Night at Phasmatis Castle

I was writhing in the mud as I could not elevate my feet and they were made of led. I choked on my own inhalation as I tried to gulp in more and more; exhausted as though I had ran across the whole of England. I had been walking for hours on a pilgrimage to Canterbury in hopes that the city would bring me salvation and fresh opportunities; to sort out my already impoverished lifestyle. I was travelling by foot as I came from an extremely poor family who could only barely pay for food and clothes. My family and I were strong believers of the Christian faith and I was going to strengthen my belief on this trip. But I had no idea that in this story, my faith would probably be weakened. I had to find somewhere to reside and sleep through the night as I could see the sunrise leisurely dying to make way for the immortal night’s power which swiftly swept through the air, mystifying the land. It was getting dark and rain felt like it was piercing my flesh like silver bullets raining down from the sky. It rapidly drenched every inch of my tired futile body. Water trickled down my forehead and into my eyes, making my vision hazy. It was neither helped by the thick layers of fog like misty walls of ice blocking everything from sight. As I climbed the serrated rocks, like spikes, which scored deeply into my skin, an outlandish odour met my nose of decomposing animals. It was nauseating. It seemed as though every wave of treacherous weather and terrain was deliberately made to stop me from going any further; battering my withered figure to the ground. My whole body was numb from the blisteringly cold winds which I tried slashing through, like I would an army, waving my arms hopelessly in determination. The pain was agonising and it coursed through every inch of my skin, rooted there… never ending. I was sore and bloody. The torture did not end there. Lightning striked down a tree which sent it crashing down on fire, an inferno which spread like the Black Death. It was followed by the deafening sound of the rumbling thunder. Every step was anguish, but I knew I had to carry on. I desperately tried to do the arduous task of lifting my head. I slowly gazed around the landscape. This time though I could not see anything. The lurid fog against the pitch black sky was blocking my sight. There was only one thing to do. Run. I raced into the unknown, panting like an excited dog, running long strides over the sharp rocks and damp mud. There was something worse though. The whole world stopped around me as I heard an ear piercing scream and then the demented cackling of a sick, twisted old man. The noise made me shiver, fear rippling down my spine. I thought for a second. Who else could possibly be out here in the wilderness, when it is this dangerous? At that time though, I did not know that my inquisitive mind would soon bring my doom. Finally I could see a clearing in the fog like a gateway to freedom.

My senses also cleared and I was astonished to see a black castle, surrounded in darkness and an eerie mist. Also the weather abruptly calmed and cleared until all that could be heard was the gentle pattering of the replenishing rain which calmed me down. Relief swarmed through my body, warming the muscles, like I had just sunk in a hot bath. The castle however cast a shadow over the land sending it in almost total darkness. It reached towards heaven with many turrets and towers. The stone walls were crumbling and worn down and not even noticing the bizarre situation I was in, still had to admire the evil, hellish style architecture as though transfixed. My mind soon came back to me and noticed the many stone gargoyles, strewn with cobwebs which were lining the tower roofs like soldiers. I could see them glaring at me in the moonlight. The architectural detail were at such archaic, weird angles and shapes, that it came across quite frightening. I lit a lantern so I could see. After one minute of checking my surroundings, I got the feeling that I was being watched. The feeling prickled down my neck like a thistle. Panic stricken I swerved around, beads of sweat, running down my forehead. Then the lantern I was holding, burnt out. The leftover smoke wafted into the night sky, like a ghost floating away. Again I could feel the icy cold, seeping through the air. The controlled tap taps of footsteps approaching. The heavy breathing and water vapour on my shoulder. I turned round and screamed, loud enough for the whole world to hear… it was bloodcurdling. My screams were cut short as a heavy force swiped at my head. I lay unconscious on the floor. Soon to wake up to an absolute nightmare in which I would be trapped. Alone.

