Toil and Trouble (for diceroller4)

It was a dark and stormy night…

Lightning cracks through the sky and touches down to the tip of an old spire, briefly illuminating the coarse vantablack of the unlit outdoors. Through the pounding of the rain against the windows and doors of Kendall Manor, not a voice could be heard nor a person stirring; in fact, the only signs of life were the hooting of an owl, as if ominously warning any and all by-passers, “enter at your own expense.” The dirt path roads leading back to the old, dusty mansion must’ve been well over a few centuries old, and perhaps, it had been that long since the place was lived in. For decades, a ‘FOR SALE’ sign stuck out front. No buyers were bold enough to risk living within the halls of the old, long-dead previous owner.

Some say, her ghost still haunts the halls, sending anyone who tries to take over her land out with a death-defying spook. Others say an underground cult of witch-like fanatics have moved into the basement, shy from the light of day. Many even purport that the wildlife has stolen over the entire building, with plants ruling the walls with thick vines and shrubbery while deer, snakes, even bears make their homes in the old building that was built on the fallen trees of their ancestors. Alongside the several infesting bugs, of course - but almost everyone agreed on one thing. It was a creepy old house, and they had no desire to do business with it. It was on the outskirts of town, private property supposedly belonging to one of Kendall’s kin, so it couldn’t be demolished either. Thus, it was just sort of… left there. Waiting.

That didn’t leave the occasional visitor curious, or the every-so-often out-of-towner whose car might break down just outside it’s intimidating gates. From the outside, the dirt path snaked back to the manor’s arches like a tongue crept outside of a cruel mouth, two windows in the roof like eyes that stared down on anyone who dared enter.

[diceroller4]

Nancy Hubert scowled as she got out of her car. Her trusty yellow vehicle was normally so reliable. She had after all managed to cross most of the country in order to get to school and start on her journalism degree in that car. Now all it had to do was get her to this little out of the way town so she could have the best paper on an old small town legend and it decides to break down on her.

With a huff she pulls her black hat down against her head, trying to ignore the way the wind was blowing her black hair about. It had been a nice sunny day when she had left that morning, making her shortall a good choice for the weather, but she seemed to have driven into this storm out of nowhere. The sound of thunder overhead made her jump and she tried to hurry to lift the hood of her car.

After a few moments of pretending like she actually knew what the hell she was looking at Nancy sagged in defeat. It seemed that simply stare at the inner working of her vehicle would not in fact magically make her understand how it all worked or what was wrong with it. With a growl of frustration she slammed the hood back down and got back in the car.

After a few minutes of fruitless attempts she had confirmed that her phone was getting no service and she had no idea where she was. With a huff she grabbed the flashlight and a few other odds and ends from her glove box and got out. Making sure she had everything she might need in her purse she locked up the car and set out down the dirt road in search of civilization.

After about a quarter of an hour of walking Nancy was surprised to stumble across what appeared to be an abandoned mansion. “What the hell,” she whispered shining her flashlight over the signs and in the direction of the building before her. “No way.” Digging through her bag she pulled out a pictured and held it up and… yep that was the place she had planned to do her story on.

Letting out a small laugh at this odd twist of fate she stowed the picture away. She had meant start in town looking up public records but no one would really complain if she had a little glance inside first, right? Besides there might be a working landline inside, or some other way to call for help. That though in mind she hurried to the front door, holding tight to her hat as a fresh breeze tried to take it away.

“Hello,” she called as she knocked. “Is anyone here? I’m sorry but I broke down and the storm…” To accent her point a bolt of lightning seemed to flash by right above her. She barely held back a shriek before trying the door knob and finding it unlocked. “I’m just coming in to get out of the weather. I promise I won’t be a problem,” she called out as she stepped inside.

Had it not been for the darkness, obscuring the shadows of the ancient manor, it would’ve been clear to anyone – much less an amateur reporter – that the house had been abandoned. Overgrowth had crawled it’s way around the door’s mainframe, some windows cracked, others boarded up. Walls around the side had been slandered with graffiti, most of which strangely left unfinished. And yet, despite all these tale-tell signs of a thousand years of rot and decay… the chairs out front still rocked. Just the wind flowing through their old wooden planks, some might surmise.

The old-fashioned spittoon by the side, filled with still-steaming cigarette ashes, might raise a few eyebrows if it was noticed, though.

