I grew up in a rich suburb of Massachusetts in the late 50s. My father had a job as a lawyer and he brought in a lot of money for the family, which me and my mom mostly spent on getting our nails and hair done, and going to fancy parties hosted at what is now known as the country club. We were living luxurious and I couldn’t have been happier. Growing up rich as a little girl meant I had all the toys I wanted, all the beautiful hats and dresses that my peers longed for, I had. My mother and father never really got along, and he often complained about how my mother was spending the money he was bringing in, he brought up the fact that as the woman of the house, my mother should’ve been using the money he brought to clean and make him dinners. My mother never let up, and eventually when I was 14, my father hit his breaking point and kicked us out of the house. Going through the divorce, we lost all of our money and we were forced to move out of the rich town I had grown up in.
My mother bought a house and moved us to a small beach town in Maine called Brock. The moment we stepped into the town the entire atmosphere changed and my body was overcome by melancholy. The town was painted shades of grey and rain poured from the sky. A sense of gloom and sadness hung over the town, and even the kids my age were dull and acted as though the life had been completely drained out of them. My mother worked as a journalist for the local paper, and she was always busy trying to keep us afloat. I spent the whole summer on my own, on my old rusted bike that my mother bought for dirt cheap from some local store. I had no friends, and the only way I could enjoy my time, even a little bit, was to go to the library every day. I would always choose the same chair, the red armchair in the back right corner that smelled of must and mildew. I’d sit in that chair and draw every day from open to close, 10am-7pm. Next to my chair there was a little door with caution tape all over it. Curiosity ate away at my brain like maggots, but I never opened the door.
I never opened the door until august 4th, 1962. My mother and I had had a horrible fight the night before, which ended in me saying that I hated her and I hoped she’d die so I could live with my dad again. I never knew I’d regret saying that my entire life. The next morning I biked to to the library as usual, and this time I decided I was going to open that door. The library was never busy, so it was almost too easy. When I pried the door open, I was greeted by a staircase and a low light glimmering at the end. I should’ve turned back there, I should’ve gone home and apologized to my mother, but I was a kid, curiosity overcame me. I walked down the staircase and into the light. I was met with a room made entirely of cobblestone, it reeked of death and the sadness I felt In that room was the strangest feeling of my life, and it still is to this day. It was like I couldn’t even breathe.
In the middle of the room was a huge golden chest, one that looked like it’d been used by pirates sometime in history. Surrounding the chest were four statues, one of a crocodile, a wolf, and a bear. They were made of gold, pure gold. The fourth statue was bigger then all the rest, and as soon as I looked at it I felt strangely pulled towards it, like I couldn’t escape the hold it had on me. It was of a symbol I knew all too well, the grim reaper. At the base of the statue held a small brass key. The key was used to unlock the chest, as I had suspected. Inside the chest was a note, and on top of the note laid a circular necklace with 4 symbols on it. One of a crocodile, of a wolf, of a bear and of a hatchet. The crocodile, lion and bear all had the word ‘completed’ written on top of them, but the hatchet glowed gold and read ‘uncompleted.’ I picked up the note from the bottom of the chest and read it, even all these years later I still remember exactly what It said. “No one can complete the fourth level. No one can. We tried. We tried. We tried. We tried. We tried” I laughed a little to myself in disbelief. This had to have been some elaborate prank on me. I pressed down on the hatchet symbol.
As soon as I pressed it, I knew this was not a prank. The room shook and glowed golden, and a huge figure rose up from inside the chest. I closed my eyes tight, i remember the feeling of fear that overtook me, I remember feeling each breath as it came and went, my heart thudding in my chest, the feeling of sadness I had felt before only growing bigger. Then it all went still. When I opened my eyes, I was at an empty beach. Golden sands under my feet, and the most beautiful water you’ve ever seen. Everything was so calm, i felt at peace. Ahead of me stood a tall man in all black, a mask covering his entire face and a crooked top hat on top of his head. He took his mask down, revealing only his eyes. they were yellow and beady, and they never blinked. I locked eyes with him and a booming voice sounded in my head. “The final level. You must kill someone you love, and carry out 5 deaths for me. You will serve as my henchman, delivering death for me. When you are finished, you’ll live here. With me, in eternal peace.” He held out a shimmering golden sword. “Speak.” I shook my head no, unable to speak, too scared to move. At that, he dragged his sword on the ground and slowly walked towards me. I conjured enough energy to move, and I turned to run. “Its too late, your mother is already dead. You’ve already disrupted my sleep. If you ever wish to change your mind, you know where to find me” That was the last of his voice I heard in my head.
The world around me morphed back into the room it once was, the cobblestone room full of coldness and sadness. I ran up the staircase, I frantically told the librarian to lock up the door once again. I told her to lock it good enough that no one will be able to re enter. She had a puzzled expression on her face, she looked at me like I was crazy. “What door?” she asked me. I turned to look one more time, and the door was gone, but I could still feel it, I could still feel him. I started back for the exit. “come again soon.” The librarian said in a distorted voice, deep and scratchy. I ran like I’ve never ran before, all the way home. When I got inside, my mother was no where to be found. she was gone, there were no signs she ever even lived there at all.
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60 years later im writing this, because I have finally made my decision. I never left the small town of Brock. I didn’t stay by choice, I tried to leave many times but I just can’t. Im tethered to this place, He keeps me here. I’ve never been happy since that day in august. I always feel the same feeling of melancholy I did when I was in that cobblestone room. I’ve felt it my whole life since that day. I had a husband, I got pregnant with him and had a still birth. We tried for children many other times and they all ended the same way, miscarriage. After the fourth child my husband killed himself. I tried to follow him, but I can’t. I tried to kill myself on multiple occasions, but they never worked. He wants me alive. I’ve made my decision, I know there is no hope of a happy life for me. As soon as I publish this I’m going to go. Im going to go back to the library, im going to live eternal peace. Because as he said, I know where to find him.