Lurkishe

I was driving in my truck late one snowy night. I was chasing ghosts and dreams that I believed and hoped were real. You would have called me crazy, but it didn't seem there was anything else to do. I was close. I had been on their track, at their heels for some time now. I rose over a snowy hill and for a moment my headlights flashed over wooden cottage hidden in the dark, and when I saw it I had this funny feeling about it. There is this feeling I get sometimes, like something is whispering. I steered my truck towards the structure, but after a few yards my tires were spinning in the heavy snow banks. I turned off my truck and pulled on my coat and went out into the blizzard. As I walked toward the cottage I started to realize how haunting it was. I tell you most would have turned back, and it wasn't like I wasn't any less terrified. It was just that my intense intrigue outweighed my fear. I came to the door, and pulled on the handle. It was locked. I was afraid that my journey had come to an end, but then suddenly the window opened by itself. I took it as an invitation and I climbed though into the home. A house is a building. A home is where someone lives. I knew already that this was a home. It was dark inside, but it was very warm compared to the blizzard outside. I was in a living room that was completely empty. I suddenly had a strong urge to walk into the dinning room. It was dimly lit from an unknown light source. There were three pictures on the wall. Three smiling faces. I heard a whisper rise from beneath my feet and that's when I became aware of a stairway to my left. I knew I was supposed to go down, but I was afraid. I made myself walk down the stairs into a foggy concrete chamber. I ventured through several rooms until I suddenly realized that what was behind me was changing. I turned around to try to retrace my steps, but I was lost. I was at their mercy. There was a long sequence of smaller and smaller rooms and then a very long hallway that had a row of symbols that ran down either side. I saw a very dim green glow ahead. When I entered into the room at the end I knew I had reached the thrown room. It was glowing from behind me. I slowly turned to see a spirit that was hovering. It the appearance of a human face with wings of an owl. The eyes were like starlight. The walls of the room slowly rolled away, and I gasped as I saw hundreds thousands surely tens of thousands of such eyes looking at me. And that's when I knew that we are not alone.

The Theater

    Donovon swept thoroughly under the chairs. The show was over. The audience had departed. The actors and actresses had left. Everyone had gone home, but Donovon remained here cleaning peacefully. He had many thoughts going through his head as he skillfully maneuvered his broom through the aisles. Back in the day this theater was one of the most popular theaters in all of England if not all of Europe, but it slowly lost its popularity and the building itself had begun to deteriorate.

    Suddenly, Donovon heard a scream from the stage. He looked up quickly and then cracked a slight grin as he smoothed his hair and threw his broom to the ground.

    “Help me! Someone, help me!” the screams came from the stage.

    “I will save you madam,” Donovon replied running. He leaped upon the stage and fought off the imaginary red dragon that was threatening the maintenance girl. It was a scene they had acted out many times.

    “And don't come back.” he shouted as the dragon ran in retreat. They laughed at their drama.

    She asked him, “Did you finish the floor?”

    “Almost,” he replied, “but after that we just have the entryway and we can do that together.”

    They sat down on the edge of the stage and looked over the auditorium that had housed a crowd just a few hours past.

    “It's going to be hard to leave here,” she said.

    “I know,” he replied sentimentally fingering his necklace. “I can't imagine... but we'll find a way.”

    They lived here in Bricesin Theater and had since they could remember, but things were soon to change for the theater was to be knocked down in only a week to make room for newer structures.

    “I wish we could be up here just one time before its gone,” Donovon said turning his eyes toward her. At seeing her expression he added, “I'll ask Master Pierre tomorrow.”

    “We haven't read the newspaper in a while,” she stated.

    “Okay,” he replied hopping to the ground to fetch it. The newspaper they referred to was written around the time the theater was founded. They were just maintenance workers here, but they had a great passion for theater.

    “The Great Bricesin Dead,” Donovon read the headlines as he returned. Then sitting beside her once again, “Arthur Bricesin, the most loved actor surely in all of Europe was discovered dead this morning his body floating in the Macnar River. The previous night Arthur Bricesin had suddenly canceled the Grand opening of his self-designed Bricesin Theater for unknown reasons. This has come as a great disappointment to all of London as it has been eagerly waiting the completion of the famous young actor's theater, which he had said had 'something new to offer' So, on the very night that we had anticipated the unveiling of Mr. Bricesin's mysterious theater he has passed away.”

    Donovon paused, “Should we just read the whole thing.” She nodded flipping her hair out of her eyes. He continued. “Although he has pasted on sooner than any of us could have hoped or expected, The Great Bricesin has left us with a great legacy. His passionate performing and gentle demeanor made him famous. He often said, 'I want to tell people the story of redemption and take their spirits to new worlds.' He was known for sparing the villain’s life in the end of his self-written dramas, a characteristic that he was sometimes criticized for. The keys to the Bricesin Theater have apparently been left to Burbley Pierre who intends to have shows there as originally intended. 'I mean to find out what is so special about this theater' Mr. Pierre has said.”

    Donovon closed the old newspaper, and looked at her.

There was a moment of silence before she finally spoke, “Well, we better finish the entryway and get to bed.”

    They rose early the next morning. Pauline rushed to the marketplace to get food for their final week in the theater. Donovon stayed behind and made final preparations for the morning's rehearsal.

    Donovon knew Burbley Pierre, who they called Master Pierre, had arrived when he heard the usual welcome coming from behind the stage, “Mophead! Why didn't you take care of this disaster in upper right!”

    Donovon did not respond. The long time maintenance man, Father Rayhis, had left the theater just three years back leaving the enormous responsibility of caring for the old structure to the eleven-year-olds Donovon and Pauline. They were now fourteen, and if they had learned one thing in the last three years it was that it is impossible to please Master Pierre.

    “Donovon,” Pauline called excitedly upon returning with a huge basket in her arms. “Have you asked him yet?”

    “He's in a bad mood this morning,” Donovon replied.

    Pauline shrugged her shoulders, “It's not going to get much better.”

    “Yeah,” Donovon replied, “but rehearsal isn't going well at all.”

    There were rehearsals this morning at Bricesin Theater because there was to be one final play scheduled on the night before the theater would be taken down. Master Pierre had brought in several highly acclaimed actors, and was advertizing on every block in London. He wanted to send Bricesin theater out with a grand finale.

    The day past slowly as Donovon searched for the most opportune time to approach Master Pierre with their proposal.

    Pauline urged, “He'll be leaving soon.”

    “Okay,” Donovon relented, “okay, I'll just ask him now then.” He breathed deeply every muscle tense as he began approaching Master Pierre. He was only a short distance away as he opened his mouth to speak, but one of the nearby actors just barely beat him to it asking Master Pierre a question to which an answer was replied. The actor and Master Pierre continued discussing as they walked toward the exit. Donovon followed them all the way into the entryway fingering his necklace nervously. He finally interrupted Master Pierre as he was locking the handle, “Master Pierre?”

    “What” he replied sharply.

    Donovon swallowed, “well, we were wondering something.”

    Master Pierre looked at him annoyed, but didn't shut the door on him so Donovon tried to speak, “We were hoping...”

