7.

Twenty years have passed. That old Victorian house still exists. It still stands and the place is as dark as it has ever been, perhaps darker. Grass and moss have continued to grow until in some places, it died completely. It may be twenty years but still they come, still they are unable to resist and still the echoes of pain scream throughout the house only now they also echo further throughout the continually growing town than it ever had before.

Yeah, this town is a place which has spread its wings somewhat within those twenty years, and a legend, a reputation has grown too.

It is not all so often these days but come they do, especially on nights where the moon is low, full, and bright. The town itself has had enough, all the residents know but no one is willing to discuss or do anything about what it is that goes on in that house. She is still there despite having sought her revenge and he is also there, reveling in the freedom to be the monster in death with which he had become in life, the monster he has become may now exist for all time with the freedom brought by death.

Dean Samuels is no longer the man he once was. Age, despite the fact he has yet to hit his fifties, he has seriously been weakened. His body affected in ways none should, and he is not as capable of warding off the newcomers anywhere near as well as he used to be. Yeah, age and activity has taken more of a toll than what any average twenty years should.

Gwen is seen more so as being a crazy lady, a crazy lady who is obsessed with the house where her husband's life had been taken all those years ago. Even though she is still only middle aged, time has taken a toll on her too and she looks much older than what she actually is. No one ever listens to her, and no one ever takes her seriously.

That house and what it holds has definitely charged one heck of a toll.

There is a new visitor in town, a young man by the name of James Larson. He enters the town's coffee shop and orders a large latte then takes a seat at a table by the stores window. Business is quiet so an older female staff member brings him his latte.

'You are new here in town, right? Strange thing is that you look oddly familiar, have we ever met before?' she asks while placing the latte on a coaster.

'I am sure I would remember if we have ever met before and yeah you are right, I have only just arrived to town, less than an hour ago in fact' replies James.

'So, you here on business or pleasure?'

'Neither and a bit of both at the same time actually, I am here to check out that old Victorian building.'

'I would stay well away from that place if I were you; it is no place for a young man like yourself to go investigating.'

'Oh, don't worry; I am not planning on going inside. I am just looking to find out a little on the history of the place. I believe my biological parents lived there at one time or another.'

'Ah then Dean Samuels is a man you will want to talk to. He owns a maintenance and restoration garage a couple of blocks from here, though these days he is not around all that much.'

'Oh great, thank you for that, if I cannot find him there do you know of where else I may be able to find him?'

'Just ask for a lady named Gwen, if she is not at that garage then she will most likely be up by that house, but please be warned, if you do go anywhere near that house whatever you do, please do not go in, despite how much you may want to.'

'Excellent, thank you so much for that.'

'No problem young man, now you take care, you hear?'

'Yes ma'am.'

Within the coffee shop James loses himself in a daydream and when he has come out of it an hour has passed and his latte has gone cold. He had barely touched it. Before he can be asked as to if all is well, he gets up and makes his way outside. It has been snowing on this early December afternoon and a fair bit has fallen within the hour when James had been daydreaming.

He puts on a hat and gloves and makes his way off. Instead of making his way towards that garage, which is only couple of blocks away, James heads straight for that old Victorian house.

The afternoon may be a cold one, but it is a bright one. The roads are covered with a layer of mushed ice; a blanket of snow covers all other areas yet to be stepped on during the snow fall. The rusted metal gates at the front of the garden to that house rest hanging of their hinges. James jogs down the street towards the house and comes to a halt not far from those gates then he stands in awe of the building he has finally come face to face with it after discovering a few years earlier that this indeed is where his biological parents once lived.

A moment or so passes before James begins to slowly make his way up to the door leaving tracks in the snow behind him and when he reaches the door he once again stands in a moment of awe. He takes his left glove off and places his hand on the center of the door at eye level. It feels strange; it feels warm, most definitely not at all what he would have been expecting. The door may be closed but somehow it feels inviting, almost as if it is testing him, inviting him somehow.

All sound suddenly fades away and it seems as if the snow is now falling in slow motion. James is lost in this moment, he almost belongs in this moment, he does belong to this moment. A dark red liquid begins to ooze down from the top of that door. Before James can even begin to make sense of this, he hears a female voice speak from beyond those garden gates which at this point is a fair bit behind him.

