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A confession of GuiltAug 01 '02 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line The final say on a double murder and arson.
Those self-proclaimed “experts” from the hospital have forced this pen into my hands. They think I will admit to the crimes they believe I have committed if they leave me here, with my thoughts and paper to pour them on to. HA! Those fools know nothing, I am guilty of no crime, and if they looked upon me in cold light, ignoring my story, they would see I am sane. So I will frustrate them further by merely retelling that which they know. My associates and I were known as “Seemingly Unseen” and we claimed to be paranormal investigators. Far from possessing any supernatural powers of any sort we instead chose to indulge the whims of the superstitious and gullible, of which many were to be found. Charging a great deal for our services, and never being in need of customers all three of us were on our way to being rich men indeed. Our actual services fluctuated, depending on the needs of the customer, occasionally exorcising, often holding séances and on the night I speak of just plain old house sitters. Naturally there was a catch, and the house we were to sit was reputedly haunted. That was our job, stay in the house, record the activity inside and, if necessary, exorcise the demonic presence. The person, a Mr. Slane, was paying us £1000 a piece to stay in the house. This high price was because the house was old and decrepit and would never take a job that would place us directly at risk without the proper incentive., Besides he wished to sell it. Rumours persist and it was our job to disprove them. So myself, Mills and Holland set off. We entered at around 7:30 pm on the evening of Dec 12 1994 and began to set up our equipment. Why would we require equipment of any sort, being the con artists we were? Well our client that evening had requested proof of our activities, so we had brought various things to provide effects and a video camera and tape recorder. We were fully set up and filming around 8pm. At 11 a thunderstorm began. How could our stay in the haunted house be complete without the requisite storm of biblical proportions! Lightning hit the outside generator and we were plunged in to darkness. No light. As I mentioned the house was ready to be condemned. I had prepared however and after some fumbling lit some candles. With light restored I noticed that Mills had rather stealthily disappeared during the darkness. Holland was also mystified and we decided he must be “indisposed”. Yet he had still not resurfaced at midnight, so we set off to look for him, fearing him to have been injured by some rotting part of the establishment. I took the upstairs landing, while Holland searched the downstairs. After searching for what I assume was twenty to thirty minutes I noticed an acute silence had enveloped the house. All movement had apparently stopped downstairs, as the sounds I associated with Holland’s search had ceased. I began to ponder the strangeness of what was happening to our party. Two members had seemingly disappeared and all sound (including the storm) had stopped. How queer. Suddenly I very badly wanted to find my two companions and so briskly walked downstairs. As I approached the top landing of the staircase I realised there was a sound within the walls, besides those that I made. An odd sound, perhaps that which is made when one drags a heavy object across the floor, but with a wetness to it, as if this object was being dragged through heavy set mud. As I came to the bottom floor, it stopped. I quickly rounded the corner into the main parlour. Within I saw Holland, face down on the floor. I spoke to him, my voice rising as I approached and my panic grew. I turned him over and screamed. His face was shrivelled and devoid form, as if all liquid had been taken from the skin and the face crushed under a great pressure. If one is familiar with the shrunken heads of ledged it resembled a much larger one of them Then that unholy sound began again, this time behind me. Turning I was at first elevated with hope for it was the lost Mills. But he was also changed. His eyes were gone, and from the empty sockets many pulsating disgusting tentacles writhed in the air. I then felt a gripping and draining sensation from my hand and was distressed to see that Mills’s fingers had also been replaced by those fractures of nature and were in the process of draining my hand! I had little choice but to use my pocket knife to sever my already useless hand and run to the door. Oh that I had not looked back then, for even though I disagree with the doctors of this wretched place, I feel that my sanity my hang by threads from what I saw.The tentacles it seemed, or indeed whatever thing from the dark corners of our universe had placed them in my poor friend, had decided he had outlived his usefulness. For as I watched they crushed his head and he crumpled to the floor. What became of them without a vessel I do not know for I then fled to establishment, only pausing to burn that place of evil to the ground. That was how I was found the next day, huddled in a ball in an ally near the still smoking mansion. The gasoline was still on my fingers. My “jabbering” about tentacles from other universes certainly ensured my incarceration in this asylum. Oh well. At least I have my partners share of the money and the business’ assets, mine to enjoy when I am released.  |
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