In a town with no name, on a hill long past due, the Addams Mansion claims its dominion over death, its solemn shadow under a sadistic summer sun, cast long upon the grieving grass. A tall, twisted home of aged wood and cobwebs, the Addams Mansion is testament of an undying family of an unique bond. But all is not well with the clan that is Addams, as there is a sorrow unlike that which would be embraced, and a burden of loss, yet not of death which would be welcomed.
Within the rustic rooms of this eccentric collection of haunted halls and bizarre trinkets, a fragmented family sulks in the day room of this dreadful dwelling. On his throne, the lord of lunacy, Gomez Addams, in his smoking jacket and slippers, slouches without majesty, burning through cigars. His tired gaze crawls across the dust and lion pelt rug, toward a slender seductress of sin. A lady of love and longing, Morticia Addams is lost in the apparition of a budding rose among her bed of sticks and thorns. The bud, no bigger than a coin, contrasts in screams against the morbid palette of the mansion.
Morticia sighs and the bud opens slightly. A drop of depression, a silent tear, rolls from the enigmatic eye.
"Bubala." Morticia whispers across the floor.
Gomez puffs his cigar with little enthusiasm for the vice, as he turns in his chair toward Morticia.
"Yes, my dear?" Gomez speaks in a haze of smoke.
"I miss the children." Morticia picks up a pair of rusted scissors, and brings the blades to the base of the bud.
Gomez puffs as he speaks, "What can we do? They grow up so fast."
Morticia closes the scissor blades slightly,"I just never thought it'd happen to us."
"And what is that, dear?" Gomez says as he tosses the cigar end carelessly toward a smoldering pile of tobacco. Gomez takes a fresh cigar from his smoking jacket, never bothering to admire the aroma, as he lights it with a match and three tranquil puffs.
"Wednesday is still being tortured by the CIA." Morticia reminds Gomez.
Gomez chuckles, "She loves that waterboarding."
Morticia remembers, "Pugsly, oh, poor Pugsly."
Gomez lowers his eyes, "A fate worst than death."
Morticia sniffles, "How could he?"
Gomez, feeling morose Morticia melt on him, stands from his chair, approaching her with a trail of smoke in his wake.
Morticia lowers the scissors as Gomez puts his hands on her night clad waist.
Gomez whispers in her ear, "He chose white picket fences and puppies in suburbia, not us."
Morticia faces Gomez, "We could have convinced him or-"
"Morticia, my love, my soul, as natural as a hearse to the graveyard, Pugsly found his way."
Morticia weeps into Gomez's chest, his arms accepting her pain.
"Not to cry, my dear." Gomez says in comforting chords, "We Addams, we are who we are."
Morticia looks deep into Gomez grim gaze, "We are who we are."
With that, Morticia turns to the budding rose, picking up the instrument of its destruction, and snipping the bud at the base. The bud rolls beside Morticia's boot.
A blood-chilling scream resonates from within the halls of the mansion; the home's doorbell. The scream beckons Gomez's attention in curiosity.
"Odd." Gomez says, "That doorbell hasn't rang in a decade. Lurch!"
"Gomez, please." Morticia begins, "Lurch is no longer with us, remember?"
Gomez puffs on his cigar to find it no longer smokes, using a magically manifested match to light the end. Gomez ponders the possibilities, "Tax collectors?"
"In the dungeon." Morticia replies.
"Of course!" Gomez declares with a smack to his forehead by palm, "My new model probably arrived."
"Model?" Morticia inquires, "As in train model? I thought you abandoned those."
"How could I detonate with such disarray?" Gomez responds, "Every time I blew up a train, I'd remember our family gatherings. The explosions! The calamity! The body parts! Yet, I feel something will change. The Addams family is not yet finished!"
The screaming doorbell demands attention. Gomez takes Morticia's pallid hand, the cigar firm in his mouth, wafting smoke, as he guides her down a maze of corridors toward the entrance. The front door of the mansion, once a sturdy wooden gate, now a weave of webs and desolate dust. Gomez and Morticia hesitate to open the portal to the outside realm.
