The Country House Story - Part II

A strong recommendation to read the next post first, this being a sequel. Unless you are as confused as I am.

Scene 1, later that night:
Mr. Myers grappled with the candle and clumsily lighted it. The dim glow lit up the room in an aural manner and he headed straight for the staircase. As his thin legs disturbed the void silence with its light impact on the floor, many faces stared at him viciously. The huge murals on the walls with their aristocratic history behind them didn't particularly enjoy this intrusion and their discontent was evident. It didn't last eternally - in an instant, the glow of light vanished onto the upper floor to disturb the other lazy noblemen.

The echo of steps seemed to follow Mr. Myers to a room on the left. He reached the landing in front of the room's door and recited a small prayer. A prayer he is used to mumbling everyday considering the toll the War has taken on his family and friends.

Mr. Myers swung the door knob. In the orange glow of the room, he could make out his 25 year sister. Mary, the critically deranged haggard blonde of his remained immobile in bed. He moved past the window and headed for her.

So peaceful when asleep, he thought.

He nursed his hands over her forehead and gave a small peck. The last time he had seen her she had been wailing. So egregiously, that he had instructed Jane to lock her up until she gave up.

And where'd my loyal servant be? Strange! I expected her 'ere, thought Mr. Myers.

He reached over to the nearby table to pick the three pronged candles. A thin sweat percolated his brow and bloomed in the light. He walked over to the dark remote corner of the room, where Jane had her makeshift bed.

Jane, where art thou? he called.

In a flash, he could see a being soiled up in red all over. Blood. Totally flabbergasted, he bent over to see who it was.

Jane! Holy God.

In a flash, a huge serrated knife plunged into his soul. Not once, but twice...thrice...it continued atrociously. In the dim candlelit glow, Mr. Myers could feel his life growing dimmer. Though, not before he caught the final glimpse of his beautiful sister's hair soiled to red. And her undying urge to kill.

Back in his carriage, Jack Mason still appeared hellbent scared over the scary human-like form he had just seen in the window - and its murderous clutching of a dagger.

Scene 2, later that night:
The old nobleman welcomed the Bishop and graciously thanked his visitor. He accepted Father Benny's jacket and hat and placed them on the wooden wardrobe near the door. While doing so, he turned on the room switch.

The entire room bathed in chandelier lights gave the room a complete Orwellien look. It seemed to the Bishop as if he was transported back in time. The wonderful paintings lent that extra bit of history. The gentlemen and women on them however didn't seem very friendly.

My son, is it true from what you have told me. The lady and the terrible misfortune that has befallen her

Yes Father, I couldn't save my dearest from the terrible fate of things. The urgency of the situation demanded someone like you to be here. You shall see it for yourself. Please follow me, Father.

Suddenly, a huge shriek beamed the air.

Oh my Lord, that is my wife's voice. Fiona.

With that, he hurried over to the steps shouting "Fiona, are you fine?". The Bishop desperately tried to keep up with him. At the top landing on the first floor, the nobleman hurried over to the left and entered the room at the end of the alley. The Bishop huffing and puffing a few seconds later entered the room and an emotion of disbelief hit him.

A teenaged girl lay handcuffed to the bed. She was violently being jerked and flung in the air. Her eyes were red crimson and her body fluids were blown everywhere. An ugly stench enveloped the room.

On the floor of the room lay a middle aged woman sobbing gently. The nobleman had her in his arms.

Father Benny immediately removed the Holy Cross and his Gothic scriptures from his bag. He discreetly asked the nobleman and his wife to leave the room.

In the presence of the two beings alone, the whole room shuddered in the orange glow. The violent breathing of the girl and the peaceful serenity of the Father catalysed the eerie atmosphere. Father Benny read out a long passage from his scripture and pointed the Cross at the girl's eyes.

Hallelujah! Praise be to the Lord! Tell me who you are and what intentions do you have.

The bed thundered from below. The girl in a raspy voice boomed "Revenge" over the repeated thunder.

Go away, Praise be to the Lord! There is no one here.

Suddenly, it all became silent. It remained so for a few minutes.

Father Benny moved to the bed and examined the sweet innocent thing that now lay on it. He nursed the girl's forehead. Untying her from the handcuffs, he covered her with a blanket. As he left the bed, a strange feeling enveloped him.

The nobleman, overstruck with grief, had accompanied Fiona to her room and put her to sleep. Returning back, he was perturbed with the sudden silence inside his daughter's room and decided to check on the Father. What he was greeted with would remain forever etched in his mind.

The Bishop was on the floor, his eyes vermin-like green and letting out a high woman-like shriek. Over him lay his daughter with a Cross in her hand plunging it into the Bishop's heart hollering Revenge in a man-like voice.

