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"Hey, anyone there?"
Dan's cry echoed through the neighbourhood and reverberated among the centuries-old fir trees. No one responded to his voice, so the lad pursed his lips in dissatisfaction and moved forward in the darkness. He could have sworn he saw the light of someone's torch ahead.
Just my luck. The car had stalled, and it would probably have been wiser to stay in it, but he saw the light! Now it seemed to him that it was just a mirage caused by the cold. So much for celebrating Christmas with his relatives.
His fingers were turning red quickly, as was his face — snowflakes flew straight at him, driven by the wind, tangling in his raven-black hair and stinging his cheeks, while the frost penetrated to his bones. Without a scarf or hat, in a thin jacket unsuitable for the abnormal cold, he was a fool.
The trees went on and on, and the torch was steadily threatening to run out. A flock of goose bumps ran down his spine — for a moment, he thought he saw movement behind him. The place turned out to be empty.
Dan sighed, looking back. There was something eerie about the forest. And then... a light appeared again ahead.
He rushed forward through the snow, trying to call out to the source of the light, and he could have sworn he heard laughter
*****
The house was deserted and surprisingly undamaged – it smelled of mould and age, but everything was in its place, from the heavy velvet curtains to the piano and gramophone. Green wallpaper, expensive carpets, slightly crooked paintings – a wealthy family's mansion from the nineteenth or early twentieth century.
Strange. Dan could have sworn there was no such abandoned building in the neighbourhood.
He hesitantly walked into the hall and shuddered when the light from his torch fell on the paintings. Some of the portraits had their faces burned out, particularly the family portrait — the mother, the father, and what appeared to be the eldest child, a young man about his age. Someone had carefully torn out the pieces depicting the heads, leaving only gaping holes. Only the two youngest children remained untouched — twins who looked like angels from a postcard, with blond hair and blue eyes.
It seemed that the vandal had simply taken pity on them.
However, it was good that the faces had been burned out. Because Dan felt as if the remaining ones were staring at his back.
The oppressive feeling of being watched weighed heavily on his shoulders.
******
Here. Definitely. Someone. Was.
He had been walking around the abandoned mansion for several hours and could clearly hear footsteps other than his own. Light footsteps that broke into a run.
The feeling of dread made his stomach churn. Or maybe it was just hunger.
Green wallpaper stretched along the endless corridor.
The storm outside the window, which was surprisingly intact, howled desperately. How could such weather happen in this region?
However, all that remained for Daniel was to calm his nerves and find someone's room to spend the night. Sleep was mercilessly pulling at him.
He liked the older brother's room. A desk, a large bed, some faded drawings hanging on the walls, and an upside-down wardrobe with a pile of old rags... surprisingly well preserved. The shirt in Dan's hands was almost undamaged, even though the conditions of the old abandoned house were not conducive to preservation. Even the books had survived years of damp and cold without falling apart in the hands of the uninvited guest.
Definitely strange.
***
He couldn't fall asleep. Creaks, rustles, howling wind – every time he dozed off, he would jump up, even dropping the jacket he was using as a blanket a couple of times.
And then he heard footsteps.
His heart stopped, and he grabbed a blanket on his bed, trying not to breathe. It couldn't have been the guard or anything like that — he would have already encountered him while exploring earlier.
The room grew colder, and sleep began to overtake him, but the boy remained tense, like a string. Soon, the feeling of someone else's presence disappeared. Dan, not understanding what it was, finally simply could not resist sleep and the cold.
***
‘It's him,’ one whispered.
‘Yes, it's definitely him!’ replied the second, who was similar but more enthusiastic. ‘He's finally here.’
***
The lad woke up to the rumbling of his stomach and thought sadly that those bars from the car would have come in handy right now.
Perhaps it really was worth checking the car. And trying once more to send a signal asking for help.
The floorboards and steps creaked under his feet. Nothing in the house had changed during his slumber, and the memories of yesterday's noises seemed like a simple nightmare.
Lost in thought, he leaned against the wall, where he clearly remembered there had been a passageway. He must have missed a turn.
This happened several times as he searched for a way out. Dead end after dead end. The feeling of something biting into his back like insects. He had to
get out of there.
*****
He fell to his knees right on the broken stone tiles of the path.
H-how could this be?
Why was he here again?
The blackness of the windows stared at him as if it were an intelligent being. The windows of the very house from which he had been walking straight, without turning anywhere.
Dan got up again and turned away from the building, rushing away almost at a run. His heart tightened anxiously as everything inside him felt cold.
He couldn't get stuck here.
***
His hands were shaking treacherously.
There was something there, watching him! Small, inscrutable, like a bloody ghost. Although why like. The lad wasn't a cynic, especially after the straight path towards the road had led him back.
This place didn't want to let him go.
They didn't want to let him go. Two silhouettes, he was sure.