Light broke through the house as the door opened wide. Nancy’s voice echoed down the deep, dark hallways, giving way to the grand entrance; to begin, a narrow, bleak-looking hallway, with wood as dark as coal and blood red carpets adorning snow-white marble floorings. The carpet paved a path through the short hallway and ended in a pleasant living room. A rather small area, too, for a house so large – it sat merely a fancy, red chair, a stool with a gramophone off to its side, and a cup of piping hot coffee, recently brewed.

No one around to drink it, it seemed.

Lining the walls of the short hallway were a series of paintings all depicting familiar faces of the Kendall family line. From old, serious-looking soldiers to the more humble nuns and thread-weavers that made up a long, complex history for a family belonging to the past. The portraits, all black-and-white, seemed so soulless and chilling, a row full of eyes staring at Nancy as she first stepped in and all but asking her ‘please close the door, you’re letting a chill in.’

No such request was made. They were merely paintings, after-all.

This was the first impression that had made many kids and trespassers of the past turn tale, give up on embarrassing bets or decide to leave the mysteries waiting for another day. Those kids weren’t caught in a deadly storm… though it seemed like rain clouds shadowed the mansion at all times. And as Nancy would take her first step into the house… she would come to realize her stay was more extended than she might expect.

A blood-curling screech rang out behind her! Not the cry of a bat nor a tortured soul, but the scream of the rusted door-hinges, unused for over centuries of rot. The doors came slamming shut behind her without a soul in sight to have closed them.

The sound of a lock clicking in place followed after.

[diceroller4]

"Wow," Zoe whispered as she entered the old manor. It was like something out of a movie or book. "This place is perfect. Man I can't wait to get back, I'm going to blow the Prof away with my paper." As she spoke to herself she tucked the flashlight she had been shining about under her arm and pulled out her phone. "Just need a few pics to put things over the top."

That said she started to line up her first show when she heard the sudden sound behind her and jumped, letting out a surprised shriek as she dropped her flashlight to the ground. "Oh no no no," she called out her voice rising in volume as she lunged for her door. She heard her flashlight roll to a stop against something behind her but for the moment didn't care, too focused was she on struggling against the locked door.

"Well things just had to get worse," she grumbled with a sigh. Leaning her head against the door she for a moment she let out a frustrated sound before using the light function on her phone to search the door for a way to unlock it.

Try as she might - the door wouldn’t budge. The wooden frames had snapped together like the jaws of a hungry beast and the rest of the house was waiting patiently to be explored. As her back turned to the hallway, the weight of a thousand eyes would fall on Nancy’s back, like if there were someone else in the house with her - but there wasn’t. Merely paintings. She was alone.

As the flashlight rolled down the halls, it cast an eerie light amongst the many portraits, giving much more visible detail to the decay of the wood, the unkempt carpets and cobwebs that strung from corner to corner. And as it rolled… though Nancy wouldn’t see it, shadows revealed along the ground would flee from it’s light, though without anyone or thing standing to cast them. The light came to a rolling stop, and the click of the light would turn off the bulb, letting the shadows rule over the hallway again.

There was a brief silence. The pounding of rain outdoors covered over the sound of any footsteps, if there were any, from whomever locked the door - a brief tuft of dust rose up as something hit the carpet, the clapping of the mail slot closing shut ringing after. The light clicked again, and came back on, now pointed towards Nancy’s back.

A folded piece of paper awaited.

Written on the inside in barely legible black ink, almost hidden against the darkness. “COME READ WITH US.”

[diceroller4]

"Damn it," Nancy cursed with a kick to the door as she finally gave up on it. She would have to find an unlocked window apparently, or maybe there would be a key somewhere inside. Her musing was interrupted by the sound of the mail slot and the light shining from behind her. She managed not to jump this time but she was still a little startled.

Picking up the paper she frowned and rubbed her forehead in thought. "What is going on here," she wondered. "Lacey? Simon? If you guys set up some kinda prank then I swear I'll kick your asses," she called out only to shudder as her voice eerily echoed. With a gulp she adjusted her hat and retrieved her flashlight before setting off down the hall.

"Okay so I need to find some books," she guessed. As much as this whole situation was like something out of a bad movie she was willing to humor the random note for the time being. Besides the reporter in her was really itching to figure out what was going on. As she moved down the hall she tried to open the doors she found just enough to shine her light inside and see if she had found a source for books.

The winding corridor wasn’t long. Doors that weren’t locked just opened into useless supply closets, without a paperback in sight. Before long, Nancy would reach the end of the short hallway without finding so much as one mere scrap of paper or table of contents. And much less, find out who ‘us’ implied… the only sounds to be heard weren’t anything man-made. Just the howling of the wind outside, the soundtrack to Nancy’s exploration being the beating of heavy rain.

