Chapter 1: A disturbance.
The silence of the museum was broken only by the light tapping of a shoe as a man paced around, the beam of his torch light glancing off dinosaur bones, army replicas and stuffed animals leering at him. The man's name glinted on the silver badge pinned to his chest, showing he was called 'Frank Beech'. He was a night watchman for a museum in a lonely little town. He had recently been released from prison and had taken this job just to get enough money to buy his food.
As he turned the corner his torchlight briefly illuminated his dark shoulder-length matted hair and sharp face. Then the torchlight was back to shining at the various exhibits, jumping slightly as Frank moved. He completed a lap around the museum when his torch suddenly went out. There was nothing strange about that, torch batteries ran down all the time, he pulled a spare out of his pocket and quickly switched batteries. It was as he was fumbling with the batteries that he happened to glance upwards. He noticed that at the end of the long corridor he was in, with old army gear covering the sides, that there seemed to be a faint white light. However when his torch came back on, there was nothing at the end of the corridor.
He made his way cautiously towards the end of the corridor, his hand moving towards the walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. He reached the corridor and shined his torch around. There was nothing here apart from a bathroom and a fire extinguisher stuck to the wall. He was turning around when he heard a dripping sound. Turning back to the bathroom he saw that one of taps at the opposite end of the bathroom was on and water was dripping into the basin below it. He walked forwards on impulse grabbed the tap and quickly turned it off. He looked up into the mirror above it slowly, not quite knowing why. Behind him was a faint white light growing bigger. He spun round quickly. There was nobody else in the room apart from him. He shone his torch around the rest of the bathroom but everything seemed normal.
It was as he was just about to leave the bathroom when he heard it. The dripping had started again. He froze in the doorway and very slowly turned to shine his torch back towards the tap at the opposite end of the bathroom. It wasn't dripping yet the sound continued. He hurried back into the bathroom and shone his torch around at the other taps, the light dancing off the marbled tiles. None of them were on. It was at that point that he realised the dripping sounds weren't coming from one place in the bathroom, if was coming from everywhere. Even the walls seemed to be making the sound. He ran out of the bathroom. It was then when he heard another sound, one that rooted him to the floor. Footsteps. He turned very slowly to look down a corridor to his right, which lead to a large storeroom and fire exit. There was a white light at the end of the corridor gradually getting larger. The footsteps were eminating from the light and he thought he could hear something whispering his name, just on the edge of his hearing.
Frank ran forwards down the corridor facing him. He tore round several corners, smashing into a suit of armor in his haste. Parts of the medival armor rained down on him as he ran towards the main doors. He grabbed the handle and tried opening it, but it was locked. He pounded on the door trying to open it but it wouldn't budge. Usually the nightwatch man would have a key with him, but Frank usually left by a side door, so he only kept that key with him. He froze as he heard footsteps behind him again. The hand holding the torch shaking, he turned around and shone his torch up at the light shining from the stairs.
In the middle of the light there was a figure. Clothed in rags, it was soaked in water. It was running off the figures hair and clothes and dripping onto the floor. There was a cut on the figures head, the red of the blood the only thing adding colour to the whole body. The figure's eyes were open but they were milky white. Whoever the figure was, they were clearly dead. Its face was pale and it's hair lank and dishevled. Frank backed up to the door.
"Frank…" Whispered the figure. The voice had eminated from the figure's direction but its mouth hadn't moved. "No!" screamed Frank, the terror plain in his voice. The figure began to descend the steps, eerily sliding from one step to another. "Why Frank…?" Came the voice. Frank turned, pounding the door until his fists were cut, leaving a blood stain on the reinforced glass of the door. All the time the figure was getting closer. "You're dead, you crazy bitch! You're dead!" Screamed Frank, blood flowing from his cut knuckles. The figure was now close to Frank. "Frank…" It whispered again. He dropped the torch, it's glass shattered as it hit the floor, it's light going out instantly. Frank Beech's petrified scream was suddenly cut short.