by N.A Miller
Horror piece set in Modern London
|The Entity of Castlebrook Close. (2013)|
It is a house like any other, standing in the city of London, located in the many modest class sections of the city, and off the narrow dead-end street known as Castlebrook Close. It a street that connects the main, sprawling street of Brook Drive, (east to west) that runs along the street of flats to end at Churchyard Row on one end and continues on to the west toward the Imperial Museum, and Mary Harmsworth Park off of Kennington Road in Central London.
The building itself is a three story high-rise, that towers on the skyline of the other buildings located in this part of town, and it is one that is abandoned. It is due to be renovated and many have tried to start to demolish the building, only to be driven away by something sinister and evil within the walls of the home before them. Some say it was haunted, others say that it was possessed, and some have spoken of evil things that had happened in this home a long time ago. All the claims have been unconfirmed, but there has been one thing that has been confirmed, that it has had deaths. Over fifty people have entered, but only two have emerged, exiting the building in an unsettled state.
Outside the building looks normal, as any high-rise would. It has a simple art-deco entrance, a rounded doorway and windows, sunken in the brick building and a shapely brick design that makes the entry appear almost human. The grounds are empty and barren, with a fenced area on one side and a grass area on the other side. There is an inner side of this building, designated for more for parking of vehicles next to the entryway. The buildings that also connect the area around it are abandoned, also to be renovated. The buildings themselves were built a long time ago, in the late fifties, during the Korea War Era and were long over due for a remake and renovation.
Constable Brent Mac Niadah looked up at the abandoned building as he walked toward it this evening, reporting for duty to keep people away, as they investigated, what people said was a Homicide, committed in this building. He is a middle-aged young man in his mid to late thirties, rather tall, quite lean, with sandy-blond hair, sprinkled with gray, a thick mustache on his ruddy appearance, and wearing plain clothes of a London Police Department. Constable Nia, as his peers called him, is a very brave man, having served in the war in the British Army. He had served abroad in the world, serving in the operations in the Middle—East. He served proudly in Operation Desert Shield, Operation Desert Storm in the nineties. Then he served two tours for the recent fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. But most of his duty had been serving against the civil war in North Ireland of his homeland.
He is on duty tonight, with one other constable, the chief and the higher ups suspecting that this is a serial killer’s hide out. The plan is to observe unnoticed, report and move in on the killer responsible for the technical murders throughout the city. A thought that did not make the officer feel too warm and fuzzy, as he is the only one with one other posted here over night. Earlier in the evening joggers had sounded the alarm, finding one body and the imprint of another in the grass. There was a clear sign of a struggle and it showed, as there were drag marks into building through the sunken art-deco door of the building. Blood, saliva, hair and other fluids also covered the brick wall outside, making it hard to concentrate, as the smell of blood is strong in and around the doorway. Police had been here all day to investigate this crime scene, and had no luck as they waited on forensics to come and confirm their findings.
“By George, it has been one heck of a day.” Mac Nia thought quietly, grimacing as he stood beside a wiry sergeant and a police woman who walked toward a car parked nearby. Most of the others had already left, leaving police tape and barriers littered around the whole area.
“Forensics will be here in the morning, to go over the interior, check out the blood, hair and skin… right.” The sergeant said, and Brent nodded his head silently.
“Can’t we post a few more officers here Serge?” He asked, “What happens if Thompson and I cannot handle the killer alone, should he return?”
“Call in, and don’t hesitate to use your revolvers.” The sergeant replied, “Whoever this person is, he has killed fifty people and he’s a wanted serial killer… wanted dead or alive. We can have tactical personnel here in three minutes.”
“Alright Serge.” Constable Mac Nia said, “Thompson is on the other side of the building?”
The Serge nodded his head.
“Stay in contact with him by radio, every half an hour. I will have someone listening and logging the checks at the station. If I find out you are or he have been sleeping there will be a rue between my foot and your butt.” He snarled, “Thompson also has got the same speech, and is well aware of the consequences of not performing his duty.”
