The wind whistled, the trees lurched, the hoots of owls and the howls of the wolves weren't all else you could here as the forest lay in unrest.
The eaves of the old Bernard house rattled as the moon hid behind another slew of clouds. Floor boards began to creak as someone dared to step foot on unholy ground.
Not a soul would dare lay their head to rest here. So much anguish has befallen this place. The most recent being just a year prior.
October 2019
Hallows eve, once a time believed for souls to cross from one realm to another, has come to be bit of an amusement in the States. Youngins dress in garments presenting the most iconic of roles in their lives. Towns filled with streets, lined with homes, teeming with anticipation and excitement for free candy as little ones dress up as Superman and Batman. Sidewalks explode with people as Elsa and Anna skip down the way holding their neon pink pumpkin pails. All throughout town the buildings are coated in fake webs and eerie lights. Vampires and zombies stand in corners waiting for unsuspecting passers. The smell of bonfire and s'mores flitting through the air. The laughter and squeals bounce off the walls of the houses. Down the cluttered roads to ones less known. Through the trees already bare for the season, if they had even bothered to re-grow them from seasons past.
Further than even the farthest dead end street, lay a drive that was once lined with luscious growth. The Bernard place had been the spectacle of the town at one point in time. A marvelous mansion that hosted the most superlative of parties. Grounds that spread for acres, mostly woods mind you but with glorious, well kept trails that you could walk and unwind. Now the grounds lay in dismay. All the greenery was unruly and unkempt. Shrubbery and flowers all across the property had taken over the masonry lining previously laid paths. The hedges of the maze loomed over the fawn that dared to venture in for food. Vines had grown up straggly and voluptuous trees alike, even stretching across the ground to the lattice of the porch, up the columns and coating the walls in thick ivy. The interior was just as disheveled. A fire had consumed the home in the late 1900s, taking the lives of the last known generation of Bernard's with it. The fire was suspected to be arson however the investigation was inconclusive, a tale for another time.
Ash and soot coated all surfaces inside. Remnant cinder scattered across the once magnificent hardwood and tile floors. Graffiti now layered on top of the singed wallpaper. The banister to a magnificent winder staircase splintered and beaten. Drapes to 10 foot windows torn to shred and half consumed by the flames all throughout the shell of a building. Some signs of life were still dispersed throughout the rooms. Things like shattered china, tarnished silverware, busted chairs and stretched springs, crispy books and flattened pillows. It'd make for a great haunted house attraction wouldn't it?
That's what Mr. Stevie Jones had thought anyway. The property had been left in shambles and claimed by the state some time prior because no realtor could convince anyone to buy the estate. Countless folks had tried their best but even the homeless and squatters couldn't stand to stay for too long before they moved on to the next lot. Getting permission to use the lot for his Halloween Attraction had been far easier than Stevie had thought it would be and he knew he could make big bucks with very minimal effort if he planned this just right. He found a cheap cast of school kids looking to make a few bucks and some disbanded circus folks who were rather ambiguous about their work history. Brought in some inexpensive props from his theater troupe days to set up around the rooms. Rented out a generator for the evening for minimal lighting and effects. This would be a breeze! Or so he continued to tell himself.
Crowds did wander down to the lot as the night progressed. Long time residents curious to see what fool took on the challenge. Visitors from neighboring areas wanting to experience something new and unknown. A few of the entrants left uneasy from the atmosphere. Some left disheartened from the state of the once magnificent building. Most of the teens just used the various empty rooms as a place to go and make out or smoke. A number of the patrons just left blase and un-amused from the poor execution.
As the waning moon reached it's crest, a dense fog trickled in, weaving in and out of the trees surrounding the estate. The crowds had all but ceased to meander down the path. All but one lone figure. Standing at roughly 5'11", shrouded in a long, worn leather cloak; the figure inched his way closer dragging a duffel bag behind him with his right hand. As the figure approached the old and rickety building, he climbed up the steps dragging the duffel bag. It thumped against the edge of the boards and clanged as the metal inside scraped amongst itself. He wordlessly walked passed the ticket holder who was dozing in a brittle chair ready to snap as it leaned back into a corner, feet propped onto a sticky pop-up table. He seemed to glide through the corridor, clearing the dust and debris with his bag as he went. There was no hesitation in his movements. He made his way through to the back, where the servants quarters would have been originally. He single handedly swung the duffel bag up onto a counter with a clammer. He unzipped the bag and began to pull out the tools inside. Laid out on every surface were objects, it was like he had a Mary Poppins bag of metal instruments. Pry bars. Chain. Bent, rusty pipes. Large ladles from a soup kitchen. Knives galore. Hand full upon handful of nails and safety pins. Jagged keys, some that had been worn down sharpened into a point. Gears and saw blades crudely attached to hand cranked egg beaters.
After he had finished emptying the bag of the smaller remnants, the man pulled out one final tool. A chainsaw with the chain blade hanging loosely around the guide bar. Twigs and leaves were wedged into the bumper spikes and chain brake. There as something else glistening off the handle and plastic cover, could it be remnants of little berries from a bush he had trimmed earlier in the day? Trees would have a sticky substance when freshly cut but they wouldn't leave something of that color and consistency, would they?
He held the chainsaw firmly in one hand as he grabbed the end of 2 inch thick chain and harshly whipped it around his own arm. With a sense of gusto, the man climbed up the narrow steps from the kitchen to a tiny bedroom above, two steps at a time. Fecal matter, both animal and human, filled the room with a very repugnant odor. It didn't phase him. Not a falter could be seen in his stature.
Making his way through the second floor, he passed room upon room without a glance. Rambunctious teens had at each other in filth covered rooms, on dingy and trashed cushions. He passes more rooms. Inattentive stoners vibed as they swung their feet from the balcony over the large living room. He continues down the hall. Then he stops. Chain ringing as it sways back and forth from the momentum. The saw hanging at his side. The door in front of him, barely open, hangs crookedly from a single hinge. Another figure can be seen through the crack enjoying a cigar as they stare out a giant shattered window.
Our visitor kicks the door with enough force to break off the last hinge and it thuds on the floor as one edge hits and then again as the other lays the door flat. The man at the window is startled and nearly drops his cigar as he turns to meet eyes with his brother Andrew.
End
*the final death scene has been omitted as to ensure there are not any parties which would be upset from the graphic description as well as to leave the mystery up to the reader*
