text: Henry looked up at the old woman and immediately felt rigid, as if he was frozen in ice. "Ok Harry, go hide.” She said endearingly. “I'll come look for you in 5 minutes. No sooner, no later." Not needing another queue, the ice exploded and the boy ran. Clothes like tattered kites and feet bare as the wind, he sprint low. Snaking down the hall and weaving through the old furniture like he was at soccer practice, Henry ran down to the far end of the mansion where the old lady couldn't hear. From the sounds of the house and the speed of the child Henry guessed she located their room before the game even began. And from the last few who tried he knew better than to choose a close room. His feet slapped hard against the carpet as he ran. The rooms at the far end of the mansion were no good... Checking them door by door, most of them smelled foul so he avoided those knowing they hadn't worked, some rooms were too empty, decaying floor boards and flicking lights whispered their hollowness. He needed a room full of stuff, one nobody had tried yet. Five minutes was not a lot of time, however. Mentally keeping track, Henry's pace rapidly became more and more reckless. Fingers of fear slithering their way into his mind, he stopped shutting doors at 2 minutes, stopped turning on or off lights at 3 minutes and stopped checking windows for a way out at 1. There was only time to race from room to room now. Desperately he tried to find a good spot. He found none. A whimper pushed its way out his throat as he spun round in the decrepit hall, his mind racing with nightmares. *Where!?* He mentally screamed. He looked to the barred windows and feared he would never get out. He fingered the badge on his shirt and feared he would never see his friends again. He stared down at the band-aid on his palm and longed for his family, his mother. He just wanted to help her find Tucker! He didn't mean to let him outside! Behind him a screech ripped down the hall. “No..” he feebly whispered. But the game had begun, the hag is coming. Heart thundering, Henry gazed upon the last and final door of the hall. Small and closet-like, he opened it hopeless, tears already welling up in his eyes, he was never going to get out of here, he was never going to see his family again he sobbed. But the game was not over yet! The room was stocked. An incline bed sat at the center of a weird, tiled, space surrounded by work benches and cabinets. Quickly and quietly the small boy dug into one of the benches not bothering to look at all the macabre instruments hanging round the room. A huge flood of relief pouring over him as he tightened into a ball and began praying for time to pass. A white cloth draped over the workbench helped to conceal his form as as he struggled to control his breathing, his shaking stilling down to a shiver. Down the hall his worst fears came to fruition, however, and like the charge of a bull he heard the destructive footfall of the crazy woman careening through the building. Henry's heart lurched into his throat. *PLEASE!...* he wanted to cry but stifled his breath. She had run right to him! The door burst open and slammed against the inside wall with a vicious crack. ******* "Harold...Henry...Harry” She sang, “Whatever your name is, come out, come out, where ever you are..." *This isn't fair!* Henry internally pleaded. It made no sense that she'd simply guessed where he was. It made no sense she didn't even check the other rooms. How was anyone supposed to win?! The hag was already moving bench to bench while he thought, assessing each tool with an unnatural glee, her voice became more and more twisted as she spoke. "Did you know bone saws make terrible cleavers?" She stated picking up another tool. "Or that scalpels are perfect for throwing? Have you ever wanted to know how someone else would look with your face or shake your own detached hand? Harold?!" No... If she knows where I am then the game is a lie. She wont let us go if we win because we can't win. She'd planned to kill every one of us from the start. Slowly Henry's fingers curled into a fist as the fullness of his naivety bared down on him. The boy shook his head and fought back tears. Abruptly, across the room the old woman flipped a table over, crashing an array of instruments to the ground. A cackle following suit. "Harold I like you. You're smarter than the rest. As soon as I saw you I knew I'd get a good game out of you... So I saved you for last." Violently she kicked another bench to the ground, a small chainsaw peeling as it scratched marks across the floor, the sound making Henry wince. "But the real game has yet to begin, soon we will be playing a different game. A better game. A game of screaming and laughter..." To Henrys dismay, the old woman changed direction and began walking as slow as she could toward him and like the flip of a switch, Henry's mind jarred as she turned, the dark reality coming down on him all at once. She reached his table with a casual clanging, each tool she passed receiving an endearing nudge of her personal hatchet. The sound like the perversion of a xylophone. "Very soon!" She rasp, leaning down and ripping back the cloth! There was no time to think, only to do. Henry had had enough of everything! Before he could realize it Henry had reached up atop the table, grabbed something, and lunged at the deranged hag with it. He couldn't even see if he'd struck her! In the last moments he'd closed his eyes shaking with fear, a cry pouring over his lips - time seeming to slow. When he opened his eyes the hag was still there, though. A small smile curling on her wrinkled lips. *Not fair!* Henry's entire body tightened like an ice sculpture, the idiot boy frozen by his own fear. ...But she hadn't moved. For what felt like an eternity Henry stared into the old woman's bulging yellow eyes and dry leathery skin. Until with a snort, a confused look crossed her face and she stumbled back. A metal handle revealing itself under her chin. Henry gasp. Blood poured then and like a fountain the boy cried while red began to gush. He needed to get out!Stumbling feebly, he made for the door, his small feet feeling like water beneath his knees. The old woman grabbed his shins as he past but her strength was gone. He slipped past her like seaweed. Basically collapsing he trudged as away from her before falling to a shivering heap... ******* He couldn't remember much of what he did next. Feverishly, hours later, he found a way out by one of the second floor windows, one already damaged by one of the other children trying to escape, and was able to make it to a road where he was picked up by a passerby. Henry lays in a hospital bed now, hardly believing he's escaped and still flinching at every footstep made toward his room from down the hall. Vacantly, on the TV, the young boy watches as a news lady begins a breaking story outside a 'dilapidated dormitory' but he turns it off when he recognizes some of the old furniture - a small tremble finding his fingertips. Down the hall he tentatively listens to the approach of a frantic woman and an ice begins to spread through his chest until she opens the door. When he sees his mother, the ice leaves crying in its wake. ******* All criticism/ feedback very appreciated. Will gladly read and give one of your works criticism/feedback if you wish in return. Thanks for reading.