I was shrouded in blackness, feeling like I was drifting through space, unaware of anything. I was not a breath of life. Every muscle in my body…Still. But then I saw it. A blinding light, beaming gloriously in the far away distance. The fear of death, tormenting my beaten head; chasing me like a demented poltergeist. I could not bear it. Was this the end? Would all my years of toil and sacrifice be for no reason? Would my munificent character be forgotten about by all the people I love and care for? Not knowing what to do I staggered backwards, then started to crawl further and further from the light, it getting smaller and smaller as I went. I hid from the face of death which loomed in the distance in front of me. Finally there was a swirling mist behind me. It sparkled and twirled like a shooting star. My first impulsive reaction was to step into it. The affliction of my body that followed, spasm-like twanging as though someone was playing a guitar with my ribs, was like torture. I grabbed my heart as I endured it. But as quickly as the pain had come, it stopped. The scenery around me was fading into sight again. But it was soon I realised that I was no longer outside…but in a cold, stone room. Then, shivering with fear, as I felt a gusty breeze on my back I heard scuttling and a hairy, tingling sensation on my face. My eyes finally adjusted to the lighting and stopping dead in my tracks, found, crawling on my face, eight legs spiking my head, a spider. In a thrashing panic, I cast the spider across the room. It stared menacingly at me, hate in its eyes. I watched as it raced through a crack in the wall, never to be seen again.

My bones ached as though hammers were knocking at them, weakening me as I slowly hoist myself onto my feet, head lulling from side to side like I was deceased. It woefully hit me in the face that I was inside the mysterious castle. There was an ancient piece of parchment attached to my neck. I began to unravel the worn down parchment, curious of what was inside. As each side was unfolded, more daunting letters were revealed. Each one could be a glimmer of hope or a shadow of despair. The last bit was unfolded and my eyes traced the words. They rang inside my head, sweat pouring down my face. Not did a glimmer of hope meet my eyes, but a tormenting shadow of despair. I read the words one more time, but they would not change. The words read; Vos es mortuus. Having a particular fondness with the language of Latin, the words dawned upon me. It was at that moment that I saw in front of me; a shadow of a scruffy man set against the damp gleaming stone wall. I immediately sank, deep into a corner of room that I found myself in, heart thumping rapidly, drawing in more and more oxygen as I waited in utter silence for the horror that was about to go past where I lay. The shadow was as vivid as it could get like a nightmare. The sound of footsteps that followed filled my ears like ringing bells. But no figure appeared. Only the shadow crept past the ugly doorway. I thought I was going mad. Why was I in this terrifying place? Why could I smell the foul stench of death? I got the sense that I was not alone. All the questions that circled my head, little did I know that the answers were in the dark abyss which was outside the door. At the time I needed to get out. Building up all the courage and bravery I had left. My feet picked me up and began to walk out of the room taking light steps, careful not to make a noise. But then I tripped on something. It was a long rusty dagger, damp with blood. It poised in my hand, tempting me to use it. My expression twisted into one of terror. I quickly pocketed it. It was not until I stepped out into the darkened hallways, damned with the musty smell of stone and cobwebs, draping from the towering ceiling that I noticed the state of my body. My skin was pure white and wrinkly. It was necrotized. I looked like a dead corpse. My clothes were also torn and bloody. However my venture round the castle had just begun. Not a sound could be heard except the dripping of frosty water and ominous whispers travelling through the tunnels from the deep dark depths of the castle. They were whispers of danger and screams of terror which to me was a dark omen of what was to come. They shrieked inside my head relentlessly, making my journey a living hell. The voices sounded like they were from behind me, but when I turned round, there was nothing to be seen.

I was terrified. I felt like I was being followed. I was completely lost. In this castle I felt like the most nominal form there. The strange noises that could be heard made me agitated and feral like a wild cat. Frequently looking behind my shoulder and analysing my surroundings was beginning to become a chore. None of this would happen and I would not be so alone if my brother came with me. He is the best brother in the world and I was afraid I would never see him again. The ruined tunnels that I treaded through were cramped and dirty. The only source of light I had was a torch I was holding. The chances of freedom I had been progressing to get looked thin. There was no longer much hope for me as I travelled around the tunnels, meeting the same paths and corners. Was there a way out? Panicking I picked up the pace and ran randomly round every tunnel, this time with no fear of not being alone, but the fear of being trapped… I wish there was someone who could release me from the shackles of this castle, but there was no one. The idea caused me grief. Cobwebs got tangled on my clothes as I walked further, breathing heavily, ruining my body and hair. I could hear strange noises of mice squeaking, footsteps and whispers of invisible villagers, speaking of danger and torture. The lurid touch of the cold stone against my rotten skin was unbearable bringing about a cold sweat which grazed the surface of my forehead. The burden of all my equipment was slowing me down as well. The dark debasing expectations of what was to come, I just could not subsist with. The cumulative spec of courage though, which I still held on to, kept me going. My torch, a beacon of hope around these dark passages when all I could smell was death around the next corner and hear danger. It was quite exemplary. As long as I still had a family to get home to and a pilgrimage to go on, I would keep walking.

My feet took me to a wider tunnel, so covered in cobwebs that I could not see the other side. Torches lined the sides of the tunnel. I could see hundreds of tiny spiders, scuttling along the ground. But the worst thing was that the crumbled stone walls were covered in wet, dripping blood which was untidily splattered everywhere and there were chains hanging from the ceiling. Chains which held up a number of corpses. The bodies had there skin ripped off and had a mark burnt into each. It was as I feared. Each of the marks read Vos es mortuus. I stared at the bodies, juddering yet again in absolute terror, the shadows of depression creeping into my mind. The smell was repulsive. The smell of burnt rotted flesh wafted around the tunnel. I desperately tried to get away from it, but it was to overpowering. As I looked up again, a ghastly sight took place before my eyes. One which left me dumbstruck, and which I thought my heart would stop. The lifeless, dangling corpses lulled their heads in my direction, glaring at me with their beady massacred eyes. In unison they all muttered the words Vos es mortuus, again and again, making me go mad in terror. I stumbled backwards, hoping that I could bury my head in the ground and hoping that when I pulled my head out again, I would be dead. But the torture did not stop but only carried on to the bitter end. To the side, behind me, I could hear cackling which shrieked inside my head and footsteps running towards me, even though I could not see anyone who could be making them. I heard them traversing towards my disturbing screams which echoed as though I was in an extensive cave. But then I saw a rusty, dirty knife, suspended in mid air. All of a sudden, it bolted at my face like a horse chasing down a pathetic soldier. I could not do anything but run. As I ran, the cobwebs got in my way, holding me back, me being a helpless fly trapped in coils and coils of web. It was no use. But it was at that moment that I took out the knife I had found and used it to slash my way across, finely cutting at the ropes which tangle round my neck, almost snapping it. As I did so in inept skill, the corpses were kicking me, causing red marks to blotch my skin. I had finally got to the end, but tripped. I instinctively curled up into a ball and prepared for the worse. It was it. I was going to die… But nothing came. No pain. No noise. No nothing. I looked back. There was nothing there, except bare wall. Where had everything gone? I looked round. I was in a different part of the castle.