    “Get it out boy,” Master Pierre replied.

    Pauline walked to Donovon's side and he finally was able to ask, “We were just wondering if you might let me and Pauline be in your play.”

    Pauline added quickly, “It wouldn't be a big role or anything.”

    “Just to be on stage you know,” Donovon pleaded.

Master Pierre wore a glassy look for a moment as Donovon and Pauline held their breath in suspense. Then suddenly he burst into laughter. “You want to be in the play!” Master Pierre exploded. “How about we dress you in rags and you can be the doormat.” He laughed shutting the door emphatically.

    They stood there in the sudden silence for a moment and then Pauline sat down and started crying. Donovon sat down beside her, and they resided in the entryway for a long while.

    Then Donovon suddenly spoke, “We're going to be on that stage.”

    Pauline whipped her face with the back of her hand, “But he said we couldn't.”

    “I don't care what he says,” Donovon said strongly, “We're going to be on that stage.”

    She blinked several times staring at him curiously, “Do you mean..”

    “Yes,” he replied, “We're just going to walk out there.”

    “Donovon...” she responded. “Do you really think that's a good idea?”

    He shrugged, “We've held out long enough. We'll never get another chance at our dream then right now.”

    “I don't know if I could do that,” she hesitated.

    “Yes, that's alright,” he replied, “I'm sill going to do it.”

    She was worried, “He will beat you. He might even kill you for that, Donovon. No one would fuss if he did.”

    “I know,” he sighed, “I'm just still going to do it.”

    “When are you going to interrupt the play?” she wondered.

    “Maybe I won't interrupt the play.” he said. “I'll just go up at the end after they bow.”

    “What are you going to do?” she asked, “Just stand up there.”

    “No,” he looked at the ground thoughtfully, “I think I will act something out.”

    She paused then said, “You're crazy.”

    He laughed a short laugh, “I don't want to live the rest of my life wishing I had.”

    “Donovon, that sounds like something out of one of the dramas,” she replied.

    “I've made up my mind, Pauline. I'm going to do it.” he said with finality.

    “Okay,” she sighed giving up, “Well, if you're going to try to kill yourself I guess I'll try to help you. You'll need someone to steal a consume from storage. I'm not going out there with you though.”

    He laughed.

    That night something unusual happened. Donovon woke in the middle of the night. He was a sound sleeper and rarely failed to sleep all the way through the moon's hours, but tonight he lay on his back looking at the attic ceiling. He looked at his necklace in the moonlight that traveled through the damaged roof. It was just a simple string that had a triangular object strung through it, but he had owned this necklace since he could remember, and he never took it off.

    Suddenly, he shot up. He walked down the attic stares and through the hallway into the theater auditorium. He pulled himself onto the stage and went to the back where there was a sheet covering a mysterious object. He lifted the sheet to reveal a wooden podium. He always wondered why The Great Bricesin had designed the stage with such an obscure object right in the way of the back portion of the stage.

    The podium was about four feet high, one foot wide and one foot deep. It had a keyhole in the center and a small spinning wheel on one side, with the words “setting” above it. Master Pierre kept a sheet over the podium to avoid the eyesore, but he didn't have the podium removed because he still believed that there was something special to this theater as The Great Bricesin had claimed before he had died. To this day Master Pierre hoped to discover it as did Donovon. They also both knew this podium had to be a huge part of the puzzle.

Sometimes, as he did tonight, Donovon would spin the wheel on the podium, and maybe it was his imagination, but if he really listened hard he thought he could hear a whooshing sound below his feet. As he spun the podium's wheel quicker the whooshing noise would grow stronger.

    Suddenly, Donovon's thoughts were interrupted as he realized he was not alone in the auditorium. His blood ran cold as he spied something moving among the chairs.

A voice called out, “Donovon, what are you doing?”

    He relaxed as he recognized Pauline's figure nearing the stage. She knew what he was doing and what he was searching for. “You should go back to bed,” she urged. He slowly put the sheet over the podium and turned away.

    He followed her up the creaky attic stairs and they departed for their bedrooms. Back in its glory days the theater's quarters had housed many workers. Father Rayhis, as they called the head maintenance man, raised them. From that sizable crew of children only Donovon and Pauline remained. The theater couldn't afford to provide for anymore. Even Father Rayhis had departed for he very old and rather ill. Father Rayhis always told Donovon and Pauline that when they were very very young, their mother having no other choice took them to him, so he could raise them at the theater and give them a job as maintenance workers. They were orphans. They had an attachment to the theater as it had been their home since they could remember. They also had a deep attachment to each other having grown up together. They bonded closer than ever in an attempt to continue living at the theater. The work load was almost unbearable at times and they were never thanked for anything.

    The next morning over breakfast Donovon was telling Pauline his plans for his stage ambush. “I think I've got a good picture of it now actually. I'm going to start it off with a famous quote,” he was saying.

    “Well,” Pauline replied, “I hope this doesn't change your plans to much, but I was thinking last night...”

    “Yes,” Donovon inserted hopefully.

    “And I decided that if you are so set on being on the stage no matter the consequences then I don't want to miss out, so I'd like to do it with you.”

    “Yes!” Donovon exclaimed. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you! We could do so much more together. What do you want to act? We could do a classic scene that everyone knows or we could do one of our favorites parts from the book.

    “Well, I thought maybe we might want to do the red dragon one.”

    “Yeah,” Donovon grinned, “That's the one.”

That day's rehearsal went better for Master Pierre and the crew. Donovon and Pauline's responsibilities had grown beyond maintenance through the last few years and they were running around fetching things and make changes to aid the project. Once when they were passing by each other in the hallway Pauline exclaimed, “I got them! I got them! And he didn't even notice his keys were missing.” In her arms were two elaborate costumes that she had managed to steal.

    “You're getting crazy like me,” Donovon replied. She gave him a mischievous sneer before dashing up to the attic with her treasure.

That night after everyone had left the theater they tried on their outfits and had a rehearsal trying to work out how to best depict the scene.

    “Don't you think he'll stop us when he sees what were doing?” Pauline asked.

    “I don't know,” Donovon, “Let's just hope he's to surprised to do anything.”

    “Do you think we'll be nervous,” she wondered.

    “We can do it,” he assured her. “Something tells me we are meant to be up here.”

The next few days flew by. The theater's grand finale was fast approaching. They were excited, but also getting sentimental at loosing their long time home. Donovon was also concerned for their livelihood especially for Pauline for not only were they losing their home but they were also losing their jobs. They would soon be forced on to the street to fare for themselves as the other maintenance boys and girls had.

    “I'm really going to miss this stage.” Pauline said sadly as they sat with their legs over the edge of the stage here on the last night before the grand finale. This would be their last night staying here. Tomorrow night was the day they had waited for and they would leave following it. This cold reality was setting in, and they lingered there a good long while.

    “I'm really going to miss it all,” Pauline said choking back the sadness.

    Suddenly Donovon jumped to the floor. He started jumping on the wood boards causing quiet a racket.

    “What on earth are you doing?” she asked.

