“Seize that whining boy. Tis your fault your mother has died”.
Victor does not have to ask his father what he means. He has very vocally been blaming him for his mother’s sickness for a long time. Victor has even blamed himself for it and in some ways, it is his fault. Had he not chosen to move across the country to a far off university to study occult rituals, his mother would not have insisted on moving the entire family with him to this dark and desolated place. Then, she would not have fallen terribly ill during the first ice cold winter isolated from the nearest hospital. He had tried his best to care for her. He had even put his studies on hold to be there at her side and when spring came, he genuinely thought she was improving. He thought that she was getting well enough for him to resume his studies. So, he left her in Justine’s, their governess, capable hands and went on a semester-long expedition out in the wilderness where a long lost ritual site had been discovered. A place of worship for some naturalistic elder Gods. The expedition had proven more than fruitful as they had unearthed some sort of ancient tome made of carved wooden plates. A tome of what looked like ritualistic magic. It had survived, hidden under a stone cairn in the middle of an octagram of chalk. Everything else within the site had been destroyed or badly degenerated since the last inhabitants had died more than four thousand years ago. Only that book had stood the test of time and survived the forces of nature. He could hardly believe his luck when he found it. A finding like that could change everything in his career. He was so excited that he could not wait to return and tell his mother all about it. Unfortunately he could not enjoy revelling in his discovery for long. He had barely returned two hours ago, when he was met with a notice that his mother had gotten worse during his absence. The sickness had returned worse than before. In a rush he had run home from the university, but, unfortunately, he did not make it in time. Had he just been a few minutes faster, he could have said goodbye to her. Had he been faster, he could have held her hand as she as she passed away. Instead, he can only hold her limb hand and feel the warmth slowly fade away from it.
“Tis your God damn fault!” his father erupts, unable to hide his anger and pain. “This should have been you lying there dead, not my beloved wife”. As he says the last words, he storms out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Victor has always known that his father does not like him. He has been a disappointment in his eyes ever since he as an eight year old turned his attention away from the world of science. He had wanted his son to become a great medical doctor, but a book of the occult had turned his interest towards the supernatural. Had he followed his father’s path for him, he could have saved his mother from dying.
“Do not listen to your father, Victor. Your mother never blamed you. She was so proud of you. I wish you could have seen her before she died, all she did was talk about you” Justine gently comforts him as she lays a blanket over his shoulders. “Come, let me prepare you some food. We cannot risk that you also get sick”. Unlike his father, Justine has always taken great care of him. She was hired by his family at the age of fourteen after her parents had died in mysterious ways. Her job was to take care of him, while his mother was pregnant with his little brother, William, and his father was down at the local pub talking politics.
“My dear Justine, I do not think I can eat anything. I am too weary from my travels and too heartbroken from my loss. I will return to my room for the night” Victor says and wanders back to his room. Though it is not quite true. In reality he is starving; he has not eaten since breakfast twelve hours ago. He just did not feel in any mood to be near Justine or anybody else. For the last month he had been looking forward to coming back home to see his mother again and tell her all about what he had discovered at the ritual site. Now that joy has turned to pain.
Inside his room he carelessly drops his rucksack on the stone floor. A loud wooden clunk comes from it as the old book falls out. In his hurry to get home to his sick mother, he had forgotten to drop it off at the university together with his logbooks full of notes. The most important object in his career and yet, now it feels so meaningless. Without sparing it another, he leaves it on the floor and drops down on his bed. All he to do is lie here with his head buried in the pillow crying. He wishes that he could disappear into the darkness of his room and stop feeling this pain inside. The pit of sorrow in his heart is sucking up all his energy and will to live. It hurts him to think about having to carry on without his mother. She was the only one who really understood him. His father does not know it, but she was the one who introduced him to the world of the occult. She used to take him down in the basement to try and summon ghosts with her Ouija board while his father was drinking at the pub. She taught him about voodoo rituals that had been passed down from her great grandmother. Once she even took him to observe a wiccan blood moon ritual circle in the woods. She had been a practitioner herself, but she gave it all up once she married his very conservative father. Suddenly a loud knocking on the door awakens him from his slumber. Without noticing it, he had fallen asleep still dressed in his travel clothes. The knocking is heard again, this time a little more forceful. It is a hollow knocking that sounds distant and distorted as if it is only a phantom sound in his head. He turns his head hoping for it to go away. He does not want to talk, but the knocking continues.
