Chapter 8: The Drum
Mallory, Calathea, and Brandy hurried up the long curve of the staircase, their footsteps striking the wood faster than the mansion seemed to like.
Faint music drifted through the house from somewhere far below. It sounded distant and warped, like it had been swallowed by the walls.
The mansion felt aware of them.
Their anxiety pulsed through the hallways like a heartbeat.
They reached the top of the second staircase and stopped.
Four doors waited in the dim corridor, tall and identical in the low light.
Mallory turned quickly, panic tightening her voice.
“Which one?!”
Calathea scanned the hallway. For a moment she hesitated, searching her memory of the path she had taken before.
Then it clicked.
“That one!” she said, pointing sharply toward the third door.
Mallory rushed forward and stopped with her hand on the handle. She took a breath, steadying herself before turning back to them.
“I’m doing this by myself,” she said. “You two stay back.”
Brandy shifted nervously, but Calathea nodded.
She understood.
Whatever existed beyond those doors responded differently to Mallory. She had already crossed into that strange world once before.
If anyone could bring Douglas and Mason back, it was her.
“It’s too dangerous for us,” Calathea said quietly.
Mallory gave a small nod.
Then she opened the door and stepped through.
The door shut behind her with a dull thud.
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
Brandy wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the closed door.
“What if something happens to her?” she whispered.
Calathea didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she lowered her gaze as a memory surfaced in her mind.
The drum.
She remembered the moment earlier—the deep vibration that had rippled through the mansion, bending whatever strange world Mallory had entered just enough for her to grab Brandy and pull her out.
The rhythm had done something.
It had weakened the barrier.
“If Mallory’s in there again…” Calathea said slowly, “…I can play it.”
Brandy looked at her with wide eyes.
“You think it’ll bring Douglas and Mason back too?”
Calathea nodded, determination replacing the fear in her expression.
“If it worked once, it can work again.”
She turned toward the staircase.
“Come on.”
The two of them hurried back down the spiral stairs.
Behind them, the door Mallory had entered remained perfectly still.
But somewhere deep within the mansion—
Something had noticed.
And it was listening.
Mallory stepped into the room and slowly closed the door behind her.
The air immediately felt wrong.
Reality warped at the edges of the space, like heat rising from pavement. The walls stretched and twisted slightly before snapping back into place, as if the room were struggling to hold its shape.
In the center of the room something hovered.
At first it looked like a cloud of fog.
But as Mallory stepped closer, the haze began to form an image.
A room.
A child’s room.
Soft yellow and pale blue walls. A small lamp glowing warmly in the corner. Along the right side stood a crib.
Inside it, a baby boy slept peacefully.
Mallory stepped closer.
A lullaby drifted softly through the air.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star…
The melody sounded like it was coming from a small mobile turning slowly above the crib.
The scene looked calm. Gentle.
Safe.
Mallory leaned closer, studying the baby’s face as the image sharpened.
Round cheeks.
Tiny hands curled beside his head.
And suddenly she knew.
“Douglas…” she whispered.
Excitement sparked through her chest.
She had found him.
If this was Douglas as a baby, then this memory belonged to him.
But suddenly—
Something moved.
Mallory froze.
From the darkness beside the crib, fingers began sliding slowly between the wooden rails.
They looked like tree branches.
Long.
Too long.
The fingers were thin and pale, but their edges were dark and cracked, scabs hanging loosely from the sides of the joints. The nails scraped softly against the wood as they stretched toward the sleeping baby.
Mallory’s heart jumped into her throat.
The entity was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
She stepped back quickly, the familiar pull of the memory beginning to tug at her like a current.
Her eyes darted around the room.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
She had to move.
Across the room she spotted a white door.
It looked solid. Real.
An exit.
Mallory hurried toward it and pushed it open.
On the other side was a hallway.
The house looked different here—warmer somehow. Family photographs lined the walls. The air smelled faintly of laundry detergent and cooked food.
A memory.
Mallory began moving quickly, opening each door she passed.
The first room held a sleeping girl beneath pink blankets.
The second room revealed another sister surrounded by stuffed animals and posters.
The third room—
Another sister.
But in every room Mallory noticed something else.
Something wrong.
Shapes clung to the corners of the ceilings where the light didn’t quite reach.
Dark figures pressed against the walls.
Entities.
They crouched like spiders in the shadows, their long limbs stretched across the ceiling as they silently watched.
Mallory shut the door quickly and stepped back into the hallway.
“This place…” she whispered.
It was crawling with them.
She continued down the hallway until she spotted a staircase.
Mallory hurried down.
At the bottom, she stepped into the living room.
And there—
She saw him.
Douglas.
He stood near the center of the room, staring silently ahead.
His parents sat frozen on a couch in front of him, trapped inside the stillness of the memory.
