The skull of the black goat

" Do you really think this will help him?" The fair-haired man asked.

" It has to. We have no other options left. The boy has become too aggressive over the last few months. And it's not how he's behaving towards us that's worrying me. I don't know how to explain this. Like three weeks ago, we had just started eating dinner when I got a phone call. It was his principal. Do you know what Alfred had done?"

" What?"

" He completely destroyed his maths classroom." Mrs. Jones couldn't take it anymore. She was sitting at the kitchen table, across from Arthur Kirkland, an old friend of hers.

" He smashed the windows, wrote obscene phrases on every table with black permanent marker; he even messed up the walls and the sockets when he splashed buckets full of water on them." She slowly shook her head, muttering to herself just what in the world she had done to deserve this.

" He did it after school, before he came home."

" And he acted as always?" Kirkland asked while putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

" Yes. There was nothing suspicious about his behaviour. He was his lively, joyous self. Of course I asked him: Why did you do this? And he just said: But mom, I hate Mr. Braginski. He had it coming to him. That's it. No other explanation, nothing. There were other incidents like this and I always told him to stop acting out. But what can I do? What can I possibly do to end this? There was also this one time when he impaled a dead cat he found on the street on the fence of an elementary school, so all the little children could see it. Can you believe it? That's so sick. But I don't want to send him to a military school like his principal suggested. I will not allow for some ex-soldier to make him into a brainless robot that can only follow orders. I just want to have my Alfred back. The old Alfred. He doesn't need therapy or something like that. He's not sick. They already sent him to the school counsellor so many times, but the woman told me there's nothing wrong with him."

" And what is my role in this situation?" Kirkland looked into her eyes as he asked the question.

" I firmly believe that a few weeks with you will work wonders on Alfred. Away from society and its bad influence. What he really needs is some peace and quiet."

" Where is he right now?"

" Probably in Matthew's room playing video games." Mr. Kirkland raised his eyebrow at this.

" He seems to be quite the carefree fellow."

Mrs. Jones looked at him, anxiety written all over her face.

" If only."

She went upstairs to get her son.

Arthur Kirkland was originally from England, but his family had moved to the US when he was still a child. At 29, which was almost 8 years ago, he became the owner of a huge property in the middle of nowhere that was built in the 1700s and had belonged to a wealthy family whose last member had eventually passed away in his sleep without leaving any heirs behind. Arthur liked to be alone, far away from other people, where he could live his life in peace. He didn't really need to work for a living since he'd inherited a considerable fortune when his parents were killed in a car accident, and most of it was used to buy said property with its surrounding land only months later. Which didn't mean he wasn't as wealthy anymore. When the estate agent had asked him why he was so interested in this deserted building that so much looked like a haunted castle, he simply told the woman that he needed a little bit of isolation so he could overcome his parent's death and the sorrow that he constantly felt because of it. It was partially true. The other reason for his interest in the place was his job. Although he didn't need to work, he still liked to write stories about the supernatural, and had hence established a career as an author years ago. The whole property served as a great inspiration for his books.

" But I don't want to go!" The muffled voice of Alfred could be heard from upstairs.

" I'm sorry, Alfred, but you have to." His mother went ahead of the boy, carrying a big travelling bag in her hands. She carefully took one step after another so she wouldn't stumble. Alfred sluggishly followed behind her until he stood in the middle of the stairs and saw the stranger.

" Uh, and you are the Arthur Kirkland she told me about?" Alfred stood completely still, staring at the man, trying to remember if his mother had ever spoken about her "childhood friend" before this day. From his peripheral vision he could see his twin brother Matthew coming out of his room, quietly observing the scene.

" Yes. And you are Alfred? Has your mother already told you where we're going?" The boy nodded his head slowly and cautiously.

" Come on, lad. We have to go now if we want to get there before it's getting dark." Alfred looked like he wanted to ask another question, but he didn't say anything.

Summer holidays had just started.

The car ride was spent in silence.

