The Boole Reservoir

Photo by Yann Allegre on Unsplash

Part I

The Boole Reservoir stretched across a lush woodland that supported three villages on the outskirts of a snow-capped mountain.

Hikers climbed to the summit to look over the vast vicinity enclosed by a great forest and quenched their thirst with the ice-cold water flowing down to the reservoir.

What the locals knew, but outsiders did not, was the legends that circulated in this godforsaken place shrouded in mystery. This was why the locals never set out into the woods after sunset and warned their children to return home before dusk.

They believed that a lonely spirit roamed this reservoir blanketed in crushing ice. She dwelled in the ominous body of water and lured unfortunate souls to their ill-fated demise.

She preferred unsuspecting children it was believed, and she took her sweet time to gobble them up alive, relishing in their tender flesh and screams for their mother.

But this was only a made-up tale to scare miniature humans. The truth was much more sinister and unsettling.

Like many similar legends passed down from generation to generation, the myth about the lonely spirit haunting The Boole Reservoir was based on a real story – a story long forgotten in the bygones.

And whatever the truth was back in those days, it had now become a faint memory. Like everything else in this mundane life with no purpose, the truth dispersed and only the made-up parts remained as a distant token of its existence.

I first heard about the reservoir and the stories surrounding it through a good friend of mine, Mark Ryder. He and his family were from one of the nearby villages the reservoir provided clean water.

Mark and I both studied mechanical engineering in our early twenties but didn’t become close until the last semester. He was somewhat of a recluse back then and hardly spoke a word unless he was required to.

He said most of the villages in that area were now ghost towns and that only a handful of people remained, most of which were too old to move or too stubborn to leave everything behind and start anew somewhere else.

I asked him why and that was when he told me about the rumours and myths surrounding that place. And to be honest, these rumours failed to deter me from taking an interest in the reservoir – on the contrary, they piqued my interest.

I was a city boy, all right, and grew up as an only child. My parents were both workaholics, so I never set off to the countryside like the majority of my peers.

Growing up, I always imagined myself leading a dull but peaceful life in the country, taking in the pitch-black night sky and watching the twinkling stars too shy to show their head in the city.

Besides, the only thing I was remotely afraid of was the darkness. But not the one that came with the darkening welkin. I’m not sure how to put this into words: like when the temperature plummets without warning during a hike and distorts your thoughts, that kind of creeping darkness that comes out of nowhere is what chills me to the bone.

I led a normal life up until that point in my life, but I didn’t have anything to look forward to. It was the same routine day in and day out. Like a robot without its own will, I slaved through each day without a purpose and goal in life.

It wasn’t that I did not enjoy my life. That wasn’t it! I met my partner, Ann, during work and loved every single moment I spent with her. We had the same taste in music, enjoyed fishing during winter, and even came from the same background.

But something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was; I only knew that my breath became more and more laboured with each passing day.

It’s silly, I know, but these are the reasons I did what I did next. I shouldn’t have, I…

Why couldn’t I just be satisfied with my mundane life and lead a normal life? The answer eludes me, perhaps you’ll figure out the reason by the time this story ends.

Part II

One evening, as we were heading home from the gym, sweaty and exhausted beyond words, I asked Mark something I now regret deeply – I asked if he could show me it. The Boole Reservoir.

Mark didn’t want to at first and droned on about how dangerous it was, but I insisted and he threw in the towel on one condition: he was not coming with me.

I didn’t mind as long as he provided me with a solid address, and he did. I told Ann that I was travelling for work and that it would be hard to reach me. Mark promised, albeit reluctantly, he wouldn’t breathe a word about my whereabouts to Ann should she ask.

Unlike me, she was superstitious and a real hippie gal. I knew she would talk me out of going to the reservoir if I told her. So I packed my stuff – two days’ worth of clothes and whatnot – and set off on my journey in the dead of night.

I worked part-time as a deliveryman on the weekends so driving in the dark was not enough to scare me. But as soon as I approached my destination and turned left into a roadway obscured by trees on either side, I slowed the car down a notch and decided to be safe rather than sorry.

It was pitch-black: no streetlamps, no nothing. I was essentially on my way into the depths of a forested vicinity, and there were no signs of life anywhere.

I hit the brakes and lurched forwards. The roadway came to a sudden end and my car tipped over the edge of an embarkment.

My eyes shifted towards the dark and blank body of water in front of me, and I quickly put the car into reverse and barely managed to move it away from the edge.

I glanced at the GPS before turning off the engine and realised belatedly that I had reached my destination. Visibly shocked by the near-death experience, I hesitated for a few seconds before stepping out.

It was the seventh of August and the weather was chilly, but not to the point where I needed to wear two layers of clothes or a beanie.

I let the doors stay unlocked and closed in on the embarkment. Had I not slowed the pace earlier, I would’ve plunged right into the reservoir and drowned to death.

The strangest part, however, was the fact that the GPS did not say anything. Not a single peep, whatsoever. It usually did, mind, when I neared my destination, but it didn’t breathe a single word this time.

It wasn’t on mute just a few minutes ago when I turned left and continued down the shadow-shrouded roadway. Something did not add up at all, but I didn’t know what to make of these strange occurrences.

I wasn’t superstitious like Ann or as easily frightened as Mark to believe the rumours about this place. But now I wasn’t so sure… I just escaped death by a margin and was still trying to recollect myself and think straight.

I observed the babbling reservoir the entire time, perhaps to make sure I was alone and the rumours were nothing but made-up fairytales.

It did the trick.

My heart calmed down a tad and I drew a deep breath when nothing out of the ordinary happened for the next five minutes.

I fished up my Canon from my backpack in the trunk and captured the serene reservoir to prove to Mark that the rumours about this place were nothing but a hoax. “Look,” I wanted to say when I returned home, “nothing happened to me.”

But the quality was off due to the ridiculous darkness that only seemed to deepen the longer I stayed here. Since I had enough food for two days, I decided to spend the night here and then capture the reservoir in the morning hours instead.

It became colder than I anticipated as the night deepened though, so I placed a chequered quilt over my shoulders, which I had forgotten in the trunk from my and Ann’s last outing a few days ago.

I slept soundly for the most part. I did wake up a few times, slightly confused as to where I was, but then fell right back into dreamland.

But what woke me up? I’m not really sure, to be honest. I thought I heard a faint din come through from the outside, right next to me and on the other side of the window, but when I turned my head towards the din no one was there.

At first, I brushed it off as part of my lively imagination and the biting cold, but then it happened two, three, and all of a sudden six or more times throughout the night. Ignoring it became increasingly difficult.

I spent the last two hours before sunset fully awake and did not allow myself to fall asleep again. These things bothered me so much that I decided to send a message to Mark. I told him to hit me up as soon as he saw my message first thing in the morning.

What I expected would strengthen my disbelief in the supernatural turned out to have the exact opposite effect on me. I just wanted it to be morning and then get the heck out of this place for good.

That was when someone banged on the window. I turned my head to the left, in a daze, and the phone slipped through my fingers.

An elderly man in his seventies stood outside my car and kept banging on the window with his fist.

Purple and brown-grey spots covered his bald scalp where strands of whitish hair hang loosely. He wore a patched-up shirt, a brown vest from the fifties and berry-coloured, striped trousers from god-knows-when.

The stranger slouched forwards and seemed to have a difficult time standing up straight. I rolled the window down, and as soon as I did that, he seized my throat with both of his hands and held me in a chokehold.

I fought him off and rolled the window back up. It was harder than it looked from the outside. The man, despite his old age, was as strong as someone in the height of his youth, and it took a great deal of strength to push him away just enough to roll the window up.

He bared his rotten teeth and hissed like a snake from beyond the window, then he calmed down within a heartbeat and looked around himself before whispering something I couldn’t read from his chapped lips mixed with thick saliva.

I followed him until he disappeared into the woodland and then gasped for air, unaware that I held my breath up until that point. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, ditched my plan to capture the reservoir and did a total U-turn.

For good reasons, I was confused but not to the point where I would hallucinate things. But the harder I hit the gas, the longer the roadway became. It felt like I was going in circles and all roads led to the starting point.

I hit the brakes halfway through the vicinity and reached down for my phone, swearing under my breath repeatedly in the meantime.

Although I nudged something under the seat, it was too far away for me to reach without having to physically step out and get hold of it through the passenger seat.

I glanced at the rear-view mirror, made sure I was all alone and then stepped out.

When I finally found my phone, I noticed it was dripping wet and no longer functioning. I touched under the seat again but it was as dry as could be, and I had not drunk anything inside the car so that could hardly explain why my phone became drenched. Besides, it was dry just moments before that old man started to act like a freak.

Still out in the dark, I tried in vain to revive my phone. For a few minutes, I forgot about the old man and why I was in such a hurry to get out of there.

This would end up being my biggest mistake.

As if by magic or with the help of the Devil Himself, the driver’s door slammed shut and locked me out.

The car key was, of course, inside.

I tried to force the door open, but it did not budge. Several minutes passed like this. When I realised there was nothing I could do, I kicked the wheels and swore out loud. I had just fucked up really badly and was frustrated as hell.

Now I stood there, in the middle of a godforsaken roadway with a useless phone, and my only option was to advance down the lane and hitchhike – if I were lucky.

I strode towards the end of the roadway, determined to get the heck out of this place no matter the cost or consequence when I came to the realisation that I indeed went in circles. I hadn’t hallucinated or lost my mind. Not yet.

There was a logical explanation for this occurrence, and it had less to do with the supernatural than the natural. I was so preoccupied with trying to get the hell out of this place that I missed how close I was to the reservoir at some point along the roadway since it ran almost parallel to it.

The blank body of water was still and the current non-existent, so the roadway was reflected off the surface so clearly that I was seeing a mirror image of the roadway this entire time.

Apparently, there was a two-way fork and the reflection I saw made it look like there was only one path, perhaps due to the dim lightning. This other pathway kept leading back to the embarkment.

I ventured to the left this time and, lo-and-behold, I was back on the highway. It was still too early in the morning hours for cars to pass by, but I knew which direction I had come from and figured it was best to carry on than stay put this close to the reservoir.

I recalled passing by a guesthouse and decided to hit up Mark when I arrived there instead of hitchhiking in some stranger’s car. Again, better safe than sorry.

Time and again, tirelessly, I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me in the shadows.

Fifteen minutes later, I reached the guesthouse sign written on a wooden plank on the highway and turned left. Another five minutes passed in the dark like this and I finally reached the two-floor building.

A doorbell gave away my presence as I stepped into the warmth and ambled to the reception in front of me.

This place looked much smaller than from the outside. There was a single winding staircase to the right of the reception, while the entire right side was riddled with old-fashioned settees, ottomans and whatnot. It was as if I had slipped into a time slip and gone back to the seventies.

The atmosphere left a bitter taste in my throat and this sinking feeling worsened as I approached the clerk, who showed up from a cracked door beyond the counter.

The clerk, a middle-aged man from the look of it, sniffed as I closed in and eyed me down. He didn’t look or act surprised despite how dripping wet I was from the downpour outside.

I figured he had seen his fair share of peculiar guests coming in, just like me, and seeking solace in the only place close enough to the reservoir to reach on foot.

He pulled his cowboy hat down a tad and then rested his arms on the counter.

“Your car brok’ down, ye?”

“No, I…” I didn’t know what to say, so I changed the subject. “I’m sorry, can I use the phone? It won’t take long…”

The clerk squinted and leaned forwards. I could tell that he didn’t buy my excuse but still pushed the analogue phone over and let me phone Mark.

As if to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull his legs, the clerk observed me intently as I dialled Mark’s phone number and eagerly waited to hear his familiar voice in this unfamiliar place.

I kept my eyes fixated between the counter and the beat-down floorboards, swearing under my breath as no one answered the phone. Unbeknownst and as time ticked by, I clenched my jaw and grew impatient. Come on, Mark! Answer the damn phone!

But the line was dead.

I excused myself again and was about to dial Ann when I stopped midway and hesitated. She didn’t know about my little adventure and god forbid she should ever know I lied to her! I raised my eyes without meaning to and locked eyes with the clerk.

“You want me to tell you when?”

“I’m sorry?”

He pointed at the phone.

“Do you want me to tell you when your friend calls back? You can stay here until he does. I got an empty room—”

“No… no, that won’t be necessary. Uhm, do you perhaps know where I can get help, sir?”

“Oh, you wanna fix your car, ye?”

I nodded. The last thing I wanted was to return to the reservoir on my own. Besides, I did not have enough cash on me to pay for my stay here, either.

Moreover, Mark had a habit of not answering phone calls from unknown callers, and even if he eventually figured I was the one who called him, it would take far many hours for him to notice this than I wanted to stay here – this close to the reservoir, that is.

“Where it at? That car of yours.”

I gestured in the general direction of the reservoir and he knew way before I opened my mouth where I had been. I could tell right away. Something in his eyes changed – something that made him shudder.

He grabbed his beard and fell into a solemn silence. He wasn’t going to help me. I could almost hear his thoughts: “You brought this upon yourself.”

The clerk was one of the locals and he knew something wicked lay there, in the dark body of water surrounded by towering trees and dense thickets.

I stepped back, dejected, then turned my back to the reception and twisted the doorknob. The doorbell rang again. I barely stepped a foot outside, when the clerk asked a question I did not know the answer to.

“What were you thinking goin’ there, son?”

I stepped out.

There was no point in responding to the man. I was doomed either way. The door never slammed shut behind me, though. The clerk followed me outside and grabbed my shoulder, demanding to hear what made me come here and seal my own fate.

“Speak if you have a mouth! Why? Why did you come here!”

“Will you help me, sir, if I tell you the reason?” I briefly looked away. “Do you… do you think you can help me in that case?” The clerk averted my gaze and I broke into a bitter smirk. “See, you can’t answer—”

I never finished my sentence.

The clerk shoved something in my hand, tugged me closer and whispered.

“Get away from here and never look back. Do you understand? Never… look back.”

I knitted my brows and stared down. A car key? With my heart in my mouth, I raised my eyes to ask the stranger why he was giving me this but ended up watching him return to the guesthouse instead.

My eyes shifted to the only vehicle in the otherwise vacant parking lot. Without wasting more time, I rushed forwards and unlocked the car.

The inside smelled just like I imagined it would, like rubbery leather and people as old as the hills. I didn’t know why the clerk gave me his car keys and helped me, but I was forever grateful to him.

I started the motor and hit the road.

My heart raced out of control. All of this felt like a dream. A bad dream I was now waking up from.

I was going back home! I was safe from whatever lurked in the shadows and lay in wait! Tears of joy welled up in my eyes and trickled down my face.

I let out a cry, then another. Crying and laughing at the same time, unable to contain the mixed emotions taking control over every fibre of my being.

I was miserable.

But still alive…

A wide grin curled up on my dry, pallid lips as I drove through the bustling city and drew a deep breath.

Everything slowed down – even my tears.

Then it all became blurry. The city lights faded away and plunged everything into darkness.

I looked behind me through the rear-view mirror.

Before I knew it, I hit something and lurched forwards. My skull broke in half as I smashed my head on the steering wheel and a gush of blood washed over my face and obscured my view.

I blinked. Repeatedly.

Someone banged on the car window. I raised my half-open eyes covered in crimson and rolled the window down. Slowly. It required all my strength.

The old man did not attack me. He pointed to the left, across the windshield, and to something right in front of me. I never managed to twist my neck and take a look at whatever it was, although its presence was so strong that I felt its icy gaze on me with every fibre of my body.

My Ford tipped over the embarkment and the reservoir swallowed me into the depths.

This place, I never left it. That elderly man wasn't out to get me after all, he was trying to warn me…

Gate of Hell – Part V [Final Part]

Photo by Gabriel on Unsplash

“They’re looking at us,” whispered Tom through gritted teeth as low as he could.

Edmund cast a look around the shadowy darkness where the faceless people watched their every move and didn’t tear their hollow eyes from them.

Why were they staring at them like that? It was so creepy. Had they done or said something, he’d understand at the very least, but those things just… watched.

“Hey, Edmund!”

“What is it now?”

They were halfway across a rickety bridge as dark as coal when Tom brought his attention to something he hadn’t noticed before. Then again, it wasn’t so strange he missed seeing and hearing it.

The wailing spirits in the crimson river screamed their heads off and tried to drown out all the other noises. Thousands, perhaps millions and billions of people, cramped in the bloody river and flowed to the current of macabre tunes.

“Look over there! Look!”

Edmund followed the boy’s gaze to the distance. There, through the pitch-black darkness blanketed in walls of fiery fire and drowned out by harrowing screams, a peculiar train emerged.

“What in the whole world…?”

“Do you know what that is? Edmund?”

“No, I…” Edmund briefly looked away. A thought dawned on him, one that he thought he had long since forgotten. He sought Tom’s eyes. “It’s… it’s that train!”

“What are you talking about?” Tom said in a hushed tone, acutely aware of the faceless people drawing closer now that they were reaching the other side of the bridge.

“It’s that train that took my mum with it! I- I’m sure!”

“I don’t understand. Edmund? You said she died giving birth to you. Hey! Edmund!”

Edmund averted his eyes. Thousands of questions spun in his dire mind and disturbed his thoughts. What was that train doing here? Here, in the abode of the damned!

Could it really be…?

Those nightmares of his mother screaming for help, could those really be real after all? But what if he was mistaken?

