[Summer Contest Entry 2016] Unravelled

The moment I saw the house, I regretted taking up the job.

It was old and decrepit, that much was for sure. The wooden planks nailed over the windows had rotted to such an extent that a slight shove would probably break them. Ivy and moss formed a disease-like covering that spread across the outer walls, proof that mother nature was reclaiming her territory. There was literally nothing for miles around except for dense woodland and a single overgrown dirt track that snaked up the hill.

Places like these were nothing new. When I’d accepted that crumpled piece of paper that declared me fit for exorcising, I’d known all too well what I was signing up for. That was an exorcist’s job: to expel demons and remove their curse, and everyone knew that demons could only be found in dark and creepy places. It didn’t help that the last few rays of the sun were just sinking below the sky, not that the time of day would really help my case. The inside of that house was going to be pitch black, day or no.

I took a deep breath and placed my left hand on the doorknob. My right hand was on the handle of my revolver - already loaded with six bullets of pure silver. They were all I had - silver didn’t come cheap, and I’d almost burned through my savings. I needed to finish this job or I’d have more than scary houses to worry about.

As expected, the door made a loud creaking noise as it swung open. I took out a worn lantern from my satchel and lit it before stepping inside.

The furniture had been left untouched. It was as if there had been a family living here just yesterday - there were still plates on the table, chairs scattered about the fireplace, unwashed dishes in the sink. If it weren’t for the lack of light in the place or the thick layer of dust that coated everything, it could pass for any other household.

A cold wind blew from behind me, and I decided to shut the door. It wouldn’t be good if my only source of light was put out.

I took another breath and did what I always did in situations like these - I started from the facts.

The only lead I’d been given from the nearby village was that the place was haunted by some sort of monster or spirit. There had been plenty of people who’d set foot inside, whether to tear it down, loot it or even just seek shelter for the night - but none had ever been heard from ever again. In fact, the only reason I’d been sent here to get down to the root of the problem was because the mayor wanted to build a new trading route to another city, and this house was in the way. The villagers were a superstitious lot and I didn’t blame them. I’d seen more than my fair share of demons who were powerful enough to curse an entire settlement.

So, the house was haunted - or the home of a demon that wanted to be left alone. As always, getting a general idea of what the place was like before the haunting was a good place to start. I’d heard that there had once been a family living out here, but that was several decades ago.

I began with the combined dining room and living room. As I’d noted earlier, nothing really seemed out of place. The plates were on the table, the chairs were where you’d expect them to be, the cutlery -

Hang on.

The cutlery was there, but only half of it. There were three plates on the table, three forks, but only two knives. I brought the lantern closer to the table, and caught a glimpse of metal on the ground.

It was the last knife.

I peered more closely at the piece of silverware. It was then that I noticed the dark, reddish stain smeared across it.

Blood.

Dried blood, but blood nevertheless. I moved my eyes to the floorboards around it and saw more of the dark stains, so old and gone that they could have been mistaken for rust.

There had been a struggle. Not much of a struggle considering the other silverware had remained untouched. I pictured two of the family being taken by surprise, and the third struggling with the knife before being overpowered.

My stomach began to feel uncomfortable. I’d been clinging onto the hope that the place wasn’t really haunted, that the tales had just been blown out of proportion - but that hope was now gone.

There was nothing else noteworthy in the main room, so I moved on to the kitchen.

Dirty dishes - or rather, a dirty dish. Just one dish, no cutlery. That was odd - that meant someone had already eaten before the other three. Assuming the other three had been killed in the same place by the same person, it would have been incredibly hard to kill the fourth person since they would have heard the struggle and come to help. Of course, that was assuming they hadn’t gone out to run an errand - they could always have been killed on the way back. In any case, whatever had happened here had happened too long ago to tell for sure.

The master bedroom was next. There were clothes in the closet, nothing really helpful in the drawers. The typical things you’d expect to find in a master bedroom. I was quite certain now - it was a family of four, a mother and father with two kids.

I slowly backed out of the room. I didn’t think there was anything else of use here - and there was still upstairs anyway.

The house was so quiet by now that I could hear the sound of my own breathing. My feet made no sound on the steps as I climbed them, something which I was immensely grateful for. When everything is silent, the slightest noise is enough to wake the dead.

As I climbed the stairs, my lantern-light shone across some photos. They were worn and faded, but I could still see them. There was a dark-haired couple, the parents presumably. There was a young boy, also dark-haired. He didn’t look particularly old - five, ten perhaps? The fact that they’d had photos taken of them meant that it hadn’t been too long ago since they’d been alive. It had only been a matter of decades since photography had first caught on - if they hadn’t had their lives ended prematurely, they’d probably still be alive today.

The last photo was a family one. That was when my instincts began to scream.

There was the couple in the background, smiling. There was the boy, smiling in the foreground.

And that was it.

There had been four plates downstairs. Of course, I could be overthinking things. Maybe they had a visitor or something.

I reached the top of the stairs and took a breather. There were three doors, one of which was already open: the bathroom. I peeked inside quickly, but there was nothing to be found. I did note, however, that there were four toothbrushes. The fourth one looked relatively unused compared to the other three, much to my puzzlement.

I wiped my sweaty palm on my pants before gripping the revolver again. This time, I opened one of the other doors.

