"A Gothic Expose: With a Twist"
By: Brett Light
It was once upon a midnight dreary.or something like that. You know how these kinds of things get started. Well, as I said, once upon this midnight dreary, I found myself a precarious prospector of purest evil. Of course, I never meant to defile myself with such a debacle, but yet again, it IS a story. A quite interesting one at that.
It started innocently enough. I received a letter from my distant uncle Draco, who was a count in a great castle, far, far away from here. It stated that my aunt had passed away, and that I was set up to retain quite a large inheritance. Figuring that there were some jollies in it for me, I packed up my bags and headed for my uncles country. Of course, it was a rather strange country. You might've heard of it, you know. But we'll get into that later.
For now, I guess I should explain a bit about myself. The name is Schneider. Reindhardt Schneider, to be exact. I'm a bit of a poor peddler in Southern France. It's a bum job, bleak and weary, weak and dreary, etcetera, etcetera. So of COURSE I was all for the idea of money. Free money is even better. So, armed with nothing but the clothes on my back (Not to degrade them-For a 19th century peddler, I'm quite the snappy dresser) and some food (I'm particularly fond of roast beef-It has this way of fixing you up, you know?) I set off. Little did I know that what had started as a quest to exploit elderly people for money would turn into something.evil. Heh heh.
Well, we'll rejoin my journey around the time I reach my uncle's castle. It was quite the creepy place. Nestled on top of a high cliff, it was typical spooky castle stuff. Bats, cobwebs, dramatic lightning, the whole gig. Of course, it was in a state of utter disrepair. Aren't they all, though?
As I approached the gate, a rather pleasant sprinkle of rain began to fall. It was delightful-after so much traveling, a man gets a little dried out, you know. Happy with the rain, but not wanting to get soaked, I threw my red traveler's cape over my face and ran up the hill. About halfway up, though, I tripped and fell. In retrospect, looking back at what had tripped me might've been the stupidest thing I could've possibly done.
Lying there on the ground, dirty and spinning, was a human skull. It was in a severe state of decay, and seemed to have rolled out of the random spooky shed off to the right. Of course, I; being the impeccably brave idiot I am, decided to check it out. Big mistake. If I was a little creeped out then, the bejeezus had been completely scared out of me when I went to take a look.
The entire shed was filled with corpses. All of them were in various states of decay. It was rather sickening, actually. Some were clothed, some were falling apart, some were just bouncing around in pieces.not exactly the prettiest sight in the world. Now, in a rapid change, I threw my cape back over my head and ran like a sissy.
Sure, it scared me a bit. But it was easy to tell that my dear old uncle had some serious skeletons in his closet, anyway. I mean, normal people don't live in spooky castles. Duh. So, I tried to remember my ever so honorable purpose. "Loot and pillage.loot and pillage." I kept telling myself, as I approached the gate and pulled the bell.
Of course, in classic creepy horror cliché at it's best, the gate screeched open by itself. "Wonderful." I thought to myself, as I walked through the gate and approached the front door. I grabbed its great brass doorknob and gave it a push. It wouldn't open, so I grabbed the bell and gave it a quick tug. Not much to my surprise, the door swung open on it's own. Not one to be daunted, though, I walked inside. What I saw was far more than I expected.
I had entered a rather large, open hall. It was dark and dank, lit only by several low-burning torches in brackets upon the wall. The crimson carpeting seemed ancient and moldy, and the entire room had a sweet, musty smell to it. Looking around, I noticed that the only path I could take was down a rather grand hallway, which led up to a large staircase. The hall seemed interesting, to say the least. Filled with paintings and suits of armor, the dingy corridor seemed to beckon me towards it. Heeding its request, I set off down the hall.
As I took my little stroll, I admired the artwork littering the walls. Most of them seemed to be antique; paintings of people who appeared to be the former masters and mistresses of this gothic junkyard. Upon seeing a strange picture near the halfway point, I stopped to chuckle. The man in the picture was wearing a silly silver and brown trenchcoat, which accented his waist-length silvery hair. He was holding an old sword, but instead of leaving an imposing figure, he reminded me of a clown past his prime. Still snickering, I bent down to examine the label, figuring the silly blokes name might be worth a chuckle.but as I did, I felt an icy hand on my shoulder. Instinctively, I just about jumped out of my pants. I can't be brave all the time, you know.
So I stood there for a minute or so, scared to death; when I realized that whoever poked me hadn't actually SAID anything yet. Curious, yet too scared to get a good look, I threw my cape halfway over my head and took a peek. What I saw was bone-chillingly.well.uh.weird.
A man stood before me. He had an unusual figure, very tall and lanky.and skinny as a bone! He was like a living skeleton! The thin and tattered purple and black suit he wore clung to his skin like it was glued on, and he was deathly pale. Altogether, he was probably the single creepiest thing I'd ever set my eyes on. Not wanting to make myself look any stupider, thought; I straightened up and extended my hand in greeting. He shook it.
