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It took two months to piece together the next turn of events that sent the pregnant Wilma to the hospital. After extensive questioning of both Wilma and Carlos, we pieced the bits of information together like an elaborate puzzle. The following is what happened next.240Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ86Aqoy16kH
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Carlos was shocked to see Buck's Datsun parked in front of the building as he arrived. "What's he doing here so early?" he asked himself as he climbed out of the Oldsmobile.
Carlos walked to the front of the building and reached for the door handle to enter, but thought twice when the dream about the vampires came flashing back in his brain.
"It was just a bad dream!" he said as he shook his head, almost laughing loudly. He jerked open the door and strode up the hall dismissing the nightmare as just that---a nightmare. Nothing had happened for such a long time; it had to be over! At least, that was what he kept telling himself.
He pushed through the double doors at the end of the hallway and was taken aback when he saw Wilma sitting at the bar on a stool beside Buck.
Wilma had followed Carlos's advice and had completely distanced herself from the premises since being attacked inside the kitchen.
"How's it going?" Buck asked with a smile. "Look who I brought with me."
"Hello, Wilma," Carlos chirped. "Long time, no see!"
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Listen, Carlos," Buck exclaimed. "We've been waiting for you to get here. I didn't want to leave Wilma in here by herself. I gotta go to town on some business, and she decided she wanted to work upstairs in the office today. I want you to keep an eye on her until I get back." Buck tucked his white sports shirt neatly inside his jeans.
"I won't be gone long," he reassured.
Buck gave them both a warm smile and headed for the door to take care of some matters concerning the opening of the resort. Once he disappeared through the doors and left the building, Wilma turned to Carlos with an inquisitive look.
"Has anything happened while I've been away?"
"No. Nothing." Carlos shook his head. "It's weird, huh?"
"Oh, have you looked around yet?" Wilma asked excitedly.
"No, why?"
"Just go look," she grinned. Wilma climbed down from the black padded stool and followed Carlos around the north end of the bar into the ballroom.
"That looks great!"
The transformation of the gym into a luxurious ballroom was nothing short of miraculous. Where once stood decrepit corridors and dusty classrooms, there now lay a vibrant space fit for the grandest of occasions. The old gymnasium had been completely renovated, its cavernous interior adorned with elegant tables covered in pristine linens and adorned with sparkling centerpieces. The stage, once a makeshift platform for high school assemblies, had served as the focal point of the room, adorned with velvet curtains and state-of-the-art lighting equipment.
A spacious dance floor stretched out before the stage, its polished surface gleaming under the cheerful bright lighting that had bathed the room in a warm glow. Plush carpeting lined the floor, muffling the sound of Carlos and Wilma's footsteps and adding a touch of luxury to the space. The walls, once adorned with peeling paint and that menacing graffiti, had been freshly painted in soft, inviting colors that had lent an air of sophistication to the room.
When guests entered the transformed ballroom, they would be greeted by the sounds of Buck's music and the sight of smiling faces. Carlos marveled at the stunning transformation of the dilapidated high school. It had been clear that a tremendous amount of time, effort, and resources had been poured into the renovation, and the result had been nothing short of spectacular. Lone Star High School may have once been a place of forgotten memories and faded dreams, but on opening night, it would shine brightly as a symbol of new beginnings and endless possibilities.
"There's not much left to do before we open," she said. "It's almost time."
"Don't I know it?" he grinned. "Oh, I have to go to one of the storage rooms out by The Pit and get some lights. Buck told me he wanted new ones in every socket. He got a case of 200-watt bulbs last week. That'll sure brighten this place up even more."
"I'm sure it will," she agreed.
"Will you be okay in here until I get back? I won't be gone long."
"Go ahead. I'm fine. I think I'll go upstairs and get started. I'll holler if I need you."
"You sure?" he asked again.
"I'm sure, Carlos." She laughed as she turned and headed toward the Fiesta Court going to the upstairs office.
Despite the radical transformation of Lone Star High School into a luxurious resort, one area remained untouched by the renovations: The Pit. For some unknown reason, this decrepit and eerie space had defied all attempts at improvement, retaining its haunting atmosphere and unsettling aura. As Carlos prepared to venture into The Pit, he couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that washed over him, a lingering sense of unease that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the darkened space.240Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtD1G02jFuA
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Wilma moved up the yellow stairway and walked into the office. The former principal's office underwent a remarkable transformation into Buck's opulent main office. The once austere space now boasted a luxurious desk, gleaming with polished wood and adorned with intricate carvings. A mini-bar, stocked with top-shelf spirits, gleamed enticingly in one corner, while an expensive leather office chair sat regally behind the desk. However, amidst the opulence, a stack of boxes loomed conspicuously, containing invoices and papers from Lone Star High School. These boxes blocked a small closet door to Buck's left, a minor inconvenience borne from his recent exploration of the school's past. Buck was deeply intrigued by the history of the old high school and had made it his mission to uncover every detail, planning to scrutinize each invoice and document at his earliest convenience.
