Even thinking about retelling this story has made me the most afraid I’ve ever been in my life.
I suppose if I keep it bottled up I’ll go insane. God knows the security company isn’t talking. I feel like if I don’t warn people and they go there…
Alright, if I’m telling the story then I’d better back up a bit.
It started a little over a month ago. I work for a security firm that guards projects all over the country. I’m sort of a specialist. It seems like if there’s some weird stuff happening at a site, I get called in. I’m not sure why. Maybe my ex-military background, or maybe the fact that… well, we’ll get to that.
This place up in New England was having some trouble. A local firm was remodeling an old church when workers suddenly started quitting. No one seemed to have a good reason why they didn’t want to work there anymore. So guess who got the call to come in and straighten things out?
Driving up there gave me the most profound feeling of being alone I’ve ever had. And mind you, I’ve sat watch in caves, foxholes, ditches, some of the most God-forsaken places on the planet, all by my lonesome, and never did I ever feel as soul-crushingly alone as driving up that little two-lane road that was the only sign of humanity as the trees seemed to close in on me from every side.
As unnerving as that was, it was nothing compared to pulling into the little town where the church was. It was like the nightmare scene from a ‘B’ horror movie. I guess arriving at night in the middle of a rainstorm didn’t help.
I pulled in beside the only vehicle I saw and ran inside the hotel that looked like a saloon out of an old western.
I barely got the door closed until there was a light and a gun shoved in my face.
“Who the hell are you?” said a man from somewhere behind the glare of a flashlight.
“Jones,” I said, slowly raising my hands. “I was called in to help out with your worker problem.”
The light lowered but the gun stayed.
“What company do you work for?”
“Sentinel security.”
I saw the man relax a little, but mostly I was happy that he lowered the gun. In the best of times, a gun in a situation is less than ideal. All kinds of accidents can happen. I’ve seen many innocent bystanders fall victim to contagious gunfire.
The man stepped over to a table and sat. As I looked around the room, I was surprised at how much it looked like a movie set from an old western, right down to the lit lanterns on the tables and hanging from the rafters.
He beckoned me over and I sat across from him.
“Judging by the welcome I’m guessing the workers aren’t the only ones who’re spooked,” I said.
He looked at the gun, then laid it on the table. He seemed to be in his forties or fifties, but there was a tiredness in his eyes. He looked weary and haggard.
“Truth be told, I’m not even sure a gun would do any good.”
“Maybe you should tell me when the trouble started.”
He looked at me and I could see worry tugging at his eyes.
“Your contract’s open, right?”
I nodded.
“Which means you have to finish the job or you don’t get paid, right?”
I nodded again.
He looked me over for a long moment, then sat back, drained his glass of amber-colored liquid, and sighed.
“I bought this town a while back,” he started. “Recently, with the passing of my wife, I decided I needed to throw myself into a project to keep me busy. I wanted to revitalize this town and turn it into a tourist attraction.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nodded in recognition, but never said another word about her.
“Things were going along smoothly,” he said. “The buildings you see have all been restored.”
“They look good.”
“You should’ve seen them when we started,” he scoffed. “They were falling apart. No one had lived here for years, that’s why I was able to buy the whole place for next to nothing.”
“I’m thinking that’s not the only reason.”
“Yes,” he said as a haunted look passed through his eyes. “We saved the church for last because it needed the most work. But once they started remodeling is when… things began to happen.”
“Things?”
“It wasn’t much at first. Shovels and saws would go missing. Tools would be left in fine order at night only to be in complete disarray in the morning. For a while, the workers blamed each other saying there was a prankster among them.”
“But that wasn’t the case?”
“Oh, how I wish it was.”
I waited for a long moment for him to continue.
“We found the first body shortly after that,” he said so quietly I barely heard him.
“Of a worker?”
He nodded.
“Dead?”
He nodded again.
“Why didn’t you stop everything and leave?”
“Because it was already too late,” he said. “We had disturbed it.”
“Disturbed what?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He shook his head and looked away. For a moment I could swear I saw a tear run down his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he said rubbing his palms on his face. “Let me take you to your room and we’ll discuss this further in the morning.”