'Hello there, can I help you?'

James is distracted by this voice, and he turns his head toward where it comes from. When he returns his attention to the door there no longer is any dark red liquid oozing from any part of it. He wonders for a second or two as to if he had actually seen any kind of liquid at all. The door is no longer warm; it is now as cold as the air and the snow all around him. A couple of seconds pass and James turns his attention back to the lady who spoke to him, and he begins to walk towards her.

'Hello, you wouldn't be Gwen by any chance, would you?' he asks with his right hand outstretched.

'Yes, I see you have met others from the town already?' she says accepting the offer of a handshake.

'How do you know I am not from the town?'

'That is easy to answer, if you have been here for some time and have had an interest in this house then you would have come here prior to this moment.'

'I hear that you and a guy named Dean Samuels are the ones who are the experts on this place. My name is James by the way.'

'Unfortunately, Dean is not doing so well at the moment, he is currently laying in a hospital bed.'

'Nothing too serious I hope.'

'This house right here has taken an effect of him as it has with me, but I guess it is a consequence of what it is we do here.'

'Speaking of which, just what exactly is it that you both do? I know you guys have a garage in town, but I take it that there is a lot more going on.'

'C'mon, I will take you to see Dean' Gwen says with a smile avoiding replying to that question.

Dean lay in that hospital bed Gwen spoke of and he looked to be at least thirty years older than what he actually is. The previous twenty years have indeed taken a serious toll on him. James arrives at the room where Dean lays and Gwen is not so far behind. Dean takes in a deep breath or at least as deep a breath as he can then removes his breathing mask and acknowledges the arrival of this new visitor.

'Mister Samuels, my name is James ...'

'I know who you are young man.' Dean attempts to prompt himself up, coughs for a moment then uses his mask to aid his breathing once more.

'I can come back if this is not a good time.'

'No, no young man, right now is as good a time as any. So, you want to know more about that old Victorian house or at least what is it that is beyond its front door.'

'Yes ... but how do you know that? ...'

'There is a lot that I know, such as I know you were born eight weeks premature. Your mother told your father that you did not survive. He had been so hammered drunk he didn't try to investigate. A way was found to have you adopted. Forgive me if I come across to abrupt, the last twenty years have taught me to be direct ...'

'... That is quite alright actually. I have been having dreams all my life, night dreams, daydreams, visions. I was led to believe that there is something wrong with me. I have seen doctors, psychologists, the works but I know I am not crazy. I know there is nothing wrong with me.'

'Then you know what it is you must do.'

'... Yes ...'

'You must go inside; you must go into that house.'

'No' spoke Gwen stepping forward. 'Dean what are you doing?'

'It's alright Gwen,' Dean begins to cough again and he lifts a hand as if to signal Gwen to stay where she is. Dean uses his breathing mask once again. 'James knows that it is something that he has to do.'

James looks around for a moment, takes in a deep breath, puts his right hand to his forehead then moves it through his short dark blonde hair. Gwen watches him do this then looks to Dean. James soon also turns back to Dean.

'Yeah, I guess I have known for quite some time now, I just needed some kind of conformation. There are those who say the place should not be entered into but I ... I am not just anyone. Thank you ... thank you both.'

James leaves and Gwen is left alone with Dean.

'What have you just done? You know you have just sent that young man to his death. You have just killed him.'

'I don't do the killing, I prevent it, we prevent it, and you know this.'

'Then why on Earth would you do what it is you have done?'

'You know why it is that she returned from the dead, she wanted revenge and when she got that revenge she did not go away, instead he returned and joined her. They have a son, a son that the husband did not know much about. Re-unite the family or rather connect them all together for the first time and one of two things will happen. Either the nightmare will end, as in it will be over for good and they all will finally rest in peace or ...'

'Or they become some sort of a trinity of evil, an unholy trinity ...'

Night has come and James has returned to the house. It may no longer be snowing though the temperature has dropped quite a few degrees. He doesn't really feel this coldness ... if anything he feels quite warm. He once again makes his way up the garden and right to the front door which is now open and waiting for him to enter, so he does enter ...