“Leave me be I beseech” he calls as he sits up in his bed in case they knock again or enter his room. This time silence falls. No one answers him nor does he hear footsteps walking away. For a minute he sits with his eyes on the door, listening. Content that he is again alone he lies back down, only for the knocking to return, more intense than before. Annoyed he jumps out of bed and throws the door open “who disturbs me at this time? I ask of you to leave me alone with my grief” he says, but there is no one on the other side. There is only a cold bowl of soup that has been waiting there for hours. He takes the bread and break it into bite-sized pieces as he stares down the hallway, first one way, then the other. It is as empty as expected during the night. Not a soul is to be seen anywhere. Slowly he presses his hands against his eyes, it must have been something he imagined or dreamt he thinks to himself. Yet, there it is again. The knocking. No, this time it is a banging, coming from behind him inside his room. He turns to find it as empty as it had been before. No one is in there, not even a single mouse. Yet the knocking persists. A feeling of terror grasps him, could it be a ghost. “Who visits me this night? Are you malevolent or kind?”.
The room goes silent. Again no one answers his calls. Maybe he has gone mad. Maybe he has lost his mind from the grief? Hesitantly he steps back inside the room, listening for the source of the knocking. On his way back to his bed in the dark he stubs his toe on something hard. The pain is followed by the sound of something sliding across the floor. The object slides into the faint moonlight where it reveals itself as the wooden ritual book. Now illuminated, it glimmers and shines, like the purest silver. A most mysterious effect. It draws him closer and before he knows it, he is holding it in his hand. His fingers unconsciously slide down the cover like he has done with so many books before. It is unexpectedly warm to his touch. Entranced, he opens it to the first page where the engraved letters and pictures now glow. But now he is somehow able to read the ancient carvings. The first few pages contain the run of the mill fertility and hunting rituals. Rituals that would normally have interested Victor immensely, but he keeps turning the pages, as if possessed, until he reaches a page engraved with the same octagram as they found at the ritual site. Above it is written the words Resurrection Ritual.
For a moment he blanks out and next he finds himself standing at his mother’s deathbed. Her pale face looks eerily distorted in the candlelit room. He diverts his gaze, mortified by her looks, only to find that an octagram has been drawn in chalk around them. He has no recollection of how he got here or what he has been doing. In his chalk covered hands he is still holding the book, and a weird chanting fills the room. A chanting in a language he has never heard before. He looks for the source of it, but there is no one else with him. He is all alone in the room with his dead mother. In horror he realises that he is doing the chanting, reading the words from the book aloud. He cannot stop. He cannot move. He has no control over his body. It is like some strange invisible force is puppeteering him, using it to perform this spell. The chanting intensifies; it becomes faster and louder. He feels the air charging with weird energy. Tension is rising. It is electrifying. His hands lift the book above his head. It is coming now, he can feel it. Abruptly he stops chanting as a bolt of lightning strikes down through the roof, shattering it. It electrocutes his mother. Her limbs begin to writhe and twist in weird spams. Her skin burns, her eyes roll in their sockets. A loud rasping sound comes from her as she stiffly sits up. Her head slowly turns to face him with the jaw hanging to the left. There is something demonic about her appearance. On crooked legs she steps out of bed. The sight of her moving her dead body fills him with disgust. It is a horrific sight. The book falls out of his hands as he screams in fear. His voice is finally his again. His body is his. He moves back towards the door, stumbling over his feet, trying to get away. There is a sound of broken glass and as he turns his head, he finds that she is gone. She has jumped out of the window.
Relieved he falls to the floor, heaving for air. The door opens behind him and in comes Justine. “Victor, are you okay? What are you doing in here?” she asks, looking at his pale sweat covered face. She looks genuinely worried about his health. In short breaths he explains what has happened. He picks up the book to show her, but it no longer glows with silvery light, and it is once again incomprehensible to him. “Come let us get you back to bed. I will make sure that nobody learns the truth of what happened tonight”. She gently helps him onto his legs and leads him back to his room.
