A/N This is a short Gothic Fairy tale I had to write for school, so tell me what you think! And I know...it's not very Gothic but shhh!
The three brothers didn't know what was coming for them. It was a being, a body, a beast. Once the first brother's blood is spilt nothing but the end of the other two shall placate it. It's restless, relentless, and reckless. The beast is malignant and though the signs are there, men are blind. Blind because they don't see it approaching. If they did they'd run before the elongated claws snared them and before the enticing call made them swoon and defenseless.
This was the third house in a month the three round rich men were moving into. The first house was large and extensive, many Villagers would often complain for their parties were too loud and their lights too bright. But what the Villagers didn't know was that it was a façade. The large amounts of ale were used in attempt to distract the men's minds from what awaited them each night.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
After many sleepless nights, the greedy brothers finally acknowledged the impending darkness. They made the hopeless decision of moving to yet another large house in a happy town with exuberant townsfolk. Come the day of the move only two brothers left. Many people believe the move was for the brothers to boast their wealth and heritage but only the brothers understood why. There were more doors to hide behind. More corners to cower in, and more beds to avoid come the time night is bestowed across the land. However what they didn't realise was that there were now more shadows that dance, more statues that stumble and more walls that cough and wheeze throughout the night.
Little Pigs, little pigs.
Abruptly in the cobble stone dining room, a glass of the finest red wine seeped into the pores of the white silk table cloth, marring its beauty. Only one of the brothers was there to witness this sight. Dumbfounded, he called for his brother. Immediately they felt the room drain of all warmth, left with only the lingering memories of earlier festivities, and the eerie feeling of danger. The first brother snorted with alarm whilst the other squealed with fear. Once they'd hushed they listened, prayed and begged. For once though it seemed as if the darkness abated, perhaps hearing the relentless begging. That was what the brothers chose to believe. When the piercing moon was at its highest, trees stood still and the lights went out. Upon noticing this, the townsfolk pondered why.
Perhaps someone should check on them? But with that thought came a persistent noise from the large house. It started out as a whisper, barely audible, and then a long mournful cry filled the air. The townsfolk were in uproar. They were plagued with a restless night as the calamity continued.
Come morning only one of the brothers walked out the doors, never to return. He took no possessions, just the clothes on his back. He wandered for many hours bearing the weight of what he had witnessed on his shoulders.
When the sun was at its highest the hunched over brother lifted his wrinkled and weary eyes to gaze upon a grand building. Its grey brick walls were garnished with moss, and weeds struggled to break free from cracks. Row upon row of hollowed out windows were strategically placed on the walls, and a spire rose from a central turret like a lighthouse, warning people away. But the man pressed forward although every cell in his body protested. A weathered, oak door greeted the brother with a tired groan. Inside, the décor was ostentatious, velvet carpets coated the floor. Dusted paintings hung precariously on the walls. A stone staircase spiraled up only to be stopped by crumpled and absent steps. The brother nodded and encased himself in a four walled room tucked in a corner, anticipating the long night ahead.
Darkness coated the land with the odd start placed at intervals, but not bright enough to make the darkness flee.
Let me in.
The knocking on the doors began when all candles were extinguished. Light couldn't save the last greedy brother now, as every nerve in his body became a live-wire. The darkness couldn't cloak him, but it would serve the entity which he shrinks back from.
It always started like this. At first the knocking began, then the crashing of doors joins, later the whisper of household objects flying across the room infiltrated, until the screams commenced creating a symphony. One beautiful song that filled with dread and terror and slight awe. The only difference tonight was that the lone man abandoned his crosses and pleas, even the Bible; it was an act of betrayal and disrespect in the worst way. Instead he embraced his gruesome fate, and welcomed the devil and all its sin.
When morning drew again the grand house stood no more, nor did the last brother. Instead, in its placed was rubble laced with blood and bones.