support as he stood on unsteady legs. He'd need a cane soon, before the year was done no doubt.
When he realized that he was still holding Heather's stuffed rabbit, he thought about putting it back for only a second.
The toy had stirred up a lot of feelings, both emotional and physical, that Billy wanted to explore. The few visitors he had wouldn't comment on it and if he put it in his bedroom they wouldn't even see it.
The idea of sleeping with the toy in his bed made him grin.
As he was making his way back to the stairs his aged bones creaked nearly as much as the wood floors. Beyond the sound of his hasty shuffling there came another. It was low, the distinct squeal of metal against metal, so soft he might have missed it.
By the time he turned around it had stopped.
His first thought was that the window had blown open. That would explain the sudden chill and the noise. He dismissed the thought that the cold had come first, clinging to the reasonable explanation as he examined the pane of glass.
Not only was the window firmly shut, it wasn't even possible to open. There were no hinges or sliding fixtures. The window was for decoration only.
Unease crept down the back of his neck. Billy didn't know why. He was perfectly safe in his house. It was old and he hadn't been nearly as vigilant with the upkeep over the years, but it was still his home.
Once he got downstairs he would feel better, of that he was sure.
He only saw it as he turned away, a taunting flash out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't possible. A double take that nearly gave him whiplash proved that it was.
The trunk was open, the lid hanging in mid air supported only by the rusted hinges. He was sure that he'd closed it. Fear gripped him, freezing him in place as he stared at the trunk.
Billy didn't know why he was so afraid. Age was affecting his mind, it was nothing new. Just the other day he'd misplaced his reading glasses on top of his head. He chuckled lightly at himself.
It still took him several seconds to work up the courage to walk back to the trunk.
It was empty, the bottomless darkness mocking him.
"No!" Billy gasped, stumbling backwards.
The light shut off, drowning the attic in black. Light barely found its way through the dirty window. The thick clouds full of snow filtered the sun into something unnatural. Dark yellow, it gave the attic a haunting otherworldly glow.
A creak in the farthest part of the attic made his head snap in the direction.
"Who's there?" Billy demanded, his ripened voice not as strong as he would've liked.
A shuffle in the other direction stole his attention. His wife's dresser shook, causing a glass object to fall to the floor. It shattered.
"It's not nice to tease an old man," he joked uneasily.
"Not nice," his own words echoed back to him. They were his words, but not his voice like one would expect in a normal echo. It was too soft, too low; ending in a hiss that cut off suddenly.
He took another step towards the stairs. He would be safe if he could just get downstairs he assured himself aloud. Billy didn't know why he wasn't safe in the attic, only that he had to hurry.
There was movement all around him; things running around him in the darkness. Items his wife had collected over the years fell to the floor, sometimes breaking, sometimes rolling away.
He was near the top of the stairs when the shadows began to dance across the walls and floor. Large twisting shapes loomed over him giving his old heart a stop.
"Who's there?" He shouted again, turning around the face the source.
On the window sill stood all of the toy soldiers lined up and facing him. The way the light washed over them made their faces look vicious. Bodies that should've been poised neutrally at attention now had their weapons drawn; aimed straight at Billy.
Hands thrown up in defense automatically, it took Billy a moment to realize how ridiculous he must've looked. A shaky laugh escaped his throat even as his heart hammered sporadically in his chest. His one lung let out a puff of air that turned to fog when in came into contact with the chilled air.
More movement from behind him forced him to turn around.
"What's going on?" He shouted as fear gripped his heart.
"Not nice," bodiless voices whispered in response.
Billy tried to run the rest of the way to the steps. He made it several steps before something caught him around the ankles causing him to fall. Hard.
He put his hands out to try to break his fall. They landed straight onto shattered glass, shards of all sizes piercing his flesh. His body fell to the floor, crushing his feeble wrists between it and the hard floor. If he were ten years younger he would've been fine. Unfortunately he wasn't a young man anymore. The bone in his left wrist broke with an audible snap.
Billy shouted, crying out in agonizing pain. He'd never broken a bone in his life.
Looking over his shoulder to see what made him trip, Billy saw a jump rope slither behind a box like a snake.
He managed to roll onto his side. His visage was blocked by tall stacks of boxed and old furniture that towered over him menacingly.
Movement just outside of his field of vision made him cry out again. Attempting to crawl away on his elbows proved futile, he barely made it two inches before he had to give up.
He was too weak, his single lung unable to get the oxygen his distressed heart needed.
Beyond the sound of his gasping breaths he heard a whisper. As it grew louder he realized it wasn't just one person speaking, it was many. Voices blended together to create a terrible hiss of noise. He strained to hear what they were saying.
"Danny."
"Kyle."
"Sandy."
"Priscilla."
Button eyes reflected from the darkness, watching Billy struggle on the ground. Sewn mouths remained shut yet the voices continued. Names upon names repeating over and over until the names were a deafening cry of constantans and vowels.
"Stop it! Leave me alone!"
The voices stopped, cutting out all at once, leaving him in silence. At first he was grateful. As it stretched on he felt the weight of it settle over him. It was crushing.
Once again Billy attempted to get up, only able to raise his head off of the ground. Fur brushed against the side of his face making him jerk back with a shout.
It was only the stuffed rabbit. He'd dropped it in his panic.
Staring at the toy lying innocently on its side, black eyes unblinking, Billy began to laugh.
He didn't know why.
He couldn't stop the choking gasps of giggles that escaped. They bubbled in his belly, exploding up his throat and out of his mouth like a shaken soda.
He must've looked mad, lying in the dark attic floor amongst a cluster of children's toys laughing great hee-haws that made his lung ache.
When the rabbit blinked, Billy's laughter only came out harder. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.
With his heart beating wildly in his chest, a frantic yet steady thump thump thump, he watched the bunny's paw reach for his throat. Claws emerged from the cloth flesh.
Billy froze mid laugh, mouth still open in a silent scream.
It was only several days later when his home nurse stopped by for her weekly visit that his body was discovered.
It was an orderly affair. The police deemed his death an accident; just another elderly person who lived alone when they should've been in a home.
The claw and bite marks, while disturbing and terrible, were surely caused by rats. There was no other explanation.
With no living relatives and no will, the bank took possession of the house and all of it's contents. An estate sale was held to maximize profits before the house was to be auctioned. It was mostly junk anyway, including a collection of old children's toys.
It was at the estate sale that a man found a not so white toy rabbit. At first glance, it looked like the one his kid sister had so many years ago. But he knew that was impossibl
e. It was never found, not even with her body.
Still, it called to something inside of him until he caved and bought it.
Heather Collins was buried a month later, when her body was finally released to her family. Tucked in with her bones was her familiar old friend, a smile now on his face.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends