by James Somers
The lantern light faded and with it the figures clamoring about outside the manor. The yard returned to its former unkempt state. The wind died. The leaves fell to the earth. The clouds dissipated, and the darkness lifted.
Dusk returned with its angry orange sun slipping through the partially bare trees toward the mountains in the distant west. Inside the ring of trees, all returned to what it had been before Archie Winebottle’s trespassing. Percival gasped from his hiding place just beyond the boundary of the clearing around the old house.
He shook with excitement and terror. The sudden storm, the zombies springing from the yard, chasing the bank robber into the house and his final muffled scream—he had witnessed things beyond his comprehension.
Percival knew the police would think him a lunatic if he charged in, telling them of zombies and old haunted houses deep in the woods. It had returned to a rotting old house. “Sure, kid, whatever.” That’s what they would say.
He looked at the boundary of trees. All these things had happened when the man stepped into the clearing beyond these trees. Percival lifted his foot. Did he dare? He looked at the house. Not alone. First, I’ve got to tell Violet about this.
LUCKY CHARMS
Violet Charms had never been an especially pretty girl, at least not the sort who became a prom princess or cheerleading captain. Percival had always liked her nonetheless. He’d never had a better friend.
From first grade on up, they had lived next door to one another and managed to have all sorts of adventures together. Violet would lead them into trouble and always manage to scrape out of the situation. Percival had dubbed her Lucky Charms, and the name stuck.
Percival watched her through the storefront window of Mr. Iito’s Mixed Martial Arts Academy. Today, Violet faced the Randori—an Aikido exercise where one person defends against several attackers. Three young boys stood opposite Violet on the mats—all wearing protective pads. One held a rubber knife, another a rubber club. The last simply used his bare hands.
They charged Violet as Mr. Iito gave the word. She dodged to the left, forcing disorganization as the boy in the middle and another to the right tried to get past the boy on the left in order to attack. Violet deflected a rubber club strike, caught the arm, disarmed the boy then hip tossed Flick Williams to the mat.
Lug Nutberry flew at her with his rubber knife as the first boy went down. Violet pulled back her torso, catching his wrist. She twisted the knife away from his hand, kicking him just above the knee. Lug’s charge ended with him flat on his face.
Violet charged the last boy, blocked a punch then thrust her palm under his chin unbalancing him. Hugh Chesterton fell back as Flick Williams got up, intending to come at Violet again. She rounded on him, flying into a tornado kick that caught him across the face pads.
Mr. Iito called time. Violet stopped short of another blow to Lug Nutberry who had just gotten up off the floor. Mr. Iito mussed Violets sandy brown hair. “Very good, Violet.”
Percival watched with pride and smiled. Violet spotted him through the glass, giving a little smile and wave as she got back in line on the mat. Mr. Iito critiqued the performance of several kids in the class then dismissed them. The other kids gathered their backpacks and belongings, starting out the door to find waiting parents in the cars outside. Violet remained longer, so Mr. Iito could speak with her.
Percival hadn’t noticed three shadowy reflections rise up behind his own on the glass. “Here to watch your boyfriend, Strange?”
Percival turned to find Flick, Lug and Hugh sweating behind him. “I’d think you would know Violet from a boy by now, Lug. After all, that was her in there slamming your face into the mat, wasn’t it?”
Lug grabbed Percival’s shirt as the other two boys crowded in. The bell on the door chimed as Violet walked through. “Do you punks have a problem I can help you with?” she asked.
They looked at Violet apprehensively. Lug let go of Percival’s shirt. “I guess your momma showed up just in time, eh, squirt?”
The others joined in mocking. “Momma’s boy, Momma’s boy!”
A horn blew in the parking lot. “Lug! Lug Nutberry, you better get into this car right now! Do you here me?”
“Coming, Momma!” Lug and the other boys gathered their gear and ran out to the car. They got into the lime green Chevy Nova, with its missing fender, then drove out of the parking lot, trailing white smoke behind them.
Violet laughed. “Goodbye, Momma’s boy!” She offered Percival a high-five which he gladly returned. “You don’t always have to come to my rescue, Violet.”
“Hey, I’m just looking out for my best bud in the whole world, right?” She slung her backpack onto her shoulders. “What are you doing down here today, anyway?”
Percival picked up Violet’s bike, offering it to her before getting his own. “You won’t believe it, Lucky. I’ve got something awesome to show you.”