My curiosity wanted him to finish the story, but it seemed like his weariness had been amplified by alcohol. I followed him as he carried the lantern up the stairs to the first door and opened it for me. He handed me the light and told me the bathroom was across the hall if I needed it.
“I’ll be here bright and early in the morning to give you the dollar tour,” he said sounding more like a host.
“Aren’t you staying here tonight?”
His eyes flashed genuine fear.
“Not here,” he said. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
I looked around the comfortable looking room trying to decide what was so wrong with it as he stepped to the door.
“Oh, by the way,” he said stopping at the doorway. “Don’t bother with your cell phone. There’s no signal up here.”
I glanced down at my phone and when I looked up, he was gone. I picked up the lantern and stepped to the doorway but I didn’t hear him leaving. You would’ve thought someone walking out on a hardwood floor would make some noise, but it was silent. The only noise I heard was the rain pelting against the windows.
Since I was already in the hallway I decided to check out the bathroom. I walked a short distance down the hall and found it to be functional and clean but nothing extraordinary.
While I was there, I used the toilet and washed my hands, then went to my room and got my toiletries kit to brush my teeth.
Carrying a lantern around was a little disconcerting. I’ve had to deal without electricity many times before, but that wasn’t what was bothering me. The shadows from the lamp danced all over, giving the impression of others in the room with me.
It’s strange because I’ve never had that feeling before. Shadows were always just shadows. I was trained to be cautious of who could be hiding in the shadows, not the shadows themselves.
I finished up my bedtime routine and settled in to sleep. There wasn’t much of anything else to do, so might as well get some rest.
One of the things I was taught early on in my career was, that any time you get a chance, rest. You never know when the next chance will come.
I laid down on the comfortable bed and did some relaxation exercises. Before I knew it, I was asleep.
***
I woke with a start, not knowing why. It was pitch black in the room. Instead of panicking, I touched my watch to illuminate it and found my phone. Turning on the flashlight and lighting the lamp helped me to get my bearings, but still didn’t tell me why I was awake.
I sat there for a long moment, then I heard it. There was a loud clanking sound coming from somewhere outside. Sleeping in my clothes when on a job was a habit I’d gotten into when I first started doing private security. Another carryover from the military.
I slipped out of bed and into my boots, then strapped on my utility belt and checked to make sure my sidearm was loaded.
I turned off the phone’s flashlight and grabbed a small utility flashlight from one of the pouches on the belt. For the moment, I holstered the gun and explored with the flashlight. This could be nothing. I didn’t want to go in gangbusters just to find some kids playing around or a worker came in early.
I double-checked my watch. It was five o’clock in the morning. Seemed like an odd time for a worker to come in, but stranger things have happened.
Working my way down the stairs quietly, I double-checked the barroom. It was empty. Opening the door, I had the strangest feeling that something was wrong. Nothing seemed to be out of place. It had stopped raining and I stepped out into the street to find a light layer of fog.
Looking up and down the street, I heard the noise again. It sounded like it was coming from the direction of the church. Leading with the flashlight, I started in that direction. There seemed to be a slight orange glow coming from inside the building the closer I got.
The beam of my flashlight made the air around me glow. It made me feel like I was giving my position away. I fought back the feeling. This was a little town in Vermont, not an active warzone. I had to be cautious, but also temper it with non-lethal actions.
The church loomed in front of me. It seemed much larger up close. I climbed the steps and reached for the doorknob when a loud crack sounded behind me. I whipped around shining my flashlight at everything, but there was nothing there.
As I was looking back, I noticed a light in the window of my room. I must’ve left the lantern lit.
As I looked, I saw the light dim for an instant and then get brighter. Almost as if someone had walked in front of it.
The temperature felt like it was in the lower seventies, but that didn’t keep a chill from running down my spine.
Someone was curious to know who I was.
From years of experience, I’ve found that it’s never good if someone wants to find out who you are, but doesn’t want to do it face-to-face.
That would be something to deal with when I got back to my room. For now, there was a church to explore. I got the feeling that someone was trying to distract me from entering the church.
I reached the top of the stairs and turned the knob, but nothing happened. It didn’t feel like it was locked, it was almost as if someone was on the other side, holding the knob.
