House of Desmodus

1. Grave Robbing

Aileen hated the bus.

To be more specific; Aileen hated the people, the noise and the bus.

She hated the slightly questionable damp seats, the overwhelming smell of body odour that oozed from every crevice and the overlapping of conversations that she caught snippets of between each song.

Aileen had been on the coach for 6 hours.

Her eyes darted down to the journal that was resting on her lap, taking in every loop of inked cursive that sprawled upon the yellowed pages. Having already read through six other journals that were the ramblings of a desperate madman, trying to write down his last sane moments before he was taken prisoner by his mind, an exasperated sigh left her lips.

"Another amazing memoir by my father dearest..."

She snapped the book shut before staring out of the window.

The occasional streak from a street lamp illuminated the back country roads that were covered by the inky blanket of night. However in the distance, a faint glow of orange from the sunrise was peaking over. Her foot occasionally tapped rhythmically against the spade that was lying on the floor in front of her to the beat of the song that played from her earphones.

Eventually the bus came to a rolling stop, the bus jolting her awake from her light nap. She grabbed her rucksack and threw it over her shoulder before picking up her spade.

The cold wind slapped her in the face, the crisp air flushing out all the bad smells from before. She took one last look at the bus as it sped away back down the pothole ridden road. Hoisting her rucksack further up her back, she rested the spade against her leg as she zipped open her fanny pack, pulling out another journal and flipped through the book till she came across a map that was glued to the page. A large circle was scribbled on with a path drawn on how to get there. If Aileen timed it right, she should arrive at the spot by sunlight. Hoisting her bag back over her shoulders, Aileen picked up the spade and began walking into the countryside, heading towards the heavily wooded area.

The path was muddy, caking her shoes which picked up every crisp leaf in her way. It was that time of year where nature wasn't sure whether it wanted to be winter yet, some trees stripped too soon making their bare branches clack in the brisk autumn breeze. Bursts of bitter winds whipped her hairs across her face, throwing leaves and muddy debris towards her face which made squint in order to shield herself.

After what seemed to be an hour of battling overgrown blackberry bushes and stinging nettles she came to a junction where the worn path came to a cross.

This was where the path on the map stopped.

Aileen opened back her fanny pack and pulled the same journal out. Skipping to the map page, she turned the page over that had Polaroids glued down. Beneath each photo was a poem. Where she stood now was the exact same photo on the left page.

Where a cross lies, pointing towards north,

Walk fifty feet away and then ten paces more.

I highly do not recommend going forth,

You will find the monster buried beneath the floor.

"So... continue into the spooky woods. What a long way of saying that."

Aileen tutted before shoving the journal back in the fanny pack.

Zipping it up, she continued on the beaten path, keeping track of how far she was walking. It reminded her of the hiking trips her father would take her in similar places, showing her how to correctly calculate distance when walking. A memory that had managed to survive despite what she tried to keep covered.