    “Can't you tell when you walk on this floor,” he replied.

    “Tell what?” she inquired.

    “It's hallow,” he said with mystery in his eyes, “It's hallow below my feet. I can tell.”

    “Yes, you've told me.” she replied.

    “There's a basement,” he added emphatically, “There's a basement to the theater, but there's no stairs to it.”

    “You've said this,” she said laying down on the stage.

    “So, if there are no stairs leading to the basement then tell me Pauline, how does one reach it.”

    “I don't know,” she sighed.

    “Well, I know. It all has to do with the mystery. We have all the clues. All we need is the key, and the mystery would be ours.”

    “Donovon...” she replied.

    “Surely, The Great Bricesin was going to show all London the secret to his theater that night he was killed.” He was saying as he dropped to his hands and knees and started yanking at one of the gears he had noticed so many times under the auditorium’s chairs. “Why would the designer put gears under all the chairs, and the stage too don't forget.”

“If we had a pound for every time you've said this then we'd be able to buy this theater,” she laughed, but he was on a roll.

    “And why is there a random podium just sitting in the back of the stage,” he continued hoping on top of the stage and moving toward the podium. “I'll tell you why, Pauline. It's because its all connected.” He lifted the sheet off the podium still musing, “And if we could just find the key that fits this keyhole then...”

    She sat up, “Donovon, You really shouldn't make this harder than it has to be.”

“If we found the key then we would unlock the mystery, and save the theater,” he said whirling around to face her excitedly.

    “We've looked everywhere. We've tried everything,” Pauline said shaking her head. She stood to her feet and put her hands on his shoulders. “It's okay. We can't do anything now.” His eyes dropped. “Let go,” she whispered.

    “We can't give up. In all the dramas everything always turns around in the last moment,” he insisted.

    “But this is not a drama,” she replied.

“This is a drama,” he responded. “It is a drama greater than any we have ever seen. And good things will come to those who wait and believe. We have waited and believed a long time. Don't stop now. Keep believing with me please.”

    She sighed and paused, “...Okay, I'll try to believe. Just for you I'll try.”

They did not talk of it anymore. Little did they know that there lived one man who knew not only the secret to the theater, but he even knew the location of the podium's key. Also he would indeed be in attendance tomorrow at the grand finale. His name was Father Rayhis, the old maintenance man.

    Donovon had trouble getting to sleep that night and when morning came Pauline had to come and wake him. They quickly ate breakfast for the last time in the theater. They didn't talk much to each other. There was not much to be said.

    Master Pierre had come earlier than usual to make preparations. His spirits were high in anticipation of a big crowd finally returning to Bricesin Theater. The theater was built for sizable crowds, but it hadn't been more than one tenth full for several years.

    When the actors and actresses arrived they had a final rehearsal. The countdown to the opening of the curtains was moving. Donovon and Pauline ate a very early dinner. They talked of their ambush of the play, which they still fully intended to do.

    “Are you nervous?” he asked.

    “Yeah,” she answered, “terribly.”

    “On account of the crowd or Master Pierre getting us dead,” he inquired.

    She chuckled at him a little, “Just everything I guess.”

    A few hours following Pauline found Donovon and asked him, “What is that guy doing here? He just randomly walked in.”

    “He's here for the play I assume,” Donovon grinned stating the obvious.

    “Oh my, what time is it,” she gasped.

    “I'm sure they'll start flooding in soon.” Donovon stated, “I sure hope he comes tonight.”

    “Father Rayhis,” Pauline knew who he meant, and her spirit lightened at the thought. Father Rayhis had visited the theater frequently for a while when there was a play following his departure, but as his health worsened his visits became less and less common. He hadn't dropped by in almost a year. Every play night Donovon and Pauline had expectantly watched for his kind old face. He was truly the only friend they had.

    As Donovon had predicted the theater auditorium soon began to fill with a crowd with a size that would have been impressive even in the theater's glory days. Donovon and Pauline were free to move were they pleased until the show started, but they were required to manually open the theaters curtains so they had to be careful they knew how many minutes were remaining till showtime.

    “I can't believe we haven't seen him yet,” Donovon said over the noise of people as they scanned every face in the stream of people walking through the entryway.

    “We better get up there,” Pauline spoke glancing at the clock.

    “Let me just wait here a moment longer. I won't be late,” he assured.

She gave him a nervous look that said please don't cut it too close. He only had to watch several more seconds before he saw him. “Father Rayhis!” he shouted running to him. The old man was walking with a cane and he had a nurse at his side. Donovon wrapped his arms around Father Rayhis laughing.

    Father Rayhis was overjoyed, “My you've grown fast my son. Where is Pauline?”

    “She's already on stage,” Donovon informed. “I need to get up there too. We are so looking forward to talking to you afterward.”

    “But, my son, I must talk to you,” Father Rayhis replied. “I was told never to tell it for it is dangerous to tell but I've determined that I must tell you.”

    “You'll have to tell me afterward,” Donovon said pulling away from him.

    “No, I must tell you now,” Father Rayhis insisted, “It is about the-”

    “I'm sorry, the show's starting,” Donovon interrupted as he hurried toward the stage.

    As Donovon ran away Father Rayhis shouted one more phrase, “You have the key, Donovon. You have it!”

    Donovon met Pauline behind the curtain, and she only had a second to scold him before they opened the curtains. Right before they departed he said, “Father Rayhis is here!”

He sat down on his side and she on her's as they play began. He could tell she was excited that Father Rayhis was present. They tried to communicate reading each other's lips and motioning with their hands as the play went on between them.

    Then suddenly Donovon's eyes widened. In his haste he hadn't really been listening to the last phrase that Father Rayhis had shouted after him, but his subconscious must have heard it because he was now realizing. “What does he mean I have the key? How could I have the key?” he thought hard as he clutched his necklace. Then his eyes got huge. He slowly looked down at the necklace in his hand, and then back up at Pauline his breath stopping in stunned revelation. “All these years,” he mused amazed. “All these years and I've been so close all along.” Hope was filling his heart. He felt like he was going to explode, and he yearned to tell Pauline. He was paying very little attention to the grand finale for suddenly it seemed to come second to the other story that was playing out on the stage.     The 1^st and 2^nd acts ended and at long last the intermission came. Donovon ran down the side stage steps and met Pauline in the front of the auditorium grabbing her shoulders.

“What's going on?” she asked, “Why were you going crazy over there?”

His wild blue eyes stared into hers and his breath was short. Finally he replied, “We might have to change our script a little.”

    “What,” she responded.

    “We might have to change the whole thing actually,” he said excitedly. “Just follow my lead.”

    “Have you gone mad,” she said pulling away from him.

    “Trust me,” was all he would say. “We may save this theater yet. Put on your outfit still though. Everything goes as planned.”

    She couldn't speak.

    “It'll be okay. Just follow my lead,” he said scurrying back to his post. “It will work beautifully.”

    She scanned the audience quickly in hopes of spying Father Rayhis and then also returned to her post by the curtain.