" That's where you live?" Alfred stared in awe at the huge building. It was surrounded by dense forests, but someone had cut down all the trees that had been too close around it, creating a clearing of some sort. Or rather a backyard. The house was built from dark bricks and had a certain charm that was from another time. And that's exactly how Alfred felt when Mr. Kirkland's car came to a stop in the driveway and he got out to bring the blood floss back into his tired legs. He felt as though he'd just stepped into the past. It was a weird feeling. He already knew his cell phone wouldn't work here, but took it with him because all his music was on it. A huge metal fence divided the front yard from the driveway.

" I need to open it. You can go ahead and wait for me at the front door. I'll just park the car and then I will show you everything."

Kirkland took out a key and opened the fence that, as Alfred now could see, was also a gate which easily slid to the side when pulled. The opening was wide enough for two cars to drive through at the same time when pulled the whole way open. Alfred walked toward the front door while Mr. Kirkland got into his car again and drove through the now opened fence. He parked the car on the far left of the estate, on a parking lot that had enough space for five cars. Alfred didn't take the Englishman for someone who got that many visitors. But he also couldn't exactly say that he knew the man.

Kirkland was nice enough to take the boy's travelling bag out of the trunk for him, but he had to carry his stuff himself from then on. The man closed the gate again and joined him at the front door. Upon entering the house, Alfred immediately noticed how dark it had already gotten. It didn't help that most windows in the house where blocked by trees from the outside, making it almost impossible for any bit of sunshine to enter the building. Alfred was surprised again when Mr. Kirkland switched the lights on. In that instant, the teen was blinded by the burning light of a huge chandelier that hung from the ceiling, between the front door and a grand staircase opposite from it. From his spot Alfred could see a few doors that were placed at the end of the stairs on the floor above, where a hallway began horizontally. If he looked straight ahead, there were two hallways, one on the left and one on the right side of the staircase.

" Most of the rooms in this house are empty. It's too much space that I don't need. Your room will be on the first floor, just like mine. The hallways on the ground floor hold no special rooms. Feel free to look at them if you want, however, some are shut. In one room, there's a little hole in the wall where mice always find their way inside. I tried many times to close it but it just won't remain how it's supposed to. So I gave up on it. And you better stay away as well if you don't want the whole house to be occupied by mice. I put a sign on the door so you don't accidentally release them." Alfred almost laughed at the words, but stopped himself when he saw Mr. Kirkland's serious expression. So it wasn't a joke, alright. They went upstairs and the Englishman walked to the left corner of the hallway where he opened a door.

" This will be your room. Put your stuff down. I'll show you the rest, then you can do whatever you want. Almost." Alfred did as told and the two walked down the hallway to the next room.

" This is an empty guest room. There's nothing special in there. Next comes the bathroom." Kirkland opened the door so Alfred could see for himself.

" Wow." The bathroom was very big and meticulously kept, so the tiles on the floor and on the walls were practically glowing. The ones on the floor were from marble and reminded Alfred of the space and his own childhood, when he wanted to become an astronaut more than anything else in the world. In the right corner of the room was a big bathtub that had probably been there from the very beginning. The walk-in shower in the left corner was very modern and stood in a stark contrast to the luxurious tub, but looked expensive nonetheless. Next to it was a toilet, while a cabinet complete with a huge mirror stood next to the tub. But the most interesting thing about the bathroom was the painting on the ceiling. Alfred felt awestruck at the way the angels were looking down at him from above, with serene expressions on their beautiful faces. But there was something absurd about it.

" Who wants to get stared at by angels while sitting on the toilet? I mean, sure it's pretty, but aren't there any places that are better suited for something like this?"

Mr. Kirkland shook his head, quietly muttering something. Alfred could hear him say "brat" but didn't comment on it.

" Since I wasn't the one who painted this, I don't know the reason why the artist chose this specific location. I'm not religious but I find it too beautiful to just paint over it. Come on." Mr. Kirkland ignored the next room and stopped in the right corner of the hallway where two more rooms were located.

