The old man was in the rocking chair smoking his long pipe, this time it had blue smoke coming out.
“Have you figured it out?” Pedro asked.
“Most of it is incomplete, but I know you must be centuries older than me,” Dom said.
“Or are you a descendant?”
“The one who wrote the memento was a man who thrives for self-ambition and selfishness,”
“Who could that be?”
“His name is Ramon Desylvia…also known as the vampire of greed,”
“The man from my dreams!”
“If you met this man, it’s clear that you are important to him, like prey,”
Dom rethinks the event where the owls came before Ramon tried to shoot the thread.
“Prey!” Dom said.
“Like a hunter, if you get spotted, he never tends to let you go until you’re either dead or gone,” Pedro said. “Avoid him until you solve your current problem.”
“Does he have a bone to pick with you old man?”
“It’s far personal, but the outcome is too scarce…for my survival,”
“Don’t say it,”
“Go get some rest! I’ll stay here to keep a lookout,”
Dom went back to bed, while the old man kept his eyes fixed on a starless night, checking his arm, but this time finding his flesh melted into a creamy liquid, while his muscles remain steady. Pedro begins to travel through his mind, seeing his master at a cult that involves a ritual. Then something went wrong, as his master’s face mutated into the reddish skin, and then burning from an unknown source of the blue fire. Eventually turning into ashes, the hex carried them away as the cult cheered through his agony.
Pedro vanquish his memories and continue looking out the window, “The boy must never know…,”
It was daytime; Dom rose up from the bed checking if the old man got any sleep. Instead, the rocking chair was empty, and a bag with items stood by the table near the candlestick. Pedro came behind Dom carrying a machete to the table, with a cross along with it.
“What is the meaning of this?” Dom questioned.
“Stuff,” the old man said.
“No time to explain, take it.”
Pedro handed him the machete, which had a shining silver blade, and the hilt was wrap with an old cloth.
“Silver?” Dom asked.
“Looted it from one of the corpses at the manor, try not to lose this one it will keep you alive…so use it wisely,” Pedro said.
“Are you not coming with me?” Dom said.
“I’m too old to scout these tasks, and you will manage better,”
“Right…what task though?”
“Head back to that cabin and look for the floor below,”
Dom remained frozen and contemplated Pedro for a moment.
“Is there a problem?” the old man wondered.
“There might be, I felt a powerful presence down there,” Dom said.
“I’m aware; I stored a charm inside that bag so you could pass through the barrier,”
“Barrier?”
“It protects the door and creates self-indulging fears to anyone, and behind it is the unknown; I’ve never been to that place myself, but you should be cautious.”
“But what’s the reason for going back there?”
“An owl statue is up there, and I need it to destroy Madame Amora,”
Dom felt his back being touch and scraped by an owl claw after hearing that creature’s name. After been gazed upon those eyes, he wishes to die rather than confront the woman in red.
“I understand, your mind wishes to rid of that being,” Pedro said.
“Take these supplies and return to me with that statue so I may kill her.”
“Fine! Not sure if I could promise my return,” Dom said.
“Have faith; don’t let the devil laugh at you. I know you are scared, I could feel it in your heart, but I am too weak right now to accompany you, it is up to you to finish this task.”
Dom holstered the blade into the bag and placed it on his back, and then left the man behind as his heart slowly began to ache.
Chapter 5
The Owl and the Spirit
Dom arrived at the cottage finding it untouched, even the scraps of hardware still scattered on the ground. He enters the open door armed with a machete, wearing the charm around his neck tightly making sure it would not fall off. Checking the bedroom first, the blood splatters on the wall faded, including the demonic messages and the sinister looking face on the floor. His luggage decimated, only leaving small pieces of scattered cloth.
The trap door remains uncovered; Dom takes a deep breath and exhales, asking one last prayer for his protection, then moves below the basement. The wooden door stood at the end; Dom felt his heart already pumping, as his mind clouded with unknown predicaments.
Dom tightens his fist and opens the door, inside he found a pure black of a blind unknown. He began walking into a forgettable risk, his footsteps echo loudly through, wondering how much further. He tried to reach the end until his ears register a thump; using his hands to feel around, no walls were surrounding the rears. Soon the only sound came from his insides, while the echo vanished minutes later.
Few steps more, and a light illuminated his vision, and a room stumbled upon his end, leaving behind the darkness that shows nothing of the basement, he came.
The room had fancy marble walls; the tables were full of antiques and an odd looking trio of candlesticks that had its wax twisted into loops.
The space itself was small, no other doors can be seen, but something called his attention; a bizarre red phone on a roundtable with a matchbox stood against the wall. Dom approached the table to check the phone and grabbed the matchbox to light the candles. Once he did, the phone began ringing loudly, making him jump and accidentally spill the matches of his hand.
Dom stared at the phone, deciding whether if it was wise to answer it.
“Hello?”
The only thing coming through his ear was someone breathing heavily and laughing softly. Therefore, he hung up the phone and made sure no one snuck behind him.
“Damn place.”
Few second later, the phone rang again; Dom answered it, hoping it would not be someone breathing into the phone.
“What do you want?”
