Chapter 1: House Call.
The story starts at Tech-Help, a small computer & electronics store in downtown Toronto. Pedestrians pass by on the busy street outside. The walls inside are lined with phone & computer cases with arrays of different chargers & tech accessories. There are 2 desks in the middle of the store displaying different brands of computers, both desktop & portable. Greg is alone in the store, standing behind the counter.
The phone rings.
“Thank you for contacting Tech-Help, my name is Greg, how may I help?”
“Hello there, my name is Ambrose, how are you doing today?”
“I’m fine thanks & how can I help?”
“I am looking to purchase a computer first and foremost. I’m also having issues with my home internet & original computer.”
“Ok & what kind of computer are you looking for? & what exactly are the issues you’re experiencing with your internet & computer?”
“Well, I believe the one I have is an Apple machine so I would most likely go for their latest, uh, evolution I suppose. As for the internet connection, oh it’s very spotty indeed. Quite aggravating. As for the old computer will just cut off randomly.”
“Have you tried turning the router off & on again?”
“Yes, I can’t unplug it though, I can’t reach behind anymore to do it. Sometimes it makes bizarre noises, a kind of..zap, or buzz perhaps? Forgive my ignorance. I have a hard time explaining these things. I’m an old man, as you can probably tell. Can I perhaps book a home visit please? I will need help to set the new computer up, but also get the old one up & running. At least long enough to take the content out of it & into the new one that is.”
“We may be able to do home visit yes, let me see what we have available. What days’ work for you?”
“Oh any. I am retired.”
“Ok great. I have availabilities on Friday. May I have your address please?”
“It’s a little off the beaten path, I live in Brighton, Ontario, my postal code is- “
“Oh I’m sorry sir, that’s too far. We only offer services for the city of Toronto. Is it possible for you to call into the store with the old computer so we can take a look at it? We can have the new one ready for pickup too?”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, our car no longer starts. That is disappointing. Out of curiosity, what are your rates of service?”
“It’s $120 an hour, but again just for the city of Toronto.”
“Well, I’m in quite a bit of distress over my electronics. I have no children, & my Wife is bedridden. I was hoping to perhaps use these computers for doctor visits for her, hence the urgency.”
“I’m very sorry to hear th- “
“I can pay you both handsomely.”
“Both?”
“You guys normally operate in pairs, correct?”
“Yes, we do have a buddy system for safety reasons”
“Quite wise. $600 each. Truthfully, there aren’t many issues I need help with bar the ones I mentioned. I’ll even throw in travel expenses & supper, for good measure.”
“That is very generous of you sir, but it is against company policy to venture outside the city. I hope you understand.”
“Well, that is a shame. Still, I do hope you have a nice evening”
“You too, thank you for your call.”
The call ends. Greg’s eyes fixate on Ambrose’s number on the phones call log as he fiddles with his pen. Later, while Greg is on lunch break, he goes to a nearby café to buy a bagel & coffee. His card gets declined. Greg bluffs it off to the Cashier as a chip issue that happens often. He steps out of the queue & checks his balance. All of $2.37 in his account.
He goes back to the stockroom to sit down, eating a bag of chips he managed to buy with loose change. While sitting down & eating his chips, he checks his voicemail:
“Hi Greg, it’s Chris again, I am still waiting on the rent from both November & December, please get back to me as soon as possible.”
Greg gets back to the store, unlocks the door & flips the sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN. Enter Julie, AKA Jules.
“I am so fuckin’ late. Is Tony in today?” Jules asks, slightly out of breath.
“No you’re good.”
“Well he’ll see I was late on my timecard eventually but screw it. I don’t get paid enough anyway.”
“I hear ya.”
“I’ll clock in now & then you can go on your break”
“It’s fine I already took a 15, I’m done soon anyway.”
“Oh… sorry about that!”
“It’s ok, it happens. You know Tony’s changing the commission policy where any more than 10% absenteeism disqualifies you for getting commission?”
“YOU’RE KIDDING?!” Jules replies in surprise. “Welp, there goes my bonus for the month then. I was right on track too. Not like I have mouths to feed or anything.”
“You don’t have kids?”
“No but I have cats. Insatiable, needy cats with vet bills.”
Jules walks out of frame to the back of the store; Greg looks back to the landline phone. He goes back to Ambrose’s number, then jots down the number on his notepad. He removes the note, folds it & puts it in his pocket. Later that evening on the subway on his ride home, Greg looks at the number on the note & types it into his phone.
