Chapter 3 - The Cold Frame
The soft string music from the ballroom faded behind her, replaced by a eerie quiet.
Golden light gave way to dim wall sconces, casting long, twisting shadows across the corridor.
Near the end of the hallway hung an enormous oil painting depicting the original Hawthorne estate surrounded by snow-covered pine trees.
As Maya approached the frame, she heard it again.
A faint, dragging scrape behind the heavy canvas.
She placed both hands on the gilded frame.
"Noah?" she whispered into the dark.
Silence.
Then... a weak, trembling voice responded from behind the wall.
"Miss Maya?"
It was so soft she almost believed her mind was playing tricks on her.
Her pulse quickened, hammering against her ribs.
"Yes," she whispered, leaning close. "I'm here, sweetie."
She pressed her ear flat against the edge of the painting.
"Where are you?"
"I... I don't know," the voice whimpered.
Fear rushed through Maya like a sudden draft of cold air.
Stepping back, Maya noticed fresh scrape marks along the base of the frame where dark walnut met marble.
Someone had moved this massive painting very recently.
She gripped the heavy frame and pulled. It barely shifted.
Bracing her feet against the marble, she pulled with everything she had.
Wood scraped harshly against stone.
A narrow, dark opening appeared behind the canvas.
Hidden inside the thick wall was a tiny, windowless chamber.
Bare concrete floors. No windows. No furniture.
May you like
Only a thin, crumpled blanket on the floor beside a crushed plastic water cup.
Curled tightly in the corner sat Noah.
