The dark entrance of the ruined mausoleum beckoned to Jerold. For weeks he had a recurring dream; voices saying they waited for him. Voices telling him that he held the key to their freedom. So real the voices seemed, he spent every waking moment visiting all the cemeteries in the surrounding communities. Today he found the one that held the mausoleum from his dream.
The beam of the flashlight led the way. The stone steps cracked and crumbling in places. Jerold entered a small room, coffins and stone sarcophagi lined the walls. As the voices instructed, he turned off the flashlight and closed his eyes.
“You who have called, I have answered. You claim I hold the key to your freedom, but I don’t understand what you mean.”
A cold breezed flowed around him, goose bumps emerged on his arms, and he shivered.
“Welcome Jerold Matthews. Long have we waited for you to arrive.”
The cold air held Jerold in place and a he quivered in fear. “What do you mean?”
“You are my descendant on your father’s side. I and the others have been trapped here since our deaths. Your life holds the key to our freedom”
Heart racing, gasping for air, Jerold tried to step back, but his limbs refused to obey. A red light appeared before him, growing to the size of a man. A shadowy hand stretched forth from the light and plunged into Jerold’s chest, invisible claws grasped the heart. The last thing he heard would stay with him for eternity.