All Became Still

“Dear Mr. James Holger

In three days time from this letter arriving, you will receive an invitation. It will be from your old friend Walter Coven. It will talk of a party that you will be the guest of honor for. Go to it, and kill Mr. Coven. We hoped that he would never discover the secrets of his family's history. But, to the detriment of all mankind, he has. The box of bullets that came with this letter are for your Webley revolver. They are special, as they are encased within a layer of sap. The sap came from a tree that is one of a kind. One that could only grow over a dead priest's grave. Use that ammo on Walter, kill him before it's too late. If all works out as we think it will. We will contact you again soon.

From A Man Who Knows Much”

James awoke in a chair that was behind a large wooden desk. His vision was blurry, not knowing where he was for a moment. Stacks of papers covered most of the top of it. His Webley revolver was on the stack that was closest to him. A thick string went from its handle and had been looped around his belt. An old habit he’s had since he fought the Germans in the Great War. His leather jacket hung on a coat rack next to the door of the dimly lit room. His white undershirt looked to have blood on it and was soaked through with sweat. His black pants had stains on them as well, looking to be more blood or some wine. His long hair was a mess, too. He reached into his pocket to grab his watch, it wasn’t there for some reason; having no idea where it could even be.

James stumbled to a clock that stood on the far side of the study. The room was dark, boards creaked under his boots with every step. Heavy rain could be heard outside, rain pelting the large stained glass windows of the study. Lightning flashed for a moment before it dissipated back into the darkness. The lights flickered, or just stopped working completely for a few seconds at a time. Once he got to it, he read what it said, 11:40 pm. He needed to get out, now. Once midnight strikes, once this clock rings out that a new day has come, he’s dead. Along with everybody else in the town below.

James checked how much ammo he had remaining for his revolver that wasn't already loaded. Twelve rounds, all blessed with the holy sap that came from a tree. He didn’t know how that stuff worked. From what he had seen Walter do these past couple days. It didn’t matter, his old friend needed to die. James had hoped, though, that he could have reasoned with him. That he could have had him stop the ritual, to have him revert from the monster he was slowly becoming. What he had seen was nothing short of supernatural. Everybody else was dead besides him and that creature now. This manor that sat atop the hill above the small town of Bromer. Was soon to be his tomb.

He had to focus down the paths, remember where he had been before. Something was in the wine Walter had given to him. To all of them. He barely remembered five minutes ago. Let alone when he had first arrived two days prior. Bits and pieces were all he could think of. Like fragments of a mirror that had been shattered, with most of the pieces being lost to him.The concoction he had been given, though, is slowly wearing off. Minute by minute he is able to remember more and more of what had occurred.

Just when James thought his luck wasn’t able to get any worse, the lights went out completely. He had heard a pop before all of the lights exploded in their sockets, making him duck for cover from all their shrapnel.

“You are the last, James. An outcome I had hoped for.” Said Walter, voice booming down the halls at James, shaking the very manor itself.

James didn’t need to respond, he tried pleading with Walter earlier in the day. Now, he had to kill him before the clock struck twelve. The walls shook for a split second before Walter’s voice reached him again.

“The others had to die, they had to become the key for a door that is deep within the stone of this place, James. That is where I’ll be. Where I'll be waiting.”

Always speaking in fucking riddles, James thought to himself. I should have seen what he was sooner. He thought back to when he had first gotten here. Walter looked normal. Bright blue eyes, dirty blonde hair with perfect posture. Pale skin, and a scar that was below his left eye from the shrapnel he had gotten during the Great War. But, as the people began to disappear or were found to be brutally murdered, he slowly changed. At first it was subtle. James was the only one that noticed because he knew him so well. His skin began to look clammy, veins started to appear slightly around his eyes and on his neck. Subtle, but noticeable once enough people died.

A pungent smell of rotten meat came from a doorway ahead, light emanated from the opening. James got to the doorway and stared at what was beyond. His stomach began to rush to his throat, holding it down. The room looked to be a guest bedroom of sorts. A large bed on the far side of the room, framed paintings decorated the walls. In the middle, a pile of corpses were neatly stacked. The ten bodies surrounded a stone altar that looked to be ancient. It was shaped to look like a branchless tree, having a pair of stone hands that reached out the top of it straight up. Bits of it were weathered or had been chipped away over the years. It was covered in dried blood. Candles circled the bodies about five feet out from the base of the pile. Fog rolled from the candles inward towards the bodies, distorting symbols that had been drawn on the ground in that area with blood. Heat radiated from the room, adding to the nausea James felt. Atop the blood stained altar was something familiar. It was a pocket watch that floated in the air above the bloodied stone. It was his that he lost, hearing the hands of it moving as they ticked away somehow.

He stepped toward the altar carefully. The fog moved away from his feet with every step once he got past the candles. The thin line of space between it and his boots revealed more of the symbols that were within its haze. James glanced at the bodies, hard to tell who was who because of their conditions. Something, though, was consistent. They looked like husks, like they had been dead for years already. Their blood was drained, he just knew it. He saw what Walter had done to their friend Michael last night. The one who survived the longest with James. All of the body's skin looked more like leather as it tightened around their bones, drained of all moisture of any kind.

Once he got close enough. He reached for the watch that floated in mid air. It snapped into his hands, drawn in by his outward grasp. James looked at the time, 11:43pm. The watch brought back his memories of the last few days. No longer distorted, no longer impeded by the concoction that Walter had given him. He knew where he was in this place.

“Within a barrel that once held joyful spirits.” He heard Walters’ voice say, “Shall you find the entrance to a place deemed divine.”

