The Indweller

The pervasive sounds of the eeriness of a howling wind had prevailed over the old, decrepit manor, amongst the patches of the towering trees of the forest passed the garth, where the hovering clouds of murk had shadowed the crescent moon. The pale colour of the viridity of the moss and vines slid down the ornate windows. The doors and hinges were covered in the mould of rust. The mansard roof was worn and torn by the heavy drops of rain. The courtyard was strewn, with fallen brunescent leaves devoid of their blee.

It was a selcouth manor of utter despair and obscurity. Deep inside the manor was an untold secret that few had ever known existed. There behind the draperies of the windows of the loft was a hideous indweller that had lurked for innumerable decades.

It was a mild day of autumn in the year 1928, when Mr Brumby had arrived in a car that morning, at the old Canfield Estate in Devonshire England, located on the outskirts of Exeter. It had been raining, when he had come there to see the property on behalf of the bank that was interested in remodeling the forlorn manor. He had brought two young secretaries with him on this trip whose names were Bernice and Abigail, to assist him documenting his report. He had originally planned on driving back to Exeter that same day, because he had a private engagement, with an important businessman.

On the way to the manor, they had passed the narrow and tedious roads that led to the rural towns of Barnstaple, Great Torrington, Bideford, Tiverton and Crediton. His intention was to stay an hour or less than an hour, but he would be forced to alter his plans drastically, due to the menacing storm that was approaching.

When they had entered the solitary and abandoned manor, they were greeted by the terrible gloom and opacity that had encompassed the interior decor of the manor. It was surreal to fathom that the manor once had a pristine appearance and the regalement, for festive gatherings of aristocrats and their disportment.

From what he was told, its original proprietors had left the manor in the hands of the bank. There were no inheritors that were mentioned, or had claimed the estate and manor through an elaborated will. It was somewhat odd that no one from the immediate family would be interested in the purchase of the manor.

The unique history of the manor was linked to madness as well. The Canfields had only one child Barnabas that was known, who had mysteriously disappeared and was presumed dead. Mr Canfield had gone mad, as did his wife. There were three rooms in the first storey and four rooms upstairs, a 18th-century chandelier in the main hall and a fireplace, nearby the ample parlour. A spiralling stairway was in the centre.

What was the most noticeable thing to descry was coming from the particles of dust that had covered the rusty furniture and the dishevelled tapestries. It had appeared to the eye that no one had lived in the manor for decades. The eldritch image of abandonment was conspicuously present, throughout the manor.

Mr Brumby had assumed then that it would require a considerable renovation and repair. He knew that the bank was interested in remodeling the place, but he was unclear for what specific reason, except for the morbific nature of its value he had surmised.

His two secretaries had amused themselves, discussing personal things of which did not concern him. This would allow him to explore the manor more at depth, and to write down all the pertinent details that were descriptive of the manor, in particular, what was required to be remodelled.

His expectations were reasonable as were the expectations of the bank. It was a gamble to say the least, but one that was seen as profitable. No one from amongst them had even contemplated the terrifying madness that would be experienced, on that unforgettable day. Mr Brumby had told the young women along the way that they would not tarry much, and that he would finish his business there as, soon as possible. There was no need for him to stay longer than what was necessary.

One of Mr Brumby's secretaries had discovered the torn pages of an old diary. It had appeared that it was written by Mrs Canfield years ago. What was relevant were the contents that were written and descriptive in words. There was a specific mention of how she was truly concerned, about the erratic behaviour of her son Barnabas.

Apparently, her husband Mr Canfield was very abusive towards her and their son. He was often absent from the manor and travelling. There was nothing more of substance that could be analysed and surmised with circumspection. It was alarming to read, such a revealing part of the Canfield family. There are some many families, with mysteries and secrets that are concealed and bizarre in their origin. The rain had begun to increase with the ventosity, and the storm had approached, with intervals of lightning and thunder.

Mr Brumby had planned on avoiding the storm and departing the manor before the storm had arrived, but it was too late. They would be forced to wait out the storm, inside the old and haunting manor. His two secretaries were not content to have to spend their time inside a creepy place, as was the Canfield Manor. The fact that the rural roads were not that accessible as well had hampered their visibility to drive.

Perhaps, it was Mr Brumby's urgency to inspect the manor that had impaired his poor judgement and assiduity. This he had conceded to the women, who had advised him before the trip, to wait until the next day, when the weather was more fain. Mr Brumby had explored the manor from below, but not from above.