Back in his minivan, Pathan Khan was still ravaged by the shriek he had heard at the countryhouse - so ugly, so other-worldly.

The Country House Story - Part I

Scene 1:
The horse plodded over the cobbled stone path leading to the driveway of the antiquated house. Jack Mason was relieved. Finally. The incredibly herculean task of guiding his horses in such an incredibly foggy clime at such an incredible hour was finally done with. He could have avoided this circumstance had it not been the alluring reward of 10 mighty pound sterlings. The nobleman also seemed too desperate and troubled to get to this country house, unmindful of the hour and travails the journey involved.

All's well that end's well, he thought in his Yorkshire accent.

Mr. Myers alighted from the coach and instinctively eyed the top left window of the house through the enveloping midnight fog. The emanating orange glow calmed his nerves and he put on his black hat before rummaging through his wallet.

Aye Sir, yaa have been ery kind to drop me ere at this ungodly hour. Ere's yaa payment n a extra pound to convey ma appreciation.

Its ma pleasure, Sir. Jack plucked at the wealth offered to him, staring at him. With that, he hit the whip and chugged his horse wagon to life en route to Westminster.

Mr. Myers navigated a key onto the lock and whirled it round. The door sprung open with a creaky noise. In no time, it was banged shut from the inside.

As Jack jostled past the driveway gates, he managed a slight glance at the eerie window - a human silhoutte moving past its curtains. He whipped his horses harder. Somewhere not too far a dog howled. A long and scary night ahead.

Scene 2:
The minicab swerved into the driveway overlooking a medieval house. Pathan Khan had never imagined dropping a passenger for a 100 pound fare. Of course, it was way past midnight. Of course, it was way too foggy. Of course, it was way too remote - even the Gods would need a map. Despite his initial nays and hesitation to drive this far, the pound power ultimately lured him. The Bishop had seemed very nervous. All through the way, the Bishop was quietly mumbling silent prayers, crossing his handheld Cross every minute and pondering over Latin Gothic books. There was some inherent palpable fear clearly felt in the backseat of the car.

Weird people, weird ways!, he thought in his Lahore accent.

Father Benny pushed open the car door in a haste and handed over the prize to the lustful waiting hands.

Thank ya son for that quick ride. May God bless ya.

Not a problem, Mister. Good place here. Far. Bye.

Father Benny sprang to the house door despite the darkness and rang the doorbell. A light flared up in the top left window. A pavement light lit up into action immediately.

Pathan turned on the ignition and jerked the vehicle into motion. Slowly. He was curious to see the occupants of this abjectly desolate country house. As he slowly purred his car to the end of the driveway, he glanced back at the house door through the thickening fog.

An old nobleman with a black hat opened the door and let Father Benny in. The door was shut in an instant.

Weird people, weird ways, Pathan thought. Just as he sprung his minicab into second gear, a loud shriek percolated the air. Fourth gear. Zoom. Somewhere not too far a dog howled. A long and scary night ahead.

Memories

I stand tall
Second from the left
The Atlantic beckons
In all its lustrous glory
Time will pass
Time will stall
The future is cloudy
Decked in silver linings
But friends never die
For ever and ever

He and I

The young boy peered over the deck railing and gazed at the shimmering moonlight in the still water. The magical reflection percolated his soul and knocked on the doors of enthusiasm. Chewing on the great moments the boy had spent, he touched the wood to ensure it remained within him forever. The ferry soon reached its destination. The lad jumped over the cobbled stone ramp with a sense of jubiliation. Running over to the counter, he bought the needed tickets and pegged his accomplices to follow him. Within no time, he was bobbling halfway in the air - not to forget the twisting and churning of his entire being. His abdomen cringed a few times. A lot of banging and jerking followed after which he ran over to the nearest homosapien gathering close to a pedestal. All of them seemed to perform some wierd rituals involving body movements of the extreme variety pumped up by some cranky tunes. The boy hopped in with his pals and debuted with a special tribal routine

At the stroke of midnight, the boy could hear the tune "I Dream Away...le le ee le le" from Desert Rose. A huge voice boomed Happy New Year, so are you enjoying here at Esselworld?

I joined the chorus of Yeahs. And grooved beneath the Mumbai sky as if there was no end despite that it might make Mithun forget his dancing skills. After the delirium ended at 3 am, the last few ounces of energy and sanity were spent on the few remaining supposed daredevil rollercoaster rides. A quiet body-aching supper at 4am gave me enough calories to tread back home. Leaving on a Ferry...

Wish you all a wonderful 2007! Keep dreaming.