The wardrobe door was swinging open, slowly, deliberately, its hinges moaning under the strain. It rocked once, twice, as if teased by an unseen hand. The candlelight trembled across the mirror, throwing my reflection into warped shapes.
“Who’s there?” My voice cracked like brittle glass.
Only the hollow breath of wind answered.
Poe’s wings burst into motion, the sudden sound making my heart jolt painfully. He circled the room once before landing on the windowsill. With a single sharp peck at the pane, he turned toward me, black eyes gleaming like oil in the dim light.
I’m out of here, his look seemed to say.
“You’re going to leave me?” I whispered hoarsely, my lips trembling despite my attempt at levity. I crossed to the window, as he pecked again, each step a battle between courage and foolishness. The night air rushed in cold and damp when I pushed the pane up, smelling of rain and decay.
“Some hero you are,” I told him sourly, “if I die, you’d better tell someone what happened.”
“Farewell… my Lenore,” Poe crooned, his voice a silken dirge before he launched himself into the night. His silhouette vanished into the fog beyond the garden wall.
I stood there for a moment, staring into the darkness, the echo of his wings fading like a heartbeat.
Farewell, my Lenore.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound returned, sharper now, nearer. The wardrobe door stood partially open, its interior a yawning mouth of shadows. And this time, I knew.
The noise was coming from inside.
I turned toward it slowly, my pulse hammering in my throat.
The candle on the table next to it flickered, the flame guttering low as if trying to retreat. The tapping grew louder. Metal scraped against wood.
My hands twisted together until my knuckles burned.
Don’t open it.
Don’t open it.
And yet… I had to.
If there was truth to be found, it was behind that door. Proof that I wasn’t losing my mind. Proof that there was something wrong in this house beyond me.
“This is it,” I encouraged myself, stepping closer. “This is my chance.”
The floor groaned under my bare feet. My fingersbrushed the wardrobe’s edge.
A breath I didn’t know I was holding shuddered loose.
‘Here I opened wide the door—darkness there and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing…’
The wardrobe gave a groan as the door swung fully open, its hinges screaming one final warning before silence reclaimed the room.
Inside, the faintest breath of air brushed against my skin. Cold. Damp. Moving.
Not just a wardrobe at all. There was a faux panel in the back.
I pressed my hand to the wood, it groaned as I slid it aside with ease. My pulse stuttered. I reached for the candlestick, my trembling fingers grazing melted wax. The tiny flame quivered but thankfully didn’t die. I lifted it toward the dark.
A narrow passageway yawned before me, swallowed in shadow. Its walls were of rough-hewn stone, slick with moisture, the air thick with dust and something coppery.
My throat constricted. “Oh, God…” I breathed.
