The Heartfelt Sacrifice

Chapter 1

My first night within the confines of this dark creatures grasp was upon a late summer night in 1927. A cool breeze had just begun to break the days stillness and a few clouds had formed a deathly mask over the sunset. They smothered its warmth and a chilled air slowly filled our bed chamber as the hours dwindled away.
My wife of 30 years had found her way into the land of hidden dreams with relative ease, my journey however was one of little success. After about an hour of laying wide awake, with my dark eyes firmly fixated upon the fluttering of the heavy burgundy curtains, I was no closer to sleep than I was before I had laid my head upon the pillow. My mind was awake and continually swirling with random thoughts of nothingness.
I was just about to roll over in the hope that the change of position would calm my mind when suddenly I heard a monstrous thud just outside our chamber in the hall way. It was as if one of the manner house's ancient oak trees had just fallen right outside the door. I was just about to remove my covers and inspect the darkened hallway when all of a sudden my wife bolted upright. Her long greyed hair floated ghostly whilst her thin pale lips twitch ever so slightly. I placed a comforting hand upon her bony shoulder and softly spoke; "it's probably nothing, I'm just going to check". However, the strange noise was not the only peculiar incident to happen that night. For my wife, in a corpse like fashion, ignored both my words and my touch. Instead her mouth opened and released a horrifying scream. I had no time to attempt to comfort her as immediately after she then began to screech out the words; "get that serpent away from me! Keep it away!". Once the last bizarre phrase had left her lungs she then immediately proceeded to collapse backwards and remain in an immobile state of slumber once more. I was left in such shock in the wake of this sudden outburst, a night terror it was latter diagnosed, that I promptly forgot all about the loud noise that had startled me before my wife's actions.
It wasn't until much later the following day that the memory of that puzzling thud was clawed to the very front of my mind once more. It was late in the afternoon and I had decided to take a stroll around the grounds after lunch. Our Manor House sits comfortably within rolling hills and deep forests, one of which leads to an old disused church upon one of the highest hills around.
For the entire duration of my aimless wander around the grounds I had felt an uneasy air gradually build around me. This unknown dark sinister secret of hell stalked me right from the very moment I had placed my booted foot out of the door and with every nervous glance I made while walking it continued to whisper with even greater intensity. To me it felt as though I was being watched, some unseen eyes of demonic possession drifting in and out of the woods that encircled my walk. Once I even thought I had seen a small yellow pair of nonhuman eyes peering out from beneath large wooded shrub. However I continued on with my walk in spite of this peculiar feeling that was stalking me.
I was just approaching the farthest side that sits to the back of our house, dense creeping woods line the boundary and continue up upon a steep hill. It was there that I had noticed how two large trees were pushed slightly to the side as if they were curtains that had been slightly parted by someone wishing to peer out from the woods and look upon my house.
I was about to take a closer look when my eyes caught sight of a delicate beauty emerge from within the contorted woods. She was of slender form and wore a simple grey dress that floated just above the dry brown grass. The dress clung to her body and fitted her petite shape rather well. As she drew closer toward me I could tell that she was rather short in stature but grand in beauty. Wavy dark blonde hair, the kind that looks as though the wind had blown it dry without a single comb being tentatively used, framed a young pale face with dark burgundy lips. These rather full, almost hypnotic, lips bore the shape of a smile as she approached. At first I could not tell the colour of her eyes as the lowering sun softly reflected off of her thick dark rimmed glasses. Later I was to discover that her eyes were a strange blend of deep blue and a soft hint of green. I was so captivated by this mysterious beauty emerging from such a dark and horrid looking place that I did not smile, nor did I speak until she was but only a few meters in front of me.
Once I realised my almost perverted stance and ungentlemanly silence I softly smiled and warmly greeted her with an introduction to myself and the grounds in which she was wandering in. Upon a brief exchange of friendly words I discovered that she was the niece of our elderly Gardner, Tom. She was here to stay with him for the remainder of the summer until her schooling began once more in the city of Salem. I was at first rather surprised at this as Tom had been our Gardner since I was a young man in my 20's and not once had I known him to have had any family whatsoever. But upon later reflection I can't recall a single conversation with the man lasting anymore than a few brief minutes. He was a man of little words and seemed more happily placed within the rows of flowerbeds and shrubs that he so lovingly attended to than within the confines of human discussion.
Our conversation then turned towards the strange oddity that had led me to stare out toward the woods in the first place. She had said that the strange symmetry of broken branches and bent trunks made their way much deeper within the painfully dark wood, up towards the hill upon which stands the old forgotten church. She commented how she had briefly glanced upon the strange old building and felt as though it was somewhat out of place.
Now my family have resided within this house and it's grounds for sometime, however it was not by their hands that this house was built. But with that said, local history is my forte and so a deepened knowledge of these buildings and its surroundings remains rooted within my very blood and veins.
I went on to explain that it is the peculiar architecture of the said church that conjures such oddities within the minds of all those who look upon it. For it is rather gothic in nature, nothing like the white wooden churches of New England that reside within many a town and city. This church is one of brick and stone.
It seems out of place within this new world, a piece of old England resurrected within New England. The reason for this summery is that it is in fact a very real piece of old England, it's original holy placement upon our mortal soil was within a small English village in East Anglia.
A rather eccentric land owner whose fantastical fetish-like fascination of medieval English architecture had led him to purchase the church from the village.
Possessed with a level of eccentricity rivalled only by those born of English soil, he proceeded to have the church dismantled brick by brick, stone by stone and tomb by tomb. It was then transported across the Atlantic to the new world, to New England and to its new resting place. Where upon its arrival it was lovingly rebuilt and restored, brick by brick, stone by stone and tomb by tomb.
She became quite fascinated with my telling of the areas history and that of my family. I'd be lying if I told you that my enthusiasm and passion didn't grow with every soft smile that leaked from her wondrous lips. I loved how her eyes widened to take in more of the peculiar history of the surroundings. With every word we felt more comfortable around each other and our conversation slowly dripped with flirtatious comments and the odd touching of arms.
Once I had felt the mood flow with more passion I decided to invite the young woman on a tour of the area and perhaps a picnic up by the old church. Her youthful energy shone in her delight of my invitation that she kissed me on the cheek as we parted, agreeing to meet up in that very same spot the following day at noon.
My life has seen me partake in a magnitude of sins and so if I were to be embraced within the Devils arms then it wouldn't be for a simple sensual flirt with this young woman. Besides, if I am to be cast into the flame then why not cast me with a beautiful woman upon my arm, is this not every old sinning man's dying wish. Fate however would see to it that I shall be cast alone and with no woman, young or old, by my side. But that is just me jumping ahead in this story.