What Lies Beneath

Prologue

In a small town just outside of Connecticut sits a large property. Twenty-three acres to be exact. It is not a farm, or the home of a very rich man. The man who lives there is kind and loving. He shares his home with strangers who become friends. His daughter runs throughout the grounds laughing all day. She reminds him of his late wife in so many ways.

The house that they live in sits on the middle of the property. It is quite a large home. It has twenty-nine bedrooms and twenty-seven bathrooms. It sits at three stories tall and has a basement. It is in good condition. The people staying there offer their services around the large home in appreciation for a place to stay.

Over the years people leave, and the place grows quiet. The daughter grows into a fine young lady. She doesn't run as much, and her once childish laughter has now turned into flirtatious giggles. The man grows solemn and angry. Staying at the weathered home is a nurse, a writer, and two farm hands. One of the farm hands has a son about the girls age and they are constantly running off together.

The nurse is taking secret lessons in witchcraft from the writer who, through her studies and travels, has grown to become quite the practitioner of magic. The two farm hands try to keep the house up, but it is too much work for just them.

One night, the man drunkenly wanders around the property looking for his daughter. As he passes the shed, he hears giggling and soft whispers. His face twists with rage. He pushes the doors open to find his young beautiful daughter with the farm hands son. They lay on top of a blanket, their shirts discarded.

The once silent night is now filled with angry screams. The main house, a little over a mile away, rushes to life. No one leaves, however. All they can hear are the screams of the owner. They would later describe them as animalistic.

To the two in the shed however, they were the most terrifying words and sounds that they had ever heard. The man rushed at his daughter and brutally yanked her up from the floor by her wrist. She screamed and protested, scratching at her father's arm. He didn't let go, if anything his grip only got tighter. He dragged her out of the shed and into the open air. She used her free hand to cover her exposed chest as he pulled her along behind him. Her sobs now filled the empty space.

The boy in the shed sat there stunned for what seemed like an eternity. He ended up waiting out the night in that small dark room, afraid that if he left, that the man might kill him. He regretted this choice later.

When the sun came out in the morning, the people in the house went down for breakfast, none of them talking about the sounds that they had heard during the night. The two farm hands decided to go searching for the young children after noticing their absence at breakfast. The father of the young boy was the first out the door and therefore was the first to see the man lying unconscious at the foot of the stairs that led up to the house.

Sadly, this had become a normal occurrence for the owner of the house in recent years. He would often spend all night drinking and then be too drunk, or tired to make it up the stairs and into the house. However, this morning was different than all the others. The man who laid unconscious at the bottom of the stairs that day was covered in blood.

The two farm hands rushed to his aid. They shook him until he woke and then helped him up the stairs and onto the rickety old porch swing that sill hung there lifelessly. They checked him over for any wounds that could cause this much bleeding, but the only marks that they could find on him were the scratches on his forearm that his daughter had made the night before when she had tried to get away from him.

The two men questioned the blood-stained man about what had happened, but all they got from him were incoherent mumbles about how she had made him do it. The men soon realizing that they weren't going to get a clear answer from him, decided to search the property. The first place that they ended up at was the well. The once beautifully white well was now covered in spurts of red blood. They checked all around, and in it, but they didn't find anyone, or a body.

They followed the small trail of blood to the pond that sat on the property. In the middle of the water sat a fountain that they had never seen before. The farm hand, whose son was missing, left the other farm hand who stood at the edge of the water staring at the fountain as it poured red water into the now pink pond.

It didn't take long for the farm hand to find the shed. He knew that his son liked to spend his days there with the owner's daughter. He braced himself, afraid of what he might find. He called his son's name as he pushed the heavy doors open. There was no reply. He called his name again when he was in the shed. There wasn't much light in the dark space, but he knew that his son had hidden an oil lamp inside for when he would spend his days hiding from the owner with his daughter. He had reached the middle of the room before he stumbled over a loose object in his path.

The man felt around the floor for what had caused him to be so clumsy. He sighed in relief as he felt the cool metal surface of the oil lamp. He fumbled for the switch in the dark, but finally he found it. With a click light emanated from the small flame within and the shed was illuminated. The man stood up and slowly turned in a small circle as he did a quick look around the room. He stumbled back with a start, almost dropping the lamp in the process, when he saw his son.

The young boy sat frozen in terror between a shelf and the wall. If the man didn't have the lamp, then he might not have ever seen him.

Back at the house, the two women watched the man as he silently swayed back and forth on the swing. Neither of them dared to get too close to him. His face was now twisted once again. Only this time, it wasn't anger that did it. No, the look on his face was one of pure satisfaction.