But something was wrapped around Douglas’s leg.
An entity.
Its thin body curled tightly around him like a snake, its hollow face tilted upward as it stared maliciously at the boy.
Mallory ran toward him.
“Douglas!”
She reached for him—
BOOM.
An invisible force blasted her backward.
Mallory slammed against the floor, the air leaving her lungs.
She pushed herself up quickly.
“No… no…”
She ran forward again.
“Douglas, it’s okay! I’m here!”
She reached—
BOOM.
The shield threw her back again.
Harder.
Mallory slid across the floor, frustration and fear rising in her chest.
She wasn’t hurt.
Just blocked.
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I can’t reach you…” she whispered.
Douglas didn’t move.
The entity wrapped around his leg continued staring.
Then—
From somewhere far away—
Mallory heard it.
THUM.
She froze.
Her eyes widened.
Calathea.
The sound vibrated through the memory like a ripple moving through water.
The invisible barrier flickered.
Mallory slowly stood.
She waited.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Then—
THUM.
Mallory lunged forward.
Her arm shot through the weakening barrier—
And she grabbed Douglas.
Douglas gasped.
His eyes blinked rapidly as if waking from a deep sleep. For a moment he looked confused, disoriented, his gaze darting around the living room that no longer seemed completely real.
“Mallory?” he said faintly.
Mallory tightened her grip on his arm.
“Douglas, listen to me,” she said urgently. “You have to run. Right now.”
The entity wrapped around his leg hissed silently, its long body tightening as if realizing its hold was slipping. The air in the room began to vibrate as the memory warped around them.
Douglas looked down at the thing wrapped around him in horror.
“What—what is that—”
“Don’t look at it!” Mallory snapped. “Just run!”
Another distant vibration echoed through the world.
THUM.
The walls rippled.
The entity shrieked, its grip loosening as if the sound itself burned it.
Mallory pulled Douglas forward.
“Now!”
Douglas stumbled once before finding his footing, and then the two of them ran.
They raced through the living room and toward the staircase. The house groaned around them, the memory beginning to collapse. Shadows peeled themselves off the walls as the lurking entities stirred, their limbs stretching and twisting through the air.
Douglas glanced behind them.
“What is happening?!”
“Later!” Mallory shouted.
They sprinted up the stairs two at a time.
The hallway above them twisted slightly, the doors bending like reflections in warped glass. Dark figures crawled along the ceiling, reaching for them with long fingers.
Mallory grabbed Douglas’s wrist and dragged him forward.
“This way!”
They ran through the hallway and burst into the nursery.
The yellow and blue room flickered violently now. The crib rocked slightly as if something inside it was struggling to escape.
The same pale fingers were still sliding between the wooden rails.
The entity in the crib turned slowly toward them.
Mallory didn’t stop.
She ran straight toward the center of the room where the air shimmered—the thin veil between the memory and their world.
“Keep going!” she shouted.
Douglas followed her.
The world around them stretched like melting glass as they ran through the distortion.
Then—
Everything snapped.
Mallory and Douglas stumbled forward onto the solid wooden floor of the mansion.
The nursery door slammed shut behind them.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Douglas bent forward, catching his breath as the reality of where he was finally settled in.
The mansion hallway was quiet again.
Real.
Douglas looked up at Mallory, confusion written across his face.
“What… what just happened?” he asked.
Mallory steadied herself, still gripping his arm to make sure he was truly there.
“You were trapped in a memory,” she said. “Something in this house put you there.”
Douglas rubbed his face, trying to process what she had said.
Then his expression suddenly changed.
“Mason.”
Mallory looked at him.
Douglas’s eyes filled with panic as he looked around the hallway.
“Where’s Mason?”
His voice trembled.
“He was with me.”
Mallory’s stomach dropped.
Because Mason hadn’t been anywhere in that memory.
And that meant—
He was still somewhere inside the house.
Or worse.
Somewhere deeper.
Mallory stood in the hallway, the warped door looming in front of her like a wound in the house.
Douglas was still catching his breath beside her, panic written across his face.
“Where was he last?” Mallory asked.
Douglas rubbed the back of his neck. “I told you—we both went in together. That memory thing inside the room.”
“And?” Mallory pressed.
“We got separated,” he said. “Everything started shifting. I couldn’t see him anymore and then I just… ended up back here.”
Mallory’s eyes hardened.
“You left him.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Douglas said quickly. “It just happened.”
Mallory looked back at the door. The edges of the frame shimmered slightly, like heat bending the air.
Another distorted memory was forming in the center of the room beyond it.
She made her decision.
“Go find Calathea and Brandy.”
Douglas frowned. “Why?”
Mallory turned to him fully.
“Tell Calathea to start the drum again. Don’t let her stop.”
Douglas hesitated. “What are you going to do?”
