When Night Falls

The Merrill House at the end of the lane has always been a problem to the townsfolk of Willow Haven. The town is small, and it rains the majority of the time. Perfect for bundling up in your favorite sweater while you visit the coffee shop. The Merrill house has been an eyesore. It is a dilapidated house that has never been kept up, because people refuse to be caught on the property. Why? That is a great question, and I am here to find the answers.

My name is Kit Harland. I am a journalist for the New York Times. I also just happen to be a native of Willow Haven. I grew up with the tales of Merrill House. How there are thousands of bodies buried beneath the rotting flower beds. How it is haunted by all of the spirits of the Merrill ancestors, and how Mr. Merrill himself is a vampire. That's why you never see him leave his home. The stories followed me when I moved at thirteen. I would dream about it. It was constantly on my mind. So now, I am back to get to the bottom of it once and for all. 

I won't lie, I was one of the kids that tormented poor Mr. Merrill. Everyone was terrified, so the whole town kind of just looked the other way while it happened. I remember we would ride up on our bikes and just scream. Anything, really. Then we'd ride away because, supposedly, one of our buddies would "see something." No one ever wanted answers.

That's why I came back. In New York, I decided to reach out to whoever owned the place. It took some time, but eventually, I received a letter back. I wrote, not really, under the guise of writing an article on historical homes. The reply I got was very enthusiastic, and the owner was keen on having me visit. Once I got the Okay from my boss, I barely gave myself time to pack, because I was so excited to get out there.

I drove almost all night, not really wanting to stop to sleep, but you know, I am only human. Driving up, I feel a small sense of trepidation. I can't help it, this is an eerie place. The gate is still the same. It is a large wrought iron gate, like the ones you see in scary movies. It is decorated with vines made of iron, making it almost impossible to see through. I notice a camera pointing directly at me, then allow my gaze to fall on the intercom buzzer. I press the button, and a few moments later, the gate opens. Its hinges groaned in protest at the movement.

"None of those stories are true, Kit." I tell myself quietly as I begin walking the drive. It feels like the house is getting farther away, the closer I get. Like it doesn't really want me knowing its secrets. Once I finally reach the doors, I take one of the large, lion knocker handles in my hand. I'm a pretty tall guy, and I have to reach well above my head to do so. I let it drop, and the sound rings out everywhere, I notice a flock of birds take flight from a nearby tree. I wait for a few minutes, starting to feel a bit defeated, when finally the door swings slowly open.

"Hello?" I say as I walk in. I look around, waiting to see a footman, or maid of sorts, but nothing. As I continue in, I am met with a large winding staircase. Then to my right what looks like a large drawing room, with a fire going. To my left it looks like a dining room. I don't dare take any more steps into the home, until I have specifically been invited to.

"Hello?" I call out again. "I am here to meet with Mr. Merrill. My name is Kit. He wrote to me not too long ag- "AARRGHH!" I had begun to circle, taking in my surroundings as I was speaking. Once I had turned back toward the stairs, a man had suddenly appeared in front of me. I jumped back.

"I'm sorry, Mr. I didn't see ya there. Gave me a bit of a fright." I say with a laugh. Then I get a really good look at him.

He is old, like decrepit old. He looks to be about late nineties, maybe a hundred. He is tall, taller than me, and thin. With beady black eyes that pierce into your soul. His white hair is sparse and wiry, hanging to just about his shoulders. His skin...his skin is almost transparent, as if you can almost see the bones. He is just staring at me.

"Uh" I clear my throat. "Are you Mr. Merrill? I am supposed to meet with him."

The old man takes a deep breath in. Then in a long, low voice "I am he." He breathes out, as if any sort of effort is too much. "I am pleased to meet you, Kit Harland." The only way I can describe this man is if an Ent from Lord of the Rings took on human form. He slowly holds out his right hand, offering me to shake it.

I take it, and have to keep myself from cringing. His skin feels like waif paper. So fragile, and dry. I gently shake it, and smile a bit uncomfortably. There is something off about this man.

“I am very pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Merrill. I have been looking forward to this for a very long time.” He still hasn’t let go of my hand. “I-uh-I-AHEM-I have always been fascinated by your home. Tha-than-thank you for allowing me to come visit you.” I mutter out. I will brag, and say that I am usually very eloquent, but here…something is making me uneasy. And he still hasn’t let go of my hand. 

“I am” Deep breath. “Glad you could come such a long way.” Another deep breath. “Please follow me into my drawing room” He finally unattached his hand from mine, and gestures to the room on my right. He starts trudging in that direction, moving so slowly. It’s as if his feet are made of lead. I follow behind him, eager to gain some answers. 

“So, Mr. Merrill, I have been a great admirer of your house since I was young. I used to live here, in Willow Haven, until I was about thirteen. I-” The man lifts his hand, a gesture for me to stop. He, little by little, seats himself on a large armchair, then holds out his hand for me to sit in the other. I do, and wait for him to start speaking.

“Do not lie to me, son.” I start. “You did not admire my house. You were one of the miscreants who would harass me and my home.” I gape at him. How the hell would he know that? Me specifically? 

“I know you merely came here for answers. As to who I am, what this place really is. I will give you the answers you so anxiously seek, I assure you. However, do not try to flatter me with false niceties. That will get you nowhere.” I haven’t been able to close my mouth. I start stammering, feeling embarrassed and guilty. 

“That’s enough, boy. Make a deal with me. All I require is your agreement, and attention.” 

I am perplexed. I need those answers. This could get me promoted, make me famous. “Yes, sir, deal. You don’t mind if I record this, do ya?” He shakes his head, and I sit back in the chair, waiting. Mr. Merrill smiles. A rueful smile, sinister, but he takes a deep breath in and starts his story.

“My grandfather was a young man when he first moved here to Willow Haven. He bought this house for his wife, after driving through the town one day. She saw it, and fell in love. He contacted the original owner the next day, and within the week they were moving in. My grandfather was shocked at how quickly the original owner wanted to part with it, but his elation was overriding his skepticism.” As he talks I start taking notes, I like having the recording just in case I miss something. 

Mr. Merrill takes another big breath, looking into space. “About a year after they moved in, my grandmother began acting strange. She would be ‘away with the fairies’ as my grandfather used to say. She’d spend the days wandering around, staring out the windows. Then at night she’d be more herself. My grandfather wasn’t worried, he just wanted her to be happy. This behavior continued on, even when they had children. My grandmother would ignore them during the day, then at night she’d want them to stay up ‘playing games’ she called it. Hide and seek mostly.” He pauses, pondering those times. 

“Did your grandfather ever get her checked out?” His dark eyes snap back to me. I squirm under his stare, but he doesn’t let up. 

“It was a different time back then. He didn’t want my grandmother to be unhappy in an institution, because that’s what would’ve happened.” He wags a long, gangly finger at me. I look away, and he continues. “Finally, my father was curious enough to follow her one night. She danced down the hallways, to the back doors leading to the garden.” 

“Literal dancing?” He nods.

“She’d be dancing a waltz perfectly, with no partner. Until she danced her way outside.”  

“What was outside?” I ask, while I feel goose bumps spread across my arms. 

“Not what, boy,” He leans forward in his chair a bit, then whispers, “Who.”

I sit up straighter. “Who? There was someone else waiting for her?” Merrill’s smile turns even wicked, and he simply nods. “I don’t understand. Had she been meeting this person for all those years?” Another steady nod. “And your grandfather never knew?” His smile doesn’t leave his face as he unhurriedly shakes his head. I scratch the side of my head with the rounded end of my pen, confused. 

“I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with the history of the house?” 

“It has everything to do with the house!” He suddenly shouts, making me jump back in my chair. “That man is the reason the house is the way it is. He is the reason that no family member, worker, or even mailman will step foot onto this property.” He leans forward again. “Would you like to know who this man is?” I nod eagerly. “He is the Devil.” 

I can’t help myself, I laugh. To my surprise he doesn’t. Mine quickly gets lodged in my throat when he stares at me, unblinking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize tha-” 

“Did not come here for the truth?” I try interjecting, but he carries on. “Did you not come here ready to exploit me for your own personal gain?” I try to sink more into the chair, try to become it. “Tell me, Kit Harland, did you come here for the truth? Or did you just come here for a tid bit of juicy gossip?” I look away, ashamed. He is right, but I can’t bring myself to say it. 

“Tell. Me.” He spits out. I take a deep breath, and look him in the eyes. 

“Yes, I wanted answers. Yes, I was hoping they would be, I don’t know, scandalous I guess. So, sue me. People love stories like that. However; Mr. Merrill, I am also here for the truth. Even if the truth is simple, and there's not much of a story, I still want to know. I still want to write about it. If you will allow me, of course.” 