The serge grimaced at him and Brent peered at him in the lighted squad car as he got in. He is a stark older man with short black hair, cut in a prison cut haircut, wearing a uniform shirt and slacks. He has thin mustached on his squat face and dark brown eyes. He carries an intense look there.
The Sergeant and the police woman, who was driving, closed the doors with a solid thump, turned over the motor, put it into gear and drove off. They left the constables on guard next to the door, with only a single lamp, located over and left of the door to light the way. Not a very comforting watch for the constables posted here, as it was the same on the other side of the building and Constable Thompson who stood guard at the front entrance of the building. There were plenty of places to be unnoticed, that would allow the killer to pass them by. But it was not time for that yet.
As they guarded the area, they were being watched by a sinister evil inside that has possessed and had taken over the building that they now guard. It is a prisoner of all eternity in this place, luring, abducting, taking, and downright stealing the victims that it killed from the street. It sucked their souls from their meager flesh bodies, that once upon a time, it had been once too. Now, it watched and waited as the two guards walked their post in silence. It’s eyes glowed red as it watched them, smelling the blood of the two men, hungering for the soul of the living as it took so many times.
As Constable Mac Niadah began to walk his post, his footsteps crunching on the dead grass as he held a flashlight in one hand, and he began checking out the area around him. He checked out a thick set of bushes nearby, keeping a vigilant eye on the roadway and parking lot that connected Castlebrook Close Street that ran to the main street off in the distance. He could hear the cars and see their lights there, and the stop lights.
“I have a radio at my side and my revolver. There should be no way this maniac can slip by the two of us, if we keep in contact.” The Constable thought.
He did not see in the windows, however, that began to glow red, the windows shaking, as the door opened and closed. It was like the building was breathing to sustain internal life. A cold, evil, sinister, draft emanated from the sunken doorway and from the half circular windows above it. A strange mist appeared, as it contacted with the semi-warm air and making up a thick fog. The door seemed to move as the building began to awaken, the entity inside controlling its actions as it watched the men.
The entity is a pure evil, an evil energy, a soulless being of hatred, and one who had slaughtered a whole family in this place after it took its own mortal life. Men, women, and children had died at its hands. The two men at the entry points would be easy pickings, just like the others.
The building let out a creak, and a guttural groan made the officer turn sharply, drawing his revolver. He had heard the creak and groan of the building shifting, and the moan of the entity inside. The windows brightly glowed red overhead, the lights dimmed as it manifested itself and its evil throughout the building.
“Whose there?” Constable Mac Nia said sharply, “Police, right, come on out.” He held his revolver in his hand.
A wind sharply whipped through the areas, rustling the bushes. The cold draft struck him, making him shiver slightly as the small light on the wall seemed to dim a bit. The officer stepped back in defense of himself. Through the demolished door he could see two red eyes that peered back at him. The officer had his hand on his radio, and his pistol drawn. A feeling of fear washed over his very soul, as he stared at the eyes. He felt his heart literally leap into his throat as his body began to sweat profusely, despite the eerie cold draft that was coming from the doorway. He frowned and swallowed hard, shaking his head.
“Police, I said. Come on out of there, you… with your hands up.” He said, “I have you covered.”
Again there was no response, the eyes never moving, shining like red rubies in the darkness. Mac inched toward the entry, leading with his pistol.
“I will shoot.” He warned, “If you do not surrender.”
A moment later, something grabbed the officer, making him gasp, and it was like a grip of iron. His finger squeezed the trigger, as shots rang out. His counterpart ran from the other side of the building, but just as he was running to help his fellow officer, the entity threw the body of Constable Mac Miah against the walls like a rag doll, and against the ground, squeezing the very life out of his flesh. His body lay in a pool of blood on the ground outside of the building and it was pulled abruptly into the darkness through the doorway, leaving the same a trail of blood as the other victims they had discovered today. His empty revolver lay on the grass outside the doorway.
“Shots fired!” The other officer was yelling into his radio, as he was running around the building, “Shots fired, officer down!”
