The Mist in the Manor by Rhett Blood

The Mist in the Manor by Rhett Blood

I pulled into the driveway of the rundown manor to retrieve what my grandfather had left me. At the funeral I was pulled aside, and given the note from him. It was hidden in his will, and said that I would receive the box, and that no one else should know about it. “I always hated this house.” I thought to myself as I exited my car. I hated coming here as a kid, because of how much the vast mansion scared me.

I paused as I opened the door. The deep cavernous entryway greeted me with a chill. I wanted nothing more than to run back to the car, and drive far away from the horrors of my childhood, but I loved my grandfather, and had to fulfill his final request of me. My grandfather was my only protector, and companion in this house. I was usually by his side when I was here, though I never saw him elsewhere. We would spend long days playing in the sitting room, or stay up all night reading from his library. He was a fun man, even if he never went outside.

The stairs creaked a sickly moan, as I climbed up them. I stumbled over one of the steps, and clutched onto the banister to catch myself from falling. While looking down I could see a thick dust seeping out of the cracks between the boards. As soon as the dust appeared, it dissipated in a hasty creep down the stairs, flowing as if one object.

“One Hell of a draft,” I said, chuckling to myself to keep away the fear that this building still holds on me. I reached the top of the stairs, and the beginnings of the long dark hallway to grandfather’s old room. The hallway was never my favorite part of the house. The lights were spaced too far apart, making dark spots in front of most of the rooms. As a child I always ran through here, desperately trying to reach my grandfather’s room, or my room which was right next to his. I crept down the hall, desperately trying to keep my composure as an adult. I made it halfway to the bedroom, when I heard the rapping. A slow knock, knock, knock came from behind the door next to me. The knocks were far too uniformed not to be deliberate. My heart jumped to my throat while I turned to stare at the nondescript door. knock, knock, knock, it came again. My first instinct was to run, but my curiosity held me back. Knock, knock, knock. I walked closer to the door, put my hand on the nob, and threw it open. In a flash, a small black blur darted out of the room, and down the hall. I screamed a bit when I saw it, but started to laugh when my more rational side took over.

 “Just a cat.” I laughed to myself obliviously. “Stupid creature got shut in here.” I started back off, down the hallway still laughing to keep my confidence up. When I got close to the room, I broke into a brisk jog. “Almost there,” was the thought that raced through my mind. I reached the split in the hall in front of his room.

I threw the door open, then hit the light switch.    I scanned the large cavernous room, inspecting it for any irregularities. The room was as I remembered, except for a few thick clouds of the same black dust I kicked up on the stairs. The thickest cloud, which was thinning faster than the rest, was in front of the dresser I needed to go to. I walked through the cloud, as it finally disappeared, and bent down to open the bottom drawer. The box was right where the note said it would be, rapped in a blanket buried underneath several folders. I picked it up, and found a note taped to it.

Dear Brandon I’m sorry I had to pass this burden on to you. They said they would not let me pass, until I found a suitable heir to this horror. The key to the box was lost long ago, a sign that it must NEVER be opened. Do not pick the lock, force it open, or try to break it in any way. The dark forces in this container must never be freed. Again I am sorry for giving this to you, and I wish you the best. Out of all of the people I could have given this to, you were the one I trusted the most. Now run, get out of this house, and never come back. RUN!

I stared at the box, trying to figure out what spooked grandpa so bad, while completely ignoring his warning. The box itself was very nondescript. It had no distinguishing markings. No carvings, or engravings, no scratches, or signs of damage. It was by all accounts just a plain, dark wood box. The lock was the same, just a metal hole in the front of the wood. I studied it so hard, that I barely noticed the shadow being cast over me.

I turned around with a jump to see the large, almost solid cloud of black dust forming between me, and the door. The dust was slowly reaching towards me. I could feel it’s dark intentions for me. It wanted me.    I fell against the wall next to me, desperately trying to make my legs cooperate with me, so I could run. I found the erg when the form shifted towards me. I scampered to the doorway, still clutching the wall, while watching the twisting cloud following my every movement. Wisps of dust blew up to me, swirling around my shaking body. The dust felt heavy, as if it was sapping my energy, burdening where it touched. I jumped as the main mass reached out to me. Tripping over my feet, I darted out the door, and into the hallway.

I froze up again, terrified out of my mind, as I heard the noise. Every door in the hall was pounding, shaking violently, as more of the mist seeped through the cracks. I looked around, still clutching the box as close to my chest as I could. Most of the hall was full of the specter by now, but I could still make it down the center.    Summoning my last ounce of strength, and courage. I sprinted straight down the middle of the hall. I could feel the nightmare brushing against me, trying to slow me down. The mist would try to wrap around me, as if it was trying to catch me.

By the time I reached the stairs, every muscle in my body was screaming at me to stop. I wanted nothing more than to stop, and take a break, but I knew the monster behind me would not allow me the luxury. As I came to the top step, I looked over my shoulder to see nothing more than the black mist choking off the hallway, blocking any view of it. As I reached the center of the stairs, I felt my foot catching on the same loose bored I tripped over coming up. As I desperately grasped at the banister, to stop my fall, missing at every futile reach, the box flew out of my hand. I spun backwards during my descent, to see more of the foul dust, seeping from the very same step.

 Most of my memory from there is blank. All I can recall is the pain from my broken ankle, as well as the small trickle of blood from my head. I only have a few vague images still with me of the box laying open on the floor, and of the near solid form of mist drawing close, and consuming me as I lay there in pain.

I still do not know how I made it to my grandfather’s bed, nor why I woke up with the box on my lap. How the box became locked, is another mystery to me, as is why I cannot force myself to leave this hideous place, even though my very soul screams for me to run.

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