BEWARE
It took them a half hour to pedal back through the woods on their dirt bikes from their neighborhood. Violet had changed into jeans and a sweater jacket while Percival secured two flashlights and a few other items just in case. The moon had already become visible against the fading blue of dusk. “Maybe I should have waited. I didn’t realize it would take us this long to get back out here,” Percival said.
Violet pedaled around a tree on the well worn path. “Nah. Besides, tomorrow is Sunday. We wouldn’t have time to get out here in between church services.”
Percival looked behind him then back to the path. “Yeah, but I don’t want to get you all creeped out or anything.”
“Are you kidding me? When have you ever known me to get creeped out?” Violet protested.
Percival thought about it, grinning. “There was that rat.”
“Enough of the rat story, okay? I hate rats…a lot of people hate rats, Percival.”
Percival laughed, and Violet laughed with him. “I forgot to tell you that we’ll have to get off the path over the next hill.”
Violet sped up. “No problem. How far back do we have to go?”
“I think, if we really move, we can get there in about fifteen minutes,” Percival said.
They rode over the final hill and found the path curving back toward civilization. Percival locked up his foot brake, skidding to a halt. Violet did the same. “Is this it?”
Percival pointed into the woods. “About fifteen minutes that way.”
Violet dropped her bike and retied one of her shoes for comfort. “All right, let’s do it.” She raised her hand. Percival dropped his bike sideways on the ground and gave her the high-five. He adjusted his knapsack and started off through the trees. Violet eagerly followed.
By the time Percival and Violet came near to the clearing of trees, the sun had almost dipped below the mountains. Violet pointed through the woods. “Is that the house?”
Percival followed her finger. There, beyond the ring of trees, sat the dilapidated old house with its woefully faded paint, rotted wood, broken windows, rusty gate and overgrown yard—a yard with zombies lying beneath the surface. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said.
Percival noticed sweat beading up on his face. His hands trembled. He wasn’t sure if it was fear, or excitement. Either way, Violet trekked on ahead. “Come on, big guy!” He couldn’t turn back now.
They came to the ring of trees. Violet started to break the boundary and go on through into the yard. Percival grabbed her arm before she made it. “Hold on, Violet.”
“What? I thought you wanted to check this place out.”
Percival wiped sweat from his upper lip. “I do, but—”
Violet looked at the house in the fading light. “So what’s the big deal, Percival. It’s just an old run down house way out in the woods. There probably used to be a town out here a long time ago.”
Percival was still holding her arm. “No, there wasn’t a town…I checked that last night on the web.” He looked back at the house. Adrenaline coursed through Percival
’s veins. “I haven’t told you how I found this place, yet, or what I saw yesterday.”
“So, spill it,” she demanded.
Percival recounted his intrepid jaunt through the woods, following a bank robber who had been pursued by the police, until his car crashed in the woods. “Where’s the car?” Violet asked.
Percival hadn’t actually thought about bringing Violet to see the car first. That might have made his story a bit more credible. “I’ll show you on the way back, if you like. Now, do you want to hear this, or not?”
Violet rolled her eyes, waving him on. Percival told her how he had watched from this line of trees as the bank robber walked on toward the house. He told her about the freak weather, the zombies and the robber’s disappearance inside the house while the zombies remained outside pressed against the windows. “A few moments later, I heard the guy scream bloody murder then everything went back to the way it is now.”
Violet looked at him like he had a third eye stuck in the middle of his forehead. She blew a bubble and popped it. “Yeah, right. You know the Bible says, Thou shalt not bear false witness,” Percival. I know who’s gonna be on the altar in the morning.”
Percival stared into her eyes, grabbing her shoulders—a move that usually got boys kicked into soprano choirs. “I’m not lying, Violet…and I’m not crazy either.”
Violet glanced at his hands on her shoulders then studied his face. “Are you trying to kiss me, Percival? Cause if you are—” she giggled at him.
Percival dropped his gaze and his hands, exasperated. “All right, I’m just going to have to prove it to you.” Percival stepped into the clearing, taking cautious steps. He watched the house. Violet watched him, rolling her eyes. “Well? Is that it?”
Violet ran past him into the clearing toward the house. She leaped about, laughing. “Woo! The monsters are gonna get me! Help me, Percival! Save me!”
“Violet, stop! What are you doing?” He ran after her. She twirled around, laughing the entire time. Percival caught her, grabbing her arm. “Stop it, Violet!”
