“Aye nah this is bullshit dude, no way… not happening.” Simon said in a reluctant tone.
“Why not? No one’s going to be here… Stop being a pussy.” I responded.
“Fuck off, Maeve. You can actually fuck off. Why would you want to go in there? I thought you said we were going to go hang out for a smoke and that was it. Now we’re quite literally walking into some abandoned manor. At 2am? Nah. I am going home.” Simon replied.
“Oh, come on Simon! It’s a sick smoke spot. The whole 3rd floor has caved in, we can climb up onto the roof, from the rubble. It’s going to be a really pretty view from up there, trust me. You’ll love it.” I insisted.
“Fuck. Fine. Whatever dude, but if ANYTHING happens, I’m out and i will leave you behind…” He said, stomping his feet up the hill.
Simon hated doing anything that I considered to be “cool” or “spontaneous”. He would much rather crawl up into bed with a blunt and play the new Call of Duty game, even if it is so full of bugs and glitches that it isn’t fun at all… He never did anything that was actually exciting.
“Haha, sure Simon. We’ll literally be here for like, half an hour anyway then we’ll go. It really isn’t that deep bro. Jhezze.” I continued.
Simon shot me a quick sharp glance. I knew he was scared of doing things like this but if I didn’t push him out of his comfort zone, he would never leave his bed. I do love the guy, but we are practically opposite in every way.
We made our way over to where the gates read:
Berkyn Manor Farm
John Milton - Poet
1632-1638
“THE John Milton? As in the guy who wrote Paradise Lost? That’s mad… Oi, let’s see if we can steal a book or two from the library, I hear it’s still practically untouched!” I said excitedly.
“I don’t know who that is but yeah, can we just get this over with I’ve been dying for a smoke all day.” Simon responded and ushered me over the fence.
I nodded and jumped over the fence, making my way through the trees towards the front door of the manor with Simon on my heels.
“Hey, before we go in imma quickly google this ting innit. Man’s not going into a haunted ghost-ass filled gaff ya know.” Simon said in some try-to-be chavvy accent.
“I heard this place is like mad haunted bruv.” I said back in a joking manner.
As someone who isn’t from the UK, I always found it amusing to try and talk the way they do. Can’t understand half the shit they’re saying most of the time but Berkshire is meant to be the “Posh” part of England, I have not been convinced as of yet.
“Oi nah shut up you absolute melt.” Simon replied, smiling back at me, putting his phone back in his pocket.
We pressed against the door and it practically fell off its hinges at our touch, probably should have been the first sign to stay off the property but we stepped inside anyway.
It was stunning, the creaking hardwood floors lay thick with grey dust and furniture still remained from the last owners in the 1980’s - it was in no way habitable or reparable but truly stunning, nonetheless.
We walked around the ground floor for a short while, I was taking in as much of the history as i could whereas Simon did not seem to care less, he grabbed my hand and walked towards the dark stairwell.
“Um, Maeve… can we maybe not go upstairs? This looks pretty dangerous so if we’re gonna smoke can we not just do it down here somewhere?” he said sounding suspicious.
“Ugh, i guess so but the whole reason we are here is to see the view from the roof. I’ll have to come back with some other friends who aren’t such babies about everything.” I replied in an annoyed tone.
“Don’t give me attitude… we’re trespassing as it is, I would rather be stupid and be safe.” he snapped back.
“Fine. Whatever, let’s at least check out more of the ground floor though, may as well snoop around some more while we are here.” I said as I walked towards an old, dust-covered sofa and ran my finger through the muck that lay upon the upholstery.
We made our way around the ground floor of the house, the kitchen had gorgeous bronze kitchenware and matching accessories and the loungeroom was grand, it had hints of gold still poking through the build-up on the remaining photo-frames and a grandfather clock reading 02:15am.
I picked up one of the photo-frames from the mantel above the fireplace and blew the dust from the glass, it showed an image of a kind looking young couple. I sat for a short while admiring the contours of the faces in the photo that once were and heard Simon spark the joint behind me.
“Guess we’re smoking in here then” I said with a slight laugh as I turned my head to see Simon staring down the dark passageway that led down to where the basement door was, his back turned to me.
“…Simon?”
No response.
I cautiously made my way over to him and went to place my hand on his shoulder when it appeared.
In the shadows, not even 2 meters in front of where he stood, was a human (or at least it looked like one), it clung to the wall, almost like a spider mounted in a web waiting for it’s prey to move one step closer.
It didn’t have any sex-specific features and its eyes were a deep gold-yellow yet like no colour I had seen before. It wore no clothes and its spine protruded from its back, covered in thick red oil-like fluid that dripped onto the floor below.
I grabbed Simon’s hand and went to pull him back from the creature whose eyes were locked directly onto his, as I pulled on his arm, Simon’s right foot stepped back and stabilised, he shot a quick glance to the floor where his foot was landing and just like that…
It moved at the speed of light.
My eyes fixed on the creature one second and it’s gone the next.
Gone with it, Simon. They were both just, gone.
All that remained was Simon’s hand that still gripped onto my own, torn from its socket.
“S-Simon?” I said in shaky breaths, still holding his amputated arm that began dripping with blood. It was still here, I could feel it.
As my heart pounded out of my chest and tears welled in my eyes, a deep but quiet and gravelly voice came from behind me, although it wasn’t behind me, it was like it was in my head.. speaking from the base of my skull.
“Scream. Go on. I dare you”
I stood with tears now flooding down my cheeks.. my mouth hung open ready to yell as loud as i could for help, but no sound came out, only what felt like sharp fingernails clawing, scratching and taring its way up from inside my throat.
My jaw unhinged like a python. Taring the flesh from my face as my bones popped and snapped. The thing emerged from inside of me, digging and pulling its way out of my face screeching the words: “Scream. I dare you. Go on. Scream. No one can hear you.”
The pain. The fear. It was like nothing I had ever felt before and nothing I will ever feel again. The burning from the inside out as it exited my body. It all went black after that.
I don’t know what happened, but I regained consciousness, laying on the doorstep of the manor.
My jaw in-tact, not a scar nor scratch marked my skin from where the wounds tore at my very being. I reached down to my pocket where the joint i saved for us lay untouched.
I sparked up and lay there for a little while, staring into the window I was rested against.
The grandfather clock inside read 01:30am.
All i knew then was an overwhelming sense of what only i can describe as joy.
I don’t remember anything after I looked into its eyes.
All I know is it reminded me of home.