"Damned" By Alexander Kerri

Only madness could seduce of that being. That things isn't what it seems to be. It is not a house, and it is not empty, even if I depart. There are people in that house, yet they refuse to speak. Only during the lunar hours they are able to communicate. I try to figure out as of why those citizens never speak to me in person, why can't they ever reveal of their identities? Well, I decided to investigate the day I stepped in it. It was March 3, 1972. It were to be the house of my great grandfather Elizer Ferau, he were a man of supernatural discussion and wanting to ever-so speak of what dark magic could adapt within himself. But the night he ceased to do so, he vanished strangely.

Police solitary found bloodprints staining every curtain of his study, potions of god-knows-what spilled all over the floor, and his diary to be burning in the elder fireplace, perhaps of those demons to carry-on a delicate secret, carried over my natural ancestry. As I lurk the house, I yet shiver as to what happened during that time. I imagine the blood, stained upon my sheets, and the moans of those demons, trailing and scrambling within the mansion's chapel, yet that chapel remains uninhabited at the moment.

The house started off as a small ballroom before, during one of those nights, the orchestra had began to play a queer tune, one that sounded of a strange ritual-like melody. As the citizens began to dance during the song, one by one they started to go mad for what seemed to be of music or demonic possession. They scratched the curtain, they stabbed each other and one lit the place on fire. Those citizens were found dead the next morning, their ashes and bones looked as if they were to be grieving during their death.

They were buried below the ballroom in an underground burial ground, then mounted over the mansion my grandfather were to built with his buddies, the mansion were to be in completion after three long years of sweat and ingenuity. The mansion were to take on a Gothic style. the architectural patterns were of gray and the towers of black, Elizer watched the mansion in pride. Yet, as he moved in he heard of strange music, music of that night, the music of that demonic ritual. He were to never sleep in days, he kept investigating and searching for those orchestration until he passed on mysteriously. Now I was the last in my ancestry to finish the mystery. I prayed for bravery.

I began room-checking and nothing seemed to catch my eye of any mysterious activity, only were books to be inhabited upon their shelves in every room. I were to grow very fond of weariness once I reached the staircase, a flight of stairs, circling to the very bottom of the finishing step. I groaned then realized, an opening within the wall. I sighed in relief, hoping that I might discover something within it. It were of great strength, I used a nearby crowbar to open the latch then to open of the opening.

All I were to vision were a tunnel, a tunnel which were to illuminate over an eerie blue light which were far from my vision. I traveled far within the small tunnel inhabited of the many cobwebs their. As I finally were to walk within an entrance, I saw a room, a grand room, where the roof were to be of glass and the moon illuminated over the room, the floor were to yet be polished over many years, it were of chrome tone. I then saw a note, with my name printed in red ink saying:

If thou hath reached this area of the house, you must depart quickly, for this room is where I used to practice of my dark magic. You must leave at once.

I decided to walk back quickly but—the latch were gone and it were replaced of a face, a face with those wide eyes and that sinister mouth, it were somebody.

"Welcome to hell" home of barry mannlo's music and Nicholas Cage

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