As Greg gets home that night, opening ramen in the kitchen he dials the number:
Gre “Hi there, is this Ambrose? Hi yes this is Greg from Tech-Help how are you? I’m well thanks, I’m just calling back as we may be able to make an exception…”
It’s 2 days later. Greg opens the door to Jules’s car:
“I brought snacks!” Greg says, holding up a
“Sweet, did you get coffee?”
“Ah shit no, I completely forgot, lemme go back inside, I’ll be 10 mi- “
“It’s fine, let’s just get going. I don’t want to lose any daylight. We can probably get something on the way.”
“Ok sounds good.”
Greg gets in the car & puts on his seatbelt. Jules starts driving.
“Sorry about the cat hair.”
“All good.”
“Wake n’ bake?” Greg asks, holding up a small joint.
“Sure.”
“You got a light?”
“Yeah here:”
Jules takes a red lighter out of her pocket & hands it to Greg.
“This is my lighter.”
“Is it? My bad.”
Greg takes a few pulls of the joint, then passes it to Jules .
“So you know where we’re going right?”
“Yep, I mapped it out last night. I’ll be your Satnav.”
“Ok great coz I haven’t got a clue. I got to admit this makes me a little nervous.”
“Oh he sounded like he was ancient” Greg assures her. “Nothing to worry about.”
“No not that, the fact that if we get found out we get fired.”
“That’s why it’s only gonna be the once. It’s serious money. I called him again to arrange it. He purchased the computer over the phone & as far as Tony knows the customer picked it up when he wasn’t on shift.”
“Alright, one & done. Wait this is gone out, pass me the light.”
“The store has been crazy quiet lately, I think we need this anyway.” Greg hands her the lighter.
“So what computer did he purchase?”
“That’s the thing; he bought the latest iMac model but completely souped out with maximum RAM and two terabytes storage. $2600!”
“Holy shit, we did need this.”
“Right?! We’re gonna make bank today. So, what are we feeling music-wise? Passenger is always the satnav/DJ, pass me the auxiliary.”
“Oh I don’t have one…”
“Radio it is then!”
Greg turns the radio on as they continue driving to their destination.
Chapter 2: Arrival.
(Much later in the afternoon)
“I know you said it was in the sticks & all but I haven’t seen any signs of civilisation the past hour.”
“I know, we’re almost there, it’s just a little furt- there! There’s the mailbox! He said we turn left at the bronze mailbox with the birds on it, up the driveway & we’re there!”
“Finally!” Jules sighed a sigh of relief.
They continued up the large tree-lined driveway until the house loomed in front of them. It was quite a marvel in comparison to its surroundings, completely tucked away from the world behind a fortress of trees, it was a weathered yet beautiful 2 story Victorian house. What wasn’t covered in dead ivy revealed chipped paint, yet it had maintained its impressive woodwork. There were little-to-no signs that anyone was actually living there. They park just in front of the porch. Greg opens the back car door; reaches in & hands Jules a bag pack & lifts out a large computer box. They both step up on the porch & reach the door which boasted a beautiful stained-glass window, all the while the wood creaking under them. Greg knocks. Silence.
”We’re not early our we?” Jules asks.
“Nah it’s 2.30… I think I hear someone coming anyway.”
They hear the click & clacks of locks being unlocked behind the door. Both Jules & Greg give their best, warm, Customer smiles as the door opens. Standing before them is Ambrose. He is about 6’1”, slim, bald on the top with white whisps around the sides & back. He is wearing a navy wool sweater with the collar of a white shirt underneath, black slacks & plain black shoes. His face was sunken & skeletal, pale except for dark skin around his piercing eyes. He smiled at them both revealing grey & yellowed teeth.
Ambrose: “Hello! Oh how wonderful you both came” He spoke in a slightly raspy tone with an unusual, unidentifiable accent.
Immediately upon entering they were hit with a slight, stale smell in the cold air. The landing was stereotypical of an older, upper/middle-class North American home, boasting original handcrafted woodwork with a mirror & side table to the right with an old coat stand. A staircase to the left leading to the upper floor, while down past it was a narrow corridor leading to what was most likely the kitchen. There was a sitting room to the left which looked as though it had been plucked right out of a 50’s interior decorating magazine & hadn’t been touched since.
