‘You are going to join us,’ a deep voice sniggered.
The door sprung open, catching Tony off guard. He fell backwards, his gaze looking up at the hundreds of white eyes staring at him. He rolled himself up onto his hands and knees and quickly scuttled out. The moment he crossed the threshold of the door, it slammed shut. He collapsed onto his back, gasping for air, and for the first time, he noticed the warm dampness on his upper leg. He lifted his head and looked at his leg and the damp patch where his bladder had given up trying to repress its contents against the terror and fear that surged through his body.
Jeremy and Michael pushed open the bedroom door. It opened slightly and then stopped. They exchanged glances, and Jeremy pushed the door a little harder. It began to move again, revealing the large four-poster bed in the center of the room bathed in a strange grey light. They slowly entered, moving quickly past the bed and to the large window. They stood starring out into the snow-covered front garden and driveway. They both looked down at the snow-covered vans that they had parked out front and then along the fine outline of the driveway border. Michael then grabbed Jeremy’s arm.
‘What you doing?’ Jeremy asked, pulling his arm away.
‘Look!’ Michael gasped before pointing out towards the statues that lined the long drive way.
Jeremy focused hard on the sculptures and then gasped himself.
Out in the snow-covered driveway, the strange contorted sculptures moved in swirling movements as if swaying to a silent piece of music. As they swayed in unison, a slight green hue surrounded them, making the sight even more sinister and scary.
Behind the two men staring out of the window, the door slowly closed, and the faint lines on the wallpaper began to emanate a bright red light,
The click of the door closing caught the men’s attention. They turned quickly and stared wide-eyed at the glowing red outline of several large pentagrams. The segments of the star had small symbols within them. The outer triangles of the star housed symbols that represented earth, wind, fire, water, and a circle with a hand print in the center. The large wardrobe began to vibrate, its doors rattling as if someone were trapped inside and was trying to get out. Michael grabbed Jeremy’s arm again, who was so overwhelmed by what he was seeing he didn’t notice his friend’s hand grip tighter and tighter.
The doors of the wardrobe suddenly burst open, and the two men were knocked to the floor by the sudden force of wind that escaped from it. The wind swirled around them. It had a thickness to it that made it feel like a snake was wrapping itself around their bodies. The intensity of the pentagram lines began to increase, before pulsing like a police car’s emergency lights. With each pulse came a wave of air that blasted the two men as they sat on the floor. Michael was the first to try and get up but found that he couldn’t. The sheer weight and density of the wind that flew around them had pinned him down. Jeremy tried, straining against the invisible force. He managed to move onto his knees when he felt a cold hand grab his shoulder. He looked back, expecting to see Michael holding him but was met by a large black shadow. He looked up to where the head and face should be but was met with a dark space with two bright white circles where his eyes should have been. Jeremy naturally drew in a lung full of stale, air ready to scream, when the shadowy figure plunged its free black hand into his open mouth. He could feel his airway begin to struggle against the smoky obstruction. He swatted at the shadow figure, but his arm passed straight through it. With every second, he could feel his life and fight begin to drain away.
Michael sat motionless as his friend fought against the large dark figure. The wind continued to swirl around him, pushing him back each time he attempted to move. He began to shout at the dark shape, cursing at it and pleading for it to stop and leave them alone.
The figure’s bright white eyes looked down on the man struggling for air beneath it and blinked.
The wind suddenly disappeared, the shadow was gone, and the walls were once again bathed in a strange grey light.
Jeremy began to gasp for air and cough. The sudden release from the invisible restraint forced Michael to shoot forward, almost head butting his own bent knee.
The bedroom door clicked and opened slowly. The two men looked up at it and quickly got to their feet and exited the room. They pushed themselves through the door into the hallway to find Tony sitting up with a large wet patch on his trousers. For a moment they did nothing but stare at each other.
It was then that they heard the laughter and music.
The three men looked at the first door in the hallway. It had been locked when they had tried it earlier but now it was open. Children’s laughter escaped the room, and a warm yellow glow shone from the small crack of the open door.
There was more laughter and music coming from downstairs, unlike the laughter in the bedroom, the several voices that giggled and laughed out loud were deep, strong, men’s voices.
‘What do we do?’ Jeremy asked, looking at Tony for an answer.
Tony shrugged his shoulders and then looked back at his two friends.
‘We need to find the other two, which means going in there,’ he said, nodding towards the open door of the bedroom.
He stood up and pulled his damp trousers away from his skin. The damp patch returned quickly to its original position, sending an unpleasant cold, wet feeling to Tony’s brain and causing him to shiver.
The three men slowly approached the open door, listening to the laughter and voices as they chattered away. Tony pushed the door, and it gently creaked open, revealing the room with a large four-poster and all the photos and paintings on the walls. They began to enter cautiously when Jeremy stopped them.
