As Angela entered the dusty main hallway, a jingling sound came to her ears reminding her of her pet cat's collar. She dismissed this as possibly a neighbor's pet hanging out somewhere around or within the house. For a moment the musty smell of the inside overwhelmed her, but she quickly became accustomed to it and began to explore.
The main hallway led to a set of double stairs that started from opposite sides of the entrance's foyer, sweeping elegantly up to meet one another at the top floor. A dusty chandelier, laden with countless cobwebs, hung from the center of the ceiling missing several pieces of crystal. The stairways railings were missing several spindles giving the impression of an upside down grin missing several teeth.
At the top of the stairs two large ornate doors stood ajar revealing the master suite beyond. Angela decided this was the room she would stay in and made her way carefully up the stairs to drop off her belongings.
Again, as she ascended the steps, she heard tinkling bells coming from down below. She laid out her sleeping bag and placed her journal and the flashlight on top after smoothing it out upon the dusty floor. Her eyes were drawn to a patch of wall where the stained heavy wall paper had peeled away. Behind the faded dry paper there was a name and message scratched roughly into the brittle stucco of the wall.
Lewis Hillard Kelly
50th PA. Regiment, CO. G
1864She quickly scrawled the name down in her journal for later study. Angela decided, while there was still an hour of light left, she would explore the grounds before settling in for the night.
Minutes later she found herself outside and below the kitchen window. There, on the ground below the window a giant "dead" spot lay within the bushes and the overgrown grass. Angela was idly wondering why nothing grew in the spot when her thoughts were interrupted by the jingling of small bells once again.
Another gust of chill wind sent hair flying into her face. Angela pulled a rubber band from her pocket and, while tying her hair back behind her head, she spied something reflecting dusky sunlight from the lower branch of a gnarled oak tree in the back yard and near the rivers edge.
She made her way over to the tree and squinted against the sun's low angled setting rays. Angela made out the silhouette of what appeared to be a pocket watch.
"This is an odd place for you," she said as if it could understand her. Angela had to stand on her tiptoes but, after about three tries, she got a grip on the watch. The metal was cold to the touch as she yanked on the timepiece. The chain stubbornly held onto the branch for a few minutes until she finally wrenched it free.
"Must be my lucky day," she said turning it over in her hands. Suddenly she heard children's laughter coming from one of the arched entrances to the basement. She shoved the watch into her pocket and made her way over to the open entrance.
"Hello?" She poked her head inside the dark entrance, "Is there anyone there?"
The question was answered with tinkling bells, the sound of which was starting to fray on her nerves a bit. She decided to investigate surmising the bells must be some type of annoying wind chime or something of this nature that hung in the basement. Her only impulse now was to silence them.
A single shaft of red sunlight shone on a far wall entering through a small broken window. Angela could see drawings in red and blue crayon. She made her way over to investigate. The drawings appeared to be by two different people judging by varying degrees of talent in the artwork. Everything that was drawn with the red crayon was simple but neat, as if drawn by a child. The blue crayon was more haphazard. It appeared the artist bared down too hard and there were several smudges throughout the blue artwork.
Near the middle Angela read four lines that were written within the collage of artwork.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME? Written in the pretty child's handwriting.
GRENAUCHE. Was the roughly scrawled reply in blue.
WHAT IS YOURS?EMILY. Was written in red with a smiley face drawn after the "y."
Angela smiled as she looked at the artwork. At the base of the wall she saw a small little doll half buried in the dirt. She uncovered it and brushed it off. It was roughly stitched having two red buttons for eyes, and faded orange yarn for hair. The swatch of flowered fabric of it's dress was tattered and torn and it was only as big as the palm of Angela's hand.
As she gently sat the doll at the base of the wall she noticed a worn green crayon half buried in the sand. She dug it out and upon the wall under the writing she wrote.
MY NAME IS ANGELA, putting her own smiley face at the end.
A sudden chill ran down her spine. The air around her suddenly seemed heavy and an acrid smell came to her nostrils. The temperature within the basement dropped twenty degrees and she swore she felt a presence. She hastily got up and ran for the exit.
As she reached the twilight outside the bells came to her ears again as she looked back at the wall, still barely visible in the fading light. The art work was now gone. Goose pimples sprouted upon her skin as she read the writing there in blue and red crayon each adorned with a smiley face of it's own.
HELLO ANGELANICE TO MEET YOU ANGELA
