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2024-10-29 19:42:56Janice had expected prison to be a lot tougher. A million awful movies (and at least one television show) had shown her just how hard life in a woman's correctional facility could be, especially for a well-educated rich girl. She had expected constant abuse from the other inmates, and even wondered if she would survive the ordeal but to her surprise however, it was pretty easy.
The others always looked at her with suspicion. One time, another prisoner had rushed at her with a stone she picked up from who knows where, but the guards had quickly subdued her, and stopped it from escalating to Hollywood levels.
Janice felt almost like something was protecting her.
“Or maybe you just watch too many movies,” she whispered to herself.
She was lying on her mattress (hard, but not painfully uncomfortable), her hands folded under the pillow where her head rested.
Tap.
After dark, the prison was usually fairly qui
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Broken Night 11
The next meeting was tense.Both Byron and Janice were nervous, stalling in every way they could think of, not wanting to get down to business but not willing to give up either. They made small talk for a while, and then Byron finally broke the spell by bringing out his tape recorder.Janice sighed, “I guess… since you're here...”“Yeah,” Byron said, forcing a smile. “Since I'm here...”They both laughed a little to fill the space.“You were telling me about the House,” Byron reminded, pushing the start button on the recorder.Janice nodded, “Right… so we drove up…”***“It looked like a normal house. A nice, modest two-story, hidden in the village of Ardsley. It wasn't falling apart, there were no broken windows, hell, the paint wasn't even peeling.”'You guys sure th
Broken Night 12
“Time's almost up anyway,” Byron looks at the correction officer, “Right, Betsy?”The guard made a show of checking her watch.“Yeah, you have three minutes.” Byron detected a degree of longing in the prison guard's voice. She too wanted to know the whole story, but he understood Janice needed more time to open up about it.***Byron's office was a small, cluttered place where nobody but the person involved in creating the mess could have any hope of finding anything.And he was the creator of the mess, so knew right where everything was.With a shove, everything that was on his desk, everything that did not pertain to the case of Janice Rosse and her friends, fell to the floor. Now, on the newly cleared space, he spread out the case research files before him. He looked at the photos of the victims; each of them young, rich, and pretty, with a bright future ahead of
Broken Night 13
A few days passed, and Byron had not, in fact, destroyed the files. He had also felt no effects from whatever the ghostly woman injected into his body, and for all intents and purposes, chalked it up as a stress-induced dream.Though you don't really believe that was all it was, do you? He thought to himself as he sat once more across from Janice.“Are you okay?” she delved, seeing him little disturbed.“Yeah. Bad dreams,” he shrugged nonchalantly. Her eyes grew wide for a moment, and she was about to say something, but quickly tamped it down.Byron let it slide.“So,” he looked at her expectantly, once more bringing out his old tape recorder. He had been urged many times to get something more up to date, but he liked the sound of the tapes. The soft hiss crackle behind his interviewee's voice gave a depth to the character. It reminded him that these people didn't live in a
Broken Night 14
Byron used the time his computer took to boot up to brew a pot of coffee. He had a funny feeling that he was about to pull one of his patented all nighters and wanted to be prepared. He always hated research, but the most recent interview had given him so many leads that he couldn't put off the process any longer.The computer sang it’s four tone song, which meant it was ready.Byron sat down and began to work.The first thing he did was search for any mention of something called The House of Dreams, Dream House, or anything similar in connection with Ardsley, New York. Though it brought up a lot of over-priced real estate, there was nothing relevant to his search. A further search adding in “theater” or “theatre” brought him to a page detailing plays and other live shows in Westchester County, but nothing even resembling the House was listed.Switching tactics, Byron, not fo
Broken Night 15
The prison library was small and under-stocked, but to Janice, it had become a sanctuary, a refuge from the dullness and potential violence of her day-to-day life.The librarian, Norma Schelle, was a short, boyish woman in her mid-twenties, with thick, black-framed glasses and a short pixie style haircut. She was also the bright point in a staff of people who always acted like they'd rather strike an inmate than smile at them.“Hey Janice,” Norma grinned from behind her weather-beaten desk. She always referred to the prisoners by their first names, no dehumanizing strings of numbers for her.“Hey, Ms. Schelle,” Janice replied, smiling. She had been told many times to call the woman Norma, but even though the librarian was only a few years older than her, Janice couldn't quite bring herself to do so.“We got in those books you asked for,” Norma smiled. The library made up for their sca
Broken Night 16