In the dark of his room, he can still see his dead mother’s horrible face before his eyes. The way she looked at him and the way she moved, makes his body shiver uncontrollable with fear. He turns his head, trying to focus on something else. Trying to focus on something more pleasant, but he cannot. Lightning lights up the night outside and in the window, he sees her face staring in at him with deep cuts in the flesh from the glass. He sits up in shock, but she is gone again.
The next morning, Victor feebly walks down the stairs to the kitchen. He has not slept well. In fact he has hardly slept at all. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt his mother’s ghoulish presence upon him. He nervously looks around as he walks. He hardly dares to turn a corner or walk down the dark corridors. Everywhere he goes he is sure she is waiting for him, to exact revenge for meddling with the forces of nature.
“Oh behold, the prodigal nerd has returned, gracing us mere simpletons with his presence. How proud you must be for having left our mother when she needed you the most” William announces scornfully as Victor enters the kitchen, making him jump in fear. A resentment has been brewing in him since they moved. He is angry that he was taken away from his friends and everything he knew without a say in the matter. He is angry that their mother liked Victor better than she liked him. He is angry that she got sick and died. And he is angry that Victor left him alone with their sick mother and their distant father.
Victor does not pay much attention to the words of his little brother, nor to Justine serving him a breakfast platter with sausages and eggs. His mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of the ghoulish being that he has released on the world.
“You do not look well master Victor. Maybe you should take the day to restore your health” Justine suggests as she pours him a cup of tea. “I can take care of the funeral arrangements for your mother. In some ways she has been like a mother to me too after my own parents died”.
“Hark Justine, do not waste your sympathies on Victor. As soon as he is better, he will leave us again. He does not care about our plights. Is it not right, brother?” William eggs him on. He is looking for a fight; for a way to release this pent up anger inside him and to him, Victor is more than a deserving target. “Nay, you are a disgrace and a failure. Even mother cursed your existence. Told me that she should have seen it sooner. That she was a fool for loving and believing in you. That you are an honourless mutt who did not deserve her admiration”.
This time his words affect Victor as intended and unsteadily he jumps up ready to fight. “Silence yourself William or receive the repercussions”. He has endured his brother’s foul words for way too long because his mother asked him to. But to insult his honour like this; to claim that he carelessly left their beloved mother to die and to insinuate that he is unworthy of her love, is disrespect he cannot take. Before he even lays a hand on him, the fight is interrupted.
“There will be no fighting today. Your mother would not have wanted her death to come between the two of you. She loved both of you in different ways, but never was she disappointed. And just be happy that your father did not hear you say those horrible things. He would have sent you to sleep in the fire shed for the entire winter” Justine says, waving her wooden spoon at William, ready to hit him over the head again. It has Victor in surprise that she even hit him the first time. He has never seen her hurt anything, not even a fly.
As William storms out of the kitchen, Victor collapses back down on the bench he was sitting on. He just thought he saw the deteriorating face of the monster outside the window, and the shock took it out of him. The few bits of food he had already managed to eat, churns in his stomach and he is fighting to keep it down. “Where is our father anyway? Tis not very like him to be late for breakfast”.
Justine sees his weakened state and grabs his arm to support his wait. “There, there Victor, you should not exert yourself like this” she says as she helps up in a standing position. “I have not seen him this morning. I will go and check on him once I have gotten you back to bed. You are in no condition to be up and about today. Just let me take care of everything”.
She helps him back up to his bed and places a cup of tea on his nightstand together with a collection of Wordsworth’s poems. A collection his mother often read for him when he was feeling sick. Barely has she left him to rest before a bloodcurdling scream reverberates through the house. Frightened, he falls out of bed, grabs the fire poker and runs on weakened legs to see what has happened, fearing that he will now come face to face with the monster. Justine is standing in the door to his father’s bedroom with her hands in front of her face. He pushes her away to have a look inside, but the sight has him bending over. He falls to his knees, vomiting on the floor. The room is a horrible gory mess. Dried splotches of blood stains the walls and the floor. His father lies on his bed with his gut ripped open and his intestines have been scattered everywhere. It looks like a wild beast has mauled him to death. That is except for the bloody human foot prints walking towards the window. Victor is shaking, mumbling to himself. This is his fault. He created the monster and let it loose upon this world. He should never have come here. He should never have read that book. He has ruined his family with his choices.
