Living Treasures

With long-established skill, Andy's slim metallic hooked blade slid through the Georgian window's gap and flicked the simple catch free. After securing the well-used piece inside his greatcoat's outer pocket, Andy's gloved hands eased the window open. Levering himself onto the sill, he paused. Thanks to the Christmas Eve full moon, his eyes soon accustomed themselves to the dark interior. There were no obstructions beneath him. 

"Anything?" Mark asked.

"Quiet!" Andy snapped through his clenched teeth. He took a 

deep breath and listened. There weren't servants or dogs rushing their way. Next, he checked behind and across the isolated 

country mansion's extensive frost encrusted rear grounds. 

Beyond the shadow of the window's enormous recess, the full-moon's light bathed the open surroundings like a passive beacon. Andy motioned Mark for an extra boost, then with controlled ease, swivelled and lowered his feet onto the shiny parquet floor. 

"So far, so good," Mark hissed as he pulled himself through the 

opened window. 

Andy sighed. Thanks to their meticulous planning, everything had worked out as expected. Soon they'd take whatever was 

available. After tonight, they'd be set for life. This was the jackpot both always dreamt about taking - and it was a few minutes from their eager grasps.

A broad silvery beam of moonlight reflected off the flooring, enabling Andy to see pictures hanging over a wide granite 

fireplace. But they weren't important.

Mark gave a loud sniff. "What's that?"

"Fresh polish," Andy replied, tapping his boot's heel against the herringbone patterned floor. Then another aroma tingled inside 

his nostrils. One he readily cecalled.  

Mark pointed to a thin crack of light which outlined the drawing 

room's closed door. 

Andy tugged back at his friend's dark coat's sleeve. "Listen few 

more seconds before we move."

As though responding to an unheard command, the gentle 

countryside breeze eased. Nothing disturbed the sedate interior's silence. "According to Doran, the hallway's oak staircase leads 

straight to the bedroom." 

"The guy's an idiot," Mark whispered. 

"Yeah," Andy said. "He's got fool written all over his forehead."

Mark nodded in agreement. "I can't wait to find this 'treasure' though. Do you think it's gold bars?"

"Jewels and cash only, remember? Gold bars are too heavy to 

carry off."

"Pity," Mark sniggered. "Always fancied one for a doorstop."  

With the window left slightly ajar, Andy eased forward towards the door. It opened silently, and after another swift check, they 

entered the candlelit vaulted hallway. Overhead was an 

enormous crystal chandelier, with what seemed like thousands of individual glinting teardrops. 

They carried on in silence to the marbled spiral stairway with its lush, patterned woollen carpet. 

"Let's go hunting," Andy said. Despite his bravura, something 

about the living room's other aroma troubled him.

They stopped outside what must be Doran's master bedroom. As ever, Andy took charge and eased the door open. Satisfied 

everything was okay, he entered the opulent room. Thanks to the opened curtains, strong moonlight highlighted a large oak 

dressing table along with three cushioned high-backed chairs. Yet another crystal chandelier hung overhead, with much smaller unlit candles peppered about the walls. Something caught his eye. To his astonishment, there was a shape beneath the quilt. He 

pointed at the bed.

Like a hungry predator stalking its prey, Mark approached until 

one stride from the bed, he drew out his six-inch serrated hunting knife. Andy readied himself on the bed's other side for its occupant to 

flee and motioned he was ready. 

"You!" Mark spat out. "Get up! Now!"

But the figure didn't budge.

A mixture of anger and nervous energy surged through Andy's 

body as his free hand grabbed the heavy, silken quilt. With a mighty heave, he flung it back as Mark thrust down his knife into - nothing.

A delicate voice came from behind. "I am so glad you accepted my invitation to attend."

Mark raised his knife, its menacing honed edge glistening in the moonlight. 

Doran, casually brushed aside a fallen lock of his long pearl-grey hair. 

With unblinking eyes, Andy tried to calm his racing heartbeat. "Come over here where we can see."  

Doran remained still. "You appear somewhat shocked. Please 

follow me - I have a lot to resolve."

Mark immediately lunged forward. The instant Doran raised his left arm, a blinding flash of sickening yellow light filled the room. Andy screwed-up his eyes as wave upon wave of nausea surged through his entire body. But the instant the light ceased, so too did the sensation. 

Through tear-filled eyes, he noticed Mark standing as though frozen, his body balancing on his right leg. Although dazed, Andy went unsteadily to his friend.

"What's happening?" Mark whispered. "I can't move."

"Release the weapon and follow me," Doran said in a deep, 

menacing voice. "Do not retrieve it, otherwise you will suffer."

However, the tone and the slight smirk on Doran's lips gave Andy 

the impression the man wanted further confrontation. 

With a suppressed thud, the knife struck the carpet. Doran turned to exit the room and as he did, Mark reached down, grabbed his 

knife and secured it inside his trousers' waist belt.    

"Please follow me," Doran called back as he headed towards the 

stairway. "Do not be afraid - yet."