    They returned so quickly from the intermission so they'd have time enough to wrap themselves in the curtains and change into the costumes Pauline had stolen. The costumes were very handsome and they fit just right.

    The fourth and final act began to wrap up. The time for their surprise entrance lay just around the corner. Donovon could tell even from the other side of the stage that she was very scared. She had already been nervous, but now since he had changed the plans she was completely on edge. However, he hadn't told her his realization because he wanted her to be as surprised as everyone else. He felt a little bad for that but he was sure she would be happy soon.

    Then suddenly his thoughts were interrupted as he realized that the fourth Act was in its ending. Like a flash the play ended. His heart began pounding hard as the audience applauded. He tried to breathe deeply and gain composer as all the performers returned to the stage to bow. He rose to his feet shaking just a little as the performers departed from the audience’s sight.

    The audience waited for the curtains to close, but they didn't close. The cheers stopped as they something that they hadn't expected to see. A young boy in his early teens strode out to the middle of the limelight.

    Donovon looked over at Pauline as she bravely ventured out to meet him trusting him recklessly. They were decked out in beautiful white attire with a hint of reddish gray seems. Donovon looked out into the blinding lights and the staring faces. He tried to breathe normally putting his hands behind his back so no one would see that they were shaking. He found Father Rayhis sitting in one of the very back rows.

    “Donovon!” Master Peire's voice shouted with rage.

    At the top of his lungs Donovon shouted, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the mystery of Bricesin Theater.” He strode back quickly to the podium and tore away the sheet. He hesitated a moment and then placed the diamond shaped object on the necklace in the keyhole of the podium. He turned it to the left and the floor began creaking. The audience gasped as ancient gears and wood slowly came to life. They were moving downward. Every single seat in the theater was slowly dropping through the floor. The stage upon which Donovon and Pauline stood also was moving into the depths of the old basement. Finally they came to rest, and there was utter silence for a long moment. The stage was still well lit from the lights above. Then the audience suddenly began to cheer. They cheered louder and longer than for the actual play. Even the actors and actresses who had been lowered by the stage were cheering amazed.

    “Donovon!” Master Peire shouted rising form his seat. “You had no right to keep this from me, you filthy mophead!” Master Peire climbed on top of the stage and seemed about to lay hands on the maintenance boy, but there was a shout from the audience.

“Mr. Peire! That is no ordinary maintenance boy you have there.” An old man rose from his seat and stared toward the stage. His nurse hurried to catch up to him obviously clueless as to what was taking place.

    “Father Rayhis!” Pauline yelled.

    “Hello child,” Father Rayhis replied. “I need to get on this stage.” Donovon and Pauline had to practically hoist him up as the nurse just watched with her hand over her mouth.

“Mr. Peire,” Father Rayhis spoke. “I have a story to tell you.” His body may have been weak but his voice was strong so that even the last row could understand him very clearly.

    “Fifteen years ago to the exact day the Grear Bricesin, who built this theater, was told by a messenger that his wife had gone into labor. He quickly canceled the grand opening of his new theater and rode away quickly on his horse. He took with him only his closest colleague and that was me, but he rode so fast I couldn't keep up.

    You must understand, the theater that my friend had built had become rather famous and therefore rather valuable. There were rotten men in London who wanted nothing more than to take ownership of the theater by force from the Great Bricesin. My friend was usually careful were he trod, but the thought of his wife pushed him into recklessness that night. Tragically, there was a man expecting him at his destination. Arthur Bricesin was shot off his horse, and the murderer rushed to him tearing the keys from his jacket.”

    “How dare such a man,” came one of several angry shouts from the crowd.

    “This man,” Father Rayhis yelled with justice in his voice, “as you have guessed did not find the secret to the theater as he had hoped. However, he determined to host plays there for the theater would still make him rich.”

    “The dirty scoundrel,” a man shouted from the audience.

    “This man has since owned the theater and continued hosting plays to this day. This man is Burbley Peire!”

    The crowd that had been joyous a moment back was now in an uproar. Donovon and Pauline made eye contact and began to take in the weight of these truths. Donovon scanned for Master Peire but strangely he had hidden somewhere.

    “Where is the man?” someone in the crowd shouted. “We will give him what he deserves.”

“Surely this man does not deserve the breath that sustains him,” someone else shouted.

Another voice cried, “What proof do we have that these things are truth?”

    Father Rayhis put up his hand to silence the chaos. When the quiet had returned he spoke, “The story has not yet been fully told. When I found my friend he was in his dying breaths, but he manged to urge me to look after his family. He forced me to leave to assist his laboring wife who that night brought twins into the world.

    Now Bricesin's murderer had been fooled for he only grabbed the keys to the theater's front door, but the key to the theater remained with the dying man. Well, the last thing this dying man did was press the key to the theater's secret in my hand. That night I gave this key to Bricesin's wife. His wife died four years following and, and upon her death she put the key on a necklace and put it around her firstborn son's neck. Donovon's jaw dropped as he understood. At her death she told me never to tell the slightest word of all I knew lest there be any more sadness. She left her four-year-old son in my care who I raised here in this very theater. This boy who has tonight shown you this great mystery is the very son of the     Great Bricesin, and the rightful heir of the theater itself.”

    It was slowly beginning to sink in for Donovon.

    The audience began to cheer. Everyone was clapping and some shouted, “Horah, for the Great Bricesin has left us a son!” Donovon looked out at the sea of people overwhelmed by this turn of events.

    Then someone screamed above the noise, “Bring before us the killer that we may rid the world of him and reward the rightful heir what he deserves.”

    “Yes we will right this wrong without further delay,” someone else joined in.

    “No, he still deserves a trial,” someone pointed out.

    “What further proof do we need than the key,” another voice argued.

Suddenly there was an ear piercing scream, “Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!” Everyone's eyes turned to the side of the stage. Master Peire had captured Pauline and he had a gun to her face.

    “Here's the deal,” Master Peire yelled in the stunned theater, “Everyone in this place must do exactly what I say, or I will kill this girl.”

    Pauline stopped fighting looking at Donovon with trembling eyes.

    “Donovon,” Master Peire commanded, “first of all I need you to raise us up out of this basement. Do it now.”

    Donovon hesitated only a moment and then proceeded to the podium his mind a blur. Upon reaching the podium he had a crazy idea. It seemed as though he would do Master's Peire's bidding, but suddenly he reached down and started turning the wheel on the podium labeled “setting.” Donovon turned the wheel swiftly. Suddenly the basement started changing. It was not the basement any longer. It became a sunny grass covered landscape and then a snowy field. It seemed to everyone that they were traveling to many worlds. Much louder now Donovon heard the whooshing sound he had heard so many times from above while rotating the wheel. Now it was a desert and now an ocean floor and now a rainy hillside. He thought back to the Great Bricesin's famous words, “I want to tell souls the story of redemption and take spirits to new worlds.” No one had ever really understood the second part of that quote. How does an actor take his audience to new worlds in the walls of a theater. Well, this was Bricesin's answer. He built his own theater. Everyone was trying to understand how it was happening. Perhaps, he had rigged the walls to change and create the illusion that you were in these different scenes, but Donovon had the feeling the designer had discovered something a little greater than that. It was as if the designer had somehow harnessed something of a supernatural force allowing him to partially enter into a supernatural world. Donovon himself had considered such an experiment, and this was now no surprise seeing that he was the son of the famous actor.

