Don't Let Them Notice You
Page 3
Joseph looked at Mike, unable to find a comment for a moment.
“That poor old swine…Imagine having all that going round in your head. He must have been scared stiff living over here on his own.”
Mike read that last section again.
“…If a portal is damaged deliberately to block a VAN-HI’TE’ then it will attach itself to that person for the rest of its life, bringing that person nothing but misery. VAN-HI’TE’ will live for two thousand five hundred and fifty six days”
“That’s seven years, Joseph”, Mike said slowly, “Seven years bad luck if you break a mirror.”
Joseph looked sceptical.
“You aren’t falling for any of this nonsense are you? The old man was senile…probably read too many books or watched too many films.”
Joseph made a good point – he was still viewing this rationally.
It’s just one mans fractured thoughts penned, most likely, in a moment of madness.
Fosters’ mental health had been doubted for some time by Joseph and the house was evidence of that too.
Probably ended up believing his own hype until he scared himself, quite literally, to death.
“Don’t let them notice you?” Joseph said, “Don’t be vain more like…don’t spend your time in the mirror all day, doing your hair and preening yourself!”
It did sound a bit far-fetched Mike thought, although something in Josephs last comment resonated within him.
“Vain?” Mike replied, “Vanity…” he trailed off, looking back down at the book.
Even if all this was just the ramblings of an old man, one thing still bothered him, and that was the house itself.
Joseph had mentioned that he always felt depressed and moody after spending any time here and the way Mike felt couldn’t be explained away easily.
Since he had entered the house he had felt negative, confused and nauseous.
“Joseph?” started Mike, “When you came round to visit George, where did you spend most of your time?”
“I guess it was mainly in the living room and kitchen…we had a cup of tea and chat down there”, Joseph replied.
“So you were always in the main house and never up here in this room?” Mike said.
Joseph appeared a little confused.
“Ever since I have been in this room, I haven’t felt bad. My headache hasn’t gone, but it hasn’t got any worse. I don’t feel as depressed or nervous”, Mike stated excitedly.
“This room is at the back of the house, there is an open vent in that wall and the window is broken so the air flows very well in here.”
Joseph agreed, but couldn’t see where Mike was going with this.
“We need to find the boiler…for the central heating. Any idea where that is Joseph?”
Joseph thought about it for a moment.
“Kitchen”, he said, “Just at the back of the kitchen by the door to the living room.”
Could it be that simple, Mike thought?
The feelings of depression, the nausea, fainting and the dizziness were all symptoms of Carbon Monoxide poisoning.
You could guarantee that the boiler hadn’t been serviced in years and had to be the source of the problem.
“We need to switch the boiler off”, Mike said to Joseph, “I reckon that’s what has been causing these physical feelings. It could have been happening for weeks. All this other stuff, these books and the way he was feeling…that’s all unrelated, that’s just Foster losing his mind.”
As they stood to leave the room Joseph looked around and noticed his sword on the floor next to the bed.
“That’s lucky. I’m having that back before I leave”, he said, “Don’t want any one stealing that!”
They left the bedroom and walked past the barricaded doors on the landing.
Mike glanced up at the woodwork again to look at the inscription.
REV XX /III
It still bugged him but now was not the time to think about it; every moment they spent in this house was potentially life threatening – they had to get the boiler powered down and the gas switched off at the mains.
Joseph led the way into the kitchen and pointed out the boiler to Mike; judging by the age and condition of it, the boiler was no longer guaranteed to be safe.
Mike powered the boiler down and followed the gas main back to the hallway where he stemmed the flow to the house.
It was vital that the residual gas cleared as soon as possible, so they left the house and Mike locked the front door behind them.
“I will get an inspection carried out on the boiler Joseph. It may be that was the reason, but we won’t know until we have checked that out, “Mike stated, “The symptoms are all there though.”
“It’s a shame to think it might have been something as simple as a boiler that killed him off”, Joseph said, “He really let that place go…it was a right shame.”
Joseph stood at the end of the pathway and leaned on the gate, gathering his composure. He stretched his back and looked back up at the house.
“Come back over for a cuppa if you like” he signalled to Mike, “unless you have to rush off that is?”
Mike looked at his watch; five minutes wouldn’t hurt, besides, he felt that he had earned it.
6:19pm – De Fumo in Flammam
Joseph brought the drinks through to the living room and settled them down on a small table near the fireplace.
“Bet you’ve earned that today haven’t you mate?”
Mike nodded and thanked him.
He took a sip and put the drink back down on the table.
“Joseph”, he began, “Do you remember the inscription above the door on the landing? Did you see it at all? “REV XX/III?”
“What do you suppose it meant? I can’t think of anything obvious right now.”
“Why on earth would he have barricaded the doors like that? He must have been completely delusional.”
Joseph thought about it for a moment then his face lit up with a smug grin.
“The Bible I reckon”, he began smugly, “Revelations? Chapter 20 verse 3?”
“I have an old King James Bible in the cupboard, you can take a look. I find it gives me comfort from time to time…George was the same.”
Joseph opened the cupboard door and, after a few seconds of rummaging around he produced a small, dog-eared Bible.
“Revelations is at the back”, he smiled, suspecting that Mike was not much of a Bible reader.
Mike sat back in his chair and thumbed to Revelations. He found the verse in chapter 20 and read it out:
“And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season.”
Mike thought about that for a moment.
He cast his mind back to something Joseph said earlier, before they went to the house – something about the mirrors.
“Joseph, did you say that there were lots of mirrors in the house? The reason I ask is that I don’t recall seeing any while I was in there.”
Joseph pondered the question.
“You know what, that’s right. There used to be loads of mirrors, at least two or three in each room. But yes, you have a point there lad, I don’t remember seeing any when we went over there just.”
It started to fall into place now for Mike.
The boarded up room; that was to keep something in, not out – the scripture above the door showed that it was a prison.
Foster must have been so obsessed with not seeing the mirrors that he locked the mirrors in that room so that he didn’t have to look at them.
Mike suddenly realised that he was starting to believe the story. He knew deep down that these were just the ramblings of a senile, certainly delusional old man. There can’t be any truth in it.
His mind was cloudy in Fosters house, but now that he was out of that environment, - now that he was thinking stra
ight – he was able to bring back to mind the subtle nuances, the small pieces that mad the bigger picture.
He remembered hearing a sound in the house; a high pitched, cracking sound – that loud thump…what was that?
And that shadow he thought he saw in the back bedroom – did he actually see that or did he imagine it?
Fluorescent light tubes – they were diffuse so bore no reflection so maybe that’s why Foster had them in the house.
Nothing he had encountered in that house had a reflective surface, so nothing could be used as a portal for anyVAN-HI’TE’.
He was getting carried away with it all now – he was a sensible person and this was simply ridiculous thinking.
“Are you ok officer?” said Joseph, “You seem a little distant.”
“Yes fine Joseph”, Mike replied, completely lacking conviction, “Guess it’s been a long day; it will be good to get back.”
“Well, some good has come out of today”, Joseph said as he walked out to the kitchen, “At least I managed to get my sword back.”
He walked back in to the living room with the sword and stood in front of the fireplace.
Taking the sword out of its sheath he hung it back up in its original place on the wall.
“There we go”, he said, “Isn’t it a beauty; over 100 hundred years old is that.”
Mike walked over to inspect it closely, the highly polished surface of the sword reflected the light beautifully.
His heart raced and he recoiled in abject terror when he saw the vile, hollow eyes of the black hooded figure reflected in its surface, staring straight back at him
© Ian Gessey 2015