You Go Under It

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“That building’s been sitting there for years. It’s abandoned, but people would use it for photo shoots and such. A few years back, someone decided to set it on fire. Got sick of looking at it.”

You Go Under It

“It’s an eye sore,” he replied. He was new to the area, and had asked an older woman about the building, out of curiosity. “You’d think the city would have torn it down by now.” It was sitting smack dab in the downtown area.

“You’d think,” she shrugged, “Easier said than done. Take care now!” she gave him a pat on the shoulder before turning to go.

“Thanks for your help!” he smiled at her. It was a small city, but very friendly. He followed the fence down a smaller side street, searching for a sign. The sole reason for his visit was to fulfill a promise he had made to a friend. There was something they had left in the building, and now he was here to retrieve it.

A bright object caught his attention. Bending over to look at it, he found that it was a tube. Tucked inside was a note. You go under it, it read. Assuming that meant the fence, he began walking again. A few yards away, the fence was lifted up enough for him to get through.

There were no cars in sight, and no one had seen him so far. Or no one cared. Either way, he had made it into the building without any problems. He brought out his flashlight, clicking it on. Another glint caught his attention, and true enough he had found another tube. Where do you get a tube for messages? he questioned as he scanned the note.

Basement.

And why make a friend promise to pick up your old belongings, from an abandoned building no less? He found it strange that he had only just begun to find the situation strange.

The basement was musty, but otherwise dry. The walls and floor were both concrete. Everything else was burned or buried. What he wanted, however, was a metal box.

His foot kicked something over; he could hear it tinkling across the floor. “Another tube!” he exclaimed, oozing sarcasm. This time the note said, Under the stairs. He sighed, thankful for the affair to be over.

It was late when he finally checked into a hotel. He was laying on the pristine bed, staring at the box in his lap.

What’s inside?

He gingerly opened the latches, then lifted the lid–his mouth made a pronounced ‘O’ shape at the contents. A strange ebony skull grinned up at him. It was humanoid. Somehow. Long, thin, with a jaw similar to a wolf’s. With a grimace, he lifted it out of its container, turning it over in his hands, trying to get a sense for how it worked.

A strong, unpleasant odour of rotting meat came from it. It clung to his hands, coated his nose and mouth, caused his eyes to water. He locked it back inside the box, disgusted.

He had promised to retrieve the box from the building, but there was no longer any intention of giving it back.

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