“Would you like me to take your coats?” Ambrose asks politely. “Is that box heavy?”
“That’s ok!”
“Yeah I’ll keep my coat on too if that’s alright.” Greg agrees.
“Ah, the cold. My apologies, I never have visitors & I’m rather used to it. Oh what kind of host am I?!
“That’s no problem at all sir” Greg assures Ambrose while rubbing his hands together “So as discussed on the phone with you this is Jules who will be working with me.”
“Nice to meet you!” Jules declares with a warm smile.
“Hope you found your way here alright. I know it’s rather secluded.”
“Not a problem! So you mentioned there’s a computer in the library?”
“Straight to business I see!” Ambrose chuckles. “Yes, upstairs in the library. Follow me. Oh, I do appreciate the exception you made to your rules to help an old man & his wife out.”
“I really love your home Ambrose” Jules says, admiring her surroundings. “May I ask how old it is?”
“Oh this house has been in our family since 1840.”
“That’s pretty amazing!”
“Yes, well the renovations have certainly been costly. Luckily, I am comfortable so it’s been well worth it.”
As they ascend the stairs, they both gaze at the old black & white photographs lining the walls & newspaper clippings that appeared to be as old as newspapers have been around. Ambrose is lightly singing a melody, both Greg & Jules recognise it as I Only Have Eyes For You. As they reach the top of the stairs, they see paintings of different eras lining the walls, some appearing to be as recent as the 20th century but some reminiscent in style of art from the Renaissance period. One in particular grabs their attention:
“Oh what an amazing painting that is!” Gasps Jules.
A portrait painting of a middle-aged man & woman, donned in black clothes lined with pearls & emeralds & both wore large white, ruffled collars & appeared to be of noble class.
“It really is impressive. Can I ask who this painting is of?”
“Those are my ancestors. Great, great Grandparents. This was painted in London, England in the 1600’s, they were a Lord & Lady.”
Neither one of the pair in the painting seemed to have any resemblance at all to Ambrose, with no similar facial features. The man was large & frumpy in contrast to Han’s slender frame, while the woman also had a fuller face & ginger hair.
“If you like antiques I have an entire house full of them. Die Bibliothek ist gleich hier durch.”
“Sorry?” Greg asks in confusion.
“The library is just through here!” Ambrose corrects himself.
Ambrose takes out a ring of keys & unlocks the door to the library. The back wall is lined with old books with an old mahogany desk in the centre, & a large late 90’s/early 2000’s desktop computer. Ambrose attempts to give them both a rundown of what he thinks may be wrong with the machine, albeit from a clearly ignorant point of view. Greg & Jules make little effort to listen to his words as their attention has been stolen by their dust-covered surroundings, donned with curious antiques & objects that are clearly not from this century.
A brown, old world globe bar in the corner, a very large gold mirror on the left wall next to a grandfather clock, an ancient looking bronze helmet seemingly of Nordic origin, an Aztec-appearing green statue of what looked like a ferocious priestess wearing a headdress & holding a sheath. Extraordinary medieval tapestries hung on the walls protected behind glass frames, depicting anything from wars to harvests to worship.
“Here it is.”
Jules & Greg make their way to the computer. Greg puts the box down on the desk while Jules takes off her bag pack & sits in the office chair.
“Ok so it is technically connected to the internet, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Ambrose where is the router?”
“It’s down in the basement. I can show you?”
“Sure let’s go”
“For the sake of efficiency, why don’t I go down & checkout the router situation & make sure it’s all in working order, maybe it just needs to be moved up a floor. You can set up the new computer up here & maybe troubleshoot the old one to see if it’s on the computers end that the connections not working, if you’d like?”
“Works for me, I brought a repeater also, so I’ll set that up here too. If I need anything I’ll text yo-“ Jules looks at her phone & realises there are 0 bars of service.
“Know what? Scratch that, I have no service. Makes sense being all the way out here. Ambrose, do you know the WIFI password?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. Can I get you guys’ tea or coffee?”
“It’s probably on the router, I’ll take a pic & bring it up. I’d love a coffee please Ambrose.”
“Me too!”
“Very well then.”
Greg walks out of the office while Ambrose holds the door open for him. As Ambrose closes the door behind them, he stares at Jules who is now too focused on unpacking the computer to notice him.
Chapter 3: The Web
Ambrose opens the door to the basement & pulls on the chain for the lightbulb, illuminating the staircase.