Blinking hard, Andy staggered after the man. 

Doran continued down the stairway into the living room. At its doorway, Andy and Mark stopped to rest against its sturdy wooden frame.  

"You'll pay for this," Mark said. 

Though threatening, Andy couldn't help but notice his friend's 

shaking hand. 

"Payment?" Doran repeated from somewhere in the room. 

"Future encounters are about my pleasure, for which you pay."

Another wave of queasiness hit Andy. He held Mark's arm to support himself, trying to summon up as much menace as possible. "Show yourself! Or are you scared?"

There was a chuckle. "All in good time."

Despite Andy's grip, Mark freed himself and staggered towards the nearby armchair and fumbled for a match inside his coat. 

"What an excellent idea," Doran said, his voice appearing 

somehow nearer.   

"Stay still," Mark warned him. "Don't come any closer. Do what 

we say, and you won't get hurt."

"How considerate," Doran said with a leering chuckle. "Please 

wait before making any further threats." And there was no disguising his mocking and menacing tone when he spoke next.  "Do your eyes hurt? Because soon they will be the least of your problems."

"You'd better do as we say!" Andy shouted. "Sit down!"

"My! Your speech and manners are poor," Doran said with a 

hollow laugh. "I must discover other frailties."

As Andy and Mark remained silent beside the armchair, somehow candles in the room became lit. Doran became visible sitting opposite them on the three-seater settee. Both friends moved towards him, but Doran remained motionless and impassive. Something about Doran's facial expression unnerved Andy.   

Even when Mark pressed the honed knifepoint against the man's soft cheek, Doran remained calm and undaunted. "You know what we've come for," Mark spat out. "Hand them over and we'll be 

quick with you."

"Quick?" Doran repeated with a slight shake of the head. "Believe

me, there shall be nothing quick about what will happen."

"We're the ones with the knife remember," Andy said.

"Yet I possess much more," Doran said with a leer.

Andy squirmed. 

"Where's this treasure of yours?" Mark continued. "Tell us, or we'll slice you one piece at a time." 

"How exhilarating!" Doran drooled. "I look forward to enjoying our 

time together."

"Where is it?" Andy spat out as he reached Doran and grabbed 

his jacket's lapel. "Where's your treasure?"

"Over there hanging on the wall," Doran said, pointing towards 

the fireplace. 

Andy followed the steady extended index finger. His gaze rested on the large coloured pictures hanging there. In themselves they seemed ordinary enough, but maybe their gold-coloured frames might be worth taking. "What's behind them? A safe or something else?" 

"No," said Doran with an emphatic shake of his head.

"Are they valuable?" Mark asked.

"Priceless. Nothing like their kind is on this planet. I call them my 'Living Treasures'. But time passes. Please examine the central one with the silver skull. Also, please examine its table. I shall remain seated."

Andy stared into Doran's dark, soulless eyes and shuddered.

"Are you uncomfortable? Trust me… it will get much worse."

"Quiet! Or I'll kill you myself!"

"Many have tried, yet none succeeded."

"Think not?" Andy shouted back. Unable to contain his anger, he 

snatched the knife from Mark's hand and drew it across Doran's 

throat. But to his horror, no blood spurted out, nor did Doran 

make any attempt at protecting himself. 

"Far too late to harm me," Doran sniggered as he dabbed a small

silken handkerchief against a trace of clear saliva trickling from 

the corner of his mouth. "Do you sense the blood pumping 

through your veins? I do. It is such a long time since i had anyone fresh. Now there are two additions for my collection."

Unable and unwilling to comprehend, Andy backed away. As he 

did, Mark took the knife and thrust it into Doran's chest. But again the man didn't even flinch. Mark released the knife and stepped back, his eyes wild with bewilderment. 

Doran pulled out the knife and examined it. "How exhilarating. We will enjoy each other's company - at least I will." He swept a hand from left to right and, as though pulled by invisible forces, the door and window slammed shut. 

The two friends stared at each other in stunned silence as Doran 

stood. 

"We three are somewhat similar, for we are collectors," Doran said. "We collect people's possessions and lives. However, in my case also their souls." Tell me, do you recollect the occasion we met?"

"Last month at the tavern," Andy said. "I sold you a packet from our latest consignment."

"Yes, but your powder was bad. It destroyed the body I had, but 

fortunately I was tiring of it anyway. Now I must wait for another more suitable one to make itself available. These physical forms 

you possess are too tainted for my requirements."

"Wait," Andy said, his dread increasing. "You said 'Destroyed?'" That means you're..."

"Dead, is the term to describe such matters. I am not dead, more unique and dare I say... intriguing?"

"But…?" 

"Lost for words, Andrew? Let me explain. I, amongst others, have

wandered this world for many an age, entertaining ourselves with 

its inhabitants. We have discovered greed, lust, and revenge as qualities certain mortals seek to improve their perceived worth. We merely merely enjoy the fruits of our enticements, by allowing your natural instincts freedom. But enough idle banter, let me 

introduce you to my 'Living Treasures'."