The news of the murder spreads fast and within half a day the town’s sheriff comes by with handful of interested parties to investigate the crime. Though Victor does not meet with them. Not that Victor could have answered their question anyway. Unbeknownst to him, their father had become an important figure within the town council and between the town elders. He was living a life very different from the drunkard that Victor thought he was. Instead Justine and William take care of dealing with the investigation, as he is too weak. The horrors and grief have become too much for him. Like crippling anxiety, it has grasped him and is threatening him with a fit of lunacy. The mere thought of the murder or the monster leaves him weak, feverish and unable to sleep. For the entire week he lies bedridden without the strength to speak with anyone. Every time the door opens, or he sees a reflection in the window, he screams, fearing that the monster has returned to kill him too. It is only due to Justine’s tender care that he finally gets better. Every night she sits by his side, holding his hand and brings him comfort in the dark. And every day she brings him food and makes sure that he eats enough to get better. At the same time she also finds time to arrange the funerals and take care of the house.
Mostly better, Victor arrives at the church this Sunday noon. The sad October weather is hanging in the air like his sorrows on his mind. With his father’s death, he has become the head of the family, and all their burdens now fall on him. He is just thankful that Justine is there to help him manage the estate and the family fortune until he has figured it all out. He takes place on the front pew, next to William who is, reluctantly, holding his tongue, trying not to spew any vile words while in the house of God. There is a new coldness to him that Victor did not notice before. In front of them lies two white mahogany coffins decorated with an abundance of flowers. One for his mother and one for his father. Looking at them, he is reminded of the horrifying vision of his mother’s disturbing face, wondering where her body is now. Shivering at the thought. He glances back to take his mind off of it and notices the vast amount of people here to pay their respects. He did not know just how loved his family is, but it warms his heart to see that they have been accepted by the community. “Tis most beautiful what you have arranged. Thank you. You are in truth a great service to us” he thanks Justine as she sits down and the priest commences. She has kept her promise to him and taken care of everything.
After the ceremony, the sheriff makes his way through the line of well-wishers waiting to offer them their condolences. “‘Scuse me Victor, William, Ma’am. Can I talk with you two boys in private? It’s ‘bout the ‘vestigation”. He leads them to an empty room in the back of the church where they can talk without prying eyes. “We’ve found ‘nformation that might ‘nterest you. D’you ‘member the bloody footprints? We’ve ‘xamined them closely ‘n come to the conclusion that they’re women’s footprints. We’ve also found several strands of hair, a small bloody handprint on the night table ‘n a women’s ring. We therefore ‘spect that it’s a woman who done it. We’d therefore like to access Justine’s room to look for clues as she’s now our main ‘spect”.
Victor is appalled by the idea. “What are you insinuating, Sheriff? That Justine, our beloved governess, is a monstrous murderer? She has been with us for sixteen years. Our parents took her in when she was orphaned. They gave her a home and a life. Should she have repaid their kindness by brutally butchering our father. For what reason would she do so, Sheriff? Nay I assure you that it cannot have been her. It must have been someone else, but whom I cannot say” he lies, knowing that if he told the truth it would sound like the ravings of a madman.
“Of course you can have access to her room. I have never really trusted Justine anyway. There has always been something about her that rubs me the wrong way; an air of something … unnatural, if I have to put a word to it. To say it bluntly, she gives me the creeps. I have also been told that her own parents likewise died under mysterious circumstances” William says to Victor’s surprise. He does not understand how his little brother can be so cavalier about the woman who has been taking care of him since his birth. He has also never heard him express these concerns about her before.
“Much ‘bliged. We’ll come by later t’day to do the ‘vestigation of her room. I promise it’ll be swift. You two have a nice day ‘n I’m sorry for your loss. Your parents were good folks” the Sheriff says with a respectful bow before leaving the two brothers alone.
“Why brother, did you permit him to rummage through Justine’s room without the decency of asking her first. Tis most impertinent of you to treat family like this. You should be ashamed” Victor erupts as the door closes behind the Sheriff. He cannot believe that his little brother has been raised with so little sense of manners. Had their father been alive, he would have slapped him for showing such disrespect.