“A naïve boy walked along a path of a cornfield, soon realizing a betrayal amongst relatives, as his family was found dead in a farmhouse, a blood trail lead to a shocking truth, Hehehe…” A voice said.
Dom slammed the phone breaking it into chunks. He looks around the room with paranoia, worried if someone is out there to rid of him. The dark path soon disappears closing its possible route of escape.
Dom picks up the matchbox to light the candles. The burning smell felt nasty as if it made out of someone’s carcass. He waits for the unexpected to happen but nothing did. Only the odor grew stronger which made him almost throw up.
The strange phone reappeared fix as he looks away, everything except the table, this time a small square table held the red phone. Suddenly, the candle wax turn pure black with the flames change into a thick white color. The room shook violently, and everything fell, Dom shifted his eyes around making sure to avoid a hit by any of the objects. Then a roar cracks the ceilings, while walls destroyed any objects around, Dom covered his ears as blood flow through them.
Instantly, everything stopped, and the candles put out its flame. Dom carried himself off the floor to spot an owl statue sitting between the candlesticks. Then, the sound came back into effect; it made him deaf as his nerves absorbed the pain, he squirmed on the floor hearing the roar.
“For the love of Christ…make it, stop!”
His vision shook crazily as his head was about to explode, Dom attempted to stand up, but the pain was too intense to hold. Forcing himself off the floor to seize the statue, the roar silence instantly, leaving him with cut-open ears and bloodshot eyes.
He tries to examine the statue think
ing if this was the source of his agony, it recalled the memories of the day when the door tortured him with horrible nightmares. The statue felt soft like human skin, and its figure resembled the owls at the mansion.
“If I ever get back, one thing is for sure…screw owls!”
He put it away in the bag and focused on staying alive until finding a way to get out of that infernal room.
“Everything sucks for you kiddo,” A voice laugh.
Dom slowly turns his head to see his deceased father standing next to him holding a bottle of whiskey.
“Hi!”
Dom quickly turns pale without believing his father was there, blaming his mind for giving such illusions.
“You thought I wasn’t coming back, well now here I am!” Father said.
“It’s impossible; I saw you die in front of me by those thugs,”
“My body may…as well be rotting below the grave, but my soul will always be alive,” He took a sip out of his whiskey bottle, as Dom rub his eyes.
“Behind you Dom!” Father warns.
Dom turns to see a puddle of water forming on the floor and something emerged out of it. A creature surfaced with white eyes and wet dark skin. Dom kneeled to swing his machete, cutting its long fingers into the floor, sending it back to the puddle. The creature screech as it plunges back down and everything became silent for now, but the pool of water remains present.
“Oooooh! Nice one! Must have learned it from me when I swung that bottle at you,” Father said. “But it’s all in the past; you might get it.”
Ignoring his fathers’ haunting words, Dom gazes into the puddle checking if anything is in it, then suddenly a claw reaches out and pulls him into the water. He struggled to break free from its grasp, as its gripping hands wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold. The creature’s eyes became yellow, as it turned aggressive. Dom thrust his machete into the creature, and a blue fluid flowed freely into the water.
Dom felt the grip around his neck finally loosening, so he kicks the creature away, swimming faster to surface for oxygen.
“Thank God! Uhhh!” Dom climbs out of the puddle and found the pathway open again.
“Sorry but…I was too scared to do something about it, besides it was either you or me, but luckily you survive,” Father said.
“Shut up you swine, I can’t believe a son of a bitch like you would torment me,” Dom said.
He passed through the illusion ignoring the words told out.
“Your mother isn’t here for some reason? Hmm…wonder why?”
“Where is mom?” Dom questioned.
“Hehehe…got your attention. You see I don’t know maybe she’s somewhere in a ditch in hell,”
“Arghh!” Dom swung the machete across his father passing through his torso, but no damage dealt.
“Oh my! You tried to cut me, besides I’m already dead dumbass hehehe,” the ghost mocked him, but Dom prevailed and exited the room carrying the mysterious statue behind his back.
Returning to the basement, he ran up the steps squeezing through the hole and walking out of the cottage, feeling relief as his visit below ended. “Old man…I’m coming back,” Dom direct his way back to the old man’s cabin by taking the route to the woods.
“Who’s this old guy you mutter about?”
Dom watched his father leaning against a tree while swirling his bottle around, tapping his foot, this confuses him, thinking it was one of the illusions made by Ramon to torment him as punishment.
He continues his way back, ignoring the spirit to figure out a way to tell the old man about it. “Dad, if you’re here, why now by all means…in a place like this?” Dom exits the woods and returns to Pedro’s cabin, but not before taking a moment to check the area making sure nothing follows him before entering.
The old man was in his rocking chair puffing that weird blue smoke from his pipe.
“You return…did you find it?” He said softly.
Dom gave him the statue as Pedro extinguishes his pipe to swipe it away. “Yes, this is it!”
Pedro look and observe Dom’s expression finding much more than tension, but discovering a disturbance around him.
“Tell me, boy, is there something you meant to ask me, no fear in hiding secrets now, tell me,”
“…I see my father’s spirit roam; it follows me everywhere I go.”
