literature

Another Side of Brighton Chapter 2

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</p>“Hey, you know what would really be good to kick off freshman year with?A visit to the Mortis House," Curtis proposed, making Eirikur and Lenore halt. </p>

The House of the Mortis Family was a building out on Brauer Road to the west,with nobody to claim it but the name of the clan that once walked through it’s halls. It was a vine encrusted building with dusty red bricks painted brown by snow, with a menagerie of plants in the streak of fertile earth running through the dry dirt, copper windowpanes and a hazy chimney that had held no smoke for a century.Sallow grey tree trunks stood gnarled and ominous , the flowerbeds a host to weeds and thorn bushes indigenous to decay and rotted life, the corner of the grand, waxy white mausoleum poking from around the edge.

It was a hexagonal building,with eternally white walls like those of a chapel, whose color was not dulled by the centuries, coffins of bronze stacked neatly inside,lit by an ugly glass hole in the ceiling that was slathered in wet ropes of vine, corpulent caterpillars hanging off of them.The Mortis house held the only private fish pond as well in their county,rumored to be stocked with wonderfully large bass, panfish, perch muskellunge with gaunt snouts,and the fattest catfish, large as a man and ten times as heavy. Eirikur had once ventured into the yard and was frightened by one,a hellish,deformed behemoth of an unworldly size, slick and covered in ooze,with wide,broad whiskers that leaped onto the grass and knocked him over. Curtis and Lenore knew that when he had came back shuddering and convulsing like a madman, covered in goo,face masked with red fear,that the fish were no legend. When they were naive little middle schoolers, the accusations of black magic and ghosts evoked spectacular, fearsome tales whenever they took extensive walks past, and though the stories were dispelled by wise adults, the three took a sufficient satisfaction in continuing the weird lore.


Vincent Mortis was the final member of his bloodline, and the last person to hold the title of the estate,a man, who, by the dates etched into the parchment in the town hall, lived to only be nineteen. He had lead a life that others didn’t know about, with a madness deep as a trench that was eating away at his brain, never leaving the dull, dark four walls around him until the day he died.It was said on the day he joined the dead,that he charged forwards out of the door very much alive before sprawling out flat on the front porch, his life burning quickly as he descended into insanity, leaving only a corpse. He was buried in the mausoleum by an anonymous worker, an oval portrait hanging in the library in memorial. Though he was a handsome youth, Lenore was frightened of him, with his fair skin,dignified Huguenot face, thick brown hair, and blue eyes with a glossy shimmer, said to be painted the moment after his death. It was those eyes, which were unusually bright for a man who was expired that terrified her,and she always tried to simply not look at them, yet she was drawn to the sapphire orbs.


“NO!Are you out of your mind?!”


“Aw,come on, Tuulikki, you have to come!You can stand by the gate if you're scared.”


“Curtis!I’m still scared,and more than you!And I'm not very brave,either!It gives me the creeps! Not to mention,”


“I want to go, but I may have homework to do,” Eirikur commented, with a look of sincere honesty in his brown eyes.


“Sukkel...Alright,fine.You guys don’t know what you're missing.”


A tallow candle sent the small shadows into a rapid retreat,which Karlsen held over his head,shivering at the heavy,wet odor of it, as he looked around the foyer. The sweepingly grand room was laden with plump blankets of dust, with a staircase torn in two leading to another floor,and under that, a metal door with pure copper handles,and a feast of bludgeoned insects whose backs gleamed green all over the room He could sense the ghosts pressing up against his skin, yet no fear came to mind as he inhaled the musky scent of myrrh and spice in the bear pelt on the floor .


“Å helvete ... hvorfor?”he murmured, emptying batteries into his flashlight and turning it on to see a large spider with sleek black hair,curiously dull fangs. and eight purple, mischievous little eyes scuttle by his feet.


“Not yous...,”he groaned as the wretched creature crawled up the walls to a cobweb dusted with plump flies, and in a whimsical movement, turned into a gleeful looking Ethiopian girl. She was perhaps eighteen in physical appearance, wide in girth,and had skin black as sleek onyx and dark,curly hair tied away from her face


“Octavia Adanech …hvorfor?


“At random, Karlsen, why does that bother you? Got the computer set up, maybe get on a dating site.I met my last boyfriend on the web,you know.“


“Urghh....


“Well, feel free to spin me a yarn, why are you here?”


“Nones of your busy-ness,” he replied.”And if yous don’t vants to be splattered,yous be a good eights legs freak and shuts de Hells up!”


“So grouchy!Nothing has changed at all,Karlsen.I would be nicer if I were you, because you never know who you’ll need help from. What do you have to do anyway? Make this place livable?Anyhow,I got bored in Egypt,scaring tourists in the pyramids,so I’ve just been hanging around,and this little place caught my eye. Here, let me help you remodel this place,it hasn't gotten any better with the public tromping around looking for treasure.”


"Just gos away! I don't needs help; I just vants to be alone..."


“Please Karlsen,you’re driving me up the wall!”she cried,well amused by this,and went back to her arachnid form."I guess men can't keep house,so here,let me give you a hand... or eight.


“Do you even hear vhat I says?!I just vant to be  alone in peace!Faen ta deg” I wait a thousands years to squish yous-and...!”he stopped as he saw them, hundreds of spiders with magically glossy raven fur clamoring about her,eyes glinting with an unearthly rubicund light stretch far and tall to the ceiling.


“I never said I was going to work alone...”


---


“Alright then,here goes..everything,”Curtis said to himself, plucking an errant strand of black hair from his head and pushing on the fear engraved doors. A rancid smelling darkness that led to nothing his human eyes could perceive drove his anxiety into retreat, yet a set of preternatural senses saw him. Man was not it’s preferred meal,rather, it was venison and rabbit, but the one before him was the nearest link to the deer it could attack savagely,eating the shreds of flesh one by one.


“Eh, nothing much them,just a lot of stupid dust. Honestly,why would Lenore and Eirikur be so scared of it that they make me go here?Ik vind er geen reet aan,”he pondered, not noticing the remarkably white fog that now hung around him.”Ah great,not I’m talking to mysel-Aargh!” he shrieked as an ethereal phantom of the night tied it’s fingers around him, knowing how it would carry out his ill fated demise. He looked back to see a being with a face bare of any features, the shell of a young man with red hair and a sickly white complexion.


“W-What the heck is this?” he cried out,feeling the evil,clammy skin press deep into his ribs,the smokey fingers leaving marks reminiscent of raven black beetle shells.

"Oh hey! A new scout!"


"He's a tresspasser!Quick, Adanech, get my rifle!"


""No he's not, you dumbass!He's a scout, and you have to train him!"


“Whaaaat?!?!.....”

Curtis makes a visit to the mysterious Mortis House. Remember that name now
Comments1
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Torkuda's avatar
You have some good descptions and I'm actually interested in the spider girl from the personality she displays. Really, a story like this seems to beg for exaggerated personalities. Maybe watch Soul Eater and notice how much time is spent on personalities, even with all the exposition they give. You do have a number of grammar errors too, but I'm guessing you're skilled enough to catch those on your own. At the moment, you seem to be too brief. Trust me, writing out personalities and giving examples of how bad your baddie is, are like three quarters the fun of writing.