No longer could I see begrimed stone tunnels, littered with cobwebs, but sleek brazen, grand furniture and expensive luxuries such as works of art and jewellery. Thick layers of dust like sheets of steel covering everything. The many cabinets and scriptures looked like they had not been opened for hundreds of years and green mould was growing over the stone walls, invasively claiming it like tree routes. The most strange and unsettling part of this room was that the fire place was alight; a golden lion skirmishing the dark shadows which danced around this grand room, forcing their way through the fires light. An almighty flame. But who had lit it? I also happened to notice a painting of a man in his sixties. His expression was grim and he looked somewhat evil with his cold hair and hooked nose. His hair was what I only could have expected for someone as badly dressed; it was like a wolfs. Thick and messy. His complexion was wrinkly and white like the sockets of someone’s eyes when he is dying. Also not in my life have I seen a man with such razor like teeth. As I examined the room further, in the corner of my eye, I noticed a book. I slowly walked over to where it lay. I picked it up and began to read, desperately taking in every word that was written. I was engrossed to know that it was a diary entry from 600 years ago. “I am in the living quarters, my servants have been particularly wound up today and I can sense an unruly presence in the castle. Especially my head servant Grevious. He is looking paler than normal today, not very well. He also speaks to me of a hidden tunnel somewhere in the castle, one of which he fails to tell me the location of. He is worrying the villagers of spirits and demons hidden in my castle, which is building up a very bad reputation for me. I think I will fire him. I am also upset at the fact that I was kind enough to paint a picture of him which stands in this very room today. The painting now reminds me of bad memories which it should not.” Further in the book, there were more diary entries, some more bone chilling. I was transfixed as I read, not aware of what was happening around me. Blind of the situation I was in. Noises and strange objects. “Grevious has disappeared today. He just disappeared without a trace. He cannot be found anywhere in the castle or village, even though it has been searched many a time. I am also disturbed to know that ever since his disappearance, strange things have been happening. I swear that I saw one of my books floating in mid air and all kinds of objects are being thrown about. There are constant noises which are keeping me awake during the night. It is beginning to become annoying.” I then skipped to the last page in his diary. The words that I read sent shivers down my spine, as though the room were made of ice. “I am trapped in my bedroom. The whole village has disappeared. I have locked myself in, as corpses are coming after me. They are living dead. They will break through and kill me any moment now. With my last breath I say, run.”

At this point I was quite grateful as the nightmare behind me, the nadir of the tunnels had past. The most petrifying moment in my life. But I feared that a new presence was around which might possibly even be lurking in this very room. I feared that there is worse to come. Maybe I was the new victim. Compared to the tunnels, this new room that the events of the past had led me to was quite welcoming, but still gloomy and dark as the night sky. With some time to think, I contemplated about the supernatural hours I spent in the hollow tunnels. I was beginning to think about the strange messages I had received. What did they mean? I desperately tried to cling to a few good memories in these grave times, making myself go into a state of forgetfulness. The warm of the fire came to me and my limbs convulsed. This rare moment that I was aloud to reflect on incidents was interrupted by the sound of an organ playing, intermingled with the sound of bells. My face went even paler as the first note was sounded. The bells, a knell which signified my end. The organ blasted the roof of the castle, bellowing at its highest volume, a banshee. My ear drums were vibrating in the noise. My head was spinning in the sound frequencies. My mind turned to mush under the sheer pressure of the noise like mud being squashed into a pulp. My vision was impaired. I clutched my brain in agony as tune after tune was played in another room, not far from the one I was in. But as I got used to this aberration, the one at which I began to abhor, the music gradually changed into something beautiful. The music controlled my thoughts and dreams. It was driving me forward like a puppet, towards the source of the wonderful music. But I was not aware in the slightest bit of who was the puppeteer. It skimmed through my mind like a stone through water. It became the most miraculous thing in the world. The most magical feeling in my life. Time stopped as each foot of mine, stepped closer and closer. The eloquent, impeccable notes took over my mind. They took me forward. I gracefully hopped and skipped past the dark stone halls, filled with dirty carpets and rats, like a ballerina, head brushing against the wooden chandeliers. Torches lighting my way, but only in the slightest as it was pitch black. I was not aware of what I was doing. I traversed a section of the castle thinking every corner to lead to my destination. Waiting in anticipation to see the creator of it. My mind drifting off to a far away place. I was a zombie, a fly being drawn in to the light, but only to be shocked and scared in the brusque end, only then aware of you own feelings and toils. But it still happened. I was being entranced; drawn in to a surprising trap. I finally led myself to a large, rough, mahogany door. The morose nature of this crooked door I did not see. It looked flimsy, so one barge with my shoulder sent it flying open.

