Authors note: I am still working on my series The Incubus Experiments, just wanted to post this story from me and rayfluffyman4299’s in process book that i wrote. Part 4 of the series is getting posted next.
Nestled deep within a quaint, little town whose streets are lined with small businesses and towering evergreens, sits a house tucked away beneath the cover of a nearby forest in New Jersey. Within its many walls lives a family of four: a sister, a mother, a father, and a son. They sit at the dining room table, their merriment manifested by a gathering of food and joyous laughter. A fireplace blazes in a corner of the house, its flames licking the air surrounding it, transforming the frigid air into a comforting calidity. As they mindlessly wallow away in their gaiety, a man stands just outside the house, glaring at their animated shadows through shut, ruby-red curtains.
He places an unaddressed envelope inside their mailbox, an ominous smile sprawled across his callous face as he disappears into nightfall. Morning gifts its presence through the humbling song of the bluebird, rays of beaming light filling the many rooms to its melody. The children get dressed for school while the parents prepared for work. The strong allure of curiosity beckons the father to the mailbox, taking notice of the elevated flag. He plucks it open, stealing the unmarked envelope from the inside and stashes it away in his briefcase.
They arrive home hours later, the mysterious man watches them as they ascend into their home, watching with an obtrude uncertainty to their reaction of the letter. While enjoying the comfort of his reclined lazy boy, the father’s mind drifts to the envelope taking refuge inside of his suitcase. He unbuckled the case and pulls out the letter, sliding it open with his finger. He began to read its contents.
“I’ve been watching your family for quite some time now, and felt it time to reveal my presence. Who am I you wonder? I am the rightful owner of that house. The honor of watching that house has been passed down to me through generations, and I plan to keep the tradition going. I plan to do wonderful things with you, joyous things, I just need time to get things prepared. Keep those curtains open for me.
-signed, The Watcher
He eyed the letter with confoundment, struggling with its authenticity. Feeling an ever-growing sensation of dread, he arose from his recumbent position and shuffled his way over to the exposed, bare windows, drawing the curtains closed. He selected to withhold the letters existence from his family for now, feeling it too early to arise alarm. The watcher starred on as copious amounts of anger boiled within his blood. He furiously cleared his desk, sitting down to write out another letter.
“This time they’ll pay attention,” he thought to himself, watching from his bedroom window as the mother retrieved his newest letter from the mailbox. He grinned as she tore open the envelope; a hand hiding her perturbed expression as she showed her husband its contents.
“Your children are lovely, so young and vibrant. Their youth will compliment my plans immensely. You’ll find out what those are soon enough.
-signed, The Watcher
The father, shrugging off the letters contents, began to speak. “This may just be some teenage practical joke, don’t fix your mind on it for too long.” He listlessly tossed the letter into the fireplace.
“If the issue persists, we’ll just notify the police.” The mother looked at him with solemn eyes, clinging onto the hope of truthfulness in her husbands words. The watcher’s smile contorted into a grimace, his gleeful demeanor mutated into one of rage. Once again, sitting down to write his next letter, he knew that this time, he would get their attention.
He waited outside of their home, palming the letter in his hand. He knew their schedule by now, knew that in any minute, the children would be arriving home from school, knew that the parents came home later that day. As the school bus pulled to a stop, he waited for the children to exit. Their faces displayed disoriented stares as they caught sight of the masked man. He silently handed them the note, tilted his hat, and sauntered off in the opposite direction.
When the parents arrived home, they began to hear muffled knocking upon the walls. They headed to their children’s room and were aghast to find them with their ears against the walls, a tightened fist the source of the noise.
“What are you two doing, why are you knocking on the walls!” The mother judged them with furrowed brows, waiting for an answer.
“We received a letter today about something in the walls, we wanted to find it.” The daughter spoke with an innocence in her voice, forcing the mother to calm.
“What letter?” The daughter pulls a crumbled note from her pocket and hands it to her mother.
“Dear Brickman family, my letters are not to be taken lightly, so please do not burn them. My plans are almost finished, so I’ll be coming for you soon.
P.S. Have your children found what’s in the walls yet? They will soon enough. Goodbye for now.
The police were called the next day. The evidence the family managed to save was presented to them and after searching the house, they concluded there was nothing more they could do.
“You can file a report for now but until we find anything on this guy, we can’t do much more than that,” stated one of the officer’s.
“Sir with all due respect our lives could be in danger, can’t you send up a squad car every hour to check in?”