He… he had to investigate and find out the truth! But this was easier said than done. Had he come here all alone, he wouldn’t bat an eye and follow the train to wherever it went. But he promised Tom that he’d bring them both home.

“Tom, the thing is… I have these dreams, nightmares if you will, that I’ve had ever since we moved here…”

“Nightmares? What kinda nightmares?”

“That train… I keep seeing it. And then I’d hear my mum’s voice calling my name. I… I think she needs help.”

“How do you know it’s her, though?”

“Who else would it be?”

Tom cocked his head. “I dunno, the Devil Himself, maybe? Since we’re in Hell and all that circus – literally.”

“Why would the Devil lure me to Hell? I’m just a kid!”

Tom shrugged. “How would I know? You’re the one who hears and sees weird stuff. Allegedly.”

“You think I’m making all this up!”

“No, that’s not what I—”

Edmund raised his voice. “Look around you, Tom! Do you really think I’m some kinda weirdo, who- who makes up stuff just for the sake of it?”

“Geez! Keep your voice down, dude!”

“You know what? I shouldn’t have told you to come with me!”

“Edmund, for crying out loud! Keep your—”

They both turned in the direction of the booming voice.

“Humans…?”

Tom grabbed Edmund’s arm and hid behind him as the menacing cross between a demon and a werewolf approached. With its black fur and red eyes, it brought the suffocating darkness with it towards them.

“W- what’s that thing?” Tom whispered.

“How would I know?”

Tom was about to snap back at him when the hybrid creature beat him to it.

“Speak! Both of you! How did you get in here?”

Edmund wet his lips. “We… we…”

“Speak or I’ll cut your tongue!”

“We- we got in through that- that portal, sir! The one inside the shipwreck!” Tom chimed in as politely as he could, although anyone could see as clear as day that this thing was anything but a gentleman. It was a brute in its purest form.

“Shipwreck?” the demonic creature repeated. “What shipwreck?”

Tom was about to reply, but Edmund beat took over.

“Where’s- where’s my mum? I keep hearing her voice ever since we moved to Gaddon Township. She’s gotta be here!”

Tom watched with his mouth gaping wide. What had happened to the kid who was so antsy that he couldn’t even form sentences a second ago? But the brute didn’t seem to mind his dare-devil question.

“Gaddon Township, you say?” The creature looked away as if it was pondering something before looking around itself with two lines etched between its thick brows.

“Too many prying eyes here. You two, follow me.”

As soon as they crossed the bridge and followed the hybrid creature, the faceless people retreated to their shadowy hideouts and kept at bay.

Tom leaned in. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if—”

“We’re here,” the hybrid demon stopped dead so suddenly that they almost stumbled into it. “You two stay put and don’t go off anywhere, all right? Nod if you understand.”

They nodded in unison and watched the demonic creature enter what looked like a mighty building in the midst of the fiery pit surrounded by scorching magma.

“Okay, let’s make a break for it before it returns!”

Edmund, “It told us to stay put and don’t move, remember?”

“We don’t even know what that thing is! And you’re seriously gonna do as it says?”

“Well, do you have a better idea then, Mr know-it-all?”

“If you must ask, yes!”

Edmund knitted his brows, trying to figure out whether the blond boy was pulling his legs or being serious.

“Yes…?”

“Yes!”

“Y-es?”

“Yes!”

“So? You’re not gonna tell me what this ‘yes’ is all about or what?”

Tom flashed a proud smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Well, then? Go on…”

“See over there?” Edmund followed the boy’s finger to a group of people setting themselves on fire. “Those people, do you see them?”

“What about them?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Well, can’t you see what they’re doing?”

Edmund took another look at the strange crowd screaming their heads off while they turned themselves into liquid time and again.

“I don’t get what I’m supposed to see here. They’re literally setting themselves on fire, that’s all!”

“Not those people, dumb-ass!”

Edmund’s eyes became narrower.

When he finally spotted them, the faceless people, he couldn’t help but knit his brows and seek Tom’s eyes as wide as the absent moon.

“Can you please tell me what’s going through that head of yours? ‘Cause I’m lost!”

“They keep following us, don’t you see? It’s like… it’s like they want to tell us something! But as soon as that creature shows up, they just poof! disappear!”

“You ever thought they might want to hurt us, and not that demonic thing?”

“But they didn’t!”

Edmund couldn’t deny this. The faceless people did indeed have all the chances in the world to attack them. Even back when they were in the woods, instead of hurting them then and there, they let them pass without doing anything.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t hurt us later on…”

“Well, I’ll cast my vote for those faceless things. What do you say?”