    All this he considered in seconds as he cycled through spectacular worlds. Now it was a rainforest and then a rocky beach and then a flash of a world the likes of which no one had ever seen. Master Peire was startled almost enough for Pauline to free herself. Donovon was looking for a certain world, and suddenly he found it. It was pitch black outer space. No one could see.

    Master Peire shouted, “Donovon! No more fooling around! I'll kill her!”

There was a scream, a struggle, a gunshot and a body hit the floor.

Donovon's heart froze in shock and disbelief. “What have I done? I didn't think he'd do it.” He moved to the podium wheel and changed it to a valley sunset. Pauline and Master Peire were on the ground. Donovon raced to her and feel to his knees tears welling up.

She was shaking, but she said, “I'm okay! I'm not hurt.”

    Donovon looked and realized that Master Peire was the one who had been shot. One of the actors took advantage of the darkness by wrestling away the gun and shooting Peire with it. Donovon's plan had worked, but he hadn't really intended to kill Master Peire.

The actor stood posed over Master Peire about to finish him when Donovon yelled, “No!” jumping in between them. “Don't kill him.” The actor wore a surprised expression.

The audience was watching with baited breath. Donovon turned to Master Peire, but the dying man wouldn't make eye contact with him.

    “Why did you do that,” Master Peire uttered.

    Donovon was silent as he gazed seriously into his face.

    “You shouldn't have stopped him,” Master Peire said coughing. “Don't do this to me.”

    “Maybe you're not so dark hearted as you think, Master Peire,” Donovon replied.

    “Just let me die, Donovon,” Master Peire said in a horse whisper.

    “I just don't want to let you go until you know I'm not going to hold what you've done to me against you,” Donovon said.

    “Why wouldn't you hold it against me?” Peire replied.

    Donovon paused for a moment unsure of how to answer. Then he finally whispered, “I just want to be the son of my father.”

    Peire sighed a little his breath restrained, “Well, Arthur Bricesin was a great man, and I guess you turned out to be the same.”

    Donovon was searching searching searching trying to understand what he was supposed to do. What would The Great Bricesin have done. How does redemption work in this situation?

    Peire spoke silently, “Okay Donovon, All I wanted was to be a great man, but I've failed. You have beat me, you and your father. I should have known I guess. But please, just let me go now. Have you no dignity for that?

    Donovon was still staring silent.

    “Let me go, Donovon!” Peire raised his voice, “You win! Just let me die!!!”

For the first time ever Donovon raised his voice back, “I will not let you go till you know I won't hold it against you!”

    Peire tried to shout back, but he suddenly went into a series of horrible bloody coughs. His time was very short now. Donovon reached over and clutched his hand strongly as he could and locked eyes to Peire's. “You must not give up hope. You are a better man than it seems. Somewhere, sometime you are a better man. Deep, deep down inside you has been something good that will take you over till the memory of your old self has even faded. And somewhere, sometime you are fighting for something good, saving lives, holding back the night with your great strength, so they can get out unharmed, you sacrifice yourself. And in that day no one will remember you as a killer. One day you will be a hero.” Donovon paused then continued softly, “You just have to believe.” He pointed to Master Peire's heart saying, “believe. Believe that nothing is held against you. You will pass into this sunset for I know what we see on the walls before us in not an illusion as it seems. It is real and you will now pass into it and find there the pathways to all dreams.”

    Donovon paused again and then realized Peire was gone. Donovon noticed the slightest tear in the man's eye convincing him that his words had finally broken through the heart of stone.

    Donovon released his hand and rose to his feet with a blank expression. He looked into the silent theater.

Father Rayhis walked to him and spoke emphatically, “You are, indeed, your father's son, Donovon Bricesin.”

The actor who shot Peire slowly began to clap and gradually others joined him until the entire theater was cheering. Donovon looked out a little shyly. Pauline hugged him.

    “I'm so happy for you,” she said. “You deserve to be the Bricesin's son, and now look you have saved the theater too.”

    Donovon was still speechless. However, when the clapping had relented he suddenly turned to Father Rayhis and said, “How many worlds are there on that podium?”

    “Ha,” Father Rayhis laughed hysterically. “You haven't seen anything yet, boy.” The old man skipped over to the podium and poked a disguised button on the side. The podium unfolded into a 20 foot wide control panel with knobs, buttons, and lights flashing awaiting response.

    “This one's for The Great Bricesin, what do you say?” he smiled as he deftly adjusted a few things on the control panel.

    The room had begun changing deeper than before. It was not swooshing to another scene. It was melting to where up is down and down is up. The horizon became near and then they passed beyond it. Voices were heard. A song was becoming apparent to their ears, and ever so faint shadows of the ghostly angels who sung it glowed just a bit into the eyesight their radiance engulfing. The song was sweet and strong. No one could look directly at these people who were like mirrors reflecting a galaxy of glory. Donovon realized they were moving up and suddenly they reached the theater's main floor and it was over. They looked around at each other and at the walls and the ceiling and the floor.

    “That was awesome,” Donovon spoke frankly.

    Father Rayhis winked. He was almost a singer too, and knew much.

    “There just one question though.” Donovon said. “You said my mother had twins. Do I have a brother somewhere?”

    “A sister,” he replied. “You still haven't figured that out? It's Pauline.”

    Pauline screamed in bliss and jumped into Donovon's arms. The curtains of Bricesin theater closed, but not for the last time.

The Sound From the Attic

    There was a family who's name was Careheart. One night, they heard a sound from the attic. It was their youngest daughter Hannah who heard it first. At first, she thought it was nothing. However, she soon heard it again and then again as it passed in and out of her hearing range. The ten-year-old walked around the living room testing to see if the sound became louder or quieter. Finally she realized it was coming from the rusty attic hatch. This sound was not like what you normally hear a house make. It was not a bumping or rubbing. It was soft and gentle. It called to her in a strange way. For a second she stared up at it and then ran to tell her father.

    Soon the whole family had gathered around, straining their ears to hear the curious sound as they looked up. No one ever went into the attic except on rare occasions, and no one had been up there in a long, long time. The wavering sound had started so hesitant, but now it was growing louder as if it were trying to get their attention. They were starting to make it out in detail. It was almost musical. Yes, in fact, as fourteen-year-old Ruby stated, “It is music.” Indeed, there were clear notes as if someone was playing music in the attic. However, it did not sound like a band for it was a single instrument.

    “It sounds almost like an old piano,” seventeen-year-old Jenifer was saying. This is interesting because the Careheart's have an old piano in their attic, but of course no one plays it anymore. To add to that, there was only one person in the family who knows how to play piano and that is their twenty-one-year old son, Joseph. In the past, he would sometimes lower the dusty attic hatch ladder stairs, and lead Hannah up by the hand because the attic was scary. When they had moved their way through the clutter, Joseph would sit down at the piano and play simple, cheerful tunes for her. However, the sound in the attic today was not cheerful. Still it could be Joseph's playing Hannah thought. One strange detail was that Joseph was not with the family tonight. As a matter of fact he was thought to have been murdered last night in the Careheart's living room.