The wine cellar. James hurried out of the room. The place seemed brighter now to him as he ran. The storm outside raged, flashes of lightning lit the halls as he rushed through them. They seemed to strike more frequently the closer he got to the kitchen.

The kitchen, he remembered the layout well as it was the first place somebody had been murdered. It was Walters’ girlfriend, Samantha. Her head had been hacked off with a cleaver and her body had been drained of blood before anybody even found her. A good cover for Walter, killing her first would make it harder for the others to suspect that he had done it.

Once James had gotten to the entrance, he aimed his revolver forward, stepping into the room. It felt warm with a smell of stagnant water, like he had just walked into a swamp. The muggy air stuck to his skin, making him start to sweat after just a few moments. He looked at the door that was next to the stove on the right side of the room. He went through it, looking at the void that was the staircase just past it. He looked at his watch, which he could somehow see clearly in the blackness. 11:46 pm. He had to move.

He stepped down the steps as fast he could, almost slipping as they became more slick the farther he got down them. A string of lights that somehow still had power were lit across the ceiling going from one end to the other. A huge barrel that James could sleep in comfortably if he wanted to was open. The muggy air flowed from it as he could see an opening on the far side, like a tunnel. He hunched over on all fours to crawl through the opening.

The tunnel was like a portal that led to the past. The room beyond was much older. Clumps of moss layered the stone brick walls. Spots that you could put torches in were mounted on them. The ceiling was natural stone, like the rest had been carved out and designed to look like bricks at some point. The floor had a brick design as well. James almost slipped and fell as he took his first steps on the stony floor. The ground was slick, very slick. The path led deeper into the earth. He had to keep going.

Each step he took echoed down the tunnel, making it obvious that he was going down it from a mile away. The watch he had gotten started to glow in his pocket. Once he took it out, it became a ball of white light. He could hear the hands tick away. Even those echoed in this ancient path. He looked at the time, 11:50 pm

“Enter, friend. To see what has become of me. What shall soon become of all.” He heard Walter say from deeper within the path. This time, though, his voice seemed much more human. Not like the monster he had now become.

After a couple of minutes of walking, James could see a turn in the tunnel ahead. He went to the corner to peek around it. What lay beyond was a stone door that was left ajar. A distinct bloody handprint could be seen in the middle of it. He rounded the corner, heading towards it. He wished he had more time to look over this place because even the door was a sight to see. The light he held revealed the intricate carvings that were on it. He glanced at it while he carefully pushed the door open. It depicted a man in the center with what looked to be 9 mummified bodies surrounding it. 11:53 pm.

He stopped in his tracks, now beyond the doorway. A red light came from another opening about fifty feet ahead of him. The light dimmed then became bright again over and over, pulsing as it was accompanied by a droning hum. At its brightest it heated the hallway he stood in extremely. Blood ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling, pooling on the flat floor somehow; then forming into red mounds as they collected more and more blood. Streams of steam rose from them. James could feel their heat as it irradiated through his boots while he tried to avoid them. 11:56 pm.

James walked through the light, revealing Walter as he floated in the middle of a room. Nine bodies were on the floor around him, wrapped in black and gold cloth; thorned wreaths lay upon their heads. Lit candles surrounded the bodies as well. At four evenly spaced spots around the large circle of bodies, four of those stone altars James had seen before stood. These ones, though, seemed to be carved from the ground itself. The originals it seemed as the one upstairs looked to be a mere imitation of these four. They were also much larger, almost the same height as Walter as he floated in the air. The red light came from them, along with the blistering heat.

The walls were pitch black, no light reflected off of them. They looked to be carved out of a black crystal of some kind. He looked at Walter who faced away from him as he remained in the air. His arms were held straight out to the sides, palms faced up; with steaming blood dripping from them. When the blood hit the ground, symbols would form from the drops then move to a random spot within the circle. He wore a black robe. His head then snapped to the side, now looking towards James.

“Hello, James.” Said Walter, “I’m glad you came, to see what shall soon be done.” His eyes were a dark red, thick veins protruding from around the sockets. His smile was horrid as his teeth were black. His lips were a pale pink and his complexion was akin to a corpse. His voice seemed twisted somehow. Like something else spoke within him.

“You’ve already done enough. Walter.” Said James. He gripped his revolver tight, then aimed it at the creature that floated before him. As soon as he had, though, the bullets within the cylinder began to glow. The gun became warm in his hand, but no sense of danger crossed his mind. Only peace, a cold breeze somehow washed over him. Leaves shook in a breeze somewhere far away. It was the ammunition somehow.

James looked at the gun as he saw them glow as well. “You think a gun can stop me?” He laughed, “You think it can stop what is to come? I only answer to the oldest of this world, James. For I am his scribe. Look upon my work, and fear what is soon to come. A new dawn shall soon rise for all.”

11:58 pm

The revolver now shook within James' hand, the room became a blur besides Walter himself down the sights. The heat dissipated along with everything else. Focus, pure focus took him. He stood there for a moment.

11:59 pm

A shot rang out, the bullet had hit the dead center of the man's chest. From the newly made hole, a beam of white light came from deep within. Walter screamed, the other voice from within faded from the tones until all that remained was Walter himself; he then collapsed to the ground. The red glow from the altars faded. A gust of wind blew from the entrance of the room, snuffing out all of the candles. The only source of light now was James' watch, which now floated on its own above his head.

James looked at his friend's corpse, then cocking the revolver's hammer back; shot another round into the body. Then another, and another until the cylinder was spent. Small beams of light came from each new wound.

All became still as the new day came.