Read Online Adduné - the Vampire's Game by Wendy Potocki - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wendy Potocki
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pressing on any walls. He shook his head remembering that this was just a dream … none of it was real. If Reginald didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he was caught up in one now. He heard Figgs’ voice come at him as if out of a thickening mist.
“ I’d walk over to it and stand staring at it. I was always so frightened. You know how you get so scared in dreams that you feel paralyzed. Well, that’s how I felt, sir. Paralyzed. I’d be looking at it wanting to run away, but I’d hear my name. It tried to convince me that everything would be okay if I’d just let it out.”
Figgs’ hands started shaking so badly that the bottom of the glass was hitting against the tabletop. The sound punctuated the horror of the dream and made Reginald more nervous. He wanted to grab the glass from him and set it down, but didn’t dare break the spell.
“ I didn’t want to, sir!” Figgs blurted – tears streaming down his face. He was sniffling now. His whole face was overcome with emotion, but Figgs only continued to stare into the glass. “But I did anyway! It was almost like I had to! I’d feel myself raise up that blasted hammer – pulling out those copper nails one-by-one!”
Reginald stared at him. His mouth was still movin’. Forming the outline of words that were yet to be spoken. What more was there for him to say? Reginald hoped he was done, but he wasn’t.
Reginald didn’t want to hear anymore. It was crazy for him to be sitting and listening to this bizarre nightmare, but he couldn’t move. As Figgs had been forced to open the coffin, Reginald knew that he needed to sit and listen until the very end.
Figgs began mimicking the action that took place in the dream. It looked as if Figgs was pulling out nails – although there was no hammer in his hand and no coffin. Reginald wished he’d stop, but the mad pantomime continued.
“ I just kept on pullin’ ‘em out, sir!” Reginald muttered under his labored breath. He was reliving the nightmare – sucking Reginald in with him. The temperature had dropped in the kitchen. He could see Figgs’ breath now, vapor escaping as he spoke.
“ I knew I shouldn’t and yet I did until … until … I got to the last one,” Figgs gasped as his hand finally dropped to the table. Reginald felt his body jerk in response to the noise. Figgs was struggling to get it all out.
“ Then there was the last one. It was holding the lid in place and … I heard scratching, sir. Coming from inside. Like this, sir …”
Figgs drew his hands across the table – letting his fingernails scratch against the surface. Despite the frigid cold, his face was dripping with sweat. Reginald was now feeling what Figgs felt. He was experiencing Figgs’ nightmare. He could now fully imagine the fright that Figgs felt in his dream. Knowing that whatever was in the coffin was trying to escape. Knowing that something was alive beneath the lid and that one mere nail kept it at bay.
The scratching stopped as Figgs went on.
“ I moved my hammer over to the last nail, sir. I dug the claw down underneath it … when I heard this knocking begin. A loud knocking! Like a pair of fists underneath that lid, banging to get out and I pulled it anyway! Pulled out that nail and tossed it to the ground like I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”
Figgs’ hand pounded against the table. The small bit of water left in the glass was moving – refracting light onto the table. He was crying again. He ducked his head down and squeezed his head with both hands. He looked up pleadingly at Reginald. It looked to Reginald like he was asking for absolution, but from what? That’s what Reginald needed to find out.
“ This is so hard for me to say, sir, but it was what I dreamt! I heard the nail hit the ground! I watched it bounce and as I did, I heard soft creakin’. I knew it was the lid. I knew it was openin’! I turned and looked. The lid
“ I’d walk over to it and stand staring at it. I was always so frightened. You know how you get so scared in dreams that you feel paralyzed. Well, that’s how I felt, sir. Paralyzed. I’d be looking at it wanting to run away, but I’d hear my name. It tried to convince me that everything would be okay if I’d just let it out.”
Figgs’ hands started shaking so badly that the bottom of the glass was hitting against the tabletop. The sound punctuated the horror of the dream and made Reginald more nervous. He wanted to grab the glass from him and set it down, but didn’t dare break the spell.
“ I didn’t want to, sir!” Figgs blurted – tears streaming down his face. He was sniffling now. His whole face was overcome with emotion, but Figgs only continued to stare into the glass. “But I did anyway! It was almost like I had to! I’d feel myself raise up that blasted hammer – pulling out those copper nails one-by-one!”
Reginald stared at him. His mouth was still movin’. Forming the outline of words that were yet to be spoken. What more was there for him to say? Reginald hoped he was done, but he wasn’t.
Reginald didn’t want to hear anymore. It was crazy for him to be sitting and listening to this bizarre nightmare, but he couldn’t move. As Figgs had been forced to open the coffin, Reginald knew that he needed to sit and listen until the very end.
Figgs began mimicking the action that took place in the dream. It looked as if Figgs was pulling out nails – although there was no hammer in his hand and no coffin. Reginald wished he’d stop, but the mad pantomime continued.
“ I just kept on pullin’ ‘em out, sir!” Reginald muttered under his labored breath. He was reliving the nightmare – sucking Reginald in with him. The temperature had dropped in the kitchen. He could see Figgs’ breath now, vapor escaping as he spoke.
“ I knew I shouldn’t and yet I did until … until … I got to the last one,” Figgs gasped as his hand finally dropped to the table. Reginald felt his body jerk in response to the noise. Figgs was struggling to get it all out.
“ Then there was the last one. It was holding the lid in place and … I heard scratching, sir. Coming from inside. Like this, sir …”
Figgs drew his hands across the table – letting his fingernails scratch against the surface. Despite the frigid cold, his face was dripping with sweat. Reginald was now feeling what Figgs felt. He was experiencing Figgs’ nightmare. He could now fully imagine the fright that Figgs felt in his dream. Knowing that whatever was in the coffin was trying to escape. Knowing that something was alive beneath the lid and that one mere nail kept it at bay.
The scratching stopped as Figgs went on.
“ I moved my hammer over to the last nail, sir. I dug the claw down underneath it … when I heard this knocking begin. A loud knocking! Like a pair of fists underneath that lid, banging to get out and I pulled it anyway! Pulled out that nail and tossed it to the ground like I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”
Figgs’ hand pounded against the table. The small bit of water left in the glass was moving – refracting light onto the table. He was crying again. He ducked his head down and squeezed his head with both hands. He looked up pleadingly at Reginald. It looked to Reginald like he was asking for absolution, but from what? That’s what Reginald needed to find out.
“ This is so hard for me to say, sir, but it was what I dreamt! I heard the nail hit the ground! I watched it bounce and as I did, I heard soft creakin’. I knew it was the lid. I knew it was openin’! I turned and looked. The lid
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