The officer sighed solemnly, removing his hat to show his sympathy.
“I understand how you feel I really do. Look, if it’ll make you feel any better I’ll send a car out later today.”
The officer’s notion was accepted and they were sent on their way. The watcher stood nearby, eyeing the officer’s with a detestable gaze. His plans were almost ready, and no one, not even they, could stand in his way. He would strike that night, long before anyone could claim suspicion of his identity. He readied his tools and prepared for nightfall.
He stood in the middle of the road, caressing a gun in his left hand, his clothing cloaked in darkness, a large duffel bag sat beside his feet. The squad car barreled down the road. Droplets of water pelted the window, creating a misty veil. The watcher readied himself as the car grew closer. The officer, only now catching sight of him, quickly put on the brakes. He withdrew his gun as he stepped out of the car, aiming it towards the mans obscured silhouette.
“Sir, I’m going to need you to put down the gun ok?” Even through the cover of rain, prominent drops of sweat leaked from the officer’s forehead, a look of worriment spread across his face.
The watcher smirked and began to slowly place down the gun, the officer watched intently, shaking slightly from fear. Before he could react, the watcher lifted the gun and shot the officer point-blank through his skull. He fell to the ground in a heap of his own blood.
“One down, four to go.” He whispered to himself as he made his way towards the Brickman household.
The daughter starred out of her bedroom window, watching as the rain cascaded down the tinted glass. Through the drops she spotted the shadow of a man carrying a large bag, headed towards their home.
“Mom, dad! There’s a man walking towards our house!” she said as she ran down the stairs to her parents room.
“What on earth do you mean?” the father spouted before jumping from his bed and to the living room window. He spotted the man his daughter spoke of, a cold chill swept through his body.
“Mary, quickly, call the cops. I think it may be the man who sent those letters!” He yelled as he rushed to shut off the lights.
The mother tumbled the phone in her hands as she struggled to dial 911. She could only speak for a few minutes before the power was cut off. The house grew dark, heavy footsteps echoed upon the wooded porch beyond the door. The mother yelled for the daughter to grab her brother and hide in her closet, she did as she was told. The parents waited as the footsteps halted in front of the door; then, everything went silent.
Suddenly, the door was smashed open, a masked man stood in the doorway. The father quickly reacted, rushing towards the assailant with the nearby fire poker. The watcher, quickly grabbing a large knife from his bag, plunged it deep into his chest before he could attack. The father stood there in shock, falling to his knees, completely void of life. The watcher turned his attention to the wife. Removing her focus from her husbands body, she ran in the opposite direction towards the basement. The watcher withdrew an axe from his bag and followed after her.
She ran as fast as she could, stumbling down the stairs as she lost her footing. She quickly gathered herself from the floor and hid behind a tall stack of storage boxes. The watcher crept down the stairs, his steps virtually silent.
“Come out come out wherever you are. I promise not to hurt you” he said with the facade of a reassuring tone. He began to walk in her direction, the mother trying fruitlessly to muffle her breathing. He hikes back and forth along the boxes, his steps growing fainter as he moved further into the basement.
She let out a sigh of relief, feeling free from her pursuer. Just when the horrid realization of the situation filled her psyche, boxes slued down from in front of her, an ax burrowed deep into her head. Blood splattered from the makeshift orifice, trickling down her head like the pour of rain.
“Two down.” he headed upstairs to the children’s bedrooms.
The sister and brother hid quietly in the closet, whispering softly amongst each other. The watcher tip-toed into the room, held tightly in his hands was a knife and saw. He searched around the room; under the bed, behind the desk, eventually laying eyes upon the closet. The children coward in fear as the door flew open. The watcher smiled and placed a finger over his lips.
The roar of sirens could be heard through the gush of rain. They plucked their guns from their holsters and aimed them toward the door.
“Come out with your hands up!” One of them yelled, waiting for any sign of movement. The door creaked open and to their horror, a man with drawn guns soaked in blood stepped out of the house. He slowly lifted his guns, angling them in the officers’ direction. In an instant, a barrage of bullets pelted the watcher, forcing him to the ground. Laying in a warm pool of blood, in his final breath, he uttered his last words: “I’ll see you all again, very, very soon.”
Hidden deep within the forests of New Jersey, a mansion sits; its walls decayed, its door cracked open. The horrific tragedy that befell the Brickman family continues to be remembered to this day, some even claiming to hear their screams every year on the anniversary of their deaths.