    The scene last night went as follows. Only Hannah and Joseph had been home. The criminal, who was named Daniel Brigsbe, had apparently crept in through a window into the living room. Hannah, rounding the living room corner, screamed when she saw him. Mr. Brigsbe had a gun in his hand and he was pointing it at her when Joseph rushed in. Joseph tackled Mr. Brigsbe from behind breaking the criminal's leg. Joseph managed to grab Mr. Brigsbe's gun and stand up, but things would not go well after this.

    “Hannah, go call 911,” Joseph said as he pointed the gun at Mr. Brigsbe who lay on the ground.

    Hannah was frozen in freight, so Joseph cautiously reached for his cell phone. Like a flash of lightning, Mr. Brigsbe pulled another gun out of his pants and fired it at Joseph. Joseph fell back and lay on the ground. Hannah screamed and ran to her room. She dialed 911 and then called her parents who rushed home quickly but not before the police arrived. They found Hannah shaking in her room. In the living room they found only a blood stain on the carpet, but both Mr. Brigsbe and Joseph were no where to be seen.

Right before she fled, Hannah remembered the living room clock reading 8:41. This is very interesting because when she first noticed the sound today she recalled that the clock had read 8:41. It was like the noise did not want there to be any mistake this was the aftermath of the horrific scene last night.

    As the family listened, the sound went on a long time. Finally, Mr. Careheart announced, “I'm going up.” There were a few objections from Mrs. Careheart and others. However, he knew he must ensure the safety of his family. So, he reached up and pulled down the attic stairs. As he did, the stairs made a loud creaking, and at this the music abruptly stopped. Mr. Careheart froze with the stairs in his arms, and they all listened closely. The sound was indeed gone. After peering up into the darkness for a moment, Mr. Careheart started walking very cautiously up the stairs holding the flashlight that Ruby had fetched for him. He put a foot on attic's wooden floor and flashed his light around courageously. He noticed some moonlight creeping in through the attic window. He then started moving over to the piano slowly and cautiously. He was inspecting it closely when he noticed something very terrifying. On the music stand of the piano was written a word in the dust. Actually it was a name he realized. It said, “Hannah.” How had this appeared here? He rubbed it out with his hand and hurried back down the attic's ladder stairs. When reaching the living room he looked at them and shrugged his shoulders. He would later tell them of the writing on the piano. He was content for now seeing that the music had stopped. The family tried to go through their normal bedtime routines as they considered the strange sound. Of course they were all thinking of last night as well.

    The older sibling, Jennifer asked younger Hannah some questions about last night as they lay in bed. She was saying, “What did you hear while you in your room before the police came?”

    “I don't know,” Hannah cried, “I... shut the door.”

    “The police said that Mr. Brigsbe may have dragged Joseph out of the house,” Jennifer was saying for she had a way of being insensitive like this. “They even found blood out the back door and a ways into the woods.”

Hannah was silent.

    “Hannah, do you believe in ghosts?” Jennifer asked.

    “I... I don't know. I...” Hannah replied.

    Jennifer added, “Well, we'll just have to see if it happens again tomorrow night.”

It was like Jennifer didn't even care that Joseph was gone. Overall, the family was indeed shocked from the experience last night, but there was a funny feeling among them as if they were not yet sure that he had left them. They still had hope. The music in the attic flamed this hope, and they were not grieving for this reason.

    Despite the events, the family was able to fall asleep. That is everyone except Hannah, for she lay in bed listening for a long time. She could almost hear that music again. Suddenly, she shot up, but carefully as to not wake Jennifer. It was the middle of the night as she crept out into the living room. Alone she stood below the attic hatch staring up at it.

    She didn't notice, but there was a shadowy figure walking towards her in the dark. It came at her from behind and reached out. When it touched her she jumped a little, but the voice was gentle and loving, “Hannah, it's dad.” He did not even ask her what she was doing.

    Hannah sighed. After she had relaxed she looked up at the attic and spoke, “Daddy, Joseph isn't dead is he?”

    He replied softly, “I don't know. I certainly hope he isn't. But I'm trusting everything is okay no matter what.”

    Eventually Hannah got too sleepy and went to bed. She feel asleep quickly.

All questions remained unanswered. What was going on in the attic? What has caused that mysterious sound? Why did it stop when they went up? Most importantly, were is Joseph or at least his body? Is he alive?

    The next day was a long one. Hannah was home all day and she kept passing by the attic wondering if the music might be heard again but there was no sound. At 8:41 she made sure she was in the living room. Sure enough it started in a glimmer just like the previous night. Hannah ran to gather everyone. They all stood below the attic amazed that the sound at reappeared for the second night in a row. More quickly this time, Mr. Careheart opened the attic hatch. Once again the music stopped when he did. When he made his way to the attic floor, he was more thorough in his inspection. This time he wanted to make sure there could be no one hiding anywhere in the cluttered attic. He thought maybe someone was playing a joke by playing the piano and then hiding when he came up. Not finding anything, he was just about to leave when he noticed that the attic window had been touched since last night. Yes, it surely had markings in the dust that weren't there last night. He slowly worked his way toward it stepping over junk. Not until he was right next to it did completely make it out, “Hannah.” Startled, he smeared it out. Once again he knew nothing more he could do, so he left the attic for the second night. The family also thought it very peculiar when he told them of the writing. Perhaps, he should not have told them, but Mr. Careheart had a certain way of trusting that it would work out. Once again, the family started making their way to bed.

    As they were getting a bedtime snack, Jennifer asked her younger brother, “Ruby, do you believe in ghosts?”

    “I don't know,” he replied thinking carefully. “I guess it wouldn't surprise me. But I'm not afraid of them. Fear is their best weapon. They can't hurt you you know.”

    “How do you know?” Jenifer answered. “What if it's Joseph's ghost in that attic?”

    “Well, then I wouldn't be afraid at all,” Ruby laughed. “He would be the nicest ghost ever.”

Jennifer questioned, “But why does he keep writing 'Hannah' up there as if he wants Hannah to come up. That's what this is all about right? That's why he plays the piano. You know it has to be him. He wants her to come up.”

    “I don't know,” Ruby hesitated.

    “You know what I think,” Jennifer continued. “Well, you know what the cops said.”

    “Jen, Dad said not to talk about that,” Ruby rebuked. “There's no chance that could be true.”

    “Isn't there. No one saw the scene take place. We all just believed Hannah's story. What if she did kill him and that's why he's calling to her. He wants his revenge,” stated the cynical Jennifer.

    “Shut up, Jenn!” Ruby replied defiantly,”Hannah would never do that?”

    “I've never understood her,” Jennifer responded.

