Enigmatic Fantasies #1 - The Woman From Lochmere Lane Part 1 [#31]

This is easily the longest story I've written for this blog, to the point I had to split it into two parts. Buckle up, this is going to be a long one. Also, for ease of reference, (~~~~) indicates the beginning and end of the story content, while (~--~) is a scene transition.
Also, if you haven't already, be sure to read this update about the changes to my update schedule: http://30leaves.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-new-schedule.html

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            As you drove further up the unfamiliar country road, you resisted the urge to glance at the newspaper in your passenger seat. You couldn't believe what happened, it made no sense for your friend to up and die like that. They had already acted strangely for the past several months, but you never expected this would be the result. Nobody has any straight answers on what happened, and the police dismissed it as a suicide. You only caught a glimpse of the body, but even you could tell that was no suicide. There's only one person you know of that could possibly have answers.

            You double check the note you tapped to your dashboard, "Valencia, 555-2368, 1919 Lochmere Lane." Your friend said that he frequently talked to this woman for advice. Although, he never specified what kind of advice. Regardless, she was the only one he has confided in for the past few months. She might be the single person who knows what really happened to him.

            Finally, you pull up to a gated driveway. Flanked by a black, iron fence that extended outward until it was swallowed by an adjacent tree line. Inscribed into the gate was, "1919," right next to an intercom. You pulled up your car and hopped out and wiped your brow as you exposed yourself to the hot summer evening. Before you could even touch the intercom it flared to life. "We've been expecting you," a distorted voice echoed from the device as the gate opened up by itself. Undeterred, you jumped back in your car and drove onward.

            After almost a minute you arrived at a circular driveway which sat beneath a massive, three-story mansion. Illuminated by the setting sun. You parked your car, grabbed the newspaper and made your way to the entrance. You were surprised to see the house was mostly dark. The only sign of life was a dim light that glowed from a second-floor window. As you approached the door it opened without warning. On the other side was an older, gray-streaked man, dressed to the nines in a suit and vest. His medium length black hair was slicked back, and his face was decorated with a pair of spectacles.

            "Welcome," he greeted you with a bow, "Valencia will see you now." He beckoned you forward, and you followed. Inside you entered into the mansion's foyer. Marked with a single grand staircase that lead to the second floor. The man lead you up the grand staircase, which felt like an eternity in of itself, and a sharp left into the second floor. You continued into a vast network of halls, the man took you through random turns. Yet, no matter when or where you turned, each time it felt like a wholly different part of the mansion.

            Eventually, you reached the end of the labyrinth of hallways. Signified by an intricate wooden door painted white and gold. The man opened this door, then turned to you and bowed, beckoning you in. As you entered the room, the door swiftly shut behind you. Now apparently locked inside, your attention was drawn to the figure at the other end of the room.

            Behind a magnificent wooden desk, beneath an ornate window that had a view of the moon that rose in the distance, was a woman who worked by candlelight. She had chocolate brown hair and a pale complexion. She wore a simple, white dress and was wrapped up in a thick, white coat, lined with brown fleece. A white hat, also lined with brown fleece, sat on the desk in front of her.

            "Please take a seat," she looked up from her work and gestured at a chair in front of her desk. You accepted her offer and sat down. As you got a close look you began to make out the few, noticeable wrinkles that lined her face. As well as her dull, lifeless blue-eyes. "So I assume you're here to discuss our mutual acquaintance?" She asked you.

            You responded with the newspaper, the headline displayed your friend's untimely demise.

            "I was afraid something like this might happen," she sighed as she brushed aside her work. "I warned him of the consequences of his actions, but it might have been too late for him by then."

            You raised an eyebrow at this.

            "Let me guess," the women, Valencia, continued. "You want to know what happened to them, but nobody will give you a straight answer."

            You nodded.

            "I figured," she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, "tell me how much do you know about your friend's hobbies?"

            You shrugged, you had no idea what she meant.

            "Well let me ask you this," she pulled out a cigarette, "do you believe in magic?"

            You shook your head.

