A short story by Sir M.J. Wasik
In the ancient city of Snafu, in the rich parish of Sigan, sits an estate that was once the envy of all its neighbors on Dog Star Drive. Now, it sits a ruin, a blight upon the otherwise pristine neighborhood. No one knows what happened to its original owners, but rumor has it that it was murder. And with all such abandoned houses, it was rumored to be haunted. But that did not deter the Three Goblin Company, as they had heard it all before. They had repaired and resold a dozen haunted houses, all without any major incident. After all, dealing with the ghost was just a matter of finding out how to release them from what ever had them trapped, And this estate was promising to give major profit, even if there is a ghost, as the authorities declared that it belongs to anyone who is willing to fix it up. Which is what the Three Goblin company does, though ironically, they no longer had any Goblins as a part of it.
And so, through the corroded iron gates of the forsaken estate, the group of fortune seekers stepped, their hearts thrumming with equal measures of greed and trepidation. Twisted metal screeched a haunting dirge as they pushed past, the sound echoing through the skeletal trees that lined the path like ghostly sentinels. Nature had reclaimed what humanity had once tamed; vines strangled pillars, weeds choked the life from the flower beds, and the untamed grass clawed at the edges of the crumbling pathway.
“Looks like no one’s pruned these hedges in a century,” muttered Cammy, her eyes scanning the wild overgrowth, searching for hidden threats.
“Or trimmed the shadows,” added Jax, resting one hand on the hilt of his rapier and the other on his pistol. He was most sensitive to the vibrations of a place, and so the most wary of the darkness that clung to the estate like a second skin.
The decrepit mansion loomed before them, its windows like hollow eyes, its grandeur suffocated under a blanket of neglect. They were here because whispers and rumors had spread across the town like a sinister breeze. The local authority had declared that the estate would belong to anyone brave or foolish enough to restore it to its former glory. It was a tempting prize, and it was clearly better than rooting out dire rats and rabid goblins from the basements of houses that barely turned a profit.
“Remember the tales,” said Elara, her voice low, yet cutting through the silence like a blade. “The last souls who tried to claim this place… they lost themselves to it, minds unraveled by whatever dwells within.”
“And those before them?” Jax asked, though he knew the answer.
“Vanished,” she replied, “swallowed by the house, leaving not a trace behind.”
“Let’s just keep our wits about us,” Cammy urged, her noble heart aching with sympathy for those lost spirits, but she was also the practical one. “We found no one who knew the people that lived here before, nor anyone who was eyewitness to the fates of those who tried to claim it before us. As far as we know, the only thing the house hungers for is repairs.”
As they stepped onto the once-grand estate, each felt the weight of unseen years upon the house, and the air thick with the scent of decaying vegetation and ancient secrets. The adventure had truly begun, and the shadows danced with malevolent anticipation. And Jax new something was wrong, but could not give it a name, nor find any sign of a ghost.
Elara’s hand skimmed the crumbling balustrade as she ascended the grand staircase, her fingertips disturbing years of dust and cobwebs. The wood groaned beneath her weight, the creaks and moans spoke of decay and neglect. Each step they took into the mansion revealed more of its desperate need for repair. Plaster crumbled from the walls like dead skin, the once-opulent tapestries were moth-eaten relics, and the air was thick with the mustiness of abandonment.
Jax pried open a swollen door, its hinges protesting with a screech that echoed through the desolate corridors. “This place is a tomb,” he muttered, eyeing the vast library where books lay strewn across the floor, their spines broken, their knowledge absorbed by the mildew that stuck the pages together.
“Well, that is why we are here. To bring it back to life,” Cammy said with determination, rolling up her sleeves. She began organizing the scattered volumes, a reverence in her touch for the old books that were salvageable. “It is time to call in the others.”