My eyes sparkled with glee as I stepped inside, like a dog that is following commands. A huge empty room was the room I had been led to by the music which drifted inexplicably around my ears. It was empty apart from a massive organ with many pipes and keys, a wooden coffin and a grand carpet which almost covered the whole floor. I sat there for a few minutes, gazing into oblivion. But suddenly the music got slower and slower, gradually losing pace. No longer did I have a spring in my step or sparkly eyes. My eyes faded into blackness once again. Finally the music stopped. My mind immediately snapped back to me. I did not know where I was. I stumbled around the room, noticing the utter silence and dimness for the first time. All I could remember was the organ playing. The organ was playing, but no one was here. The organ had been playing by itself; or even worse. Why was I in this room? What had happened to me? I was becoming increasingly anxious as I turned my head, staring at the contents of the room; a wolf hunting down it’s pray; concentrating my gaze to see the coffin more closely in the darkness. Then I heard scratching of fingernails on wood; an agonizing sound which carved through my ear drums. To my horror, the coffin was wobbling like a rocking cradle. A callous site. I did not want to believe it, but something was inside it. It was desperately trying to escape; to break free from death. My body shaked and my teeth chattered. I could not move my feet. An unknown force was holding them there. They were tree trunks, rooted to the ground. As I watched the coffin, with a look of dread on my face, I thought about why I had to end up in this dreaded, dreary dwelling. The weather which only intensified the moment were flashes of lightning which menacingly sizzled the ground as it struck it again and again; charging through the undergrowth while the rain dismally patted on the mud, outside. The lightning shone through the window, only to reveal something more terrifying. There were scratches covering the whole of the walls and ceiling. I could make out the jagged messy scratchings to say… Vos es mortuus. Not again, I thought, over and over, widening my eyes in despair. Those same words were scratched out all around the room. I spun round and round to make sure.

Now the coffin was wobbling and thrashing about at an alarming rate, like a child having a tantrum. I could almost smell rotten flesh from within. It incisively wafted around my nose. It was superfluous like the weather which threateningly took place through the steamy windows. Amidst the roaring noise of the thunder and lightning, the coffin door began to open. The rusty hinges creaked as whoever inside was opening the hatch. The organ began to play again in an almighty chorus as the figure ascended from the coffin with an expression of malicious aggression. He had a sick twisted smile which made me want to run, but my feet were somehow stuck to the ground. He was completely white and had bits of flesh torn off of him which looked like they had been picked off with red hot pokers. Blood blossomed from his wounds like a fountain, which seeped onto the floor, soaking in between my toes. I fell to the cold floor, desperately trying to get away from the ghastly living dead that stood, confidently in front of me. He walked over to me, an arrogant demeanour. He wore such finery like a heavy coat made from lots of different kinds of fur and jewellery which dazzled in the moonlight. He had red eyes set upon his disfigured face. His mouth however, was no more than a bloody hole in which all kinds of bugs inhabited themselves. His walk was sluggish and lazy as he stepped over me. My feet were getting colder in trepidation as I watched his smile contort into one of anger. He turned to me a glance which I screamed in panic. A daunting sight. I was cowering against the wall, whimpering as hundreds of maggots swarmed his deformed mouth. He put his face close to mine, spewing out even more maggots on to my lap. He spoke in a harsh but deep, sultry voice. I could smell his repulsive breath of rotten animals and sick which conveyed to my inflamed nostrils. At this point I was oblivious to the fact that there were hundreds of whispers nomadic around the room. A crowd of people, conversing with each other. But I could not see them. There was only one rationalization, even though I did not have a belief in it. They were a crowd of ghosts… I stared into his hate filled eyes like a hawk. “Hello, I am the Lord of the castle. I own the place. Nice, is it not. So I welcome you to Phasmatis Castle. My humble abode. I also happen to have a few questions for you.”
“Why have you looked upon this castle of death?” he said, in a sympathetic tone. “You don’t know what mess you’re in now, do you!” he shouted. I did not know what to think. I looked at him in disgust. He was hideous. “Do you even realise what you are now?” He questioned me again, his face ripping apart like stitching, as he put on a look of surprisement.” The whispers grew louder along with the thunder, gradually building in concern and mocking jubilance, almost coercing me to give a reply. Blood rushed round my organs, burning them up as it passed, making my head sweat in anxiety. “Ha ha ha. He hasn’t worked it out” he said, as the whispers turned into laughter. “You are dead” he said in the coldest most terrifying tone. At these words I scrambled on to my feet and began to run desperately trying to depart the horror behind.

