Children of Cernunnos Read online

  “Kindness is met with kindness,” Mrs. Alice replied with her characteristic large smile and deep hearty laugh.

  After breakfast Elise made her way into the atrium, pulling on her large black boots and tying the knots in the way that she was taught by her mother with the story of a chasing a rabbit into a hole. She pulled the large, white, arched door open, using her hand to shade herself from the bright morning sun.

  She followed the gravel path for a bit, skipping merrily in the breezy early summer air, her dark shoulder-length hair bobbing behind her like a streamer in the wind. She diverged from the path just past the third oak tree and headed toward the slightly rundown living quarters of the handyman. All around her was the fragrant smell of the cherry trees, their blood-red fruit glowing in the sun like tiny rubies set against the green leaves. She arrived to find the door halfway open and, despite the fact, Elise gave the door two light knuckle-taps.

  “Yeah?” a voice shortly replied from behind the door.

  “It’s…, “Elise hesitated, attempting to form a proper introduction. “It’s Elise, I’m…”

  “I know who you are, come on in,” the voice said as the door was kicked open, allowing sunlight to fill the old dirty room.

  “Mr. Henry…right?” Elise asked, attempting to be polite as she reached a hand out to the man who looked somewhat disheveled and drunken.

  Mr. Henry had a red, sunburned face and was probably in the autumn years of his forties. A short beard extended to rogue patches along his rough face with dark brown eyes that gleamed in the shadows but were barely visible upon his constantly squinting face.

  “Good to meet you,” Mr. Henry replied as he squeezed her hand a bit more tightly than she had anticipated. “Seen you about—haven’t had the pleasure.”

  Mr. Henry kicked the door shut with his foot as he sat in an old rocking chair, a half-empty bottle of vodka sitting next to him.

  “Too sunny for my tastes,” Mr. Henry said as he reached into the front pocket of his overalls. “Have you ever seen a magic trick?”

  “A few,” Elise replied, remembering back to a show her mother had taken her to see a few years back. An illusionist had come to town and performed many sights that she had not seen before. “Long ago…”

  Mr. Henry pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket, the design on the packaging all but faded and the cards themselves rat-eared and stained. He pulled out a single card, the ace of spades, and held it in his hand. With one swift sleight-of-hand motion he made the card disappear. He then reached over to Elise’s ear and, with a twitch of the wrist, retrieved the card, pulling it back into existence.

  “I’ve seen that one before,” Elise said, smiling politely. “Do you know any others?”

  “No,” Mr. Henry replied shortly as he snorted and slid the card back in the deck and then placed them back into his overalls. He then reached down and took a straight drink of vodka, his face straining as he swallowed the burning liquid. “What do you want, anyway?”

  “Grandmother asked me to tell you that the roof in the attic is leaking water into the fourth-floor hallway. She is very adamant about it being fixed and warned that you would be out of a job if it was not,” Elise repeated in the best way that she could.

  “What are you going to do for me?” Mr. Henry asked, a sickened look crossing over his face.

  “What do you mean?” Elise asked, confused. She backed away a few steps, fearing that something bad was about to happen, although she was unsure as to what circumstances would befall her.

  “What are you going to do—to motivate me to fix that leak of yours,” Mr. Henry added as he eyed her. “How old are you now?”

  “Fourteen,” Elise quickly responded as she backed away a few steps more but found herself ensnared by the door and the foot that rested firmly upon it.

  “Lift up your dress,” Mr. Henry demanded as he reached over to his workbench and pulled a rusty old knife from the assorted tools upon the table.

  “Please,” Elise whispered, her eyes growing large in terror at the sight of the blade. “Please do not do this.”

  “You think I give a shit if I am fired from this job? I’ll kill you and everyone in Red Manor— now do as I say. I would hate to ruin such a pretty face,” Mr. Henry said as he kicked his foot against the door violently; causing Elise to shudder in fear. “Now lift up your dress.”

  “I won’t be asking again.”

