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2nd Annual Halloween Contest 1999 31 of October, 18?? Hallows Eve

I fear for my life. The man I wed has changed into someone I no longer recognize. He has become cold and distant where he was once kind and loving.

Nay, I cannot say when exactly he began to change, but it seems that things began to happen when we moved into this terribly odd house. T'was a wedding gift from the old lawyer who was my husband's guardian when he was a babe. It had belonged to his parents, and when they went missing, it had been closed up and saved for my husband, in the event that he marry.

I do na' like this house with its tall turrets and cold stone walls. Despite the warmth from the fire, I feel the cold chill of evil surrounding me.

At first, everything was utterly blissful. I had never been so happy. Nigel was attentive and kind, the mark of the perfect husband. But slowly, I sensed a change come upon him. He no longer spoke to me with kind words, aye, when he spoke at all. Everything I did served to displease him and he would fly into rages then cold silence. He took to brooding and staring at me silently when we sat before the fire in the eves.

I would feel him watching me as I went about my daily tasks. I can no longer look him in the eyes, because what I see frightens me so. Tis certain there is madness present, deep in those cold blue eyes.

He no longer presses for his marital right, and for this I am grateful. I have taken to bolting the door of my room at night, for I am terrified of what he might do.

Despite my precautions, I have woken in the dead of night and sensed his presence in the doorway. He stands there, staring at me through the darkness. It feels as though he can see to my very bones. I lay perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe, waiting for... what? What have I done to bring this terror upon me? I have no family left, no one to which I can turn.

You may wonder why I am writing this now. As I have mentioned, I am in fear for my life. I can feel the evil drawing closer to me. I pray that I live to see daybreak, for I will surely leave in the morrow.

This eve, as I slept fitfully in my bed, I was awakened by a noise like no other. It was a soft, slippery sound near my bedroom door. Through the dim light of the fire's embers I saw a square of white on the polished floor. I lit a lamp and retrieved the note. Opening it, my hand trembled so. The message was short and printed in large letters, black like death itself. "The time has come." Four simple words that struck terror in my heart and made my blood run cold. I knew that prayer would not save me, should he turn on me by morn.

I know not what I have done, but I am writing this so that if I should not last the night, he will not be held without blame.

Elspeth Childs.

Cassie Edwards carefully re-folded the letter and placed it gently on the bedside table. She rubbed her arms in a futile attempt to erase the chill that the poor woman's words had given her.

She had found the letter behind the armoire, while cleaning out this room two weeks ago. It had been wedged in the corner between the wall and floor. The paper was yellowed and fragile, crumbling at the edges and folds.

The writing was faded in places, its spidery curls barely legible today. She thought it must be a hundred years old at least. She could see the faint outline of a 1 and an 8 in the top right corner. Perhaps it was the fact that it had been written on this very day all those years ago that chilled her so.

She had stopped at the library on impulse last week, and asked about the woman who wrote the letter, Elspeth Childs. The librarian had been kind enough to check the old bulletins and papers for any mention of her. She had found out that Elspeth had disappeared on Halloween night in the 1800s. Her husband had moved away, apparently unable to live in the house without her. He had started a rose memorial to her in the garden, a grand gesture of love everyone at the time had agreed. A month later, he closed up the house and left.

Cassie had promised to donate the letter to the library tomorrow. Perhaps it held some historical value for the area.

In another month, the house would be sold and Cassie would return to her life in San Francisco. This house had been in her family for years, but had never been lived in. Her Great-Great-Grandfather had won it in a card game, but his wife refused to move to such a small town in Maine. So it had remained closed, exactly as it was, all this time.

Cassie was certain after reading the letter that Elspeth had been murdered by her husband. There was such terror in the faded words, such unadorned fear. She burrowed deeper under the covers, glad she'd remembered to bring the down comforter. Despite the fire burning in the hearth across the room, she felt cold fingers of air sliding up her back.

She would be glad when she finally returned home. Being alone in this old, drafty house was slowly preying on her nerves. The creaks and cracks at night often startled her awake. The long shadows in the room made her uneasy then, and she was glad when dawn broke. She knew it was due to the age of the house, but the noises were very unsettling. She couldn't imagine what poor Elspeth had felt, fearing her own husband. Had she lain awake all night in fear? How had she coped, living in such a creepy house, so far away from the nearest neighbor?

Cassie couldn't wait to hand over the keys to the real estate agent at the end of the month. She wanted to be back home, in her nice modern condo and her nice warm bed...

She woke with a start, her heart loud in the stillness of the room. She'd heard a noise, something unusual, even for this house. It was dark; the fire had died down sometime in the night and what light was left cast eerie shadows on the walls. She peered nervously towards the door. There it was again! It sounded like footsteps coming to a stop just outside. She sat up in bed and tried to think where her cell phone was. She gasped as she remembered leaving it in the car. Frantically, she searched for somewhere to hide, but there was no where to go. She was on the third floor, and the only way out was through the bedroom door.

She remained frozen in the bed, staring anxiously at the doorway through the dim light. She was trapped. She caught her breath; there was another sound. A soft slippery sound barely audible from across the room.

Through the darkness, she saw the whiteness of a small square of paper appearing under the door, being pushed into the room.

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