“You’ll have to forgive me, it’s the least flattering room of the house. If you want to mosey on down, I will get the coffees.”
Just as Greg reaches the bottom of the stairs, Ambrose calls for him:
“Oh & Greg!”
Greg turns back around & looks up the stairs at Ambrose.
“Milk & sugar?”
“Yes double-double for both of us.”
“…Pardon?” Ambrose says confused.
“Uh, I take 2 milk 2 sugar, as does…Jules.”
The lightbulb is above & behind Ambrose, making him a mostly black figure now. His eyes however, looked as though they had a strange glint to them that Greg hadn’t noticed before. Greg could also make out the outline of a grin that was less friendly & more menacing. Greg realises he hasn’t seen Ambrose blink the entire time they’ve been there. Ambrose stares for another second that felt like a minute, then left the basement without another word. The whole interaction made Greg uneasy. He examines his dimly-lit surroundings & notices a slight green light coming from the far wall. He turns the flashlight on his phone, further illuminating the basement as he walks forward, his face narrowly avoiding a spider in its web, rolling its trappings up in its silk.
“Gross” Greg remarks in disgust.
It was certainly the oldest appearing area of the house that Greg had seen. It was a large basement with wood flooring, tools hung on the left wall below a very small rectangular window that give practically no light, metal shelves lining the right wall donned with miscellaneous jars & boxes. Oddly, there was an old stone water fountain fixed to the front wall, while there were white sheets covering furniture scattered around. Several masks hung from rope from the ceiling, some appearing of Amazonian origin while others Venetian, but all share the same quality of appearing to be several century’s old. Everything was covered in cobwebs & dust, while there was a damp smell in the cold air. To the right of the front wall was the green light emanating from the router.
Greg makes his way to the router & hits the power button, waits a couple seconds, then turns it back on. After rolling his sleeves up, he uses his hand to trace the dusty power cable to the back of the nightstand. Greg lightly sighs. He’s going to have to move the mahogany nightstand. Greg puts the phone down by a leg of the metal shelfing, upright to light the task at hand. Greg lifts & pulls it towards himself, slowly. He can feel items moving around inside, but he knows better than to open doors in a private residence where he is working. He grunts as he again lifts & pulls it further out from the wall.
“How are you faring?”
“Christ!” Greg almost jumps out of his skin.
He turns to face Ambrose, standing with a vintage silver tray holding two small cups of coffee.
“I’m sorry, you frightened me, I didn’t even hear you come down.”
“No Christ here I’m afraid!” Ambrose lightly chuckles. “Your coffee.”
“Oh thank you.” Greg takes a cup, blows on it & then takes a sip.
“mm, that’s good.”
“I’m glad it’s to your liking.”
Ambrose stands staring at Greg for a minute, who’s discomfort is now palpable.
“So…” Greg says, looking around him.
“I’ll bring the cup back up to the kitchen if you’re finished. They’re my Wife’s beloved China.”
“Oh…ok sure.”
Greg finishes the coffee in the cup & puts it back on the tray.
“May I ask your background Gregory?”
“It’s just Greg actually. I’m Irish & moved to Canada about 7 years ago.”
“You ever hear the phrase ‘The Luck of the Irish’? Well people today take it to mean the Irish people have good fortune, while the truth is the contrary. As I’m sure you’re aware, historically speaking the Irish have had terrible misfortune, & the saying was meant to infer bad luck. Just another term lost to time.”
“That’s interesting! Although I should get ba- “
“Born in Ireland you said?”
“Yes.”
“Uncircumcised then?”
Greg’s mouth drops & eyebrows raise in surprise.
“…I’m sorry” Greg states sternly “I’m not comfortable answering that.”
“Oh aha, I am sorry. You reach a certain age & words just seem to fly out the mouth without consideration. I meant it as a positive though. Unnecessary mutilation, never understood it. No, it’s much better that you’re not.”
Greg is offended at the topic of conversation & debating if he should just go get Jules & call it a day, but he didn’t want to drag her all the way out here for nothing. Besides, he needs the money. At least he’s not harassing Jules right now.
“Oh that is a pity.” Ambrose says, eyeing Greg’s forearms.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your…tattoos, I believe they’re called. What a pity you ruined the skin like that.”
Greg is taken aback once again by Ambrose’s comment.