            "Your friend certainly did," she offered you a cigarette, which you declined. "To put it simply, he got in too deep, too quickly and paid for it."

            You raised your eyebrow again.

            "Don't give me that look," she placed the cigarette in her mouth, "I told you the truth, isn't that what you wanted?"

            You grimaced, you wanted to know the truth, but this sounded ridiculous.

            "Well then, do you want the full story?" She pulled out a lighter, "That may take some time, are you comfortable?"

            You nodded.

            "Good," she lit the cigarette and took a long inhale. "Now where to begin," she exhaled the smoke, thankfully away from your face. "Let me start with the first time I met your dear friend. From the very start, I noticed a problem."

~--~

            I first met your friend about three months ago. I'd received an anonymous tip about them dabbling in forces they couldn't begin to understand. It had been a while since I had made a house call, so to speak. Thus, I decided to visit your friend personally.

            Me and my assistant Walter, you've met him already, pulled up to your friend's house. It at first seemed unassuming. It appeared as a simple, suburban home. No more special than the dozens of other near identical homes that lined the neighborhood. However, I've been around the block enough times to know that didn't mean anything. It was after we knocked on the door and he answered that I noticed the issue.

            I have no knowledge of what your friend looked like before, but it was obvious that something was wrong with him. His thin, gaunt face, his colorless, dull eyes. An uneven skin complexion and faded hair color were all symptoms I've seen a million times. However, I'm getting ahead of myself.

            Right away he asked me, "What do you want?"

            So I told him, "I know what you've been dabbling in. I'm here to warn you before it's too late." He scoffed at me, but I got his attention back when I asked him, "So where did you find the book? You take it from some dark corner of your local library?" That made him pale, and he finally agreed to hear me out.

            Once we were situated in his tiny living room I spelled out my warning as simple and straightforward as possible. "If you continue down this path, you will die."

            He took this as a threat and warned me to, "...Get out or I'll call the cops!"

            I revealed to him that, "Not even the police will be able to help you if you keep messing with that book." This information calmed him down a bit, and I was able to glean some information out of him. He explained that he found the book in a box of his late grandfather's belongings a month or so prior, and began to curiously glance through it. He believed he was on the verge of uncovering some great power within the book.

            Now I know you're skeptical about this, how could a book influence your friend's health? It's simple, his grandfather, or another close relative, was involved in some variety of dark arts. Sadly, I never had a chance to see the book for myself, so I have no idea what particular brand of magic was at play. I have my theories though, it was probably some type of blood magic or even demon summoning.

            I informed him that the book, "...Will destroy you from the inside out. I suggest you bury it out in the woods and forget about it."

            He shook his head and affirmed, "I'm so close, I can't stop now."

            I repeated myself, "If you continue down this path, you will die." Then I got up and left. It was out of my hands. I came only to warn him, and he refused to heed my warnings. "Whatever happens next is your fault," I told him as I exited.

~--~

            "I honestly thought he'd lose his nerve at that point. Most do when I warn them," Valencia said as she took another puff of her cigarette. "I thought myself incapable of being naive at this point, but even I couldn't predict how far your friend would fall."

            You refused to meet her gaze.

            "Now, now no need to question the validity of my story just yet," she wagged her cigarette at you, "There is still more to tell."

            You look back at her.

            "I had thought that interaction would be the end of my dealings with your unfortunate friend," she continued. "But a month later we crossed paths by chance, and for the first time in a long time I began to pity someone."

~--~

            I had recently closed a particularly difficult case up in a nearby city. I was on the lookout for somewhere to either drown my sorrows or clear my head. Whichever came first. That's when I caught the sight of your friend. Despite the darkness of the night, it took only a glance at his face to be certain it was him. He was fare worse for wear, his skin was paling, his face was even gaunter and his eyes half-lidded and dull. I have no idea why he was in the city, but he appeared lost and disoriented.

            "I warned you did I not," I approached him. He didn't respond right away, he only managed to stare back at me for a good few minutes.

