Beneath the House

by Christopher Trezise

Alex kept telling himself that it was just a house, there was nothing really haunted about it. Though the three storey gothic grandeur did nothing to ease his tension. He'd been here plenty of times when he was a child, when his grandfather had been alive, but then he'd been all of four years old and such notions as ghosts were beyond him, or at least held no terror for him. In fact, the word malevolent hadn't even entered his vocabulary until four years ago during an English Language Class at his second year in high school, but malevolent was the aura projected by his grandfather's house.

The house was isolated deep in the New Forest, the only real forest left in England, it was four miles from the nearest village. Alex had driven down from London, the road had finished a mile back and turned to a muddy track through the winding Autumnal trees.

He supposed that the stories connected to the house added to the pervasive aura of dread that Alex could feel. Alex's parents had died last week in a motor accident and he'd inherited this house in their Will. He still thought it odd that his father had wished in his Will that the reading be carried out directly following the funeral.

Alex had done some research on the house before coming down, his Internet searches turned up little, the houses location and directions to get there, but nothing else. It took a trip to the Devonshire Historical Society, which bizarrely had its base in London, to discover the stories surrounding the house. Tales of worship to dark gods, human sacrifices and hauntings which had driven all owners of the house insane. Out of morbid curiosity, Alex looked up his grandfather’s Death Certificate, his grandfather had not only died of fright, but along with his Certificate, Alex found committal papers to Dartmoor Sanatorium, this certainly gave the tales some substance.

He didn’t want to enter, but there was a condition in the Will that stated that he must make a personal survey of the house a week after inheriting it, and make a report to the family solicitors the next day. Not wanting to loose his grandfather’s house after coming all the way out her, Alex took a deep breath and using the keys unlocked the house. He could think of better ways he could be spending his eighteenth birthday.

He entered into a dusty hallway, the grand sweeping staircase was the first thing Alex noticed and his fear of ghosts and things that go bump in the night faded away like melted butter. The staircase had seen better days, its carpet had all but faded and thick cobwebs were spun between the railing. He felt like calling out ’Hello’ like they did in the movies, but he restrained his tongue. Four oak doors led off from the hallway, he decided to explore the ground floor first.

All the doors in the house were locked and he had a different key for each one. Drawing back the heavy curtains to let in the daylight, he revealed a spacious dining room, perfect for hosting parties, a swinging door led into the Kitchen, there were pots and pans strewn all over the place. The Sanatorium Orderlies must have come for him whilst he was cooking, the floor was covered in a thick black grime and a cockroach scuttled across the counter and hid inside the bread basket.

There was no microwave or electric ovens here, everything was cooked over an open hearth, in a soup cauldron, it was no wonder people made up stories about this house. It was practically medieval. He didn’t check the pantry, the smell coming from it was suggestive of rotten mould festering food, he’d have to hire in cleaners and restorers to get this house liveable again.

He moved his ground floor search into the drawing room, the curtains were already open in here, brushing aside cobwebs he made his way to the fireplace, he remembered that this was the only room he’d ever been in as a child. He used to sit on his grandfather’s lap in a cosy chair by the fireplace, he noticed it was upturned. Why hadn’t his parents come here and sorted this place out? Why had they avoided it? The sense of fear he’d felt earlier began to creep back.

He remembered that his grandfather was a thin man, and above the fireplace, nailed to the wall was his grandfather’s portrait. Alex cleared the dust from the picture, it was the face he’d remembered, gaunt and withered, but Alex remembered the eyes differently, they weren’t as cold and menacing as the portrait, they were warm and gentle. Alex brushed a web from the corner of the portrait, and revealed the artist’s signature and the date it was painted. However the date couldn’t possibly be right, the date on the painting stated 1589AD. Either the painter got the date wrong or Alex might have remembered the painting, instead of his grandfather, which would explain his memories of different eyes. Memory is never a constant, it always changes, the sub-conscious adds bits in, and it’s influenced by others who claim to have been there.

It’s possible Alex’s memories of his grandfather, were actually of the painting and it was no wonder, this portrait would certainly stick in the mind of an impressionable four year old. His eyes then fell on the mantelpiece, there were photos of him as a baby, of his parents at their wedding, and an old black and white photo of an elderly lady, with a stern demeanour. An empty candlestick holder sat in the centre of the photos.

Alex was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the gaze of the portrait and so he decided to try the fourth door on the ground floor. He tried every key on his key ring, but not a single one fitted this lock and there was no master key. Slightly crestfallen, Alex headed upstairs to the first floor landing, the stairs swept up either side of the landing to the second floor and there was a set of double doors directly ahead. Either side of the doors stood a stuffed brown bear, risen on its hind legs, paws clawing at the air, it’s face one of savagery unmatched. He’d definitely get rid of those monstrosities.

Alex opened the double doors and entered a wide corridor that spanned the length of the house. Light filtered in from outside through a large window at the corridor’s end. There were seven doors leading off this corridor. The first room seemed to be an art-studio, there was a kiln for firing clay, canvases lay torn, scattered across the room, paint pots had been emptied on the floor and on the walls, Alex supposed it could be construed as art in today’s culture. It was far too messy and cluttered in here, he’d leave exploring this room until tomorrow.

Moving to the next room, Alex found himself in what can only have been a library. Rows and rows of empty bookcases lined the walls of this spacious room. Alex turned on his torch for a better look, in the centre of the room the torchlight fixed upon a mound of ash. Someone must have burnt all of his grandfather’s books, but why would Sanatorium Orderlies do that? This must have been the work of somebody else.

A little spooked, Alex continued on, he found two sleeping chambers, that were probably for live-in servants, a box room, filled with rotten and mouldy cardboard boxes, the contents of which had long since disintegrated. He could have also sworn he saw a rat by the torchlight, but he didn’t really want to know, so he didn’t bother to double-check.

The next two rooms were bed chambers, the first held a damp four poster, a single dresser and a large oak wardrobe. The mirror on the dresser was broken, Alex’s attention was drawn to an ornate silver box amidst the mirror debris. He opened it carefully and two figurines holding hands pooped out and began to rotate in a clockwork dance, but his eyes were focused on the scrap of paper that had fallen out of the lid, setting the box down he picked up the paper and read...

‘Dear Secret Journal, my father seems to like my choice of husband, even though Daniel and I were upset he did not attend the wedding. He also seems quite excited about my pregnancy, I’ve never seen him so happy, not since mother left us.

I had the dream again, it was more vivid this time, but I cannot bring myself to put it in writing for fear of making it real. Father says the dreams will pass once Alex is born, that’s what Daniel and I decided to call the baby, be it boy or girl, the name lends itself to both genders. Father has even done up the other guest room as a nursery, it’s a bit of a boys room, I think my father’s hoping for a grandson.

Daniel’s beginning to stir, it’s amazing that all these years and my father has never found my secret journals. I have burnt my previous entries as they only serve to remind me of my mother, which I can do without.

Goodbye for now, my secret friend.’

Alex’s mother had never spoken about his grandparents in any detail, she used to say that their loss still grieved her and she didn’t wish to discuss it, and that was usually an end to the discussion. Alex quickly searched the room for more entries, but he didn’t find any more. He was glad he brought his torch with him as it was getting late and the evenings were starting earlier, he had about two hours until sunset.

He poked his head into the nursery, the cot was still there, though the bedding was sodden, there was an eerie mobile hanging above the cot, with witches, pumpkins and a strange pentagram, it’s sides were slightly curved and in it’s centre was what appeared to be an eye. He wondered if he ever slept here, he didn’t remember it, though the pentagram shape did seem familiar.

Having concluded his search of this floor he headed upstairs to the second floor, this was similar to the first floor, a long corridor, but this had eight doors leading off, the fading daylight struggled through the grimy window at the corridors end, Alex set off towards the first door, torch in hand.

The first room was the Master Bedroom, where Alex’s grandfather would have slept. Alex made a thorough search, but there were no secret journals here to read, a few medical biographies of noted physicians, a book on herbal remedies and a manual, but it was written in Greek, a language he didn‘t understand, he‘d taken French at High School and he wasn‘t very good at that.

The next two rooms were a set of Bathroom Suites, once luxurious, now dilapidated and corroded with rust. The rest of the rooms on this floor were similar to the library on the first floor, it seemed Alex’s grandfather was a big collector of books. It amazed Alex how the entire house didn’t go up in flames, it was just the books that were consumed in fire and turned to ash. There was no scorching on the walls, floors or ceilings, it was very strange and only enforced Alex’s growing sense of uneasiness. Then his torch shone upon the attic, he lowered the ladder by means of a pull string and he climbed up.