Thereafter, he told his secretaries that he would be back. He would finish exploring the manor upstairs in the rooms that were uninhabited also. As he had walked up the stairway, he had sensed that there was nothing that was accommodating nor hospitable, about the manor that he could express a token measure of appreciation.

It was eerily dark and dull upstairs, and the rooms were empty and spectral. Not a single soul he thought had been inside them, for some considerable period of time. The bedrooms of the Canfields were abandoned, and as he entered into another room, he had the impression that the room had belonged to the little boy that was their child Barnabas.

It was difficult to imagine that the manor was once lively and decorative. It was the first time that he had seen a manor reduced to a hollow essence of its former aesthetic grandeur and pulchritude. Whatever memories were made in this manor were forever concealed in its surreptitious past.

There was not much to distinguish in the other rooms upstairs that were clearly different than the others he had entered. They were all demonstrative of a melancholic caliginosity that was present throughout the manor. The intolerable smell of the putrid moss and vines from outside had penetrated through the oriel windows. Simply, there was a lot of work that was needed in the manor that had required time and effort. In particular, due to the posthumous nature of the original proprietors.

The rain was pouring down on the roof, and the lightning had flashed a bright refulgence. The obstreperous noise of thunder had resounded. As Mr Brumby was heading back down the spiralling stairway, he had perceived a sudden noise of footsteps coming from the loft above.

At first, he was not certain if he had indeed heard footsteps, or was it the queer effects of the storm outside raging? The stairway had led to the loft, but he was apprehensive to go up the stairs and investigate on his own. If the manor inside was in a terrible condition, then certainly the loft would be worse he thought. He had dismissed the footsteps and headed back down the stairway to join his secretaries, who were waiting for him.

When he was back downstairs, he had found the women in the dining room. They were staring at a singular portrait that was of a young boy that was assumed was Barnabas, the son of the Canfields. It was strange to see that the portrait was not covered in the same dust, as the furniture.

It was as if someone had polished the dust recently. This was their conclusion and the mystery of the manor had thickened with its plot. Mr Brumby was not aware that someone had been in the house, before they had arrived there. Perhaps, there was a logical explanation for the portrait, nevertheless, it was ironic that it was the only portrait of the young Barnabas that was seen. His features were noticeably distinguishable. It was regrettable that he was never located in the end.

Mr Brumby had wondered about the terrible circumstances that the poor boy had been exposed to their consequence. It was difficult for him to get into the mind of a child at that age and to know the deep suffering and confusion he was experimenting. To grow up in such a hectic place and influence that instead of being ideal, it was more detrimental to the welfare of the boy. He could only assume that the boy had at least, some small measure of normalcy at one point of his childhood.

It was impossible to know the full extent of his abnormal life and relationship with his parents, inside or outside the manor. So many questions, but few answers were revealed. Hitherto, was their quandary. There was something that was queer, and that was that there were transparent traces of footprints, across the floors of the manor. One of the secretaries, who had been walking in the lower storey of the house had observed them. Judging from the footprints, this would indicate that someone had been in the house recently.

There was another possibility that had meant that the person was still in the manor. If there was someone present, then where was that individual at that they could not see him? The dim light of the daylight was the only true light they could take advantage of its effects. The only two places Mr Brumby had not explored were the cellar and the loft. He knew it would be dark in both places and difficult to visibly see much. He had promised his secretaries that after exploring these two rooms, they would be leaving, despite the heavy rain that was pounding the rooftop of the manor.

The thought that there was someone inside had caused him to go the cellar. He had not planned on leaving them alone. Thus, he proceeded to walk down the stairs and as he did that, he heard two horrible screams. Immediately, he ran up the stairs post-haste and found Abigail shaking in sheer fright. Her countenance was blanched, as if she had seen a horrifying spectre.

When he asked her where was Bernice, the other secretary, she could only utter to him that she was grabbed and taken away by force. When he had asked her where and who had grabbed her, she said that it was a menacing monster. She did not know, where Bernice was taken.

When Mr Brumby had asked her to describe the thing or stranger, she could not divulge many details, except for some small ones that would be vague and ambiguous. She had talked about an unannounced silhouette that came from behind them that had startled them. She had related to me that the intrepid stranger was of average height but had long sharp fingernails.

He had a peculiar mask that was concealing his face. She could see a black film over his eye, and he had a heavy breath that was unmatched. Mr Brumby could sense the rising terror in her profound expression and mien. He began to look all around for his missing secretary. He had looked upstairs and downstairs in the rooms below, but to no avail. He could not locate her or the stranger. He had to calm the unsettling nerves of consternation that the other secretary was experiencing, as he could feel her rapid heartbeat.