            When he finally spoke it was less than pleasant, "Are you following me?" His voice was chalky and parched, I presume he had begun to neglect food and drink.

            I didn't answer his question, "Every second you continue forward on this path is another second closer to your premature demise." He responded with an incoherent mumble. Which wasn't a surprise, long-term exposure to any form of dark arts tends to eat away at the mind. It can be manageable in measured doses, but your friend had failed to take that precaution.

            Now I'm no saint, nor am I even a good Samaritan. However, as I watched your friend on the verge of self-destruction, a rare feeling emerged in the shriveled up remains of my heart. Pity. I knew that there was no point in arguing with him. He was too far gone for that, but there was another way to bring him to his senses.

            I pulled a slip of paper from my person and handed it to him. "Takes this, if you need advice just call the number written here," I told him. He took the paper into his shaking hands and held it to his chest. "I recommend that you slow down your research for the time being. At least until you get your wits about you," I stated before I left him to his own devices. As I walked away into the night, he remained there with the paper clutched to his chest. Still shaking, still mumbling, even as I pulled out of sight.

~--~

            "On any other night, I would have left him to suffer in silence. But I needed to appeal to my conscience for personal reasons," Valencia explained. "It was a fifty-fifty chance he would actually call. Which mostly hinged on whether he actually got home that night."

            You scowled but said nothing.

