The
Evil That Lurked Behind the Walls
“Okay,
Mr. Sam Hill, if that is your real name.
Tell me again what happened last night.
I have to warn you, I think you are lying through your teeth. You have yet to convince me that you did not
kill your friends or associates in a drug induced frenzy. You did test positive for LSD, marijuana, and
lots of alcohol, and Mr. Smith of the Holliday Inn wants to press charges
against you for trashing his hotel last night.
So, you are in a heap of trouble, my friend. So, let’s start off with the truth,
okay? And since you’ve waived your
Miranda rights, let’s keep to the truth and not wait until your court appointed
lawyer can get his lazy butt down here to tell you how to lie your way out of
this one.”
“Sure,
Sergeant Murkowski. I want to tell you
the truth but it will be difficult because well, we were pretty high when we
got to the McAllister house, but what happened there was not a hallucination.
I
did not tell you initially what really happened because well, I figured you
being a small-town cop and me being a SF hipster visiting Maine on vacation
with three other Californian boys – you all would not believe a word I said and
let the drug tests convict me.”
“Okay,
Sam, let’s start at the beginning. If
your story checks out, we can consider not charging you with murder, but you
will still have to settle your accounts with the hotel owner. Okay?”
“Fine
by me. Okay, let’s start at the
beginning. My name is Sam Hill, my
companions were Jake Lee, Rick Jones, the 3rd, and Robert
Yamson. We all went to high school in
Berkeley, California and got into heavy partying then. We vowed after high school to get together
once week a year and visit a city that we had never been to for a week of wild
ass partying, lots of drugs, booze and wild women. We’ve been doing this now for 15 years. And well, we’ve had fun. Of course, all of us are still single or divorced
because it is hard to explain to a woman why you need to spend a week boozing
and chasing other women once a year with your old buddies, if you know what I
mean.
So,
we decided to spend a week in Maine and arrived in Brunswick after spending a
few days driving up and down the State looking for the proverbial party. Brunswick seemed like the place to be as it
is a college town and we all like to party with college kids and staff. So, we rented a room, scored some dope and
some acid, and met a few chicks.
Things
got a bit out of hand and the girls had a bad acid trip and we had to leave
them. During the confusion that ensued,
we kind of trashed the hotel pretty bad.
We told the owner we would pay for the damages if he did not press
charges and that we would be back in a few days to make good on our debt. He reluctantly agreed to do so. We were worried a bit about Sara and Maria,
the two girls who were kind of freaking on Acid. We finally got them calmed down by 4 am and
got them to their dorm quietly. But we
were afraid they or their parents could press charges so we decided we better
lay low for the rest of our trip.
We drove down the road and out of town and
came upon an old deserted mansion, which I know is now the Mc Alistair
place. We thought we could crash there
until the next day, then make plans for the rest of the trip.
Just
as we pulled in, an old man popped up out of nowhere. He told us that we did not want to go into
the house. He said all who go in never
come out as it is a cursed place, filled with evil spirits who worship an
ancient demon called Cthulu.
We
laughed at him – we had all read our Lovecraft and thought the old man was
having fun at the out of towners. So, we entered the mansion. It was dark, and we walked around the dusty
rooms. The house had an odd smell, and
had old decayed furniture and the stairs looked like they were rotting. Suddenly, the lights went on. The house was lit up and seemed different,
much more livable and decorated in an 19th century upper class
style. And the dust had gone.
A
man dressed in a black butler’s suit walked up and said that we were welcome to
spend the night but the master would be happy to have us for dinner in about an
hour. He showed us to our rooms.
We
got together and agreed to keep our wits about ourselves. There was something odd about the whole ordeal. The acid had worn off and we were tired and
felt like crashing but something told us to wait until the sun came up and we
could drive out to another town.
We
went into a formal dinning room and were greeted by Mr. Mc Alistair. He was a distinguished looking old man,
dressed in a tuxedo. He bid us welcome
and we all sat down. He poured us red
wine, which had a very strange taste to it, almost like blood and wine mixed
together. He told us that he always
liked to hear where his guests came from and we talked for a while. His butler came in and said dinner would be
ready. He put a covered plate on our
plate and then asked us to pick our menu choices.
The choices were:
Baked Rick,
Baby Rick Ribs,
Rick Liver in blood gravy sauce
Fried Rick Brains
We
though the guy had a morbid sense of humor, and decided to play along with
it. We asked him if he had any idea of
where our friend might be.
“Well,”
Mr. said, Mc Alistair said, “I am sure
he will show up any minute for dinner. Let’s eat.”
mouth like a baked pig. The butler removed the covering of our plates and there were various cooked
parts of Rick’s body, although as it was cooked meat it was hard to know for sure.
“My real name is
Cthulu, but you can call me, Mr. C. I am
a member of ancient race of beings that has lived among you people for
thousands of years. I feed off human
beings, but I need human servants from time to time. So, if you join me in eating your friend, I
will spare you life, but you will be my servant forever and I do mean
forever. Mr. Smith, the butler, has been
with me 10,000 years after he took me up on the offer. Well, deal or no deal?”
We backed away
from the table. Mr. McAlistar changed
shape in front of our eyes, turning into a huge octopus-like creature. He
grabbed Jake Lee, began tearing him apart, and eating him. Robert and I ran out the door. The whole house came alive and various
electrical appliances starting chasing after us and trap doors opened up left
and right. A giant snake came out of the
sky light and grabbed Robert and took him away.
And that is the
true story. I stand by it.”
“Well, Sam Hill,
I’ll let you into a little secret. We
already know what usually happens when strangers piss us off in our town. You see, we all know Mr. McAllister or Cthulu
as you call him. He almost never lets
someone get away. So now you belong to
us and him. We’ll get you a job, and a
place to live but you will never be able to leave this town. If you do, you will die because you drank of
the potion of eternal life when you drank the wine at the dinner table. So, my advice to you is relax and join us.”
John (“Jake”) Cosmos Aller is a
novelist, poet, and former Foreign Service officer having served 27 years with
the U.S. State Department in ten countries - Antigua, Barbados, Dominica,
Grenada, Korea, India, St Kitts, St Lucia, St Vincent, Spain, and Thailand. and
traveled to 45 countries during his career.
Jake has been an aspiring novelist for several years and has completed
three novels, (Giant Nazi Spiders, the Great Divorce, and Jurassic Cruise) and
is pursuing publication. He has been
writing poetry all his life and has published his poetry in electronic poetry
forums, including All Poetry, Moon Café, and Duane’s Poetree and literary
magazines. He is looking forward to
transitioning to his third career – full-time novelist and poet after
completing his second career as a Foreign Service officer, and his first career
as an educator overseas for six years upon completion of his Peace Corps
service in South Korea.
Tags:
Short Fiction