“Well I like them.” Greg says sharply. “If you don’t mind Sir, I need to focus on the job at hand now. Thank you for the coffee.” Greg turns his back to Ambrose.
“A potato peeler.”
“…Excuse me?” Greg rolls his eyes and looks back again at Ambrose, clear irritation in his voice now.
“A potato peeler would do the trick. Peel the top layers of the skin off until there’s no more visible markings. I first thought of a cheese grater but that would be rather messy & cumbersome, ha! No, a potato peeler would do nicely. Certainly, it would leave nasty scars, but I do believe that would still be preferable than those unsightly markings.”
Greg leans back on the nightstand. He’s become lightheaded, nauseous, & his vision is blurry. He focuses as much on the basement stairs as much as possible & weakly tries to push Ambrose out of the way, but Ambrose simply takes a step back & avoids him.
Greg staggers towards the stairs for 2 or 3 more steps until his legs give out below him. He crawls towards the stairs, trying to shout for Jules but only managing to grunt her name. As his hands grab the second step, he feels his face become covered & head yanked backwards, a zip tie closes around his neck. He is being smothered. He tries to pull & frantically rip at the face-covering, but his arms are weak, & he is extremely disorientated. He feels Ambrose’s hand on the back of his head, & suddenly his head is quickly & forcefully forced towards the step–
THUD…THUD.
Greg’s head is repeatedly slammed off the step. Greg falls to the side, silent for a moment - until a light cough is heard beneath the plastic.
“You are a persistent one!” Ambrose remarks frustratedly.
He reaches in his pocket & reveals a pocketknife. He pulls Greg’s head far back once again & slowly slices Greg’s throat open. Blood pools on the floor as Greg gurgles blood & twitches. Ambrose cleans off the blade with a handkerchief from his pocket & closes the pocketknife.
Jules hears a knock at the library door followed quickly by Ambrose entering.
Pardon me, don’t mean to disturb you working. Here is your coffee.”
“Oh thank you!”
As Ambrose walks his way to the desk, under his breath he is singing the same song from earlier. Jules takes the cup of coffee from him.
“Is Greg still down there? The connection still isn’t working…”
“He wanted me to tell you he is moving the router up a floor to the living room; he’ll be just another minute.”
“Uhm, ok, well I have the new computer up & ready, the old one is ready to transfer the data too. Repeater is good to go; all we need now is an actual internet connection to start the migration… Why don’t I go down & hel- “
“May I ask you a few questions about this machine?”
“Sure.”
Ambrose proceeds to ask questions about how it all function & how it compares to the former & the very basics such as browsing the web, which Jules patiently answers, while taking swigs from her cup.
Ambrose turns his gaze from the computer screen to Jules .
“You have truly magnificent skin Jules . Soft, supple, fresh. Paired with blue eyes; how lovely!”
“Thank you. Is that a picture of you & your Wife?” Jules nods towards a picture frame on the desk in an attempt to not only change the subject away from her, but to remind Ambrose of his marriage.
“Ita quod nos.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Ah yes, that’s my Wife Perenna and I.”
In the black-and-white picture is a much younger looking Ambrose with a full head of hair wearing a sharp suit. Locking his arm was a beautiful woman who appeared to be of similar age. Both are standing outside the same house they are currently in, although the house looks much more newly built.
“Beautiful couple.”
“Thank you. I would introduce both of you, but she is currently very ill.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ambrose.” Jules says, with genuine empathy.
“That’s quite alright. She won’t be suffering for much longer.”
Jules looks down & frowns as her eyes droop.
“I’m not feeling great…”
Ambrose walks back to his armchair with the picture frame & sits down, putting the picture on a side table next to him to admire it.
“Both of us have been together so long it’s all we know now. At the beginning, oh what a privilege it is! You travel the corners of the world, learning new languages, poetry, music. But when there’s nothing left to be curious for, all that’s left is apathy; when every sight & sound, pain & pleasure has become overly familiar. What does one do when your once insatiable thirst for knowledge has been quenched?
I’ve seen the very depths of humanity’s kindness, but more so it’s cruelty. It’s all laughably predictable. It’s why we’re hidden away here, but we could never be far enough. What a dream it would be to live together all the way on the moon & just watch as everyone tears each other apart in their cycle of never-ending depravity. No. Nothing ever really changes.
These trinkets & tchotchkes may possess monetary or historical value, but the only value they bear to me is the memories they have attached. Taking me back to when I still had a lust for life.
