BRIANWOOD MANOR Chapter 5
Posted: Tue Sep 25, 2012 5:06 pm
BRIANWOOD MANOR
Chap 5
As the cries faded away, I felt an urge to go back to my enlarger where the negative was still loaded in the film gate. I took the netative out, and picked up a lupe to view it. There was no sign of those orbs anywhere to be seen on the negative, so I put it back in the film gate and made another enlargement. The orbs came back, only this time they were as red as tail lights on a car. My blood really ran cold at this point, because both the negative and the paper I was pringing on was black & white, not color. I had to show this to some one who knew of this sort of thing, so I decided to contact an expert on the para normal. It was reasonably early in the day, so I was able to contact the faculty advisor of the para normal club at the local Community College. Harriet Stokes was her name. She was a woman of about 35, very attractive, but very hard mannered. I made an appointment to see her the very next day around 2:00 pm. After I hung up the phone, that old safe up in my attic popped into my mind. Being the curious kind of a guy I was, I decided to call a lock smith. The local lock smith had no expertise in opeining safes, so he had to call on a collegue of his. I was told that a Mr. Johnathin Wiseman would be comming over around 7 that evening with his tools. All I could do now was wait for Mr. Wiseman to get there.
Anyway, as the day wore on, I thought I would take a shower and do some grocery shopping. I still didn't have my car, so I could only do a light shoppint. I purchased another pound of olive loaf and a fresh loaf of bakery bread. The baker had litteraly pulled it out of the oven and put it right into the slicer, so I knew it was fresh. I packed everything in my side saddle and went home. When I got home, I got the food out and made myself an oliv loaf sanwich. I had a bottle of fancy mustard in with my groceries so I put a little on it. When I took the first bite of my sanwich, the taste was the most horible thing I ever experience. All of a sudden, the kitchen reeked of rotting meat. I spit out the rotten food, but the drive to vomit was so horible I ran over to the kitchen sink and threw up violently. I couldn't get that horrid taste out of my mouth, so for about an hour, I threw up and gagged uncontrollably. I took a look at the meat and the bread which was on the kitchen table. The meat was rotten and had maggots and worms crawling al over it. The odor eminating from it was un bearable. The bread, which I watched the baker take out of the oven and slice, was green with mold. It was all I could do to keep my composure lond enough to bag it up and throw it in that garbage can out by the garage. I had no apetite after that, so I decided to skip lunch.
Meanwhile, I was able to make some travel arangements to get my car, the only thing left at my old place, and around a quarter to 7. Johnathin Wiseman was at my front door. He introduced himself. He was a rather wirey man of about 46 or 47 years of age. He was carrying a tool box. I invited him in and we walked up to the attic where that old safe was stored. It was covered in dust. "I doubt there will be anything of value in that save" Mr. Wiseman commented. "I realize that, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. I just want it opened to see what's inside, and if there's nothing inside. I might as well throw it away." Mr. Wiseman got to work. After about 35 minutes of drilling, he got the safe opened. It was empty save for one item. It was a diary titles "The Journal of Nathanial Pennington." "There's your lost fortune" joked Mr. Wiseman. I thanked the man and paid him for his services, then I pulled the volume out of the safe.
I went down to my living room to start reading the old journal. On the front cover, there was drawing a diagram. It was rather crudely drawn, but none the less, it was easy to tell that it was some kind of a floor plan to a room. I couldn't figure out what it was at first, then I noticed that on each little picture there was a number. On the oposite page was a list of numbers, and next to each number a word. When I read through that list, and realized what it was, I was horrorified. I looked towards the huge front windows and noticed that the sun had gone down and the sky was starting to darken. Again, I could hear a child's cry of horror and agony.
Chap 5
As the cries faded away, I felt an urge to go back to my enlarger where the negative was still loaded in the film gate. I took the netative out, and picked up a lupe to view it. There was no sign of those orbs anywhere to be seen on the negative, so I put it back in the film gate and made another enlargement. The orbs came back, only this time they were as red as tail lights on a car. My blood really ran cold at this point, because both the negative and the paper I was pringing on was black & white, not color. I had to show this to some one who knew of this sort of thing, so I decided to contact an expert on the para normal. It was reasonably early in the day, so I was able to contact the faculty advisor of the para normal club at the local Community College. Harriet Stokes was her name. She was a woman of about 35, very attractive, but very hard mannered. I made an appointment to see her the very next day around 2:00 pm. After I hung up the phone, that old safe up in my attic popped into my mind. Being the curious kind of a guy I was, I decided to call a lock smith. The local lock smith had no expertise in opeining safes, so he had to call on a collegue of his. I was told that a Mr. Johnathin Wiseman would be comming over around 7 that evening with his tools. All I could do now was wait for Mr. Wiseman to get there.
Anyway, as the day wore on, I thought I would take a shower and do some grocery shopping. I still didn't have my car, so I could only do a light shoppint. I purchased another pound of olive loaf and a fresh loaf of bakery bread. The baker had litteraly pulled it out of the oven and put it right into the slicer, so I knew it was fresh. I packed everything in my side saddle and went home. When I got home, I got the food out and made myself an oliv loaf sanwich. I had a bottle of fancy mustard in with my groceries so I put a little on it. When I took the first bite of my sanwich, the taste was the most horible thing I ever experience. All of a sudden, the kitchen reeked of rotting meat. I spit out the rotten food, but the drive to vomit was so horible I ran over to the kitchen sink and threw up violently. I couldn't get that horrid taste out of my mouth, so for about an hour, I threw up and gagged uncontrollably. I took a look at the meat and the bread which was on the kitchen table. The meat was rotten and had maggots and worms crawling al over it. The odor eminating from it was un bearable. The bread, which I watched the baker take out of the oven and slice, was green with mold. It was all I could do to keep my composure lond enough to bag it up and throw it in that garbage can out by the garage. I had no apetite after that, so I decided to skip lunch.
Meanwhile, I was able to make some travel arangements to get my car, the only thing left at my old place, and around a quarter to 7. Johnathin Wiseman was at my front door. He introduced himself. He was a rather wirey man of about 46 or 47 years of age. He was carrying a tool box. I invited him in and we walked up to the attic where that old safe was stored. It was covered in dust. "I doubt there will be anything of value in that save" Mr. Wiseman commented. "I realize that, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. I just want it opened to see what's inside, and if there's nothing inside. I might as well throw it away." Mr. Wiseman got to work. After about 35 minutes of drilling, he got the safe opened. It was empty save for one item. It was a diary titles "The Journal of Nathanial Pennington." "There's your lost fortune" joked Mr. Wiseman. I thanked the man and paid him for his services, then I pulled the volume out of the safe.
I went down to my living room to start reading the old journal. On the front cover, there was drawing a diagram. It was rather crudely drawn, but none the less, it was easy to tell that it was some kind of a floor plan to a room. I couldn't figure out what it was at first, then I noticed that on each little picture there was a number. On the oposite page was a list of numbers, and next to each number a word. When I read through that list, and realized what it was, I was horrorified. I looked towards the huge front windows and noticed that the sun had gone down and the sky was starting to darken. Again, I could hear a child's cry of horror and agony.