I turned as hard as I could and finally it gave and the door opened, dragging me inside and nearly knocking me to the floor.
Regaining my balance, my hand hovered over my gun, expecting to see someone doing something they weren’t supposed to. As I slowly panned around the room, I found something much worse. Absolutely nothing.
There was a lit lantern set up on a table near the altar that was in the middle of being restored. Other than that, there were a lot of pews that were halfway constructed. The ones that were finished looked like they had been sanded and were waiting for a layer of stain.
I walked down the center aisle as if looking for a seat at a wedding… or a funeral.
As I approached the partially reconstructed pulpit, I looked up and saw a life-size wooden carving of Jesus on the cross. It looked old. Not like wine that ages well, but like decrepit. It had been painted flesh colors at one time, but now it was cracked and peeling away from the carving. It looked grotesque to see layers of skin peeling away like it was rotting off His body.
I’m not the most religious man, but I believe in Jesus. I’ve prayed enough prayers sitting in foxholes and caves, asking to be rescued from bad situations and I’m still here. I wouldn’t call Him and I best buds. I know our relationship could be closer, but seeing Him that way, rotting to pieces was just disturbing.
As I looked into His face, I swore I saw His eyes open for an instant. I blinked my own eyes to be sure I was seeing right, but when I looked again, they were closed.
It was my imagination playing tricks on me. At least that’s what I told myself as I stepped onto the platform and looked around.
Off to each side were doors. I went to the one to the right and found a small broom closet. The one on the left held a set of stairs that went down and disappeared into darkness.
Just inside the door, there was yellow and black caution tape blocking the way down. I shone the light on the stairs and they looked sturdy enough. I reached for the tape, but before I got ahold of it, a strong hand grabbed my shoulder and turned me around.
“What do you think you’re doing?” said a man who was a full foot shorter than me, but his grip felt like iron.
“I was about to go down those stairs,” I said.
He looked at me with the incredulous look a parent gave a toddler who was reaching for a hot stove.
“And you didn’t see the caution tape?” he said.
“I saw it.”
“Who are you anyway? I’ve never seen you before.”
“Jones,” I said offering my hand. “I’m with Sentinel Security. I was called in to investigate why workers keep quitting.”
He looked at my hand, then at me.
“So this investigation includes ignoring obvious warnings?”
My hand was still extended but had yet to be shaken. I let it fall back to my side.
“Are you a worker, or a foreman?”
He scoffed.
“Nothing so formal. I make sure people do what needs to be done.”
“So, foreman.”
His eyes bled with suspicion as he stared at me.
“Where did you say you were from again?”
As I was about to answer more workers entered, followed by the owner I’d met last night.
“Let’s ask the boss if he knows you,” the foreman said smugly.
The owner locked eyes with me and gave me the strangest look as he walked up to us.
“Good morning,” he said addressing both of us.
“Good morning, sir,” the foreman said. “I caught this man snooping around in here.”
“Did you now?” he said. “Is that true?”
“I wasn’t snooping, I was investigating,” I said. “Don’t you remember our conversation last night?”
His eyes opened a hair wider for an instant, then went back to normal.
“Of course I do,” he said with a smile that seemed forced. “Remind me again, my memory isn’t the best.”
“We met in the saloon, talked for a little bit, and then you showed me to my room.”
“Indeed?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Did I say anything else?”
“You told me you bought this place after your wife passed away, and problems started after you found the first dead worker.”
“Dead?” the foreman said with alarm. “When did this happen?”
The owner burst into laughter.
“It appears Mr… ?”
“Jones.”
“Mr. Jones here has pulled a fast one on you,” he said to the foreman. “Perhaps he and I should go and discuss the matter in private and you can continue with your work.”
The owner grabbed my arm and guided me away from the foreman whose eyes burned as they followed us out the door.
We walked out of the church in silence as he nodded to workers who were straggling in to start work for the day.
He led me back to the saloon and we sat at the same table as before.
“So you and I met in this saloon last night?” he said.
“At this very table,” I said. “I came to the door and you pulled a gun on me.”
His eyebrows raised.
“Did I now? And what time was this?”
“I’d say around nine. We sat here and talked about what was going on with the workers.”