He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Tom had a point, but something about those hollow eyes bothered him in ways no words could capture.

At the same time, he couldn’t fully trust that brute, either.

“Edmund? Please…!”

“All right. But how are we going to communicate with them?”

Tom shrugged. “I’m not sure…”

“But you’ve got an idea I hope?”

“Well, I thought that kid could lend us a hand.”

“Kid?” Edmund looked at the faceless people again. “What kid?”

“Oh, she’s not one of them… Honestly, I don’t think she’s a demon, either.”

“Who on earth are you talking about?”

“The one on that train! The girl with the sleek, long hair!”

“The tra—that train?”

“Hmm!”

“But we don’t even know where that train went off to!”

Tom stepped aside. Now that he no longer obscured the view, he noticed that the train parked only a few steps away from the gigantic building in front of them. Moreover, the undead passengers were all getting off.

Lo-and-behold! Tom was right. There was indeed a girl not much older than them departing the train among the sea of undead. With her sleek hair, fair complexion and white gown, she looked more like a fallen angel rather than a sinner sent to Hell.

“Hey, Tom! Hold on a sec!”

But the blond guy sprinted towards the passengers before Edmund finished his sentence. When he finally caught up to his new friend and the peculiar girl, they were already on great terms and laughing hard.

Did those two know one another?

He couldn’t tell even if they did. But it sure did look that way – so much so that a strange feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as soon as he noticed how their smiling faces turned expressionless as he closed in.

Was that girl really inside the train? Now that he thought it over, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He didn’t see her inside the train. And as far as he was concerned, she didn’t actually depart the train either, she just… she just was there all along and pretended to join the crowd of undead.

But that wasn’t all. The way Tom stared at him… It was so weird.

Now he recalled why the other kids back at Gaddon Township told him not to play with the blond guy. There was something strange about the way he stared at people.

It was almost as if he tried to pierce through their souls and read their minds with his sinister eyes.

He stumbled backwards without really knowing why.

“Hey, is everything okay Edmund?”

A subtle smirk played on the girl's mouth as Tom reached out to him with a concerned look on his face. Edmund pushed his hand away as gently as he could, afraid that the other would catch onto him.

“I’m… I’m doing okay. Don’t worry.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something…”

This time, the girl wasn’t even trying to hide the wolfish grin on her face. He grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him away so that the girl couldn’t hear them.

“Do you… know that girl? Tom, you gotta be honest.”

Tom stared down at his feet. Edmund was right.

“Actually… I do know her.”

“H- how do you know her? Tom, look at me! How do you—”

A wicked grin crept on his face. Edmund stepped away, startled more than anything, as he tried to digest what he was seeing.

But as soon as he took a step back and tried to make a break for it, Tom snatched his arm with such speed and strength that Edmund couldn’t break free. This, he thought, was not a human being.

“Hey, Edmund, isn’t it?”

He glanced at the approaching girl.

“Who—what are you people?”

“Do you believe in fairytales, Edmund… Keyes?”

Tom, “You better do! ‘Cause you’re about to join one!”

“W- what are you—”

The steel gates swung open and the demonic creature exited the towering building. When it caught sight of them, its round eyes focused on Tom before shifting to the girl. Before he knew it, the demonic creature leapt forwards and paid his respects to them.

“My Lord, forgive this poor slave who failed to recognise your grace!”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Get up! How many times am I gonna tell you not to call me that in front of other people?”

“Forgive—”

“Enough already! You’re making our guest uncomfortable!”

The girl, “You just had to come and disturb the fun! We were just getting to the fun part!”

Confused beyond anything, Edmund observed the strange conversation going on, trying to make sense of how and when things got out of hand.

Tom dismissed the demonic being with a swift move and cleared his throat.

“You asked me why I believed in the Gospels, right?”

Edmund couldn’t even nod his head.

“But let me ask you one thing before I give you a reply. After all, nothing in this world is for free.”

“I…”

The girl, “Just answer yes or no, stupid human!”

“You stay out of this, Mary. I’ve got this.”

She dropped her head. “Yes, brother.”

Edmund briefly averted his gaze upon hearing the name of the peculiar girl.

Mary…?

Mary as in—he looked up.

“Mary Magdalena. You’re right, Edmund.” Tom paused before adding, smiling wide as if bemused by a sudden thought taking over his mind. “I thought you didn’t believe in the Gospels… but seems like you know more than you let on.”

