A Horror Anthology

Beastly by - @TheVenn

1. The Playground

My fingers circle the lens of the camera for comfort. This is not a place where I would ever want to find myself, but here I am. The mansion looms over me like a monstrous creature, despite the fact that I have not yet approached the door, that I'm skittishly pacing in front of the formidable gate. Hell, it even resembles one. Numerous windows for eyes, with heavy velvet curtains that are dyed ruby red. Or perhaps blood. No. Don't be ridiculous. Imposing wrought-iron gates that are hundreds of teeth, dagger-like, protruding outwards. A large set of double doors, the final frontier before being swallowed whole, a pair of horizontal mandibles. A monster. I shook my head vigorously. Don't be ridiculous. Monster, what're you going on about? Don't be stupid.

I steel my nerves and took a step forward, pressing the little button that was installed next to the right hinge of the gate. There is a speaker directly under it with a red light that blinks lazily. I am being watched. Shit. He's surely seen my thoughts run wild. 

"Hello?" a deep voice asks, crackling through the static.

"Um... hi? This... um, this is... er... Kara Saunders?"

"Saunders? As in... photography Saunders who called for a place to use as a muse and as a place to sleep in?"

My eyes freeze in their sockets as I struggle to understand his sentence. "Yes. That one," I finally manage to say. There's a moment of silence and then a chuckle filters through the speaker, crackling with static.

"Well, I'll be just a moment... wait, did you walk here? If you have a car, perhaps you'd like to drive it through? I have more than adequate space to accommodate your transport, Miss Saunders."

"Huh? Oh, yes, well... yes, I'll get my..." I trail off awkwardly as I gesture blindly behind to where my two-seater hatchback is waiting. My fingers creates faster circles around the lens. Be calm, dammit.

With a horrendous screech of rusted hinges, the gates begin to open, and I slowly make my way down the winding driveway in the fear that I will knock over one of the Grecian stone statues of naked women. God forbid one of them landing on my fragile little car. My nerves start to spark and splutter as I approach the manor. It feels as though... as though the land has eaten me, and I am making my way to its gullet. Curse my hyperactive imagination.

The driveway diverts as it reaches the front door to the back of the mansion, where a garage has been constructed. It's obvious that it is a recent addition, because the stone, while carefully chosen to complement the mansion, isn't eroded, and the garage itself looks out of place compared to the gothic grandeur that the rest of the palace carries in its bearing. Needless to say, it is magnificent, if in terms of size, with four expensive looking sports cars parked inside, gleaming in bright shades. Waiting beside the garage stands a tall man, garbed in an expensive black suit that is tailored to cling to his lean body like a second skin. A slash of scarlet mars the crisp white shirt under the blazer in a silk tie.

I nervously step out of my car, and as it locks with a click, I suddenly feel minute, a puny ant by the foot of a giant.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Saunders," the man says, and in several long strides, he is in front of me.

"I just want to personally thank you for this opportunity, Mr..." I break off with my hand extended, his name suddenly slipping from my mind. Shit.

"Blackwood. Lysander Blackwood," he supplies, taking me by surprise and brushing his lips against my fingers. They are soft and chapped, and I shiver. "But please, call me Lee. Lysander is quite a mouthful, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh... yes, I suppose so," I reply, warmth now spreading from where his lips touched my skin.

Lee smiles broadly at my stunned expression. "Would you like a hand with your luggage?"