As the house put behind Nancy slipped back into darkness, the paintings and portraits she passed left behind, the hallway seemed more at peace. The shadows obscured what framed pictures she had already passed and covered over their seemingly watching eyes, and all the better for it - she was now in the living room, where the empty, silent gramophone waited by a cup of coffee and a nice, red chair.

There were three paths to take, here - a grand and regal staircase, leading to an upstairs. It was blocked off with a velvet, red rope. To the left; a doorless entrance to a dining room, one of many in the house. The lights were off and the table, barren. To the right, though, was an extravagant study; bookshelves for days inside, with two wide doors that stayed open by two useful door-stoppers.

[diceroller4]

Nancy's sense of dread had slowly mounted as she moved down the hallway but when she reached the end without incident she began to calm herself. "Okay, it's just a spooky old house. Nothing special here except some funny old stories," she tried to tell herself as she shined her light about. Odd that the upstairs was roped off like that but she could take a look in a bit if she needed to.

Spotting the study the petite brunette grew excited and hurried inside. "Finally," she exclaimed as she started to look around the room. "Now to find whatever this stupid clue is on about." That said she started shining her flashlight about, looking for any hints on where she should start.

Kendall’s famed study. The old lady herself never spent much time in the place, but books were important to her old ancestors, so it received the greatest care and upkeep in its heyday. Servants were often assigned to rife through the books and make sure all were in appropriate condition, labelled alphabetically, sectioned off by genre. Sometimes, the duchess would buy books simply to fill the shelves a little tighter - and the poor maids and servants who would tamper with the books, fail to return one on time, or place one in the wrong spot? Well, there were consequences.

“Twhip.”

Now that the place hadn’t been touched in so long, the most appropriate literature one might find in the old library would be Charlotte’s Web. Spiders had taken up residency in the cracks and corners, with moths and flies and the remains of their previous meals hanging by the threads of their webs. The spiders themselves were nowhere to be seen, though - per the rest of the house, the study was devoid of life. Dark, dreary, and damp.

“Twhip.”

Lining the walls were the most overpopulated of genres, each one marked with a little inscription at the top to describe what contents were inside; from the farthest wall, ‘MYSTERY.’ After that, ‘NONFICTION.’ Then, ‘DRAMA,’ ‘SATIRE,’ ‘SCIENCE FICTION,’ ‘HORROR,’ ‘ROMANCE’ - you name it, the genre likely had a case devoted to itself. In the center of the room were two smaller, stouter bookshelves, lined with newspapers of the times and dating as far back as 1700’s, and if one were to look closer… might find they suspiciously stayed updated into the current year. And of course, hanging around the few bookshelves were a few tables and chairs, each with unlit candles on top.

“Twhip.”

In the corner was a stack of books, not yet put away. It was from here that that dreadful sound was coming from - a lone book, on it’s back. The pages turned every few seconds. ‘Thwip.’ Nearby, a little candle’s flame flickered in the wind, while an empty cup of tea sat on a small plate.

‘Thwip.’

On the wall rested a thinly taped note, seemingly torn from a book. Many pieces and sentences of the poem were blotted out with black lines, leaving only a few words that read the following:

‘Where from hearts XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX bleed, and XXXXXXX
Children XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Flee XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
But search inside, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXX and you will find XXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXX the path to XXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXX set you free, XXXXXXXXXXXX'

[diceroller4]

Nancy felt a small shiver run down her spine as she entered the study. On the one hand the place was kinda cool, she could just imagine being there back when the room had seen frequent use. On the other hand those days were well in the past and now it looked Aragog and Shelob and decided to co-habitat within. Seeing as how Nancy liked spiders about as much as a surfer would like living in Arizona the overabundance of webs was really ruining the room for her.

She could deal though, she just needed a moment to brace herself. She took a few deep before she got to work looking the room over properly. The sound of pages occasionally turning set an eerie tempo as she examined the shelves. She couldn't help raising a brow at the level of organization that seemed to have gone into the arrangement of the available volumes.

She almost missed the note at first but eventually her flashlight fell on the seemingly edited page. "Okay what is this now," she whispered as she examined the clue. "Hearts bleed? Children flee? What could that mean?"

As she pondered she continued to glance around, stopping suddenly when her light fell on the Horror section. "That's it," she shouted excitedly. With a little trepidation she pulled a few books from the shelf and spread them out to examine. "Somewhere here has to be the answer so I just need to flip through these until I find the key or another note." Grinning at her own cleverness she pulled out another arm load of books and dropped them down before starting to rifle through the lot.