Abigail would not leave his presence and had begged him to leave the manor, even if that implied leaving without Bernice. There was no phone to utilise to call the police or summon them. They were left to find Bernice on their own. Abigail had insisted on going directly to the police.

Mr Brumby did not exactly know what had possessed him to ignore her advice. Instead, he swore to her that he would find Bernice and that once he had, they would immediately depart from the manor. There was only one place that he had not entered yet, and that was the loft above them. Was Bernice taken somehow unbeknownst to them, to the loft secretly? It was only his supposition or intuition that had compelled him to think about that feasibility. It would be the place that the indweller would have been hiding all this time.

Abigail did not want him to leave her alone. He had to convince her that he would be back. She wanted to run outside. It was her fear that had prevented her. It was not Mr Brumby's intention to leave her, but he had to find Bernice. Gradually, he had climbed the spiralling stairway, when he had suddenly heard the screams of Abigail. He ran down the stairway, until he had reached her.

She was on her knees, pointing to the direction of the dining room. She had told him that she had seen the indweller again. This time, he had wanted to take her away. It was disturbing to see her in sheer panic and confusion. Mr Brumby had felt helpless at that moment, because he was unable to do anything to protect her, or was he able to have prevented the capture of his other secretary.

Carefully, he had walked towards the dining room with her, as she held tautly on to his hand. The storm had persisted, as they had walked ahead. They were mindful of the horrendous stranger that was lurking inside the manor. The awful sound of the wooden floor had creaked, with every step taken by them. It was impossible to not be heard.

When they had reached the edge of the dining room, there was no evident sign of the indweller present. He had completely disappeared. The question was where did he go? Neither one of them had any real clue. It was until Mr Brumby had approached the walls that he had located, what was a secret passage behind one of them. He did not know exactly, where that narrow passage had led to, but he was anxious to know.

The passage was dark and drear, and barely a ray of light was transmitted by the flashing lightning. It was a daring risk to enter, under such extreme conditions, but they did enter at their own discretion. Once they had entered, they found what seemed to be tunnels that were intrinsically connected to the rooms that were downstairs. It was indeed a labyrinth of elaborate passages. Who had created these passages, and who was using them? If the indweller or monster that his secretary had witnessed was the individual behind the passages, then it would mean that he had been observing them, since their arrival to the manor.

That was a terrifying notion to have to accept as veritable. The suspense had intensified with each occurrence. Whilst they had been inside the passages, they heard a distant scream from above them. As they got closer, someone had closed the door of the wall that they had entered through. It was no mere coincidence. The indweller had closed the door. This had frightened his secretary, who was still apprehensive about the previous incident with the stranger.

Mr Brumby had attempted to calm her anxiety and fortunately for them, they were able to escape the secret passages, through one of them that had led to another room. The room that they had stumbled upon was a private gallery. There were old portraits and also family photographs that had belonged to the Bellington family. What was conspicuous was the image of a young boy that they had presumed was Barnabas, the missing child.

The mystery about the boy had begun to enter more into Mr Brumby's lingering thoughts, but his main concern was finding the other secretary, who was taken by the wretched indweller. Her life was in extreme peril, and it was his responsibility to locate her. He had brought her to this terrible manor in the first place.

They were able to exit on to the parlour, where they could see the noticeable drops of blood that had dripped on to the floor. Mr Brumby had closely analysed the blood, but he could not distinguish whose blood it had belonged to. There was an eerie silence for a moment, as the lightning and thunder had temporarily ceased its terror.

It was a bizarre coincidence. Was it the blood of the stranger or worse, from his other secretary? The blood had led into the vicinity of the cellar beneath them. The thought of entering the cellar had entered their mind, but his secretary had implored him to not go down there.

His curiosity to find the indweller had compelled him to walk down the stairs and see if he could find him there. Mr Brumby had grabbed a piece of plywood and had told his secretary that he would only climb down halfway. He walked down the stairs, where he could smell the stench of blood. There was a troubling sign that someone had been in the cellar recently.

There was a putrid stench of death that was smelt everywhere in the cellar. He had found countless bones and skulls amassed. As he was occupied with that, someone had closed the door to the cellar tramping him downstairs. He then heard a vociferous scream that had sounded, like his remaining secretary Abigail. Mr Brumby had pounded on the door of the cellar screaming but was unable to budge or open it. He had sensed that the lurking indweller had seized both of his secretaries and had taken them away to his hiding place.

