Page 27 of Eldritch

Sybil jerked awake.

She still sat in the hard metal chair.

“What the hell?”

All the lights coming from the house on the west side were out. Only the faintest glow from the western sky gave her a reference. She sucked in a breath as a smidgen of fear bubbled up inside her.

She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep. It felt like she had just closed her eyes and then wham. She was asleep. She rubbed her eyes and glanced toward the forest beyond.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The trees appeared to have gotten closer. Their darkening shapes much…much closer. To demand she go inside. They were thicker. Moving toward the house. Blocking the light. Blocking the way out. Rustling. Leaves whispering disapproval, or maybe a warning.

“Shit,” she said and stood with a jerk. She grabbed her cell phone out of her waist belt and turned on the flashlight.

She swung the light toward the trees to the west that stood at least two hundred yards from the edge of the terrace. No. The trees weren’t closer.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. What the hell?

Just your silly imagination. You’re so sensitive, Sybil. Sensitive and silly.

Still, she didn’t feel comfortable. Time to hit the bed if she was tired enough to fall asleep in a chair that felt like a rock. She made her way through the door and back into the Great Hall.

Almost Stygian darkness engulfed the Great Hall. Damn. She locked the door quickly. The heavy pieces of furniture…everything in the Great Hall including the chandelier, seemed to glare and accuse. The weight of this house’s age pressed down on her. Even the light from her phone didn’t help her feel more at ease.

Before she could head toward the staircase, something loomed up on her left. She gasped. Swung the light toward the cloakroom and the cellar door beyond.

Nothing. No one.

The cellar door called. It asked her to move forward. To come down.

Shivering inside, she took a shuddering breath.

No. No, I’m not going in there now. Not alone.

You’ve never been a coward in the darkness. Never.

It didn’t matter. Now wasn’t the time.

She continued toward the staircase and moved slowly, eager not to trip. She eased up the steps, a crawling suspicion something followed her and yet something also lurked up ahead.

When she reached the third floor, she hustled to reach her room. The light from her phone hit the sparkling chandelier hanging in the center of the hall. She stopped in the hallway, flabbergasted. Her room door was open again.

“Oh, come on.”

Anger pushed her forward. She went to the door and boldly opened it and stepped inside. She flipped on the light, pushed by exasperation.

The chandelier in the center of the room lit up.

Nothing. There wasn’t a hulking man in a mask ready to carve her up slasher flick style. She closed the door and locked it. After searching the bathroom, under the bed and in the closet, she discovered no one was lurking. She noticed the suitcase…the one Clarice had mentioned the renters had left behind. She ignored it for now. Okay, so the door to this bedroom had some sort of issue. She could ask Mr. MacKenzie if he knew anything about fixing doors.

She sat on the edge of the bed and examined the gothic monstrosity of a room. The heaviness of the furniture, the dark purple velvet curtains that drooped near the windows. Normally furniture in a Victorian home appealed to her. This room...this house made her feel off. Discomfited. At odds with that part of her that found stability and self-assurance in the simple foundation of cleaning. Of knowing steps that fit in a box. Clean this carpet. Wax the floor. Polish. Dust. Descale. Whatever was needed to make a house shiny. Clean of any stench. Able to start fresh without the taint of what went there before.

Oh, but there are things you can’t scrub out, Sybil. Things even you can remove.

This house had more than the usual history lying thick, like a sludge on every surface. Beyond dust. Beyond dirt so thick it adhered like concrete. As she looked at the tray ceiling, at the curlicues that adorned the large wood mantle above the fireplace, it all whispered to her.

See me. Hear me. Feel me. You know I’m here.

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