The Curse of Havenswood House, Fifth Installment
This is the next to last installment of this supposedly "spooky” Halloween story. You can read First, Second, Third, and Fourth by clicking on the links. As I’m coming to the end, I have to ask myself, “Where did this come from, McKenzie?”
Setting aside her mask and lifting the hem of her gown, Aurora searched the walls until she found her way out of the ballroom. Finally reaching the stairs, she mounted the treacherous steps to her room, retrieved the key, and felt her way down to the cellar door.
Her hand shook as she fumbled for the lock, but before she could insert the key, it glided forward on its own. An arrow to the target, it plunged inside. With a click, the door released its vacuum seal, and an updraft swept out of the depths.
She had no time to escape. Filaments wrapped long fingers around her arms, and no matter how much she fought to free herself, it pulled her down into a coldness unlike any she’d ever felt. Behind her, the door slammed closed. The door slammed closed, ending all hope of escape
“At last.” A chilling presence engulfed her. It had no substance, yet it was repulsive.
Aurora kicked. She spat and clawed to free herself, but whatever held her, tightened its grip.
“You chose your prison.” Fetid breath brushed her cheek.
“No! I chose to end this curse and not wait in agony for years.” She shrank away from the sinister laughter that echoed around the room.
“No matter. You are mine now, my dear Aurora.”
“Get away from me, soulless creature!”
She felt a sharp slash like a knife blade at her waist, and pain radiated through her like lightning. A warm flush of blood spilled down her hip.
“Never say that! I’m a soul in torment. Betrayed. Humiliated.”
She fell to her knees and lost consciousness.
When her eyelids fluttered open, she stared into cold inkiness, unable to determine how long she had been here. Her arms ached, spread wide, and manacled to the stone wall. Assaulted by the coppery smell of drying blood, she fought back the bile rising in her throat. Pulling against her restraints only sent stabs of pain through her arms, and she collapsed against the cold wall.
“You are awake, I see.”
“Let me go. I did nothing to deserve your hatred.”
“Oh, you are so terribly mistaken, my dear.”
Something like a hand gripped her by the throat. Death permeated the dank air.
“I was a scientist on the verge of a great discovery when my life was cut short. Dead at only five and thirty. Shoved from the balustrade. Murdered by my loving wife, your great-grandmother, Elenor.” The hand released its grip.
“But...you aren’t dead!”
“I might as well be. I managed to crawl into the cellar in time to save my soul within these stones--something you will soon appreciate.”
For a moment, the only sound was labored, shallow breathing, then the house spoke again.
“You have much of my lovely wife in you. Your great-grandmother was more fire and iron than flesh and blood. The weak-kneed women that preceded you inherited the cowardly nature of dear Elenor’s lover.”
“How can you kill your descendants? What kind of beast are you?”
“You are no descendant of mine! There is not one drop of Havenwood blood in you or the others who came before you. My strumpet of a wife bore me no child.”
A stir of air brought a slowly increasing glow to the room. She gasped at the immense machine wrapped in a cobweb of wire that confronted her in this dim light. It snapped with an electrical charge, filling her nostrils with an acrid smell.
She struggled to free herself, but it was no use.
For a moment, a gentle hand brushed her cheek. “I’ve waited so long.” She shuddered at this new gossamer tone that scarcely masked the predatory one.
“Monster!” She choked back the tears. She would not give this thing the satisfaction of seeing her cower.
It didn’t respond. Instead, an ominous silence grew around her until her ears hummed with it. That silence ended with the snap of an electrical charge. It encircled her, tingling but not painful. Another. This time stronger like sharp needles stabbing her skin.
“Metamorphosis,” the voice hissed. “You are but a girl now. Shortly, you will be changed forever. Like me, you will become a part of this house. The house I built. The house I cherished and planned to pass on to my children. My revenge will be complete with the end of Elenor’s dynasty of bastards.”
“Let me go!” She twisted against the bruising restraints. A punishing wave of electrical pulses flashed through her. The wall at her back softened and like quicksand, drew her in—slowly, slowly—until only half of her body remained outside the wall. “No. Stop!”
“You are just not ready to accept, but you will. It won’t take long. After the pain, the process will be very like a chrysalis releasing a beautiful new form of itself. You will not live in Havenwood House; you will be it. Of course, I’ve only tested this creation on myself, so thank you for letting me confirm its brilliance.”
The machine spat and hissed. Arcs of fire shot around her. She screamed, no longer able to suppress the terror. Her body was on fire, her life draining from her.
Defeated, she lowered her head and waited to die.
What? No, this can’t be right. More writing. More writing. I think nineteenth-century Mary Shelley has influenced me! Also, I adore gryphons, so if I can figure out a way to write about them, I do. Now, I’m off to finish this tale. I hope to see you next week for THE END.
Well done! You do not disappoint.
Wow, Lee. You are the master of spook.
Sandra