The Path That Eli Wellingsworth Took (3)
We set foot into the place, and it looked as diabolical as I had remembered. Gossamer cobwebs hung liberally around the high ceiling and walls. Our steps creaked and squeaked as we pressed ever onward through the middle level. Death reigned ultimate in authority here, and had imposed its will in all that we could distinguish. The place was the very delineation of a malevolent atmosphere. An eerie silence had soon emerged between the two of us, a heaviness had fell on us. I could feel it. It was as if I was trudging underwater with an anchor fastened to my leg. With an effort, I craned a look toward Jonathan, who too seemed to be in struggle to keep his eyes open. I then spoke. "Jonathan--what's--happening?--Why is it that I am so--" Unexpectantly, Jonathan fell face down to the floor, and dust kicked up about him. I too found myself losing control of my faculties. My eyes wavered, and wavered still. I fell to my knees, and I was soon on my face asleep. I awoke with the diminutive light from the evenfall streaming in through the windows and curtains. I looked to my left and Jonathan was still soundly asleep. I groggily made my way toward him, to revive him, but all my efforts proved fruitless. Suddenly, and rather inexplicably, I was cognizant of another conscious person being in my presence. I cannot account in any way for this happening, it simply materialized. I hurriedly glanced about me and saw the contoured figure of a man standing not more than ten yards where I squatted, in the former splendor that was the dining room. He approached as I stood, and even in the faltering light I knew who it was. "Ba--Bernard!" "Yes, Eli, it is me, your iniquitous uncle Bernard," he said hoarsely and spread his arms out in showing emotion. "And I have come to offer you a choice." He then smiled, a wicked curl of thin lips on ashen face. I stood hesitantly, half expecting some hideous beast to come to my uncle's aid and drive me insane, and half expecting him to give me the honor of choosing my own death. "--What do you mean 'a choice?'" spoke I. "I mean simply this," and he came closer to me, in an effort to embrace me with an arm around my shoulder, but I shrinked away from him, and he looked on as if I had pained him in a way. "Why, Eli? Why must you hunt me so?" he spoke again hoarsely and seemed genuinely hurt. "You've never even made my aquaintance, what with you being in America all of your life. Have I done you wrong in some manner? If so, let me make amends." And again he smiled, and I looked on quizzically. "You could be of great worth to me in America, Eli. Do not abnegate yourself the honor of serving me. I implore you to denounce this nonsense and come to my side. Have you not seen the power that I wield? Would you not like to have that power yourself? It is freely available to all those who are of open mind. Now, now, do not cringe at the thought. You are part of a great bloodline. Consider it a little. I will find you again." He began ambling away from me and I--after attempting to digest all that he'd said--called out to him. "I--I will not let you get away!" "Your friend, Eli," said Bernard hoarsely, "he must needs attending to," and he said this without casting a backward glance in my direction. I turned and saw that Jonathan was on the floor, convulsing. I looked from a retreating Bernard, to Jonathan, to Bernard again, and finally attended to Jonathan. When I had resuscitated Jonathan, the both of us made it out of the manor with the quickness. Jonathan himself was nontheless very much groggy, and I had to assist him in getting back to our vehicle, the setting of the sun being in its final phases. I inquired of Jonathan on the ride back to my uncle Alfred's manor what it was that had happened, and he confessed that he himself had never experienced anything quite like that before. The weightiness of our gait, the heaviness on our eyes, even in Jonathan's case the convulsing. My uncle Bernard had--it seemed--possessed an evil power unlike any known to man. Jonathan was not the only one of us whom was disquieted however. There was something that Bernard said that was vexing me and I could not let it alone. After much back and forth, I finally intended to get some answers from someone who could perhaps supply them, someone who had been living in Manchester all his life, my uncle Alfred. Thursday, the day that Landon was scheduled to meet up with Jonathan and I, came swiftly, and the two of us awaited him in the resplendently and all encompassing living room. The maids had again supplied various foods for us to eat as we waited. My uncle Aflred, when I returned from Bernard's manor on Monday, had been away on a business trip, and so I was unable to inquire of him what I would. He was--said an attendant--scheduled to return at any minute however. Landon soon rang the resounding door bell and a maid brought him to us. I was intent on sharing the experience Jonathan and I had in Bernard Wellingsworth's manor, regardless of however Landon took it. "Ah, I see that you are present this time, and not parading around town as investigators," said Landon with a smile that took up the corners of his mouth. "We managed to trek to my uncle's manor and there is--to be sure--much that we have