#31dhhd29

[readingalcove]

31 Day Horror House, Day 29

   Day 29: The Head of the Household.

A shadow moved through the barely open door, sliding onto the wall, then back to the door, centered between Perrine and Boniface. There was a slight buzzing sound as the shadow leaned forward, then, with a slight ripping noise, advanced from the door, three dimensional with sharp edges and a dark center.

Mister Rishel stood and quickly crossed the room to pull out the chair at the end opposite yours, and the shadow sat, becoming flat once again with the chair covering her back.

"I see our guest is already seated," she said, her voice clear and alto.

No one spoke, and you swallowed.

"I'm afraid I've made dinner late, so eat, everyone. I will explain everything once we are full."

The sounds of scraping cutlery filled the room as everyone began to serve themselves.

You heard a chirring noise beside you, and saw that Letitia had just began to eat, crooning to herself as she went. Looking up, you saw that across the room, the gargoyles were tearing into their meat, using a paw to hold it down while they tore strips off with their sharp teeth.

Everyone at the actual table had better table manners, but you were the last one without anything on your plate.

Rishel, who had returned to his seat, leaned forward, indicating several dishes that you could safely eat from, none of which contained mould this time.

Although some conversation had picked back up, you ate in silence. You had skipped lunch in order to make your drive, and you had only grown hungrier since arriving at the manor. As much as speaking to Nesch or Peb or someone would be a better distraction from the shadow at the head of the table sitting there, not eating, just watching you, having a full stomach felt even more essential to getting through the night.

Too soon the terrines on the table were emptied, and the clatter of forks and knives died down in favour of chatter. With Rishel's help, Forsyth cleared the table and served coffee and tea, with small, square servings of cake.

The master of the house cleared her throat, and just as when the door had opened, all fell silent.

"It's time I introduced myself to our guest," she announced, then looked directly at you. You could not see her eyes, yet you felt intense eye contact coming off the shadow which, leaning forward, was again filled out and rounded.

"My name is-" she made a noise like dry autumn leaves scattering in the wind.

Just as you could feel her eye contact, you could feel her satisfaction at leaving you uncomfortable and unable to repeat it.

"You may call me Shade. It's easy enough to remember," she said, gesturing at her form with one dark hand.

"Pleased to meet you," you said in a measured tone.

"Oh, and you're polite. How excellent. For the most part we are a polite house," she said, eyes lingering on the empty seat beside Cynthia with distaste. "It will help you fit in."

"With all due respect," though you weren't sure how much that was, "I'm planning to leave in the morning. Pebble says my car will be ready to go, and I have work in the evening."

"Of course you are!" she exclaimed, then laughed. A few others laughed along, and more didn't meet your eyes. Cynthia and Benny smiled encouragingly, and the children, who had turned toward you, studied your face.

You swallowed the last bite of your cake, then gulped at your tea, scalding the back of your tongue.

"It's been a long night," you said, too loudly. "May I excuse myself to bed?"

Although you could not make out a face on Shade, whether she was shadowed against the chair or leaning forward and somewhat tangible, in your mind she had an over-wide grin, laughing at you.

"Certainly dear. Rishel, are you finished? Please escort our guest to bed."

"Of course. Come along."

You followed him, staying close behind even though you felt pretty secure in this singular hallway, having traversed it an amount of times already.

He opened the door for you, and gestured for you to enter.

Apparently he did not miss your wary glance toward the bathroom, as he told you it had been dealt with.

"All the toiletries you need should be on the counter, and there are extra towels in the cupboard. There is a night shirt, dressing gown, slippers, and your shirt from earlier- it's clean now- on the left side of the wardrobe. If you want anything washed, there is a laundry chute in the washroom and your clothes will be dry by morning. I suggest you close the deadbolt, it helps keep pests out."

He traipsed into the room and pulled up the corner of the decorative overlarge quilt, showing you that there was no space under the bed.

"It helps keep anyon- anything from getting lost under there. Last-" he said, heading back to the door, "there is a courtesy lock on the door."

You nodded, unsure whether you wanted to rush him to leave or to stay with you as long as possible to make sure the lock held.

"It will keep most of the house out, only-" he made a noise that had to be Shade's name, though in his voice it sounded more like the crackling of a bonfire- "and I have copies of the key. Yours is on the nightstand."

"I'm not planning to leave here tonight, nor come back here again after I get dressed in the morning," you repeated, though it was beginning to feel futile.

"You don't plan to. Goodnight. If you have any more questions, I'm sure they will be answered by morning."

You really hoped he meant 'in the morning,' but doubted it.

Mister Rishel closed the door behind himself, and you turned the lock behind him, then surveyed the room once more.

The one thing it really had going for it was that it was well lit. It was also quite fancy and befitting of the enormous house and so on, but that interested you much less as far as making it through the night.

You approached the wardrobe holding your breath, and were relieved to find nothing out of the ordinary inside. It wasn't empty, but even after you removed the three garments and your slippers, it looked still and mundane. Closing the door, you made your way back to the en suite.

To your relief, the curtain around the bathtub was wide open, as was the matching one on a separate shower, and nothing lurked in either chamber. The tub smelled faintly like Dr. Quoll's office, though for all the sterility that brought to mind, you did not plan to set foot in it. The only other place for anything to hide, other than the laundry hatch, which you noted was already deadbolted shut, was the cabinet, and when you opened it, just to be sure, you found it bursting with linens.

Approaching the sink, also happy to find there was only one bathroom mirror, and knowing that so far, it hadn't reflected anything terrible, you washed your hands, then picked up the toothbrush. The paste next to it was your usual brand, but the brush felt fancy. You had never made a point of buying fancy nor particularly bad toothbrushes before, but something about it gave you that impression.

Also on the counter were a couple different brushes and combs, a closed glass container of cotton pads and swabs, a heavy bottomed cup, and a folded face cloth.

Eager to wash away at least some of the day's grime, you shook it free, then found yourself gaping, toothbrush dropped into the sink.

It was monogrammed with your initials.

You spat out the toothpaste and dug through the cupboard. Everything was monogrammed, even the house coat you had tossed on the bed minutes ago.

At first you sank to the ground, massaging your temples and around your eyes, groaning, but it didn't take long before you got back up, properly rinsed your mouth, and got a towel.

Fuck it all, whatever was going on, you were taking a shower and going to bed.

The illustrious head of the household appears. I can’t believe how fast halloween is sneaking up on me.

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