Dead-water - Gothic Horror

#Please read my 1st Gothic Horror story, not that good, but hopefully a tad freaky and strange!

Preface

It was a long placid night of December. The trees swayed in the cold, sharp breeze and all was tranquil. Suddenly, thick balls of snow began to cave in and loud thumps echoed from the rooftop. It lasted several hours. At last, a whisper to the ear and snowflakes tumbled down from the violet sky. Inside was less beautiful, cramped and tight. Mum’s obsessed with Christmas. We have a festive object in every corner. I hate Christmas. The expenses, stress, panic, our tall and powerful tree and that creepy snowman we have out every year. Mum reassures me “This year will be different!” Yes. Something always happens on Christmas.

Chapter One

Mum has gone Christmas shopping. Again. I don’t quite know what she does down town and I’m not about to ask. I don’t mind being home alone either, peace and me. It’s quiet. It’s great! I usually watch T.V or raid the kitchen.

I scrolled through the T.V guide, glaring at all the Christmas films. Hmph!

I wandered into the kitchen excitedly. My thrill was soon killed to discover a bare fridge and an empty cupboard, almost empty. A silver tin. Gently slotted in between the cereal and stale, brown bread.

The tin was sealed, but not for long. I emptied the contents onto a plate and returned to the lounge. I sat down and one by one I ravenously devoured each biscuit. Scrumptious, delightful, delicious cookies! Where they Belvita? Oreos? Whatever they were, I savored every mouthful, slightly spicy and warm as if they’d just been baked fresh. I had no idea where, how or who, just that this couldn’t get any better…or any worse. As one had the most bizarre taste, it tasted peculiar: metallic, gingery and tangy. Then something cool, this wasn’t a cookie at all. I darted to the sink and spat out the question mark. I had coughed up a key, which was the tiniest of keys, gold, rusty and antique. The top was an irregular spiral shape, leading down to a miniature cut of a butterfly. I was bewildered, stunned and a tad alarmed. Had I just eaten a key?

I washed the key. After a hot soak and a few squirts of fairy liquid, it shone. However, it didn’t belong to anything. This key seemed to fit in something completely out of this world. Not any of our drawers or jewelry boxes or cabinets. I even tried it in Mum’s safe! No luck. I went back to the kitchen and sat at the table. Thoughts raced around my head, questions unanswered. My head fell into my hands, trying to control this unruly migraine. When I raised my head I found an envelope lying in the centre of the hollow tin. It was addressed to ‘Finder’. Eagerly, I teared it open and read:

To the finder of this key,

I bet you’re wondering what it could be?

What does it belong to? A chest? A drawer?

I bet you’re eager to find out more.

Well hold your horses, pause a minute; don’t you dare think that you’ve won it!

This key is anything but pleasure,

A story of secrets, dismay and measure.

Secrets never to be told,

Dismay to turn your blood ice cold,

And measure, oh this journey is old.

It’s going to take a long time for this mystery to unfold.

But go ahead, knock yourself out!

But I’m telling you now; you have no chance.

Ok, ok, I’m not that mean and I’ll give you a clue – Its somewhere green!

Take this ticket, the train leaves at 19:30, don’t be stylish, it’ll be dirty!

Somewhere natural and serene, this train will take you.

But don’t get too relaxed, that’s not how we play you!

There you’ll find the fit for this key…

Stop smiling friend; it’s not that easy!

At the end, you’ll be finally happy!

So quick, get moving and get snappy!

Oh, one last thing I’d like to say – thank you for making all this possible today!

I’ve waited so long for someone to miserably fail.

Hang on; I wont build my hopes up just yet…

Oh, whom am I kidding? Of course you wont prevail.

Sincerely,

My mouth dropped. The letter floated down as my hands gave way. An old ticket fell out with it. Yes. There it was. 7:30pm was highlighted. Oh, I mustn’t forget my road trip. Repeatedly, I travelled back and forth across the room. Should I go? I dithered. No. I’m not going anywhere I murmured to myself.

I plonked in front of the T.V. A woman isn’t really happy. Her husband has either cheated or she can’t go somewhere, ice skating perhaps? Before I knew it a dog was on the screen barking. Then Santa, putting presents under a tree.

Obviously, I couldn’t concentrate! What was I watching? My head was swimming, jam-packed with thoughts the size of boulders. NO! ENORMOUS BALLOONS! Each balloon bursting with wonder and questions. What if this turn of events was a sign? A symbol? A hint from Dad above? What if this could change our lives forever?

Yes. I’m going.

Chapter Two

It was 7pm. I’d spent most of the day packing, gathering gadgets and other items I needed for my trip; a torch, a Swiss army penknife, my mum’s purse and of course my mobile phone.

I arrived at the station about 7:15. I sat in a molded, plastic chair waiting for my train. Everywhere was quiet. I stared beyond the tracks. Was I making the right decision? I examined my ticket.

19:30 Deadwater, Northumberland

The name of the place filled me with dread. I pictured a thick black pool, fish floating at the top, lifeless. Although, my imagination has always ran away with me. A chill slithered slowly up the length of my spine. Too late to turn back now, here was the train.

I boarded. It was quite unusual, but then again I had never journeyed this far alone before. Inside the train was fairly archaic; divided up into separate cars. Each car with red velvet seats, floral lamps upon the little tables in between and all in front of silky, short curtains. I chose one and went inside, closing the door tight behind me. I sat back, eyes to the front at all times. The train pulled out from the station, the hypnotic rhythm of the wheels against the railway ricocheted around me. My eyes eventually closed.