Mr. Merrill stares. He stares, and stares for what feels like an eternity. Until finally, he sits back, and continues his story. “He was the Devil.” A pointed look in my direction, I say nothing. “I do not say that lightly, because I have spoken to him myself.” My eyes go wide, but I know better than to try and interrupt him at this point. 

“The previous owner made a deal. With who, you may guess that yourself. The deal was, if the person gave half their soul, the house would be taken care of, never needing anywork. To the demon himself, that was spending their nights with him in revelry. Fun. All the while draining their light. The fun wasn’t real, of course. The persons afflicted by this were always giving more than half when spending their nights with him. That’s why grandmother turned out as she did. Every member of my family that lived here, ended up taking the same deal. Unknowingly. He uses trickery to get what he wants. Once they had all perished, there was only me.” I can see tears fill his eyes, but he holds them back. 

“I had lost everyone, so what did I have to live for?” I shake my head, listening intensely. “Revenge. I would stay alive as long as possible to make sure this house fell apart. Painstakingly slow, piece by rotting piece. Once I die, this house will simply move on to its next victim. It will be hungry, being left alone for so long, but I will go peacefully knowing that I held out against that damn fool.” He crosses on ankle over his knee, and truly lounges at this point. “That is the truth of it, son. No frilly haunting, but the true, in the flesh Devil. Do you believe me?” 

I had to be honest. “I want to, Mr. Merrill. I do, because I believe there is a God. I believe there is evil in the world, but the actual Devil?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I believe this is your story, and what happened to you was-is real.” 

The man simply nods, staring into my soul. “Well, thank you for that. You gave me your honesty, that is all I can ask for.” 

I suddenly feel drained, unfocused. The adrenaline I had from arriving here must be wearing off. “Thank you, Mr. Merrill. I really do appreciate you allowing me into your home. I cannot wait to tell your story, and tell it correctly. I-” I rub my eyes. “I’m sorry. I unexpectedly feel tired. I think the excitement got to me.” I laugh at myself. 

“We’ve also been talking for quite some time. If you wish, you may rest here for the night.” 

“That is a very kind offer, but I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“It is no imposition. This is a very large house, with many rooms. Another deal, stay, and I will show the grounds tomorrow.”

Not having the energy to argue, I agree. He leads me up to one of the bedrooms, it’s nice for the rest of the house being run down. There is a fireplace, candles, and fancy bedding. It looks so inviting. Merrill leaves me to wash up and rest. Without taking anything off, I immediately lay down, and sleep takes me. 

I wake up with a bit of a start. I am…in the middle of the hallway. I must have been sleep walking. I try to turn back, but my feet take me to the stairs. The room is swaying-no. I dance down the stairs, into the back of the house. The garden doors swing open by themselves, and waiting outside for me is…Mr. Merrill. But a different version. This version is younger, I’d say in his fifties, fit. He has dark brown hair, with some silver streaks. A full beard, and white smile. He is smiling that same villainous smile. 

“You’re-you’re not Mr. Merrill! You’re-”

“I may not be Merrill, per se, but it is what you needed.” 

“What I needed? I didn’t need-” I have stopped swaying, but I still can’t move away from him. 

“You needed a big break, a big story. I gave you that, and I needed someone. A new soul, new life.” 

“No! I won’t-” I start profusely shaking my head. Trying to deny…everything. Fighting to gain control over the rest of my body. 

“You already made the deal, remember? I asked you to stay. I didn’t say for how long.” Another vile smile beams onto his face, I am disgusted. 

“Bastard! What about the real Merrill?” I ask, trembling. 

“Oh he did hold out a long while, and what I said was true. He refused to make any deals with me. Took a vow of silence.” He begins circling me. “I tried, so many times, in many different ways, but alas, he won. He didn’t live to revel in his victory, but he won nonetheless. As you well know, no one else wanted to be found on the grounds. So the townsfolk simply left it to rot. That is, until you came along. My plucky reporter.” 

“People will look for me, they will notice I am missing.” 

“Yes, and when they do, they will read your story. Finding that you loved the house so much, you just had to have it for yourself.” 

Tears prick my eyes. “No, please.” I beg. “Please. Let me leave, let me live.” 

“Oh you will live, son. You will live in the house you ‘admired’ so much as a child. You will send your story to your editor, and it will be published. The days will be yours, then when night falls, we will spend our evenings writing our stories. Everyone gets what they want.” 

I protest in every possible way I can think of, but soon we are in the atrium, I am sitting in front of a computer. The man who I thought to be Merrill is behind me. Whispering things in my ear. I look out the window, at what will be my new eternity.