" Uh." Alfred raised his eyebrows while pointing a finger to the one next to the bathroom.

" And that's..."

" Another guest room. This here -" Kirkland said and placed a hand on the door knob " is my study. I work here and I do not wish to be disturbed at any time while I need to concentrate. The last room is my own. You can knock if you need something or if you have questions." When the man didn't say anything, Alfred thought he could go, but-

" And also it would be best for you if you could just make your own meals because I was told many times that my food isn't very edible. Although I don't know what they meant by it, I just thought I should warn you." Mr. Kirkland entered his study without saying another word.

" Goodbye, Alfred. Bye, Mr. Kirkland. So rude." The teen whispered.

Alfred used the next ten minutes to put his clothes into the only wardrobe that was in his room and that fortunately didn't reek of mould or old people. He'd switched the light on because it was quickly getting pitch dark outside. From the single window he could see the forests behind the house. He wondered if there were any wild animals living in it. Wolves maybe, or bears. Kirkland certainly wasn't the type to own a gun, and the whole land was so isolated, Alfred highly doubted there were people who came here for hunting.

The light in his room was yellowish and not very bright. It gave the room a creepy atmosphere. The floor was made of hardwood and the walls had the colour of red wine, which looked brown in this light. Alfred hadn't eaten anything for the last six hours and his stomach quickly alarmed him of his growing hunger. He took the opportunity to go downstairs and look for the kitchen so he could make himself a sandwich or something. As he was walking down the steps of the staircase he noticed the silence the whole house seemed to be engulfed in. Mr. Kirkland was probably still working at whatever it was he did. When he arrived at the ground floor, Alfred had to decide in what hallway he wanted to look for the kitchen first, and chose the left one. Most of the doors that were running along both walls were closed and the lights were flickering every now and then. There had been paintings hanging on them once upon a time, but were long since put down. Now the walls were completely empty and the colour faded.

" I feel like this one actress from the movie with the haunted castle full of ghosts, and in the end she dies." The teen quietly muttered to himself as he looked over his shoulder to see if there was really a ghost behind him, or a serial killer, or a werewolf, or-

" Way to go, Alfred. Making yourself even more afraid. Stupid, there's no such thing as ghosts that can kill you. They can't even touch you. If one shows up, you just help them reach the light, and then you're a hero. Like that actress from the TV show who can see ghosts and... stop it. Just stop it, Alfred."

He came to a stop when he reached the first door in the long hallway that wasn't closed. It was the kitchen, on the left wall. He turned on the light.

" Man, why is everything so huge in here?" He asked himself before opening every cupboard in search of food. He found a package of cereals and some milk in the fridge. Bowls were put away in one of the cupboards that were practically hanging from the ceiling, along the walls. Spoons were in another one. The baking oven stood in the middle of the kitchen, and the teen figured there had to be a dining room with a table somewhere. He left the kitchen and opened the door that was directly next to it. The room was completely empty.

" Hm, so where can I sit down to eat?" He ran a hand through his hair.

" Try the door behind you."

" Oh my god!" He spun around, almost spilling his food. It was just Mr. Kirkland.

" Scared?"

The teen quickly shook his head, feeling ashamed without knowing why.

" The dining room is under the stairs. It's this door." The Englishman explained while he opened the door across from the kitchen. It looked like a ballroom where all the wealthy people were always dancing in the classical movies, while wearing masks of some sort. The dining table looked somehow out of place. Alfred sat down and placed his bowl before him.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop around."

Mr. Kirkland just shook his head.

" No need to apologize, I was the one who forgot there were some rooms downstairs that are important to know. I am sorry."

" Can I ask you something?"

The man raised an eyebrow, nodding his head.

" What's it?"

" You said you were working in your study. What is it you're doing in there exactly?" Alfred began to eat, while looking at the man.

" I write books. That's why I need silence to concentrate. This house helps me. It also serves as inspiration for my stories."

" Cool. So you write books about the supernatural? Stories about ghosts or something?"

