In the darkness of long halls nothing moved but the trapped winds of long, empty years. The exterior of the building was native stone, in which moss competed with vines, and spiders skulked in the cool, shadowed depths.Ī wind that moaned and moved with the sluggishness of a reptile stirred the papers among the debris in the corners of the shuttered rooms, lifting the letter from among the rags. The long west wing had barred windows on both upper and lower floors. Behind the lobby squatted a one story addition, shorter than the wings, that had once contained the kitchen and utility rooms and offices. The building had a central core, a large lobby, from which two long wings stretched back at angles of fifty degrees for 180 feet, like the wings of an insect resting on the grass.

Numbers beneath the name on the sign claimed the nursing home had been built in 1926.

No one climbed over, not now, nor in the past. The tall chain-link fence that was hidden among the trees and vines still had barbed wire at the top. Trees had grown up in the driveway to become young contenders for the long-empty space. Mosses grew deep in the letters, and vines curled around the metal arch, almost entirely obliterating the name. The sign arching above the rusted, locked gates read Hawthorn Hill Nursing Home. Would they know who had broken the chain letter by who had died? Abby and Brian slowly became obsessed with finding the torn-off portion of the chain letter and learning what is supposed to happen to those who break the chain. Over the next few weeks, Abby, Brian and their family and friend’s lives came to revolve around that letter. The letter plainly stated: Whosoever possesseth this letter and dares to break this chain shall suffer disaster and death. This was unlike any chain letter they had ever seen. What they did find was a torn portion of a spooky chain letter-with spidery words elegantly penned on yellowed paper edged in black. They searched high and low but could not find Babs. Then, under the fence and into a huge, abandoned old nursing home. Up a big hill to a tall chain-link fence. Along the way, Babs got loose and led them on a merry chase. Shelly agreed, but suggested that they take the short-cut through the woods. Abby then wanted to stop and ask Shelly to join them. Without asking permission, Brian put his best leash on Babs and off they went. First, Abby talked Brian into taking along Babs, his six-month-old golden retriever. Youngsters Abby and Brian decided to spend the afternoon riding their bikes to the Speedee-Mart and buying a few treats.

Chain Letter by Ruby Jean Jensen