After many months of searching Mr. Craven was shown
an old house owned by the Government. The Real Estate agent explained that
it had been abandoned for many years because the owner had disappeared
and eventually it was seized to pay the unpaid property taxes.
He quickly jumped at the chance to purchase such a large home as
a "steal of a price" since he could take care of the minor repairs himself.
He spent most of the first day making small modifications so he could move
in. After holes in the roof had been patched he carried in his furniture
and various meager belongings.
Later in the day when he had settled in and situated
the furniture he began to hear the unmistakable sounds of people whispering
nearby. It appeared to be coming from outside the window very close to
the side of the house. When he peered through the curtain he couldn’t see
anyone although his vantage point allowed a full view outside except directly
beneath the window. He went out to investigate but there was no one around
and the voices stopped. He noticed a large crawl space vent under the window
but thought nothing of it at the time. When he got back inside the whispering
was still happening as is it had never stopped. He immediately darted back
outside to catch the ‘neighborhood prankster’. Once again there was no
one around when he got outside. He began to wonder if it really was a prankster
or if he had strained himself lifting his furniture earlier that day. Back
in the living room the voices were gone.
He assured himself that he had imagined the whole
episode and took a sleeping pill; quickly drifting off to an exhausted
sleep. The next day when Mr. Craven woke he felt much better. He went into
town to get groceries, supplies, and to take care of loose ends. Around
dusk the mysterious voices started up again and this time he could even
distinguish a boy and girl whispering. This time he was really worried
because the voices couldn’t be blamed on exhaustion. Not being one to jump
to conclusions, he tried to come up with a logical explanation. After all....
he had been out of the institute for three months now and Dr. Phelps had
told him he was completely cured.
Outside the voices had stopped but upon nearing the
window he again heard the faintly. The whispering voices seemed to be coming
from under the house! This was strange since the house only had a small
crawl space. He stuck his head against the vent beneath the window and
could hear every word.
An uncalmable fear came over him with their chilling
words.
"Maybe father will
let us out someday."; the boy said. "Do you really think so?"; asked the
girl.
Mr. Craven’s eye began to twitch with a nervous tick.
By doing what Dr. Phelps had told him to do when something made him upset
he was able to pull himself together and to think in a rational manner.
"Some kids must have crawled under the house and left a tape recorder to scare me."; he thought to himself rather unconvincingly.
His eye stopped twitching after a while and he almost
laughed out loud when he began thinking about some of the things that he
had done to scare adults when he was young. Mr. Craven walked around the
house twice before he found the trapdoor to the crawl space under the house.
It was well hidden by the overgrown shrubs and the deep shadows of dusk.
His eye began to twitch again when he noticed the LOCKED rusty padlock
on the door; as it obviously had been for many years. Not wanting to find
out the secrets behind the door after it got completely dark; if at all;
he went inside to get a hammer, chisel and flashlight.
He returned minutes later with all the things he needed
except courage. The whispering continued on unabated. His hands were shaking
so much that he missed the chisel twice before he finally made contact.
The lock sprung open and flew off the hasp. He aimed the flashlight’s beam
on the door and waited for the strength to open it. The sun was gone and
he knew it wasn’t getting any lighter outside. He didn’t want to do it.
As it opened the rusty hinges creaked and the whispering stopped.
What he saw made him lose control of his bladder! All
was pitch darkness under the house except where the moonlight was shining
through the slits in the vent and where his dim flashlight bore its way
through the darkness. Over in the corner glaring at him with chilling intensity
were two pairs of glowing red eyes!
He didn’t dare aim the flashlight in that direction.
At that moment he was probably more insane than he ever was at the institute.
Regardless of his frenzied mental state he managed to quickly close the
trapdoor and flip the hasp over the lock loop and fumbled with the padlock’s
ring until secured the door. Back inside the house he continued screaming
and ranting for quite some time. Much later Mr. Craven calmed down enough
to convince his mind that the sinister eyes belonged to wild animals that
had burrowed under the house.
He didn’t even try to explain the voices anymore for
what explanation could he come up with anyway? It was much easier to just
shut that inexplicable part out of his mind. He knew he would end up back
at the institute soon if he didn’t confront his fears ‘head on’ so he grabbed
the flashlight with renewed vigor and went out into the darkness armed
with only rational thought as his ‘sword and shield’. As he opened the
door and pointed the dim beam of light toward the menacing eyes, a sight
greeted him which caused all rationality and sanity to leave immediately
forever. Far worse than the two pairs of eyes he had seen earlier were
two human skeletons shackled to concrete support pillars.
Deep within his mind their voices began to beckon to
him; commanding him to get the key hanging on the nail beside the door
to unlock their chains. No matter how hard he tried he could not break
free of their hypnotic spell. "Free us" they chanted.
In his mind he was doing all he could to fight but
his own hand was betraying him. He took the rusty key from the nail and
grasped in his shaking hand. His body crawled toward the cold, dark corner.
Dr. Phelps had trained him in several procedures to follow when he felt
himself losing control of his sanity but none of the training had any effect
at all on a supernatural situation of this magnitude.
His body was nearly to THEM while his mind was still
back at the trapdoor where it was safe. Somewhere within the commands dominating
his thoughts came a new order. No words could describe the consuming horror
he felt as he lost the last resistance he possessed. Not only was he crawling
toward these unspeakable otherworldly beings with specter grins; now his
own hand lowered the flashlight and shut it off. The blinding darkness
and stagnant cold took his fear to new depths as he strained to adjust
his eyes. In what seemed like an eternity he adjusted and could see EVERYTHING.
He was so close to "them" that he could even see the keyhole that his own
hand was reaching to unlock.
At that moment he remembered the old biblical verse: "If thine own
hand offends thee, cut it off". If he could have he surely would have done
so at that moment. The chains rattled and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
A foreign voice within his mind began to speak. "Within
thy hand lies the key, to unlock our chains and set us free." He heard
the lock spring open and the voice rose louder... "So it shall be."
Many years have passed since poor Mr. Craven disappeared.
Some speculate one theory or another about his frail mental state after
so many years in the psychiatric hospital but none have any proof to support
their ideas. Dr. Phelps suggested to the police that he would turn up eventually
but he was never heard from again. Several families have purchased the
old house intending on taking advantage of the Federal Housing and Urban
Development’s benefits for young families but none stayed longer than a
few days.
They all claim the house is haunted by rattling chains and a disembodied
voice that says over and over.... "Don’t leave me down here!".
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