The old man looks around the room finding a man waving at him from the hallways.
“I see! A man carrying liquor bottle with drunken smear,”
“Old man you see him too!”
“The gods granted me with the sixth sense; I could see all,”
“Then can you remove him from me?”
“It’s possible but difficult; you were cursed by the statue because you carry sorrow,”
“Sorrow?”
“Certain grief remains living deep inside your heart, which is why this curse was placed upon you…to punish you with grief.”
The trail of bottles were the only things preserving a recollection of his worst experiences. The time when his father used him as a toy for practice, glass shards stuck to his face for days. Whenever it happened, his father boasted loudly, finding it as a funny joke.
“To destroy it, you must find self- resolution to your grief,”
“What do you mean?”
“Find forgiveness…to yourself and those who are not living anymore.”
Dom begins thinking about the past, finding horrid passages, unsettling and unforgivable; the emotions turn to rage, as most actions his father committed were all meant to be unforgettable just for him.
“You hesitate in anger, tell me more of this father of yours,” Pedro said.
“Come on Dom, tell him everything about your most awesome dad,” The spirit said.
“It began in Illinois so many years ago, when I was ten years old at the time…my father used to smack me with a bottle of whiskey, during both my brother and mother watch. My mother always aids my bruises every time, but she suffered abuse, whenever she involves or gets in the way. My brother receives half of the punishment, because he fights back, and unbelievably, my dad enjoys it. On the contrary, I was too cowardly to defend myself; sometimes he would even call me a ‘Bitch’ or an ‘Empty piece of shit.’ One day masked men invaded our home, and my mother tried to hide us away, she and my father paid the price…death. The intruders found our hiding spot, and for some reason maybe it was luck or who knows… they spared our lives.”
“How did he died?” Pedro asked.
“I don’t know…I was too little to recall,” Dom sobs.
“I pity you; there is one way I could free you from the spirit, but only for a moment until we can find a permanent solution to your situation. I might have a potion to spare; it’ll weaken the curse for a while until you make amends.”
“Thanks! I would appreciate it.”
Pedro went into a room of his herbs and potions, to check his books for an ingredient on a specific alchemy. Dom gazes at his father’s spirit furiously as he stood silently with a smirk, waiting for an answer as he finished his whiskey bottle.
“Are you just gonna stand there! Talk!” said the spirit.
“Why do you deserve to torment me, I’ve suffered enough already,”
“Because my misery is greater than yours! Boy! I’ve been stuck in a frozen space for years without moving nor breathing, and you the one responsible,”
“Me! Why me! Are you kidding me now?”
The spirit threw an empty whiskey bottle towards his son shattering across his face. Dom felt his nose bleed, even the shards of glass that stuck on his face.
“You cannot do this…you’re only an illusion,” Dom implied.
“Nye! In here, I am real, and you shall not curse me any longer. As long our bonds are tied, I am always going to be on your ass, making sure you redeem yourself, but for now my son is the whiskey! Hehe! That makes me proud and happy.”
Dom removes the shards of glass off his face and rips a
piece of cloth from his sleeve to cover the nosebleed. The spirit disappeared from the hallway, leaving Dom to wonder if he will come back not just to haunt him, but also to torture his sanity. Even though, the realm where he was imprisoned contains lethal supernatural adversaries. He thought of checking on the old man, curious about how the potion is progressing, so Dom stood from the floor to peek into the alchemy door. He became stunned to find the old man’s face covered by a shadow. The use of many herbs to synthesize the potion and with the help of bizarre spells to conjure into his cauldron. Dom froze in the opening, as the old man then slowly turns to break his actions, transfixing his face to normality.
“Interesting specimens you have there,” Dom said nervously.
“Did anything happen, why is your nose plugged?” Pedro ask.
Dom began touching his face in a sudden panic, no longer feeling the pain and cuts from the whiskey bottle anymore.
“I feel…nothing…,”
“What was that?” Pedro said.
“Nothing important, is the potion almost ready?”
“Few more minutes.”
Dom waited outside the room sitting on the old man’s rocking chair; he even slept through the process as his fatigue took over. The night came in… and the wind howled loudly making the windows vibrate. The old man steadily poured the purple potion into a small vial.
He found Dom resting on his rocking chair, so he immediately woke him up by slapping behind his head.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
“No man shall nap on my chair but me!” Pedro said.
“Next time just tap or something, instead of smacking me ok! Thank you…”
“Eh! Whatever, now drink this vial…it will put down the curse for a while.”
Dom took the vial and gulped down without hesitation.
“Ew! Yuck!” Dom said. “Well, I guess you can’t expect everything to taste perfect.”
Pedro lifted the statue off the table to take it into his alchemy room,
“Where are you going?” Dom said as he followed him into the room. Pedro placed the statue down and searched through the drawers under his table, pulling a small rock dagger. He held the handle very tightly; next, he struck the statue with severe force. The blade broke, unfortunately, shattering into multiple pieces, “Hmm…I expected it to be hard as a boulder,” Pedro said. “It seems like we’re becoming short on resources.”
Behind the Lock Page 4