Today’s post is my part in a Flash Fiction chain started by PhoTrablogger, which I am super stoked about. You can go there to get the scoope on this whole party, but I will also include the link to all the previous writers in the chain here:
Part 1: Sweety
Part 2: Travelling Hat
Part 4: Moses
Part 5: Sona
Part 6: Manvi
But here’s what you need to know. Here’s the provided Photo Prompt:
Here are the Characters:
Maggy-19 year old Granddaughter of the Owner of the House
Grandpa- Owner of the House (Who Is Missing)
***New Character*** Frank Somerset
Context: Maggy has arrived at her Grandfather’s house to investigate his prolonged absence. After some frightening developments, Maggy discovers there is a dungeon below the house. Maggy was just about to explore this subterranean lair when she was attacked from behind! Without further ado Part 7 The Shadows on the Wall…
A warm burn at the base of her neck woke her up. She rubbed at it for a moment before she realized she was laid out on a hard bench. She felt the cold, damp wood with her hand and all the confusion of the last day or so came flooding back. She was in a very dark room and could see nothing but a stale yellow light that came through under the bench in front of her. Terror kept her face down, but she could hear a shuffling taking place across the room.
“This is sick man,” Robert’s voice echoed off the cavernous basement. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“Shut up,” Steve ordered. His voice was deeper, fuller and healthier than it had been earlier. It was the voice she had often heard as a child, ordering her back on to the sidewalk out of the flowers. “You don’t want Frank to have to hit her again, do you?”
“He does it again, I’ll kill him,” Rob barked.
“Shh-” Steve said. “Calm down boy, Frank took no pleasure in assaulting the Misses either. She got the jump on us, all right? The ceremony was not prepared–”
“Damn your ceremony.” Rob fired back.
She had to bit her hand from screaming. She couldn’t believe Rob was even having this conversation. “Listen boy,” Steve said, “a deal’s a deal. You’ve been paid, right?” She could taste her own blood, as she bit down at this. “Now help us with this final part and it’ll all be over, okay? Now reach down there and grab the man’s leg and slip it into the metal slot there.”
There was the sound of more grunting as the two men wrestled with their work on the other side of the room. Warm tears were now spilling down the side of Maggy’s cheek, as she tried with all her might to suppress a scream. “There. Great.” Steve said. “You look wonderful Sir. Never better, I think.”
“I am going to be sick,” Rob said. “Ah enough of that now,” Steve said. “After everything outside can’t be much left in you anyway. Now here just help me with these last two straps.”
“No way,” Steve said. “I am not touching him anymore.”
“You ingrate,” Steve said. “This is your benefactor, the honorable Sir William Somerset, who is responsible for every little favor and nicety of your pathetic existence, Robert Brittle. So please in final execution of your duties to the Sire, place his wrist into that strap. Please before Frank gets back–” There was massive explosion as the door to the dungeon was slammed shut. It was followed by the slow shuffle of feet.
The shuffle was terrifying. Frank must have walked with a limp because every step was a loud slam as he tossed his healthy leg forward and then a rough slide as he pulled the other one along. She listened to this sick cycle as it flopped down the stairs. The sound of it on the hard rock of the basement was too much for her.
She exploded up off the bench with a belly ripping scream. It was kicked right out of her by the sight now before her. There was her Grandpa. He was in a classic black and white tuxedo and stood arms outstretched as if he was about to embrace his special sweetie. The mortician must have been a Master because her Grandpa now looked ten years younger, waistline gone and a full head of hair, just like Maggy liked to remember him.
There were signs though, signs that in her heightened fear stood out. The eyelids closed shut with jeweled clips, the tips of his hands patched with grey, which peeked through the smeared makeup on his hands, a loose lifeless hang in his posture, an unsightly bulge in his throat, all told her that Grandpa was definitely dead.
Worse still, in some sort of sick mockery, there on top of her Grandpa’s head was a giant purple and turquoise, diamond encrusted fish head. His hands were stretched over a black base of granite, that had a basin of water at the top. The whole scene was garishly backlit by candles and a single house light, which caste a web of sparkles in the water.
Steve and Ron stood on either side of her Grandfather. Steve looked proud and Rob looked embarrassed. Terror sent another rumble up her throat, but then Frank came through the door. Her mind folded in on her. There was her Grandpa again, but like he had been when she had last seen him alive, bald, hunched over, pudgy around middle, but now he walked with a pronounced limp. He was in a tuxedo too and he looked right at her and smiled.
Steve bursted into announcement. “All hail the honorable Lord and Servant of That which Defies Nomination and Explanation, Brother of our honoree tonight, Sir William Somerset, and Great Uncle to the Holy Transcendent (that’s you Maggy), Frank Somerset!”
“Ah good she’s awake,” Frank growled. “Has she agreed to the ritual?”
“No Sir,” Steve said. “I was just about to inform her of the duties.” ……
What sort of wicked spider web has our Maggy fallen into? What is this Mysterious Ritual the gang has planned for her? Who is this wretched man, that claims to be her Uncle? And most importantly, how will she escape and can she survive the shadows on the wall!?!?