That night everyone lay down, but Hannah lay awake. A long time passed as she lay motionless. What time was it? She looked at the clock and it was exactly the same time she rose the previous night. She thought she could hear that music in her head again as if it were traveling on some supernatural sound waves from the attic. She got up and traveled out of the room. Upon reaching the living room she soon was aware of a someone else close by. She expected to see her father, but he never appeared. She thought it was as if he wanted to stay out of the way. However, she knew he was there for her. She stood staring up at the attic again wishing Joseph would just come right down, but he did not. She had the strange urge to go up herself. Wouldn't her father stop her? She had a funny feeling he might not. It would take a lot of courage, but she had a sense that this story was revolving around her and maybe if she found that courage to go up it could somehow set Joseph free. She realized she was thinking optimistically. Still, she was getting to the point where she was ready right now to reach up and pull down the attic stairs. However, she was getting very drowsy, and soon she made her back to bed.

    The next day was Sunday. This third day seemed so long, and Hannah kept looking at the clock waiting for night to fall.

    The family was still clinging to the hope that the sound in the attic might be connected to Joseph still being alive. They were getting pretty on edge. Hannah was the only one who didn't have any hope that he was alive. She was convinced he had indeed been killed. She wanted to believe as her family did, but there was a good reason for her doubt. She had insight on this mystery that no one else had. This was because she knew Joseph better than anyone in the family. Over the last two days, she had slowly developed a theory, and it could indeed be tested. Joseph had spent so much time with her trying to bring her out of her shell. He really cared for her, and despite their age difference their relationship had started to reach the point were they could predict each other's behavior. Therefore, she knew exactly what he would have done if he was dying. In addition, her theory lined up with blood found in the back door way and the woods. Hannah's theory was that no one had found Joseph's body because he didn't want them to find it. Joseph always had a funny way of making nothing of death, and he always considered the formalities associated with death especially silly. Also, Joseph was one of the kindest souls on the planet and he would not have wanted them to find him in their house. Hannah wondered if he might have struggled his way out the back door and out into the woods to die alone. The scary part is, like I mentioned, the theory could be tested. This is because she knew exactly where in the woods he would have decided to rest. She was thinking of a certain place not far away from the house were a old fallen oak tree rests over a large ditch. Joseph used to take her to this spot, and they would slip in feeling completely hidden from the world. Indeed, his body would also be hidden from the police even if they followed his trail. It is very hard to find the entrance if you haven't been shown. This theory wouldn't explain the music in the attic at all, but Hannah would soon think up a pretty solid theory for the music as well. Hannah knew she would eventually have to go out and see if she might be right about Joseph. She would go out herself and if she found him she would go back and tell the family. Yet, she really didn't want to go until the music stopped. However, as night finally began to fall this idea was bothering her too much. She had to go out into the woods and test her fears. She figured if he were not in that ditch then she would be hopeful that tonight might be the night that he would reappear. She bravely started walking through the misty woods, but she started to realize how frightened she would be to see his body resting in the ditch. Maybe she would be able to smell it from far enough away not to have to look. She shuddered wondering if maybe she should have asked her father to come with her. She had told him she was going for a walk in the woods. She never lied to anyone. Hannah slowed as she approached the spot. She was only ten-years-old, and Joseph had always been so much security to her. It was very hard to be brave without him even if her father was so strong and loving. The last rays of sunlight shown through the leaves in a mystical way that just seemed to make Hannah feel more on edge. With Joseph she could do anything even if she was afraid, but right now as she was spotted the fallen tree, she really felt like running away. Hannah was inching forward so afraid she might smell or see something to confirm her fears. Her stomach churned as she saw the entrance. Her breath was fast and her heart pounded heavy as she knelt down to peer in. There was nothing.

    Hannah felt relieved as she raced the setting sun back to the house. She saw her house ahead a ways. Then she saw something very startling. You see, the window in the attic of the Careheart's house overlooks the woods that Hannah was in. When Hannah was still a ways away thought she might have seen a shadowy silhouette walk across the view of the attic window. She panicked and ran towards the house so worried that every step might bring some kind of disaster. When she was safely inside, she began to wonder at the meaning of the shadow in the attic. If Joseph were in that attic alive, why didn't he just come down or at least show himself when her father went up. This was all so odd. It was a murder mystery were no one knew where either the victim or the murderer had ended up or even if there was a murder. True, she had seen with her own eyes that Joseph fell at the shot of Mr. Brigsbe's cruel bullet, but nothing made sense after that.

    Then suddenly a new theory seized her. This was by far the most horrifying idea yet, and it would so perfectly explain the piano music every night. It would also explain why her name kept appearing in the attic. She would not dare tell them, but she was sure she had cracked it and it was the worst possible outcome indeed.

    When the music did indeed start right on time at 8:41, she thought back to shadow in the window she had seen. Hannah tried not to wear it on her face as the rest listened to the music play. Mrs. Careheart had suggested that they see if they try to wait out the music today. How long would it last if they did nothing? So they waited and waited. The sound quieted a few times and sounded like it might have stopped, but then it would rear back up. It was the same melody every time although it changed slightly. The Carehearts stuck with the plan and a few of them even started to get ready for bed as they waited. It was 9:30 and the music played on. If someone was playing that sound they were obviously desperate to be noticed. This was no practical joke. It was as if this were a life and death matter. Hannah was worried she knew why. The music had beaten them in this battle of patience because Mr. Careheart was lowering the stairs, and once more the sound stopped immediately.

After climbing up, Mr. Careheart boldly strode his way through the attic. Could there be anyway someone could have avoided his inspection the previous two nights? He knew this would be his last night in the attic. He was starting to even get a little annoyed. He raised his voice and yelled at whoever or whatever it was. He was calm though and tried to reason with it, but there was no response. He thought it was strange that he had not seen Hannah's name written in dust tonight.

    He had been up there a long time when he finally tried something he hadn't yet. He pulled out the piano bench and sat down at the piano. After a moment, he carefully pressed a key with his finger and let the tone ring out. To his horror, he was shocked to hear the same exact note play again within the piano, yet the key hadn't moved. It was as if the hammer had struck the string inside the piano on its own. With great courage he calmed himself, and played a different note. Even quicker this time the exact note replied. He played a few more notes just to make sure there was no mistake. Every note he played was mimicked by the piano. He was genuinely starting to believe this was supernatural when something really crazy happened. He noticed a torn piece of paper flutter down and land on the piano. He quickly picked it up and shone his flashlight on it. On it was written, “Hannah.” He crumpled the piece of paper and flew down the attic stairs.

    When reaching the bottom he announced, “Tomorrow... we are going to take that piano out of the attic and take it to the dump.” After telling them all that had occurred they were all in agreement except that Hannah said nothing. This is because everything that had happened tonight confirmed her new theory to the point where she could almost guarantee herself it was accurate.