I looked over my shoulder as I ran as fast as the wind could carry me. He was just standing there, a string of blood dripping from his mouth, making a daunting smile making my feet get colder and colder. He was not making the slightest attempt to try and stop me. As I ran, the common castle objects now looked like gnarled, twisted phantoms, taken over by a demon to make my journey unsettling. I passed the winding corridors wretchedly, feeling the palpitation of every artery. I was mingled with this horror, on the edge of collapsing from weakness. I felt the bitterness of disappointment in my heart. Not daring to look about me, I was sick with fear, expecting every turning of the path to present the living dead which I sought to run away from. The corridors in which I ran through were gradually getting more cramped as I felt the stuffiness and I was terribly claustrophobic. I did not know where anything was as my eyes were not fully adjusted to the pitch blackness as I hoped for the exit of this castle to appear in front of me. The carvings on the wall were of which you would see in a cathedral. Detailed and biblical. The patterns were carved on every bit of wall. They behold terrible images of Satan and torture. My body trembled as I raced past them shutting my eyes every now and again to be blind of the appalling images. I trembled in my step even more to see that the messages I had been witnessing were yet again written from head to toe in my surroundings. Vos es mortuus. They were written as though to brainwash me. I felt it working as I thought I was going mad and my head was throbbing in pain. What was worse was that as I ran I could hear livid voices and books and numerous other objects were flying in mid air at me. Shooting into my face, causing blood to drip from my nose like the water that dripped from the ceiling. Bruises formed on my face like pulsating mounds of veins and arteries. I was so scared that my capillaries burst and I began to sweat blood, it trailing behind me as I ran. Knives were bringing up the rear, ready to strike at my sweaty body, as my feet desperately ran on the scratched, splintered floor.

After what felt like hours, I could not carry on. I was wasting away. Such a heavy load was weighed upon my mind. A burden of pain and suffering. My legs came to a halt as I collapsed to the floor, a dirty heap. I groaned loudly in despair as I clutched my raw, icy flesh. I felt so alone that I felt like each beastly, towering wall was creeping in on me. What was truly mysterious about this moment was that the strange corpse and the crowd of ghosts were nowhere to be seen. It was totally silent. Nothing could be heard. I had to do the gruelling challenge of getting up on my feet. One foot at a time, I slowly got up. My muscles ached and as I moved them pain gradually travelling through my useless muscles. Picking up my ragged, dirty equipment in which I needed to survive. The halls were shrouded in mist and vampire bats which swooped down on me, spreading there wings and shrieking, like an eagle on the hunt. They fixed their miniscule eyes on me, even though they were blind. They probably acknowledged the echoing sound of my footsteps. The bats came in large numbers, constantly nipping my shoulders, in a rage. All kinds of bat droppings and discarded material were scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs. Now there were strange mosaic stone tiles forming to make beautiful yet depressing pictures which all seemed to symbolize death. They were a series of artwork depicting scenes from the bible. There was only the most terrible and horrific scenes included. Some at which I looked at and sank in depression, turning away from Christianity in disgust. Burnt out candles also lined the high, elaborate ceiling like old and wise men spreading there knowledge; showing people the light. I was insecure at the fact that I thought my enemies were going to come out of nowhere any second now, and that they were around every corner in which I would walk. I was so wound up in things that I forgot my purpose in life. I forgot that I was trying to get out. I forgot the very reason why I still wanted to be alive. In my opinion, the very reason to live a life is to fulfil that life in contributing to society in some way, and to enjoy life. Since there was no light at the end of the tunnel any more. Not a glimmer of hope or destiny. There was no reason to live. God put me on this world for a purpose, and since I have not fulfilled that purpose, I have failed in life. The castle seemed never ending and I would never be able to find a way out. In these dark ours I gave up hope to despair. Even though I had; I would never let myself be tamed by those atrocious monsters that have been taunting and lashing me, ever since I arrived at this place. I would never surrender myself like a coward. I knew that I would regret it in remorse if I did so; a never ending nightmare. I was beginning to consider the horrible corpse that had ascended from the coffin. If he is the lord of the castle then he might have wrote that diary. If he had written in the diary all those years ago; he might have been in the same position that I was in. Confused and terrified. The horrible corpse might have been just a normal person once. Just like me… Drifting into deep thoughts about this matter made me think. But as soon as my mind faced cruel, satanic reality again, I found those thoughts quite far fetched and preposterous, as I kept telling myself. But part of me still believed it to be true.