" Why do you think that? It's also possible that I write historical novels."

" Yes, but, you have to admit. This place looks haunted. And it totally feels like it."

That's when Mr. Kirkland started laughing. It was the first time he didn't look like a grumpy old man; instead he looked so much younger all of a sudden.

" That's exactly what a friend of mine said when he first came here. Said he felt weird vibes around him, as if someone was watching him all the time." Alfred didn't miss the sad glimmer in Kirkland's emerald green eyes as he spoke the words. But he had the feeling he shouldn't pry, so he didn't ask any further about it.

" Are you not hungry?" He asked instead.

" Not right now. But I think I will make some tea. Do you want some?" Alfred shook his head.

" I am more of a coffee person, but thank you."

Mr. Kirkland looked at him apologetically.

" I'm afraid, I don't have any." His facial expression was tense for a second, before easing up again. The teen wasn't sure if he hadn't just imagined it. " But there's a convenient store an hour away from here. I could buy some coffee for you." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but stayed quiet for a few seconds. " Yes, that's what I'll do. I need to pick up something in the town anyway, may as well stock up on food." He seemed to talk to himself, or at least it looked like it, until the man's gaze fell on Alfred.

" Enjoy your meal. I will make some tea for myself and then go back to work." A little too late because Alfred had almost finished eating. Kirkland left the room.

The teen waited a couple of minutes until he heard quiet footsteps walking up the stairs above him. He put his dishes in the dishwasher that was next to the fridge in the kitchen. The Englishman had certainly acted strange before he left. Maybe he had some sort of psychological issues. Nobody living in such isolation could stay healthy for very long. But that wasn't important right now. The teen decided to look at the other hallway to see if there was anything interesting. Two of the rooms that weren't closed were actually chambers that held a washing machine and cleaning materials. Another room was filled to the brim with cardboard boxes and dust. He wondered if there would be anything special in them. Maybe something secret. That peaked his interest and he really wanted to look through them, but then he heard Mr. Kirkland's footsteps again, and he quickly left the hallway. He wasn't sure if he was even allowed to open the boxes. What if some of the stuff belonged to the man? He would probably get angry at Alfred for looking at his private things.

" I will go to sleep now. You should as well, it's really late. Goodnight." The man had an empty cup in his hand that he wanted to put away.

" Goodnight." It was not Alfred's usual self to be this polite, but he still had manners. He just didn't need to use them very often.

The first night in his guest room he spent tossing himself from one side to the other until 2 in the morning, and shortly before he fell asleep, he could've sworn he heard hooves walking around. But if the noise came from outside, that he didn't know. Maybe there was a floor above him,or an attic. What if someone lived there? But human feet didn't sound like that. It must've been an animal. Alfred was too tired to even think. He slipped out of consciousness.

The next morning, when he left his room and was just about to close the door, he noticed a piece of paper that stuck to the wood.

I went to buy groceries. I will bring you some coffee. I'll be back in two hours. Make yourself at home.

Alfred knew exactly how he would pass the time. There was a room full of cardboard boxes waiting for him.

Most of them didn't contain anything interesting. He sat kneeling in the middle of the room, opening one after another, before pushing them aside with growing disappointment. There were things like old tableware or documents, which proved him right that it was really Mr. Kirkland's stuff. One of the boxes was filled with cookbooks. Maybe the Englishman had tried out a few of the recipes, but had grown frustrated when it didn't taste right. The man had said himself he couldn't cook. When Alfred opened the next box, he immediately noticed a person who seemed to be good friends with Mr. Kirkland, if not more. The man had fair hair that he wore tied back in a low ponytail. His clothes were fancy and he had a smug expression on his face in every photo Alfred found of him. The teen couldn't really figure out the relationship between Mr. Kirkland and the other man at first. But one photo in particular eventually gave away that the two had once been a couple. The long-haired man held one arm slung around Kirkland's waist, both smiling into the camera. The teen wondered how long ago that possibly was. Because the Englishman obviously lived alone now, and looked a little older.

