I ran…
Put that room behind me and fled down the hallway, recklessly descending the steps and bursting through the chambers until I had the open sky over my head once more. There hung the moon and the clouds yet, trees and grass swaying dreamily in the breeze. The world had not ended, and I was still alive, as proof to it all. I looked up at the house, shuddering. Here was a real, authentic haunted house, something utterly strange and unknown, which defied both logic and science. I didn’t know what Graver was, or entirely what had just taken place.
But I did understand the enslavement of Haverville and its people, at least to some extent. Graver possessed the power to take away pain, offer peace of mind to someone suffering, but in a poisonous, subtle, and evil way. And the price? Servitude to his will, whatever that may be…
Now what? My actions had failed to free the town from his hold, of this I was certain. I may have destroyed his body, but not his spirit. I didn’t even know if it had made any difference at all.
Pausing to catch my breath, I then noticed that something was different. Something…wait. The body…
It was gone! The thing that had been my mother was nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t killed it then? I looked all around, the night appearing empty. Shadows were everywhere, but there was enough light that I would have seen anything lurking nearby. My mind unraveled, so many emotions tearing through me.
It was gone. She was gone…
I didn’t know what to make of it. And there was nothing I could do about it regardless. Cursing, I stared over at the largest of the buildings, the very heart of Graver’s control over Haverville. Light spilling forth eerily from the windows, I knew it was humming with activity inside.
I nodded to myself, knowing that it was time to test its secrets.
—
Quickly I moved, feeling that my luck was running out. I don’t know what I’d expected to happen once I returned here, but it certainly wasn’t this. Graver wasn’t dead, of that I was certain. Maybe he’d never really been alive, in the normal sense, at least. Just one more unanswered question. I reached the side of the larger building, crouching down in the high grass at its side. Memories flashed through my head, going back to that fateful night ten years ago.
Ten long years.
It felt like yesterday.
Maybe I’d never left but was trapped in some terrible nightmare without end. That possibility startled me, but I shook it off.
Gun in hand, I decided on a direct approach. What more did I have to lose? Well, I still had my own life, even if I couldn’t save anyone else. I didn’t want to lose it, but I was determined to give everything I had regardless of the cost to myself. I passed a number of windows, and from within I caught glimpses of shadows, furtive movements, as the occupants moved about, their purposes sinister and unknown.
Or soon to be known…
I recalled looking into the building before, seeing all the people working on machines, many recognizable. Would it be the same now?
I reached the large doors, pausing. Breathed deeply, preparing myself for whatever waited inside. Here was the deepest and darkest secret imprisoning the town and its people, with Graver as the dreaded warder. I was permanently scarred by his evil and had no intention of shying away at this point. It was too late for that. I’d caught a glimpse before of what lay inside, but now I was going in myself.
The moment had arrived.
The handle moved easily, welcoming me inside. The panel felt warm as I pushed it, and then I entered, knowing that I might not be able to leave. But this revelation wasn’t new, and time was slipping.
My eyes adjusted to the light, which was cast off by lanterns dangling from the ceiling. Hundreds of them. Or more…
It was an incredible sight.
And horrifying…
Crates and barrels were everywhere. People were everywhere. Standing at machines, sitting in chairs, pushing boxes. It had the look of a factory of some type, but primitive, lacking modern technology. And another thing that struck me was the size of the interior. It looked immense, the inside much too large in comparison to its exterior dimensions.
Impossible…
The ceiling was far overhead, and I couldn’t make out the construction. It wasn’t wood or anything else I could identify. As I stared at it longer, it took on the appearance of something occurring naturally, as if I were underground. Great points jutted downward like icy teeth, and I swear that they looked like stalactites from a cave, massive and ponderous. In the distance the lights continued and throngs of people bustled about, so far that I couldn’t see the end of it all. I felt light-headed, my logic overwhelmed by the impossibility of what I was looking at. Nothing made sense, and it seemed the more I saw, the stranger everything became.
I walked forward, and no one took notice of me. They ignored me as if I didn’t exist, all of them intent on their own particular job or project. I thought I recognized several, but there was no way all these people came from Haverville.
The town simply didn’t have this type of population.
And some of the people…
…were different.
In dress and appearance. Why, some wore clothing that looked turn-of-the-century, even Colonial, with vests and hats that hadn’t been in style for nearly two hundred years. Side by side with people dressed in modern attire, there was no differentiation in culture, age, or gender. There were people here from various backgrounds, even some in full Native American garb, as if they’d just leaped off the Great Plains from hunt, rushing to come here, of all the forsaken places in the world.
I blinked several times, too astonished to formulate any coherent thought, walking dumbly ahead, my gun now hanging at my side. I continued on, shaking my head at my surroundings. I kept going this way for what had to be several minutes, neither talking to anyone or being approached. I was a nonentity—like all of them. Except for one thing. I was here on my own. These people had no choice in the matter. Or maybe they’d made their choice, and were now enslaved by the consequences. But I couldn’t forget why I’d come back, and my anger returned in a rush. Even if everyone here had accepted whatever Graver offered, none could have foreseen the lifetime of slavery ahead of them. Through deceit, he’d won them over. Completely.