“I…I…”

“You, what? You seriously thought the Gospels were a made-up fairytale? Come on, Edmund! You can do better than that!” He paused again, taking his sweet time and teasing. “You know who I am, don’t you? I bet you do…”

“You’re… you’re…”

“There you go. Come on, you can say it. Loud and clear, so everybody can hear. Say. My. Name.”

“You’re…”

“Yes! Who am I, Edmund? Come on, say it already!”

Edmund dropped his head with a peal of laughter, turning bright red and wiping the tears of joy away all at the same time.

Tom and his sister exchanged perplexed looks fraught with horror upon observing his maniacal laughter.

“If you so will, I’ll call you by your birth name, Lucifer…. my son.”

Tom and Mary fell on their knees, pleading with him for mercy, as did the demonic creature that observed them in the corner.

“What did I say about luring humans into Hell?”

“It won’t happen again, Lord! Forgive me—”

“And you, Mary, being punished for making foolish humans think you’re the Voice of God wasn’t enough?”

“Forgive me, Father! Forgive this poor spirit and grace her with your divine—”

“And here I was thinking my creations were going wild when it was your doing all along. But I gotta admit, son, opening the Gate of Hell in such a peculiar place, was a clever move indeed.”

Tom wet his lips as he took a gander at him.

“It- it won’t happen again! I- I swear, Father!”

“Since things have boiled down to this and what’s done cannot be undone, I’ve prepared something I think you’ll both like.”

Tom, “Please, Father! I- I won’t do it again! Father!”

“Neither will I! Please, Father, forgive our sins!”

Edmund turned his back to his son and daughter made of the finest fire. As he walked away, slow and deliberate, each step caused an earthquake and turned every nook and cranny into dust.

From their hideouts, the faceless people, once the youngest residents of Gaddon Township, stormed out of their hideouts and charged forwards.

Ripping Tom and Mary’s faces off and exposing their true selves, the faceless people regained their humanity one piece at a time.

When nothing was left of the two wicked siblings made of fire, and Hell no more, the angels descended to the heart of Hell and escorted the children to the only place they belonged.

Gate of Hell - Part IV

Image by kalhh from Pixabay

“Tom! Tom, wake up, already! Come on, dude! You gotta wake up before they come!”

Edmund stooped over him when he warily opened his eyes.

“What’s… what’s going on?”

“You passed out,” said Edmund before letting his eyes shift to the shadows all around them. “Can you walk? Tom! Can you walk or not?”

“Yeah, I- I think so.”

When Tom stumbled up on his feet and looked around, the last thing he expected to see was the suffocating darkness. Where in the whole world were they?

Then he recalled the mysterious shipwreck and the ablaze portal.

His eyes grew wide with terror and he was about to say something aloud when Edmund placed a finger on his lips and hushed him.

“Scchh! Be quiet!”

Tom followed the boy’s darting eyes that settled on the surrounding shadows. That was when he noticed them, too – those faceless people watching their every step.

Gulping hard, Tom whispered, “W- what are those things?”

“Don’t look at them! You never should!”

“W- why?”

Edmund took his sweet time replying, visibly pondering something before speaking his mind.

“You said you believed in that nonsense, right?”

“The Gospels?”

“Hmm! The Gospels…”

“Yeah, I do… somewhat.”

“Then, you must believe in the hereafter I suppose?”

Tom knitted his brows. “The hereafter?” He briefly looked away. “Like… Hell?”

Edmund nodded. “Yes, Hell.”

Tom cast another look around upon realising what the other meant. But how could this be? How could two humans still alive and kicking be in Hell? It made no sense!

“Listen, you asked me about my mum, remember?”

“I- I did…”

Edmund drew a deep breath before he continued. “The truth is, my mum’s been dead for the last ten years. She caught a wicked disease and passed away shortly after giving birth to me.”

“What are you trying to say? What’s that got to do with—”

“My dad said she’s in Hell because she abandoned us! He said all womenfolk who die at childbirth are bound to rot in the bottomless pit and pay for their sins.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You said you believed in the Gospels!”

“I- I do, I just don’t—”

“It’s written in the Gospels, Tom! My dad said so!”

“What’s written… exactly? I’m- I’m sorry, I’m having trouble following.”

“That with the mist, opens the Gate of Hell!”

“Gate… of Hell?”

“And we’ve found it! We really—”

“You lied to me!” Tom backed away as Edmund tried to reach out to him. “Why would you do such a thing!”

