Daath comes calling

           A pre-winter storm blew into Aston Ville that Thanksgiving, expectedly so, which meant no one was taken aback by it and densely populated the Royce residence for the annual gathering of friends and family to gorge on Master Charles’ bountiful feast. Charles, being the wealthiest person in Aston Ville, always went all out for the holiday and all who attended gave him many thanks in return. Most of Charles’ employees assisted at the feast and in turn were treated most generously at the wallet in time for the next holiday making it a season to remember.

           In the recreation room, aunts Mary Grace and Sandra were playing darts and reflecting on the year that had passed. Mary Grace, as always, the stunning beauty that won Miss Mustang County as a teenager, was drawing the attention of the males, especially considering her divorce that year from Richard McLaren the millionaire banker and adulterer. She assuredly brought on even more attention because of the “breast enhancements” paid for by the divorce settlement. “I got rid of one boob and was able to improve the other two!” she joked to Sandra, a beautiful if slightly ditzy counterpart.

           At the same time Mary Grace was enjoying the attention her chest was bringing and the inner warmth her glasses of Chateau Lafitte 1965 was imparting, Grandfather James was regaling the youth of the family with stories of World War 2, enormous snowfalls, swimming in long forgotten water holes and other tales of different times when ignorance was bliss. Though I should point out that the theory of regaling was in the eyes of Grandfather James as most of the youth had heard the stories numerous times before and were highly bored with hearing them again, most were simply trying to catch James in a contradiction from previous versions but Grandpa still had his mental acuity intact . Unfortunately, as the Royce Estate was far from any metropolis, there was no internet access here and the children had to find a means of entertainment sans electronics.

           It was about 3PM, or half-time of the other annual Thanksgiving tradition-Detroit Lions football game as every sports fan knows, that the employees summoned all to the dining hall to begin the gorging. Reverend Thomas thought that very unfortunate timing as he had just secured Charles ear and was working toward securing a donation for his church to assist in some of the repairs and updates the 1940’s-era building needed as it had never been updated. He was able to secure another meeting though, in private, after the tryptophan from the turkey had worn off, to make his requests which filled the Reverend with eternal hope that the drafty stained glass windows would be caulked before more parishioners fled his flock to warmer churches.

           About that time the doorbell chimed its melody of the Westminster Abbey tones Charles had duplicated by a local musician, who was in attendance of course, beckoning his attention. The lateness of the call made him wonder who it could be at the door. Pretty much every family member, friend, wannabe and seemingly half the town was there already. Charles had shaken enough hands to give him tendonitis for days and kissed enough cheeks, including those of Aunt Mary Grace who might have rid herself of her husband but had not rid herself of the habit of overdosing on Chanel Number 5, to require an application of Chapstick. Furthermore, everyone knew to be at the Estate by noon or you will miss out on Charles impeccable wine selection, some older than even Grandpa James.

           Charles opened the door and was immediately chilled to the bone by an arctic blast the likes of which he could not remember feeling before this one. At the door was a tall, gaunt, pallid man dressed all in black but not with contemporary, plastic-based articles everyone else wore. Instead he was adorned in clothing from a long-gone era, a woolen coat that could be mistaken for an old rug thrown over his shoulders enveloping his head, trousers that blended in with the coat such that they looked to be one and black leather boots that no motorcyclist would wear but possibly an undertaker.

           “Hello, can I help you?” Charles asked of the stranger. The black, sunken eyes of the stranger gazed upon Charles silently for a moment impaling him with another arctic blast.

           “I certainly hope so. I was passing through your town and am feeling a little drowsy. I saw all the vehicles in your driveway and was wondering if I could possibly borrow a place to rest for a little while so that I do not have any unfortunate accidents?”

           “Well, I normally would be leery of allowing a complete stranger into my home unannounced but considering the weather and that it is Thanksgiving I suppose it would be all right.” Charles opened the door to allow the stranger ingress to his mansion. As he crossed the threshold Charles felt a third blast of icy wind which seemed to wrap itself around his heart.

           “You do not know how happy you have made me. I assure you I will be of no trouble at all to you and your guests and promise to be quiet as a dead mouse and out of your way.”

           “That will be fine, Mister…”

           “Please call me Daath. Mr. Daath. Did you say Thanksgiving? I hope I am not intruding on your dinner.”

           “We were just about to sit down and eat yes, but you are not intruding. I would feel horrible if I left you out in that weather and bone-chilling cold. Would you like to join us?”

