Chapter Three - Under the Stairs
After her fuck session in the garden and her midnight ride, Jennifer was exhausted and slept until noon. She was awakened by the phone ringing.
"Hello," she answered groggily.
"Hello," said a male voice at the other end. "Am I speaking to Miss Jennifer Marlowe?"
"That is me, acknowledged Jennifer trying to wake up.
My name is Winston Dawson. I am a layer in Palmerville. This may sound a bit strange," said the lawyer, "but I have a package for you. "
"I don't understand why a lawyer would have a package for me. "
"It is rather difficult to explain," said Dawson sounding a bit sheepish. "Would you be able to come to my office this afternoon at 3?"
Jennifer agreed and hung up. She had a shower, ate and then decided to take another look at the garden in the bright sunlight. Her memories of last night were quite vivid still and she wondered what on earth had possessed her. What if someone recognized her in town from her nude ride? How could she ever show her face there again and she had just agreed to meeting someone in town. In daylight, however, everything seemed so mundane. The three that had raped her was just a plain old oak tree not some erotic vine slithering specimen of unknown origin. The statue of the horse was still there and very much an erect presence, but it was only a statue, stone and unmoving. With a sigh Jennifer made her way back to the house and then drove into town to meet with the lawyer.
"As I said on the phone, this is ah rather awkward and hard to explain," said Mr. Dawson when Jennifer was ushered into his office. Dawson was a balding man of 50 with a nervous twitch in one eye. "This law firm has been existed for four generations of Dawson. It was founded by my great grandfather and this request goes back to his time."
"I am afraid I don't understand," replied Jennifer.
"Er, well it is about this," said Dawson and he pulled a battered package from his desk drawer and placed it on the flat surface in front of them. "My great grandfather was given this parcel by Samantha Lee, the original owner of the house you bought. What is rather umm, strange is that the package is addressed to you and it came with instructions for me to phone you at precisely noon today. "
"Addressed to me?" said a puzzled Jennifer. "Surely you mean to the owner of the house on this date, because even I didn't know I was going to buy the house until last month. "
"No, I mean you personally," said Mr. Dawson. He pushed the package across the desk to her. "As you can see it is addressed to Miss Jennifer Marlowe at your current address. "Jennifer was speechless but finally reached out and took the parcel and then stood up to leave, feeling suddenly in a panic. Mr. Dawson look a bit disappointed and Jennifer realized that he had been curious as to what the package contained.
"I would rather open it in private Mr. Dawson, but I am very grateful for the dedicated service of you and your firm. Perhaps I will be able to tell you what was in the parcel at a future meeting. "Dawson nodded his thanks and Jennifer left his office and stepped out onto the main street of Palmerville. Jennifer was thinking about the package so hard she nearly ran into someone and stopped when she saw it was the librarian she had met the day before.
"Hello my dear," said the librarian. "I heard some people in town talking about a new Lady Godiva riding through town last night. They said she was rather a busty blonde. Quite a coincidence don't you think after our talk yesterday?"
"Oh I am sure that is all it is," replied Jennifer, "a coincidence. Perhaps those people had a bit too much too drink and beside I don't have a horse!"With that Jennifer hurried away, eager to get away from the penetrating gaze of the librarian and eager to see what the parcel contained.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Jennifer stared at the package for sometime. She was dying of curiosity and at the same time filled with fear and apprehension over what she might find inside. Finally curiosity won and she carefully opened the package. Inside was a book, or to be more precise, a diary. With shaking hands, Jennifer opened it to the title page.
Oh my, this diary might hold the key to what had happened to her the last two nights. With trembling hands, Jennifer turned the page and began to read.
It has been one week since I moved into this house that I had built for me. I picked the location of the house after months of careful research and I have implemented my plan. Alas, I fear my plan has gone horribly awry and I write this journal as a record of my actions and mistakes. Since the tragic death of my husband Charles, I have sought out any and all occult methods to try and contact him. A book of magic I found in New Orleans led me to this house and my plan. This house stands on the site of an ancient massacre and the book says that such a place will have a weakening of the wall between this world and the netherworld. The spell in the book promised to allow me to peer beyond that wall and once again make contact with my beloved Charles but it was all a lie. The spell did indeed help bridge the gulf between this world and another world, but it was a world of demons and other vile creatures. The spell allowed them to come through the void between the worlds. They are confined to this house and can manifest only after midnight, but they have possessed all manner of inanimate objects and employ them to vile and degrading uses. They hunger for sex and god help me, I have been raped every night by some perverse thing. But can I truly call it rape? When it happens a horrible lust overtakes me and I find myself participating in the act and enjoying it. I think perhaps it is part of the spell that forces me to stay and to even enjoy the degrading things that are being done to me.