" Probably spoke of his boyfriend yesterday." Alfred said to himself when he remembered the little talk they'd had the other night. He'd long since forgotten the noise of hooves walking around before he'd fallen asleep.

" I will put your coffee into this cupboard so you can just make it yourself if you want to drink some, alright?"

The Englishman had just arrived and was busy putting the groceries away. He'd come back with two paper bags, but only one of them contained food. The other lay on the kitchen counter, untouched.

" But that's no instant coffee. You don't have a coffee pad machine." Alfred argued as the other man spun around, looking at him now.

" I do have one, but it's in one of the rooms where I store all my old stuff. I didn't think I'd ever need to use it again so I just put it there. I guess it's yours now, or at least as long as you stay here."

Alfred had indeed seen the machine in one of the boxes he'd been looking through.

" I have also bought some packaged hamburgers for you. Your mother said you liked them."

" Oh yes, I love them. Thanks." The teen said as his face lit up.

Mr. Kirkland just nodded his head, wordless and without looking at him.

" I need to make a phone call. I'll see you later." He then said, and left the teen alone in the kitchen.

Alfred finished making lunch at one o'clock, and it was too much to eat all by himself so he knocked on the other's door to offer him something as well.

" I'm here." The teen could hear from the man's study. Hopefully he didn't disturb him too much. " What do you want?"

" I made lunch, but it's too much so I wanted to ask if you want something too. It's spaghetti." There was silence for a few seconds. Then the door opened. It was only now that Alfred noticed the height difference between them. The other was about an inch shorter than himself.

" Thank you."

They sat down at the dining table and began eating in awkward silence. Normally, when Alfred ate together with his family at home, he would always tell them about his day at school, and other trivial things. His twin brother on the other hand stayed quiet most of the time.

" Say..." He began after a while. " what's your book about? The one you're writing at the moment?" Mr. Kirkland was taking a sip of his tea while raising an eyebrow and looking at Alfred.

" Why do you want to know? I already told you. I write stories about the supernatural."

" Yes. But what exactly?" There was a short pause.

" The book is about a journalist who's doing research on the legend of an old castle in the woods where satanic rituals seem to have taken place. And that turns out to be true."

" Oh, well. That sounds, eh, quite interesting."

" It's not your genre, it seems."

" I mean, ghosts are one thing. But satanic stuff is a whole other level. That's occultism. I don't feel comfortable thinking about something like that." He earned a second raised eyebrow within the time span of one minute. " Excuse me for being raised in a Christian household!" He said a little too loud.

" I was too. But like I said before, I'm not religious. And the book wasn't my idea but my editor's. She was really obsessed with the subject. Don't ask me why."

" Oh. So you don't decide what you want to write about?" The were almost finished with their meal.

" Normally I do. But this time she wouldn't let it go. And I thought: why not try something different?"

They didn't see much of each other for the rest of the day. At night, when Alfred wanted to sleep, he could hear the weird sound of footsteps again, but decided to put on his headphones so he could hear music for a while to drown out the noise. It worked.

" Alfred. Alfred! Do you hear me? Wake up!" Those were the first words he heard the next morning.

" What?" He murmured drowsily.

" Did you open the room with the hole in the wall?"

The teen was slowly becoming more awake by the second.

" Huh? The room with the mice?"

Mr. Kirkland nodded his head, glaring at Alfred from the doorway, before walking up to his bed.

" I told you, you aren't allowed to open that room! Now they are everywhere!"

" But I didn't open it."

" Well, someone must have done it. I was not in that hallway for days."

The teen grimaced in anger.

" I didn't do it! I was in the hallway, Okay? I was also in the room that's filled with your old stuff and I opened the boxes. But I didn't open that room, believe me!" Kirkland sighed. He sat down on the edge of Alfred's bed while looking straight ahead, so he couldn't see the teen.

" Do you know the reason why you're here?"