  Elise’s hands trembled as she reached down to her knees and slowly, scared, began to pull up her dress, revealing her panties to the man who stared at her as though she was nothing more than a dog. Her mind could not comprehend how someone could be so terrible, so inhuman. She wondered if grandmother had sent her here as some form of punishment. Truly grandmother knew the nature of this man—how could anyone not see the evil within him?

  “That’s a good girl,” Mr. Henry said as he reached a hand down into his pants and began moving and moaning loudly. “Take down your panties—and don’t hide your face.”

  Elise, tears streaming down from her eyes, did what she was told.

  “Good…,” Mr. Henry said, staring at her sickeningly as he let out moans of pleasure until he was finally finished. He wiped the contents of his hand against the side of his overalls and released his foot from the door.

  It seemed like forever had passed as Elise collected her panties from the dirty floor and covered herself up. She reached for the door, tears still streaming down from her green eyes.

  Mr. Henry slammed his foot against the door once more as though he was toying with her. “Say anything to anyone and I will do so much worse to you next time.”

  “I won’t…,” Elise said, shaken. “I promise just let me leave and I won’t say anything.”

  “Good,” Mr. Henry said as he reached down to the vodka bottle and took another swig. “Go and tell that old bitch I’ll have her attic leak fixed later today.”

  “I will.”

  Mr. Henry released his foothold upon the door and allowed Elise to leave. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Once she reached the gravel pathway she wiped away any sign of sadness from her face and mustered up all of her strength to appear normal. However, the truth was that she felt as far from normal as the Earth from the Sun. She felt dirty, awkward, and disgusted. These feelings soon gave rise to a great anger, anger at her new home at Red Manor, anger at her grandmother for sending her on the errand. Her mother would never have allowed such a thing to happen, for Elise to be placed in such terrible circumstances.

  Elise finds herself lying in the hallway, the lantern still aglow in the dark and sitting beside her as though it was placed there instead of having been dropped. She had worried that she would lose the light during the passing of the memory. The memory was not a kind one; however, it was at least relevant to her current situation. The sound of the dripping water was gone and the water that once filled the hallway was also gone as well. Once more Elise was left with nothing but the deafening silence and the sound of her own heartbeat—a sound which she hates more than anything.

  Elise gathered up her energy once more, prepared for what lay ahead. She glanced at the old wooden door that grandmother was behind, singing that terrible song about that terrible man Mr. Henry. She let out a sharp kick against the door.

  “You Stupid Old Bitch!” Elise shouts, drawing upon the traumatizing memory and borrowing a phrase from the repulsive Mr. Henry.

  To Elise’s surprise, the door flies open upon the force of her kick, revealing a dimly lit room. Elise cautiously gets back to her feet, lantern in hand, peeking into grandmother’s old room. A small electric lamp on a bedside table illuminates the room, though its shade is the color of dirt and dust, causing the red walls of the room to appear blotchy. Elise passes into the room, each footfall muted to prevent grandmother knowing that she is approaching.

  As she crosses the dresser she sees the bed and the shadowy figure resting upon it, shriveled and curled into a fetal position. The figure is c
overed in thick black fog, an ever-changing mass, but the form is definitely human.

  “Grandmother?” Elise asks.

  “Child, is that you?” grandmother replies feebly. Her voice is ragged and the black form of her reaches out as though she has gone blind.

  “It is…,” Elise begins; confused at the sight and condition that grandmother is in. “It’s me, Elise.”

  “Why have you returned here?”

  “I don’t know,” Elise says as shakes her head; she takes grandmothers hand, setting aside the anger inside her heart for a moment. “Do you know why I am here?”

  “You should not be here,” grandmother replies.

  “Why did you send me into that…,” Elise begins, and then fumbles with her words once more. The memory is still too fresh in her mind for her to speak clearly. “That place. To see that man…”

  “I did not know he was as such,” grandmother says sadly, her voice sounding dry and pained as though she has been without water.

  “You had no idea?”

