head archivist ayden

“Jay, we really shouldn’t be here. Just looking at it gives me the chills.”

The house in front of them was none other than Hell Hall. Grandiose and ominous, the dark of night made it look even more intimidating. Atop the roof were two gargoyles on either side, snarling mouths carved wide and the stone was eroded in places, caverns in the sides and one of the wings was missing. Carlos shifted in his spot, looking to his friends, Jay had his arms crossed, snarky grin plastered on his face, Mal in a similar stance, though noticeably less confident, and Evie was holding herself together, sharing Carlos’ timid demeanour. Her lips were pinched in a tight line, she’d also protested coming here but Mal had convinced her to come along despite her protests.

Carlos hadn’t been back here in some years, since his mother had passed. He ran away to live with Evie, hearing of his mother’s demise only a few weeks later. Rumour had it that she had died from the madness that followed his absence; she was used to Carlos maintaining the house and herself, when he left, she’d lost what little of her sanity she had left, she’d gone around hurling abuse at other villains and confining herself to one small room, barricading herself in with no food or water, mistakenly believing she was above the human needs, claiming herself a god. He didn’t go to her funeral. He never wanted to see that woman again, never wanted to return to the house that held him hostage for sixteen years of his life. That house stood for everything bad that had happened to him, coming back made all the hairs on his body stand to attention.

Jay had begun pulling at the tarnished silver door knobs, clearly closed tightly.

“We should go back. I have a weird feeling about this.”

The taller boy stopped pulling for a moment to jest back.

“Oh, too scared? Come on dude, you lived here, you can handle one night back.”

“You’re not funny Jay,” Evie shot back, anger laced in her usually soft voice. “This place is creepy enough, let alone on Hallow’s Eve.”

“Isn’t that exactly why we’re here?” Mal questioned. “Move back, tugging at the doors clearly isn’t working for you.”

Jay stepped back, hands raised in mock defence. Mal had pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, fiddling with the locks. Evie rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ease out some of her tension.

“Why don’t we just go to my castle, we can scope out the dungeon. I know the way around it.”

“E, we’ve seen that dungeon enough. Plus, you got your ass handed to you in there, I’m not making you do that.”

Carlos flinched at her words. He never spoke about much of the abuse, but he’d dropped details here and there. Clearly no one had paid attention to him. That fact hurt him more than expected, he had half a mind to leave alone, let them have their own fun. For some reason though, he stayed. He half wanted to show them around, show them the closets he was locked in for half of his life, show them the traps he had to step around for fear of his life, show them the weapons he’d become friends with. Maybe they’d finally take him seriously.

After a few moments, Mal had got the doors unlocked. They swung open with a loud creak, hinges barely holding the heavy blocks of wood up.

“We’re in. Let’s go.”

No sooner as the words left the girl, Jay ran in, staring around at the main hall, tall ceilings and blank walls with a decaying staircase in the middle as the centrepiece. Carlos felt his blood run cold as he spotted one of the closets he’d be thrown in.

“Where was her room? Hey, Carlos, are you listening?”

“Upstairs, third door on the left hallway.” He replied, almost on autopilot.

Evie was the first to notice his discomfort, offering a weak rub on his arm, unsure how else to help. He rested his head on the arm, taking a deep breath, lungs suddenly feeling like he couldn’t take in enough air. All four of them walked the staircase, Jay leading the charge. Suddenly it crossed Carlos’s mind, had anyone removed Cruella’s body? He felt the blood run out of his face and his hands felt numb. A loud bang resonated in the hall, doors had been slammed shut. There was no breeze and none of them were close enough to have done it. Footsteps came from in front of them, the clacking sounds of heels hitting the tiles were too familiar to Carlos. His mother would never go without them. Jay whipped around, questioning the two girls if they’d done it to mess with him, to which they denied.

“It’s not them. It’s my mom.”

“How the hell do you remember what her footsteps sounded like?”

“I had to! If I heard her in time, I could hide from her.”

His eyes rolled and Carlos felt fire in his cheeks, a sudden surge of anger ran through him.