“Family, HAH you are delusional. She is nothing more than a servant and a mediocre one at best” William scoffs. “Father often talked about letting her go. He thought it would be a waste of money to keep her employed now that I am to turn seventeen. Not that you would know anything about that, having your head up your own pompous ass. Nay, tis you who should be ashamed for being away all the time. You have neglected us. You have neglected your duties”. With those words he leaves Victor in shock, slamming the door behind him.
As Victor finally leaves the church, he finds that both William and Justine are already gone. Figuring that they both had left without him, he walks the way home. He walks the direct path through the forest. The same road he took with Justine earlier, but now that he is alone and the day has become darker, he finds it very haunting. Every snap of a twig and ruffling of leaves have him looking over his shoulders. He is sure that something is stalking him, patiently waiting out between the trees for a moment to strike. He hastens his pace a little, trying to get home a little quicker. Midways through the dark forest a heavy rain begins, muddying the road within minutes, making it harder to walk. The sound of droplets hitting the leaves are deafening. Still it sounds like something is chasing him. Like someone is calling his name. He sets into a run. His clothes are soaked. Mud splashes everywhere with every step. He wants to get out of this forest right away. A thunderous bang sounds as a lightning bolt strikes down not far from him. In the short flash of light that breaks the darkness, he sees the monster standing between the trees. Her dead pale face stares at him. An eye is missing from the socket. Deep festering wounds are covering her previously flawless skin. Hair has fallen out in big tufts and there is a hole in her skull, exposing the brain. It is a terrifying vision. His foot slips in the mud and he falls on his belly. He quickly scrambles to get back up on his feet and grabs a fallen branch to defend himself with. Another lightning flash, but the monster is gone. His heart is racing. There is no time to find out where it has gone. He sets in a sprint and runs home as fast as he can.
The house is silent when he arrives out of breath. There is no light in any of the windows, and the front door is still locked. He is the first one home. Another thunderous bang makes him jump and behind him he sees the monster, standing at the edge of the forest. He fumbles for the key and with shivering hands struggles to unlock the door. Another flash and she is even closer, just fifty meters away. The key goes in. He opens the door and slams it behind him. He hits the lock just as another lightning hits, revealing the monster's face right outside the door window. With a scream he jumps back. The door handle shakes a bit and then goes silent. Then the sound of a key entering the lock is heard. The door opens and Victor grabs an umbrella ready to defend himself. But in steps Justine, just as soaked as he is.
“Victor, you look absolutely frightened. Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Maybe it was too early for you to leave the house again” she asks as she sees him, shivering with an umbrella clutched in his hands. “Come let us get you upstairs and get you in some dry clothes. I will make you some tea and food, so you can regain your strength”.
After a long warm and relaxing bath and a change of clothes, Victor sits down at the table for dinner, feeling like a new man. He notices that there has only been set a table for two, and he feels a little sad inside. This is the first time in forever that he has had a dinner with so few people present. Justine lights the candles before serving the food and sits down across from him. “Has William not returned yet?” he asks, realising the second plate is for her and not for his little brother. He had hoped to have a conversation with William and maybe apologise. He wants to mend this bond between them before it is completely broken.
“I have not seen him since the church. He must have taken a trip into town instead” Justine pours them some wine. A bit extravagant for a day and a simple meal like this, but it will help him sleep later, so he does not complain. “Seems like it is just the two of us for tonight. We might have to get used to it only being you. Before long William could be gone to start a life of his own. He is a young man after all”.
“I assume he has already discussed his future plans with father. Though I should probably also … Oh, that must be the Sheriff arriving now. He told us he would come by to continue the investigation. If you will excuse me a moment” a knocking on the front door interrupts their dinner and Victor gets up to greet the Sheriff and his men in the foyer. “Welcome Sheriff and deputy. We just sat down for a small dinner; are you hungry?”. He had expected a few more men tonight. The other days there were at least five people walking around investigating, but then again, it is getting late.