Yet again I was wondering round Phasmatis Castle, surveying the art on the walls. Some scenes quite arcane which enlightened me in my belief. New stories which I was not informed of before were depicted. I rapped my brain to decide which routes I was going to go to find my way out into freedom. The routes I took led me to more plain stone hallways which were terrible as the paintings acted as an effective distraction from the fear I am feeling which is more intense and cold than being in hell itself. My insides occasionally freezed, every time I heard the slightest noise, which would usually be a diseased rat, scuttling along the grimy floor, searching for food. The halls were shrouded in mist and fog, making me weary and dazed. The halls blurred before my eyes. I staggered around, like a drunkard, not knowing what was happening. Something stirred in the darkness. Something evil. I could sense it. I did a vast sniff of the atmosphere. My heart fell down a deep hole as yet again I could smell the horrible smell of rotten animals. I stopped for a brief moment to listen for a noise. There was nothing except the faintest sound of voices… coming from behind me. I could hear the lightning and thunder outside getting louder and louder in anger. How it rumbled, an explosion. I was distraught. I panicked as I began to walk a little bit faster. Blood was in my mouth, and I tried to spit it out. I grew to be on alert, searching my environment to seek danger that might be a threat. Still I could hear faint footsteps, gradually increasing in volume. I could hear them creeping up behind me. The loud rumble of the thunder was like an earthquake. Unpredictable and intimidating.

As I jogged through the halls, using all of my strength to its limit, trying to get away from the noise, it was so gloomy and dark that I had to use my deformed hands to feel my way around. All the strength I had used had not reaped its rewards as I was still lingering in this abode of darkness in which I was tormented beyond belief. My animosity towards the castle had reached its peak. But I did feel like every step I took was one towards freedom. So I carried on. I contemplated as I searched the castle, an unruly presence which I could feel on my neck, trailing behind me. I thought of my family back home and what they might be thinking. I thought about how they might eagerly await at my home for my glorious return. I imagined the look of disappointment and bitter sadness on their innocent loving faces, when they find out that I am not coming back and I have disappeared into the darkness which is this place. Something lived in the darkness, an invisible satanic spirit. Something that is neither dead nor alive. Something that is circling this castle for all eternity. In this place I have been witnessing ghosts and living dead. A foul monstrous thing which I would never have expected to see, which I feared was stalking me at this very moment. Ready to strike at the apt opportunity. I could still hear the slow alarming sound of footsteps once again and the strange whispers which have been forever haunting my mind since I arrived hear. These disturbing sounds forced me to walk faster. I could here them getting louder and louder as my heart got faster and faster. My head began to sweat more blood as I could sense the ghosts nearing to where I am. I was afraid my journey would be interrupted. All hope would be lost. I would be found and tortured beyond belief. I could imagine being prodded with a knife and swarmed in maggots. But I would not let it happen. I was determined to get out of this place alive and secure a place in Canterbury Cathedral where I belonged. I would certainly report this place to the officials as well. Then we can learn more about life and death than ever before.