“What? You’re telling me you never had to hide from your dad? You never ran away to avoid him flogging you?”

“Not cool, man.”

“Whatever.”

Carlos forced himself to the front of the group, walking to his mother’s old room. His fingers lingered from turning it open. He was scared to look in there, praying someone had taken her body and buried her somewhere. There was a funeral, she had to be six feet under, there was no way she’d still be here. A menacing laugh echoed in his mind, judging by the tentative looks on the others’ faces, it echoed in the corridor too. He took a breath, and opened into the room. Immediately, a pungent smell of death violated Carlos’ senses. He retched, covering his nose with both hands to try and staunch the smell. Everyone followed, covering their mouths and noses. The laugh was louder now, the breaths in between sounded high and strained, like someone clinging to the last tendrils of life. When Carlos regained his composure, he looked back at Jay.

“Still want to check it out?”

The boy didn’t speak, eyes wide and unblinking. Evie had thrown up, Mal tending to her. If no one else was going in first, Carlos would. He stepped further into the room, the smell becoming more pronounced and pungent. He covered his nose with his t-shirt as he continued in.

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point, we can go.”

“No. You wanted a haunted house, I’ll show you a haunted house.”

His voice was slightly muffled under the shirt but Jay had heard it loud and clear judging from the tight line of his lips and harsh angle of his shoulders.

The bed looked made, as if done that morning. The side table he could see was caked in a thick layer of dust, in similar fashion were the trinkets Cruella had collected over her years, all in her red, black and white colour scheme. Nothing looked out of place by any means, the pillows and cushions were fluffed, the curtains were drawn and he could see the boards lining the empty window frame. He rounded the corner of the bed and fought to not vomit himself. His eyes darted, hardly believing the sight. But there was a funeral, there was a coffin, this couldn’t possibly be right. Jay had entered the room, guarding his own nose.

“You don’t have to do this, I’m sorry, you were ri-” He cut himself off.

The girls had entered to see what the commotion was about, Evie let out a squeal that almost turned into a scream, Mal turning away with a fist to her mouth. The laughter was unending as they stared, unending and only becoming more unhinged.

It was a skeleton. He could almost convince himself it was fake if there wasn’t residual black and white hairs scattered on the floor, he could convince himself it was fake if there weren’t clinging patches of decayed flesh on the bones, he could convince himself it was fake if there weren’t swathes of maggots wriggling around on the floor and burrowed into the tiny flesh patches. It wasn’t fake.

Carlos collapsed to his knees, unable to worry about the writhing white masses only a foot away from him.

“There, there was a funeral, I don’t, I don’t, t-there was a coffin. She, she’s supposed to be, this isn’t-”

“Carlos, Carlos, get up,” Jay was pulling at his arms but it was like he was rooted to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, we can go. Let’s go.”

He sat there, panting heavily. He’d wanted her dead, he’d wanted her dead for years. With her laugh in his head and her corpse right in front of him, he realised he never wanted it like this. He felt more arms grab at him, Evie and Mal but he felt a third, icy cold pair wrap around his waist, beckoning him to stay. With some effort, the three got him to stand, tugging at his jacket to pull him out of the room. Only when he was out could he stop staring at the yellow-white bones and the chilling laughter stopped. None of them spoke until they were out of the house again.

“Do, do you want to talk about it?” Evie finally spoke up.

“No, no I don’t.”

There was an awkward silence for what felt like agonising minutes.

“Can we go home now?”

“Yeah,” Mal chimed in. “We’re never coming back here. You’re never coming back here.”

“Okay.” His voice was barely audible, and he felt something hot run down his cheek. He reached up to brush away whatever had grazed him, but it was wet. He had been crying.

“I’m so sorry ‘Los.”

He didn’t answer.

The image of that night, he knew, would be burned into his mind. He closed his eyes to try and ignore the thoughts. The image was etched into the back of his eyelids, a photo of perturbation.

Carlos knew he was in for a restless night, only seeing her skeleton slung across the floor and further defiled by maggots. At least she was gone.