In a rash move, I pointed my gun in the air and fired, screaming at a group to my left.
One or two looked my way, but that was it. No other reaction.
Did they have any free will left, or where they all just lifeless husks, pawns of Graver?
I feared the worst.
I then ran, moving recklessly ahead, shouting at anyone near me, but it made no difference. I was only one person in an ocean of mindless servitude, and my presence was insignificant. At one point I stopped, shaking a man by his shoulders, telling him to wake up, snap out of it, you could still hope. He didn’t resist, but gazed at me with dead eyes.
“Break free! I’ll help you.”
He showed no emotion, but I knew he understood me.
“Respond, say something, anything!” I shouted at him. “It doesn’t have to be like this!”
It was useless. I might as well have been screaming at a wall. Then I looked past his shoulder, into the depths of this great structure, whatever it was, and saw something massive in the distance, looming upward like a behemoth. It looked like a pyramid.
A pyramid?
Mist swirled at its base, and there appeared to be thousands of people working before it, moving large objects, some stationed at machines, others standing and waiting.
It was too much for me…
I couldn’t comprehend what was taking place here. It simply defied every shred of logic my mind could fathom.
And then the assault came, and I was nearly defeated right there. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness overcame me, crushing me where I stood. I crumbled to the ground, going to my knees, my hands feeling the soft earth. I was meaningless compared to all this, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about
it all except to capitulate, give in. It would be so easy to end all the pain, wipe away the emotional stress, become numb to all the suffering around me.
So easy…
But then I knew. It was Graver’s touch, trying to break me again. Bring me into his fold. I had felt this attack before, and was ready for it this time. I wasn’t going to end up like the rest of these people. Never.
And in that moment I understood something else. There were some battles you couldn’t win, but that didn’t mean I was going to lose, either.
I moved, fighting to stand, and then ran back the other way from where I’d entered. I focused on only one thing then, and that was escape. I passed the multitudes of people, rushed past the mountains of crates and boxes and primitive machines with their operators, but I didn’t think about any of it. I only wanted to get out of there for good and save myself. I knew that outside was the real world, or at least the world I knew. In here was something too complex and far-reaching for me to understand. To remain inside would bring about either my own ultimate slavery or madness.
Either choice was unacceptable.
I don’t know how long it was until I finally breached those doors again and passed outside, slamming them shut. The cool air was a huge relief, and my skin had never felt something so sweet and reassuring.
I was still alive, and that meant a lot.
Never looking back or daring a glance at Graver’s farmhouse, I ran toward my truck, quickly getting in and firing the engine. Like all these people, I had made my decision, but it was one of life and hope.
I roared back up the road, stone and dirt flying in the truck’s wake, and I got out of there. This time there would be no going back. I hadn’t found a single answer to any of my questions, and I think deep down I already knew this. But I still had to try, and had one more thing to do…
I returned to my old house.
And like Graver’s place, it was haunted. All the ghosts of my past and present remained here. But not of the future. I would see to that. The front door was still unlocked, and I ran in, half expecting to be attacked by one of Graver’s guardians, but I was greeted only by silence and shadows. I moved farther into the house, watching as the curtains from the open window flailed about, like the tattered form of a wraith, too weak to resist the wind.
I went into the kitchen, phone in hand. It seemed like a useless act, and in reality it was, but I called every authority in the state and government that I found, giving them an address and a brief description of murder and violence. Soon I was done, and I hurried upstairs, going immediately to my dad’s bedroom. The door was closed and I opened it, going inside. Not daring to breathe, I saw his unmoving form on the bed.
He was still here. My heart felt lighter, knowing that he was alive, if not well, in both body and mind.
“Come on, Dad. I’m taking you to my home now. Our new home. It’s over.”
“Son, is that you? I need to wake up and get ready for work soon…”
I turned on the lamp by the bed, raising him toward me. His face bore no expression, but he didn’t resist as I led him onward, down the stairs and out of that place. As we passed through the dining room, I heard a sound then, like soft sobbing, coming from the open window. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and there was a soft rustling as of something large moving through the bushes surrounding the house.
I knew who it was.
And I also knew I couldn’t change what had been done. I whispered a silent prayer for her torment to end, and for her to find real peace at last.
Goodbye. I’ll always love you.
How much more could I take? I could barely see a few feet in front of me, blinded by tears.
We left.
My dad and I drove through the mountain roads, moving across the countryside in the late hours. Halloween hovered over Haverville, but every day was Halloween in this cursed town. Its homes and streets harbored secrets, shadows, and hidden horrors, with Graver watching over all.