She stopped, standing still next to the old wrought iron fence. “What? I’m just looking at your house, Percival. You don’t have to get all freaked out. I was just playing around with you.” She tried to catch her breath after dancing around. “So where are your monsters, huh?”
Percival looked everywhere for some evidence of what he had witnessed before. The house and clearing remained undisturbed. “I don’t understand it.”
Violet patted him on the shoulder. “Look, Percival, this has been great and all, but it’s getting dark. If there’s nothing else to see—”
The house exploded behind her. Pieces of boards, old shingles and dirty glass shot upward and outward in every direction. Violet screamed. Percival watched in stunned amazement as a huge reptilian head erupted through the roof near the front door of the manor house.
Percival tried to scream, but no sound would come out. The beast howled. Front and hind legs shot out the sides of the house. A massive tail, like a cedar tree, blasted out the back. Percival grabbed Violet’s hand. “Run!”
The lizard shook itself violently, and the rest of the manor house crumbled away into a pile of smoldering debris. Percival looked back, seeing the huge tail swing through the air toward them. He grabbed Violet around the shoulders, shoving her to the ground. “Look out!”
The tail raked across the boundary line of trees, over their heads. Some splintered and fell, while others bent over then sprang back in the other direction, crashing into one another in a cacophony of destruction. Percival jerked Violet up again then broke into a sprint for the forest.
The great lizard hissed at them then sprang toward them. Percival and Violet clamored over broken trees, through splintered branches and hit the ground running again. The beast smashed into the trees behind them with its slender head. It shot through the standing trees, but got hung by its shoulders.
Percival looked back as they ran. The lizard’s mouth opened, revealing pink flesh inside. A great whip of a tongue lashed out toward them. Percival grabbed Violet’s arm, pulling her out of the way as the tongue snatched undergrowth from where she’d been standing, pulling it back to its mouth.
The beast raged against the trees that were still holding it back, but it managed to come no further. Percival looked back one last time as they gained a safer distance. He saw the house begin to reassemble itself. Splintered boards, broken glass and bricks from the chimney all rose again, like a video in reverse, erecting the old manor house again.
MISSING
Percival and Violet arrived back in their own neighborhood nearly an hour later. They were dirty, sweaty and panting like Olympic track runners, but they had made it in one piece. Percival said goodnight to Violet, but she gave him a big hug instead. “Thanks for saving my life back there,” she said.
She ran down to her house, up into the driveway, giving him a quick wave before going inside. Percival just stood there for a moment, taking in the hug, her smell, thinking wow. More and more, he thought of Violet as an actual girl and not just his best friend in the whole world. This unnerved him a bit—in a good way, he thought.
When Percival went inside, he found his mother and father waiting up for him. They questioned where he’d been and scolded him for getting Violet home late. They even discussed a possible grounding. Percival remained lost in the hug Violet had given him. Even the giant lizard couldn’t hold a candle to that moment.
Percival went upstairs, after a good talking to, and put his bed clothes on. He brushed his teeth with a grin on his face then went to bed. When he turned out the light, he stared at the ceiling, praying for a little while. The mysterious house remained…and a new mysterious something with his friend had just begun.
Eventually, he dozed off and had a peaceful sleep.
The next day at school, Percival looked for Violet at the bus stop. She didn’t ride that morning. Percival knew that she sometimes had her mother drive her to school, especially if she wasn’t feeling well. He surmised that must be the case after last nights incredible drama.
When Violet didn’t arrive in their third period class, Percival became a little concerned. Lunch also failed to produce his friend, and none of her other friends had a clue why she wasn’t in school. Percival shrugged it off.
When Percival stepped off the bus that evening, he had every intention of going to Violet’s house to see if she had been feeling sick. He found several police cruisers already sitting in the driveway of her home. Mrs. Charms stood in the front yard giving detailed information to one of the officers.
Percival ran toward the house, fearing something had happened to his friend. When Mrs. Charms noticed him, she waved him over. Percival shot through the yard, all the while looking around for any sign of Violet. “Is Violet at home, Mrs. Charms?”
Mrs. Charms was on the verge of tears. She had obviously been crying for some time already. “Oh, Percival, she’s missing. When I went in to get her up for school, she wasn’t there. My husband has gone out looking for her, but there’s no sign of her yet. Has she called you, or told you anything at all? If she’s run away, don’t you dare cover for her. We’ve got to find her.”