Thompson was yelling as he too had his revolver drawn, staring at the pool of blood with his flashlight. He heard sirens in the distance as his support crew rushed to the scene. Peering into the darkness, he shivered, seeing the red eyes for a brief second through the door. But they soon disappeared as the sirens grew closer and closer.
Thompson’s resolve was immediate. He fired into the doorway as the shots ricocheted in the darkness. People across the street and from other buildings adjacent to the abandoned ones, looked on from their windows at the abandoned building. They stared at the police line and the several police vehicles that now rolled up at the building.
Spot lights and men appeared to surround the building, the Serge running, grabbing a hold of Thompson and pulling him back away from the doorway. He was accompanied by a heavily armored man, in battle armor, and holding a nasty machine gun.
“Thom, what the hell are you shooting at?”
“Bloody Hell, he’s in there Serge.” Thompson gasped, “He got Niah! Let me go in, and get him out.”
“We will…” The Serge said, “Just be patient.”
Thompson reloaded his revolver, grabbed an automatic weapon and charged into the darkness toward the red eyes that had appeared again in the doorway. A cold draft could be felt by everyone as he disappeared, and there was the sound of automatic gunfire and a guttural battle cry by the officer.
As automatic gunfire rang out from inside, muffled, there was a brief shout, and a fierce sound of anger. Then there was silence as there was a simple thump, the machine gun fire ceasing, and the clatter of the weapon as it hit the floor inside the building. Everyone standing in front of the door saw the red eyes and the red glow of the windows and door as they stood there, the piercing cold that emanated from the door.
“Sweet Jesus, hold you fire, everyone get back.” Serge ordered, “Prepare the spotlights and stay focused, we have a killer in there.”
“It’s not a human killer, Sergeant.” A woman’s voice said, making him turn, eyeing a young woman named Elizabeth Hurley, the local psychic who worked with police. He grimaced at the young woman, examining her quickly, wondering about her statement. She is hardly what he thought to be a police consultant, clad in a simple blue one piece dress, her skirt flowing to almost the ground and it is more business related than social. She wears white tennis shoes. Her blond hair is neatly put into a pony tail, her bangs were brushed back to reveal her round face and her serious blue eyes that twinkled brightly in the dim light of the spotlights. She had been summoned to the scene by detectives at the building.
“What do you mean, Miss Hurley?” He said, “We don’t have time for riddles, two of my men are in there. Probably hurt and being tortured and held right now in a hostage situation…”
“I would call their families and tell them they are not living, which they are not. What you have there is not a human serial killer as you think.” She said, closing her eyes. ”It is rather large, very powerful, and pure unadulterated evil. It has been stuck here a long time and is a dangerous adversary, not to be taken lightly.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts, Miss Hurley, I have a serial killer in there but if it is not… then who is in there, killing everyone in sight?” The Sergeant demanded sharply, “I don’t have time to say it is ghosts and goblins to the chief. We have to get this fiend.”
“I assure you that I sense a presence here that is totally evil, and is not human.” She said, “it is a killer, and not in the human serial killer sense. You storming the building would get more of your men killed, be happy you only lost two men. If I were you, I would hold your ground and establish a perimeter. You need to handle it in a different way.”
“We can’t establish a bloody perimeter! We have to take him before he slips out of there and kills again.” The Sergeant said, half shouting, “We have to get him now.”
“You need to handle this in another way. We have to exorcise this building, or more deaths will happen. It is the entity that is an evil force that has been locked here for over fifty years, and trapped here. It is alone after killing itself and blocking its way out of here, forever haunting this building. It is responsible for the now fifty deaths that brought the police to this building many times in the last three months. You have to trust me, Sergeant.”
“Look Miss Hurley, I don’t have time for this… just let me do my job, and stand back… and enough with the gibberish…!”
“Is the detail ready?” The Serge asked, and the group leader, a young officer named James Bradley, who hefted an automatic weapon nodded. The other men turned and all nodded too. They all wore battle armor, pads, helmets, gloves, boots, revolvers, Taser units, and ammunition packs. A few of them wore fragment grenades.
