Terror Night
Faith looked at Elektra in the den that night, alone. Faith knew what Elektra was going into. That girl was headed to a correctional place. She didn't know if she should tell her. Faith just turned and left, wondering. Elektra would be even more abandoned.
Rick was in his room, still. He hoped it didn't disturb anyone in the other rooms. He didn't want any of the little kids coming in, especially if they called Mike. He'd call the police and ask why Rick hadn't handed them over. In fact, why hadn't he? Because he just was curious. He wanted to know, see if there was anything that he could help. He just…didn't know. He felt drawn to the reels.
He had slotted the next one in and aimed the projector at the wall. He had put a bed sheet up and was sorting everything out. Christmas '64. He hoped this wouldn't be as horrifying as the last.
It started off as normal. A pretty living room. The camera – or rather, the person filming it – was behind a couch. The opposite wall was cream, the other couch brown, old-fashioned, like a war film, with a cover. A Christmas tree was next to the sofa on one side, a burnt out fireplace in the other. Then people began coming in.
A girl about ten or eleven years old, a boy of maybe eight or nine, both wearing white. The girl had a nightie on, the boy wore pyjamas. Then a man came in wearing a dressing gown. He looked maybe late twenties, early thirties. Another man slightly older, with thinning hair and a growing beard. A much older girl, now dressed, wearing her hair up in a bob and a small very plain skirt. A boy came in, maybe about Johnny's age, fourteen or fifteen, with long hair for a boy, almost shoulders, wearing green pyjamas.
The older boy picked up a book from the side and jumped onto the couch by the camera. The older man was saying something to the little boy, making him walk out the room. Rick then saw the camera focus on the fireplace.
The girl went over and picked up a little toy train, then putting it down again.
Later, it had another man, perhaps thirty, reading from a book to the girl and boy, as well as two other children, a girl with blonde hair very short about Rick's age and a girl a bit younger than that, about thirteen or fourteen, with red hair and freckles. All were wearing nightclothes. Again, no sound, but Rick could see this orphanage was going to end in a terrible event at Christmas.
How weird, if you died on Christmas.
Those children now, they'd be old. If they lived.
Now, it was darkness. Just the light in the fireplace, burning. Tinsel on the floor, hanging from the fireplace where stockings would hang. It had the two girls from the clip before lying facing each other, nearest to the left, asleep. Then the little girl, the two younger men, the older boy, the other girl, the oldest man. All bound and gagged with duct tape.
The camera turned to the Christmas tree. The long strands of tinsel, hooked round the fireplace hooks and, Rick noticed, round the victims' necks, were by the Christmas tree stump. Someone lifted up the tree, put the strands of tinsel underneath on a small red wheeled plank, and grabbed the handle. The camera went back to the people.
Rick knew someone must be pulling the cart away, but the tinsel nooses were wound round each fireplace hook very tightly, as the bodies began to move upwards. Rick nearly looked away when he saw that the victims had begun kicking their legs. They weren't quite unconscious.
Then all eight of them were drawn up, forced up by someone pulling the tinsel, to the hooks. He could see how terrified they looked, the little girl swinging from each side. But think it must have skipped a bit forward, because the three older girls and one of the men had stopped kicking, just hanging there, swinging.
Then forward again, because the older boy and the second man were still, their legs kicked against the side of the fireplace. The little girl was just staring at the camera, her eyes wide open. Rick didn't know if she was dead.
Then it stopped.
Rick turned it off and put his hands in his face. That was one of the most sickening things he'd ever seen. A group of people including a little girl – a little girl! Not much older than Jody =- killed like that. As with the last one, the youngest boy was missing, presumed kidnapped. But why would someone do this?
Why was someone doing this to orphanages?
He couldn't settle that night. He just kept finding it hard to try. Remembering the blood on the wall…someone's sick idea of killing someone that way…that girl…she was so frightened. He calculated. If she'd been eleven forty-nine years ago, she was old enough to be his gran. If she'd lived.
What kind of life would she have had, an orphan half a century ago? Just a little kid. Of course, the three men might not have been around today, but Rick knew that little girl, her life snuffed out at Christmas. He didn't bear thinking about it.
Then he heard thumps. No, it wasn't imagination. He got up and opened the door. A lot more thumps. And then he looked down the dark corridor. It felt like someone was there. But he knew there was unlikely to be anyone.
Then screaming. He nearly ju8mped and half wanted to go back in his room. But then he heard voices. Mike.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he heard Lilly crying. "I just thought I saw my door open." "Listen, Lilly, it's OK." "What's going on?" Faith. "Oh, Lilly had a nightmare." "More likely a night terror. Lilly, are you OK?" "Faith, I think she just needs a lie down. Night terrors are quite horrible."
Then silence. Rick went back to his room, exhausted. Just how could he fix it?
Floss just lay down on her bed, holding Geoff. She'd had a great time out bowling and she was now sleepy. She didn't notice the door slowly opening…
When Floss woke up, she saw stains all over the door. Bright black stains. A weird shape as well. Like someone had painted a goat head on the wall. She frowned, asking Geoff, "What do you think it is?" then she answered, "NO, I don't think that's right. Really." After she left, she didn't see someone looking at her. From nowhere exactly. More like a different dimension. The dimension no one comes back from.
