Upon a closer look, by which means Tom squinting both his eyes, he noticed that his uncle's left cuff had a raised motif that looked somewhat like a coiled serpent. Suddenly it moved its head to look directly at Tom.
Tom jumped and knocked his chair backwards, which fell with a loud bang on the kitchen's linoleum floor.
"What's the matter with you, Tom?" asked Aloysius as he raised his eyes slowly from his food.
"Er.... It's...." Tom broke off as he darted a quick glance to his uncle's cuff again. "Something on my sleeve?" Aloysius asked, and slowly brushed his long fingers over the coiled serpent on his cuff.
It was now perfectly still and looked just like any other pattern on a shirt.
"No. No. It's no-nothing. Some coffee spilled on my lap." Tom stuttered.
"Coffee? Weren't you having juice, my dear?" Aloysius said with a slight smirk.
Flushing slightly, Tom said "Oh yes, I meant juice. Ha-ha."
"Alright gentlemen! Let's stop fussing over who drank juice or coffee now, shall we? Time for some games!" announced his dad, who was oblivious to what just happened as he only had one thing in mind: beating his brother at chess. Afterall, he only saw his brother twice per year.
The trio proceeded to the living room where Tim Radnog quickly set up a chess set and three chairs.
Rubbing his hands together with glee, he declared confidently:
"Ok Tom, this time it will be you and Uncle Aloysius against me! I'm sure I will have your Queen in no time!"
"Oh dear Lord, no way am I going to be playing with Uncle Aloysius after what just happened."
Tom decided he had a stomachache and groaned loudly: "Oh Dad, you know how juice always upsets my stomach in the morning! I'll join you two immediately after I'm out of the loo!"
Without waiting for their replies, he made a quick dash up the mahogany stairs and into his room.
"That was so freakin'close!" Tom exclaimed loudly to himself and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Carey's head suddenly popped out from Tom's closet, along with a duster in her hand, and teased: "Why Master Tom, you should have knocked!"
"For goodness sake, why should I? It's my room!" replied Tom while rolling his dark brown eyes.
"Having a stomach upset, right?" Carey winked at Tom.
"Please don't make me go back down! Uncle Aloysius gives me the creeps!" Tom pleaded.
"Well, it's your room." Carey replied with a deadpan face.
Just then, his father bellowed from the hall: "Young man! You better come down here this instance!"
"Hell no?" Tom muttered under his breath before shouting: "I'm coming!!"
Carey, being the ever helpful maid, walked over to the toilet and pressed the flush button for him.
Tom quickly made his way down and took his seat beside his uncle. Tom was very surprised that the two of them played rather well together, and managed to beat his father in two out of three games before Tim Radnog called it a day.
"How is it that I lost?" Tim mulled over his moves while they were packing up. Looking at his brother's contenance, Aloysius said coolly: "Looks like the Queen wasn't yours to keep eh, Tim?"
"For now perhaps, but not for long." Tim replied somewhat bitterly, failing to hide his unhappiness at losing.
"Perhaps. And I have to go now. If I might add, we make a good team, even if we don't speak much." Aloysius looked briefly at Tom as he said that and turned away before Tom could reply.
"Do we even speak?" Tom mused silently to himself as they walked his uncle out the door.
After sending his uncle off, Tom was quick to pepper his father with questions about Aloysius Radnog.
"Dad, why is Uncle always so abrupt? And did you see the way he looks at me? It's as if I owe him the world and it's always so awkward when we meet! Also, at the dinin-" Tom broke off when he noticed his father was not paying attention. He was deep in his own thoughts and Tom could see a slight flush on his neck, which appeared whenever he became frustrated or angry.
Tom became concerned and asked: "Dad? Are you alright?"
Tim Radnog ignored his son, and it was not completely clear if he actually heard him or not, as he started walking down the hallway into his study.
"Dad..." Tom trailed as he followed closely behind his dad, lost in his own thoughts, but stopped short when the door to his father's study slammed rudely in his face.
"Czh-czh."
The click of the door lock resounded in the hallway, surrounding Tom, and left him feeling bewildered at his dad's sudden moodswing.
"What exactly has gotten into him??" Tom scratched his head frustratedly.
He decided to put his ear next to the door to see if he could make out anything. All Tom could hear was the rustling of papers and his Dad's muffled voice, talking to himself agitatedly.
The word he heard most distinctly was a frustrated "WHY?!" before his dad's footsteps came storming toward the door.
