The Legend of Darklore Manor and Other Tales of Terror (17 page)

     "The dreams aren't real," I retorted. "They're not psychic visions, they're just nightmares. Like I said, I'm having them too."
     Sandra shook her head. "No, Pam. Trust me, if you had seen the things that I've seen, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
     Sandra stepped into the living room and lit a fresh votive candle to replace one that had burned down. "In my dreams, it's as if I'm there again, inside Darklore Manor. The sights, the sounds—everything seems so real. I've been keeping a chronicle of them." She opened an antique cabinet and ran her fingers over a large rack of cassette tapes marked with various dates and pulled out a tape labeled 10-31-68. "This one ought to interest you." She placed the tape into a cassette player, then pressed the play button.
     "It begins in the library." Sandra's recorded voice sounded hoarse as she began her deposition. "The central bookcase creaks away from the wall and the secret door opens to reveal a narrow stone staircase leading down into darkness. A hidden chamber deep below the manor conceals long-buried secrets of arcane rites. Ancient tomes and tattered scrolls hold forbidden rituals of black magic. Strange inscriptions cover the stone walls and mark the final resting place of those lost and forgotten. Skeletal remains line the walls of the ancestral vault, a grim testament to those who did not escape this living nightmare. A sinister confession from long ago reveals that there is no rest for the wicked.
     "Sacred candles burn as a beacon, summoning restless souls to the séance. That which has lain dormant for so many years has been awakened from its deathly slumber. Beyond the midnight hour, dread things arise from the shadowy depths. Buried and forgotten long ago, darkness immortal has been unleashed. Ancient incantations echo throughout the forsaken crypt. Resurrected from the grave, it hungers for life once more.
     "There will be no returning on this night. Nothing will ever escape these walls again."
     After a moment of silence, Sandra pressed the stop button.
     "This doesn't prove anything," I said, "but it's made me see things clearly. The last thing I ever wanted to do was go back inside that house, but seeing you this way made me realize that I'd rather face my fears than end up like this." I gestured to the surrounding shrines that stood as monuments to Sandra's fear and paranoia.
     "We left part of ourselves in that house," I said, "and whatever is in that place has latched onto us. It's been wearing us down like a wolf stalking wounded prey. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like a frightened little rabbit hiding in its hole." I was surprised by the intensity of the anger in my voice. "We're not living, Sandra, we're just existing. I want my life back and if it means risking my neck, then so be it. We need to go back."
     A look of terror swept across Sandra's face. "I'm not going anywhere. We were lucky to make it out of there the first time. If you go back, you're risking more than your life." Sandra's voice grew louder. "Now it's awake, and it's loose inside that house. It's much stronger than it was before, but it's still hungry. It won't be denied this time, and it won't ever let you go."
     "I have to do something!" I shouted. "I can't live like this. I don't want to be haunted by this thing anymore."
     "Do you really want to know what happened to those kids that night? Do you want to hear all the horrific details of everything they encountered in their final hours? Because if you're actually considering going back in there, I think you should know exactly what will be waiting for you."
     My eyes welled with tears as I turned to leave. "Goodbye, Sandra."
     "They snuck into the house through a window," Sandra whispered. "There were three of them—dressed in black from head to toe. Andrea Mather, James Murphy and Eric Shipley. They brought flashlights and candles to light their way, just like we did. But they had something we didn't. They had the key to the door in the library."
     I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face her as she continued her tale.
     "They made their way through the cobwebbed halls into the library. Andrea placed the key in the lock and twisted it, then James pulled the heavy bronze door open. Without hesitating to consider the consequences of their actions, they foolishly descended the winding staircase into the dank regions far beneath the mansion.
     "The trio emerged in a large circular vault that held a macabre treasury of arcane relics. As they scanned the chamber with their flashlights they began to distinguish strange inscriptions covering the walls, and the skulls of humans and animals slowly emerged from the surrounding shadows. A weathered stone altar and pedestal inscribed with runic designs stood in the center of the room. Andrea stepped closer to examine a worm-eaten book of ancient spells, which sat open upon the pedestal. Beside the decayed tome, a large ceremonial dagger rested alongside a smaller blade that looked like an ornate straight razor.