Rick was in his room again, when everyone else was having lunch. He didn't want anyone else coming in. he'd got pictures from uploading the reels to the computer and labelling them. He'd labelled them Rick's research, putting them privately in a file. Now he'd got out pictures of the ghost costume boy from Halloween '11 and the boy in pyjamas in Christmas '64. With a Post-it note he wrote Where are you two? As well as their likely ages now.
Now he'd got Happy New year '73. He had it slotted in the projector and had the sheet up. Turning the light off and drawing the curtain, he had the projector ready.
A few children were seated at a table in coats. A girl about fourteen in a pink coat, with a brown plait, a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen with short black pixie hair coming downstairs in a pink silk nightie and slippers, hand in hair, as if having just woken up, the other children sitting down were a boy maybe fifteen years old, and a boy about ten years old. Both were brown-haired and in green coats, the younger boy holding a bag and getting out sweets.
A woman with long black hair about forty came downstairs and a man with long hair, though actually suited for the time, coming in in a black coat. Rick took in what the building looked like. The second girl had come down some wooden stairs almost directly above the table, the walls were yellow and the door had a Christmas wreath on the side.
It had a poster on the wall of some seventies band but apart from that and the date on the reel, it could have taken place anytime in the last half century.
Then it changed again. The camera was at night-time, obviously taking place in a different room. What looked like a young child's room, with a teddy bear on a blue bedspread, yellow walls, a small selection of books and padded cushions all over the floor.
There was also a very strange symbol on the wall by the door; what looked like a goat's head. Then the door opened. A small walk down a corridor, then the wooden steps from earlier. Only now, the girl's pink coat was just left on the stairs.
Then the camera turned. The man, woman, two girls and older boy were on the five chairs. Like the other two videos, they were bound and gagged with black tape, and there was a clock positioned by one of the doors. The camera also went extremely slowly round the table. The older girl's head began to loll, her eyes blinked.
On the table and on the older girl and boy's laps were cans. Of petrol. Rick began to guess what the clock was right in front of.
The man had a candle right by him, as well as what must have been cooking oil all over the table.
Rick felt horrified.
He saw someone set the camera down by the clock as they picked up something off camera. The clock was one of those old alarm clocks, with Mickey Mouse arms as hands and both we repointing close to midnight. New Year's Eve.
At midnight on New Year'[s Eve, the house would blow.
The person went outside the house. Rick decided that could be a good thing; he could see what the house looked like.
It was two storeys high, with diamond windows, boxes of flowers on the windows. The part of the house above the main door was pointed, like someone had been thinking of a church when designing the house.
Then it just went strange. There was a small yellow glow in one of the windows. Where the kitchen was. Then it went very odd. The windows flew open, banging, and the kitchen was on fire. Rick thought he could see the people at the table attempting to get free, but he knew the people were doomed.
It was really dark, but he began to see something on the sign outside. A name of somewhere. Then he'd know where it began.
He turned the projector off, hearing it click sound. He put his hand at his face. He needed more pictures. But most of all, he needed to get the evidence to stop this person before it was too late.
Not that this person would need much now. They'd be old. they'd be out there though, a criminal who hadn't been caught, hurt lives, took lives, ruined childhoods. The childhoods of the children he took, the ten-year-old boy, the eight-year-old boy, the boy in pyjamas. And their friends, just waiting, wasting their lives away never knowing what happened to them.
Faith was in the den, thinking. Elektra was going in a couple of weeks and she would have to keep the fact she knew about the place secret. She looked round, hoping to not think about it.
Johnny and Tyler were at the laptop, Tee and Carmen were talking on the other sofa, harry was in the garden. Faith just lay back, wondering. Should she tell Elektra what her parents chose for her? Faith t6hen glanced at the door. Was it her or was there something there?
A shadow seemed to move there. Then she heard Gina shouting.
"What is this!" everyone ran upstairs, finding Gina in the corridor between Lilly and Carmen's room and Tee's. she pointed at the wall. The painting similar to a goat's head. Carmen tried not to laugh, while Faith's eyes widened.
Gina said, "Someone…has drawn on the wall…with indelible ink. I can't scrub it off!" Mike came up, squeezing past the children and then noticed, "Guys, this image is actually frightening, so whoever did it, please say." Silence.
"Right. Downstairs."
Rick was sitting on the couch as Mike went on. "There is…ink on the wall. Gina can't get it off, it won't budge. Now, you're in a bit of trouble, but please, I would like to know."
Silence.; then Tee asked, "Why would someone draw a goat's head? It just looks sick." Johnny asked, "And why with ink?"
"Maybe…" Mike looked downwards. "It's a joke. But it's not funny, so if anyone has any idea, just tell me in the study."
When he went away, Rick thought. There was a goat head drawing in the fire,. Could it be that the killer was making his move?!
Maybe, he thought. But how could they have got in the house? He'd have to see the other films. Understand exactly what was going on. He also needed to look at the laptop, see what information he could get.
A/N: Well, do you like it? I did my best, but has anyone got any ideas about what's going to happen in the other videos? Just think about the titles.