The Serge hefted a weapon too, after putting on the same safety equipment, and he prepared to enter the building. They all stared at the red eyes that eerily stared at them from the darkness, felt the cold draft emanating from the doorway and sensed the evil that was here waiting. But it did not matter. They had a job to do. The men and others stayed back behind the cars and sharp shooters targeted between the eyes, even though there was no clear target to shoot at.
“Alright, prepare to move in…”
“Sergeant, you need to listen!” The young psychic tried to say, and he ignored her.
“Let’s kick some arse.” He said, and motioned toward the group. As they moved toward the door, the eyes shone brightly, as did the red glow in the windows and the door. They stood by the door, as they prepared to move in. Each one disappeared into the blackness and behind them the door abruptly slammed.
“Serge!” The voice on the radio said, “The door closed, and is jammed. There is something here, the room has got real cold and…” A scream happened a moment later, echoing from behind the door. Another scream happened, as the machine gun fire echoed briefly behind the door. There was a thud against the door and the gunfire ceased. Blood trickled down the outside of the door’s surface.
“Cripes!” The Sergeant shouted, “Pull back! Right now, everyone! Use the battering ram and open that door!”
The team used a battering ram and broke open the door, the last officer was pulled from the doorway, as automatic fire and muzzle flashes appeared from his weapon.
Something grabbed at the officer who was shooting, like a blurred arm of smoke with a large clawed hand, and it was like a flash as it grabbed him by the head. It squeezed the head of the officer. He briefly screamed as his head popped violently, a moment later, brain matter and blood splattering five feet around the body. It was like the hand had pinched off the head at the neck, the head completely decapitated from the body. As it fell, it continued to fire the weapon, its dead hand holding the trigger. Bullets ricocheted at the walls, into the darkness, on the van, cars and hitting a few of the other officers standing around behind the vehicles. The body continued to twitch and a blood pool appeared on the grass and ground as it lay there, even after the weapon was empty.
“Keep them back, blast you.” The officer shouted, and he stared at the door at the red eyes that continued to stare hard at them from within the darkness.
“The only way to destroy this is to exorcise?” The Sergeant asked, and the young psychic nodded sharply.
“Alright, we’ll play it your way, Miss Hurley.” He replied with a sigh, motioning back his men, establishing a perimeter of one hundred feet around the whole building.
There they waited and watched as a sinister red light glowed from the windows and doors of the building, and the ghost-like entity floated freely throughout the building. Sharp shooters kept a sharp aim on it at all times. The entity watched and waited, unable to act, under scrutiny by the mortal men, unable to reach out to feed on the living flesh of the men that it desperately needed. As its hunger grew, so did its desperation, and rage. Just as it had shown when it killed the others that it lured here and in the forms of Homeless men, vandals, and other dregs of the night.
As daylight approached, two catholic priests arrived, blessed, and readied themselves to enter the building. They had come at the call of the young Psychic, Miss Hurley. They would exorcise the building, to stop the entity from killing any more people, and stop its existence in this plane of reality. Father Thomas O’Malley and Father Franklin Bennett walked toward the sergeant who kept a constant vigilance on the building with his men. When the Serge sensed them he turned and the priest’s held up their hands in silent greeting.
“I am father O’Malley.” The one priest said, the other nodded, “I am Father Bennett.”
“We have come to perform the exorcism.”
“Good, I’m glad you are here, Fathers.” He replied, “We are ready. We have a perimeter established, keeping the public away.”
“We have been prepared, blessed and so forth and if we need to enter the building, do not worry, it cannot harm us.” Father O’Mally stated confidently, “You are the one who can sense it, Miss Hurley?”
“I can, Father.” She said, and quickly filled him in about what she felt, and could sense about the entity that now possessed the building before them. She also filled him in on the entity having claimed over fifty lives of every step of life, men women and children.