Over the week, they worked tirelessly. Elara stitched together tears in the upholstery and curtains with the precision of a surgeon, her hands weaving new narratives into the fabric of the house. Jax focused on repairing places in the frame where the termites had their fun and carving runes of protection in the wood, bolstering the sagging bones of the structure. Dutton would spend his time sanding the floor for staining, spouting profanities the whole time either from the splinters or from it taking longer than he thought it should. Kayce and Emelia started by patching the roof, and then progressed to pulling the weeds that was clogging the fountains in the yard. Meanwhile, Cammy tended to the shattered windows, replacing pane after pane, allowing light to pierce the gloom that had settled like an unwelcome guest.
As darkness draped itself over the world on the eighth day, the groups gathered in one of the living rooms, their bodies weary but in high spirits. The repairs were progressing slow but well and it was already starting to look like they were making a difference. They had just cleaned out the chimney and so a fire crackled in the hearth as a celebration. It casting flickering shadows upon the walls that seemed to writhe and twist in a macabre dance. It was here, in the heart of their reclaimed fortress, and at that moment, when the laughter of the group was the loudest, that the boundaries between realities thinned.
Without warning, the plaster of the living room wall trembled. From within its cracked surface, a head emerged, its features achingly beautiful, ethereal in their perfection. Skin like moonlight, eyes that shimmered with an otherworldly luster, lips that whispered of eternal pleasures. It was beauty that ensnared the senses, yet beneath it lurked an unsettling dissonance for the experienced adventure. A beauty too perfect is a warning of peril.
“Such loveliness should not be possible,” Elara breathed, her instincts screaming that such allure would not be crafted without purpose.
“I sense no ill will but beauty can be a mask,” Jax murmured, his gaze never leaving the apparition. “A distraction from the fangs that lie beneath.”
“Or a lure,” Cammy added, voicing her own suspicion. She approached, but with cautious steps, as if aware that every inch closer to the spectral visage brought her closer to some unfathomable abyss.
The head remained suspended in the wall, its expression serene yet sorrowful, as though it mourned for them and the fate they had yet to comprehend. The firelight danced in its eyes, casting reflections that seemed almost pleading, beckoning them deeper into the mystery that shrouded the cursed estate. It was a beauty that demanded attention, one that could not be ignored, and yet, it instilled a wariness within them, their experience-trained intuition whispered of danger lurking beneath the veneer of splendor.
The head’s voice wove through the stillness of the room, a chilling symphony that set their nerves on edge. “You must leave this place,” it intoned, its ethereal beauty a stark contrast to the gravity of its warning. “You are in danger here, danger far greater than rotting timbers and crumbling stone.”
“Who are you?” Elara demanded, her heart hammering against her ribs, each beat echoing the dread that pooled in her stomach.
“Once, I was Kuomi. A child of this house,” the head replied, its voice a lamentation that seemed to bleed through the very walls. “A child who played in these halls, innocent to the darkness my parents invited into our home.”
“Darkness?” Jax’s hand tightened around the handle of his pistol, a futile gesture of defense against the unseen.
“Evil magic,” the head clarified, and the words hung in the air like a curse. “They delved into forbidden arts, seeking power and knowledge that mortals are never meant to hold.” Shadows clung to its features as it spoke, a visual echo of the sinister tale it wove. “My parents’ ambition knew no bounds, and they paid a terrible price for their pride.”
“Paid how?” Cammy’s question was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of impending doom.
“By sacrificing their souls,” the head responded, its haunting gaze piercing through them. “And ultimately, their own flesh and blood.”
The air seemed to thicken as the head continued its harrowing tale, each word weaving a tapestry of dread that enveloped the group. “They sought audiences with beings beyond our comprehension,” it said, its voice resonating with the echoes of ancient evils. “Demons, devils, what ever you may call the entities shrouded in the malevolence collected over a thousand lifetimes. My parents bartered with them, trading their souls for secrets soaked in sin.”
Elara’s gaze was locked onto the apparition, her thoughts racing with the horrific implications. The house itself felt alive with a malignant presence, as if watching and waiting with bated breath.