" Mum said I've been pulling some pretty sick stunts. She said she can't stand it anymore and that I need to change. Some place where I can have some peace and quiet."

" But surely, you realize that -."

" The thing is, I can't remember all this!" Alfred could hear the other man gasp for breath.

" Meaning?"

" I don't remember doing any of those things."

" Your mother said you answered that your maths teacher deserved the total destruction of his classroom when she asked you why you did it."

" I- it's true that I don't like him. But he did NOT deserve it. I only said it so my mum wouldn't find out the truth, which is that I don't remember the whole thing. I don't want her to think I'm some psycho who belongs in a loony bin. I'd rather she think of me as a troublemaker than that."

" So... you have no recollection of any of those incidents, is that right?"

" Yes. But I'd like to help capture the mice nonetheless."

Alfred got out of bed, and got dressed after the other man left to bring two pairs of gloves for them both, to protect their hands. Just to be on the safe side.

They spent the whole day catching after the little mammals who were freely running around the house. Mr. Kirkland found a few of them in the kitchen, and he intended to thoroughly clean up the room afterwards. Alfred found five in the dining hall, and another three in the chamber with the washing machine.

" Why don't you just buy some traps to set up around the hole." The teen asked when he came back to the foyer with the animals put in a bucket ( alive, of course), where the other man was already waiting for him.

" It would be useless. Far too many of them. I'd have to fill the whole room with traps."

" Do you think they can walk up the stairs somehow?"

" Let's see if they can." The Englishman said while they walked upstairs. The man went straight to his room, leaving Alfred standing in the middle of the hallway. He was just about to go into his own room when he heard some rumbling from above. And apparently Kirkland heard it too because his door opened and he stuck his head out of his room.

" What was that noise?"

" Do you have an attic?" Alfred wanted to know. He wondered if the other man had heard the footsteps too the other night and the night before that. And maybe all the nights since the man lived in the house.

" Yes. But if the mice have found their way there, we have a problem. The door to the attic cannot be opened. It's been like that since I bought the property." Kirkland stepped out of his room and stood next to Alfred, both of them looking up at the ceiling.

" You never tried to pry it open or something?"

" We tried once. It didn't work." The Englishman shook his head.

" We?"

Alfred saw the other man look at him wide-eyed.

" Did I say that? We?" The teen nodded.

" I saw the pictures of you and him. He was your boyfriend?"

" Yes." It was obviously a very uncomfortable topic for the Englishman. His voice sounded strained when he spoke. So Alfred decided to make it easier for the man.

" Hey, it's alright. I have nothing against gays."

" T- that's not it. But thank you." The man averted his gaze from Alfred.

" What's it then, if I may ask?" Kirkland turned his back on the teen, saying nothing for half a minute. Then-

" He died. Fell off the roof. Which is weird, because, how could he have gotten there? The attic door doesn't open and all the windows of the first floor are too far below the roof. I found him in the morning, lying next to the pavilion. It must've happened the night before."

" You have one of those?"

" Didn't you see? It's behind the house." Alfred really hadn't looked there. He guessed there had to be many things he'd have yet to see.

" How long ago did it happen?"

" Two years, almost."

" Are you really sure he fell off from up there? What if he died because someone or something attacked him when he was outside in the middle of the night? Maybe a wild animal?" Alfred didn't know himself why he tried to question the man about his partner's death. It was none of his business.

" One of his shoes is still hanging from the roof."

And suddenly, Alfred got goosebumps all over his body. It was something in that sentence that frightened him to the core.

" Oh." He didn't know what else to say.

" You can see for yourself if you want." The Englishman's voice sounded emotionless again, his face was blank.

" Maybe later. Eh, what I wanted to say was... I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Kirkland."

" He's not the only one who died. My parents have passed away too, but that was a few years ago. You could say, I'm used to the people around me dying." Now Alfred really didn't know what to say.

" Well, if you'll excuse me. I need to look if there are mice in my study." But before the man disappeared into the room, he quietly added:" Call me Arthur."