The doorbell screams. Gomez smokes.
"Aren't you going to answer?" Morticia asks.
"Yes, I'm just admiring the fresh cobwebs." Gomez replies with uncertainty.
Morticia smiles at Gomez, "A patron of the natural arts all of the sudden?"
Suddenly, a familiar voice, broken and deep, seductive and sinister, calls from beyond the door.
"Mother? Father?" the voice begs for attention.
Morticia looks at Gomez in disbelief, "That sounded like..."
Without further hesitation, Gomez lunges for the door handle, ignoring the cigar falling from his gaping mouth. He throws open the door to a flood of unwanted, eye abusive light, to the sight of a beloved demon.
A slender, suave, handsome man in a white suit and black, pinstripe shirt, Pubert Addams, smiles at the Addams couple, his Gomez style mustache curving with his lip. Pubert, the Addams family youngest son, holds his arms out to welcome the unconditional embrace.
Gomez rushes into Pubert's arms, nearly tackling Pubert with excitement. Pubert and Gomez laugh as they embrace and exchange friendly remarks.
Morticia stands as a statue with threads of mascara ran tears descending from her stare.
"Pubert!" Gomez exclaims, "I thought you were dead! We thought you were dead."
"Wishful thinking, father, but not incorrect," Pubert explains, "I did die and was buried. An accident at the train yard."
Pubert lowers his shirt collar to reveal the stitches and scar which holds Pubert's head on his body.
"Always wanted to try decapitation." Gomez says, "It's supposed to relieve migraines."
Pubert chuckles as he looks toward Morticia.
"Mother?" Pubert calls to her, "You look dreadful."
To that, Morticia breaks a tearful smile at Pubert, saying in a cracking voice, "Welcome home, son."
Pubert ascends the sickly steps into the maniacal mansion, Gomez at his side with a fresh cigar between his smiling lips, and embraces his mother with the love of resurrection, kissing her on her wet cheek.
Storm clouds gather once again over the hill upon which the Addams Mansion stands, drowning out the joys and laughter of summer, smothering the sun. A terrible wind kicks up, storming dust into devil swirls in the air, leaves running for shelter. Thunder rumbles from the heavens and shakes the earth, the rage of God calling out warning to the natural order of life; the Addams family is reuniting once again.
"And my liver's in a jar!" Pubert declares with a suave chuckle, reclined in Gomez's chair. Gomez, on the love seat beside the shocked queen, he erupts in a smoke infused laughter. Morticia smiles at the madness now cursing the house, for it is now a home once again.
Gomez puffs his cigar and lets the smoke bellow with his words, "We searched for you everywhere, Pubert. We called the mortuaries, the shelters, the shamans. No one knew where you were!"
Pubert smiles warmly, now holding a cracked glass of ancient liquor, "I was in an awful place. Terribly fun."
"And what were you doing in a train yard?" Morticia inquires.
Pubert swirls his glass and drinks, "I've always loved father's trains. Imagine the real thing."
Gomez gets giddy in his seat, as a child on sugar, "Of course! Legitimate locomotives!"
Morticia chuckles slightly, as a cough in her lovely throat, "I've not seen your father so..."
"I live, Morticia!" Gomez shoots out of his seat as a bullet of ash and smoke, "My old, decrepit heart, it beats with the Addams black blood."
Gomez takes Morticia's cold hand, pulling her onto her feet, and places her palm against his racing heart. Morticia feels the excitement.
Gomez turns to Pubert, "What black magick brought you back? I must know!"
Pubert finishes his drink and smiles with malice, "Oh, an evil place by a lake of souls."
"Sounds beautiful." Morticia comments, her hand now under Gomez' jacket, feeling his hot chest.
"What is the name of this paradise?" Gomez asks, knowing the answer will only ignite his creeping curiosity.
Pubert leans forward in his seat, tossing the glass haplessly into a now roaring fireplace, the flames screaming in agony, and whispers so to bring his parents closer, "It's a special place. Called Silent Hill."