I've been hit with the desire to flex my creative writing muscles more often (when your day job consists of writing dry advertising copy/product or service descriptions, believe me, you relish the chance), so I decided to do a little piece based around my ongoing project Barnbellow's Estate. The title comes from one of the translations of the song of the same name by Yasushi Ishii.
***
Booming thunder cracked across the sheet of clouds in the sky; heavy winds battered against the ageing, grimy windows; torrential rainfall had so soaked the ground outside that it was seeping through the foundations of the house itself- when it wasn’t dripping through nooks and crannies in the roof.
Yet Yuna could barely hear any of it; the sound of her own ragged breathing echoed in her eardrums, drowning everything else out.
What in gods name was that back there? She didn’t get a good look at it. She didn’t even hear it, at first. She only noticed the presence was even there once she heard the sound- and felt the force- of something heavy and metal striking the stone floor not inches from her left. Smart lass that she was, she didn’t stick around to find out what it was- she took off running in the opposite direction, haphazardly dashing down several hallways until finding a suitable hiding spot to lay low in.
Behind a pillar in an open hall wasn’t really what she had in mind, but it was the closest thing she found to one on her impromptu escape route.
Now that she had s a moment to really take in what had just happened, exactly, a combination of extreme dread and morbid curiosity descended upon her. She knew this enormous estate has been without permanent residents since 1941; ownership rights had long since vanished into the ether, and the local governing bodies hadn’t made much of an attempt to do anything with it. There hadn’t even been a paltry attempt at sealing the grounds off; you could just... walk right up to it. A place well and truly abandoned and uncared for, left to turn crumble to dust well out of sight and out of mind.
But there was someone there with her. Someone with some pretty ugly intentions.
‘It was probably just a crazy wino, or maybe some weirdo gang member’, the annoying little voice of everyone that ever shut her down said in the back of her head. Logic dictates that’s what it MUST be, right? Thing is, though, people make noises when they move. Even when they try not to, something gives them away. On top of that, humans are very perceptive of when their space is being invaded by something, particularly when they’re in hostile surroundings and need to keep their guard up.
This one didn’t make any sound at all. It was just... there, all of a sudden.
Trying to kill her.
Unprompted and unwanted, the story of the Barnbellow Family entered her mind. The last living occupants of the estate before it was left to rot, the Barnbellow’s were wealthy and affluent individuals that wanted for nothing, not even in the midst of war- and so removed were they from any prime targets of the Axis forces, they seemingly had nothing to fear. It stands to reason, then, that the untimely death of the youngest of the family, Edward Barnbellow, shook the surviving members to their very cores. Worse still, his death was ruled as a murder, one with no suspects and no apparent motive. It was said that the unanswered questions surrounding the loss of her beloved son that drove the lady of the house, Jennifer Barnbellow, mad with grief; one evening, during a gathering with the local elite, she snapped entirely and began systematically murdering all of the guests and the remainder of her family before she simply vanished into the night, never to be seen again.
Yuna’s entire body was awash with a cold sensation, a feeling of intense nausea bubbling in her stomach. Could it... could it be Jennifer? Was... was this finally a...?
The scrape of metal against stone brought her back to reality, before the question could complete itself in her mind. Instinctively, she clasped her gloves hands around her mouth, trying to steady her breathing and keep still.
The scraping continued, almost rhythmic in it’s timing, growing ever closer.
Yuna’s entire body trembled uncontrollably, and the harder she fought against it the worst it grew.
scrape, scrape, scrape.
She shut her eyes tightly, barely suppressing whimpers. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes.
SCRAPE, SCRAPE, SCRAPE.
The heart palpitations grew ever more severe as adrenaline began to pump through her system, and her head began to feel light.
Something gripped her shoulder.
Don’t look. Don’t open your eyes.
The grip tightened.
She glanced over.
A gaunt face, pallid and rotten skin wrapped so tightly around an expression of unimaginable fury and rage that it only intensified it further, was mere inches from her own. Yet no breath escaped from it’s lips; no noise of any kind. In an effort to avoid it’s piercing gaze, Yuna’s eyes looked downwards, focusing on something reflecting the ambient light through the windows.
A blade. A sword? A knife? She didn’t know. In stark contrast to the rotten dress the figure wore, it was pristine; it’s edge impeccable.
The figure wordlessly began to raise the blade, arm trembling under it’s weight as it did so.
Yuna wanted so badly to scream- she could feel it in her throat- but nothing came out. Her mouth just simply hung open, tears openly falling from her eyes, as she desperately struggled against the grip of the figure to try and get free. Oh god, it’s grip was so tight- unnaturally tight. She could feel a bruise forming in her shoulder bone as she tried, in vein, to pry herself loose, the figure finally ready to bring the blade down and cut her in twain-
CLUNK
The sound of something hitting the floor was followed by an intense flash of light that startled both Yuna and the figure, taking them out of the moment. Yuna recovered first, looking over at the source of the sound as the figure stumbled backwards.
It was her camera. It must have fallen out of her pocket during the struggle.
Figuring she can thank whatever god(s) favoured her this day later, she reached for the Camera, picking it up; as she did so, she noticed the figure descending upon her again, blade raised once more.
Instinctively, Yuna raised the camera to hey eye and took another photo of the figure, hoping to stun it enough to create an opening to escape. The effect was a lot more pronounced then she was expecting, though; the figure’s furious expression- the centre focus of the photo Yuna took- had been crushed into a concave dent, a viscous black fluid exploding from it as the creature fell backwards. Yuna tried to shield herself from the spray, succeeding in only preventing most of it from hitting her face; it was absolutely freezing cold, enough to make her yelp in surprise and sting her skin a little.
She got to her feet shakily, pacing slowly backwards as she observed the figure; it seemed to be down for the count. After a few brief moments spent panting and staring blankly at the fallen figure as her mind mentally readjusted, the flight instinct took over as she pivoted, sprinting in the opposite direction.
The mental clarity awarded to her allowed her to answer the question she had begun to ask herself earlier;
Yes. Things beyond the realm of human understanding were absolutely, provably real. She had finally been validated for her belief in the supernatural by nearly being sliced in two by something science could not possibly begin to answer.
The weather outside began to calm itself, finally; the thunder gently rumbled, the winds returned to a mere breeze, and the rain lazily drizzled down from the dull black sky.