  “I did not, I promise,” grandmother answers. “He fixed the leak that day, and I paid him his wages. He took what I gave him and ferried to the city where he set out to meet with his whores, however, when he returned—Red Manor had other plans for him. Didn’t it?”

  “Plans, what do you mean?”

  “So thirsty, child,” grandmother replies as she points a shadowy finger toward a glass of water sitting upon the other end table.

  “Of course,” Elise says as she walks over and fetches the glass of water, giving it to the ghostlike form of her grandmother. She watches as the shadow drinks the liquid, letting out a heavy sigh of contentment like the first breath air to a prisoner.

  “I am, though, of course,” grandmother says as she rolls back into her fetal position. “A stupid old bitch…I always have been.”

  “You did not know any better,” Elise says as she places a hand upon the cold form. “I forgive you.”

  “Do not be so quick to forgive,” grandmother adds.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let an old woman rest,” grandmother says as she attempts to cover herself up with an old grey blanket, in spots stained deep-red and moth-eaten and ragged. “I will not resist you further.”

  “What do I do next?” Elise asks.

  “Whatever Red Manor wants of you,” grandmother says as she lets out a yawn that sounds more like the ragged breath of a dying woman. “That’s how it has always been, has it not?”

  “I cannot remember.”

  “You will in time.”

  Elise begins to walk away as the smoldering black form of her grandmother snores noisily. There is still so much that she does not understand, yet she figures she will find no more answers here, not at this juncture.

  She carefully closes the door behind her as she carries her lantern into the dark hall once more. She continues on past a small closet and a spare guestroom before she finally reaches the Spiral Staircase. She attempts to jockey her lantern into a position so that she may see the floors beneath but the black cloud of fog persists on the floor beneath her, obstructing her view.

  Elise takes in a deep breath, unsure of what to expect next from Red Manor. She attempts to piece together her grandmother’s meaning of “Whatever Red Manor wants of you,” by remembering back to her second memory—“As it protects you from the outside world, remember it is your job to do the same.” These fragments, mixed in with the macabre warning that “Red Manor had something waiting for him,” all clutter her mind like cobwebs in an attic. Grandmother has always spoken of Red Manor as it was more of an entity, a sentient being, than just a house. She wonders if this has any purpose to her return. There is something, some reason for Elise being back here. She just wishes that she could discover this reason, or why it she has forgotten it in the first place. At least that would be a place to start to unravel this strange riddle that she has found herself a part of.

  Lantern held out before her as though it was some ward to protect her from evil, Elise reached her free hand down to the railing which felt as cold as ice and burns her hand causing her to quickly release her grip.

  “Won’t be doing that again,” Elise says aloud as she attempts to navigate the steps that echo and groan with each footfall. She reaches the third floor and attempts to look down its long hallway. Elise holds the lantern high above her, attempting to overcome the black mist that hangs in the air. Just as her lantern reaches its apex, a greater, much brighter light looms over her shoulder. Unlike before, she did not hear this presence approach. She feels its coldness against her back and knows that she has little time to prepare herself for Another Memory as the light flashes dazzlingly and evaporates everything in its radius.

  Elise awoke to a loud commotion coming from outside of her curtained window. She carefully pushed her mother’s brown quilt aside and ran toward the window, tossing aside the long curtain and releasing a torrent of dust into the air. Elise let out a short cough as the room filled with the light of the grey morning sky.

  From the fourth floor window she could make out a small crowd gathered down a short distance from the gravel pathway. Curious of all the much-ado, she tossed on her summer dress and rushed into the hallway. The tin bucket that was outside her grandmother’s door had disappeared and the leak had been fixed just as Mr. Henry had said it would. Although the thought of that disgusting man and what he forced her to do left her feeling angry once more. She had not confronted her grandmother, instead keeping her anger to herself and only allowing it to show as she cried into her pillow as she attempted to sleep, hoping it would wash the memory from her mind. It did not.

