The Nightbringer

Elias tried to make out the blotted words as he held the small piece of torn paper, and put his hand on his face in confusion. Whomever wrote this letter, did he rush? When did he leave? And why did the letter rip? There must be the complete letter, somewhere. The ink had smudged, leaving a few fingerprints that appeared monstrously thick, like they belonged to a hand not human. 

You have until midnight the chunk of paper warned. 

He slammed the antique drawer back in place and crumpled the paper up and stowed it away in his left breast pocket. Until midnight what? How long do I have until midnight? Shit, only a few hours. Wait, but how do I know it's midnight tonight, too? 

He peered outside the window at the swiftly darkening sky. The path would turn dark soon before long, and he had to think quick about a way out, though he knew quite well the letter may have been left long ago, forgotten to collect dust in an old abandoned mansion. But none of that mattered now. He had to flee.

And really Elias should have known better. This rickety mansion that perched on a lonesome hill all the way across town, nobody wanted it. Yet there he was inheriting this pigsty after a long messy internecine fight among siblings and distant cousins. All five bedrooms were painted the same mossy green, with soil brown and dusty flooring warped by a leak that sprung during winter. 

Come to think of it, maybe this letter was left by an envious family member! He sneered at the thought. But who? Who would threaten him? 

Elias pulled out a filter 99 from his pocket, and flipped his lighter. He burned the end, and took a long drag too quickly. He coughed and sucked in dry air. Then he took another drag, this time more cautiously, and descended down the hollow flight of stairs into the foyer and sprang out the front door. 

An hour had passed since he read the letter until now. Elias scratched his beard in contemplation and paced back and forth on the porch. He tried to think logically yet all attempts to remain calm eluded him. He lit another cigarette. The moon illuminated the night sky, a breeze wafted beneath his nose that smelled of the lawn's pungent wildflowers and warm soil that baked all day under the sun glow. 

"Ah, I've got it!"

He flinched at the thought that entered his brain. Did he get followed on the way to the house? He did notice a couple footprints outlined in the garden bed outside, below the bedroom window. The gardeners, Elias had remembered muttering earlier. Yet they always seemed a little too keen on him. His heart started racing. What on earth could they want from me? Are they bitter about how much they're makin' off me?   

He tore open the cold metal gate and climbed down the unruly hill. Each gust whipped up the freshly fallen leaves from the first of the Autumn season. He huffed. Taking breath tired his chest as he leaped and tried to avoid the holes that dotted the lawn. 

Suddenly he lost his footing and heard a crack. His ankle had snapped, and he collapsed in the wet mud.

His heart thumped and thumped, and he felt each pulse run its course through the veins of his neck and hands. "The pain, it's unbearable!" Elias shrieked as he limped back up the hill, his face gradually turning number with each step. 

How can I leave? The way is too dark in every direction and I've no flashlight, nothing! And I've sprained my ankle now! 

"I must get away before I go mad! Was this for me after all?" Elias mumbled to himself.

The thought ate at him like he was prey in the open forest. Whom did this letter come from? And for how long had it been collecting dust in this old drawer? This old house could narrate as many stories as it had notches in its walls and creaks in its floorboards. 

Memories haunted the hollows of his mind. This house always gave him the chills, from the time he was a child until now. The halls were too long, too empty, and its rooms had a perpetual cold draft hovering above his head. 

As he continued to strut forward, he spun around, the house again standing tall over him.

"I'm going around in circles!" he cried out.

His eyes flared, the pupils floated as though they were swimming in a sea that shone white. Something within him stirred alive. Each passing moment stretched on as the clicking noise grew louder. His adam's apple bobbed with every strained gulp of air. He glared at the mirror that was fastened to the wall, and focused on his expression. While he felt his face remain as still as a stone, the creases of his mouth tilted upward.

 He lunged at his reflection.

"Stop it, stop it! My God, make it all go away!" 

He shook the mirror then he tore out clumps of his own hair. What am I seeing? Did I smile without realizing it? Elias punched the mirror and it fractured into a hundred tiny pieces.

Perhaps its better if I hide away in this closet with all the lights off, then if anyone comes they won't see me, he reasoned. He removed one of the shelves that held a couple shoes and tossed the shoes aside while setting the shelf on the floor. He crouched down and tried to fit beneath the coat rack but he smacked his head on the closet rod. "Dammit I'm too tall!", he snapped. 

The clock approached eleven-fifteen. A mere forty five minutes to go. His ankle continued to throb and was warm to the touch. "I'd have to walk miles on a sprained ankle until I found something open! Maybe I can call someone!" Elias fumbled for his phone, which was dead as a doornail. 

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the silk curtains, and rustled something in the closet's shadow. He squinted his eyes as his heart skipped a beat. He picked up a large folded sheet of paper. He flipped the paper open and as he read the contents, his shoulders drooped and he tilted his head back in shame.

"for the overdue payments to be made, or else the electricity will be shut off."