Weird Thoughts

Until even the Night Forgets

I drag the axe towards the manor. It has to be punished. It has to be no more. It has to die.

To everyone else the isolated manor is unremarkable, guarded by black trees and held together by silence. However, silence is the furthest thing that place used to give me. With my other hand I carry a jerrycan, dragging little trenches into the dirt outside. The cover of night is my friend. Sunrise could wake prying eyes.

Reaching the front door, I raise the hateful axe. One strike. Two. Three. Dry wood splinters with little resistance. Nobody's ears will prick up from this. At least, nobody explicable by the natural world. The darkness inside the manor welcomes me through a new hole in the door. I stick my hand through it, wishing to unlock the door from the other side. When my arm comes too close to the fresh splinters, they dig into me. My teeth clench in pain and my hand clenches around the lock.

Warm blood crawls down my arm. With a satisfying click I manage to unlock the door, dropping the axe to the floor. The jerrycan is my friend now. A large entrance hall opens up to me, surrounded by countless doors to more bad memories. Bifurcated stairs tower above. The sight of the place paralyzes me for a moment. When I think of everything that happened here, my flesh crawls.

I pour, covering the entire room. Rank fuel seeps into the floorboards while my sweat joins the blood and tears. Because of the fumes wafting around me, my eyes and nose run. I can't help but smile. The jerrycan now empty, I throw it into the shadows. Long hair sticks to my forehead as I walk back to the opened front door.

I turn and regard the top of the stairs. From there, the shape of a person looks at me. Its body, hovering inches above the rotten wood, is translucent, showing the wall behind it. Its black eyes have witnessed generations come and go. Even though I've encountered it numerous times, my stomach shrinks.

I strike a match, one from a box I've kept in my pocket. As the little flame dances, I look at the thing again. It's opened its mouth. Behind stained teeth, a black tongue is revealed. A moan echoes through the manor. A moan of protest. A moan of death. It moves down the stairs without touching them. The temperature drops by degrees. Hands outstretched; it lunges for me. Fingers reach for the match. The thing that put my parents into a mental asylum and me into an orphanage.

I raise my middle finger, dropping the match. It ripples into the fieriest of all infernos.

The thing flinches from the flames. Its moan becomes more horrible and desperate than words can describe. Good. Fresh air greets me when I step outside. As I walk off into a hopefully happier future, I look around one last time. Flames like towering tongues eat the manor from within. They appear in its windows, giving the manor burning eyes.I chuckle, imagining the thing surrounded by fire. The manor won't stand for much longer. It'll be reduced to ashen wind. Until even the night forgets.