Janice looked tired. There were dark bags under her eyes, and her hair, usually pulled back into a neat ponytail, was in total disarray. Byron was pretty sure that judging from the look on the faces of the guards that let him in, he didn't look much better. At least good ol' Betsy, who always seemed to be there, didn't seem to react to his appearance.Thank God for small favors.“Rough night?” Janice asked, trying to force a smile.“Yeah,” he replied, and then added, “You too?”“Yeah,” she repeated.“Are you up for this? I can go...”“No!” she snapped, suddenly shooting forward in her chair. Betsy didn't move in response, but her eyes followed the girl closely. Janice looked sheepishly at the guard and then settled back down into her chair. “I mean… I want to talk.”“Are you sure? We're coming to the hard part, w
Broken Night 17
In his time as a True Crime writer, Byron had interviewed many people, many of them disturbed or troubled in some way. In these interviews, he would often run up against what he called The Breakdown, to the point where, due to the pressures of telling him their story a person would hit an unknown well of feelings and just… shut down, usually in a maelstrom of tears. They always recovered but it was at a point that Byron always hated, even dreaded.The young murderess across the table from him was showing all the signs of The Breakdown being imminent—from closing her eyes, to taking deep breaths and biting her lip. For a fleeting second, he considered standing up and hugging the girl, drawing her into his arms and holding her close until she got it all out. He wondered if anyone had done this for her, this little but important thing, and figured that no one had. Murderers didn't tend to get such luxuries. Though h
Broken Night 18
Byron took another sip of coffee, hoping the piping hot liquid would invigorate him, giving the last little bump of energy he needed to finish collecting the notes from his last session with Janice. He needed all the help he could get.How do I even write up that last part? He wondered, pressing play on his old-fashioned recorder (his lucky recorder) and for what seemed like the hundredth time, listened to the last few minutes of the latest interview. Sure, he could (and planned to) use her exact words in the book, but beyond that he was at a loss. It was such a strange direction, a strange curve in a road that had been straight and predictable until that point.“You knew this was going to be a weird one,” Byron muttered to himself. “That's why you took it on.”Byron pressed his head into his hands, fingers covering his eyes for a moment. He took three deep breaths, exhaling slowly, and then raised his head.
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Broken Night Epilogue
Two authors found at a bizarre crime scene, one dead.Dark fantasy author Emily Diamond's body was found in her home today. She was discovered by police after a call from true-crime author Byron Matthews, who was also found at the scene local law enforcement is calling “Bizarre”. Diamond had been strapped to a hospital bed, where she was seemingly being fed intravenously. According to authorities, Diamond's neck had been broken. “It would have taken a lot of force to do something like this,” One officer, who wishes to remain anonymous, informed. “We're looking for someone with incredible strength and probably some training.” Officers also found a large quantity of “Psychotropic drugs” in the house as well as what are being described as “Brainwashing accouterments.” Matthews, who is not currently a
Broken Night 13
The room beyond the door was simple; squarish and small, able to be crossed with only a handful of strides. The walls were painted eggshell white, and the paint had started to peel, just a little, at the corners. The room had probably, Janice assumed, begun its life as storage.The only things in the room were a small bed covered with hospital white sheets, slightly yellowed with age, and a small machine which filled the air with soft, rhythmic beeping. Tubes ran from the machine to the bed where they attached to the figure tucked beneath the sheets.It was Emily Diamond… the real one.***Adara felt the atmosphere change in her small apartment, the energies swell above her ritual space. She sensed (more than saw) a figure floating overhead in the shape of a majestic grey wolf.Thank you. She mouthed the words silently, not wanting the sound of her voice to break the preternatural silence that had eng
Broken Night 12
Byron heard a sniffling noise from behind him, and in his mind the demon girl had her head in the air, attempting to scent track like a bloodhound. He wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one and realized he had no way of telling.Everything has gone topsy-turvy. He thought to himself.“Clever,” The demon sneered. “Very clever. Which one of you summoned the seraph?”“Not me,” Byron grunted. “I don't even know what a seraph is.”“And not the girl… she hasn't had nearly enough time to learn how to do such a thing. It would take years of study… no...” All at once, Byron felt the stool under his feet jolt as though the demon had kicked it roughly.“Wait...” he hopelessly, foolishly grabbed the rope as though holding it would save him from hanging.“Who is helping you?” she exhorted, her voice tinged with anger. Byron
Broken Night 11