‘Wait, I’m not getting locked in this room.’ He quickly moved to the electrical charge detection machine that sat smashed in the middle of the hallway. He returned to the door and placed it against the door frame.
‘If the door tries to close, this will keep it open,’ he said.
The other two looked at it wedged against the door frame and then Jeremy nodded and proceeded into the room.
Laughter echoed around them, and the light from the small crystal chandelier cast a strange yellow hue onto the picture-covered walls. The light seemed to have a texture—a movement about it. It was this that intrigued Jeremy, who walked over to the wall that was covered in photographs and leaned into it, getting as close as her could without touching it. His eyes focused on the thin streamer-like lines that gently oscillated. He turned and looked at the chandelier and then back to the wall. What is making this movement? He thought to himself.
The other two walked around the large four-poster bed, watching as the sheets gently rose and fell as if someone were breathing from within the mattress, causing the sheets to rise in the form of a hill and then fall quickly as if being sucked back. They looked at each other. Michael continued to shake. Tony could see his fellow investigators hands and arms vibrating rapidly. He looked down at his own hands and lifted them slightly and noticed their tremor.
The laughter grew louder, and more and more voices joined in: chatter and then laughter, chatter and laughter.
‘What do you want?’ Michael shouted. He could no longer take any more; his mind was overcome by fear and panic. He began to cry uncontrollably. Jeremy moved over to him and put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. He could feel his friend flinch the moment his hand touched him.
‘What do you want? Where are they?’ he shouted again, through snot and tear-filled lips.
The laughter and chatter died. In that moment, all was silent, causing all three of the men to look at each other nervously. They could feel the tension in the air building. There was a sound like someone drawing in a breath, and then the answer came, with multiple voices responding in unison.
‘We want you to stay, join us. Yes, join us.’
At the same time that the voices answered, a strong blast of air engulfed the room. The bed sheet blew off the bed, momentarily covering Michael and Jeremy. In his hyster
ical and panic-stricken frame of mind, Michael began thrusting his arms out, trying to get the sheet off his head. He was so focused on removing the sheet he didn’t feel his hand collide with a heavy object.
Jeremy began pulling at the sheet. Just as it slid from his head, he was hit hard in the mouth and then in the nose by the flailing Michael. He fell backwards, falling like a felled tree, and the back of his head bounced off the wooden floor with a loud thud.
Tony moved quickly over to Jeremy, crouching next to him and lifting his head, calling his name. He could feel dampness on one of his hands; he removed it and saw it was covered in blood.
Michael began shouting and screaming for the voices to stop. Tony looked up and saw his friend spinning around. His hands covered his ears as he shouted at the invisible force and the voices. He finally stopped and ran towards the door. Just as he reached it, it began to close. Initially it was slow, but as he closed in, it picked up speed.
He looked at the broken electrical charge detector that was placed against the door frame and smiled to himself internally. The door slammed against the obstruction and began retreating a few inches before once again slamming into it. Michael reached the door and grabbed at it. He pulled with every last ounce of strength, trying to open it far enough for him to escape the room. The invisible force that continued to slam the door eased enough for Michael to open it and squeeze through.
He made it into the hallway, his right hand gripping the door frame to help steady himself while he fought to pass through the small gap. The door swung open and then smashed against the obstruction at the foot of the frame. What was left of the machine shattered, and the door slammed into its correct position.
Tony watched with horror as he saw his friend’s fingers fall to the floor on his side of the door and heard a blood curdling scream from outside. Then the voices began laughing once more.
Jeremy slowly opened his eyes. The blurred vision that greeted him was of his friend and group leader, Tony. The sudden throbbing feeling from the back of his head forced him to close his eyes again and reach back to where he felt a hand. When he opened his eyes again and brought his hand into view, he could see the crimson liquid that had escaped the large gash on the back of his head.
‘Oh Jesus,’ he said.
‘Come on,’ Tony exclaimed, getting to his feet and pulling his friend up with him. Bloody handprints covered the light brown jumper that Jeremy wore from where Tony had pulled at him; a larger, darker stain covered the neckline of the back of the jumper.
The laughter continued, and more and more voices joined in as they moved slowly towards the door. The strange waves of color on the walls began to build up speed, as did the wind that continued to swirl around them.
Jeremy found his eyesight finally begin to focus on what was around him as he and Tony closed in on the door. The photos and paintings that covered the walls were alive; all the faces were laughing. The people danced and jigged, and even the paintings seemed to move in a robotic fashion within the confines of their frames.