“And what else did I say, other than about the worker?”
“I asked why you hadn’t left and you said it was too late.”
This time he didn’t try to hide it. His eyes grew wide. He stared at me for a long moment, then seemed to gather himself.
“I apologize, Mr. Jones, if this all seems a little strange,” he said. “You and I did not have a conversation last night.”
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows.
“At nine o’clock last night, I was in bed with my very much alive wife.”
“But, you said… “
“And we have not had any workers die.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.”
I thought about it for a long moment.
“You were drinking when you talked to me. Is it possible you were too drunk to remember?”
He leaned a little closer.
“I haven’t had a drink in nineteen years.”
He reached into his pocket and set a coin on the table. I picked it up and looked at it. It was an AA coin.
“Then who did I talk to last night?”
He put the coin back in his pocket.
“Are you sure it was me who was drinking?”
I looked up at him and read suspicion in his eyes.
“I don’t drink.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“It seems we’ve reached an impasse,” he said. “Perhaps I should call your company and have a different person come and investigate the matter.”
I wanted to find out what was going on.
“Perhaps you should give me at least a day to investigate,” I said. “Unless there’s some other reason you don’t want me to get to the bottom of this?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.
“Please continue your investigation, Mr. Jones,” he said.
“Unimpeded?”
“I will inform the foreman to allow you free reign.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing to leave.
“Just one more thing,” he said. “What was the last part of what my doppelganger told you?”
“You said it was too late to leave because you had disturbed something.”
His eyes fell to the table as if deep in thought.
I went back to the church and began talking to the workers one by one. Each of them was hesitant to talk around the foreman but once they were out of earshot told very similar stories. There had been strange things going on, especially at night. It was more than just tools being moved around. Strange symbols would appear carved into the wood they were using. The owner would tell them to cut the symbols out and use whatever they could of the wood.
One of the workers had gone missing, but after a day or so, the owner said he had quit. The strange thing was no one was able to contact him after that.
The more I dug, the more I found. Some of the workers had become curious as to why they were restoring this town in the middle of nowhere. It turned out it had been long suspected that satanic rituals were carried out in this very church. It was also suspected to be the site of one of the earliest witch burnings.
But the two facts that stuck out in my mind were no one hung around after dark. That was when things were alleged to get strange. And no one was allowed down the steps I had found before the foreman stopped me.
The workers had been told the steps were unsafe and could collapse under the weight of a person. It didn’t take much convincing to keep them away from the creepy stairs.
By afternoon I knew exactly what my next move was. I went back to my room and checked around to see if anything was missing. Nothing seemed to be, so I set my watch and took a nap.
The alarm went off at nine o’clock. I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face, then geared up for my expedition.
When I got to the church, it was empty. I made a beeline for the left door and the creepy staircase. With flashlights attached to a headband and my waistband, I was good to go to keep my hands free for whatever I might need them for.
I attached a safety rope like mountain climbers do and found a sturdy spot to anchor it into the wall. If the stairs gave out on me, at least I wouldn’t fall.
As advertised, every stair creaked like it was about to give out, but thankfully, none of them did.
The trip down was an assault on the senses. The damp, musty smell of rotting wood and general decay was nearly overwhelming. I was surprised at the general lack of cobwebs. It told me this area wasn’t quite as off-limits as some had let on.
Surprisingly, the bottom didn’t open up into a full basement. There were a few wooden shelves at the base of the stairs, but they were empty. Instead, it became a narrow passageway. The floor was made of dirt and the walls were the same stone the foundation of the church was made from. It seemed whoever had built this tunnel built it at the same time as the church. The ceiling barely made it to six feet. I had to duck to keep from brushing my head against it.
I wasn’t sure what I expected to find, but this was the key to discovering what was happening here.
I’d been walking for ten minutes, senses alert, hand on my holstered sidearm.
Suddenly the air changed. The smell became more pungent and the air warmer. There was a feeling of closing in that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
I turned a corner and the tunnel opened up into a large room with a high ceiling.
I panned around trying to get the scope of the room when my light fell on something big in the corner. It looked like a massive black boulder that was made of leather.
Watching, transfixed, I noticed it was moving. Not much, but just a bit rising and falling. I realized it was breathing.