They chased him like dogs chasing prey. And he ran, through trees and branches, falling and getting up, hiding and picking up speed among the black, branchy trunks.
It repeated itself. A closed circle.
He looked at that damned house, and his breathing became painfully heavy. Again and again. Round and round. Hysterical laughter burst from his throat.
***
"Does our brother want to play?"
"I think so. It looks like tag."
"Heh, okay, looks like we're it!"
****
The body slid heavily down the tree trunk, settling on the snow. Dan could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart, threatening to give him a heart attack.
The torch fell out of his hand, his legs gave way beneath him.
His arms wrapped around his knees. He wanted to cry. Glancing around furtively and sighing resignedly, the lad set off again towards the house.
They wouldn't let him go now.
***
"Alan, Liam, look at me" the young man crouched down in front of the younger boys, placing his hands on their shoulders.
The twins looked at him with teary eyes and sniffed in unison.
"I can't stay at home. I have to go there like a decent adult man," his calm, comforting tone did not help. The boys cried again at the top of their voices and threw themselves at their brother, clinging to him.
‘No!’ cried the first one.
"You don't need to go there!
"You're needed here!
"We need you!
‘And Mum and Dad need you,’ they chirped in unison, like chicks in a nest, causing the older boy to purse his lips.
‘Mum and Dad don't mind and support my decision,’ he replied simply.
‘Well, they're fools, then!’ cried the one who was clinging tighter to his older brother.
‘Liam... boys, I'll be back, I promise,’ sighed the boy, already visibly saddened.
‘Do you promise?’ one of the children asked, his eyes reddened.
‘I promise,’ said the older boy firmly. ‘...do you want to play something before I leave?’
‘Yes!’ cried the first one instantly.
‘We really want to! Let's play hide and seek!’ chimed in the second.
"All right, all right. I'll talk to my mother, and you guys hide.
They nodded eagerly, and when he left, they exchanged ominous glances.
‘Let's hide THERE.’
‘Yeah. And we'll hide his things.’
‘Then he'll stay.’
‘He'll stay with us.’
*****
A locked room and attempts to remember a prayer. Too bad there's no salt.
Freeze quieter than a mouse so they don't notice.
Although in those films, that never bothered the ghosts. What do they want? To kill him? To drag him away? Do they want him to bury their bodies?
Too many questions, and no answers. The lad was afraid to make contact with them. Maybe his personal notes would shed some light?
***
‘I couldn't find them,’ James muttered, looking anxiously at his parents.
‘Don't worry,’ his father reassured him. ‘They'll be somewhere in the house. The nannies will find them.’
‘Check the forest again. And... maybe I should stay and help?’ the eldest child of the family continued anxiously.
‘No, no, don't worry and do your duty,’ his mother stopped him. ‘They're just being capricious, they'll come back when they want to.’
‘Mm... okay,’ his heart sensed something was wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it.
***
Unbearable. It's unbearable.
He read the notes, he even tried to talk to them, but there were no answers! On top of that, they stole his things — Dan was left without a jacket and never found his torch, so he had to use an oil lamp.
They laughed. They kept him awake. And he felt hungry. A ravenous hunger that penetrated deep inside him. He wandered the corridors, not understanding what they wanted from him.
He had a constant headache.
At some point, he simply fell to the floor, losing consciousness. Only vague images flashed before his eyes.
His body was shaking from the cold, especially after he fell and lay there for half a day. He had to put on something from the wardrobe of the late James, whose room he had chosen on the first day. The jacket, warm enough, fit like a glove.
He couldn't look at himself for the sake of a nervous joke — all the mirrors in the house were broken and all the reflective surfaces were dusty.
The lad wasn't even sure what his face looked like now.
***
" Brother plays strangely."
"Yeah. But it looks interesting."
"It's like hide and seek."
" And again we lead."
***
The lantern glowed dimly in the darkness, bathing the deserted corridors in a warm brightness as Dan ran ahead, keeping close to the walls.
Because of the little bastards, he had to update his wardrobe, or rather, rob a dead man again. His jeans had torn during an unfortunate fall.
The pain in his stomach had become almost routine, and the cold was a constant companion. Everything around him was a poor backdrop.
He had already seen their faces. Angels, literally. Beautiful and dead, like dolls.
He couldn't remember how long he had been here. He couldn't remember the date or day of the week. His head ached constantly and confused memories and facts.
It seemed like he was starting to run a fever.
He didn't know where he found the strength to run and hide. He should have been lying there exhausted, but here he was, still alive. To keep from going mad, he read whatever was left here. Especially the James's diaries.
The leather cover felt nice against his chest, the notebook hidden in a secret pocket. At least something here would be his.
He looked around. No one. But...
‘Gotcha!’ came a voice from the side.
‘Caught you!’ echoed another from behind.
Cold hands clung to the hem of his coat.
"You're leading!"
‘Find us!’
And they disappeared, dissolving into thin air.
Find them.