Startled, I awoke to the sound of a loud voice. A man stood outside of my compartment, his finger tapping on his watch. I jumped up, got my bag and opened the door. He told me I had reached the last stop. “Deadwater?” I questioned him. No. I was in Otterburn. I showed him my ticket and he told me that there hadn’t been a route to Deadwater since 1956. I gulped. Nevertheless, he calmed me by saying I could get a taxi. “Thank god” I mumbled sarcastically.

Otterburn looked a lot more pleasant than I dreamed Deadwater to be. It seemed homely and warm; I could see a lot of cars and shops. I envisaged wildlife scurrying around vast meadows. I had hoped this would be my final destination.

My hopes short lived as I saw a taxi across the road, as if it was waiting for me.

The driver explained that it was fifty miles to Keilder, all my money gone. Then I thought; I had come this far. I’m going. I hopped in the back and I was on my way.

Car sick, dreadfully. It felt like a spinning ride for the whole forty odd minutes. It was dusk by now, it felt like it was getting darker and darker by the millisecond. Every inch the car made further down the road, there was a new shade: a twilight glow, then dark violet and then navy. Suddenly, he stopped the car. I jerked forward. He smiled wickedly and told me to pay up. Stranded, I was left.

It was as if he’d stopped at the sign of Deadwater, not a centimeter further. I stared beyond the long, bumpy road. This was going to be a long night. I looked skyward towards the moon, being the only source of light there was.

I had no idea where I was going. No one to ask. I got out my ticket once again, scanning both sides searching impatiently for an answer. On the back, at the bottom, it said ‘Forward, turn left, forward, turn right, forward, stop’ I guess that’s my answer. I ambled cautiously forward. I felt trapped, sandstone walls either side of me. I shuffled nearer to my left and stroked the wall with my hand as I walked. Damp moss prickled my fingers; still I had to grip something.

Then, I turned left. I saw, what seemed to be, the old train station. Disused. Scary. It looked as if it was about to collapse, I wouldn’t have used any of their transport! Opposite, outside the other wall, was an immense lake. Still. Inert. Dark. Hypnotizing. Dead water. Shaking my head, I wasted no time and carried on. Subsequently, I turned right. Chills zapped my body and I panted as the cold, night air stabbed my face. Outrageously frightened I had been. What kept me going was the sensation of inquisitiveness I had. Stop. This was it I guess. I looked up, from bottom to top, in front of me; a colossal, wrought Iron Gate.

Chapter Three

Pushing the gate, I felt a resistance, as it wouldn’t open any more. An ornate padlock hung from a metal chain. I recognized the hole, a butterfly. I brought out the key, inserted it into the lock and turned. The latch sprung unlocked, the chain fell to the floor and the gates flung open as if to welcome me. I hesitated for a couple of minutes; illusions sprinted around my head, messages from my brain to turn around. What would my Mum be thinking? No. I’m doing this for her. I knew there was something behind all this. Something beneficial. I marched up the path.

A mansion reared up before my eyes as I navigated the steep slope. I knocked. It’s politeness. Not that I thought anyone would have been home. The door automatically creaked open. I stood in the hallway, took the torch out my backpack and turned it on, directly in front of me was a staircase. Weirdly enough, there were no cobwebs in a place that looked like it had no visitors. Apparently not even the odd spider. Zilch.

I swallowed involuntarily. Although my mouth was dry, I yelled to see if anyone was there. No answer. I decided to climb the stairs. I suspected that’s what they wanted me to do. Whoever ‘they’ were. I reached the landing. Crunch, crunch, crunch beneath my feet, I aimed the torch at my trainers. A trail of crumbs led up to a door, which read on it ‘Cookie Factory’. I chuckled. Then, I entered. Flashing my torch around the room, I could see stacks of tins, identical to the tin back at home. Crude baking utensils were scattered across a table, even more crumbs. At the end of the table, a white, Tupperware box sat. Peering in, I could see a mountain of butterfly keys; exact replicas of the key that had initiated my journey. At other side of the room, there was an adjoining doorway. Gingerly, I ventured through into the shadows. My torch beam hit the edifice of a solid, gold cube. Was this it? Waves of joy and trepidation jostled for position in my mind. I ran to it, my hands caressed the smooth, shiny surface. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a hole. I put my hand in: a doorknob? If outside was made of pure gold, what was inside, treasure? Elatedly, I twisted it. To the right of me, which seemed to be a door, slid open.

I went inside, my eyes shut tight. I exposed one eye; all was dark, apart from one corner. A long, gold chain hung from a dim spotlight. A small sign on the wall, with the single word ‘close’ was written. Was I close? Had my trip finally come to an end? I made my way over, kicking into a few things below. I stretched for the chain and pulled hard.

A bright light illuminated the entire cube. Simultaneously, the door closed back into its secret position. I looked around. Skeletons were strewn throughout the room. I realised then, that word meant shut. I felt sick as my stomach formed a whirlpool. Regret and panic overpowered me. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I understood my stupidity. My Mum and my friends, would I ever see them again? I wanted to turn back; I wanted to be back home. How could I have been so reckless? I felt, not only trapped, but banned from the world: alone, other than the bloodcurdling company of the spirits roaming around me. Was this a punishment? Losing control, I shoved myself against the walls hunting wildly for an exit. I bit my lip and closed my eyes. Please be a dream; please be a dream, please be a dream.

I bawled with terror as my eyes caught sight of a single sentence across the wall beside me.

‘CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT’