Damned Fiction

by David Kempf

  Brown nodded at Matheson. “Well, Christian, off to Vermont we go.”

  Christian McDowell was quite happy to be leaving New York City and flying to Vermont for the moment. Although he dreaded going back to that dreadful place, he was ecstatic to get away from the creepy, dying, amoral old man left behind. When they arrived at The Griffith, a house that had been a well-kept secret at one time, McDowell felt himself in the middle of a high anxiety panic attack. Griffith, nicknamed “Bill House,” was not as large as Matheson’s ancestral home but it was dark, menacing and screamed gloomy, even from a fair distance’s viewing.

  “You okay?” Brown asked.

  “Yes. Well, I will be.”

  Bill’s house waited.

  And so did all the dread.

  SIX PEOPLE DIE IN FIRE AT OCCULT HOUSE

  Christian McDowell tried to rid himself of all the terrible headlines and memories to get the job done.

  Dr. Brown pulled the keys out of his pocket. The abandoned home loomed in the near distance. They slowly walked to it, kicked open what was left of the gate and went to the front door. They might not have been heroes but they at least needed to be mercenaries.

  “One suitcase?” asked McDowell.

  “No, Matheson’s guy is bringing my controversial contraption. It can’t prove much but it does have a tendency to show mental breakdowns, delusions and the power of the mind to create things that do not exist.”

  “I’m so glad you brought it.”

  The two men stared at the front door for a good uneasy minute that seemed to last a lifetime.

  “Turn the key, get it over with, doctor.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  And then they were inside a condemned building with a reputation for death, madness and magic spells.

  “Jesus Christ,” McDowell said.

  ***

  The gentlemen walked right in now and took a long, hard look. There was no electricity, a few lamps, and some burnt furniture, nothing to speak of, nothing at all. Certainly nothing to be frightened of, that was likely true. McDowell rubbed his clean hands against the filthy walls, the doctor subtly rolled his eyes at him for the childish gesture. There was an echo when they walked. The windows had bars on them like a prison or an insane asylum. And this was fitting because bars had some meaning here, the madness of alcoholism, some call it a disease, the less charitable call it a terrible character flaw but most can agree that it’s a mental illness of some kind. This was no place for recovery. It was no treatment center. The house had been abandoned for a long time now. Still, it stunk like yesterday’s garbage. Even worse, somehow it still stunk like booze, even after all this time. Worse yet, it smelled like shit and piss, despite being abandoned for such a long time. There were a few spider webs around but this was a real haunted house, not some cheap Halloween imitation. Bill’s House was made of nightmares.

  “We have a lot to do, Christian.”

  “Yes.”

  “Speak up here, anything you want to share?”

  The only survivor of Bill house paused in thought.

  “Well?”

  “This is the Devil’s house.”

  The doctor tried hard not to roll his eyes.

  “Dr. Brown, we need to proceed like our lives depend on it… we need to be careful.”

  “Yes, proceed with caution like our lives depend on it. I understand, Christian.”

  “Because our lives do depend on it, on caution,” he said nervously.

  “I hate this house.”

  “I know,” Dr. Brown said, patting him on the back.

  The front door which was now open squeaked and Matheson’s man, tall, dark and not remotely handsome entered the infamous abandoned house. “I will require assistance,” he said. On the porch were a number of large crates housing the components of Brown’s device.

  The three of them spent the next few hours setting up the machine.

  “What in hell does that thing do anyway?” McDowell asked. “What do you even call it?”

  “The Third Leg,” Dr. Brown answered him. The machine was ghastly looking. It was almost as big as a small car but much lighter in weight or even a Goliath like Matheson’s butler would not have been able to physically bring it inside. It was shaped like a U. It was also very dark and hard to see now that evening had fallen. Matheson wanted the cliché of having the two men spend the night at the infamous so-called haunted house. McDowell had already turned on the few lamps that were in Bill House and found it odd that there was some sort of working electricity.

  Dr. Brown walked up to his creation and pressed a small button underneath. It lit up like a Christmas tree and there was visible light in whatever room they were presently in.

  A flashing light, the only one colored red beeped at the top of the machine.

  “Oh no,” said its creator.

  “What does that mean, Dr. Brown?”

  “Wait,” said Dr. Brown.

  The tall man took a few steps towards the door.

  “Wait,” said Dr. Brown.

  “You have all that you require; I would like to leave now.”

  “No.”

  “Take a few steps in that direction,” Dr. Brown said, pointing to the right side of the room.

  “How many steps?” the tall man asked him.

  “Take twelve steps.”

  The butler walked, twelve steps, not aimlessly but without any clear direction in mind. Then he crossed over to the other side of the room and looked like he had seen a ghost.

  The dead, filthy house came alive before the eyes of the three men. The tall man was in a trance now. The dirt on the floors disappeared, paint reappeared on the walls and all of the lights came on inside the home. The three me, especially Matheson’s butler, were fighting the good fight against reality itself and they were losing. The stinking hellhole had completely changed in appearance. It now looked like a beautiful spacious penthouse located in a large city. The three men were stunned.