"Uhh.my name is Reindhardt." I stammered. "Sorry bout that screaming thing.you scared me a little bit." He bristled and let go of my hand.
"It's as much as I could've expected from a Frenchman." he said. I gave him a shrewd look as he introduced himself as Jacovian Nacalius Skimmington, but said that people simply called him Jack. I could see why he'd like to be called that, but judging him off of looks alone (I'm French. What'd you expect? Wui!) I dubbed him "Skellington."
He explained that he was the butler in this old castle, and that he was sent to collect me, before sending me to see my uncle. He grabbed me by the arm and led me up the stairwell to a large, red oak door. He told me that my uncle was waiting inside, but being the rather straightforward person that he seemed to be, he shoved me inside and locked the door without giving me any lick of knowledge as to how I was supposed to FIND my dear old uncle. It seemed that he'd simply locked me in a very empty library for the fun of it. I understood, and didn't get angry. I mean, you'd be a bit desperate for a laugh if you were him, too.
So I set off to explore the library. It was dreary and old, just like every other scary library in every other scary story you've ever read. Honestly, I hope you didn't expect too much creativity on my part. Well, being the clichéd horror eficianado I am, I began searching for something that was horribly out of place. Things like that always seem to "Open up the secret chambers" or something like that. You know, like how the fireplace poker that's miles away from a fireplace always seems to open up a secret door. So, I began my search.
Eventually, I came to a particularly strange bookshelf. It had a statue next to it, which was like a super flashy neon sign. Honestly, people who live in spooky castles need to learn to hide their secret switches better. Taking a look at the statue, I saw it was the bust of a man. He had slicked back hair, and rather dead eyes. I took a look at the name plate, which read "Jan Sauer." Jackpot, I thought. I picked it up and took a good look at it, before I saw a shiny red button on the bottom of it. Bingo!
"Well, Mr. Sauer..you might look cool, but you're the worst secret switch ever." I said, as I pressed the button. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have pressed it. But it was a shiny red button! YOU try finding a random shiny button and not pressing it! Blasphemy! I spit at your aunties, or something.
I should've expected what happened next. The entire gigantic bookshelf swung open, leading to a large, open corridor. There was a singular door at the end. I set off, but remembering this castles penchant for scaring the crap out of me, I threw my cape over my head, and ran down the hallway like a sissy. Again. (Cut me a break, ok? I AM French.) What I saw was so gut-wrenchingly horrifying, so awfully hideous, so abysmally terrifying.that you're going to have to wait until the next chapter to find out! Hah! You thought I'd spoil important details at the END of a chapter? Infidel!
End Chapter 1.
By: Brett Light
It was once upon a midnight dreary.or something like that. You know how these kinds of things get started. Well, as I said, once upon this midnight dreary, I found myself a precarious prospector of purest evil. Of course, I never meant to defile myself with such a debacle, but yet again, it IS a story. A quite interesting one at that.
It started innocently enough. I received a letter from my distant uncle Draco, who was a count in a great castle, far, far away from here. It stated that my aunt had passed away, and that I was set up to retain quite a large inheritance. Figuring that there were some jollies in it for me, I packed up my bags and headed for my uncles country. Of course, it was a rather strange country. You might've heard of it, you know. But we'll get into that later.
For now, I guess I should explain a bit about myself. The name is Schneider. Reindhardt Schneider, to be exact. I'm a bit of a poor peddler in Southern France. It's a bum job, bleak and weary, weak and dreary, etcetera, etcetera. So of COURSE I was all for the idea of money. Free money is even better. So, armed with nothing but the clothes on my back (Not to degrade them-For a 19th century peddler, I'm quite the snappy dresser) and some food (I'm particularly fond of roast beef-It has this way of fixing you up, you know?) I set off. Little did I know that what had started as a quest to exploit elderly people for money would turn into something.evil. Heh heh.
Well, we'll rejoin my journey around the time I reach my uncle's castle. It was quite the creepy place. Nestled on top of a high cliff, it was typical spooky castle stuff. Bats, cobwebs, dramatic lightning, the whole gig. Of course, it was in a state of utter disrepair. Aren't they all, though?
As I approached the gate, a rather pleasant sprinkle of rain began to fall. It was delightful-after so much traveling, a man gets a little dried out, you know. Happy with the rain, but not wanting to get soaked, I threw my red traveler's cape over my face and ran up the hill. About halfway up, though, I tripped and fell. In retrospect, looking back at what had tripped me might've been the stupidest thing I could've possibly done.
Lying there on the ground, dirty and spinning, was a human skull. It was in a severe state of decay, and seemed to have rolled out of the random spooky shed off to the right. Of course, I; being the impeccably brave idiot I am, decided to check it out. Big mistake. If I was a little creeped out then, the bejeezus had been completely scared out of me when I went to take a look.
The entire shed was filled with corpses. All of them were in various states of decay. It was rather sickening, actually. Some were clothed, some were falling apart, some were just bouncing around in pieces.not exactly the prettiest sight in the world. Now, in a rapid change, I threw my cape back over my head and ran like a sissy.
