Nightmare Game
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 32
If Rosie’s room resembled a typical bedroom, then the mistress’s quarters looked more like a slaughterhouse.
The floor was covered in splotches of dried blood, with bits of human tissue scattered here and there. Several iron hooks dangled from the ceiling, holding up rotting corpses like butchered livestock, some showing signs of being air-dried.
On a nearby table sat an array of blood-soaked tools, including saws, hammers, scalpels, and awls, all seemingly meant for torture or dismembering bodies.
A thick chain hung on the adjacent wall, stained almost entirely red with blood.
Ethan knew right away that this had to be the weapon wielded by the monster in the mistress’s room before. He could still recall the sound it made dragging across the floor.
Fighting back nausea, he shut the door behind him. He’d wanted to lock it too, but it seemed designed to lock only from the outside.
He started searching the room. Though cluttered, hiding spots were limited, and he quickly found an antique music box in a drawer beneath a cabinet.
Crafted from pure wood, it featured intricate carvings of flowing rivers and majestic mountains, with smooth lines that carried a profound sense of harmony.
Opening it revealed a delicate miniature stage, where a ballerina stood on tiptoe, frozen in place without a face, giving off an eerie vibe.
Normally, these boxes played music the moment you lifted the lid, with the dancer spinning along to the tune.
Was it broken?
Ethan’s mind went to the small gear he’d found in Rosie’s room, and things clicked.
He dismantled the box effortlessly to inspect the mechanism inside, spotting a missing part that matched the gear perfectly.
Once he slotted it in, the fit was seamless.
The instant it clicked into place, music filled the air, the same melody from the record player in Rosie’s room.
As the tune played, the ballerina twirled endlessly, her skirt fluttering gently with the rhythm, as if performing live on stage.
Click.
The music stopped, the dancer halted, and a small drawer popped open at the base.
Inside lay a handbook.
Ethan sensed it held the clues he sought, but he grabbed it quickly and stowed it away. This room felt far too dangerous to linger.
For all he knew, those bodies on the hooks belonged to previous guests who’d wandered in.
He approached the door, ready to slip out, when footsteps echoed from outside, heading straight toward him.
Someone was coming?
His expression darkened. The right-side guest rooms housed only him, so others rarely ventured here unless targeting the mistress’s quarters specifically.
Could it be the mistress returning?
His heart pounded as the realization hit. He scanned desperately for a hiding spot.
The room offered just two options: under the bed-like platform, which was spacious and shadowy enough to conceal someone easily, or inside a cabinet, which could fit a person but left little room to maneuver.
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