“Don’t worry. We can stop it.” Father Bennett said, nodding to O’Malley who opened his bible and stepped toward the door. They began to read. Moving their hands, they began blessing the home. There was a roar, and a rumble as the building began to shake and shudder. Windows began to crack, as did the plaster and wood.
A cold wind assaulted the two men as they stood there reading, and chanting, moving their hands briskly, speaking the ancient words. Another wind blasted them, what sounded like a roar, but the priests failed to budge and they walked slowly toward the entrance as the police and others hunkered down behind the cars.
“By Jesus’ name! Be gone from this building demon!” O’Malley shouted, “Be gone from this building!”
Next to him, Father Bennett chanted in Latin the sacred words. More roars, creaks, groans, and fire shot out of the doorway at the two men who skillfully dodged. Debris shot out and tried to impale them and failed. The roar sound became quickly unbearable, falling into the audio range that made everyone hold their hands to their heads in severe pain.
Around them, the building began to shatter as it cracked, pieces of it flying and reining down onto the ground. Glass shattered as flames rushed from within toward the cars. An evil face appeared in the flames as the priests continued to battle the entity. More debris rained down and larger pieces began to break off from the building. A creaking sound echoed around the officers and the priests, as the building began to give from the stress of force. A roar of anger and fire lashed out again at the vehicles, making everyone duck down. The police continued to hold their positions, or get up and run like a rabbit toward the road to void debris and fireballs streaking toward them. They stopped and paused a distance from the building.
Serge watched with the Psychic Hurley, as the building came down, engulfed in a vortex of flames and fire. The face of a demon was in the center, its mouth open as a roar shook the grounds and the sound was deafening. Black smoke and dust also swirled around them, as a hurricane force winds grabbed and twisted the smoldering wood, and red-hot metal. The building finally cracked into any chunks, as splinters of concrete, metal and glass was spread everywhere.
The ground suddenly split apart below the building, severing the foundation and the rock base that it was placed on. It swirled, twisted and tumbled into the giant chasm that opened below it. A powerful wind continued to suck at the people who surrounded the building and the area, screams echoing the outside as people were dragged from their hold on spots. They all fought to hang on, a few unlucky ones drawn toward the chasm. Their bodies were ripped away and the only thing left were the claw marks in the dirt from them scrambling to get a handhold or a foothold in the Earth.
Little by little, the building was crushed and twisted into the chasm. It disappeared from sight and steam excavated from the molten rock in the chasm far below. Again there was shiver and the ground shook once more as the ground closed up, sealing the hole in the ground. The cold wind had ceased, as blue sky, sunshine and a partially cloudy sky began the seven o’clock hour. The only remnants of the building were melted pipes for water, gas, and sewer, also some electrical that sparked brightly as it arced into the moist open air. The foundation was partially crushed and was missing, partially taken into the vortex of hell itself.
“Holy shit… What was that?” Hurley asked. She glanced at the Serge who looked at back, glancing at his sexy policewoman assistant named Janet who stood nearby.
“We saw the gateway of hell.” The Serge stammered, “But it’s alright now, the two priests, O’Malley and Bennett…. They did it!”
“But at what cost?”
“Yes, at what cost?” The Serge said, staring at the smoldering skeletons of the priests who lay on the ground, struck down by the fire of the evil that had inhabited the building before them.
As police began to clean up, little did they know that the entity had not been destroyed, and the evil had not been vanquished. It was not over. The battle had just begun, as it now just waited, weakened as it watched. It waited invisibly for its chance for revenge, against those that opposed it, for the next building to be built where it would inhabit and continue to kill freely until time would stop without end. It is a pure evil that will transcend until the very end of time itself. It is a killer of all time and space on two planes of existence.
And for Elizabeth Hurley, however, she only knew this was the beginning, for hell on Earth. She shivered coldly as she rode in a squad car away from the spot, as construction crews came to bury the remnants of the building. She had a bad feeling, but she was not alone. The young Sergeant who witnessed the disturbance did too and both knew it would be back.