     "On the wall opposite the entrance, a wide stone corridor led further into the darkness. James and Eric boldly set forth to explore the tunnel but found that after a short distance the passage ended abruptly at a door of solid granite. An inscription above the doorway marked the sealed chamber as the Darklore burial vault. They strained against the heavy stone slab in an attempt to gain access to the crypt, but their best combined efforts had no effect on the impenetrable door. Realizing that they could go no further, they returned to the main chamber where they had left their friend.
     "Andrea lit several candles and placed them around the room, illuminating the gloomy vault in a dim yellow glow. The boys watched as she drew a large circle on the dusty stone floor, then traced a triangle inside it. She quickly surrounded the design with mystical symbols, copying a diagram from an old piece of parchment she had brought with her. When she was done, she set three black candles around the circle at the points of the triangle. The three teens sat on the floor around the ritual circle and joined hands as Andrea invoked the spirit of Belladonna Darklore.
     "As she spoke, subtle whispers echoed from the surrounding shadows, as if in response to her commands, and a swirling mist began to materialize in the center of the circle. The three sat speechless as the mist began to expand and take the form of a woman shrouded entirely in black. The dark apparition hovered above them for a moment, then slowly drifted down the corridor that led to the Darklore crypt, vanishing into the shadows that concealed the tomb door. The sound of stone grinding against stone issued forth from the darkness, and then the air grew deathly cold as low laughter echoed from the tunnel. The candles grew dim and expired one by one as if some unseen hand were deliberately extinguishing them.
     "The trio sprang to their feet and hastened to leave the unhallowed underworld of Darklore Manor. Their flashlights spared them from being trapped in total darkness as they searched for the staircase that led back to the surface. They stumbled toward the exit, but stopped in their tracks when they realized they were not alone in the chamber.
     "A small figure loomed before them. It stood on the narrow staircase, blocking their way. An eerie halo of writhing shadows encircled its petite form and its red eyes glistened like blazing rubies in the darkness. It was the doll.
     "Eric cautiously extended a trembling hand toward the porcelain figure. He picked the doll up to examine it closely, and as he did, the sinister toy twisted in his grip, opening its mouth wide. He screamed in terror as the doll dug its tiny teeth into his palm, biting down hard and drawing a stream of blood from his flesh. Eric shook his arm violently, sending the doll careening into the shadows across the chamber. Andrea and James tried to run for the stairs, but before they could make their escape, the surrounding shadows seemed to come alive. Spectral forms made of black mist rose from the spot where Eric's blood had spilled.
     "A tall shadow lashed out toward Eric, hitting him in the chest, thrusting him backward and knocking him off his feet. A claw-like hand emerged from the spectral mist and crept across the bloodstained floor toward the dazed boy. Before he could get up, long black fingers ending in sharp talons grabbed him by the jaw and held his head against the floor. He struggled in vain against the phantom arm that pinned him to the ground. The ghostly hand twisted his head to the left, and he watched in horror as a small figure stepped out of the shadows. His eyes widened as they met the burning gaze of the sinister doll once more. The living toy jerked toward him, clutching the straight razor in its hands. He kicked and struggled as the porcelain figure advanced closer and closer toward his face. The doll's tiny lips drew back to expose its bloodstained teeth, forming a wicked grin upon the crackled porcelain. He screamed for help as the gleaming blade descended upon him again and again.
     "James tried to help his friend, but the shadows rose to engulf him. The black mist encircled him, ensnaring him in its sinister grasp. The smoky coils twisted around him, constricting their grip. It lifted him off the ground, squeezing the breath out of his lungs and crushing his ribcage. His eyes bulged with terror as the sickening sound of cracking bones echoed off the walls of the stone chamber.
     "Andrea retreated into the furthest reaches of the crypt, stumbling through the darkness in her attempt to escape the nightmare that was unfolding around her. Soon her friend's shrieks ended, leaving her alone in the tomb's unnerving silence. Her quivering hands fumbled to light a match and when her eyes adjusted to the meager flickering light she found herself inside the Darklore family tomb. The heavy stone slab that sealed the chamber had somehow been cast aside and she had blindly entered the deepest reaches of the crypt.