If it wasn’t for Perenna, I would not be here now. To have someone to share all of it with, that is the TRUE privilege. To be able to share this blessing & curse of life with one another. Impervious to all except an aging shell, you see. She’s the only constant. The only reliable. Numb from the banality of existence & repetitiveness of the world yet when I look at her, I still feel something. I still feel love, excitement, purpose. That is why I am utterly devoted to her. That is why I keep going. As long as I still have breath in my body. Time may mean nothing to me anymore, but she still means everything.”
Jules has now passed out at the desk.
Chapter 4: Transfiguration.
Jules’s eyes open. Her vision is blurry as she tries to focus on a black shape who appears to be cranking a mechanical device. Her head severely aches, she tries to rub the back of her head, but her hands won’t lift. She looks down at her hands. They’re tied with zip ties to a leg of the metal shelfing. She panics & pulls; the leg doesn’t move. It suddenly comes back to her what she was doing right before she passed out. She looks down to see a body to her left, the head wrapped in blood-soaked plastic.
“GREG?!Oh no, no nooo… WHY?!” Jules cries.
“Regretfully matters had gotten rougher than anticipated. I have procrastinated once again & left it too long, hence the urgency. It’s such an unpleasant process every time.”
Ambrose is turning a crank in the wall that is opening a section of the floor, not unlike a trapdoor. As he continues to turn the handle, Jules can make out what looks like water. It now appeared that the stone fountain was actually a part of some bigger aquatic function, something below the floorboards.
“…What process?”
“Not for you to be concerned about.” Ambrose says without turning around.
Ambrose bends down & cuts off the zip tie around Greg’s neck with his pocketknife. He removes the now-red plastic off Greg’s heads. Jules looks in Greg’s dead eyes & whimpers. Ambrose proceeds to pull Greg by the legs towards the opening in the floor. He then unbuttons Greg’s shirt to reveal a white shirt, with blood down the chest of it from the gash in his neck. He then removes Greg’s shoes & rolls him into the opening with a splash.
“Look, whatever happened here, it’s done. We can see about working something out here Ambrose. Please, Ambrose? If you let me go it will fare much better for you in the long run than you killing both Greg & I. We have a job & families that will be looking for us, & they will find us.
If they find you murdered Greg & me, you will go to prison & you will never see the light of day – or your Wife – ever again. But if you let me go, maybe there’s a chance for leniency? Maybe you can see your Wife on visitation? I will vouch for you & say you were gentle with me, that you were overcome with grief when you realised what you’d done. You can say you blacked out & don’t even remember killing him!”
Ambrose opens the door to the mahogany nightstand to reveal a safe. He takes keys from his pocket & opens the door. He then takes out something wrapped in white cloth. Ambrose unwraps the cloth to reveal an old rock with a strange sigil engraved, visually similar to a rune.
“Does your Wife know what you’re doing Ambrose? HEY!” She shouts, angry now.
Ambrose ignores her. He rolls up his pants, slowly lowers himself to the edge & then enters the water. The water is shallow, not even up to his knees. After rolling up his sleeves, Ambrose seems to feel the bottom of the pool with an empty hand. Then, with the hand holding the rock, he puts the rock underwater & then stands up straight again, as Greg’s corpse bobs up & down slightly from the ripples Ambrose creates.
“Look. I’m somebody’s daughter. A sister. A friend. We can work SOMETHING out Ambrose.”
Ambrose finally looks at Jules & once again brandishes the pocketknife, which Jules eyes in terror. Ambrose puts the knife to his throat.
“Wait, what are you doing?! You’re just going to leave me to die alone down here?!”
“Oh worry not Dear; you won’t be alone for long!”
With that, Ambrose drags the blade across his throat, the blood gushing out as he smiles at Jules who watches in horror. Ambrose collapses back into the water. The reservoir of the fountain fills up with a now crimson mix of water & blood, as the spouts in the fountain suddenly spurt red streams into the pool.
Jules looks around the basement. Her head still aches.
It’s eerily silent now that the fountain has stopped. She puts her feet up to the metal shelving near where her hands are tied & pushes with her feet as hard as she can while pulling her hands towards her. She feels a burning pain around her wrists, but the three zip ties don’t budge. They’re far too tight to slip her hands out of them, try as she might. She chews on them as hard as she can but it’s pointless, she’ll be down here for days like this. Jules looks at her trouser pockets, no phone. She left it upstairs on the desk in the library. She leans back against the wall behind her. She feels something in her back trouser pocket. She awkwardly maneuvers her hands to the back of her trousers. She can’t reach into the pockets, but she slowly pushes the shape up towards the pocket opening. Slowly…almost there.
