Free The Coffin (Nightmare Hall) by Diane Hoh Page A

of the small cracks, but could see only an edge of the fireplace mantel, which did her no good at all.
    She managed to turn around, facing the front of her narrow cell. She pushed against the door. Then pushed again, harder this time. Her breath came in shallow gasps. She wished that she were wearing heavy work boots so she could kick at the door. Bare feet were useless.
    She reached out to press against the walls on either side of her, as if by doing so, she could push them farther away, giving her more room. She was suddenly desperate for more room. The lack of space made her feel as if she were being squeezed like an accordion.
    It was hopeless. She wasn’t going to get out of here on her own. Hastily put together or not, the tall, narrow box made an effective prison.
    What was he doing to her? And why was he doing it?
    Her palms still pressing against the side walls, her back against the rear wall, Tanner sank slowly to the floor, where she had to bend her knees for lack of room.
    She placed her hands in her lap and let her chin rest on her chest. Maybe none of this was really happening. It couldn’t be real. How could it?
    She stared into the darkness, her eyes widening with hope. Maybe it wasn’t real. She couldn’t be sure exactly when, but at some point after she’d arrived home, maybe she’d fallen asleep. Maybe … maybe when she went upstairs to look for Silly.
    Yes … yes! That had to be it. Of course! She remembered standing in the middle of her bedroom when she hadn’t been able to find Silly. That must have been when she’d gone over to lie down on her bed, probably intending to just rest for a minute. And she’d fallen sound asleep instead.
    Which made everything after that a dream. A horrible, creepy nightmare but still, not real! So she wasn’t actually sitting in this narrow, airless box. She was lying on her bed upstairs, sound asleep. Silly was somewhere in the house or the backyard and there was no intruder who looked like something risen from the grave.
    Feeling much better, Tanner leaned against the back wall of the coffin and closed her eyes, deciding that the best thing to do was wait patiently for the dream to be over. Not that she had a choice.
    She didn’t hear the music room door open. Her first awareness that she was no longer alone came when a sudden burst of light told her the door to the coffin had been yanked open.
    Shielding her eyes against the light, Tanner raised her head.
    The repulsive gray mask stared down at her. “Well, how do you like it? Not much fun, is it? But then, it’s not supposed to be. It’s actually been proven very effective in disciplining those wild, unruly creatures whom society chooses to call ‘difficult’ or ‘wayward.’ Wayward youth, ah, what an expression. Implies that they’re going in the wrong direction, right?” He laughed bitterly. “Like the people in charge actually know what the right direction is! That hasn’t been my experience, I can tell you.”
    Tanner blinked. It hadn’t been a dream, after all? Disappointment washed over her, painful as an acid bath.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he continued, one hand holding the door open, “this is what we call ‘The Booth.’ Looks kind of like a coffin, doesn’t it? This is where people are sent when they break a rule, no matter how slight the infraction. Maybe they mouth off, or resort to a sharp kick or a punch to settle a dispute, or maybe they don’t make their bed one morning because they’re in a hurry, or they don’t hang up their clothes exactly the right way. So they have to go into The Booth.”
    “What are you talking about?” Tanner cried, struggling awkwardly to her feet. Her legs were cramped, and she had to stamp her bare feet on the wooden floor to restore circulation.
    “Never mind. That’s in the past. For me, anyway. Look, you said you were hungry,” he said flatly. “You can come out and eat. But if you give me any trouble at all, you’ll be back in The Booth so