  “My God,” said Dr. Brown. “Did this happen this way before?”

  “No,” McDowell answered.

  The man was under a spell and walked briskly into what was now an extravagant bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” asked Dr. Brown.

  “God hates this house,” he said before quickly walking into the bathroom. The lights were on and the man gazed into three spacious mirrors.

  And then he turned the lights off.

  The butler knew just what to say.

  “Bill W.”

  “Bill W.”

  “Bill W.”

  There was a pause before the man turned the lights back on.

  A vicious blue figure came out of the mirror and devoured the tall man who never even had the time to scream.

  The two living men in the house were looking at the mirror, empty; the figure had vanished in an instant.

  SIX PEOPLE DIE IN ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS FOUNDER SECRET OCCULT HOUSE

  “Christ, he’s back and he wants new blood,” McDowell said.

  “You can’t remember any of this from your first encounters in this house?”

  “No.”

  “Are we trapped now?”

  “Yes. You wanted proof of life after death; I think you just got it.”

  “Indeed, I have.”

  “It was the goddamn machine, wasn’t it?”

  “McDowell, we need to go. Now.”

  They walked quickly to the front door. The evil house would eat them alive if they didn’t get out. If it wasn’t too late to escape already…

  The door, of course, would not unlock. The malicious spirit of the house would never let them out alive now. The repugnant thing from beyond was growing hungry. Evil had awakened.

  “If we can’t escape, we can try to trap it with my machine, McDowell. We don’t have to be abducted by that creature like the others.”

  “Edith was burned alive with the rest; we never saw anything….”

  They heard a heavy thud above them.
>
  “What the fuck?” said the doctor.

  “And you are the foremost life after death investigator?” McDowell snarled at the so-called expert. “Do something!”

  Dr. Brown nodded. “I’ve got to try. I’m sorry I talked you into this. I….”

  Thud!

  “Ahhh…” Something fell from above and hit the doctor on the head.

  “My God,” McDowell said. “Is that…”

  “It looks like it could belong to him. It’s from the Great Depression era.” It was a small wooden square about the size of a fist with a bright single white lightbulb in the center of it.

  “Yeah, that’s Bill Wilson’s spook lamp, Dr. Brown.”

  “Christ,” McDowell said.

  “Have a drink on me….”

  The voice suddenly came. Matheson wanted proof of life after death and now it was here.

  “It’s… his voice, Bill Wilson,” said McDowell.

  “Yes.” They could really feel it now. The presence of Bill Wilson was cold and terrifying.

  The dark figure of the A.A. founder crossed the threshold and formed into a ghostly hand. It picked up McDowell and the doctor….

  “What the hell, Dr. Brown?”

  There was a bar in the house, it didn’t mysteriously appear but it was previously unseen by the two men. In a way, it was like the bar was always there. The rules of reality no longer applied now. The fiendish spirit had waited with inhumane patience for them to be foolish enough to come into its secret home, uninvited but deeply wanted.

  “God in Heaven,” McDowell whispered in terror.

  The hand of by Bill pushed them into their barstools. The pain was excruciating and their sadistic host was laughing at them. He was enjoying the moment.

  “Have a drink on me….”

  The finest wine and spirits, champagne, vodka and mugs of thick imported beer magically appeared on the bar. Bill was going to make them drink. He was going all the way with them now and they would not have a choice in the matter. The two men were his now his bitches and besides he had the advantage of being dead.

  “I don’t see him,” McDowell said.

  “The hand has vanished and he’s choosing not to appear. He’s made himself known.”

  “My God, how can you be so objective about this?”

  “McDowell, this is an amazing experience,” Doctor Brown answered nervously. “Even if he chooses to kill us, you know that we will survive the physical death. We’ve proven there is life after death. It’s not like we just rot in the ground. You already knew that, didn’t you?”

  The only survivor of Bill House could not answer. He looked down in sheer terror to see his legs were no longer there. The evil spirit hadn’t removed them. The lower half of his body was the barstool.

  “Dear God!” shouted Dr. Brown. He noticed that he was half man and half barstool, too.

  “Have a drink on me….”

  The pain was real but their physical bodies were surreal. They looked like the abstract painting of some hack drunk who thought he was a great artist.

  “Drink up, McDowell, just do it!” The doctor instinctively knew what to do. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from off the bar and chugged it, fighting the impulse to vomit, chugged, chugged, chugged. Then he gazed down and saw that a little bit more of him was human again. Perhaps if he drank enough booze then the rest of him would return. McDowell did not move at all. He looked like he would never be restored to sanity.

  “Fucking drink, you idiot!”

  “No,” he whispered softly.

  “Damn you to hell, do it!”

  The physical form of Bill Wilson, founder of Alcoholics Anonymous materialized before them.

  “Tell him why you won’t drink….”

  “I won’t drink because I’m a recovering alcoholic,” McDowell said.

  The creature had a name, Bill Wilson, in the form he knew in life and he was smiling at the two terrified men now.

  “Please release us,” said Dr. Brown.

  “As you wish….”

