Written by Nohbodee
Cecelia
Rivertown Warehouse District
The historic and notorious Perry’s manor was three stories high and had been abandoned for nearly seventeen years. It has since been built into the Rivertown’s Warehouse District. Ghost stories were told about the old house. Ones about demons, death gods, and a six-year-old girl who went missing.
If you asked the owner of the tea shop across the street, Mrs. Henry, about the old Perry House, you’ll likely end up with a door in your face or her husband’s shotgun — something that happened to a dim-witted reporter who asked Mrs. Henry, rather crudely, if the Perry’s really sacrificed people in the basement of the house.
“Well you saw the pictures, didn’t you? The Detroit News, blasting them all over the front page. You should be ashamed of yourselves! A child is still missing! For all we know, they sacrificed her, too!” And then, poor old Mrs. Henry would burst into tears, propelling her husband into action with his loaded rifle in hand.
Even the Ex-Army bar owner, Reggie Kalamath, who operated his business in the old building next door didn’t like talking about the Perry’s or their manor. In fact, he had been working on having the thing demolished — that is, until someone moved into it — infuriating him further about the matter.
“Ghosts,” the regulars at Reggie’s bar would tell visitors who drifted in and asked about the beautiful building next door. “Evil ones!” they’d say. “Oh! You’re so full of it!” visitors would shake away the ghost stories, but they were chilled nonetheless by the notion.
“He isn’t. No doubt they’d been teaching that little girl their evil ways, too. Though, of course nobody will ever know as she’s still missing,” Reggie muttered darkly as he poured everyone another round. “Such a beautiful child, she was, too. Wasn’t she, Charlie?” Reggie looked to the oldest of his regulars — whom had, in fact, been the Perry’s mail man all those years ago.
“Porcelain skin. Long, raven hair and those burning amber eyes. A little spooky, but she was kind of a spooky girl. Had a walk about her like she was always walking in her dreams.” Charlie would agree darkly, making the drifters uncomfortable at the thought.
However, the spooky girl wasn’t missing at all. Cecelia Perry was standing before the Perry Manor with a feeling of unease. She had inherited the property and the Perry’s assets when she was eighteen, but the idea of actually living in the manor felt like a daunting task.
She was only six when Mr. Perry made her leave. — “Don’t let them catch you!” — he had yelled, over and over, frightening her more than she already had been.
She remembered how he put on her backpack and laced her tennis shoes, repeating over and over that she can’t be caught. He yelled at her until she was in tears and running down the street.
There had been woods, but as she looked around — at the warehouses that had seemed to grow while she was away — and thought, maybe, she had made up that part.
That fact did not ease her anxiety. She had to return; despite the fact she was more afraid than when she was homeless in Detroit. She needed to make sense of what happened.
The Perry’s had never been unkind to her, but yet there were people that had evidence to prove that the Perry’s were evil occult leaders. She had been shown the pictures. They were horrific. Thirty-seven bodies altogether. Old ones. And fresh ones, still decomposing in barrels of acidic fluid.
The police never got a confession out of them. They killed themselves with a shotgun before they could be taken in. She didn’t know they were dead for nearly five years after she ran away. Initially, it had destroyed her, but then she discovered the truth.
For the first six years, after the Perry’s forced her to leave, she hid in a forest, eating fruit and sometimes fish if she caught one. She didn’t know how to start a fire, so she ate them raw.
Cecelia didn’t remember her time in the woods very well and couldn’t find them again. She tended to block out those times, anyways. There was a cave, too, but just like the woods she lived in, it was lost.
There was a cold wind that swirled within the dense fog around the property. It licked her face in clammy wisps. She pulled her jacket closer to herself.
The movers were loading in the last of her boxes when she noticed a blue blanket hiding in the tall grass in the front yard. She stepped from the cobblestone walkway and onto the lawn. She bent and picked up the tattered cloth. It was a faded blue and weather beaten. There was a white stitched name on the corner of the blanket. Cecelia.
Holding the blanket in her hand, she felt a terrible dizziness come over — “Cecelia, run! They’ll kill you!” — Cecelia was running…running so long and so far….scared of the moving wind…scared of the eyes of little animals watching her…..the woods called to her…. Cecelia shook herself and held the blanket close to her.
She felt strange.
She never realized just how long it had been since someone lived in this place. The house felt…undisturbed, since that terrible night. Even the relator confessed that every potential buyer he had brought to the property felt a bad energy about the place.