*Clunk, clank*
It’s out. She now shimmies her rear forwards & looks over her shoulder. Greg’s lighter! Jules gasps in relief. She manages to stretch her leg back & put her toes behind the lighter & nudges it gently towards her hands. Once it’s closer to her hands, she can now reach down with her face & lift the lighter with her mouth, bringing it to her hands. She grabs the lighter with her fingers & ignites it, holding the flame to the zip ties. One at a time they burn & melt, finally freeing her wrists. She breathes a sigh of relief before pulling herself up with the metal shelfing.
She walks to Greg’s phone, all the while her eyes fixated on Ambrose’s lifeless corpse floating in the water. She grabs Greg’s phone. “SHIT!” Jules yelled. She doesn’t know the passcode. Jules holds down the side button & volume button in an attempt to activate an emergency SOS call only to discover there’s no signal to make the call. She pulls down on the screen & hits the flashlight button to turn it on. Well at least I can use it for that, she thinks to herself. Jules turns around & points the light towards the stairs. She gives a quick last glance to both the bodies of Greg & Ambrose as she passes by, then hurries up the stairs. She twists & pulls the doorknob. Nothing. Harder now. Nothing again. It’s locked. She turns to look back down the stairs & swallows hard. She needs the keys.
“No hesitating” she thinks to herself “Quickly grab the keys, run back up & get the hell out of here”.
Jules descends the stairs, phone lighting the way. She slowly approaches the pool, staring at Ambrose who is in turn staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes, lifeless eyes.
“He’s dead for Christ’s sake!” she curses, in an attempt to reassure herself.
She tries to reach for him, but he is too far in the pool. Jules places the phone with the light side up & takes off her shoes. She’s left with no choice but to enter the water.
After rolling up her trousers, she carefully steps into the cold water until it’s almost up to her knees. Jules might have felt how cold it was if it weren’t for the pure adrenaline pumping through her veins.
She reaches into his left pocket; nothing. She takes one more glance in his eyes then reaches for his right pocket & pulls out the ring of keys. Grabbing them tightly she hastily exits the pool, puts her shoes back on, re-arms herself with the phone’s flashlight & rushes back up the stairs.
As she reaches the door, she quicky picks the first key at random, inserts it into the keyhole & tries to turn; no luck. Jules moves onto the next one, trying to mentally notate the appearance of the key she already tried. There were 10-12 keys on the ring of varying lengths, some shorter more modern, some longer brass skeletons keys.
Jules inserts the third key.
*splash*
Fear washes over. She crouches down to look at the pool, slowly lighting it with the phone’s light. She can make out the top of both the bodies, both in the same place & position they were in. She again reverts her attention back to the basement door. Faster now, she fumbles with the keys & attempts unlocking the door.
“Ok, not this one. Ugh not this one either. Wait, did I already try this one? No. Oh, c’mon please work…” She pleads.
*Splash*
Louder this time. Jules’s hair stands up on the back of her neck as her blood runs ice-cold. She again lowers herself to aim the light towards the pool.
Greg now is standing on the bottom of the steps. Pale as snow, dripping water with red stained down his t-shirt from the bloody gash in his neck, staring at Jules with cloudy-grey eyes. Jules recoils in horror.
“…Greg?” she whispers. That’s not Greg…
‘Greg’ doesn’t reply but begins running up the steps towards Jules. Jules quickly try’s the next key. She finally hears the door unlock & quickly pulls it open, exits the basement & locks the door from the other side just as ‘Greg’ was reaching her.
*SLAM*
‘Greg’ slams on the other side of the door. A pause.
Jules stares at the door for a moment. She hears ‘Greg’ sing the same song in the same old-fashioned cadence as Ambrose did earlier:
“My love must be a kind of blind love, I can’t see anyone but you..”
Jules snaps out of it. She races to the front door.
*SLAM* - she hears ‘Greg’ pounding on the basement door behind her.
The front door is padlocked with a small keyhole. None of the keys on the keyring match, they’re all far too large. Panic-stricken, she runs to the dining room window & draws the curtains. The shutters are closed from the outside, the window itself is nailed shut. She lifts one of the chairs & smashes the window with one hard hit. She then pushes on the shutters; locked, from the outside.
