The Mansion

by Peter Buckley

  ‘Where are you?’ Michael called, spinning round as he looked up at the ceiling.

  ‘Help me,’ John’s voice called again.

  Michael looked at the monitors and saw that Tony and Jeremy were still in the hallway upstairs banging on the doors. He heard John’s cry for help once more and decided to join the other investigators upstairs searching the rooms. He wasn’t bothered about Phoebe; he wanted to find his best friend.

  ***

  Tony and Jeremy tried the first door and found it to be locked. Tony beat his fist against it and called Phoebe’s name, but no answer came. The sensor that was flashing began to beep rapidly, causing Jeremy to pause as he tried the next door.

  What was it that John said? He thought to himself. The stronger the static charge near or around the sensor, the quicker the flashes and the louder the alarm will beep.

  The beeping increased in time with the pulsing lights and began to increase in level.

  Jeremy tried the door and it sprang open. For a moment everything was still and quiet, and then something pulled him into the room. The door slammed behind him. Tony saw his fellow investigator suddenly disappear out the corner of his eye. He turned and ran to the door, shoulder-barging it as hard as he could, and there was no resistance; the door gave way, and he fell into the room, crashing against the large crystal chandelier projector. The walls were awash with the grim pictures that were encased within it, and a strong cold wind blew around the room, making the crystals gently jingle as they moved. The pictures on the wall also moved, but not because of the wind blowing the chandelier. The pictures on the wall were alive. It was like watching a number of small movies on a cinema screen, only this one showed how the people that he had seen earlier were mutilated and killed. Hooded figures tortured the people with knives, spears, and burning torches.

  He forced himself to look away, searching the room for his friend. Tony saw a leg and then another. He crawled along the floor until he found Jeremy, who was sitting up against one of the walls. His arms were stretched out straight against the wall and his eyes were wide and didn’t blink; they looked like they had been glued open. They streamed with tears as the wind brushed against them and flung dust and dirt into them.

  Tony grabbed Jeremy by the jumper and pulled, but he didn’t move. He grabbed the jumper with his other hand and pulled again, and this time there was a little movement. He tugged again, and slowly Jeremy began to peel from the wall. Once he was free from whatever force had stuck him to the wall, Tony dragged him back to the opening of the room and back through the open door into the hallway. The moment they had cleared the door frame, the door slammed shut.

  Michael stopped his run when he saw the other two crawl out of the room. The beeping from the sensor was now a high-pitched wail.

  ‘I heard John calling for help,’ he shouted.

  The other two lay on their backs, staring up at him, mouthing and gesticulating that they couldn’t hear him.

  Michael stepped over them and ran to the sensor. He paused and then stamped his foot down as hard as he could. He repeated the stamping until all was silent. He ran back to the other two men, who were now sitting up, and repeated his message. They looked at each other and then stood quickly.

  ‘I’ll check the rooms on the right, and you and Jeremy search the rooms on the other side,’ Tony said quickly.

  ***

  Phoebe put her hands against the glass window of the children’s bedroom. The sharp, cold feeling momentarily stopped all other feelings until the numerous voices once again filled her head.

  ‘Stay with us,’ they said collectively.

  She turned around and saw several faint children’s figures dance around the room in front of her. It was like watching a sped up movie, where the person being shot is blurred by the speed of the film. She could tell that there were several because of the different colored dresses or shirts that they wore in their blurred appearance. She felt the strong biting wind that she felt at the bottom of the staircase wrap its coldness around her like a blanket. The next feeling she had was that of small hands holding her arms and legs. They began to pull her away from the window towards the pile of toys. Phoebe fought against the force that was pulling her. She grabbed the window frame with her fingertips and pulled. The adrenaline that surged around her body fought back against the fear and the hands that pulled at her.

  ‘Don’t go, we want you to stay,’ the voices chanted in unison.

  For a moment, the hands let go. Phoebe re-established her place in front of the window and began pounding her hands against the pane. Outside, a crow flew past idly, its blackness dirtying the light grey clouds and whiteness of the untouched snow. Its eyes catching glimpsed a woman banging against a window, but there was no sound.

