As I approached the bottom of the steps I could almost sense something was wrong, I should have stayed upstairs; I wish I had never gone down there alone. Unfortunately, "should haves" and wishes, don't change the past- nothing does. So here I am reliving this again like so many tossing and turning sleepless nights. That first time I say now I could feel something but honestly that might be the foreboding I have now about approaching cellars and basements. I'll never go sub-floor again, I'm always afraid he's down there waiting for me, like he was that first day.
The smell of the cellar has always been a huge factor in my discomfort with them, that and the darkness; between those two things it's a wonder that I ever went down there at all. To date I can't even remember why I ventured that day, whether it was to take something down or bring something up it changed my life forever.
It had been incredibly hot that day, uncharacteristically for New England, and as I reached the bottom of the step the cool feeling of the concrete floor against my bare feet was calming, comfortable, almost relaxing. But the sweat from having been up in the kitchen for most of the day was still rolling from my forehead and over my nose. As I brought my hands up to wipe my face, I caught my first glimpse of him standing there. Although our cellar was not very large it seemed as though he was a good safe distance from me, as if I had nothing to fear. I allowed myself the luxury of trying to take in what I had seen, truthfully because I didn't believe he was really there.
At first glance he was standing the length of the cellar away from me, I could make out his dark hair, long, jet black, shiny; that and the fact that he was wearing very dark clothes. I looked away for a flash before I realized he was standing there, and by the time I looked back he had decreased his distance between us by half and I noticed the dark shirt that seemed once buttoned to the neck was half undone. It was at this point I could get a much better look at him, how very pale he was against the darkness of his hair and clothing; and the way he smiled. Such an adult smile on such an innocent looking face as if his mouth already knew something that his eyes didn't quite yet know.
Right then I began to find fear, and as I tried to turn, to leave, to get out, to get away- I realized that now he was upon me. My legs refused to work, like they were in conspiracy with him and suddenly there was a cold breeze upon my face. His eyes staring into mine, still smiling, still knowing so much more about his intentions than I did; he showed no sign of malicious intent, I never could have guessed. Now his shirt was completely undone and the phrase milky white seems the only fitting way to describe the hue of his skin, it was almost without color at all. I started to shiver, partially from the chill-mostly from fear.
As I stood there paralyzed he brought his finger up to my lips; perfectly pale, new looking hands tracing the outline of my lips. Carefully, gently, deliberately misleading he touched my lips, my nose and the side of my face. As he hand trailed around my cheek I glanced down, I negligently broke eye contact for a brief second; it was all he needed to draw me in. My body began to shake, my mind trembled as everything I knew shifted dramatically and wicked quick.
As I looked down I could see that the cool cotton summer clothes I had been wearing had transformed into a full emerald green dress, my short brown hair was now full ringlets of scarlet wrapping around my neck and leading my attention to the heavy golden chains embedded with large stones that I now wore. It felt as though I was watching a movie because I barely knew the person this was happening to. I looked up panic stricken searching for some sense of truth; I met with only that same cool, gentle yet deceptive smile
That once youthful looking hand couldn't have looked more like a demon's claw as it came to rest on my neck just a brief second before it grasped the front of the dress and used it as leash to yank me to a darker part of the cellar, a section that I had never seen. The tears pouring from my eyes and my mouth desperately trying to speak half of what my mind was forming at that moment came out only as a brief desperate word,
"please...", I uttered.
"Please?", he questioned. "Please what? Exactly what would you have me do, my lady?"
This was the first time I had heard him speak and it was at this first hearing that I noticed the accent. It sounded like an English accent but more over like an older England. A proper, puritan, almost religiously calm English voice echoed from the mouth of this creature. I say creature only because I now know things about him that make him the cruelest thing to ever have in habited the Earth, and the things that he said next could only begin to prepare me for just how evil he really was.
"Please stop, please let me go.", I could only barely hear myself saying.
"Stop? Let you go? Stop what exactly? I haven't even begun with you, and you're already crying, this is going to be so much fun."
His words was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment, I paid very close attention to what his hands were doing more so than what he said- I had already determined that most everything about him would be untrustworthy. He noticed that I wasn't listening and the air around us became hellish hot. The beads of sweat began form on my upper lip, and I tried desperately not to show fear.
"You're looking a little warm, dearie", he spoke the last of the words even as he was extending his tongue and licking the salty flavor from my mouth. This was again the only window he needed, as soon as I turned my head from him I could hear the bodice of dress being ripped from my body almost before I could feel it.