Find them and... and they'll let them go?
***
A mournful, sorrowful cry swept through the house:
‘Son, give me back my son!’
The woman wailed at the top of her voice, like a wounded bear, like a lioness who had lost all her cubs, kneeling before the coffin. Her husband stood with an indescribable, stony expression on his face, staring at the lacquered lid.
It must not be opened.
He had died the day before. He had just been brought over, sick, wounded, silent and blind. The fact that he had survived was either a miracle of God or punishment for his parents' sins.
Almost nothing remained of his face. A mess. A shell. Flames and burns. The doctors tried, but they couldn't save him. He would have needed a prosthesis. If James had survived.
The fever took him in terrible agony. Moaning and tossing and turning in delirium.
The body was taken home.
The man sighed and tried to lead his wife away from the coffin. She was no longer wailing, only sobbing quietly, murmuring prayers and pleas, still unable to stand on her feet. The loss of all her children at once had hit her too hard.
In the closed, empty room, the coffin lid flew open. Two lights flashed in the dim light, leaning over the body.
‘It's not him.’
‘Not our brother.’
‘Where's the real one?’
‘They're hiding him. I am sure."
******
Find them, find them, find them.
The sense of time disappeared. Winter did not end, nor did the snow and storm.
He coughed sharply, a few drops landing on his shirt.
Little rascals.
He searched his memory, poring over his lovingly bound notebooks, and once again went around the entire house, lighting his way with a lamp. Dust, cobwebs, clutter, no trace of the twins.
He smiled. They think they can hide, but he'll find them anyway, find them and...
A coughing fit bent his body in half, and the picture before his eyes floated even more confidently, while his temples pressed mercilessly and tears knocked out of his eyes....
Holding on to the walls, he slowly wandered forward toward his goal. There was one more place.
***
The snow hit his eyes with even greater ferocity than before.
And he walked on, clutching the lantern handle tightly. The coughing did not stop, but only grew worse. He no longer noticed the scarlet trail of footprints behind him.
His hand holding the lantern trembled, as did his whole body. But he was hot. Too hot, even.
At some point, he threw his coat onto the snow and walked on in just his shirt and trousers. The frosty wind ruffled his blond hair.
The forest no longer seemed so frightening. Nothing seemed so anymore. He simply wandered among the black, bare trunks, intuitively feeling his way.
There was their secret place. A secluded cave that no one knew about. Among the roots of an old tree.
And the closer he got to the place, the gentler and quieter the blizzard became. In the sky, a full silver moon surrounded by stars appeared in the dark blue.
He crawled into the hole without much difficulty and dragged the lantern behind him.
‘Brother!’ Liam immediately cried out joyfully. The boy forgot why he was there and immediately broke into a warm smile.
‘Brother, you're slow,’ Alan muttered, looking at him.
‘Sorry you had to wait,’ he said, sitting down on the cold floor next to them. Liam immediately threw himself into his arms, but Alain was angry, so the J had to hold him close and kiss him on the top of his head to make him thaw and hug him back.
‘The main thing is that you came,’ one of them almost purred.
‘We thought you had deceived us too,’ echoed the other, poking his older brother in the side.
‘How could I break my promise?’ he replied softly. ‘Well, shall we go home?’
The twins nodded in unison, then grabbed the older boy's hands as he got up. As soon as they climbed out, he picked them both up and carried them towards the house.
The warm, gentle May air was filled with sweet, lingering scents, and the sun's rays danced on the light hair of the trio.
***
‘Danny, my little...’ the woman cried, blowing her nose into a handkerchief every now and then.
‘I'm sorry, Mrs Hood,’ said the elderly policeman, trying to comfort her. Forensic scientists and searchers with dogs were bustling around, already preparing to leave. Three bodies were carried out of the forest under sheets.
‘Where did you find him?’ the woman raised her tearful eyes to the man in uniform.
‘Um, we found a place, either a cave or someone's burrow. He was there, along with the bodies of two children, about seven years old.’
"Are they?....."
"No, no, they've definitely been there for a long time. Our people are compiling reports on missing persons in this area, although I think they're about a hundred years old, judging by their clothes, he shook his head."
"And Danny?"
"He was sitting there hugging them. And their arms were folded as if they were hugging him back. Apparently, he died with these child mummies in his arms."
The woman burst into hysterical tears again and went to her car as soon as the paperwork was finished.
‘They took him,’ came a voice from the back seat. Sammy had been dozing off due to the long journey. ‘Now he's their brother.’
‘What are you talking about, sweetheart?’ She looked up at the child with tear-stained eyes. ‘Who took him?’
‘Those children,’ the boy replied calmly.
‘Oh, did you hear that? You shouldn't listen to such things, my dear,’ the woman wailed.
He just remained silent and looked away.
It was dusk, and the sunset spread scarlet across the horizon. The woman could have sworn she saw a dark silhouette with a lantern between the trees.