As the grandfather clock tolled at the stroke of midnight, I awoke, prematurely, from a deep slumber, chilled by the Autumn breeze whispering the large sash window.  I silenced Autumn and sought warmth from the fireplace within the family room on the 1st floor. I own no furniture nor entertainment except for my volumes of horror withering on the rotted floor. They keep me up through the night and in turn my only remedy is a bottle of wine to past the eternal night.

This Victorian home may creek and smell of rot but with three floors, 8 bedrooms, and 3 full bathrooms only a fool would not purchase this house.  It contains a surrounding garden that rivals with Eden’s, containing beautiful roses, rhododendrons, trumpets, and belladonnas, of course these are toxic, but nonetheless beautiful and a weeping willow reaching to my chamber on the second floor.  The house itself was protected by the most peculiar humanoid statue of a creature on all fours with ears of an elf, the mane of a lion, the tail of the devil, snout of a wolf, fangs of a venomous viper.  Not only did this creature instill an acute sense of dread but an awkward sense of awe. Its office as caretaker of this house was obvious as its head is mounted on the heavy wooden door serving as the eyes to see foreigners and their ticket to enter my dwellings.  However, the locals are perhaps not fond of new additions to their pleasant town.
  Four weeks without a knock on the door or even a hello on a stroll.  The only thing I have been privileged to see is their glaring eyes. Perhaps it’s my stature that frightens them or perhaps the local myths of curse upon this house that veers them away.  As the last master told me, “When the full moon radiates within the sky, there may be a chance of a mysterious presence but pay it no attention. Stay within your chambers, ignore the whispers, and do not provoke what lurks within the darkness”.  I have divulged too much into true horror to believe in such myth that is created for the weak minded fools.  I have journeyed through the land of the dead, hell, and purgatory from the safety of my chair but still felt the boiling terror and the explosive horror emanating through me while I continued to read.
  The fire was now reduced to embers and my bottle dried up. Seems to be the time to retire. But as I arose, I heard a series of rapping on the upper floor followed by the sound of claws scratching on the wooden floor.  Must be a stray cat, I presumed, that climbed up the old willow outside.  I climbed up only to find the situation to be even more peculiar.  My chamber door was left open for me to find the dark abyss to shroud the contents within.  I entered and lit the little oil left within the wall lamp expecting to see a feline sleeping in my bed.  But I ignited the oil only to see the features of the caretaker and then he stood and shrieked.  The light snuffed out, along with my sanity.