The Caretaker - Part 1

The warm glow of the coming dusk blanketed the vast countryside.

In a rusty old pick-up truck, my uncle drove me down the winding dirt road that will take me to my new accommodations. It also happens to be where I will be working from now on. I won't bore you with the details, because frankly I barely understand them myself. To put it simply, I'm the new caretaker of a dusty old manor on the outskirts of town. My aforementioned chauffeur was the previous holder of the illustrious position, but he's getting on in his years and I was in dire need of a job. The local oni thugs offered one first, but I didn't want any of that trouble. So he brought up my name to his employers, did some talking, and now I'm here: half an hour out of town and contemplating if the romantic life of a vagrant isn't so bad after all.

It wasn't just the isolated sensation I got from being this far out that provoked those thoughts, it was the look and overall feeling of the place as it drew closer. Slightly elevated on the crest of a hill, the dark manor came into sight. It wasn't entirely dilapidated, but a brief once-over was enough to discern that it was easily twice my age. It wasn't as grand as I originally suspected it would be, but it was still substantially larger than any dwelling I've lived in. It was only right when the truck pulled into the drive-way that I got a good look at it, and I suddenly felt rather miniscule.

The shadowy form of the building contrasted sharply to the bright orange of the horizon. Though it was not so big itself, the weight of its age seemed to impress upon you and grant it the illusion of dignity and magnificence. In that way, I was entranced momentarily before my uncle brought me back to attention.

"We're here!" he yelled, presumably for the second time, before slamming the driver door and staring inward to make sure I was awake again. I nodded a curt affirmation before exiting as well, taking a brief glance around the boundless vicinity in which the manor was situated. The fields of grass surrounding the road approaching it were overgrown and impossible to see over. Otherwise, I could see nothing for miles. The whole place was very lonely, truth be told.

I cut my sight-seeing short to catch up with my uncle, who was already by the front door and unlocking it. Upon entering, I felt completely enveloped in the age of the manor. It was an off-putting, uncomfortable feeling. It was like stepping into a stranger's home, and I was, but worse, as though I could tell immediately that I was unwelcome. Though my uncle was quick to turn on the lights, every shadow they cast seemed deeper than usual. Whatever light streamed in through the windows or was put off by the lamps illuminated all the dust that floated about the air, betraying the age and neglect of the building.

As my uncle guided me throughout the manor and explained what he could not have on the drive here, I was able to see just how far the place has fallen into disrepair. Every door creaked obnoxiously. Nearly every light flickered and many did not work at all. A thick layer of dust was accrued in every room except the bedroom, lounge, bathroom, and kitchen. The roof was a sorry state, the outside needed new paint, and the fence was in shambles. Altogether, I grew less and less wary of how eager my uncle's employers were to replace him.

After an hour of explanation and idle chatter, my uncle stood with a huff.
"It looks like you're more than ready for the job," he said with approval. "I'd be lying if I said I'll miss this rickety old shack, but I'm glad to know it'll be in your hands." I saw him to the front door and waited as he fished around his pockets for the keys. Handing them to me, I could swear I saw him crack the first smile he's made all afternoon.

I watched as he exited the manor with a bounce to his step, all the way to his truck. How happy he seemed, I could not help but wonder if he had a lady-friend waiting for him. A mature kistune seemed his type. By this point it was pitch dark and I could barely see past the fence, let alone all the way to the road. So, I watched two dull red lights float away into the countryside night until they sparked out of sight. Just as I turned to reenter the manor, I felt a great wind surge forth, accompanied by the drumming of distant thunder. With a sigh, I locked up the front door and made my way to the lounge to prepare a fire. It did not truly hit me how alone I was until the torrent of rain crashed against the side of the manor.



It was now eleven o' clock and the rain has not let up. As a matter of fact, the storm seems only to have grown in magnitude so far. Constantly, the waves of relentless rain pelted against the questionable structure of the manor, punctuated by earth-shattering crashes of thunder that shook the entire residence with every strike. The power has long-since gone out and I found myself bundled up beside a roaring fire in the lounge that has become my sole source of illumination, save for a few candles I've generously spaced out between this room and the bathroom.

I never handled the dark well. To be more specific, I never handled the dark well when I'm alone. When somebody's with me, no matter who it is, I find myself invigorated with some sense of obligation to appear as fearless as possible. Whether to meet the bravery of my companion, or to compensate for the lack thereof, I was always able to do so. Now, as the light of the fire casts dancing shadows and forms against the lounge walls, I can't help but feel daunted and weak. I can see nothing beyond the doorway to this room, let alone down the hall or up the stairs. Every time I look I cannot help but see shadows against shadows, and foul faces leering at me. I know somebody like me should not have taken on a job like this, but I needed the money.

Then I heard it: a raucous, but faint crash from above. It was not thunder, but the sound of a great clamor that jolted me into complete attention; not because of its abruptness, but because I heard it from inside the manor.

It could not have been the second floor, as it would have been louder. It came from the attic. I was frozen in place for a moment as I contemplated what to make of the situation. 'Maybe,' I rationalized 'a stack of boxes or something fell over.' It seemed logical at the time, but simultaneously unlikely. I thought about maybe hiding and hoping whatever it may be, if it is something, won't find me. 'A stupid idea.' I convinced myself. Whatever it is, it remained my job as the new caretaker to investigate. It felt strange to adopt the title with such commitment, but it needed to be done.

I cycled through my memory in an attempt to recall where my uncle said he had stored the gun. Standing and flipping up the chair cushion, I found it. It was nothing more than a 9mm, but it was something.

In any case, I felt more self-confident with the firearm in my hand and was able to force myself to begin moving to the attic, albeit with extraordinary caution and with a candle in one hand. My journey down the length of the main hall was one worthy of song. No dark corner escaped my vision and no creaky floorboard went unnoticed. By the time I reached the stairs, I was so skilled in maneuvering through this blasted dark that I reached the top in record time.

At the farthest end of the second floor hall were the stairs that led to the attic. As I approached them, I was startled by a procession of loud steps from above. They sounded firm and numerous, as though several pairs of feet were scurrying about. This succeeded in preventing me from continuing my walk to the stairs for some time. Eventually though, I mustered the courage to trudge on.

Ascending the steps and approaching the door, I took a deep breath and recollected my bearings. 'Whatever is behind this door,' I told myself 'I will stand my ground.' And with an affirmative huff, I set down my light, opened the door, and entered the attic.

Darkness engulfed me. It was thicker in here than out in the night, where at least the stars and moon provided some illumination. I could hear nothing over the rain as it assaulted the roof. For a few seconds, as I inched further into the attic, I was convinced that it had all been my imagination. Then a flash of lighting filled the room.

It was only for a split second in time, but it was enough. I saw a massive form on the other side of the room. It was black, hooded, soaked in rain, and monstrous. Something vaguely humanoid seemed to sprout from the body, and perhaps in my better senses I would have acted reasonably, but at the moment I only felt confusion and terror. Instinct hijacked my body, I aimed, and fired off two rounds.