Especially, after he told them how many people were killed on the property — though, Cecelia suspected he probably hadn’t been entirely truthful on the number. He hadn’t been honest with her when she first met him. He only mentioned the Perry’s deaths and their last three sacrifices.
In fact, the occult aspect of her adoptive parent’s case left him with only one potential buyer. A paranormal investigator. She never got the chance to meet him, but she had seen his TV show. A load of bullshit, she always thought, but entertaining, nonetheless. According to the realtor, he was not a happy camper losing the house, as it was hers by inheritance.
Besides, the Perry’s had so much money that later went to her, she could probably outbid Bill Gates if it had come to that. It was so much money that she had been under investigation.
She supposed having her parents corrupted lawyers by her side was helpful. They had known her parents intimately and that left her weary of them. She suspected that they had a fascination with the occult as much as the Perry’s had.
When the movers had finished bringing in all her furniture and belongings — which wasn’t much — she closed and locked the front door behind them. As she stepped into the kitchen to begin unpacking, a black cat jumped down from one of the cupboards and landed directly into her arms.
She almost screamed but she recognized the creature almost immediately. The cat purred wildly and refused to be let down. Cecelia stood there, looking down at the cat and started to laugh. “Lucifer?” Cecelia said, pulling the cat into a warm embrace. “You must be about to croak, you old thing.”
She smiled as she scratched behind his ears. He was furry but malnourished and had a peculiar twitch in his eye when he looked at her. She set him down on the counter and went to the kitchen sink to turn on the faucet.
He slurped hungrily at the water.
She’d have to go into town to pick up some cat food. Cecelia explored the rest of the house, putting things away as she went. However, she found herself avoiding the master bedroom and the basement.
The basement, she planned to have it filled with cement and turned into a tiny hall closet. She knew now what the Perry’s had been doing down there.
She saw the pictures of the occult paraphernalia and the satanic altar.
She saw the pictures of all the blood. She couldn’t stand to think of their murderous hands putting her down to sleep at night, knowing what they were doing to other human beings.
All she could think to do was bury it.
When she finished unpacking, which didn’t seem to take any time at all, she finally decided to peek into the Perry’s old bedroom. Everything was gone. The camera and the chests of torture devices.
How peculiar to look at her childhood through the eyes of someone with a different perspective.
She felt she ought to have known better, but then she reminded herself that she had been six years old. She had been spared. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, she thought. She hated that saying. But she understood.
The Perry’s, as she could remember them, had never hurt her or were cruel to her. It was only when she managed to get a hold of The Perry’s police file, did she discover how evil they really had been.
To Cecelia, the house did feel haunted. Haunted by something more than just the ghosts of its vicious past. By demons. By Satan himself. And yet…this was the only place she’d rather be.
She paced the house till the sun went down. She peeked over at the bar, which was packed, and felt her stomach growl. It was decided. She would go over and try the local cuisine and then unpack her bathroom and take a bath. She dressed in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, grabbed her wallet from her purse and tucked it into the back pocket.
She locked the front door, pausing, as if hearing something — then she moved away and made her way to the bar next door.
She found that she enjoyed the smells and the band playing a familiar bluegrass tune. She sat down in a booth and was immediately greeted by a tired looking woman, her nametag read: Macy. She handed Cecelia the menu and disappeared after getting the drink order.
Cecelia rubbed her shoulders as she looked around. It was definitely packed. She thought, maybe, with travelers. Then she saw him. She moved uncomfortably in her chair, as his eyes dark penetrated the dimness around them. He had his arm wrapped around a beautiful blonde, who was kissing his neck.
Cecelia smirked and turned down her eyes.
The waitress came around with her drink and when she looked back at the dark man, the woman and him were gone. Cecelia shrugged and took a deep sip of her soda. Once she received her food, pretty close to inhaling it, left double what she owed and headed towards the bathrooms.
When she entered the bathroom, muffled noises were coming from one of the open stalls. Cecelia couldn’t help it. She peered into the larger of the stalls and saw the blonde woman, faced against the wall, her skirt lifted up and the dark man thrusting inside her repeatedly.
Cecelia watched for a second, catching the dark man’s eyes, crinkled into a smile and then the woman screamed out in ecstasy. Cecelia blinked and hurried out of the bathroom.
She rested against the wall of the hallway and laughed. She felt silly just laughing there alone, so she made her way towards the exit. When she reached the cool air, she paused again and breathed in deeply.
Her thighs were warm and flushed. She feared that fact showed on her face, because some of the people that were leaving were watching her. She held in a chuckle and walked back to her house.
Already eventful, she thought.