He had no time to waste, if he had wanted to rescue the both of them. He was not even certain that they were alive at that point in time. Who was this perverse stranger that was living in the manor and had abducted his secretaries? Whoever he was, he was very clever and intelligent. Mr Brumby was at a clear disadvantage, and the indweller was at a clear advantage with the situation.

Mr Brumby's knowledge of the manor was limited and lacking important information, in particular, information about the ominous indweller who was living in the manor. It was extremely dark, and the only light was from the lone window that was in the cellar. He had used that light to navigate himself through the cellar. He had banged on the door with the plywood numerous of time, before he was successful in breaking the doorknob, allowing him to open the door, at last. It was a harrowing experience to be locked and trapped inside the cellar.

When he had managed to depart the cellar and was on the main storey, he could not find or see Abigail. Another loud scream was heard, and this time, it was coming from upstairs in the loft. It was the only place that he had failed to explore or enter. His heart had beaten with a rapid pulsation, and his hands began to sweat and sweat even more. Mr Brumby had to act quick and decisive, because time was of the essence. Up the spiralling stairway he went, with extreme caution in his steps.

He could perceive as he climbed the long steps upwards that there was absolute danger awaiting him in the loft, but as he got closer he could hear the fainting sounds of breathing and weeping. Were they the agonising sounds of his captured secretaries still alive?

The storm had increased once more, as he could feel the puissant lightning and thunder. When he reached the doorknob of the loft, it had felt completely warm, as if someone had recently entered. It was a daunting realisation and frightening thought to bear. What exactly would he find behind that creepy door of hell?

Slowly, he turned the doorknob and had opened the door. Apparently, it was left open. Was it done intentionally? What he would discover behind the door in the loft would shock and mortify him. Inside the darkled shadows of the loft were both of his secretaries, bound with strapped cloths in their mouths and their feet and hands were bound as well with rope.

It was utter disbelief that he had expressed. Mr Brumby could not believe what he had witnessed. The women had seen him enter and were relieved, from their morbific fear of the unknown indweller. They were scared and desperate to be freed. Quickly, he was able to free them and escort them down the spiralling stairway, away from the horror of the loft, where they were being imprisoned. Their intention was to finally leave the madness of the manor alive, but as they had reached the last step of the spiralling stairway, there before them stood the intimidating guise of the sinister indweller.

He had been wearing the same mask and garments. Mr Brumby told the women to scurry to the door, and he would occupy the indweller. Mr Brumby struck him in the face with the plywood and knocked him down to the floor. For a moment it had appeared that he was unconscious. He removed his mask to descry a hideous and deformed face of a monster. He had long scrappy hair and dark eyes that were sinister in nature. His aquiline nose and cheeks were noticeable, as was his thin frame. Despite his emaciated constitution, he was a strong individual.

Mr Brumby told the two secretaries to immediately run back to the car outside. As he had been distracted with that, the indweller had risen to his feet and grabbed him from behind. They had tussled on the floor back and forth, until Mr Brumby was able to free himself from his tight clutch. He had punched the indweller in the face and ran towards the front door to escape, but when he had turned the doorknob, the indweller had reached him and had knocked him unconscious.

When Mr Brumby had awakened, he was bound by rope from head to toe. He woke up to the disturbing image of the naked body of the indweller, and the horrible image of both of his secretaries killed and worse, their bodies were totally dissevered and ensanguined. Was he to become his next victim and prey? What was more appalling was the sight of him eating the flesh of his secretaries that were hanging upside down.

The indweller was a barbaric cannibal, whose sharp fingernails pierced like a carnifex. His body was hirsute and disfigured. His skin was pale and his teeth were pointed, with saliva pouring out of his mouth. His head was massive and his lips were vermilion.

He had stepped away from the loft and went down the spiralling stairway afterwards. The trickling blood from the mutilated bodies of Mr Brumby's secretaries was dripping on to the floor profusely. Their tongues were removed by a large knife. He left to where? Mjr Brumby did not know. He was still unnerved and shocked, by what he had seen inside the loft. Why the indweller had spared him and not killed him and mutilated him like the others was a question that only the indweller could answer.

Perhaps, he had spared him for a good reason, or merely to keep him as his last victim. It was not a propitious sign for Mr Brumby, for he was in a direful predicament that he could not control its outcome, it had seemed to him. How would he escape this time? There was no one to scream to, nor to assist him in his attempt to escape.