  The cold wind increased in strength—as did the voices. They no longer called for her to stay; they now screamed at her in anger that she wanted to leave.

  Phoebe felt the hands grab her body once more. This time they pinched at her skin and pulled at her hair. She screamed as she continued to fight against the invisible force, once again clinging to the frame of the window by her fingers. The voices got louder and louder, shouting and screaming at her.

  ‘You are like the others!’

  ‘You will stay here forever! You will not leave us!’

  Amongst the young childlike voices were a few deeper, older ones. These shouted at her and bullied her senses.

  ‘You whore, we won’t let you leave.’

  ‘You are going to suffer like all the others, you bitch.’

  Tears flowed freely down her face as she fought to hold onto the window frame. She managed to scream and shout for help before using her remaining energy and fight to pull against the hands that tugged at her.

  Out of the corner of her tear-filled eye, she noticed a bright light begin to grow. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t help herself. From within the pile of toys, a bright white light began to shine. The toys surrounding it all held out their hands towards her as if it was they who were pulling her towards them. The light grew in size and brightness, and she could make out several figures standing on either side of the mountain of toys: boys and girls all laughing at her. She turned her face and looked to the window and her fingers. Standing in front of her was a young girl, her hair not being disturbed by the strong wind that circled the room, her dress, white with embroidered red roses, had a red stain around its neck. As Phoebe stared into the young girl’s pale face, she could see the long red open wound running around her throat. The young girl smiled at Phoebe and then began prying her fingers from the window frame. Each time the girl pulled a finger from it, Phoebe could feel the iciness of the girls touch. When the strength of the pulling hands over came the last two of her resisting fingers, Phoebe was pulled towards the light and the pile of toys. Phoebe’s wide eyes stared at the young girl, who waved at her. She tried to let out a final scream, but nothing escaped her mouth before her body was pulled into the space between the toys created by the bright white light.

  Phoebes’ last vision of the outside world before all went black was several children’s faces peering into the hole she was being sucked into and smiling.

  The moment the light died, the door burst open. Tony stood at the doorway breathing heavily. He had been wrestling with the door for a few minutes, fighting against either a strong wind that pushed the door closed each time he attempted to open it or an invisible force that teased him by allowing him to open the door slightly only to push it shut again.

  Tony’s eyes scoured the room. For the briefest of seconds, he saw the figure of a young girl standing by the window. He did a double take, but what or whoever he saw was gone. He walked over to the window and peered out. The snow covered landscape encapsulated him. Even though it was night, the light from the snow clouds and snow on the ground enabled him to see most of the garden. His moment of solace was broken by the giggles and laughter of children and the echoing cry for help from Phoebe.

/>   He called her name and waited, and her cry for help came again. He found it hard to pinpoint where her cry had come from due to the reverberation. He ran out of the room, into the corridor, and on to the next room.

  Jeremy and Michael paused outside the next bedroom door. They both put an ear to it and listened. When they heard nothing, they smiled to each other and removed their ears before Jeremy turned the handle and pushed the door open. The large four-poster bed with the stained mattress sat in the darkness of the room, its outline just visible. Jeremy slid his hand along the wall. The last thing he wanted was to enter the room completely until there was enough light to see everything in there.

  The chandelier burst into life, the small spots of light covering the walls and floor. A strong cold breeze moved around the room, causing the crystals of the light fixture to sway, the lights that they cast danced around the room, and the light chinking sound of them colliding added to the effect. The four-poster bed and its stained mattress stood somewhat proud in the center of the room. A strong damp smell attacked their senses. The smell was so strong that it also had a taste. They stepped into the room together and moved slowly towards the bed. They were so close together that to an outsider looking in they would have thought they were joined at the hip. As they moved around the room, they could hear the carpet beneath them give off squelching noises. They both paused looked down and saw that they were standing on a large dark stain. As they pushed down with their weight, thick red liquid spurted up over their shoes.

