The Grimm Chronicles, Vol.1 by Ken Brosky, Isabella Fontaine Page B

castles. We’d had a sand castle competition. I remembered it now. I remembered I’d built a horrible tower with a young boy I hated and then the entire castle had fallen apart. I’d turned and run down the beach, crying. I got close to this tunnel. It had those words spray painted way back then.
    But not the one below it:
    ALICE
    I stepped onto the cracked concrete platform next to the tunnel, bent over and set down the glass. “No more,” I muttered.
    “No more.”
    My heart skipped a beat. I looked up. “Hello?” I called out.
    “No more.”
    The voice sounded like my own. It echoed inside the tunnel. I turned around: there was no one walking on the beach. Everyone was still by the picnic tables, dancing around the colored lanterns. I heard Tricia’s shrill laugh above everything else.
    “No more,” came the voice again.
    I stepped closer to the tunnel. The little voice inside my head said, “Woah. Wait. You’re getting closer? Really?” Yes, I thought. I had this urge to step closer and I couldn’t fight it.
    It was dark inside save for a faint gold-colored trail of light slipping out like a gentle stream of water. It flowed down the drainage ditch, splashing into Lake Michigan.
    “No more …”
    I reached into my pocket for the pen, and took it out and with one shaky hand began to draw a foil on the concrete slab. My mind whirled. Where did the bolt go? I couldn’t remember. My hand shook. When the picture was complete, it looked awful. I grabbed it anyway and the sword slipped out of the concrete intact. I swung it. The weight felt good. The thin blade cut through the air with ease. My mind had done a good job filling in for my shaky hand … at least it seemed so.
    “No more,” came the voice inside the tunnel. I walked toward it, glancing once over my shoulder to make sure none of the partygoers had wandered down the beach. I was still alone.
    “Where are you now, Briar?” I asked aloud.
    “Briar, Briar,” came the voice inside the tunnel.
    I stepped closer, grabbing the rusted iron bar with my free hand. The tunnel was no longer in use; that much was clear. Still, something was in here. Something evil.
    The trail at my feet illuminated the tunnel just a bit. I could see something up ahead. Something entirely peculiar. A broom. A shovel, too. They were moving back and forth deeper in the tunnel, at an intersection. They were like something out of a cartoon only here they were, real as the hair on my head.
    They paid no attention to me as I stepped closer. When I was at sword’s length, I gently reached out with the tip of the foil and pressed it against the wooden handle of the broom. It stopped moving, then shuddered, slowly burning away. I did the same with the shovel.
    “Alice …” came a voice deeper in the tunnel, echoing in every direction. My hands trembled. I stepped forward, following the glowing trail around a bend in the tunnel. When I saw what was waiting for me, I hopped backwards.
    “Oh, gross!” I said. “ Gross !”
    There, dancing on the floor of the tunnel, were dozens of severed fingers and hands. Dancing! I reached out with the tip of my foil, stabbing at each one, telling them all how ridiculous they were. What else could I do? They looked fresh and bloody and downright disgusting and they weren’t just moving, they were dancing!
    “Alice …”
    “I’m coming!” I yelled angrily. “I just need to stab a few more severed hands and I’ll be right there!”
    Finished, I walked deeper down the tunnel, where a new curious sound was coming from deeper within. Hissing. Or whispering. It seemed to fill the tunnel like a flood of water and I felt my legs turn into jelly. I just had to yell out, didn’t I? Couldn’t just keep quiet and hope for the best here, huh? I could have slapped myself.
    I turned another corner and stopped. The tunnel opened up a bit into a small box-shaped room that looked as if it had once allowed water to gather. Now, with no water, it had