Soaking wet the Sheriff takes Victor’s hand while the deputy walks out in the kitchen to Justine. “I’m ‘fraid I’ve more bad news for you” he says and takes a deep breath, trying to delay what he has to say. “Your brother’s been killed. He was found not far from the church, all bloodied up. Witnesses say they saw a woman standing over him. She fled ‘nto the forest, ‘fore they could get a good look at her. Took a real beating, did he; very nasty ‘ttack. She tried to gut him. They say he muttered sumting ‘bout Justine did it just before he passed. He’s been brought to the coroner now”. As he says it the deputy returns with Justine in handcuffs. “I’m very sorry Victor, but we’ve to take her with us now”.
“No, no stop! No, it is not true. It was not her. It cannot have been her” Victor cannot believe it. His brother has been killed. Justine is being framed. Once more his family pays the price for his misdeeds. He broke the laws of nature and now the universe has taken everything from him. He needs to find a way to save Justine before it is too late. “It was not her Sheriff. Please believe me”.
The Sheriff lays a comforting hand on Victor’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard to believe, son, but all ‘vidence points to her. She’ll stand trial t’morrow and she’ll be hung for what she done”. He follows the deputy out of the house. “We’re sorry this happened to you”.
Victor runs out in the rain after them as they saddle up. He does not know what to do. How can he prove the truth to them? “It was not her. It was the monster” he yells as he falls to his knees in desperation, watching them ride away. “IT WAS THE MONSTER!”.
Once again soaked and covered in mud Victor goes back inside. Slowly he takes off his clothes and lets them fall on the floor on his way up to his room. He lies down on the bed, curling up under the duvet. He does not know what to do. He has lost everyone now. William was right, he is a failure. He failed their mother, their father, William and Justine. How can he go on without them? What meaning does his life now have?
“Viiiiiiiictooor!...” a throaty raspy voice echoes through the house, awakens him from slumber. Wet and muddy thumps slowly make their way up the stairs. “Killed … my son … killed … husband … find you … kill you”.
He cannot hear the words clearly, but he understands enough of it. The monster has learned to talk, and it is here to kill him. To punish him for what he has done. It wants vengeance. He is almost willing to give it what it seeks. Maybe if he offers himself to it, this nightmare will finally be over. No more would have to suffer for his transgressions. He would no longer have to suffer, nor would he have to go through this life alone. He is about to call for the monster as his thoughts fall on Justine. She is probably scared and cold, sitting in her cell waiting for her judgment and execution. She still counts on him. She is still alive. His last semblance of family. He cannot leave her to die.
By the sound of it, the monster has now made her way up to the top of the stairs. He will have to act fast and find a place to hide before she finds him. On light feet he sneaks out of his room, trying to avoid the creaking floor boards. He makes his way down to the last room in the hallway, Justine’s room, and closes the door just as his mother turns the corner. It is hard to see her in the dark, but even as an undead monster he knows her silhouette well. She walks towards his room. Thump. Thump. Thump. Slowly she gets closer and closer and from the creaking of the floorboards she walks past his room. She walks past William’s room and down to the end of the hallway. Victor backs away from the door, wondering how she knows where he is. He scans the room for an exit, but there are no windows, no balconies nor are there any other doors. In fact, the room is not much larger than a storage closet. All there is in the room is a bed, a writing desk, an armoire, a mannequin and a small altar. It surprises him how small the room is. It is only half the size of his own room. There is even another empty bedroom downstairs, larger than this one. With nowhere to go, he hides himself in the armoire. It feels like he is standing inside it for twenty minutes before the door opens and the thumping movement of the monster enters the room. Through a crack in the armoire door, he can sort of see it walk over to the bed, ripping the cover off, searching for something. It moves past the armoire towards the altar, picking up the pictures and looks at them with its one eye. The door to the room is still open. This is his chance to get away. He takes a deep breath and jumps out of the armoire. He pushes the monster into the altar. He grabs the chair and runs out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He places the chair under the handle, jamming the door. The next moment something bangs on the door, and he falls on his butt in shock, but the door holds. The monster is locked inside and now he has the proof needed to save Justine.