  She circled down the spiral staircase, her hand running over its smooth surface so that by the time she reached the bottom her palm was warm from the friction.

  “’Lisey,” Mrs. Alice said from the kitchen as Elise passed into the atrium and jumped into her boots. “Is that you?”

  “I’m going to see what’s going on outside,” Elise answered as she pushed her way outdoors.

  “Wait!” Mrs. Alice shouted as she gave chase.

  Elise ran a short distance past the gravel walkway before she came upon the scene of a man impaled upon a large metal beam that had been used prior to tie up horses. The metal pierced him from his anus all the way up and emerged from his mouth, leaving a messy blood trail from its blunted top.

  “What is she doing here!” grandmother demanded as she squint her eyes and shook her head in dismay at Mrs. Alice. “I had given strict instruction that she be kept indoors.”

  “It was my fault,” Elise said. She stepped away from the small group of men who all looked away or down toward the ground, their hats held against their chests.

  “This is not for your eyes, child,” grandmother said as she stood in the way, blocking Elise from seeing anything further of the grisly display. “Mrs. Alice, take her inside immediately.”

  Mrs. Alice averted her eyes from the bloody scene as she placed her hands upon Elise’s shoulder and guided her back toward the house.

  “I am sorry, Mrs. Alice,” Elise said, deeply regretful. The gruesome image of the man impaled upon the beam had permanently burned itself into her mind. “I did not mean to get you into trouble.”

  “It was my fault,” Mrs. Alice muttered, her wide face for the first time not showing any signs of happiness.

  “Who was that…that man?” Elise asked, although as soon as the question crossed the threshold of her lips she already felt that she knew the answer that was to come.

  “It was Mr. Henry,” Mrs. Alice said as she shook her head and put her hand to her heart and made a gesture she had seen religious people do a few times in the past. “…the handyman.”

  “What happened to him?” Elise asked, her mind still fixated on the impossibility of his position on the pole. It seemed like something that would take great force, or many people to accomplish. It bothered her a little how all right she felt with all of this. Especially once s
he discovered that it was Mr. Henry.

  “Nobody knows. Thomas, the man who feeds the goats in the morning, discovered him like that,” Mrs. Alice said as she looked vacantly toward the doorway of the house. Through the frosted glass she could barely make out the small crowd that was gathered around the large wagon hitching post.

  “I talked to him only yesterday,” Elise whispered in a monotone. Part of her felt as though the man deserved his fate, disgusting as it was. To be put on display, naked—penetrated so violently.

  “Let’s not dwell on him any longer,” Mrs. Alice said as she looked back to Elise and found the courage to put on a smile once more.

  “Have you ever had apple pie for breakfast?” Mrs. Alice asked as she guided Elise with her hands into the kitchen and shut the door behind them.

  “Never,” Elise replied with a smile.

  “Let’s have some, then,” Mrs. Alice said as she cut slices of the apple pie and placed them on two plates, setting one out for Elise on the kitchen counter.

  “Should we not take breakfast in the dining room?” Elise asked, remembering that grandmother liked things to be proper and formal.

  “This time will be our little secret, ’Lisey,” Mrs. Alice said as she handed Elise a spoon. “Lord knows they got enough to attend to that they won’t be botherin‘ us over some pie in the kitchen.”

  As Elise finished her pie she looked over toward the large picture window at the end of the kitchen. A heavy rain started to fall, streaking over the glass and distorting the world outside in wonderful and strange ways. Elise intently watched the rain as it beat upon the window; she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat for a moment as the sound reminded her of her heartbeat.

  Mrs. Alice looked to the window and shook her head once more. “They sure aren’t gonna catch a break today, are they?”

  “How do you reckon one gets done like that?” Elise asked as the sight filled her mind once more.

  “I reckon I do not wish to know,” Mrs. Alice said as she placed a hand to Elise’s shoulder. “I would put it out of your mind if I were you. Let them handle it. Think no further upon it—it will only bring trouble if you do not let it go.”