The attic was damp like the rest of the house, but it contained a study and a laboratory of sorts. The equipment looked chemical in nature, beyond Alex’s ken. On the study desk was a voluminous tome and a series of journals, Alex sat at the desk and began to read the Tome, but it was in some gibberish script that he didn’t even recognise. He closed it and put it to one side, the Tome felt strange to his touch, almost like he was touching... No, he pushed the thought out of his mind, it was too disturbing a thought to think about.

He turned his attention to the journals, mainly in order to take his mind off the ghoulishly bound Tome, the first one was dated 1990 - 1991.

Most of the entries were quite technical, chemical formulae, biological diagrams and even some occult references. Two entries stood out in this volume.

‘April 15th, 1990

I cannot believe I found a copy of the Bacchus Tome, written in the script of the Old Ones, it’s even in it’s original bindings. I have to wear gloves when handling it, it still creeps me out, even after the things I have done and the things I will do.

The ceremony is close at hand, my dear daughter is getting suspicious and I fear she will flee this place with her family soon, but that does not worry me, as I know my grandson will return to fulfil his destiny, even today I implanted a seed of thought into his father that will return my grandson to me at the appointed time.

But now I have much reading to do, for the Bacchus Tome holds the key I’ve been searching for.’

‘October 22nd, 1990

My present has been returned with the most awful letter, my own daughter considers me dead, well technically she may be right, for I am dead to her, since she discovered my secret, she has renounced any ties with me. She even went so far as to attempt to burn down the house. Her attempt to commit me to Dartmoor Sanatorium was a good plan, shame I didn’t think of it for her first, fortunately I proved my sanity and secured an early release.

Now I can prepare for the sacrifices, one for each year that I wish to remain.’

The journals continue through to 1996, after reading them, Alex could understand why she said he was dead and why she never talked about him. Frustratingly, there was no more mention about his supposed destiny, he closed the final journal with a yawn. Alex espied a Hammock in the corner of the attic, it looked fairly sturdy and was actually clean, he lowered himself into it and rocked gently to sleep.

Alex awoke with a bad taste in his mouth, and he felt sore all over. A quick look at his watch told him it was half past eleven, he quickly got up and made his way downstairs, leaving the house. Locking the door after him he drove to the nearby village of Redford, there was no signal here for his mobile phone, so he used the pubs pay phone to report his survey to the Solicitors and he ate a hearty pub meal before heading back to the house. On his way out of the pub he noticed a flyer flapping in the Autumn breeze, it was a Missing Person flyer, a young girl had disappeared last night.

He went straight back up to the attic, the afternoon light was able to penetrate the shadows of the claustrophobic room, he still had 1994 -1996 journals to read, he didn’t get round to them the previous night. The entries about sacrifices, magic and the dark god who is referred to quite often as ’the Dweller in the Woods’ were the parts Alex was reading, he glossed over the other entries. However, after the summer of ’95, the entries drop off at an alarming rate.

‘June 14th, 1995

The cult met tonight, I hosted a grand banquet, our dietary habits are becoming more depraved, the food was rotten and infected with mould and rat faeces, but I could never go back to eating fresh food now, there’s only one sustenance that I will consume fresh and that can only be eaten during the monthly Ceremonies of Purification. My own flesh is becoming pallid and the gum rot is complete, I wear full sets of dentures. It’s becoming increasingly harder to get these lucid moments when I can write, I spend most of my days in my secret room, wallowing in my own filth, feeding off anything I can find, why I have not died yet only goes to prove that I have the Dweller in the Woods favour. My reward will come soon, another decade and I shall receive it’

‘March 21st, 1998

Miles and the others, whose names I cannot remember, have been caught feasting by the villagers, they are local, not like me. They do not suspect me. The others cannot control themselves, they are beasts, unlike me, I am master of the Ceremony and the gift will come to me alone!’

‘September 1st, 2003

Next year it comes, the master has promised, the writing things are all burnt, only these remain, darkness will come!’