     "In the flame's dim glow, she could see the skeletal remains of three bodies. The withered form of a woman in a tattered black gown rested on a marble slab in the center of the room and two other decayed corpses lay on the floor. Andrea crept toward the skeletal figure that lay in a deathly repose upon the black marble altar, realizing that the desiccated corpse could be none other than Belladonna Darklore. As she neared the body, her match burned down, extinguishing her lone source of light and as she nervously hastened to strike a new match, an unsettling noise echoed from somewhere within the confines of the pitch black tomb. The sound of whispered laughter emanated from the shadows, chilling her to the bone. Andrea quickly lit another match then froze in place in front of the empty altar. Staggering backward, she gasped in horror and turned to face the cadaverous form of Belladonna which now stood between her and the only exit. A horrible smile formed on the corpse's withered lips as she brandished the sacrificial dagger from the ritual pedestal, raising it in front of her rotting face. Andrea screamed and recoiled in terror, dropping her match to the floor. The flame expired, plunging her into the consuming blackness of the crypt amidst a torrent of bloodcurdling shrieks. Then the tomb fell silent once more."
     When Sandra finished her tale, she turned to face me. "There you have it," she said, "believe it or not."
     Her horrific story was incredible, but I believed every word. As I stared deep into her hollow eyes I reflected upon my past and came to a stark revelation. My life to this point had been a series of conditioned responses. Whenever I felt threatened, I had always run away to hide from my fears. But now I was tired of running. It was time to take a stand. And even though I understood the full extent of the horrors that dwelled within the manor, I was determined to return and confront them.
     "I'm not the same person I was four years ago," I said. "I've learned a thing or two about exorcising demons, whether real or imagined."
     "I see," Sandra said, sighing heavily. "I wish I could help you."
     "Maybe you can. I've been curious about something for a long time now."
     "What's that?"
     "The day we were inside the mansion, when we encountered the spirit of Damon Darklore on the staircase, he whispered something to you. What did he say?"
     Sandra closed her eyes, trying to recall the exact words. "He said 'Dust and shadows cannot die,' then he whispered, 'More blood must be spilled.'" Her voice trembled as she repeated the ominous message.
     Without fully comprehending the meaning of the cryptic words, I committed them to memory for the bleak mission that lay ahead of me. Before I left, Sandra gave me a tearful hug and repeated how sorry she was for everything that had happened. As I walked out the door, I realized that I would probably never see her again.
The trip back to Gloucester was strangely enlightening. Along the way, Theo shared a wide range of conspiracy theories regarding the manor, the Darklore family, the Knights of Thule and the good citizens of his home town. He also reminisced about his three friends. He told me that Eric wanted to be an actor and James loved sports. I couldn't bring myself to tell him about Sandra's vision of what happened to them inside the mansion.
     "Andrea was more into it than the others," he said. "She told everyone that she was a descendant of Cotton Mather, the witch who was hung during the Salem trials. She read a lot of books on black magic and the occult. We saw an old photograph of Belladonna Darklore once and told her that she looked like her."
     As Theo continued to talk, I pretended to listen, but my mind wandered to thoughts of how this all tied into what Sandra had told me. Somehow, everything seemed to center around Belladonna, but I couldn't piece it together.
     "I'm curious, Theo. Why didn't you ever go to the police?"
     Theo gazed out of the car window, his face stony and somehow older than his years. "I don't trust them. They're part of the conspiracy. They've been covering up the truth for years."
     "When Pamela and I were in Gloucester, Sheriff Hill seemed genuinely concerned about..."
     "Don't let him fool you," Theo interrupted. "He's the worst one."
     "Why do you say that?"
     "He's the one who found Councilman Franklin's body hanging in the manor. Rumor has it that Franklin left a suicide note that said, 'Forgive me for my sins,' or something like that, but the official report says that there wasn't any note. The sheriff's hiding something."