Desperation and consternation had entered in him, with a celeritous angst. He had struggled to unfasten the rope, but he could not manage to free himself. Over and over, he thought about what he could do to be freed and not be murdered like his poor secretaries. The ghastly indweller had been living in the manor, as a wretched occupant.

His identity was still unknown to Mr Brumby, as was his selcouth behaviour. For how long was he living amidst the shambles of the rickety manor and its abhorrent condition? It was definitely, a nerve-racking ordeal to overcome. Was the indweller someone that was related to the Canfield family? Was this monster the lost son of the Canfields? Mr Brumby could not dismiss that unfathomable feasibility. He was able to unloosen the rope around his feet.

When the indweller had returned, he had smiled and displayed a demented expression on his countenance. At first, he had grunted an utterance of words that Mr Brumby could not comprehend in their meaning nor entirety. It was impossible to tell, but he soon would learn that the indweller could not speak, due to the fact that his tongue had been sliced off, leaving only a small portion of it intact.

It was a horrific scene to have witnessed in person. For some unknown reason, the indweller had wanted to communicate with him, despite his uncouthness. He grabbed a pencil and wrote down in notes the precise words that he had wanted to express.

The first thing that Mr Brumby had noticed was that he had written his name which was Barnabas, then followed by his surname, Canfield. Mr Brumby knew at that moment that he was indeed the lost and estranged son of the Canfields. He was no longer a helpless child but a full-grown man that had been living for decades in the manor.

He described in vivid details afterwards what his life was and the abominable monster that he was converted into. He had blamed his parents for his miserable deformity. He had no other place to go, because of his disfigured features. He was seen, as an outcast and a monster to the rest of the family.

Thus, he had vanished into the secret passageways that he learnt had existed, as a child. They were originally built by his father, but he had expanded them throughout the decades. It was incredible that he had been living in the manor all those years, but what was worse, he was forced into cannibalism.

It was hard to believe that he had been neglected, as a child and had been easily forgotten. Mr Brumby had the impression that he needed to communicate to him. There was no need in asking him what he was going to do with him, since he knew that he was not going to permit him to leave the manor.

Was he taunting Mr Brumby or was he truly being sincere in his revelations? There was no singular doubt in Mr Brumby's mind that he was mad, but what degree of sanity was still left in him? How could he reach that vestige of sanity and deceive him efficaciously?

It was impossible to convince him to let him go free, without there being any realistic consequences. Therefore, Mr Brumby's only option available was to utilise duplicity against him. It would be his only recourse. He had invented the lie that he could have the bank remodel the place and hand him over the property. This was a tactic that he had devised. Mr Brumby had sensed that this would make him react favourably.

For a brief moment he stood before the indweller, contemplating the ponderation of his words. The indweller stood by the window, with his back towards him. It was the actual moment when he was forced to react, and he did. Straight away, he rose to his feet and struck the indweller on his head. Mr Brumby was able to untie his hands and flee the loft.

He headed towards the spiralling stairway, but he was thwarted by the indweller. He had grabbed Mr Brumby from behind and knocked him to the floor. Mr Brumby could see the enraged madness in his eyes, as he stood over him like a fierce monster. This time, he had meant to kill him.

Mr Brumby had struggled with him, as the indweller tried to choke him with a lethal grip. Mr Brumby had resisted with all his strength, until he was capable of grabbing the indweller and throwing him down the spiralling stairway, where he broke his neck on instant contact with the floor.

He had almost succeeded in choking Mr Brumby, who was not certain, whether or not the indweller was dead from where he was upstairs. He stood there for a moment observing, then he had climbed down the stairway cautiously. When he had raught where his body was lying motionless, he bent down to touch the indweller and indeed, he was stone dead. He would see the gruesome disfigurement of his face one last time.

There was no beating of the heart or the pulse. Any living signs were extinguished with the fall. The indweller's madness had abated as well. Mr Brumby left the manor and the Bellington Estate to never return. Within a week, it would be completely demolished. The bodies of his secretaries would be properly buried, as was the body of the grotesque indweller, Barnabas Canfield. The haunting secret of the manor had been properly put to rest and had been revealed, at last.

Even in the private setting of his house and thoughts, Mr Brumby could not forget the wretched sequence of events that had led to the evil and trepidation that was experienced in that atrocious manor. He would awaken some nights, with the horrendous nightmare of seeing the sanguiferous spectacle of the murders and the indelible face of the scorned indweller. How could such horrors exist? How could a boy become a monster?

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