“Power, they craved. Wealth, they sought. And all the while, they fed this cursed abode with offerings most foul.” The spectral visage’s eyes shimmered with a sorrow that transcended time. “Sacrifices to sustain the dark pacts. On every seventh moon, a soul must be unto the house in a ritual to appease the hunger that gnaws at its foundations.”
“I can feel the hunger even now. But strangers?” Jax croaked, his throat dry, his grip on the hammer now slicks with sweat.
“Yes, strangers at first,” the head acknowledged, the air around it seeming to ripple with unseen forces. “Travelers lured by false promises, ensnared by spells woven into the very soil of this place.”
Cammy’s hand went instinctively to her heart, a futile attempt to calm its frantic rhythm. “And then? When the danger was too great to grab another stranger?”
“Then came the ultimate betrayal,” the disembodied head murmured, its words a dirge for the damned. “Their own kin. Their nephews and nieces, and then their own children, one by one, disappeared mysteriously. Though it is no mystery to us, we became sustenance for the evil power they had nurtured within these walls.”
A suffocating silence fell upon the room, broken only by the distant sound of something stirring in the shadows, probably a rat but also reminder that the past never truly rests in a house stained by such vile transactions. Cammy’s chest tightened, a visceral reaction to the sorrow-laden tale; the very atmosphere seemed to weep with the weight of countless tragedies absorbed into the walls of this accursed sanctuary.
“Such malevolence,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath stolen by the shadows that danced along the edges of their lantern light. “To use one’s own blood… how does such evil not consume itself?”
“Evil begets evil,” muttered Kayce, his usually stony demeanor fractured by the revelation. He had been a soldier in the Xanta Crusade, but some things can still phase him. “It festers, grows, seeks out the warmth of life to extinguish.”
Their gazes were drawn inexorably back to the head, its beauty marred only by the depth of sorrow in its ethereal eyes. The pain it had witnessed, the horrors it had endured, resonated within each of them, a shared agony that transcended mere empathy. The felt the pain of it in their bones, as if they too had lived it. The pain almost unbearable.
“Is there no end to your suffering?” Cammy’s question was directed at the spectral visage, but it echoed the silent plea in all their hearts.
“An end?” The head’s laugh was hollow, devoid of mirth. “This house is a prison forged by blood and dark pacts. To leave would mean one would have unravel the very fabric of what traps me here. The risk is too great. “
“We will break your bonds,” Cammy declared, her determination a stark contrast to the despair that had gripped the room. And all knew that when Cammy got like this the rest had little choice but to see it to the end. No shortcuts for Cammy when they were dealing with ghosts. “Tell us how. There must be something we can do.”
“I am an internal child but you are the one that is foolish,” the head sighed. “Your heart is pure, and your compassion great but the risk… you cannot fathom the dangers that lurk on this side of the veil, or what risk it might expose you to.”
“Help us understand,” Cammy pressed, stepping closer to the wall from which the apparition emerged. “We will not abandon you to this fate.”
“Abandonment…” the head trailed off, as if the word conjured memories too painful to bear. “Very well, there is but one way that I know of. To show an act of compassion, void of guile, one conceived in innocence but perilous all the same.”
“Speak it,” urged Cammy, her resolve unshaken.
“Wipe away my tears and give me a kiss of comfort upon my brow. One like my parents should have given me instead of using my torment to trap me here.” The head divulged, its tone becoming hesitant, “if it is delivered freely and in innocence the curse might lift and break the chains that bind me. At least that is what I believe from the taunts of those that dwell on the dark side of the wall.”
“Then I shall give it,” Cammy said without hesitation, her noble spirit shining through the gloom like a beacon.
“Cammy, consider what you’re…” Kayce began, but she cut him off with a determined glance.
“I have considered, and my decision stands.” Cammy’s voice was resolute, her eyes never leaving the sorrowful beauty before her. “If there is a chance for liberation, I must take it.”