Tony grasped the door handle and pulled at it. The door resisted and stuck firm in its frame. He tugged again and again, but there was no movement. Jeremy looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything that they could use to pry open the door. Next to the artistic, boarded-up fireplace sat an old water jug with three iron poker looking implement handles. He ran over to the jug and pulled at one of the handles. He held up what he had grabbed and saw a blackened shovel-shaped end. He threw it to the floor and pulled the next handle. Again he inspected its end and saw the thick bristles of a fireplace brush. He threw that down next to the shovel and yanked at the last handle in the in the jug. He watched as a blackened, thick, pointed end of a poker came free of its dark home. He ran back to the door, pushing Tony aside and ramming the pointed end into the small gap between the door and the frame. He withdrew it several times and returned it sharply back into the same area of wood. The frame began to splinter and crack. As soon as there was enough of a hole, he forced the poker into it and began levering the door open. With each stab at the wood, the voices began to scream, pleading with the two men not to leave but join them.
The door opened with a crack. The force that had been holding it shut had given up. The door flew open, and the two investigators quickly exited. Tony even took time to pick up the three fingers that had fallen to the floor.
As soon as they were safely back in the hallway, the door slammed shut. They looked back down to the far end of it but could see no sign of Michael, only a pool of blood outside the door and then drops of the red liquid disappearing back towards the stairs. The sound of music still filled the air, as did the adult-toned laughter. Tony looked the three fingers he held in his hand and dropped them, disgusted with the fact that he had picked them up in the first place.
6
It was the sound of the door slamming shut and the sight of his hand being in its way that registered first; the pain was secondary, but when it came, it attacked him violently. He watched with tear-filled wide eyes as blood pumped from the three short red and purple stumps that were his fingers. The pain he felt somehow felt like it was coming from the ends of his fingers—the ones that were no longer there. Amongst the pain he was feeling, his ears picked out another sound: a childish snigger echoed around him. He pushed his bloody hand into his opposite bicep and held the injured appendage by the elbow, he hoped that this self-cradling arm position would help stop the flow of blood. He ran down the remaining hallway and back down the stairs, which were now illuminated by the large chandeliers that traced their way down the stairway. His subconscious noted that there was something different about the stairs as he descended them, but he was too busy running back to the dining room that had been the group’s base camp to take any notice.
He burst into the room expecting to see the bags, cases and monitors that he had helped set up, but all of that was gone. The room was filled with laughter, a bright orange glow of a fire, and smells of food. The laughter was coming from the men and women who were sitting at the table. Their conversations ceased as they all looked at him. A broad-shouldered man who sat at the far end of the table stood and raised his glass towards the injured investigator.
‘I am so glad you have decided to join us,’ he said.
The others in the room joined him by raising their glasses before taking a sip.
Michael stood frozen, and sweat began flowing down his already moist face. He looked at all the faces staring at him and noticed their pale complexions. There was a strange blue tint to their skin. His attention was then caught by something in his periphery. He looked at the food laid out on the table. His eyes widened so much they could have fallen out of their sockets, and he began to struggle for breath. His chin once again began to tremble, signaling the start of another flood of tears.
The people at the table returned their attention to the food and conversation, apart from the man at the head of the table, who continued to stand and stare at Michael with an evil smile across his face. The guests began pulling at the cooked flesh of the now headless and garnished body of the missing investigator and Michaels best friend, John.
He wanted to run but couldn’t move, fear had caused his limbs to refuse any order his brain was telling them. He stood staring at the pale guests ripping pieces of flesh from John’s body and impatiently feeding it into their mouths.
‘See, not only has your male friend joined us, but your female companion has agreed to entertain us,’ the broad-shouldered man said, looking up at the twisted sculpture of deer antlers.
Michael followed the man’s gaze and noticed the sculpture begin to move. It rotated like a tornado in slow motion. His cradled arms dropped to his sides when he saw Phoebe appear, her naked, impaled body moving with the rhythmic movement of the antlers. Two antler horns pierced her breasts where her nipples once were, and another seemed to curve round and insert itself into her vagina.
His jaw began to loosely vibrate as if he was
trying to say something, but nothing but low quiet moans escaped him. The door opened that led towards the kitchen, and a headless body dressed in a maid’s clothing walked in. The body carried a large silver dome-covered serving tray. She moved around the table, placed it in a small space amongst all the other food, and lifted the cover.
Michael screamed when he saw his friends head. Johns face was covered in blisters and charred skin where he had been cooked, and the skin had cracked and hardened like a roast chickens. His mouth was open with his tongue stretched out over his lower lip and chin.
He could take no more. Michael’s last vision was a blurred, almost melted collage of color as he collapsed onto the small pool of blood that had escaped his swollen, stumped fingers.
7
Tony and Jeremy could hear the laughter coming from downstairs. They looked at each other with exhausted eyes.
The Mansion Page 5