Wilma moved across the red, wall-to-wall carpet and pulled the chair away from the desk. Picking up a dusting rag that was lying on top of it, she started wiping down the surface when suddenly she became aware of a presence in the room. She sensed something slowly and searched the area, but found nobody there. Despite it being 91 degrees outside, the room became extremely cold. The memory of her last encounter inside the building scared her, but, still, she convinced herself there wasn't anything to worry about.
Wilma turned back to the desk and resumed wiping it down when she felt the dark presence again---only this time, closer! Her nostrils filled with the scent of roses, but the sweet aroma turned to that sickening stench of poop as some invisible being pressed against her back, wrapping its arms around her waist.
"Let go of me!" she screamed. "Oh, God!....Not again!"
Carlos's hands gripped the case of light bulbs tightly as he stepped out of the storage room, ready to carry them into the building. Suddenly, with a resounding thud, the door slammed shut behind him. He wheeled around on the balls of his feet, dropping the cardboard box to the pavement with a heavy thud. His heart raced as he stared at the closed door, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. The silence that followed seemed to stretch on indefinitely as he waited, half expecting someone or something to come crashing through the door at any second. Despite the brightness of the day, a chill crept up his spine as he stood alone in the deserted quadrangle, the sense of foreboding growing with each passing moment.
In the daylight, as he stood there, waiting, he caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye. He looked left, then right, taking in the eerie vista of The Pit. The graffiti, once vibrant but now faded and peeling, covered the walls like ancient runes. Shadows still danced across the cracked pavement, casting sinister shapes on the wilted and rotten gardens that lined the edges. Doors, long sealed shut, bore ominous warnings scrawled in red paint. And in the bright sunlight, blotches of what appeared to be human blood covered some areas of the pavement, stark against the concrete.
"Who's there?" he called out, not wanting to know.
Nothing.
"Is somebody here?" he asked again, his voice now nothing but a thin whisper.
Nothing.
Frantically scanning the surroundings, he recalled the stories he'd heard about the tunnels supposedly running under the school, offering covert access to the building's interior. His eyes fell upon a suspiciously inconspicuous spot in The Pit, obscured by shadows and graffiti. There, hidden amidst the decrepit surroundings, was an illicit, crude hatchway. Its wooden frame bore the scars of time, its hinges rusted with neglect. With a mixture of trepidation and determination, he approached and cautiously opened the hatch, revealing a rickety wooden ladder descending into darkness. Gathering his resolve, he began to scale down the ladder, each step echoing with a sense of foreboding.
As he descended deeper into the tunnel, the flicker of his cigarette lighter revealed a labyrinth of strange and unsettling sights. The walls were adorned with bizarre symbols, intricate graffiti, and the names of vintage '60s-'70s hard rock bands, etched into the stone with eerie precision. Each step he took seemed to uncover more mysteries hidden within the dimly lit passageway. Suddenly, the air was pierced by the haunting strains of off-tune rock music, echoing off the walls with a surreal intensity. It was like the sound of an acoustic guitar gone mad, filling the tunnel with an otherworldly ambiance that sent shivers down his spine.
"My God!" he stammered as his eyes searched left and right, looking for the entity that he felt certain would show itself. "Wilma's upstairs alone! I've gotta get to her before it's too late!"
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Wilma twisted and turned, fighting to free herself from the entity that held her as the room became icy cold.
"Somebody, help me!" She squeezed out the words as she fought back with all her strength. The office door, leaving out to the hallway, began slamming back and forth against its frame when suddenly the entity let loose of its grip on the expectant woman. Without hesitation, Wilma ran out of the room and down the stairs and started down when something pushed her. She screamed and fell forward, toppling down each step, but avoiding serious injury by grabbing the handrail as she tumbled to the bottom. Horrified, she dropped to both knees and stared up at the top landing just as a demonic whisper descended the stairs.
"Leave this place, Christian, lest you face the wrath of Hell!" the bodiless voice commanded.240Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTREHfvqByv
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As Carlos sprinted through the tunnel, his breath came in ragged gasps, echoing against the walls. The foul stench of excrement hung heavy in the air, assaulting his senses with each desperate inhale. He felt sweat bead on his forehead, trickling down his temples as he pushed himself onward. With each step, he scanned the walls, searching for any sign of an entrance into the resort. Panic gnawed at his gut, driving him forward with frantic urgency, his heart pounding in his chest.
