Locked Within: Part 2/2

A Horror Story

Mercifully, the house was not affected by the rumbling that I was sure I was seeing. My wife and son were not aware of what I was witnessing unfold in our garden.

Clifton appeared in my periphery. ‘All done, Sir. Might I ask the reason for…’ he searched for the least offensive words, ‘for all the worry?’

‘Hush now,’ I hissed. Throughout all of this, I was entirely unaware of my hand gripping tight to the book that was still in my pocket. That still contained my future. I released it and worked my stiffened fingers back to life.

The grass still writhed. No longer in one place, but in three separate spots. Something seemed to bubble up from underneath. Then two more spots started to grow. The peak of the first lump in the ground split open. Bits of damp earth began to crumble as an unknown shape bore into reality. It rose from the hole, pieces of grime and grass clung to it and fell from it in equal measure. The creature, with a tree trunk body and leafless branch limbs, moved with spidery steps into the tree line. With each step came the sound of splintering wood. What I saw was not of the known natural ecosystem. It looked like a spider with an eerie fusion of spindly limbs and raw, knotted bark. It was wholly its own unnatural being.

I strode over to the hearth and took down the rifle mounted above. My ammunition was in a nearby drawer and I stuffed as many rounds into my pockets as they could possibly hold. The voices of my wife and Clifton were barely audible over the blood roaring in my ears. Driven by the urge to keep them safe, I stepped out of the front door and fired in the direction of that monstrosity. I stepped back into safety and, on my way back in, locked myself, my family and my staff inside.

I took my frightened wife and son by the arms and knelt before them. ‘Come with me until I am certain we are safe.’ I offered a smile, though I knew it was worthless. The master bedroom was comfortable for the two of them until I returned.

I raced back into the dining room and looked out again. The hole caused by that unthinkable animal was no longer the only hole in the garden. All five of the spots of bubbling earth were now yawning holes, pock-marking my lawn. Where the beast's brothers were now, I could not say.

I hastily led Clifton into the back of the house where the cook and the maid were. ‘Please trust me. Wait for me here.’ I ushered them into the pantry. ‘I must protect you.’

‘But Sir, you haven’t told us what is going on out there.’ Clifton stood his ground.

‘Please, Clifton. Look after these ladies. You are all very dear to me.’ I closed the door on them and hurried back down the corridor to the dining room.

It was obvious that I needed a plan. However, it was not even remotely clear what that plan should be. I paced back and forth for a few minutes, rifle in hand. Then the front door started to rattle. Without consideration, I took off running towards the door. Planting my feet, I aimed and fired through the wood at the horror on the other side. Shards of wood exploded from the door. It was impossible to tell if what I could hear was the door splintering or if it was those things manoeuvring around to launch another attack.

The banging on the back door confirmed my fears. I fumbled to reload the rifle as I made my way to the back of the house. I entered the kitchen as a sickening crunch impacted on the door. I emptied the gun three times before the attack stopped. 

My adrenaline-fuelled defence of the house had drained me of my energy which gave my emotions the chance to come to the surface. I let the rifle drop to the floor and slumped against the wall, sobbing into my knees. I tried to find comfort by turning the mysterious stone over in my hand. It was a mistake to let down my guard.

The thumping started up with an abruptness that shook my nerves to their limit. I couldn’t react now I had let my muscles relax. The sound of the front door splintering and footsteps echoed through my house, overwhelming me. I felt myself being dragged across the floor, but I could not remain conscious any longer.

The next thing I heard was voices. Familiar voices. ‘Is he alive?’

‘His eyes just flickered, he’s coming around.’

As the room slowly came into focus, I realised that two of my friends were in the room where I blacked out. ‘Arthur?’

‘It’s me, my friend,’ he said. ‘Charles is here too. We’re here for the dinner you were so excited about. The other guests will be here shortly.’

‘What do you mean? The dinner is not for another week.’

My friends exchanged looks. ‘It is this evening. You were quite specific with your instructions.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I spat. ‘I saw you at church yesterday, you told me you were looking forward to the dinner in a weeks time.’

‘I did indeed. But, that was not yesterday since you didn’t attend the service yesterday. A whole week has passed since we spoke at church,’ said Charles, forcing a smile. ‘You were telling us about the important meeting you were to have. An excellent opportunity for us you said. That meeting is tonight, but you seem to have forgotten. Nobody answered the door, where are your staff?’

‘How dare you come into my home and spout this nonsense.’ Confusion gripped me as I reflected on what I had just heard. I looked down, noting I was still wearing the clothes I had on, the clothes that Clifton commented on. Though the trousers were looser around my waist.

Then Arthur said, ‘Excuse me! We came in here because your front door is damaged and we were concerned. Now we see the back door is also damaged. We find you on the floor with a gun beside you. Are those holes in the door from you firing your weapon? You smell, when did you last wash? You are unshaven. You are confused. What is going on?’

Never am I not clean-shaven. I touched my face and to my dismay, discovered that stubble had grown over my cheeks and neck. Arthur was right. But, I had shaved just this morning. I even recall telling Clifton he must be clean-shaven for the dinner. Arthur and Charles must be right, though I have no memory of the past week. ‘Clifton, show yourself. You can come out now. We’re safe.’

‘Safe from what?’ asked Charles.

I ignored him, the unsettling feeling starting to shift into panic. ‘Clifton!’

‘Why wasn’t Clifton ready to let us in when we knocked?’ Arthur asked. ‘We were banging on the door like madmen.’ Stern was the expression on my friend’s faces.

I could only look down, unable to meet their questioning eyes. ‘I told him to hide in the pantry with the maid and the cook.’