*SLAM* - Jules hears the basement door slam open.
She removes her sweater & uses it to grab a sharp shard of glass from the windowpane and places the keys in her pocket. ‘Greg’ enters the dining room.
“GET BACK! I’M FUCKING WARNING YOU!” Jules yells while pointing the glass shard towards ‘Greg’.
‘Greg’ slowly advances towards her as Jules backs up towards the opposite end of the dining room table. Jules moves towards the left of the table, & ‘Greg’ quickly does the same. Jules moves back to the right; ‘Greg’ copies her. A game of cat & mouse. Jules moves further to the right only for ‘Greg’ to switch & sprint down the right side towards her. Jules then runs for the dining room entrance, pulling the chairs behind her as she does so. The chairs slow ‘Greg’ down, but only slightly. Jules reaches the foyer with ‘Greg’ close in pursuit. She throws the coat rack down, tripping ‘Greg’ who trips over it & falls to the floor, earning her precious seconds.
She needs to get her phone. She races up the stairs to the office, hearing a loud angry groan behind her. She reaches the door; locked. She fumbles with the keys, inserts one & attempts to unlock to no avail. ‘Greg’ is almost at the top of the stairs; she doesn’t haven’t time.
“Greg! Stop! Please!” she screams.
Jules runs to the next door in the corridor; locked. She races to the last door. It’s also locked.
Jules despairs. This is it.
She quickly looks at the doorknob & keys. One of the skeleton keys had a unique art-deco style bow which matched the decal on the door handles plate. She inserts the matching key & unlocks the door, then slams it behind her and locks the door.
Silence now.
There’s no time to stall. She turns and runs towards the moonlight coming from a lone window on the far side of the dark room. There are no shutters, & it’s not nailed shut. She puts the glass shard down on the mantle, then lifts with all her might. It may not be locked but it is extremely stiff & heavy, she only manages to open it an inch.
Her attention is so focused on escape she doesn’t notice movement in the dark behind her.
In the queen-sized bed, a figure slowly begins to sit up. There’s the initial appearance of a slim old woman, bald except for thin grey strands of hair around the sides. All around the eyes area are pitch black, impossible to make out the actual eyes, her jaw is massive and open, appearing unhinged in a perpetual voiceless scream. Her skin was decayed and looked almost charred. Her movement is calculated yet inhuman, hunching over, she rises on the bed; her mass leaving from under the duvet as she continues to tower to an unnatural height.
Jules grunts as she struggles to open the window open just another inch. She stops. She can sense the presence behind her now. She slowly turns her head to see the figure behind her, eyelevel at first but then looks up at the monstrosity before her. Jules lets out a horrified scream as the creature drops on top of her.
A record spins on the record player downstairs:
My love must be a kind of blind love,
I can’t see anyone but you.
Are the stars out tonight?
I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright.
I only have eyes for you dear.
We hear Jules’s terrified screams and loud commotion from the bedroom; Fast footsteps, banging, clamoring. Glass smashing, followed by guttural growling. Jules shrieks in agony. Finally, two thuds, then silence.
‘Greg’ makes his way back up the stairs. He knocks three times on the door. The door is unlocked from the inside and creaks open. ‘Greg’ enters the room for a moment then comes out dragging Jules by the underarms, leaving a trail of blood following. When he reaches the stairs he drops her completely, then lifts and puts her over his shoulder to continue down to the basement. He throws Jules in the water with a loud splash. ‘Greg’ returns to the bedroom and helps Perenna downstairs to the basement. He places her down gently in the water. Every single breath she takes is heavily labored. She has a large gash in her cheek, inflicted from Jules. Ambrose kisses her forehead and then slits her throat. Perenna releases one last breath, as red streams once again jet from the fountain.
Later, in a room that was previously locked, the formerly known Greg & Jules, now Ambrose and Perenna, are dancing hand in hand, spinning in each other’s arms. Perenna’s body, formerly Jules, is soaked. Her head is bloody, with blood covering the right side of her face. Her neck appears to be broken, yet she has a smile plastered on her face, gazing into her suitors’ eyes which is happily returned.
They both continue to dance & the record continues to play:
You are here,
And so am I.
Maybe millions of people go by,
But they all disappear from view,
And I only have eyes for you.
The End.