"I know there's a hatchway somewhere," Carlos muttered between gasps, his voice strained with urgency. "No other way those damned delinquents could've smuggled drugs onto campus without anyone seeing."
The tunnel turned instantly hot, and a loud zooming noise came from somewhere in the distance as Carlos stared into the air, his eyes now like invisible daggers.
"Oh, shit!" he screamed out when his lighter's flame revealed a large swarm of hornets circling in the air less than fifty feet away.
The bugs dipped, turned, swirled, and rose up in the air like a miniature tornado as Carlos watched in awe. Then came the attack!
The hornets massed together as one and darted through the tunnel in a lunatic flight like a black and green missile soaring through the sky.
Carlos stumbled upon a strange wooden doorway amidst the tunnel's eerie ambiance. It appeared weathered and ancient, its surface adorned with peculiar carvings and symbols. Without hesitation, he darted inside, seeking refuge from the impending swarm of hornets. As he crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut, cutting off the relentless advance of the insects just in time. Outside, the wooden door vibrated with the buzzing of the hornets, their collective effort to breach the barrier evident in the frantic movements that covered its surface.
"Dammit!" he groaned as he leaned his back hard against the door and took a long, deep breath of air, feeling somehow safe from his attackers.
As Carlos extinguished his lighter, he realized the room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The chamber was small, barely more than a closet, with rough dimensions of approximately six feet by six feet. Within this confined space, makeshift ceramic chalices lined a makeshift altar, their crude craftsmanship hinting at an amateur creation, perhaps from an art class. Yet, it was the peculiar mirror positioned against the far wall that drew his gaze. Its purpose remained a mystery, leaving Carlos to ponder its significance within this strange shrine.
Carlos's shock turned to horror as he scanned the wall, his eyes fixating on the grim tally of names and dates. "'Offered?' What the hell are they talking about?" he demanded, his voice trembling with disbelief and revulsion at the sinister implications of the inscription.
As Carlos's gaze fell upon the mirror, his blood ran cold at the sight that greeted him. Reflected within its depths was a horrifying visage, one that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The face, reminiscent of a twisted bunny rabbit, bore ghastly horns in place of ears, its gaping maw filled with razor-sharp, needle-like teeth that gleamed with malevolent intent. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly evil, sending shivers down Carlos's spine as he struggled to comprehend the nightmarish entity staring back at him from within the mirror's depths.
He stood frozen in terror as he gawked at the hellish head in the mirror. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched in horror as a horrifying arm emerged from the depths of the mirror. The arm was twisted and gnarled, its skin a sickly shade of gray, as it reached out towards him with an elongated, bony finger. With a sense of dread, he realized that the finger was pointing directly at his heart as if aiming to strike him down with a single, deadly touch. Fear seized him as he recoiled from the ghastly apparition, unable to tear his eyes away from the nightmarish sight unfolding before him.
"Depart from this place, Christian, lest ye be consumed by my fire!" the creature commanded.
"Who are you?" Carlos choked the words out. "What are you doing here?"
"I am known by many names: The Angel of the Morning, The Light-Bearer!" the creature intoned, its growl low, horrible, and raspy. "You trespass in a vestibule of my kingdom. I bestowed upon the teenagers of this school their music, their drugs, their carnal pleasures, and in return, they worshipped me with unholy acts. Heed my command, Christian, and depart, lest you perish in agony, suffering a thousand deaths!"
Before Carlos could respond, the demonic thing inside the mirror broke out into horrific laughter, and as it did, its face inside the looking glass began to glow red then white, becoming a mass of melting, oozing tissue, falling off in chunks from the mirror and striking the floor of the strange room with a series of wet smacks. The mirror immediately glowed to a bright, blinding surge of unholy energy then suddenly went dim, then dark, leaving Carlos swallowed up in a drowning sea of fear and confusion.
With a surge of determination, Carlos pivoted on his heel, his left foot swinging outward to connect with the wooden door. The force of his work shoe crashing into the door sent it splintering into fragments, the sound echoing through the eerie silence of the tunnel. As he stepped back into the tunnel, he strained his ears for any sign of the buzzing hornets but heard nothing, only the eerie silence that seemed to press in around him.
With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Carlos sprinted down the tunnel at a runner's pace, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched desperately for any sign of escape. Just as he began to lose hope, his eyes caught sight of another ladder, its wooden rungs barely visible in the dim light. Gasping for breath, he muttered to himself, "It has to be..." as he scaled the rickety ladder, each step creaking ominously under his weight. Reaching the top, he pushed open the crude hatchway and was astonished to find himself on the stage of the resort's ballroom. Hidden from view by a false panel, the hatchway provided a secretive entrance into the heart of the building.