Arthur and Charles exchanged a worried glance, a shared look of concern as they realised things were not as they should be. ‘Why?’ Charles pressed, as Arthur, closest to the pantry, reached for the door handle. His fingers closed on air. He glanced down, and there on the floor beside the door lay the brass handle, broken clean off, the exposed metal jagged and twisted. He swore under his breath, pushing against the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

‘You… broke it?’ Arthur looked back at me, bewildered, and I could only nod. My own desperate handiwork had trapped them.

With a grunt, Arthur threw his shoulder into the door, and finally, it gave way, swinging open. Inside, Clifton spilt out, tumbling into Arthur's arms.

‘Good Heavens!’ Arthur recoiled, letting Clifton's lifeless body drop to the floor. It lay there, unmoving and rigid.

He was dead.

His skin, drawn taut and sickly, had already begun to show the first ghastly signs of decomposition.

My lips worked silent words as the horrors of what I was bearing witness to settled in. How must the cook and the main have felt, trapped in there with Clifton as he drew his final breath? Then, as is my nature, I called to them, though I already knew the answer.

‘Charles, there are two more bodies in here. Females.’

Charles took hold of my collar, yanking with such force that he pulled me to my feet and pinned me hard against the wall. His face was twisted with horror and rage. ‘What have you done?’ he hissed, his grip tightening.

‘I had to protect them,’ I gasped, my words breaking into sobs. ‘I don’t understand. These, these things came out of the ground. We were attacked!’ And then I thought of my wife and son. They must be terrified. I couldn’t let them come down and see this.

I shoved past Charles and Arthur, their protests fading as I pounded down the hallway. The two men right behind me, shouting for me to stop. I reached the staircase, grasping the carved bannister for leverage as I swung onto the stairs, taking them two at a time. A stumble was audible from behind me as my pursuers climbed the stairs, trying to keep up, but I was already at the top and heading towards the master bedroom. 

When I reached the door, the handle was broken and lying on the floor. In my desperation, I had shattered it earlier, making it impossible to open from the inside, just like the pantry.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

Charles rounded the corner, Arthur not two paces behind, their faces blanched and furious.

I picked up the broken door handle and hurled it towards them, then backed up a few strides from the bedroom door and ran at it. My shoulder smashed into it,  through it. Debris from the wooden door and wooden frame burst outwards, upwards, showering down.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I stumbled into the room and brushed the splinters from my shoulders. My wife and son lay curled together on the bed, their forms unnatural and unmoving as if frozen in a final embrace. Still. They looked small, almost fragile, as though a gust of wind could scatter them like ashes. My hands shook as I took in the ashen pallor of their faces, the skin stretched taut and waxy, tinged with a sickly blue. I swallowed hard, feeling my throat tighten, and forced myself to step closer.

‘Please… you can get up now,’ I whispered, my voice cracking, barely more than a plea. I could feel the words crumble on my tongue, even as I spoke them. I clung to the desperate hope that they would stir, that this was all some terrible mistake, but I knew. They remained motionless, their eyes hollow and unseeing, fixed toward the nightstand beside them. I followed their gaze, my own eyes landing on the framed photograph there - our family portrait, smiling, whole, so full of life. It was the last thing they’d seen, the last piece of us they held onto as they slipped away.

My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed beside the bed, clutching at the bedclothes in a feeble attempt to steady myself. My hands brushed against the cold, unyielding flesh of their rigid hands, and a sob wrenched itself free from my chest. The room was thick with the unmistakable stench of death, clinging to every surface, saturating the very air I breathed. I tried to look away, but the haunting image of their drawn cheeks and cracked, lifeless lips was burned into my mind.

The next few minutes passed in a numb blur. I hardly noticed Charles and Arthur kicking me into submission. They showed me mercy by dragging me back down the stairs and out through the broken front door. I’m glad I didn’t have to look at them, however peaceful they appeared, because it would not have been a peaceful way to leave this life.

In the haze of the situation, Charles had gone to fetch the constable while Arthur held me at gunpoint. My own gun. That was when my eyes fell on the five holes in the garden and stirred my memory. ‘There! That’s where they came from. Out of those holes.’

‘Good luck trying to convince anyone with that little tale,’ Arthur spat. ‘Five holes. One for each victim.’

Although they were out of sight, I could hear Charles approach with what sounded like the entire constabulary. Something dug into my ribs as I sat hunched over in anticipation of the full force of the law. The book which contained the item was still in my jacket. No sooner had I taken it out did I feel Arthur haul me up by my underarms. The stone dropped to the grass and time seemed to slow. The gentle wind roused only the longer blades of grass where the stone landed. Before my eyes, I saw it move towards the closest of the holes made by the unworldly animals. At the rim of the hole, it simply melted into the soil, leaving no trace.

My free arm was taken by a constable and Arthur handed my other side to another. I was dragged across the ground, legs trailing behind, unable to walk of my own volition.

My former gardener heard about the events that had unfolded. That I had lost track of time, and my mind, telling fanciful stories about monsters. What I thought was a few hours had in fact been a whole week. I had starved and dehydrated my entire staff and family. I had claimed to have a very valuable stone, yet no such item was ever recovered, which crushed any of my remaining credibility.

The gardener came to visit me in the early days. He wanted to hear the story from the only witness. I was most surprised when I learned that he had been to the house soon after my capture. He said had seen no evidence of any holes ever being there. I fancied that in his front trouser pocket was the outline of something very similar to the that of the stone I found.

I still see that green swirling cloud within the precious stone when I dream. And to this day I hear that ever so disturbing sound of the thing I saw rising from the earth. The wood-splintering sound of it in motion still plays in my inner ear whenever I hear the wind rustle through the trees.

The End