Title: Déjà Vu

Blurb: Where there's a grave, there's adventure, where there's adventure, there's action, where there's action, there's mystery, where there's mystery, there's fear, where there's fear, there's longing, where there's longing, there's loss, where there's loss, there's pain, where there's pain, there's death, where there's death, there's the unknown.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

A story of the dark, the damned and the unforgiving

"Mistakes are not forgiven."

So read at your own risk.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The icy wind slashed at my face, as the pouring rain danced it's evil dance upon my head. I fastened my cloak about my neck, my fingers numb from the cold. I guess it wasn't such a great idea to visit a graveyard after all. I tripped over a tombstone as I stumbled cross the ground. Suddenly, a flash of lightning ripped through the cloudless sky, illuminating a building at the edge of the graveyard. Venturing closer, basking in the ghoulish glow of the moon, stood an ancient manor. I slowly trudged towards it, the rain weighing me down. The graveled path led me through an unkept garden, over populated by weeds and thistles.

I walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the door. It's black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox. I grasped the door handle for a moment and heard many loud metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of chains. I stepped over the threshold into the semi-darkness of the hall. The whole area gave off a damp, musty odor; the place had the feel of a derelict building. I had an odd sense of foreboding, feeling as though I had just entered the house of a dying person. I heard a soft hissing noise and then old fashioned gas lamps. Sputtered to live all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and thread bear carpet of a long gloomy hallway, where a cobwebbed chandelier glimmered overhead.

Age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. I heard something scuttling behind the skirting board. Both the chandelier and candelabra were shaped like serpents. I walked in warily, jumping at every creaking floorboard, at every howl of the wind, I tiptoed towards the parlor, rats and various other rodents scuttled across the floor. The house was dilapidated to say the least. The roof was in shambles, and you could hear the raindrops pattering against the floor.Past the parlor, was the drawing room. There was an array of dusty glass fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece.

They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snake skin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages I could not understand, and least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what I was sure, was blood. Behind me, I heard the clatter of an object falling to the floor. I whipped around, and to see an eerily pale woman in a rocking chair. Someone lives in this house? The woman suddenly gave a frightening lurch and when lightning struck the sky, I saw her head fall of. I screamed only to realize that it was a bare skull.

I bolted, only to realize that I was being followed. Behind me, I heard the sound of quick footsteps. I ran faster, my face ashen, I tried pulling a door handle to a door, only to realize, it was locked. Behind it, someone screamed like a banshee and after moments, let out an ear splitting howl. I waited at the door, for any signs of any one opening the door. No such luck. I began to creep away, but my stop, had cost me time. I felt an icy claw glide along my back,dividing my body in half.

My knees buckled, as I began to quacke in my boots. I ran for the steps, I could feel the rotting wood fall out under my feet, the maggots gliding out. Brushing past the cobwebs and fallen spiders, I fumbled with the lock of a door. It was gritty with dust. I ran inside and shut it. I breathed again. I then heard the sound of scraping against the outside of the house. Please let it be a racoon, I thought. I gazed around me. There was a cracked mirror a moth eaten bed and portraits all over the walls

The house creaked.

The portraits shuddered.

That's when I realized, there were no portraits.

Only windows.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

This is an entry in Sophia's writing contest (Tragedy: A Oneshot Contest) 
Hope you like it!

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