Percival tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I haven’t seen her, Mrs. Charms. I figured she must have gotten sick or something when she didn’t show up for school.” Percival felt like panicking, but Mrs. Charms broke down first, and he tried to console her. “We’ll find her, Mrs. Charms. I’ll get on my bike and search everywhere I can for her.”
Percival ran back to his house, passing his mother on her way down to the Charms’ home. “Did she tell you what’s happened to Violet?”
“Yes,” Percival called back. “I’m going out to look for her right now.” Percival didn’t stop. He ran through his yard and got his bike. He jumped on the seat and tore off down the street. Percival had no idea where to even look. He only knew he had to find her.
Percival s
pent the next three hours pedaling all over their small town, looking for his best friend, but couldn’t find a trace of her. He talked to mutual friends. They knew nothing. He went to all of their secret hang-out spots—nothing.
When he finally arrived back home, the police cruisers were gone, but Violet had still not come home or been located. Percival and his parents ate their meal with very little conversation that evening. His father had included a special prayer for Violet’s safe return when they asked for the Lord’s blessing on their meal.
Percival worried as he brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas. He worried when he got into bed. Percival’s mother talked on the phone with one of the neighbors about Violet’s disappearance for a good hour before finally hanging up and going to bed.
Percival laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He prayed for his friend. Where could she have gone? He only hoped that wherever she was tonight, she was safe. Foreboding lay in bed with him until he finally fell asleep in its embrace.
That night Percival dreamed in such vivid detail he truly had no idea if he was actually awake, or not.
He flew through the trees of the forest in the dusky light. His body soared on a predetermined course, over which he had no control. After a few moments, he arrived at the edge of the tree-line boundary surrounding the old manor house.
Percival stared at the house. It stood perfectly reconstructed, despite all of the calamity during their previous day’s visit. Not a board seemed out of place, nor a window broken that had not been broken before the great lizard smashed through, nearly killing him and Violet.
While Percival watched, the front door of the manor opened slowly. The door squeaked and squealed, in need of lubrication. It revealed a blue light emanating from within a fine mist. Violet stood within the doorway, the mist rolling around her. She wore a white cotton dress and her hair was up in bouncy curls—all of which was very out of character for Violet. She looked positively…feminine.
Percival couldn’t take his eyes off her. He called out to Violet and tried to run toward her, but every step seemed mired in quicksand. As Violet noticed him, she waved, calling to him. She seemed happy to see him.
Then something drew her back within the glowing blue mist, away from the doorway. Violet tried to resist, but it took her anyway. She cried out to Percival, reaching out to him for help, but he couldn’t seem to get to her. She disappeared within the bluish fog, and the front door of the manor house slammed shut with a bang, waking him.
Percival jerked upright in his bed with Violet’s name on his lips. He looked around, trying to locate the surroundings in his dream. He mumbled to himself. “Only a dream.” It simply wasn’t possible. The dream had been only that—a dream and nothing more. Still, it nagged at him. What if—”
Percival dismissed his crazy notions and laid back down. He pulled his warm covers up to his chin, waiting for sleep to come again. He didn’t dream about the house after that. He didn’t dream about anything.
The next day, Violet remained missing. The Police had no definite leads to go on. An Amber Alert went out online and on the local news stations. Percival’s time in school went by much too slowly. He had to get back out there, looking for Violet.
When Percival arrived at home again that afternoon, he got his bike and went out. Once again, he found no trace of the girl. But a thought nagged Percival all day. He refused to entertain it or even think about it.
Again, his family ate in morbid silence. And again, Percival worried his way through his nightly routine. When he got in bed and prayed, he asked that Violet’s location be revealed to him in the name of Jesus. He settled in to sleep, hoping for dreams that might give him insight into the situation.
As he had the night before, Percival dreamed of flying through the woods toward the old manor house. When he arrived at the clearing, the front door opened. The same blue mist billowed out over the threshold. Violet, once again, stood within the house’s wispy glowing breath.
As before, she reached out to him—this time making contact. Percival tried to keep his grip on her as the house pulled her back inside. Violet’s fingernails bit into the flesh of his forearms. He winced as she was pulled away, the door slamming shut in his face.
Percival jerked upright in his bed. Sweat stood on his brow and upper lip in fine beads. His heart raced. His breathing came in gulps. He thought about what he’d seen. Could it be possible? Could Violet actually be confined within the old manor house in the woods?