  The men, while still trapped in the house, were beyond relieved to see that they had legs; they were merely sitting on their stools rather than part of them. The magic trick, the illusion was now over. They were not safe, the fiend still had unspeakable leverage but they at least could see their legs.

  “Keep it simple….”

  Even though their legs returned, they could not walk away. The two men paralyzed like flies in a spider’s web.

  “What do you want with us?” Dr. Brown asked bravely.

  The sinister Bill W. waved his hands and the two men heard the sounds of glass breaking. The sound echoed all over the massive house of secrets. When the sound ceased, suddenly it happened. All of the glass flew in a magic circle, above their heads and then fell down at their feet. It melted and formed a new eerie blue mirror. They looked into it and saw the face of Matheson, the financial answer to their life’s problems.

  “I’m trapped, I don’t know where I am,” said the old man.

  “Can you hear us?” Dr. Brown asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know where you are but there is life after death, Mr. Matheson. We all know that now.”

  “I don’t know if I’m in a dream or awake. It feels like a nightmare I can’t get out of.”

  “The nightmare is real and there is no escape….”

  “Oh God, am I in Hell?” asked the man in the mirror.

  Their host laughed so hard that cracks began to form in the glass of the mirror.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment old timer….”

  A blue flame formed and it worked its way slowly up Matheson’s body and he screamed in unspeakable agony. He let out a deep last breath filled with smoke. The smoke pouring from his mouth. Matheson vanished. The remaining smoke rose slowly and disappeared into the house’s high ceiling.

  “I won’t be afraid of you, Wilson,” McDowell said.

  “You’re afraid already and you should be….”

  The repressed memories of his wife’s death were coming back in droves to haunt Christian McDowell’s mind. Her screams, being burned alive and the orgy ghosts that materialized in their presence…

  They had guests. Men and women, naked, drunk, humiliating and hurting one another and it was not a nightmare. It was not a flashback; the house had many bad memories that came to fruition to those foolish enough to come inside of it and cross its unholy threshold. They weren’t imagining it, thee apparitions wanted to attack them but they could not for some reason. The perverted walls of the house were breathing heavy; the sounds of masturbation surrounded them and crawled into their eardrums. Naked lovers prayed in a circle and then vanished, this was not a dream, it was going on now and before they could speak or scream…

  The house returned into the abandoned, dirty, vacant old building that it was once was when they had first arrived except…

  The mirror remained.

  “It’s all gone,” said Dr. Brown.

  “No,” said McDowell. “It isn’t.”

  Dr. Brown screamed, he felt demonic powers at work and they bit and scratched him without mercy or pity. He looked down in utter astonishment and saw that there were no marks on him. He checked his hands for blood but there wasn’t any. The blind eye saw no harm, no foul.

  “Take off your shirt so I can check you,” McDowell said.

  The doctor tore off his shirt.

  “There isn’t a scratch on you, Dr. Brown.”

  A hissing sound came from out of the dark. Brown looked at his feet and saw a mangy black cat run away. It vanished into the darkness of the other side of the damned house.

  “People praying in a circle, doctor, we can never leave each other alone. I think that I’m beginning to understand.”

  “Lust and debauchery here….”

  “No, that’s not it,” McDowell said.

  “What are you clutching in your hand, McDowell?”

  The former drunk opened up h
is right hand. A bloody coin fell from it and the sound echoed when it hit the floor.

  “The occult?” asked Dr. Brown.

  “Yes, praying in circles, the black cat that just so happened to be in the neighborhood and the fact that the paranormal activity stopped at that precise moment.”

  “That was an A.A. coin, wasn’t it Christian?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “This is no figment of our imagination; this is a real haunted house. It may even be the only real one in existence.”

  The two men were beginning not to doubt their own sanity for the moment. Then it happened. An invisible force paralyzed them.

  “Oh my God, McDowell.”

  The mirror brightened up with an unholy blue color, it was making a return appearance in case they hadn’t believe their eyes the first time.

  “Welcome to the show….”

  The mirror darkened for a moment but then lit up brighter than ever before.

  McDowell was the only one to make it out alive the first time and barely maintained his sanity.

  Now all bets were off.

  Figures came alive from the mirror.

  People appeared and walked all around the two surviving men. They looked like they were either from The Great Depression or World War 2 eras by the way they were dressed. They slowly started to undress one another. One young lady pulled out a man’s penis from his zipper before he had a chance to strip. He moaned in ecstasy as she gave him the perfect blow job. Two men in the dark corner were banging the same woman; one of them was winking at another woman while he ogled at her perfect tits.

  A mysterious beauty with an amazing body smiled at a fat man who was obviously feeling shame about being naked. He looked upon her eyebrows before he dared stare “down there” at another part of her beautiful body. “Come inside me,” she said and pushed him down on the dirty floor. He felt every curve of her body and her smooth skin was luscious. She climbed on top of him and fucked his brains out.

  “Lovely, isn’t she…?”

  “Where’s Bill, I can’t see him, doc.”

  “Neither can I, McDowell. Show yourself you bastard!”

  Whatever mindless, chaotic horror they had yet to endure hadn’t manifested itself yet. Bill would show himself again in good time. An ego like his had to be the center of attention.