            "As I'm sure you know he did call back," she flicked some ash off her cigarette, "and for the briefest moment I thought he might save himself." 

~~~~

TO BE CONTINUED

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I hope you enjoy the debut of my new anthology series, Enigmatic Fantasies.
Part 2: http://30leaves.blogspot.com/2018/09/enigmatic-fantasies-woman-from-lochmere_20.html

The New Schedule

The blog has been up and running for almost three months now, so I think it's time to introduce a method to the madness. From now on the stories on this blog will be following a stricter schedule and form, meaning you can generally tell what kind of story I'll be posting based on the day of the week or time of the month.
In addition, all of my stories will be headed under a different anthology based on genre. This way you can immediately tell what genre the story is by reading the title.
Without further ado, let me introduce the new anthologies:

Enigmatic Fantasies: Fantasy tales with a mysterious twist (1,000~ words).

Strange Sci-fi Tales: Science Fiction stories from the far side of the mind (500-1,000 words).

Eclectic Narratives: Short tales with no defined genre (500 words).

Night of One Hundred Horrors: Short Horror tales from the dark side of the mind (500+ words).

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From now on the blog will follow this schedule:*

Tuesdays: Eclectic Narratives or Strange Sci-fi Tales

Thursdays: Enigmatic Fantasies or Night of One Hundred Horrors

4th Thursday of the month: Enigmatic Fantasies double-length special (2,000+ words)

*except for this week, which will have an extra long Enigmatic Fantasy released in two parts on Tuesday and Thursday.

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Also, for October I'm doing a Night of One Hundred Horrors special. Thirteen stories released over the month, all horror stories, releasing on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

Until then Read, Comment and Enjoy.

An "Alien" Among Us - A Short Story [#30]

The Blog revamp will come next week alongside the extra-long story I talked about Tuesday. Until then, I have this silly story to fill in for today.

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            "Gentleman," Bill began as he greeted his five housemates. "After living with you for five years I've come to a realization. There is an alien among us!" Everyone at the table let out an audible gasp.

            "Are you certain?" Hugo Manfred asked while he adjusted his tie.

            "Absolutely," Bill assured. "Please wait here, I'll be right back with my proof. Don't go wandering off now, the alien might get yeah," Bill winked and left the room to a pregnant pause.

            The five housemates remained at their circular table: Hugo Manfred, Jonathon Smith, Perry Bronson, Jameson James, and Zorgoth Xandar. Each an upstanding member of the household. A beloved member of the community and lifelong friends. Yet all of them had a similar thought pass through their minds, 'They're on to me!'

            Hugo Manfred, the lovable office man, was the first to noticeably sweat. 'Twenty long solar cycles down the drain,' he thought, 'how did he figure it out? Was it when I probed the neighbor's dog? Did he see my shed scales in the bathtub?' Hugo wiped his brow with a napkin and hoped the other four didn't notice his panic. Fortunately for him, their minds were elsewhere.

            Jonathon Smith, the gardener, maintained a more stoic visage. Which hid his internal breakdown. 'This can't be true, my disguise is flawless,' his mind spun in panic, 'I knew I shouldn't have seeded that rose bush last week. That coy harlot has doomed me again. If she didn't flash her thorns so shamelessly this would never have happened.' Despite his mental anguish, Jonathon maintained his stone-faced appearance. Not that it mattered, as his housemates were too busy with their own problems to notice.

            Perry Bronson, the up and coming actor, struggled to not break character. 'Impossible,' he denied the situation. 'These puny brained humans cannot possibly see through my disguise. Let alone perceive my true form.' He pinched the bridge of his fake nose. 'It must be a bluff,' he rationalized, 'a pathetic attempt to lure me out into the open, but I won't falter.' While Perry continued to deny reality, his last two housemates verged on complete wrecks.

            Jameson James, the IT guy, showed no reaction to the news. However, within his body, his internal circuits buzzed with concern. 'SUBJECT: BILL HAS SUGGESTED HE IS AWARE OF THIS UNIT'S TRUE IDENTITY,' he processed. 'WORST CASE SCENARIO CONFIRMED. ACCESSING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL...ERROR NO PROTOCOL. REASON: THIS EVENT WAS DETERMINED TO HAVE A .000000009% CHANCE OF OCCURRING. ERGO NO DISK SPACE WAS ALLOTTED.' Jameson's internal computer was in complete meltdown as it tangled with this scenario. Yet, the last housemate was perhaps the worst off.

            Zorgoth Xandar, the "normal human person," adjusted his comically large sunglasses with his long, gray fingers. 'I knew it! They were only humoring me all this time,' Zorgoth sweated. 'I just had to give them my real name in a panic. All that effort in my disguise was pointless because of one stupid, little mistake.' In his hysteria, Zorgoth tightened the straw hat on his oversized, oval-shaped cranium. He readjusted the Hawaiian shirt on his tiny body and straightened the sandals on his giant, two-toed feet. As flustered as Zorgoth was, his housemates were still too far lost in their own issues. They never spared him a single thought.

            As each of the five reached the crescendo of their anxiety, another shared thought slipped through each of their minds. 'I must destroy them all before I am exposed further.' As each came to this same conclusion, every one of them prepared their own method of offense. Hugo began to bare his razor-sharp, reptilious claws beneath the table. Jonathon began to shed the lower half of his body. Which revealed numerous vines covered in poisonous thorns. Perry began to focus sharply and draw upon his vast well of psychic powers. Jameson slowly began to transform his obscured hands into large rifles which hummed with energy. Lastly, Zorgoth reached into his loose pants to retrieve an almost toy-like ray gun he had taped to his thigh.

            In a flash, all five housemates brandished their weapons and opened fire. Hugo slashed at Jonathon, who whipped his vines at Perry, who fired a blast of psychic energy at Jameson, who shot twin laser blasts at Zorgoth, who fired a ray of energy at Hugo. Before any of them could realize what was happening all attacks hit. Each of the housemates and the room they stood in were obliterated in mere seconds.

            Only a moment later Bill returned to the room. A cake shaped like a green alien head held proudly in his hands. "Told you there as an alie...What happened to the living room?!" Bill's mouth stood agape. The room his five housemates stood in was reduced to a single wall which he stood adjacent to. As Bill remained there, frozen in absolute shock, a remnant of the room fluttered to his feet. It was a calendar. The current date was circled in red, "April 1st: 5th Housewarming Anniversary."

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This was one of the story concepts I came up with months ago, then filed away and forgot about. It was fun to write, and works as nice little send-off for this era of my blog. Next Tuesday, the blog gets a revamp and an actual schedule beyond simply "a random story every Tuesday and Thursday."
Until then Read, Comment and Enjoy.