to share with you," said I. Landon looked a bit perplexed. "Really? So that was your vehicle near the doors of the manor? Alexi was also there, and I followed him. You haven't compromised my investigation, have you? What exactly went--" "--I think it would be best if you shared what it is that you have uncovered thus far and then we will tell our side of the story." Landon looked at me for a moment, then towards Jonathan, and it seemed like a smile was about to present itself, but it never came. "If you insist," said he. "I think I'll get right to the most telling portions, as very little of anything happened on Monday or Tuesday, really, but by Wednesday I had managed to plant surveillance equipment inside of the the community center. Not visual surveillance, however, only audio. But--" here Landon halted and considered. "I'll just let you hear it out for yourselves." Landon picked up a tape machine that was situated in a brief case and began playing. There was a silence at first, but then words began to come out, in garbled sentences, and static-like. It was odd, to say the least. I could, at certain portions, make out something of which was said, a string of sentences. From my very good memory, it went something like this: While the tape was playing my uncle Alfred entered into the living room and stood back and only listened. After a time, the tape was finished and Landon began speaking. "I don't know why the equipment I planted wasn't capable to get full transmission, but perhaps next time I'll place video material. But the gentlemen's voice was definitely that of Alexi Shostakovich, and he seemed to be making proclamations and declamations. What do you think?" "You are right that was Alexi," said I. "And now we will share our story with you." Both Jonathan and I began our story from the beginning, how that we made trekking to Bernard Wellingsworth Manor in an effort to get some insight into his evil. And how that the little girl in blue opened the door to the manor for us, and all that came about because of it. My uncle yet remained stationed in the archway that led into the living room and he seemed to be considering something. Landon's face however was one of disbelief. "My, my," he said. "That's quite the story. No wonder I don't believe any of it." "You mean to tell me," said I, "that all of this time that you have been investigating my uncle that nothing unexplainable has been taking place?" Landon was about to speak, but then drew back, as if he were reflecting on something. "I--I don't know if you could consider something as paltry as that as 'unexplainable.'" Jonathan and I looked towards Landon with interest, and I pressed him to continue. He sighed. "It's just that--every time I follow after him and whenever he gets in or out of his vehicle he--he side glances in my general direction and smiles, as if he knows where I am and what I am doing. I just chalk it up to me being not as careful as I usually am, and I am careful in my profession, careful not to be seen or discerned. I take this stuff seriously. It's boggling to be sure." Jonathan spoke. "It is because that man has aid from the netherworld," said he. "He gets his information from mischevious spirits." Landon turned towards Jonathan. "I don't believe in any of that. There has to be a rational explanation. It has bothered me, that's for sure. But I'm not so far gone in my wits to adopt such schemes." "Gentlemen, if you will excuse me," I said, while Landon implored that I not leave him alone with Jonathan, but I wished to speak with my uncle. "How--how is your investigation going?" he said. "I'm no closer to proving that Bernard still lives than I was when I first arrived here," I said. "--I see," said my uncle as he bent his head. He then raised it. "Listen, Elie, do you not think that there is some madness in all of this? Why not let him alone? I myself don't want anything to do with Bernard Wellingsworth. I've washed my hands of that man. And the sooner you come to that point in your life, the better off you'll be. I didn't mention it before, but I allowed you to take up residency here so that you could get to that point. Are you there yet, Elie? Have you seen enough of Bernard Wellingsworth?" "Alfred," said I, "I have tried to go against my calling, but I was unable to. I must confront him, and put his actions to an end. There will be more than enough rest for me when I have acheived that discontinuance." "Well," said Alfred, "if you are so set then there's nothing I can do to stop you. Perhaps you haven't seen enough of the man yet. I'll be in my study." "Wait," called out I. "There's been something upsetting me ever since I left Bernard's manor. He wanted me--to join him," and here I shuddered. "He said something about our bloodline, about it being great. I can't shake the feeling--" Alfred cut me off with a sigh. "There is--indeed--a history of Wellingsworths who dabbled in that which is of the netherworld. Bernard has taken it to another extreme, but that is more than likely what he was referencing." And so I just stood there, aghast, with my head bowed low and a heart that had retreated to the soles of my feet, realizing for the very first time that my family's history had been actively entangled in evil.
Copyright © 2007 Michael Harris |