Inheritance

I always knew my aunt Beverly was eccentric and a little odd. We were close, especially when I was little, I would go to her house to visit, it was always a magical experience. Her home was ancient, a Victorian house built in the mid 1800s, I always called it a doll house. There were these massive oak trees in the front yard, their branches twisted toward the sky like boney fingers. The interior of the house was old, but beautiful, the floorboards would creak and crack when you would walk on them. Whenever I spent the night, I slept in her “Blue” room. The floral wallpaper was peeling off, the crown modeling was cracked, but the four poster bed in the middle of the room was enormous and so comfortable. When I would lay in the middle of the room at night, I could remember feeling terrified by the dark. I always felt like someone was watching me and whispering, preventing me from falling asleep easily. When I finally did, I was restless, tossing and turning. In the morning my aunt Bev would wake me up and we would eat breakfast in her garden. Her garden was enchanting, it reminded me of being in a fantasy world. She had all sorts of colorful flowers and plants. The stone pathway went from the patio out to a lavish fountain that flowed into a koi pond. Her backyard was my absolute favorite. We would eat at her metal table, listening to the music the birds made. She would tell me stories about the places she had been. Talking with her hands, that were fitted with the loveliest jeweled rings and her nails were always long and painted. I loved my aunt Bev dearly. As I got older, I spent less time with her. I would still occasionally spend the night when I was a teenager, but mostly I just saw her on holidays. When I was twenty-five my dear Aunt Bev was diagnosed with dementia. I used to take turns with my mother and sister to go and take care of her at her home. It got to a point where she was too far gone and had to be put into a retirement home. I went to her house to take care of her koi fish. Her garden was overgrown with weeds, the color had been drained from the flowers, it broke my heart. One afternoon, I sat at our table and cried. I thought of the best memories we had together. We always had a special bond, even when I went to visit her in the facility she would light up, even if it was short lived. Her gray blue eyes would eventually lose their spark and she would forget who I was again. It was the most agonizing thing I had ever experienced. Bev passed away when I was twenty-nine. She was not a wealthy woman, but the bit of money she had she left to me. Twenty- thousand dollars. She also left me her house that I loved so dearly. I decided I would move into her house and take over the property to restore it back to its former magical greatness. I moved into the house two weeks after Beverly’s funeral. She requested that her ashes be spread in her garden, under her willow tree. I respected her wishes immediately and then got to work shortly after. I began in the garden, pulling all of the weeds and trimming the overgrowth. I spent over three hours cleaning the pond and taking care of the koi fish. By the end of the day, I was so exhausted, I didn't even have the energy to make dinner. I went to bed in the blue room, memories flooding back of the nights I spent there as a child. I laid there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and wondering to myself where the time had gone. How was I already an adult and my favorite Aunt gone forever? Before I realized it, tears were streaming down my face. I wept uncontrollably. I suddenly felt so very alone and frightened. I went downstairs to try and clear my head. “I wish my Aunt Bev was here.” I whispered. I lit the fireplace in the living room, cocooned myself in an old blanket and laid down on Bev’s dusty couch. My tears eventually dried and I thought of happy thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep.