Tom dashed beneath the stairway and watched as his red-faced father banged the door open angrily and went up the stairs, trapped in his bad mood. He quickly took his chance and ran into the study his dad had just exited.
It was his first time in the century-old room and Tom felt awestruck just standing in it. As he looked up, all he saw was high ceilings that never seemed to end, and light that reflected back from the huge chandelier above him blinded him momentarily. Looking across, tall windows showed him a great view of the Radnog estate, with the giant oak trees in plain sight. They were painstakingly planted by his great grandfather, Dranian Radnog, and each stood proudly at over ten metres tall. Turning around, Tom was amazed by the rows of bookshelves surrounding him, and lost count as his eyes dropped on a lustrous table in the centre of the sprawling room. He felt drawn to it immediately, and started running his long fingers over its golden surface and realised, with a soft gasp, that it was a table made of gold itself.
There was a tinny scent in the air, characteristic of metal, as Tom stood still to admire the burnished material.
His eyes moved to a faded picture that lay under a silver pen, and he could make out three people smiling brightly, as if no troubles could come their way.
Peering closer, he saw that it was a photograph of his father and Uncle Aloysius in their younger days. But he did not recognise the woman they were embracing. Curiousity got the better of him and he moved the pen to pick up the thin, browning piece of paper.
In the instant Tom's index finger touched the pen, he felt a tremendous weight descend upon him, forcing him into the carmine-red leather chair at the desk.
The young boy was flabbergasted as he struggled mightily to get up, but his effort was futile against this invisible force.
Against his will, Tom's hand picked up the silver pen and started writing, on the table. Tom's face was a contorted picture of confusion and fear. He wanted to scream for help but only a voiceless gasp made its way of out his throat.
Slowly, he saw letters forming as his hand moved: "T-o-m h-e-l-p m-e"
As soon as the last letter was finished, Tom felt the weight lift from his body and he collapsed into the chair, dropping the pen with a loud clatter.
"Oh my god, oh my god..what on Earth just happened?" Tom muttered incoherently to himself while breathing heavily.
He leaned forward apprehensively and looked at the message again. The cursive font was scratched deeply into the golden surface and it was clear.
"Tom help me"
Someone, or some thing, knew who he was and wanted his help. Tom picked up the silver pen and saw that its ink tip was still intact, making what happened just now incomprenhensible to his mind.
"I really hope Dad doesn't see this!" Tom uttered, suddenly more concerned about having destroyed his dad's furniture and leaving his name behind, literally.
Right away, he heard loud footsteps approaching the study and hastily dived into the bookshelves to the right of the table, hoping to hide himself within them.
Peeping across the books, Tom saw his father approach the table, and pick up the old photograph when he suddenly shifted his gaze to the space where the message was scratched. Tim Radnog's expression was initially impassive and Tom observed it changing to one of shock and disbelief. Was there also something else he saw in his father's eyes, something more cruel and hateful? Tom dismissed that thought quickly and held his breath as Tim looked around the room, as if scanning for an intruder. The tension Tom felt seemed thick enough to choke the life out of him there and then.
Tim's beady eyes stopped moving when he laid them on the bookshelves, right where Tom was hiding.
"Come out, come out wherever you are.." Tim called out in an uncharacteristically singsong voice, sending goosebumps all over Tom's body. The silence that followed fell upon two of them like a woollen blanket, absorbing all sounds of life, and made the room feel bigger than ever.
"You better come out now... Don't make me find you!" Tim suddenly snarled, his face darkening and changing into an ugly mask.
Left with no choice, Tom stepped out from behind the towering bookshelf and faced his father.
"It.. It wasn't me Dad! The pen.. It just started wri-" Tom started explaining himself, eager to calm his father down.
Tim Radnog cut him off abruptly and said in a stage whisper: "It's alright son, as long as we don't tell anyone about it, shall we?"
"Er..... Okay?" Tom was caught by surprise at his dad's second moodswing of the day. From his dad's initial reaction, he was expecting to be punished or scolded but he was let off the hook just like that.
"Pinky promise?" asked Tim as he winked, albeit a bit too cheerily.
"Pinky promise." Tom replied his dad, as a nagging sensation settled in his gut.
"Come now, why would I blame my dearest son for such a small matter?" said Tim as he led them out of the study.
Tom wasn't listening as he took a backward glance towards the table, and he thought he saw the woman from the picture standing there, looking straight at him.
***to be continued in Chapter 2***
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