The things that happen behind these doors.

Mason Mansion

Star's POV.

My family had lived in the Mason mansion ever since it's construction in 1902, and were it to collapse over our heads tomorrow we'd still remain living among the rubble without so much as a hint of grievance. I wish I could attribute this to some deep rooted sense of commitment to our ancestry but the fact of the matter is that we can never leave. Percival Mason was a gullible man who was tricked into buying this infertile plot of soil with the promise of an untapped oil deposit hidden beneath the surface. He dug for weeks on end, oblivious to the fool he was making of himself, encouraged by the village idiot, a leper draped in ragged red robes. How the following events transpired after this point was unclear even to us, as all record of the incident were lost in a house fire many years ago. But the fruit of his labour was an unexpected as it is unearthly, and somehow we were blessed with gift of Othersight. Sometimes also known as Witch-blinking or Nictomacy (from the Latin ''nictos'') it granted us the ability to behold that which should remain invisible to mortal minds. Mother used to say that the human eye is like a kaleidoscope distorting our perception of reality while Othersight allows us to pierce the prism to get a glimpse of the truth. A shrine was built in the catacombs below to honour our benefactor, but we soon came to realise that neither it , nor it's favour were in anyway holy. For that which had dragged itself out of the bottomless pit was an abhorrent beast, a writhing dreg of filth an miasma lurking the sodden mines under our feet. The foul wailing of the abomination grew louder with every passing day as it crept it's way through the tunnels, and thus it became our burden to never allow it to reach the outside world. Every few years we would spy a slithering shadow beneath the floorboards, and the eldest among us would head down to confront the thing in the basement, never to return. With my mother and father gone, the task of keeping the Mason scourge at bay now lays upon me. I bid farewell to my husband and children with what little composure I could muster and, without daring to look back, I Descended into the shadows of the old cellar...Descending into the pit of a cellar, the scent of damp air and rust settle in my nose. The walls used to be a pearl resembling white- now the paint had chipped away and the metallic walls were covered in a discomforting vermillion tinge. Despite the lack of tarting up the walls had received, An old portrait of Holy Mother Saint Asfrodia still hung proudly on them..although the face had distorted itself over the time as it'd been left there without any tending to. As I walked further down my torch set on door- something about it was off. I decided to pursue my path to said door. It was as I was a few paces from the door that I began to have the sensation of being watched- watched and silently followed. I spun around and shone my torch behind myself, for the windows had ended here and the corridor was pitch dark. There was no one. I went quietly back a few yards, stopped and waited, straining his ears through the silence. Perhaps the wood settled every now and again, perhaps a board creaked. Perhaps they did not. I waited again, and then said in a low voice "who is there?" There was no reply and, impatient with myself and my imaginings, I turned back and went again to the ..freshly painted?.. door.I expected it to be locked, like the rest but it swung open slowly to my touch, so that , involuntarily, I jumped back. The sensation of being watched was stronger now and my nerves were on edge and I cursed myself for a fool, not to have remained in my bed, where I would surely by now have been peacefully asleep. But My curiosity grew, for I was drawn to examine the cellar where I planned to be guarding, for the next few days, and beginning to be consumed by the grave, discomforting aura of this ancient place. I stepped inside, and stood, letting my eyes grow accustomed to the change of light. I found myself in a room that stretched ahead of me into the gloom. But there was enough of the soft, snow-reflected light coming in through the tall windows for me to have a view of a vast gallery, that ran the whole way around, rising towards the vaulted and pearly white ceiling. I felt no fear, rather a sense of awe, as if I had entered some church or chapel...

Or so I thought.. Just before i dropped. The very instant I took a step forward and plunged into the abyss something shattered inside of me. My whole life I'd been dreading this moment. To plummet down the endless void, shrouded in black. What a horrible way to die-

My mind was a frenzied beehive of macabre thoughts I can no longer regress. My Mother's broken fingers clawing at the tunnel wall's desperately trying to find a gripping point. The echoes of my father's breathless cough as he choked to death. A cup of poisoned tea in the reflection of my husband's eyes. Firm hands closing around my daughter's neck. Oh- what I wouldn't do to spare them from the suffering- 

Amid this maelstrom of torment, I was struck by a momentary glimpse of enlightenment. At the bottom of this accursed chasm awaits no paradise, but the famished lips of a beast who knows that the faint light of candles signal it's next banquet. As the darkness took hold of what was left of my sanity, I clamoured at my one last thought to what ever might be hiding in the shadows:

I would not go gentle into that good night.

And when the echo faded, all that remained was the settling dust....

Good morning, after noon, evening or night Gadies And Lentlemen! <3 hope you enjoyed that little slither of my sanity slipping away :D but this is not just a one part story! there's a chapter two coming out! then I shall move onto the 3rd person stuff with possible some fluffy Stean moments with their children! Looking forward to writing it :)//