Spirit Catcher

    Sleep eluded me. As I lay on this unfamiliar bed looking up at the spiderwebbed ceiling, I couldn't help but feel angry at my parents for having to move. I felt dissociated and disoriented, as if I had left a place of comfort and familiarity and entered somewhere that represented the exact opposite. Seeing that it was futile to lay on the bed and try to fall asleep I decided to roam the house.

The floorboards creaked as I tiptoed through the corridor, past my parents' bedrooms. I snuck a flashlight out of my duffel bag and used its light to guide me through the dark. The old Victorian house was filled with lots of uninteresting rooms, spare bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, dining rooms, the kitchen...the corridors were filled with creepy pictures of the previous owner, who had died some hundred years ago.

Finally, I came across the place I had been searching for...the library. I quickly located the light switch next to the door and flipped it. Light from a dusty chandelier filtered around the room. I saw the swirls of dust being kicked up from the shag carpet beneath my feet as I made my way over to the bookshelves. I ran my fingers across the spines of the books. It was clear from the titles that the previous owner was fascinated with the occult. Wanting nothing to do with those types of book I quickly found some more child-friendly novels.

'Moby Dick' was the book that caught my eye. It was a bit high for me to reach so stretching on tiptoes I manage to hook my finger over the top of the book and pull it down onto its spine so that I could slide it out of the shelf. However, when the book hit the shelf with a thud, it was accompanied by a very audible 'click', and the bookshelf popped open. Fear told me to go back to my room or to my parents and tell them what I had discovered, but curiosity told me to press on. With a deep breath and holding my flashlight to my chest like a lifeline, I entered the secret door.

Beyond was a simple corridor leading to a staircase which descended far below the basement of the house. Before I could make up my mind to continue forward the bookcase had swung shut behind me, trapping me inside the corridor. I spun around and pressed my back flat against the bookshelf, closed my eyes and steeled myself. Holding onto the flashlight firmly, I descended the staircase.

At the bottom was an iron door wrapped in chains. There were words etched on the door:

'Wary traveller beware,

Of the secret buried here.

The Ruler of the Realm Unseen,

Hail the King, Porphyrogene.'

There was no point in turning back. There was a large brass ring attached to the front of the iron door. The door looked heavy, but it gave way with a simple push. Beyond was something I could not describe, a scene that was hazy and distant as if I were dreaming it up. A lone stone throne sat in the centre of the chamber, upon which sat a spectre, a King for he wore a crown made of teeth, and his body was not human and his face was distorted, unclear, ineffable. The music blared all around the chamber, discordant echoes like slivers of ice down my spine, like metal spikes through my head. And I could make them out too, the spirits dancing all around the throne, they laughed and skipped, and they held out their hand, inviting you to join in... and so I did, and soon the music did not seem so dissonant, and the spirits looked like regular boys and girls, and the King looked familiar, as if I'd seen his photograph before...a long time ago.