Alex had turned pale at these last entries, his grandfather had slipped into insanity beyond natural madness. Then he noticed the key taped to the back of the last journal, with a tag on it - it read ‘Spare’. Alex had completely forgot about the door on the ground floor that he didn’t have a key for, perhaps this one would fit the lock. Taking his torch he made his way downstairs and nervously tried the door he had yet to open. Alex had to get a control of his breathing, his grandfather was a monster, he had sacrificed over a thousand children altogether, and his own cult, all to this Dark God. Perhaps beyond this door was his grandfathers secret room, Alex’s senses were screaming at him to run, to get as far away from here as possible. He knew that danger lurked beyond this door, but something was driving him onwards, some call it destiny, whatever it was, it was stronger than his desires.

The key did indeed fit the lock and the door opened onto a set of stone steps leading down into the darkness beneath the house. The darkness reeked of rotting flesh and filth, after bringing up his pub lunch, Alex found the will to descend into the malodorous depths. His torch illuminated very little and his descent went on for a great length, by his watch, Alex came to the last step after an hour. The smell was stronger down here and Alex only just managed to keep his stomach lining in, it was also colder down here as well.

In the darkness someway off to his left, Alex could make out a light, it was a soft red glow. He headed towards that and a sulphur smell was added to the mix and he started to warm up slightly. After about fifteen minutes Alex could see that the glow was emanating from an archway.

Eventually Alex came to the archway and stepped through into a temple straight out of the books he’d read on Ancient Egypt. Hieroglyphs adorned the walls, but none that were familiar to him. Lava seemed to be captured in transparent tubes lining the ceiling giving off light and heat.

In the centre of the temple was a pyramid altar surrounded by five gargantuan pillars. The sizes were all out of proportion, no sane human could have built this place. There were objects on the ceiling, but it was too high up for Alex to make out. Slowly, awed by this wonder deep beneath the New Forest, Alex walked towards the giant pillars, which formed a pentagram around the pyramid. As he passed through to the altar he felt a warm ripple rush through him and the ground began to shake.

The tremor quickly subsided and Alex turned to leave, but there was someone blocking his way. It was the man from the portrait above the fireplace, his smile was sinister and sickened Alex.

“Congratulations my boy,” he sneered.

“Who are you?” Alex tried desperately to stop the fear creeping into his voice and failing miserably.

“Why, I’m your grandfather, surprised to see me so healthy? I‘ve been monitoring you ever since you entered my house. Your family solicitor is also my solicitor and one of my brethren. Upon receiving your phone call today, he will have reverted the property back to my name.”

“But why, what’s going on?”

“I’m glad you asked, my dear Alex. Your accursed mother kept charms and protections around you all of your life, protecting you from my powers. That is until last week. Ever since she became wise to who I am, I have plagued her with dreams every night. She did well to survive for fourteen years, but she eventually snapped and drove herself and your dope of a father off a bridge.” The man from the portrait chuckled.

“You killed my parents?”

“Yes my boy, but only so I could have you!”

“Why, what do you want with me? Do you want to sacrifice me to your crazy god?” Alex was beginning to get hysterical, he was arguing with a centuries old cult leader who claimed to be his grandfather in an Ancient Egyptian style temple beneath the New Forest in the southwest of England. His mind was overloading.

“No my boy, I made the final sacrifice last night, a young girl from the local village. No, you had a much more important role!” Explained his grandfather.

“What do you mean ’Had’?”

“He, he. You were the key, you see it needed a male descendant of my blood to unlock the powerful magic that imprisons the Dweller, all you had to do was cross the threshold and the magic that protected you, nullified the field imprisoning my Master and visa versa! Look.” The man from the portrait gestured behind him, Alex turned back towards the pyramid and the structure began to unfold.

“What’s happening?”

“Don not worry Alex.” His grandfather put a bony hand on Alex’s shoulder, “The Dweller is rising, within a matter of months, his reign of terror will have encompassed the whole of the British Isles and from there he will awake his brothers and sisters and they all shall rise across the Earth. Alex, you will be my Master’s first General, working with me to ensure his dominion. Alex, you will enjoy working with the Dweller, it can be extremely rewarding.”

“And if I refuse?” Alex was defiant to the last.

“Oh I don’t think that will be an issue.”

With the pyramid fully open, the Dweller in the Woods begins to rise...

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