Doran beckoned them to the picture and, like Mark, Andy found 

himself unconsciously drawn towards the fireplace. The image 

showed a long table, laid out for an enormous feast, where every sitting person wore different clothing from historical times. It reminded him of a fancy dress party, except none of the figures appeared to be doing anything other than sit there.

The closer he leaned towards the picture, so that other smell he 

encountered when first entering the room increased. A moment 

later, he remembered. Blood! 

Andy felt himself drawn inside the picture. His eyes became 

fixated on one of the seated figures near the front. The face and 

clothing looked familiar. "Mark...?"

This picture is my most recent collection, but the others I use 

whenever special occasions require," Doran said. "As you may 

distinguish, one seat remains unoccupied."

"Where's Mark gone?"   

"Can you not see him? Please look closer."

Andy leaned forward and examined every wide-eyed face, until his disbelieving eyes rested upon a figure near the front. It was Mark! His brain raced as he retraced their movements from the moment they entered the building. There was something else in the 

bedroom. He remembered looking at a huge distorted form, 

something which was distinct and hideous. He gasped as the image became clearer.

"Ah! You remember my true self at last," Doran grinned as he 

drew alongside and scratched at his throat. "Now I must insist it is time to re-join your friend. There are others attending tonight, all of whom are desperate to experience a new dining guest."

Andy let out a high-pitched scream. He tried raising his arms, but found them pinned to his sides. No matter how he tried, they remained fixed and immobile. 

A cold clammy sensation engulfed him as Doran stopped inches 

from his face, his gaping mouth dribbling with delight. Although 

unable to feel anything grabbing him, Andy sensed himself rising 

and turning. Though his legs didn't budge, to his horror he moved

inch by inch towards the painting, until his back pressed hard 

against it. A long silent scream came from his mouth as his body 

bent forward and moved backwards, until merciful insensibility 

overwhelmed his being.

It was impossible to guess the time spent in this silent 

impenetrable darkness. But during this time, his nostrils remained filled with the worst of stenches, which didn't vary in its foul intensity. He remained unaware of his surroundings, until a sudden burst of light burned at his eyes.. Once used to the glare, Andy tried to check his surroundings. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't turn his head or body.

Only the neatly laid table, along with those people seated opposite and alongside, were visible. 

His eyes solely were capable of movement. Piece by piece, images of distant memories assaulted his brain. 

Pure, uncontrollable fear overwhelmed him. These were the people he'd seen inside the painting. Men in their different outfits sitting stock-still at the table. Strangely, there was an empty chair alongside him.

An ear-piercing screech from somewhere to his right shook his senses. No matter how hard he strained his eyes, Andy couldn't pick out 

its cause. Several seconds later came a prolonged agonised 

moan. 

After another lengthy period, there was a pause, followed by the 

noise of steady clicking footsteps approaching, accompanied by a dragging sound. the noises stopped close behind him.

"Your turn will be next," a coarse grating voice whispered in to his ear. "Do you recollect the girl Mark harmed some time ago? The one he punished with his knife?" Her dying wish was to have you both suffer."

Unable to stop himself, images forced itself into Andy's mind - everyone he and Mark had injured of killed for a variety of reasons. Warm tears flowed down his burning cheeks. Then a long withered finger slithered over his face, allowing a teardrop to trickle onto the broken fingernail. It lingered for a few seconds before being removed.

"Eyes are the windows of the soul and I enjoy all they expose. I 

believe you have the potential revealing more than your friend."

Andy willed himself to scream, but no matter how hard he tried, 

no sound emerged. Loud scraping sounds and rustle of clothing made him move his eyes to the right. Mark now sat beside him,  his face drained of all life. Only his bulging eyes and tears betrayed any form of expression or movement!   

"And yet my next pleasure must wait," the voice continued. "I  have to attend to my visitors' needs. By all means, please watch. They will notice my new arrivals, and soon will enjoy all you can offer when i resume our acquaintance."

When he closed his eyes, Andy tried forcing himself to believe he 

was in the middle of a nightmare. Then the faint impression of 

moving light played on his eyelids. He opened them and noticed 

distant unfocused figures and deep, coarse sounds. On six 

occasions, two enormous blurry plum-red eyes loomed right in front of him, but Andy couldn't focus on any of the faces or forms. 

Movements beyond him continued for a long while, and with 

increasing dread.

Countless instances of the pain and suffering he'd caused played out in his mind. There were so many, he forced himself to picture something else and looked to his side. Mark was next to him.  

"Your turn," the voice slobbered next to his neck. "But remember, I only demand silence in this room, elsewhere you may scream and beg as much as you please. in fact, we prefer it much more when you do."

An overpowering and unstoppable force lifted Andy from the chair and propelled him towards an inky black void to the right.  

"My guests are waiting to ensure your first experience is 

memorable. Welcome to my world - and to your Hell."

Silent screams came from Andy's mouth as disembodied laughter filled his soul. Until finally, an overwhelming, all-consuming darkness enveloped his soul.