  ‘What the hell is that? Please don’t tell me that is blood,’ Michael said.

  Jeremy moved his feet around, displacing more of the liquid, and shrugged his shoulders before moving over to the bed. Michael stayed where he was and just stared at his feet. The cold breeze that had made the crystals move on the chandelier began to build in strength, its iciness making the two investigators shiver. The crystals began to chime louder and louder as they crashed together, causing the dancing lights to become blurred lines and circles as some began to rotate. Michael quickly moved towards Jeremy; he didn’t want to be on his own even if by a few meters. A red liquid began to seep from the large stains on the walls, and it flowed down to the floor and began to pool on the carpet.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Michael shouted against the now strong wind blowing around the room. He looked back at the door, and it was still open.

  ‘Ok there’s nothing in here anyway,’ Jeremy shouted back.

  They both turned and began moving to the open door. They had made only two steps each towards it when it slammed shut, and a deep voice began laughing.

  They looked at each other, tears beginning to well up in Michael’s eyes again. It had always been fun, sharing the odd scare here and there on ghost hunting nights with John; they were the ones who always had an answer to whatever happened; they were Tony’s debunkers. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he would have to deal with anything like this.

  Jeremy turned and pulled at the door handle. He may have been the more religious one of the group, but this was way above his expertise.

  They both began shouting for help, and the swirling cold wind that raced around the room forced them to shout as loud as they could.

  ‘You are my guests! Let me entertain you,’ the voice said. It was as if the cold wind were speaking to them because the voice was clear and unhindered by the wind’s noise.

  There was a cracking sound, and a heartbeat later, Jeremy sank to his knees. He screwed his face in agony. There was another cracking sound, and he screamed in pain once again. He arched his back as bloody slits appeared on his brown jumper.

  Michael stared at his colleague, mesmerized by the bloody whip marks appearing before his eyes.

  ‘Stop it,’ he screamed.

  The voice laughed once more.

  The wind began to die, and the clanging of the chandelier eased. The lights cast by the crystals returned to slow, swaying dots. The door opened slightly, forcing Michael to jump. He pulled at it, flinging it open until it crashed against the wall. Michael grabbed Jeremy by the armpits and dragged him into the corridor. Once clear of the room, the door slammed shut once more. Michael quickly moved to where he could see Jeremy’s back and the bloody cuts he had witnessed in the room. Jeremy remained on all fours, his breathing heavy.

  ‘What the?’ Michael said within a gasp through tear-filled eyes.

  ‘What is it? How bad is it? It stings and burns; what’s happened to me?’ Jeremy asked. There was a sense of exhaustion in his voice.

  ‘Nothing,’ Michael replied. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. The cuts and blood that I saw happening right in front of me are no longer there. There’s nothing wrong with your back.’

  ‘What do you mean? Nothing? I feel like I’ve been whipped,’ Jeremy said.

  Michael put his hand on Jeremy’s back just in case the angle he was standing was hiding the cuts.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ he said again.

  Michael sat down next to Jeremy, who turned over and sat motionless too. They both looked at the next door and then at each other.

  ‘You sure you heard him up here?’ Jeremy asked Michael.

  ‘His voice came from above me,’ Michael responded.

  They both looked at each other again and then stood and moved towards the last door on the left side of the hallway.

  ***

  Tony turned the handle of the bedroom door and pushed. The door swung open slowly with a creak, and he paused before stepping in. the door creaked as it closed slowly behind him. He turned and watched it close. When he heard the click of the lock, he returned his gaze back to the room. The grimy window let in a strange light cast from the reflection of the snow. He looked up at the mosaic mirror that covered the ceiling. His body was stationary, but his eyes were searching it. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he watched his reflection walk from his position over to the bed and smile at him. He quickly looked down at the bed but saw nothing. He returned his gaze to the ceiling, seeing his reflection now joined by a naked Phoebe. She sat next to the reflection of Tony, who then pushed her back onto the bed and buried his face into her naked breasts. Tony looked up and began shaking his head. Phoebe wrapped her legs around the waist of Tony and began moaning as she writhed around. The reflection of Tony then raised his hands above his head, and a long blade glistened in the low light. The blade was brought down quickly and with force into Phoebe’s chest. He shouted out as he watched blood spray from her chest and red splatter fly from the blade each time the reflection withdrew the blade only to plunge it in again.