Percival rubbed the skin on his arms absentmindedly. The flesh burned. He noticed stains on his fingertips. Percival turned on his bedside lamp, looking down at his forearms. The flesh had been clawed. Tiny droplets of blood oozed to the surface along the gouges.
His eyes grew as wide as saucers. Somehow, in some way, Violet had made contact with him. The house was holding her captive. Percival knew now what he had to do.
RESCUE
Percival waited until the next morning to put his plan into action. His school backpack had been prepared for a rescue effort rather than academia. Percival took his bike that morning instead of riding the bus. He rode off at the appropriate time for school, but headed straight for the old manor house in the woods.
It was nearly nine o’clock, by the time Percival found himself standing at the edge of the trees encircling the house. As he had expected, any evidence of the giant lizard, which had attacked him and Violet a few nights ago, had vanished. The house now appeared as it had every other time he had come to view it.
The sun had not yet burned away the early morning dew, and hazy moisture still hung in the air. Percival noticed that the sounds of nature, which he had only observed in passing on his way, had now retreated. No other living creature stirred.
Percival began to wonder if this was a very good idea. After all, it had only been a dream. Surely, Violet had not been kidnapped by an old house in the woods. Still, unbelievable things had already happened by the bucket-load in connection with this place.
Percival remembered how many times Violet had come to his aid when he had needed her. His guilt prodded him until he mustered his courage. For Violet.
Percival pulled his flashlight, with its heavy metal casing, from his backpack along with one of his dad’s old hunting knives—found sitting upon an old shelf in their garage. The blade looked like something Rambo might carry with its serrated top edge and compass seated in the end of the pommel.
He took a single step into the clearing and stopped. Leaves rustled above him. Percival only had time to look up before something swatted him hard from behind, on his behind. He tumbled head over heels into the clearing, trying not to clobber himself with the heavy flashlight or stab himself with the hunting knife.
Percival landed nearly fifty feet away from where he had been. He tried to stand, but staggered instead, coming up with both flashlight and knife in hand. He spit grass, dirt and leaves out of his mouth, searching for the edge of the clearing and his attacker.
The tree, he had been standing next to, waved its branches furiously like arms. The bark ten feet up the trunk split open in a pumpkin’s smile, laughing maniacally at him. Within seconds, one tree after another around the entire boundary took up the same mocking—some pointing branches at him as though he was the most laughable thing they’d ever seen.
Percival almost expected the trees to uproot themselves and come after him, but they remained where they had been planted, giggling and forbidding him to leave the clearing. This was it. He’d been herded into the trap. All that remained was for it to snap shut upon him.
He turned around to see if anything had changed with the house. He surveyed the tree in the yard. Old rags swayed from the bare branches, but nothing more. The weather was calm, and the sunlight remained.
Percival stared at the yard, wondering how long it would take for the zombies to erupt from the ground and drag him down into their graves. But nothing stirred at all…until his eyes moved to the house itself.
The fron
t door caught his attention. It had begun to open—slowly. An unnaturally loud squeaking of the hinges accompanied the eerie sight. Percival tried to gulp down the gathering lump in his throat with little success.
The door opened all the way, then stopped. There was no wind and no one visible in the doorway to account for it having opened. It just had. Percival stood there staring into the house, hoping to see Violet come to the door; or better, run out of the house. However, she did not appear, and Percival found he could not see into the house at all from where he stood.
He stepped closer, edging toward the gate. Just before Percival could lay his fingers upon the wrought iron, the gate opened of its own accord. Percival recoiled from it as though a snake had struck at him. He gripped his knife tighter and his flashlight with the other hand.
The stone path lay before him and, to each side, the yard. Percival recalled the partially decomposed bodies which had burst out of the ground when the bank robber had made his way down this same path. The trees barred his escape, and the door stood open before him. Clearly, he was meant to go inside.
Percival took cautious steps through the gate. Nothing jumped out at him from the ground. Everything remained as it was. He continued down the path toward the house. Every footfall felt a new shiver of fear run up and down his spine.
Percival reached the end of the path, and still nothing more out of the ordinary had happened. He turned to look back at the trees. They had all, seemingly, returned to normal—straight and tall, reaching for the sun.
At this point though, vines began to curl out of the ground around the fence. The chutes wound around the wrought iron, continuing up, becoming thick at the bases. Thorns sprang from the vines as thick and long as nails. When the thorny vines had reached a height of nearly ten feet, they stopped growing.