           “If it is no bother. The air in your home is delightful and making me very hungry suddenly.” Mr. Daath’s eyes once again glared at Charles.

           “No bother, I always prepare too much in case of latecomers. You never know the weather in these parts.” Charles led him down the hallway toward the dining room.

           “True. Especially that bone-chilling cold as you mentioned. It could stop a man’s heart in a second I bet.” Charles felt another cold feeling run up and down his spine as Daath spoke. As they approached the dining area, the din of conversation among the guests increased with each step until they reached the doorway when everyone turned at once to gape at the newcomer and the noise came to a resounding halt.

           “Everyone? This is Mr. Daath. He was passing by and needed a respite from the road. I invited him in to join us. I hope that doesn’t offend anyone?” Silence ensued for a moment then the conversations started again but at a much quieter level.

           “Mr. Daath? May I take your coat?” He turned and noticed a young woman standing next to him wearing a nametag labeled Jenna who had her hands out in his direction. Daath turned to the young woman who paled at the attention she drew from him.

           “Certainly, my dear.” He removed his garb to expose his head which almost seemed to the gathered like just a plain skull with some hair attached. Charles immediately recalled the movie “Phantom of the Opera” and the scene where Lon Chaney is revealed. The talk ceased replaced by a few gasps and barely audible murmuring.

           “Please sit down.” Charles stated nervously to Daath who took the only seat at the table that was empty, at Charles right hand. “As always let’s go around the table and state something that we are thankful for. I’ll start and I am thankful to be surrounded by all these beautiful faces and the love we share. Mr. Daath, normally my wife goes next but as she passed on earlier this year and you are occupying her chair,” Charles started choking up, tears appearing in his eyes, “You are next.”

           Daath did not speak right away but stared at Charles again. “You are Charles Royce? Financier, philanthropist and so on?”

           “Uh, yes I am. Have we met before? You do not seem familiar to me.”

           “No, we have not made each other’s acquaintance before this I am afraid. But I am aware of you and your…past.”

           “Oh?” Charles asked suspiciously.

           “Yes. I am very knowledgeable of your life shall we say. I do not wish to trouble you any further and will leave you now but first I would like a quick word with you in the hallway.” Daath rose from the table. Jenna returned his coat which he put on once again hiding his pale visage from the guests.

           “Okay. I hope I have done nothing wrong.” Charles said standing and following Daath toward the door. “Excuse me for a moment. Everyone please start eating, I will return shortly.” He said to the remaining guests as he departed. The sound of silverware clinking, dishes being passed and friendly banter returned to the dining hall.

           Upon reaching the door Charles could not hold his curiosity in, “So tell me Daath, what do you know of me? Why your strange behavior?”

           “I know that despite your millions and mansion you have become very unhappy with your life since of your wife’s tragic passing. You could have everything except the one thing that would make you happy.”

           “Well yes, but it is human nature to grieve in our own way. I do not see why that would upset you so much as to leave a banquet in such a disrespectful way. Especially when I was kind-hearted enough to take you in even though you were a total stranger.”

           Daath commenced his chilling stare. “I am very sorry for my conduct at your table and will make amends to your guests.”

           Charles took on a puzzled stare, “YOU will make it up to MY guests? I do not understand.”

           Daath smiled a rictus smile and said, “Yes I will. Much later. I thank you again for your hospitality Mr. Royce.” He extended a hand. Charles reached his out to return the gesture from force of habit and incurred a feeling like he had plunged his hand into a bucket of ice! He gazed down and shockingly discovered Daath’s hand and arm had turned to bone, no flesh at all! A freezing feeling climbed up Charles’ arm. He turned his attention to Daath’s face which had also turned to bone, except for his empty eye sockets which blazed with hell fires.

           “Say hello to your wife when you see her Mr. Royce.” Daath gargled from a disembodied voice box. The freezing feeling climbed Charles arm, shoulder and wrapped around his heart reminding him of the chill he felt upon opening the door for the first time.

           Charles eyes rolled up into his eye sockets as his heart beat its last beat but not before the image of his beautiful wife Lenore came to him bathed in light holding out her arms in welcome.

           The guests heard a thump and simultaneously felt a chill.

           “Brrrr, it got suddenly cold in here. I guess he is gone.” Said Aunt Sandra, “I’m glad too as he creeped me out.”