  Tony forced himself to look at the bed and saw nothing. His chest began to feel tight, and he was struggling for breath. He stumbled towards the bed and collapsed onto it, burying his face into the cold covers. He turned his head to try and take in as much as air as possible. As he gulped large amounts of stale-tasting air, he noticed the painting. The skeletons that sat at the table were all gone. He could feel the tightness begin to lift and sat up, staring at the picture. A cold wind blasted from beneath the bed, lifting the sheets that hung over the gap between the floor and frame. He felt something grab his ankles and pull. Tony flew forward off the bed, crashing face first to the floor. He spread his hands out, trying to grip the smooth wooden floor but could feel whatever was pulling him was winning as he began to move towards the bed. He turned his head to see what was pulling him and shrieked when he saw four skulls grinning back at him, their bony fingers wrapped around his ankles and calves. He tried to kick but couldn’t create enough space or momentum to knock the skeletal hands off him.

  The skeletons dragged him beneath the bed, and he reached up in a last-ditch attempt to stop from being pulled completely under. He rolled onto his back and gripped the bed sheets, and there was a moment when he felt the sheets give way and then the weight of them, combined with the tightness of the tucked in corners, anchored him where he was. He could feel the skeletal hands begin to claw at th
e flesh on his legs. He grimaced as he felt the grating of bony fingers against his shin bone.

  There was then a huge sense of relief when the hands ceased clawing at him. He quickly kicked his legs, using them to push himself clear of the bed, and he stood quickly. First he checked the bed and then his legs; he couldn’t see any marks or tears in his jeans. He moved to the door and pulled at it, but it didn’t move. Whatever was in the room hadn’t finished with him yet; he could sense it. He quickly moved to the window and looked out. The blanket of snow cast an eerie light across the gardens; even the darkness of the gathered trees were lit by the pureness of the snow.

  A fox ran from beneath the trees and paused as it looked at the house and the man standing in the window. It then darted away as if it had seen a predator. Tony watched as dark, shadowy figures began appearing from beneath the trees. There was a strange humanness to the shapes, even though their form constantly changed. For a moment, he wasn’t concerned by the fact that the wind had begun to swirl around him in the room or that moments earlier he had been attacked by skeletal figures; he was mesmerized by the shapeless figures as they glided across the snow towards the house. He was so transfixed by the black figures that continued to move from within the trees that he didn’t even notice the growing white light that had begun to emanate from beneath the bed.

  The figures gathered on the snow-covered garden beneath the window that Tony stared out of. They then began to float up into the cold night air until they came level with the window. Tony continued to stare, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide in amazement. His body seemed to be unable to move from the spot he was standing. A voice in his head screamed at him to get away from the window and escape the room, but his body refused. The dark figures hung in front of him, their numbers growing until they began to melt together, creating a black blanket that covered his view of the whiteness of the garden. All of a sudden the black canvass in front of him came alive with hundreds of white eyes flickering open. His paralysis was broken with a sudden injection of terror at seeing all the eyes open, and he stumbled backwards. At last he felt the coldness of the wind against his face and the glow of the light beneath the bed. His heart pounded, his mind raced, and he turned to the door and pulled at it, but it still resisted. He looked up at the mirrored ceiling and saw hundreds of bright white eyes blinking at him. He looked at the white light beneath the bed and saw the skeletons who had attempted to drag him beneath it waving at him. He struggled to breathe as his heart raced faster and faster, and his lungs struggled to draw in enough air against the strong wind that blew around the room. Tony turned back to the door and began shouting and banging on the door. He tugged at it again and again.