Sure, it scared me a bit. But it was easy to tell that my dear old uncle had some serious skeletons in his closet, anyway. I mean, normal people don't live in spooky castles. Duh. So, I tried to remember my ever so honorable purpose. "Loot and pillage.loot and pillage." I kept telling myself, as I approached the gate and pulled the bell.
Of course, in classic creepy horror cliché at it's best, the gate screeched open by itself. "Wonderful." I thought to myself, as I walked through the gate and approached the front door. I grabbed its great brass doorknob and gave it a push. It wouldn't open, so I grabbed the bell and gave it a quick tug. Not much to my surprise, the door swung open on it's own. Not one to be daunted, though, I walked inside. What I saw was far more than I expected.
I had entered a rather large, open hall. It was dark and dank, lit only by several low-burning torches in brackets upon the wall. The crimson carpeting seemed ancient and moldy, and the entire room had a sweet, musty smell to it. Looking around, I noticed that the only path I could take was down a rather grand hallway, which led up to a large staircase. The hall seemed interesting, to say the least. Filled with paintings and suits of armor, the dingy corridor seemed to beckon me towards it. Heeding its request, I set off down the hall.
As I took my little stroll, I admired the artwork littering the walls. Most of them seemed to be antique; paintings of people who appeared to be the former masters and mistresses of this gothic junkyard. Upon seeing a strange picture near the halfway point, I stopped to chuckle. The man in the picture was wearing a silly silver and brown trenchcoat, which accented his waist-length silvery hair. He was holding an old sword, but instead of leaving an imposing figure, he reminded me of a clown past his prime. Still snickering, I bent down to examine the label, figuring the silly blokes name might be worth a chuckle.but as I did, I felt an icy hand on my shoulder. Instinctively, I just about jumped out of my pants. I can't be brave all the time, you know.
So I stood there for a minute or so, scared to death; when I realized that whoever poked me hadn't actually SAID anything yet. Curious, yet too scared to get a good look, I threw my cape halfway over my head and took a peek. What I saw was bone-chillingly.well.uh.weird.
A man stood before me. He had an unusual figure, very tall and lanky.and skinny as a bone! He was like a living skeleton! The thin and tattered purple and black suit he wore clung to his skin like it was glued on, and he was deathly pale. Altogether, he was probably the single creepiest thing I'd ever set my eyes on. Not wanting to make myself look any stupider, thought; I straightened up and extended my hand in greeting. He shook it.
"Uhh.my name is Reindhardt." I stammered. "Sorry bout that screaming thing.you scared me a little bit." He bristled and let go of my hand.
"It's as much as I could've expected from a Frenchman." he said. I gave him a shrewd look as he introduced himself as Jacovian Nacalius Skimmington, but said that people simply called him Jack. I could see why he'd like to be called that, but judging him off of looks alone (I'm French. What'd you expect? Wui!) I dubbed him "Skellington."
He explained that he was the butler in this old castle, and that he was sent to collect me, before sending me to see my uncle. He grabbed me by the arm and led me up the stairwell to a large, red oak door. He told me that my uncle was waiting inside, but being the rather straightforward person that he seemed to be, he shoved me inside and locked the door without giving me any lick of knowledge as to how I was supposed to FIND my dear old uncle. It seemed that he'd simply locked me in a very empty library for the fun of it. I understood, and didn't get angry. I mean, you'd be a bit desperate for a laugh if you were him, too.
So I set off to explore the library. It was dreary and old, just like every other scary library in every other scary story you've ever read. Honestly, I hope you didn't expect too much creativity on my part. Well, being the clichéd horror eficianado I am, I began searching for something that was horribly out of place. Things like that always seem to "Open up the secret chambers" or something like that. You know, like how the fireplace poker that's miles away from a fireplace always seems to open up a secret door. So, I began my search.
Eventually, I came to a particularly strange bookshelf. It had a statue next to it, which was like a super flashy neon sign. Honestly, people who live in spooky castles need to learn to hide their secret switches better. Taking a look at the statue, I saw it was the bust of a man. He had slicked back hair, and rather dead eyes. I took a look at the name plate, which read "Jan Sauer." Jackpot, I thought. I picked it up and took a good look at it, before I saw a shiny red button on the bottom of it. Bingo!
"Well, Mr. Sauer..you might look cool, but you're the worst secret switch ever." I said, as I pressed the button. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have pressed it. But it was a shiny red button! YOU try finding a random shiny button and not pressing it! Blasphemy! I spit at your aunties, or something.
I should've expected what happened next. The entire gigantic bookshelf swung open, leading to a large, open corridor. There was a singular door at the end. I set off, but remembering this castles penchant for scaring the crap out of me, I threw my cape over my head, and ran down the hallway like a sissy. Again. (Cut me a break, ok? I AM French.) What I saw was so gut-wrenchingly horrifying, so awfully hideous, so abysmally terrifying.that you're going to have to wait until the next chapter to find out! Hah! You thought I'd spoil important details at the END of a chapter? Infidel!
End Chapter 1.