One night before all the madness started, back when Janice and her friends were looking for something, anything, to break out of the doldrums of day-to-day life, they had stumbled upon a film festival. It was being held in a shady, dirty, independent theater, one of the final 42nd Street dives that had somehow survived the New York cleanup of the early nineties.Though they had seen a handful of short films that day, one managed to somehow stick in Janice's mind all these years, though she could never find out its name. It was nearly plotless, relying on stunning, garish visuals. In the film, a group of people, dressed like gods and goddesses from mythology, participated in a party/orgy that very much took on the trappings of an occult ritual as it went on. What Janice was seeing as she carefully followed the wolf through seemingly endless hallways, reminded her very much of that nameless film.Figures would flash before her for seconds, giving h
Broken Night 10
This isn't real. Janice thought to herself. She had made her way down a long hallway, dark except for a meager supply of tea-lights which were placed in scattered recesses along the wall. Now she was standing in a room unlike anything she had seen before.Clearly, it was a living room decorated opulently with silks and overstuffed furniture. It was the sort of room where Janice expected to see Victorian men, dressed casually, sitting around smoking pipes, and talking about their latest trips to Africa. It was a nice room and not that unusual.Except that everything was wrong.This isn't real, this can't be real.For one, the walls were waving as if they were no more substantial than curtains. Shadowy things moved just beyond the walls which had taken on the opacity of theater scrims. Every once in a while, one of the things would push against the walls. Its hand (or claw or tentacle) would push out aga
Broken Night 9
At some point, the demon had lit a candle, and for the first time since being brought here, Byron could see the room that had become his prison.It was a simple room, unadorned. In the House's former life, as a normal place where normal people would live, (if it had truly ever been such a thing), the room would have acted as a sort of storage space for jackets, handyman tools, or whatever other sundry things the family had collected.He stood on a small footstool, painted black. The rope around his neck was nothing special, the same sort of thing you could buy at any hardware or department store in the country. It struck him as funny that such a simple thing could be his barrier, and possibly, if he wasn't careful, his vehicle to the afterlife.“She's coming,” the Emily demon jumped in excitement.It didn't sound very concerned to Byron, but then again, he wasn't an expert in reading the emotions of demons. He
Broken Night 8
The flickering light registered first. It seemed to come from all corners of the room beyond the door, all directions until it replaced everything in Janice's world with cold fire. The door slammed behind her with a defiant thud, leaving her alone with whatever was causing the prismatic world. Slowly, images began to come to the forefront.An animated demon perched on a mountain, summoning spectral figures from the ground.A man, standing in a busy street, throws a Molotov cocktail into an oncoming car's window. Janice could now tell the walls had been covered with sheets of thick plastic and an unseen projector was throwing up images on every possible surface. The air was full of noise, a dirty, toothache inspiring static that swelled to a volume which Janice feared would do permanent damage to her inner ear.If I ever get out of here… Janice thought to herself.A 50s era rock band plays
Broken Night 7
Looming like the villain in a million slasher films, the House cast its shadow over Janice. She stood now on its front steps, holding the vial of who-knows-what in her hand. She pulled the stopper from the vial and put it to her lips before quickly pulling it away. Whatever this concoction was, it smelled awful.Though she was no expert on drugs (that was always more Julia's domain), she knew that hallucinogenic drugs were often placed in an alcohol solvent for easy ingestion, so she had expected a grainy, yeasty smell. Whatever the liquid was, it smelled nothing like alcohol or grain. It was more like rotten eggs and the lingering fragrance you got after striking a match.“You can't be serious,” Janice said to nobody in particular. She tried the front door and was not in the least bit surprised it refused to yield. The doorknob had no give at all, not even the wiggle you get when you try to open a locked door. It was as though a mere m
Broken Night 6
Adara dropped Janice off a few blocks from the House.“I could bring you right to the door,” she proposed as Janice stepped out onto the rain-slicked pavement. “It's not far.”“No,” Janice wished for all the world that she could be dropped off at the door, or even better, she could skip the whole thing and just go back home. Her parents would be thrilled to see her even if she was an escaped jailbird. Although she knew they would probably call the police, it would be nice to see them again. Nice to know that for some people the world wasn't insane, hadn't fallen topsy-turvy; to know there were still people that only had mundane problems (like a murderess daughter...).“I don't want you to get any closer to this than you already are,” Janice said, trying to dissuade her.“If you're sure...” Adara raised one eyebrow.“I'm sure. I don't know who you are, but I know