Percival found himself sealed within the yard by this sudden prison of briars. He thought about testing them, but it looked insurmountable. He wouldn’t be leaving that way.
He turned back to the porch and the open front door before him. The chipped stone gargoyles sitting to either side of the steps seemed to be wearing smiles upon their weathered faces. This house was mocking him, letting him know it was in control of the situation.
Percival pressed on. Better to be done with it and do what could be done for his best friend. He stepped up onto the porch with fixed resolve. He paused at the door, taking a cursory look inside, but he still couldn’t see anything clearly.
He breathed a final deep breath and stepped over the threshold.
INNER SANCTUM
Once he had gone inside the house the door creaked and moaned, slowly closing behind him. Percival did not bother to fight its closure. He had come inside to get Violet, and he had no intention of leaving without her—no matter what that meant.
The door shut with a heart-wrenching clack. Now, he was definitely trapped—no going back. Percival tried to calm his speeding heart, breathing deeply. He flicked the flashlight a couple of times before realizing he must of busted the bulb when the maniacal tree had swatted him into the clearing. “Great, just great,” he complained.
He began praying under his breath, hoping it wasn’t the Lord’s will to end him in this crazy place. From a biblical standpoint, he wondered how this house even existed. Zombies just didn’t exist in the real world. Neither did everything else he had experienced in connection with this house.
Several candelabras lit themselves in succession around the main room where he stood. Flames rose slowly and steadily from four candles upon each, as though someone were operating their fire on a dimmer switch. The candelabras added a sheen of yellow-orange to the musty room as well as many shadows.
Wisps of cottony cobweb hung everywhere, and the whole house sat covered in a thick coating of dust. Upon the walls, flower-pattern wallpaper peeled in tattered strips. In some places, dark splatters and smears stained the walls, forcing Percival to wonder if it might be blood.
He decided not to dwell upon it. He had to find Violet. “Is anyone here?” he called, almost hoping no one would answer him. Percival sighed. “Of course someone is here…someone is controlling all these things.”
Percival heard only the creaking of an old house—at first. “Violet! Where are you?” he called again.
Clanking came from somewhere on the floor above him, like chains dragged down a hallway. Insane laughter suddenly resounded throughout the house. It seemed to come from every direction at once. Percival spun around, searching for the source.
“Violet, where are you?” the squealing voice of the house mocked him. “I’m afraid, Violet. Please help me!”
“Stop it!” Percival screamed. He was terrified, but his anger was quickly catching up to his fear. “Show me where Violet is!” He picked up one of the candelabras. “Show me where she is, or I’ll burn this house down!”
The candles on the candelabra erupted into jets of flame reaching nearly to the ceiling. Percival dropped it on the floor immediately. The flames receded, and more laughter filtered throughout the house. “Ah, ah, ah. Mustn’t play with fire, little boy,” the house scolded.
Percival picked the candelabra back up. He needed light and was getting tired of these obvious games. “Where’s Violet?!”
“Percival! I’m here!”
Percival turned to find Violet standing on the dilapidated staircase behind him. Violet looked beautiful in a white summer dress, sporting little flowers throughout her hair. Was that a touch of makeup she was wearing? Percival stood there stunned as she smiled at him.
“Thank goodness you came for me, Percival!” She ran down the last few steps in her bare feet, crossing the room to embrace him. Percival could only return her affection, remembering the wonderful hug she had given him two nights before—the first time he’d saved her.
He closed his eyes, sighing with relief.
“Percival?”
He opened his eyes and turned toward the voice. It was Violet again, but now on the other side of the main room, looking at him from an open doorway.
Percival looked back at the Violet hugging him and found her dissolving in his arms. “Ah!” Her body had become thousands upon thousands of creepy crawling insects. The bugs heaved up and over him like a putrid wave.
He jumped back, shaking himself like mad to get them off. It wasn’t that Percival was afraid of bugs—not at all—but he hated anything in connection with this house!
He shook himself, swatting until most of them had hit the floor and scattered into dark crevasses all around the room. Percival looked up at the other Violet in time to see her give him a mean look and slam the door.
Percival crossed the room with the candelabra in one hand and his hunting knife in the other. “Violet, wait!” He grabbed the door, opened it then followed her through.
Percival didn’t see her now. She had vanished. What’s more, this room looked exactly like the main room he had just come from. He turned around, finding only a blank wall with peeling flower-design wallpaper. The house is toying with me.
