This time the girl, (Byron was still calling her that in his mind. She had yet to become Janice Rosse) seemed nervous. As soon as the guard, a new one this time with a scar on his right cheek, sat her down and removed the handcuffs. She began to drum her fingers on the table between them, creating short, staccato beats that led to nothing. Byron waited a moment to speak.
“Are you ready to begin, Janice?” He finally asked, setting up the tape recorder.
“Oh.” she seemed a little surprised, wide blue eye blinking rapidly as they stared through him. “Yeah.”
“Is something bothering you?”
“No… well, yeah… It's just that I try not to think too much about what happened, and last week, after talking to you, it's sort of hard not to, you know?”
“I'm sorry. If you find these talks too distressing...”
“No, I want to tell someone. To a person that doesn't think I'm making it all up or I'm crazy. Somebody who wants to know what actually happened.”
“Well, that's what I'm here for. I do want to hear your side of things.” Byron said. He wasn't entirely convinced. In fact, he was pretty sure she was crazy, to put it in the vernacular, nuttier than a fruitcake, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
This is going to be quite the book. He thought to himself.
“Mind if I start the recorder?” he asked, putting his finger on the record button.
“No, go ahead. What do you want to ask me?” Janice had stopped tapping her fingers on the table, and now jiggling her knee in a way that was even more distracting.
“Well, you were telling me about your friends...”
“We've known each other forever, since before I can remember. We went to the same daycare, the same schools, we all graduated from Manhattan High School for Girls just before… before it all started. In fact, though we never talked about it, this trip was going to be our last hurrah as a group before our lives tossed us in different directions.Lacey was going on to college. We all knew that was coming. She wanted to be a scientist of some kind, something about physics, but cool… like the real Twilight Zone, Star Trek kind of stuff. If you could get her talking about it, and if you could get her to not use all the fancy math terms, it was really neat to hear about. She wanted to find out if there were really other dimensions, you know, like other worlds that were almost totally like ours, with little tiny differences.You know what I mean, right?Anyway, she was going to a college that none of us even had a prayer of getting
“It's alright. If you want to call it a day, that’s fine.” Byron assured seeing her state. It was in that moment, when Janice went from a calm, almost detached monotone to hitching sobs, that he stopped thinking of her as The Girl.Killer of friends or not, she was Janice to him now.She nodded rapidly, gulping in an attempt to choke back her tears.“Okay,” Byron shut off the tape recorder. “You never have to talk about anything you don't want to. I want you to know that.”She nodded again. After a moment she was able to get herself back to a state that was, if not controlled, at least it was rational.“I don't want to talk about any of it, but...”“But you want people to know your side of the story.”“Yes. Even though nobody will believe me.”“I wouldn't be so sure. I can tell, just from tal
“It's been a while,” Janice remarked as the guard brought her to the table. Byron noticed she wasn't tapping her fingers or jiggling her leg this time. Just looking straight at him, eyes expressionless, voice flat.“A couple of weeks,” he said, glancing up at the two-way observation window and smiled at the officers he assumed were watching.She nodded.“I want to ask you about the House today, if that's alright. You don't even have to talk about what happened there, not yet.”“Then what about it?”“Why did you go there, what drew you and your friends to it? You said earlier that it was a fitting last hurrah, but I want to understand why.”“Alright,” Janice said and began to tell her story.***“When we were kids, we lived for Halloween. We didn't care about the candy, spooky movies, the cider, or any of that stuff, we wer
“I think I'm about to get kicked out,” Byron humored, eyeing the guard who stood like all the guards before him, leaning against the wall.The guard nodded as he gazed at the clock on the wall. “Just about.”“I wasted the whole time again, didn't I?” Janice asked, her icy eyes cast downward.“No, not at all, all of this is important,” Byron assured realizing he meant every word.“But you're writing about the… about what happened to my friends, right?”“Yes, but people don't read this stuff just for the juicy details. Well, some do, but you can't do much about them.” He laughed a little and was surprised when Janice did as well.“Most people,” Byron continued, “Read the kind of books I write to get to know the people involved, to help them understand what happened. People are confused about how these things happen. They wan
That night Byron dreamed.In his dream, he sat at a long table covered in lit candles. Other than the flickering candlelight, the room was completely dark. From somewhere in the distance music played, an eerie, droning music that sounded like it was being played backward. Across from him, on the other side of the table, sat a skinny woman with dark hair pulled into pigtails. She was a bit younger than Byron and looked vaguely familiar.“I'd leave her alone.” The woman said, her voice taking on the strange, languid tone that dream speech sometimes had.“Who?” Byron inquired, his voice he noticed, was normal.The woman narrowed her eyes, “You know who.”“Janice,” Byron proclaimed as understanding suddenly dawned upon him. “And why should I leave Janice alone?”“Because you won't like what lies at the end of that road. Be it that of needles or that of pins
This is starting to feel like home, Byron thought as he sat across from Janice once more. The guard was even the same one that brought her in the first time they had spoken, creating a strange case of Deja vu.“The girl who told us about interactive theater was one of those artsy types, you know, short hair, glasses, probably plays ukulele? I think Julia knew her from a community art class she had taken, but I'm not sure.She had just gotten back from some show that was themed around cult brainwashing, and she praised it so heavily that we just had to go. Walking into that place was one of those moments where everything changes. We were hooked.This was exactly what we were looking for.We devoured these things; anything that allowed some degree of freedom and interaction became our weekend getaway. The best part was, we didn't have to wait until October for these things as the
Janice 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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