In the morning I awoke to the bright sun pouring through the dirty windows. The fire was just ash now. I took off the blanket and stood up from the couch, stretching my arms high above my head. “Time to get to work.” I said to myself, cracking my knuckles. I figured since I was on leave from work for bereavement, I better get all the work done before I had to go back to reality. I made some coffee and put on some good cleaning music. Once I finished my coffee, I felt ready to tackle anything. I began by cleaning all the windows on the first floor, inside and out. It was incredible what a difference the natural light was that came through the now clean windows. It made the place look less dingy and more magical, like I remembered it. Luckily, all of my aunt's original furniture was still there and in good shape, just needed some TLC, like the rest of the place. I vacuumed and dusted all of the furniture on the first floor. I lifted up all the rugs to be aired out and beaten outside. Well, all of them except one. The rug in front of the fireplace in the living room seemed to be stuck to the floor. I found it odd, but nonetheless it needed to be cleaned badly, and just vacuuming it wouldn’t do. I got on all fours and inspected what was holding it down. It looked like Bev had nailed the entire thing to the wooden floorboards. Strange, even for Bev. I went and retrieved my hammer and began to pry the nails, making sure that no real damage was done to the rug. The holes in the hardwood I could fill, sand, and re-stain. Once the massive rug was up I drug it to the back deck with the others. I went back to the spot to inspect the damage to the wood floors. It wasn’t too bad, but I couldn’t see why my aunt would have done that. I swept and mopped the wood where the rug was. I felt something get caught on my mop bristles. I took a towel and dried the spot that was causing issues. It was a wood plank that was out of place, it was bent back and then nailed into place, but the nails were slightly coming undone. I took my hammer and pried the nails off, removing the loose plank. I was curious what my aunt hid under these boards, part of me hoped for jewels. I peeked down into the dark hole and saw nothing, I was definitely not going to stick my hand down there, so I got a flashlight to see if it was in fact empty. To my surprise, it wasn’t. Inside the hole was a little black book. The book was leatherbound and covered in dust. I picked it up and brought it into the kitchen to be cleaned off. The little book was quite heavy for its size. I untied the book and opened the cover. It definitely wasn’t a published book and there was no title. It looked like a journal of some sort. The paper was thick, but brittle, and stained from age. The first page was blank. The second page, however, had some writing on it, but I couldn’t quite tell what it said. I decided to put it away for now and continue cleaning up the house. I would try and read it before bed. After I finished repairing the wood floor, cleaning all of the rugs and putting them back in their place, the entire downstairs looked fresh. I just needed to paint and repair a few more things and it would look like a new house. I made a sandwich and grabbed a water bottle and plopped myself on the now clean couch, physically exhausted. After I was done eating, I just sat in silence and admired my work. It began to get dark, so I lit a fire, grabbed the black book and sat back on the couch. The book had my undivided attention now, so I could try and figure out what it said. I began reading out loud, which I did often when I was alone. “Hear these words, hear my cry, Spirit from the other side, Come to me I summon thee, Cross now the great divide.” I read. It gave me shivers down my spine. I continued “Venite ad me filius tenebris, malum incarnatus est, veni accipe a me.” I said. It was written over and over on the next few pages, I read the phrase over and over out loud. I knew it was Latin, I just wasn’t sure what it said. Suddenly, a gust of wind came through the house, ripping open the doors, blowing the fire out, and I lost all power. I slammed the book closed and searched for the flashlight. My breath was shaking, I closed and locked both the doors. Making sure that there was nobody outside. As I walked back over to light another fire I heard heavy footsteps running upstairs. I held my breath and listened. I walked over to the foot of the stairs and called up “H-hello? Is someone there?”. The footsteps stomped and I heard a door open. The footsteps sounded like they were coming down the stairs, but I couldn’t see anyone. I backed up slowly, still pointing the flashlight at the empty staircase, I felt like I was insane. “Who are you?” I asked. All I heard in return was a deep, raspy laugh. I ran to the front door and tried to unlock it, but it wouldn’t budge. I dropped my flashlight and tried the back door, it was also locked shut. The loud footsteps stopped behind me, only this time I saw a shadow on the floor. This thing looked humongous and had wings. I could see its shadow, but not the creature. What have I done? What did I wake up? Bev warned me about spells before, but I didn’t think of it until now. I summoned something dark, and now it wants my soul. I yelled out into the shadow, “You’re not welcome here!” I ran past it and back into the living room. The shadow followed and the fireplace exploded, knocking me onto the floor. The flames spread all through the downstairs rapidly. The massive shadow crept toward me, still cackling. I laid there and cried, the smoke getting thicker. “Bev, I’m so sorry.” I whispered to myself. Then I swear I could hear her voice repeating “Ire in domum suam.” repeatedly, until it was so loud it was piercing my ears. I backed up to the front door, watching the flames engulf everything. An earth shattering roar ripped through the house, so loud it broke out all of the windows, including the ones on the front door. I grabbed my purse, stuck my arm through the broken glass and unlocked it, sprinting to the street. I got out my phone and dialed 911. The fire department put out the blaze and encouraged me to stay somewhere for a few days. When I returned, there was no sign of the black book. The firefighters said that the varnish I used wasn’t fully dry and must have ignited from the fireplace. I don’t know what happened that night, but I am pretty sure my aunt is looking out for me.