He had walked back into the main room. His flashlight sat on the table where he had picked up the candelabra. The stairs where Violet had appeared stood on the far side of the room. Laughter erupted again from everywhere and nowhere. The whole house shuddered, causing Percival to nearly lose his balance.
Percival heard a wet slapping on the windows and pounding at the door. He looked and saw horrid faces pressed against the glass, peering inside, searching for him. Their muddy hands smeared the windows. But none of the zombies came through the door.
He decided he’d had enough. Clearly, whomever or whatever was in control here could have killed him already had they really wanted to. Percival set the candelabra down upon an end table next to the moldy couch, with its shredded cushions, and waited. “What do you want from me?” he shouted.
The noise continued unabated—now all of them occurring at once. He heard Violet calling from several different directions, chains dragging upstairs,
zombies clawing at the door and the omnipresent laughter. Objects began to fly around the room—tables, lamps, lit candles and more. But Percival simply waited. “You’re wasting my time and yours! Either give me Violet, or tell me what you want from me!” It seemed the logical thing to do…getting straight to the point of the matter.
Then, just as quickly as the cacophony had begun, it all stopped. The laughter ceased, the visions of Violet flitting about the dark corners of the house faded, and the zombies even stood up, shrugging their shoulders at one another, confused. After all, the boy was supposed to be terrified. So, why wasn’t he?
Percival watched the change, curiously. It seemed he had turned the tables on his tormentors, if only for a moment. The manor house grew strangely quiet. And then…tap, tap.
Percival turned on the hand tapping his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what would be standing there, but what he found surprised him. An old man wearing a dingy white button-up shirt and stained dark trousers held up by suspenders stood there with a morbid look on his face. “Hello, Percival. We’ve been expecting you.”
Percival stood there looking queerly at the little man, who actually matched his own height almost perfectly. “You’re not a zombie?”
The little old man shot Percival a wounded look. “Me? A zombie? Just how low on the totem pole do you think I am, boy?”
“Hey, we heard that!” came a shout from the porch where the zombies were still peering inside.
The old man waved them off before turning back to Percival. “You shouldn’t have come here, boy.”
Percival, perturbed, tapped the man’s chest with the tip of his knife blade. “You and this house brought me here.”
“I mean you shouldn’t have come spying in these woods in the first place.” He looked down at Percival’s knife. “You really shouldn’t play with snakes, either.”
Percival looked down at the knife, only to find it had become a python coiling up his arm. The old man looked into Percival’s eyes, perhaps expecting him to scream, but he didn’t “I happen to like snakes, mister—?”
Frowning, the old man said, “Mr. Lonely…and this is the Lonely Manor.”
Percival tossed the snake on the couch. “This is your house?”
“In a way, I suppose you could say that,” Mr. Lonely said.
“Well, if you didn’t want me to come snooping around then why did you take Violet?” Percival asked.
Mr. Lonely seemed to be sizing him up. “I suppose we wanted to see if you would actually come after her, but you needn’t worry about the girl for the moment. She’s safe enough.”
Now Percival’s curiosity piqued. “So this was a test of some kind?”
Mr. Lonely grinned. “Oh, the test is still to come. And if you pass then you will get the girl back unharmed.”
Percival felt sweat beading on his upper lip and around his neck. “And if I don’t?”
Mr. Lonely looked toward the door and the peering hungry zombies. He grinned at Percival. “We really don’t want to think about that, now do we?”
A PROPOSAL
Mr. Lonely carried one of the candelabras, leading Percival up the large partially dilapidated staircase toward the second floor. Percival followed after, feeling more confident there was no immediate danger, but wondering if something far worse didn’t lie ahead.
Percival brushed the dense cobwebs aside, following Mr. Lonely onto the second floor landing. An extremely long hallway stretched out before them with many doors intersecting along the way. It looked like it might extend as far as half a football field in length—much too far to be sitting inside this house.
Mr. Lonely noticed his bewilderment. “Perceptions cannot always be trusted, Percival. You must learn that if you’re ever to face what lies ahead.”
“What lies ahead?” Percival asked.
“Danger, the likes of which you’ve never known,” Mr. Lonely said bluntly.
Percival looked at Mr. Lonely as though he was crazy if he thought to send him into dangers untold and unnumbered.
Mr. Lonely frowned. “Surely, your friend, Violet, is worth that much. Hmm?”