As Carlos leaped off the stage onto the ballroom floor, he was greeted by another bizarre event. The new jukebox, delivered just yesterday, suddenly sprang to life on its own, blaring a Dolly Parton song. What made it even stranger was that the jukebox played the song at the wrong speed, causing Parton's voice to drop to a drunken baritone. Ignoring the unsettling sight, Carlos hurried towards the upstairs office, his heart racing with each step as he moved as fast as his legs would carry him.
As he rounded the end of the open bar, he saw Wilma sitting on a stool gripping her stomach with both hands. He slid to a halt and paused for a brief moment, sucking in a fast breath of air, then slowly walked to the middle of the bar where the horror-stricken woman sat all alone.
"Are you all right?" he asked as he studied her flushed face.
"For now," her voice was flat and quiet. "It's not over, Carlos."
"I know," he apologized. "I shouldn't have left you alone."
Wilma spun around on the stool and faced Carlos, who was standing three feet away.
"That thing grabbed me in the office just like it did in the kitchen!" she said through trembling lips. "It pushed me down the stairs! If I hadn't..." She paused and took a deep breath then stared at Carlos with a blank look. "If I hadn't grabbed the handrail my baby and I could've been killed."
"That's it!" Carlos screamed furiously. He couldn't stand it anymore. If he held it in for one more second, he would have blown out his teeth. He spun around in the room and screamed out curses and threats at the evil that lurked inside the building until he became exhausted, but finally controlling his rage he turned to Wilma.
"Let's get out of here until Buck gets back." He sounded defeated.
He walked over and extended his right arm to the woman helping her off the stool just as the jukebox came to life, playing the same Dolly Parton song at the wrong speed.
"I don't recall putting that song on," Wilma remarked, her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced at the jukebox. "What's wrong with it, Carlos? It sounds like it's playing in slow motion."
"I have no idea," Carlos replied, shaking his head. "But the jukebox in the ballroom did the same thing just now. And trust me, there's nothing wrong with it. Buck had some electronics specialists go over it top to bottom, and they said it was perfect."
"What's going on here?" Wilma demanded, her voice tinged with concern. "If nothing's wrong, why is it sounding like that?"
"I've got a feeling I know why," Carlos replied, his tone grave. "You stay in the office; I'll go and investigate."
"No way!" she argued as she continued holding her stomach. "I'm going with you."
Carlos slowly walked around the side of the bar with Wilma beside him, and, when they stepped into the main ballroom downstairs, the music stopped and all became still, leaving a heart-wrenching eerieness hanging in the air.
"Let's go!" Wilma insisted. "I've had enough!"
"Yeah! Okay."
They walked out of the ballroom and disappeared down the mirrored hallway stepping out into the welcomed sunlight.
He locked the front door and followed her over to the concrete wall where they both sat down awaiting Buck's return.
"Carlos, I've gotta convince Buck this place is haunted. I've tried to talk to him about this several times, but he just won't listen to me."
"What does he say?" Carlos asked while cupping his hands and lighting a cigarette.
"He says: 'That's all we'd need! If people hear we've got a haunted resort, we won't have any business."
"He's right!" Carlos laughed under his breath. "But, still. If he doesn't do something about this to help us, and somebody gets hurt in there, he'll be legally responsible! What if this story does ever leak out and somebody says they were injured in here by some demon? Buck better hope no scumbag lawyer ever gets me on the witness stand 'cause I won't lie for him or nobody!"
"I'm thinking bigger than that," Wilma said with trepidation. "What if those ghosts possess someone? What if some poor man or woman gets taken over by a spirit when they leave here? The ghosts, or whatever they are, could cause them to have a wreck, and the cops would just think that they'd had too much to drink. You've got a point about us being held responsible. But right now I've got to worry about me. My stomach's starting to feel funny."
"Is it hurting that bad?"
"It's just cramps," she said while gritting her teeth. "I could just imagine this..."
"What?" Carlos interrupted her.
"Oh, you know," she forced a grin, "I'll just go to the doctor and tell him I want to be checked out because a ghost pushed me down the stairs. They'd have me in a nut house somewhere."
"Wilma!" Carlos said seriously, changing the tone of the conversation. "That evil in there was waiting for you to come back. It hasn't bothered me since the mold outbreak, and it's never harmed Buck. You have to stay away from here until I get this place blessed by a priest or something."
"You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to take a chance on losing my baby. I'm going to make Buck listen to me tonight. One way or another."
As her words drifted into the heat of the August air, Buck pulled up in front of the building, and, just like before, she climbed into the car and demanded to be taken home, telling him of her assault by the unseen attacker.240Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1AfPezpcrn