Mallory’s gaze returned to the door.
“I’m going to find Mason.”
Before Douglas could argue, she opened the door and stepped inside.
The air warped immediately.
The walls stretched and bent around the room as the memory in the center grew clearer. It pulsed like a window into something larger.
Mallory walked straight toward it.
Then stepped through.
Grass brushed against her shoes.
Warm air carried the smell of summer and freshly cut lawn.
Mallory looked up.
Rows of white folding chairs stretched across a wide football field. Families filled the bleachers and lined the sides of the field. Students in bright red graduation gowns sat shoulder to shoulder in long rows facing a stage.
Above the stage, a large banner swung in the wind.
MANCHESTER MEMORIAL HIGH SCHOOL
Mallory slowly turned.
Hundreds of people.
Maybe more.
This memory was massive compared to the others.
Parents raised cameras. Teachers stood near the podium. Names echoed through a microphone as applause rolled through the crowd.
Mallory exhaled slowly.
“How am I supposed to find him in this…”
But she started walking anyway.
Meanwhile—
Douglas hurried down the hallway.
The mansion felt different now. Quieter. Like the house itself was holding its breath.
He reached the room where Brandy and Calathea stood in front of the wall of paintings.
“Mallory sent me,” he said quickly. “She said you need to start the drum again.”
Calathea looked up immediately.
“Did she go back in?”
Douglas nodded.
“She thinks Mason is still trapped in there somewhere.”
Calathea didn’t hesitate.
She grabbed the drumsticks.
The first strike echoed through the mansion.
Thum.
The sound vibrated through the walls.
Brandy looked back at Mason’s painting as the drumbeat continued.
Thum.
Thum.
Mason’s painted face stared outward from the canvas.
Eyes wide.
Frozen in terror.
He wasn’t moving anymore.
Brandy swallowed.
“Is he… gone?”
Douglas stepped closer to the painting but didn’t answer.
Calathea kept playing.
The steady rhythm filled the hallway.
Thum.
Thum.
Thum.
Back inside the memory—
Mallory moved through the rows of chairs.
Students laughed, whispered, adjusted their red caps. Parents waved from the sidelines. Teachers called names from the stage.
None of them noticed her.
She walked between aisles of red gowns, scanning every face.
Looking for Mason.
The sound of the ceremony continued around her, but underneath it— Faint. Steady.
A low vibration pulsed through the memory. Thum. Mallory paused for a moment. Then kept moving down the aisle.
Searching. Mallory moved through the rows of chairs.
Students laughed, whispered, adjusted their red caps. Parents waved from the sidelines. Teachers called names from the stage, each announcement followed by applause rolling across the football field.
None of them noticed her.
She walked down one aisle.
Then another.
Scanning every face.
Looking for Mason.
Time stretched strangely inside the memory. The sun drifted slowly toward the horizon, shadows growing longer across the grass.
Mallory kept searching.
Row after row.
Face after face.
But Mason was nowhere.
A dull vibration rippled faintly through the air.
Thum.
Mallory paused.
The sound didn’t belong to the ceremony. It moved through the memory differently—deeper, like it came from beneath the world itself.
Thum.
She turned slowly.
The drum.
Calathea.
Mallory closed her eyes for a moment, listening carefully as the steady rhythm pulsed through the field.
Thum.
Thum.
The sound wasn’t just noise.
It was direction.
A guide.
Mallory opened her eyes and scanned the endless crowd one last time.
If Mason was here, she would have found him by now.
The drumbeat pulsed again. Thum. Mallory turned toward the direction the sound seemed strongest.
The edges of the memory flickered faintly in the distance, where the world blurred and bent like heat rising from pavement. She started walking. Leaving the rows of chairs behind her.
The crowd continued cheering as another name echoed across the microphone, but the sound began to fade the farther she moved.
The grass beneath her feet thinned. The sky dimmed. Reality began to warp again. Thum. The drum grew louder. Thum.
The memory cracked at its edges like old paint peeling away from a wall. Mallory pushed forward. Then suddenly—The football field vanished.
Mallory stumbled forward as the mansion snapped back into place around her. The warped room returned.
The distorted memory collapsed behind her, dissolving into nothing. The drumbeat echoed clearly now through the hallway. Thum. Thum.
Mallory stepped out of the room and followed the sound. Down the hallway. Around the corner. Until she saw them.
Calathea stood with the drumsticks raised, striking the drum in steady rhythm. Douglas and Brandy stood nearby in front of the wall of paintings.
Mallory slowed as she approached.
Something about their faces made her stomach tighten.
Brandy looked pale.
Douglas stood stiff and silent. Mallory followed their gaze. Mason’s painting hung on the wall. Completely still.
His painted eyes were stretched wide with terror.
And he wasn’t moving anymore.
