2.

It is half an hour away from midday on the morning of the day after the night that was. He takes a seat in a corner by the window of a local coffee shop having got himself a large latte then he opens his laptop and powers it on. The house he had been to must have some sort of history, at least this is what he figures and if so then it is quite likely that at least some of that history is documented and readily available.

The woman, the spirit within this house, who is she? Who is this man he is meant to find? Surely, if he finds this man, he would not be expected to just simply go get him and hand him over? And just what exactly is it that he would possibly be handing anyone over to if he were to accomplish this ... mission? This, whatever it is that he had got himself into, is a task that he cannot just walk away from even if he wants to.

On the laptop, he opens a search engine and enters the address of that old Victorian house. A recent photograph of the house opens on the screen and consumes the whole of that screen. A young couple, sitting nearby, are close enough to able to see what is on the screen of that laptop. They recognize the house despite the fact that they have never been anywhere near it prior to this moment. They are aware that the place could be haunted, and this is the reason for them being just right where it is that they currently are.

'So, are you here to visit that house?' the question comes from that nearby table.

'Huh? ... What?' he asks only realizing at this point the proximity of the couple and that they are referring to what is on his laptop screen. 'You guys aren't planning on going there, are you?'

'Sure, and we are looking forward to getting there. Are you aware of the story behind the house? If so, would you recommend we wait until after dark to pay a visit.'

'Recommend? What I recommend is that the two of you go home; maybe go to the Caribbean or even go to the moon for that matter, honestly guys I am being serious here. Go home please. Stay away from this building ...'

The young couple back away slightly as if to suggest that there is not much chance of them going home any time soon especially without seeing what they have come to see and they retreat away because of what they have just been told is something they were not expecting to hear. If they do go visit that old Victorian house, then there is a very likely chance that one of them may not be going home at all or ever again.

He soon returns to his computer screen and as he does so, he sips on his coffee. No sooner had he placed his mug back down on the table he would once again be hit with images, images in his head rather than on a screen. He would see it all as if he were watching a movie, a movie of her life from the time she first came to reside in that house right up to the time of her death.

At the point where the images begin, she looks well, happy, alive, and excited for it is the day with which she first arrives to take up permanent residence in a place where she still resides. How could she have known back then that this would be the place where her life comes to an end? She arrives with her fiancée. At this moment in time, they are just one month away from when they are to marry.

What really hits him about her in this initial imagery is that she is beautiful, very beautiful and it would appear that she has a lot going for her. She has a passive assertiveness about her, a pleasant demeanour. This should be a time when her whole world comes together, a time when everything comes into focus, a beginning that should move to a future filled with life, love, and happiness not death, hatred and darkness.

The place she has come to, it may be a large house and it may just be her and her fiancée moving in though it is a kind of place that she has always had a very strong interest in and the fact that she is going to be able to call such a place home has her feeling very excited indeed. It is not dilapidated as it is now though neither is it pristine, it needs work, a project for herself and her partner to immerse themselves into.

'Honey, you are really sure of this?' her fiancée asks as she is about to make her way through those gates, gates which are not hanging off their hinges or rocking and squeaking in any kind of breeze.

'Of course, my dear, this is our very own piece of paradise, and nothing is going to stop us now.'

It all began as a paradise and remained so for some time. The beatings change that. The beatings changed everything. First it was a slap thrown in anger, an anger soaked in whiskey. Over time it worsened though despite the fact that paradise had not only been lost but had also vacated the vicinity without any possibility of return, she refused to leave. The wedding would never have taken place if she had seen any of this coming. It is all in the past now, a past that cannot and will not be changed.

On an evening that seemed darker than most, an attack came from out of nowhere and went on until she could no longer get up. He was angry for some reason or another and he decided to take that anger out on her. It began like before with a slap to the face and continued until she was left alone to die on a wet kitchen floor, for her partner fled with the intention of never returning.

Her partner knew that he had gone too far, he had not intended to kill her, heck ... he had never intended to hurt her, but it became what it became, and he knew he needed help though at the point of her death he would also know that he could not ever return. She would not let this be, she would not let it rest, she could not rest, and death would not get in the way of her getting her revenge. Almost as soon as her death takes place ... a darkness pours over her and then through the house and what once was will never be again.

That beating she took, he could more than see it, he could almost feel it too, those body shots and the slaps to the face, they almost knock him of his coffee shop seat. What he sees was so much more than some kind of vision. It takes him a moment or so to gather himself once he has completely come out of it.

His coffee by this time had gone cold, his laptop screen had gone dark and that young couple he had been speaking with, have long since left the coffee shop. He was sure that his warning would not be heeded. A clock in the shop also shows that not only had midday come but it had also gone and gone quite a while.

Evening arrives and along with the darkness that comes with it, a light hazy rain starts to fall. That young couple from the coffee shop have arrived at the front of that old Victorian house and at least one of them begins to have second thoughts.

'You know we could always do this tomorrow, it would make more sense if we visit this place when there is at least some sort of daylight available.'

'What? And miss out on all the fun? The whole reason for this trip is to be where we are right now?'

For one of the two, this visit is becoming something more than a visit out of curiosity, a compulsion to enter has definitely well set in, the same compulsion that has hit many a man and this is a compulsion he would be unable to resist. There would be no going back, no going home, well not with his life intact that is. He moves past the opening in the gates then makes his way up along that moss and weed covered garden path.

'Daniel ... please don't.'

'Gwen, we have this, we haven't come all this way just to stop and turn away now.'

Inside he goes with the front door being already open, but it slams shut as soon as he has passed through it. Gwen moves up to it quickly and unsuccessfully attempts to push it open. Thick, dark red liquid oozes out of almost every millimeter, out of every pore of the door onto and around Gwen's hand. She screams a delayed scream once she once the reality of what just occurred can even begin to be comprehended and then she takes a step back.

Rain begins to get into her eyes and the blood smears her face as she attempts to clear her eyes of rain. Once she gathers herself somewhat, she calls out. The panic she feels is unlike anything she could have ever thought possible.

'Daniel ... Daniel ... Daniel.'

Within the house Daniel does not hear Gwen's voice; in fact, he hears nothing at all. That compulsion which has consumed so many before him has completely taken over. The wooden steps of the curving staircase creak, some louder than others as Daniel slowly makes his way up to the second level. He turns at the top, moves down the hallway and turns into a room on the left.

The whole interior of the house is dark with only traces of moonlight squeaking in through the gaps of the boarded-up windows. In the center of the room, he has just entered is a single wooden chair. Along with the gripping compulsion, curiosity takes Daniel further into the room and once he is in far enough the door behind him slams shut and the rotted walls shake momentarily.

Behind him she is there, behind him she is waiting, behind him she has the sledgehammer in hand. He turns and sees her ...