Fear gripped me. I no longer had any interest in finding out what was going on here, I just wanted to turn and slowly back away.
The thing made a noise. It was either a snort or a cough, but in either case, it seemed to be waking up.
I doused my lights and stayed as still as possible while listening in the total darkness. Its breathing became louder and less steady. I heard a creaking that sounded like bones when someone stretched.
It was getting up. And I was standing in the middle of the tunnel. If by some miracle it didn’t already know I was here, as soon as it walked over here it would run right into me.
My mind raced to come up with options as I heard footsteps coming closer.
I backed up against the wall and started edging to the left, hoping I was in the main room and not still in the tunnel. The footsteps were so close when they suddenly stopped. The absence of sound was deafening. I tried to hold my breath as I listened for the beast’s breathing. It was slow and sporadic as if it was listening for me.
Neither of us moved.
We barely breathed, each waiting for the other to reveal their location.
My hand drifted to the gun as I tried to pull it out of the holster as quietly as possible. The air shifted. The beast had moved, but I didn’t know where.
I heard a strange squelching sound, and then…
“What are you doing Mr. Jones.”
I tried to hold off as long as possible, but curiosity got the best of me. I turned on my headlamp to find the owner standing right in front of me, staring at me with a maddening smile. My eyes darted around looking for the beast, but I knew I wouldn’t find it. It was standing in front of me.
“So are you the real thing?” I said, hoping to keep the panic out of my voice. “Or are you some shapeshifter who pretends to be someone else because he has no identity of his own?”
“I am whoever I want to be,” he said.
I heard the squelching again, only this time I had the displeasure of watching it happen. His entire body rippled and tore itself apart, only to reform into the beast for a moment, then tear apart again and reform into something much more terrifying. I gasped, looking into my own eyes.
“You see?” he said in my voice. “I can take your place and travel around pretending to solve problems.”
While he was changing, I glanced around to see if there was anything else in the room I could use. In the far corner, I saw what looked like a nest and an inverted cross hanging on the wall.
“If you could, why haven’t you?” I said, playing a hunch.
“What?”
“If you were free to go anywhere, then why haven’t you? Why sit here in the middle of the woods with nothing to do?”
“I choose to stay here,” he said in my voice.
“You choose because this is where your power is.”
“You know so little. I’m rebuilding this place so my worshipers can live here and pray to me, giving me all the power I need.”
“Just like when this place was first built.”
“And until my followers thrive, I survive off of human sacrifice.”
“So you did kill the worker.”
“And no one remembers him, just like they won’t remember you.”
He grinned and took a step toward me, but I drew my pistol and shot him in the forehead. He fell to the ground, bleeding. It was a strange sight to watch myself die. But then the squelching began again and he reformed into his demonic form.
He stood ten feet tall and covered in leathery skin that looked like tiny teeth. His face was a nightmare of glowing red eyes and massive sharp teeth.
He roared at me in what sounded like a thousand voices.
I turned and ran down the tunnel, ducking so I didn’t hit my head and knock myself out. That would’ve ended my escape and my life.
I heard the squelching again and heard my voice call after me.
“You can’t escape, and besides I know how to find you.”
I turned and fired, hitting him (me) in the chest. He dropped and squelched again. I wanted to watch him turn into his demon form to see him squashed into the tunnel that was too small for him. But I didn’t dare squander this time for anything but escape.
It seemed like forever until I came to the stairs. I took them two at a time. Once I reached the top I turned to see him at the bottom. I shot him again, then found a lantern inside the church, lit it, and tossed it down the stairs.
The glass shattered, spreading fire all over the bottom stairs. They began to burn almost immediately.
I could hear his desperate cries as the flames crawled up the stairs, destroying them one by one.
Turning and running out the doors, I didn’t bother with my things in my room. I hopped in my car and drove like a bat out of… well, you know.
My hands shook on the steering wheel as I glanced in my rear-view mirror, hoping I wouldn’t see that thing chasing me. Instead, I saw a glow growing in the forest behind me. I prayed the whole church was on fire, and it would spread to all the houses.
I only wished his followers were in the houses when they burned.
I wondered how many more places there were like this in the world.