Without a moment of hesitation, he runs outside and saddles up on his horse, riding into town as fast as he can. It might be in the middle of the night, but for him there is not a minute to waste. The door will only hold the monster captured for so long and he does not believe he will ever get a chance like this to prove Justine’s innocence. An hour later he returns with the Sheriff, annoyed from being pulled out of bed, the deputy and a small self-righteous posse, looking to uphold the law in the town. He leads them upstairs, anxiously holding his breath, following the muddy footprints on the floor. The chair is still standing in front of the door where he left it, but he no longer hears the knocking on the door. Bracing himself he opens the door, expecting to see the horrible decaying visage of his mother, but there is nothing inside. He opens the armoire door and looks under the bed, but it is gone.
“I swear to you, Sheriff. I had caught an intruder inside this very room, just an hour ago. Verily, you saw the footprints leading up here” Victor had not told the Sheriff that it was the animated corpse of his dead mother. He had instead claimed that he had caught an intruder.
The Sheriff tiredly shakes his head and leads Victor out of the room. “Listen here son. It’s been some tough weeks for you ‘n I ‘nderstand what all this loss can do to your head. The truth’s this, you’ve tried to make sense of it by ‘nventing an ‘ntruder in your head. The muddy footprints they’re yours. Look at your feet. You must have made them earlier without noticing”.
Victor looks down at his feet, completely bare and covered in dried mud. He must have forgotten to put on socks and shoes before leaving to fetch the Sheriff, but that does not explain the muddy prints.
The deputy pops his head out of the room “Sheriff, you’re gonna wanna see this. We’ve found sumting, a journal. It’s a full confession”. He hands the book to the Sheriff, pointing at a page dated six months ago.
His eyes turn larger as he reads on, flipping through pages, letting out several interested grunts and hmms. He marks passages on a bunch of pages and bends their ears. “You better read it ‘fore we collect it as ‘vidence” the Sheriff finally says and hands the diary to Victor.
… Victor barely spends time at home anymore. He is always at the university studying. If I want to see him, I will have to do something about it myself. Maybe if I poison Mrs. Stein, he will come home to take care of her. He has always been very fond of his mother… It works. Now that his mother is gravely ill, he is finally spending time at home again to take care of her. Unfortunately, that is all he is doing. He barely leaves her side, and he certainly does not pay much attention to me… Oh darn it, now that his mother is getting better, Victor has decided to return to his studies and go on a semester long excursion. Why does he keep leaving me?... I have proposed to Mrs. Stein that Victor takes me as his wife when he returns from his excursion. I am a good woman and I come from a decent family. I thought she would be thrilled by the prospects, but she refused. She said that I was only a servant to them and that they have plans for Victor to marry someone much better than me… I have started poisoning Mrs. Stein again. This time she is going to die, just like my own parents. I will not let anyone stand in my way… Mrs. Stein has finally died, that stubborn old cow. It took way longer than I thought it would. I had to increase her dosage twice, but now it is finally over. Victor also just returned home. Maybe if I poison him this time, he will be too weak to leave me again… Oh shit I think that I gave him too much. He is all delirious, talking about resurrecting his mother with an old spell. I need to be more careful. I do not want him to die. I do not think I could live without Victor in my life… Mr. Stein just fired me. He says that the family no longer needs my services and that he wants me gone before breakfast, so I killed him. I do not know what came over me, I just started gutting him with my knife and spreading his intestine all over the room… This has been the best week yet. With Victor weakened by my poison he is in constant need of me. He is finally appreciating me for who I am and with his parents gone I think I can persuade him into marrying me… Damn I almost got caught killing William. I heard William and Victor talk with the Sheriff, and though Victor defended me, it was clear that William wanted me gone. I should have waited until we were inside the forest to kill him, but I got too eager to get rid of him. Hopefully Victor will still defend me against any accusations… Once this is over, we will go away together, and Victor will finally be mine FOREVER. Victor and Justine Stein.
Victor turns pale as he reads the marked passages. Justine has been behind everything. She killed his parents and his brother. She poisoned him and made him believe he had raised his mother as an undead monster. He even tried to free her. He hands the book back to the Sheriff. He has to sit down. This is too much to take in at once. With his last breath, William had saved him from a lifetime with a psychotic murderer. As he grabs the chair to sit, he gets a glimpse of the mirror on Justine’s writing desks and in it he sees his mother smile back at him. She is no longer decaying and falling apart, instead she is as beautiful as before she got sick.
Comments
Post a Comment