BooksBarbecue
Back Gallows Hill
Chapters (45)
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  31. 31
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  34. 34
  35. 35
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  37. 37
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  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
  43. 43
  44. 44
  45. 45

Margot turned in a slow circle, breath held as she strained to hear any movements other than her own. She knew she shouldn’t be looking any further for it. She should be moving back to the exit as quickly as she could. And yet…

Something small was wedged into a gap behind one of the support beams. It was very, very close to the place she’d thought she’d seen the figure. Margot lowered herself to one knee to see it better. She’d found some kind of small, leather-bound book. It was aged and dulled by a layer of dust and looked as though it had been there for a long time.

She held the shimmering light above the book as she tried to pry it free. The pages made a crackling noise. Margot poised her tongue between her teeth as she moved more carefully, trying to pull the book out from where its leather had fused into the wood.

A spider scurried out from between the pages. Margot flinched but didn’t abandon her work. A fraction at a time, the book came free. Whoever had wedged it into the narrow gap had wanted it to stay there.

A low ripping noise came from the cover as the book finally peeled out. Part of the leather, aged until it was as delicate as crepe, had been left behind, but the book itself was still intact. Margot tried to pry it open, but the pages were fused and threatened to tear. She tucked it under her arm instead and stood.

The attic felt much colder than when she’d arrived there. Gooseflesh ran across her arms as she reached her light out to ward off the shadows.

More spiders fled. Margot held herself rigid as she crept back toward the stain. It looked darker, thicker, than when she’d first found it. She tried not to stare at how the surface glistened at the edges of her light.

She glanced down at the hand holding the book. The index finger, which she’d used to push through the rotting wood, was still streaked with the vivid liquid, though it had started to dry and crust.

When she reached the stain, she paused to reorient herself. The trapdoor hadn’t been far away, and when she’d climbed through it, enough ambient light flowed from the opening that it was hard to lose. Now, though, there was nothing but darkness around her. The sun had set. She’d spent too long in this highest level of the house.

It isn’t far.

Margot began moving in the direction she thought she’d come. Even the footmarks on the floor had become confusing as she’d crossed her path multiple times.

Wait…no. There are too many prints.

Not all of these are mine.