Percival considered it. She certainly is. He motioned down the hallway. “Lead on, Mr. Lonely.”
Mr. Lonely grinned and continued down the corridor. A finely crafted rug ran the length, though it was soiled with dust and mildew. In fact, the entire Lonely Manor was furnished eloquently, but everything was very old and decayed. Oil paintings hung at regular intervals along the wall. The eyes of the painted figures seemed to glare at Percival as he passed. He thought he noticed movement, but saw nothing upon closer inspection.
A great mirror hung on the wall at the end of the corridor. Its tarnished gilded frame played host to many cobwebs drifting across its surface. As they drew nearer, Percival noticed Mr. Lonely casting no reflection in the mirror. Only Percival walked the hallway reflected in the looking glass.
Percival expected Mr. Lonely to open one of the last two doors and go through. Instead, the old man looked back at Percival and said, “Follow me.” He then stepped directly into the mirror. Its surface shimmered like stagnant water disturbed. Ripples traveled across the glass, disappearing into the gilded frame.
Mr. Lonely dissolved into the glass. There was nothing left of him at all. Percival looked around. “This is the craziest house I’ve ever seen.” He mustered his courage. “For Violet.” Apprehensively, Percival stepped through the glass. It allowed him to pass through, and immediately he found Mr. Lonely waiting on the other side in a high domed room.
Candles shone from wall mounts all around the chamber. It was excessively bright in comparison with the rest of the house. Percival also noticed that the room, with its fine Victorian era decorations, was impeccably clean. It could have hosted a ball at that very moment. The wooden floor gleamed under their feet, casting his reflection back from its mirror finish. He and Mr. Lonely seemed terribly out of place in this setting.
Percival noticed no other way out of the room except for the way they had come by. In fact, when he looked back to the looking glass, he noticed others all around the room just like it in appearance—eight in all. “Do all of these mirrors go places?” Percival asked.
“As a matter of fact, they do,” Mr. Lonely said. “These looking glasses lead to seven Imaginative Worlds. You must face a dangerous trial in one of them. Once you have completed the test, we will return your friend to you.”
Percival looked at the mirrors. Nothing about their appearance betrayed other worlds hidden behind them. “That’s all there is to it?”
Mr. Lonely chuckled to himself. “That and the fact that the inhabitants of these worlds will certainly try to destroy you.”
“Don’t you think the deck is a bit stacked against me?” Percival asked. “I’m just a teenager.”
“I never said it would be easy. In fact, you’re not the first sent to try,” Mr. Lonely said.
“What happened to the others?” Percival asked. “Did they fail?”
“They never returned,” Mr. Lonely said.
Percival looked puzzled. “This room doesn’t look like any other part of the house. Why?”
Mr. Lonely looked around wistfully. “This is a special place, but none of that matters right now. Do you accept my offer, or not?”
Percival’s face grew hard. “It doesn’t sound like much of an offer to me. Why don’t I just tell the police about your little house in the woods and how you kidnap kids to hold them for ransom. How would you like to have every cop in the state crawling all over this place?” Percival threatened. He knew his ploy was probably foolish, but he had grown tired of the old man pushing him around and his threats to keep Violet a prisoner in this house.
Mr. Lonely turned on him, anger and frustration written on his gaunt face. “I should have known you’d be stubborn about this. I suppose you’ll just need time to think it over.”
Percival began to protest, but Mr. Lonely cut him off. He waved a boney hand as though dismissi
ng the help. Instantly, the finely laid floorboards split under Percival’s feet—the long boards raising up so that he stumbled backward. The boards popped up after him, following his regression across the floor until the last two under his feet sent him flying backward through one of the ornate mirrors.
Percival fell through the shimmering portal, passed through a wall of clothing and landed upon the floor. Wire hangers spilled around him. When Percival sat up, he realized he had passed through his closet and was now back inside his own bedroom.
BIZARRO TOWN
Mrs. Lonely appeared inside the Looking Glass Chamber beside Mr. Lonely. “Oh, dear, do you suppose you were too rough on him?”
Mr. Lonely turned to his wife. “Ah, he’ll be all right. What about the girl?”
“Oh, she’s tucked away safely. I don’t think she’ll give us any problems now.” She looked wistfully toward the looking glass where Percival had just passed through. “I do hope he comes back.”
Mr. Lonely smiled at his wife—her once black eyes now blue. “My dear, where else can he possibly go?”