It was a child’s room, belonging to the boy in the photos no doubt. It was surprisingly neat and orderly. I took a quick peek along the bookshelf - all fairy tales and novels. This boy liked to read.

I rifled through the drawers but found nothing of interest. I’d been hoping for a diary or something similar, but it looked like Lady Luck wasn’t on my side. On the bright side, I’d live to fight another day. It would simply be a matter of declaring the house safe once I got back, and reaping my reward.

I shook my head. I was getting ahead of myself again, there was still one room left to be explored. I was just about to leave when something struck my mind.

Children usually keep things under their beds, because they think no one ever checks. I know I used to.

Following this line of thought, I bent down and checked under the bed.

There was a small box propped up against the wall. Holding my breath, I reached for it and brought it out towards my lantern.

It was small and wooden, probably used to hold sweets once upon a time. It now had been emptied and transformed into a box of treasures, which I was able to confirm upon opening it.

There were coins, trinkets, buttons and various other objects a child would deem †˜valuable’. It reminded me a bit of a crow’s nest - loaded with meaningless objects, most of them being nothing more than †˜shiny’. However, there was one thing I found at the bottom of the box that drew my attention.

It was a photo, one of a younger dark-haired couple holding two babies in their arms.

Two babies. They were both wrapped up in linen sheets, and I could only see the face of one of them.

My heart nearly stopped. Two babies, yet the photos along the staircase had only shown one child. Four plates, four toothbrushes.

Something was amiss here. Had the other child been adopted into another family? Had they died shortly after birth? But that wouldn’t explain the fourth plate, which suggested they’d been living together up until the last days...

I swallowed the lump in my throat and slowly moved back into the hallway. My lantern was almost completely burned through - I didn’t have much time left. There was one last room left to explore.

The moment I opened the door and saw what was inside, I regretted ever setting foot inside the house.

It was like a satanic ritual.

I expected to find a bedroom, but all I found was a bloodied cross on the ground. Burned out candles were equally spaced on each of the four points, and a holy bible lay strewn on the ground. I knew almost immediately what had happened.

They’d attempted to perform an exorcism here, but it clearly hadn’t worked. It was a crucifix type exorcism - where the possessed subject is nailed to the ground like Christ in his dying moments, and through pain and the holy bible the demon is forced out. I’d performed one before, and it hadn’t been a pretty sight.

After shining my light upon the worn covers of the bible, I realized there was another book lying on the ground beside it. As soon as I opened it and flipped to one of the pages, I knew what it was.


Why do mother and father always look at me with such disappointed looks? Whenever I join them downstairs they always stop talking and we end up in an uncomfortable silence…


I realized my hand was shaking. Taking a breath to steady myself, I continued to skim through the numerous entries.


Mother and father had a fight today. I think it was about me, because the moment I walked in on them they both looked away and stopped talking. They won’t tell me anything about it, but Jack tells me it’s because of my body. Is my face really that loathsome to see?


I could imagine the poor child pouring his unspoken feelings into the book. I dreaded what was to come, but I was too far gone to stop now.


Mother explained the situation to me. It’s as I thought; I’m a monster. I’m to stay in my room whenever a guest arrives and pretend I don’t exist. They’ve destroyed all the photos around the house with my face in them. I still eat with them, but it feels like we’re growing further and further apart by the day.


Jack stopped playing with me today. He said he’d agreed to go out with some friends, so I spent the day playing by myself in my room. The silence at the dinner table every day is terrifying - whenever i look away, their eyes are on my face. I wish I could have been born a normal boy… what have I done to anger God?


Mother has been delivering meals to my door for a while now. I was asked if I could do them a favour and just stay in my room whenever I didn’t need to do anything, in case there were any visitors to the house. I had a big argument with them and tried to run away from home, but the sunlight was too bright for me to see. I really am a monster now, aren’t I?


It’s so lonely inside my room. I’ve been clawing at my face to try and change it, but nothing seems to work. It’s fun, though. The human body is surprisingly sturdy and recovers quite quickly. When Mother and Father found out, they took away everything in my room that I could possibly use to harm myself.


I had a visitor for the first time in what feels like months to me. He was supposed to cure me, but all he did was make me hurt. Of course it wouldn’t work; after all, I’m a monster aren’t I? I think he did cure a part of me though. I feel strangely… liberated.


The entries were becoming more and more sparse, with larger time gaps between them. I continued to read, my breath in my throat.


I left the ritual on my floor to remind me of what I am. I am a demon, something that was never meant to be. I’ve taken a liking to blood now, especially that of my own. There’s something exciting about it - the smell, the feel, the taste...


My family went out today. We had a visitor, but when I opened the door he attacked me out of fear. I killed him with a hatchet to protect myself, and hid his body. It felt… good. Like my presence was finally being acknowledged.


If it weren’t for the food being delivered to me every day, I’d believe my family to be dead. I feel like seeing them today, though. I want them to acknowledge me. It’s been so long, how will they react when they see what I’ve become now?


My lantern shivered. I didn’t have much time left.


I killed them all. Even as I write this, I feel the last ties I have with my humanity breaking. I suppose there was no helping it, my fate was sealed from the moment I was born.


It was at that moment I heard the door open behind me, and the sound of heavy breathing. There was no sound as the flame in my lantern went out.