“Very well,” the head acquiesced, its spectral form shimmering with an otherworldly glow. “But remember, my hero, the path of good intentions oft leads into the abyss.”
“Then let the shadows come,” Cammy replied, showing all the stubbornness, drive and confidence she always had in such heroic moments. It was why the partners had voted her to be the companies’ leader every year.
Cammy stepped forward, her heart pounding with the weight of a thousand untold stories that echoed within the room. The once beautiful face on the wall gazed at her with eyes that held eternity’s sorrow, its visage a haunting mirror to the noblest of intentions.
“Be free,” she whispered, brushing away the tears that flowed from the head’s eyes, her lips brushing the cold forehead in a tender, innocent kiss.
The moment the warmth of her lips touched the spectral surface, the air shivered and the minds of all those present was torn at by a silent scream as reality contorted violently. The head’s features twisted in pain into something grotesque, skin stretching and peeling back to reveal a gaping abyss where beauty once resided. From within the maw, rows of jagged teeth glinted hungrily as an unfathomable darkness swirled like a storm of malevolence.
Cammy could not even gasp before the horror that had been the head lunged forward, its mouth enveloping her own head in a single, voracious bite. A wet, sickening crunch reverberated through the chamber, stopping the others in their tracks.
Pandemonium broke out as Cammy’s headless form hit the ground and the others realized that tendrils of shadow and ichor, thick and alive with malice, were attached to them. The shadowy tentacles had ensnared bodies and limbs and had been draining the life from them. Now, they pulled the adventurous company toward the abyssal mouth. Their screams melded with the gleeful cackle that bubbled up from the entity, a sound that would haunt the edges of their sanity for years to come.
“Would be heroes are always such fools, so ripe for the harvest,” the monster crooned, its voice a distorted echo of the head’s once gentle timbre. “You sought to free a soul, but instead you will feed me yours.”
The panic increased to levels unbearable to mortal hearts Jax fired his blessed pistol into the head in the wall with little affect.
“Your suffering makes you all the more delectable,” the creature taunted, its laughter spat at them as some managed to tear themselves away from its grasp, carrying with them wounds in their hearts as well as flesh, scars that would never heal.
Kayce wrenched his arm free, the tendril tearing away flesh as he stumbled backward, his gaze locked in horror at what remained of Cammy. If romantic interests were decided by the head instead of the heart he would have loved Cammy instead of Emelia. There was much to admire about her. She was the best of them. Her nobility, her courage, and most of all her compassion for the unfortunate, all consumed by an ancient evil they had so casually been talking with.
“Run!” he choked out, cutting the tendril that held Emelia, who was paralyzed by terror. They bolted towards the door, the house itself seeming to groan and resist their escape. They spent what felt like hours fighting their way out of the house. Every shadow spawned tendrils that clawed at them with spectral fingers blocking both doors and windows, and the head could seemingly spring from any wall. They lost Dutton learning that lesson. He was the first, but not the last.
“Remember this agony,” it spat out, “for I follow you until the end of your days! Where there is a shadow upon a wall, there will I be. There is no safety for you now”
Kayce, Emelia and Jax burst into the night, running at a panicked pace. They had been the only ones who survived but they did not look back for others as they crashed through the estate’s gates, leaving behind the eldritch abomination with the remains of their friend. The company was broken, only three in number, and forever changed. The survivors still will not talk about the that place etched into their very souls, a reminder of the consequences reaped from the seeds of greed and violence sown by mortals and gods alike.
In the ancient city of Snafu, in the rich parish of Sigan, sits an estate that was once the envy of all its neighbors on Dog Star Drive. Now, it sits a ruin, a blight upon the otherwise pristine neighborhood. No one knows what happened to its original owners, some say there was murder involved. Most believe the place to be haunted. But if you want it, all you have to do is fix it up and it is yours.