We passed a number of emergency vehicles and state police cars along the highway leading to the town, sirens screaming in the night like banshees thirsting for vengeance. I knew they wouldn’t find what I had seen, but something had to be done, events put into motion that would stop Haverville from dying any more, even though it had been dead for a long time, its people joining the ranks of the others under Graver’s power.
I drove straight back this time, not stopping anywhere. It was a long ride, and my dad wasn’t much company.
But it didn’t matter. He was here with me, and his presence alone was all I needed to sustain myself in returning.
Home.
—
Rod, my dad, and I sat in the living room watching the news. My uncle shook his head in amazement, but I was silent, looking over at my dad now and then for any reaction.
There was none.
I knew the story hadn’t ended in Haverville. Changed, yes. News reporters swarmed all around the place, and government agents were everywhere. Half the town’s citizens were missing, and no one had any answers. Everything revolved around Farmer Graver’s place, but the only things to be found were empty barns and an abandoned farmhouse. In fact, there were no public records of anyone even called Graver or someone buying the property. Talk was about a cult, and possible mass suicide. The investigations were only beginning.
So over the next few days, things at Rod’s gradually settled down into a comfortable routine, as if we’d faced a monstrous storm and had come out on the other side, still licking our wounds. I helped him with the tail end of the fall harvest, working tirelessly into the night as we brought the farm back to steam. The weather stayed cool and dry, and autumn tumbled along, each passing day moving us further from October and Halloween.
—
My dad ended up in Mark’s old bedroom, and he spends his time now sitting in the rocker, sipping at his drink and slowly eating whatever snacks we leave him throughout the day. We check on him constantly, and have figured out that he’s well enough to take care of himself, but his mind isn’t totally there anymore. He never speaks about Haverville or working for Graver. And this is a huge blessing. I don’t think I could have taken it otherwise. So this is his new home, and both Rod and I understand that no medicine or doctor in the world will take better care of him than the two of us together. The room looks north, and this bothers me some, as he sits and stares into the distance, preferring to look in that direction. Maybe he still hears the wind whispering to him.
It’s a sad sight, forlorn and tragic. But I find comfort in his presence, and love him dearly. I’ll never stop trying to reach him, peel away those layers of fog and doom that lay on his heart and mind. Underneath it all he’s still my dad, and I’ll always be thankful that he’s with me now, regardless of his condition. Regardless of the past.
And what of Graver and Haverville?
It’s impossible for me to keep them both out of mind, and I know it’s not a healthy preoccupation to go down the road of denial. The events were real, fantastic as they were, and I can’t offer any reasonable explanation. I only know they happened.
Here’s what I believe…
There are ancient, unexplained things in our world. Our universe. I know the truth of good, and the reality of evil. It exists, and I’ve looked directly into its eyes. And I’ve thought about stories throughout history, where civilizations have disappeared, entire cultures vanishing without a trace. Mysteries without clues. I think Graver was involved.
I can’t say who or what he is, or what his plans are. They’re not good, that’s for certain. I have no idea what are in those crates, or the purpose behind those machines, or the importance of that enormous pyramid that seemed to be the center of their work.
I just don’t have any answers, and I really don’t want to know them.
And my own role in all this? I don’t think I played any part in it, to be honest. I’m as insignificant to Graver as an insect crawling across the wall. The time and place of his relo
cating were his choice and not a result of my calling in the authorities. The only thing that made me different from all the others is that for some reason he chose me for his own amusement, to see how much he could manipulate me until I broke. Does that mean I have qualities that proved me to be any stronger than the rest of those under his power?
Maybe.
Who can really say…It may have been a random choice. Perhaps he grows bored over time and needs to find someone new for his own perverse entertainment, a new set of bones to roll.
Regardless, there’s not a minute of any hour, of every day, of every week, that I don’t think about Graver and Haverville. But it’s not quite an obsession, more an incomplete understanding. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. I hope he’s done with me and my family, but that’s also a selfish wish, because that means he’s out there bringing his personal bit of hell to someone else.
Do I think he’s the devil?
No, but I wouldn’t be shocked to learn otherwise.
I do have some words of warning to anyone who hears my story. And it’s simply this—to be aware. There are forces at work in our world that defy comprehension, and the best option is to avoid them. Get the hell out of their way.
If you find yourself in an unknown part of town and things seem wrong to you for some reason, get out of there. If, while walking the carnival grounds along the outskirts of your hometown, you happen to meet up with a ringmaster who smiles too broadly, with eyes that mock, turn around and run for your life. When the autumn leaves fall and you hear your name being called across lonely fields, be afraid. And if, on a dare, your best friend wants to check out the local haunted house on Halloween night, don’t be tempted to go along. Instead, listen to your instincts warning you off, because it’s infinitely better to be called a coward than to walk down a path so dark you’ll forget what light even looks like anymore…
Halloween Carnival Volume 4 Page 14