“I… I thought you wouldn’t come here if I told you the truth.”

“Yeah, you bet I wouldn’t! Are you out of your mind! Gate of Hell!?”

Edmund dropped his head. “I’m- I’m sorry. I just… I just didn’t want to come here all alone.” He looked up. “Honestly, I didn’t even think the Gospels were telling the truth. I thought it was all some made-up story…”

“What now! What were you thinking coming here? Do you even know what your mum looks like? And even if you do…”

Tom couldn’t continue upon seeing the dejected look on Edmund’s flushed face.

“You’re right,” Edmund muttered. “I don’t know what I was thinking. We… we gotta find a way out of this place.”

“Well, the portal’s gone.”

“There’s gotta be another way out.”

“And if there isn’t?”

Edmund took his time replying. “There has to be! Tom, I promise you. I’ll get us back home no matter what, okay? I promise!”

Gate of Hell – Part I

Photo by Brad Switzer on Unsplash

It was the 21st of November 1829.

The storm raged on for over two weeks without respite and blocked off all roads to Gaddon Township. No one understood why or how something like this could happen in their serene settlement, where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.

When the mist rolled in a fortnight ago and blanketed everything in patches of fog, the last thing the townspeople expected was to be trapped in profound darkness and not see the light of day for two weeks.

The crops wilted, the flowers stopped blooming, and the clear air grew thick with nauseating fumes. Children suffocated to death in their sleep, as did the livestock, the pregnant miscarried and those who tried to conceive were left infertile.

On the seventeenth night, however, the deluge finally retreated and the air cleared up. On the surface, everything went back to normal. It didn’t.

The stroke of ill fortune carried on, and before the townspeople knew, only a handful of them pulled through.

From the twenty-tree children who once resided in Gaddon Township, only two survived what the remaining townspeople now dubbed ‘The Purge’.

One of these two fortunate kids was Edmund Keyes and the other was Tom Baker.

Edmund was a year older than Tom and was the only son of broke homme d'affaires, who relocated to Gaddon Township to take flight from his debtors. The Keyes earned their living working their fingers to the bone as husbandry workers for good ol’ Nanny Ruth.

The elderly woman had never wed and was born and raised in Gaddon Township. She inherited a lot of riches from her parents when they passed away two decades ago. She was now the most well-off person in the entire settlement.

Tom, on the other hand, was the youngest of eight children, with seven of them being girls. The Bakers worked the corn fields for the other townspeople and earned a shilling or two slaving through the day.

Those two, Edmund and Tom, however, had never crossed paths before.

When the parish priest, Mr Gilbert, told everyone to meet at the churchyard the day after the storm faded, that was the first time they saw each other.

“This is a bad omen,” preached Mr Gilbert, taking a short pause to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “Goody Jon, can you please tell these good folks what you’ve told me.”

Goody Jon, an elderly man with a hunchback who miraculously survived what those in the height of their youth could not, stepped forwards.

“Aye, indeed, it is a bad omen, good folks!”

Everyone held their breaths.

“As you are aware, ever since my lovely Rae passed away, I’ve taken a walk on the shore to reminisce our dying memories. Yesterday, when the mist cleared, I found something washed ashore, good people! A shipwreck a hundred years or more old!”

“Why’s it a bad omen, then, Goody Jon? Something so harmless, at that!” someone asked.

“Fool! Don’t you know the Gospels!”

Mr Gilbert, “Please, take a seat, Goody Jon. I’ll take over from here.”

Albeit reluctant, Goody Jon returned to his seat.

“Dear friends, it seems the Judgement Day is upon us all. No, calm down good folks! There you go! Let me finish, ye?”

The commotion died as soon as it happened. The townspeople had a lot of trust in the priest and heeded his every word like they were from the Lord Himself.

“It is of utmost importance none of you goes near the shipwreck. I know it’s harder than what it sounds like. But you must stay away at all times. Is that clear? Goody Jon?”

The elderly man muttered something that sounded like something between a sneer and a swear.

“As soon as the hills of snow melt, I’ll send a word to Bishop Tomas and we’ll figure something out. Until then, no one is permitted to—”

“Aye, we get it! How many times will ya repeat?” someone interrupted. The others agreed, and yet another commotion broke out. This time, however, it took more than a few minutes for Mr Gilbert to calm down the communion and get his voice heard.

“All right, then! Good folks, listen up! Let’s conclude with a sermon and a prayer.”