    That night she lay in bed with eyes wide open as they could be. She was fixed on the doorway of her room so worried that something would come through it. Everyone has been afraid. There is power in fear. It speaks of something more than our world. It cannot be dismissed for no matter how much we learn about our world, in these moments of fear it is though we know nothing. In those moments one can learn to trust in something. Hannah was learning to trust. She was learning to trust as her father trusted. His faith was a miracle. She was finding this faith tonight. It is a faith that everything will be okay, and that there is something greater than me and greater than the fear that will watch out for me. It was this faith alone that night that allowed Hannah to rise, although shaking, and walk right at her fear. It had been easy to walk into the living room when she hadn't realized what really might be going on, but now she was sure she knew what awaited in the attic. Every single muscle was as tense as it could be as she walked over to the attach hatch. It had begun to storm outside and a crash of thunder made her jump almost come out of her skin. She hadn't seen any sight of her father, but she knew he must be close. Even if he had started to believe that this attic adventure was something he didn't want to mess with he had enough faith to allow Hannah's story to play out. He could sense something that Hannah had not fulled sensed herself. The whole story was centered around her, and it would change her life.

    Yet, in this moment Hannah was not entirely sure she would live through it. The murder scene kept flashing through her mind. It wasn't the part about Joseph getting shot that was terrifying, but the part directly following. The question was how had both Joseph and Mr. Brigsbe both disappeared? She knew if Joseph were in the attic he wouldn't be playing this game. She believed he must have gone out in the woods and rested somewhere where Hannah would not look for him. Yes, whoever was in the attic had to be someone else. There could only be one explanation. It was the criminal. Mr. Brigsbe was in the attic.

She had to get a stool to reach the attic hatch, but she managed to get the handle and ever so quietly lower it to the floor. Forcing her body to move despite every fearful signal she put a foot on the first step.

    After shooting Joseph, Mr. Brigsbe must have climbed up the attic stairs to escape. He would not have been able to run away because of his broken leg, but while his adrenaline was still going he may have managed to climb the creaky attic strairs and pull up the hatch behind him. Hannah remembered how when her father first lowered the stairs they were not quite as dusty as should have been expected for having gone untouched for months.

The storm outside raged on as Hannah slowly made more progress up the stairs straining her eyes to see up into the dark.

    She knew where Mr. Brigsbe was hiding too. This was too simple. Sometimes on those trips to the attic Joseph would show her a funny trick with the piano. He would open the piano's cover and climb inside. There was just enough room for him to close the cover over his head. Then her amusement he would then play the piano's hammer's from the inside without the keys even moving. He had to play backwards because he was facing the wrong way so he couldn't get to complicated with his songs. Mr. Brigsbe must have been quick to realize he could hide in the piano too.

    Her head was above the attic floor now. She pause there for a second which may have been a mistake for it was hard to start again.

    She was realizing that during the day Mr. Brigsbe must have exited his hiding spot to write Hannah's name on dusty surfaces for her father to find. Then he would conceal himself in the piano and begin to play at the exact minute that he shot Joseph so that Hannah would know it was him. After all, Mr. Brigsbe did not come into the house to kill Joseph. For reasons no one but he knew he had come to kill Hannah. The reason he had tried so hard to get her to come by herself to the attic was because he still wanted to kill her. All this she was thinking as she stood on the attic floor. She was facing the most imminent danger, and she was more terrified than she ever had been in her life but she felt that she was meant to be there even if it was to die. She felt that there was a life on the line that wasn't hers. This Joseph had known too.

    The lightning flashed in the window allowing her eyes to catch the silhouette of a man walking toward her. She could faintly see him now as he limped slowly. She stood her ground shaking. So seriously, he strode across the attic floor until she could see his face. It was a beaten, worn face. It looked like a face that had had enough of the earth, but he surely was no more than twenty-five. Hannah and the man stood there staring at each other for what seemed a millennium. She was waiting for him to do something. What was he thinking right now. Was he just taking his time? Was he going to kill her now? To her surprise, however, he seemly like he was trying to talk.

    He finally spoke in a horse whisper, “Why? Why didn't he shoot me?”

    Hannah was very incapable of answering, “Uh... I...”

He continued, “I was in his house trying to kill his sister. Why on earth did he not shoot me right there? I found that I wasn't prepared to die, but I thought it was over for me.”

Hannah swallowed and finally attempted to speak, “Maybe that's why he didn't do it? You weren't ready.” At her comment he looked puzzled. She tried to continue, “He always told me that he would die for anyone. He said it was because he had hope, but he wouldn't want them to die without hope.”

    “Is there really anything worth hoping in?” he asked.

    She almost started to cry saying, “Yes, I think there is. Joseph thought so.”

    “Why did I shoot him?” Mr. Brigsbe said looking away. “I didn't mean to kill him. I just thought he was going to kill me and I wanted to scare him,” he explained.

    Hannah was relieved at this amazing turn of events but now realizing that her hope that Joseph was still alive had probably been officially put to rest. “I was really hoping he would still be here.” she said. Then she added, “But I'm glad you...”

    He spoke because she couldn't finish, “I'm am so sorry. I have thought so hard the last few days. I need to find my brother. I just want to give my life for-”

    “Wait a minute!” Hannah exclaimed her eyes lighting up with a faint glimmer of hope. “You said... You said you were just trying to scare him?”

    “I could have sworn I missed him, little girl,” he said.

    Then her hope sank as she said, “But if you missed him then were did all the blood come from?”

    Then he his face lit up, “Uh, well, I badly cut my hand on the fireplace when he tackled me. But I-”

    “Did you walk out the back door and into the woods?” she questioned eagerly.

    “Ye... Yes, I... When I had limped out into the woods a ways I started thinking. I started wondering why he didn't end my life. I just had to know. I... I guess that's why I came back. I don't know how I climbed to the roof and through that window to make it here. I don't even-”

    “You climbed through the window!” she exclaimed. He was still clueless as to what she had considered, but he was glad she wasn't sad.

    He continued his revelation, “When I heard the music play the next night I wrote your name on the piano hoping you would come up. I thought you might be able to tell me why he didn't kill me. But I thought your dad would kill me for sure if he found me. When he came up I hid in the rafters up there where the-”

    “What! What! You didn't hide in the piano!” she exploded, “You didn't play the piano! You mean you didn't play the piano at all!”

    “No, I... I don't even know how to play. It was something supernatural I guess that played it,” he considered.

    “Or maybe you didn't shoot Joseph. Maybe he just faked it hoping you'd to leave the house if you thought he was dead. That was clever of him,” Hannah spoke. “When he heard you leave out the back door he climbed up into the attic to watch you from the attic window as you escaped through woods. He wanted to see you better. It must have been quite a shock for him when you appeared on the roof right in front of his eyes. He realized you were coming through the window right into the attic. He must have bolted for the one hiding place he knew was safe! The piano,” she whispered.

    His eyes lit up in a hilarious way.

    “Could it be?” she whispered. “That means the music was just a call for help because he thought that if he tried to escape the piano at anytime you would attack him again.”

Hannah walked over to the piano slowly. She slowly pulled the piano bench out and sat down. “Could it be? Please, please, please, please, Joseph, please, please, answer me, Joseph.” Hannah carefully played a key, and waited with heart pounding. There was nothing but silence. Then, finally, a hushed response of the exact note came from inside. Hannah looked up as the cover of the piano rose cautiously. She smiled as she saw his beloved face and breathed his name, “Joseph!”