For at least one hour I was walking through these hazardous passages, in an agitated manor, alerted to the strange occurrences that might happen. I was still hearing the same alarming, raspy breathing and whispers and the same squeaking of rats and bats, contorting their expressions to look ghastly. They nibbled through my shoes to get at my meaty toes which were chilled to the bone inside. Darkness thronged the air around me, darkening the space ahead so I could not see the horror that was in front of me. Icy gusts blew about the grimy window panes outside forming layers of ice which made the windows depressingly unbreakable. It did so with alacrity. I chose my path rubbing my head in deliberation. I deliberately tried not to be taken in by the voices and panic, but it was no use. It was extremely hard, not to be petrified at this particular moment in time. I wished there was a panacea for all the difficulties that I was suffering, but there was none. My panic was soon substituted with horror as something made me gasp in shock and jump out of my skin. Thump! Thump! Thump! I heard clunking on the ground. I stopped dead in my tracks, not daring to look about me. The abnormally loud noise had come from behind me. I carefully listened for danger. I could hear it approaching from behind. It slowly stepped up to my shoulder. It breathed heavily, muttering to itself. I thought my heart would explode in agony as I felt its breath turn to condensation on the back of my head. It was at this tense moment that I pulled out my knife. I concealed it within my coat waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

I was like lightning; sudden and deadly. I swiftly swung round, brandishing my knife, still with fear in my heart. My knife struck whoever it was behind me, blood oozing on to the dirty floor. It oozed like lava from a volcano. It happened to be the lord of the castle. He winced, shutting his eyes in pain, but merely got on to his feet again and laughed a cold, cruel laugh which sent shivers down my spine of sheer shock. He had just had his eye gouged out which rolled, lifeless along the floor, spurting blood. We stared at each other again; I with a dazed and surprised expression. Him with a wide smile spread across his face, as though it was all just good sport. “Thought you could get away! Didn’t you” he said harshly in my face. “I will tell you something. No matter where you run, I will hunt you down again. I know more secrets of this castle than anyone else. You will never escape. The villagers are also very helpful in giving me tips as well. You could run away like a coward right now and I would not care. You would probably even be better off giving in to me.” Not even acknowledging anything of what he had said; my eyes widening in disgust, I ran. I darted through the corridors of darkness and filth. I was running for my life. I was running for freedom. Not soon after I looked behind and saw the mangled sick corpse closely following from behind. He raised his fingers which supported many finger nails like sharp blades. He looked ready to strike. In seeing this I immediately sped up. I was now at a part of the castle where there was not many luxuries, but just stone corridors. The path though was littered with a plethora of junk speckled all over the floor. I dashed in between them and pulled off tremendous leaps to evade tripping or dirt. As I was so hysterical and my heart, filled with dread. I stumbled and started to sweat blood again. My breathing began to get heavy. My body was freezing cold. I felt like my feet were going to snap off at any moment. I could still smell a foul stench from behind, racing into my nose. It was then that I turned a corner and looked behind my shoulder again fearing the worst. I was confused because the lord or corpse as I called him was not there any more… Slightly slowing down as though I wanted him to follow me, I looked back, still running. He was not following me anymore. With a look of surprise on my face, I continued running. I looked forward again but to my horror, it was a dead end. Even worse still, there was a gaping hole on the floor. I stopped but slowly lost balance. In agony I desperately tried to cling on for dear life with my nails. My nails scraped the sides of the hole as I plummeted, arms flailing into the deep dark hole which could possibly be my death. I looked above, seeing the dim light above getting smaller as I got deeper underground. I hit the floor with a crash that made the ground vibrate; small chunks of rock, burying me at the bottom of the hole. My head was dazed and my vision dismally faded into blackness.

All I could see was blackness. My mind was a lump of mould. I was not aware of anything. But as soon as I realised I was nothing more than a lifeless body, unconscious on the floor, my limbs convulsed spasmodically and I breathed heavily. There was a strange pain in my arm like I was on a rack. My vision cleared to see a rocky underground cavern. It was no sooner that I realised that my arms were in rusty chains, which were suspended from the ceiling. They were stretched to an enormous length which was absolute agony. My legs dangled pathetically below. I struggled to get out and almost had a fit of anger, but it was no use. I was stuck. Now all I had to wait for was my fait in which would not be very pleasant. The cavern was soaking wet and I could hear the dripping of water onto my forehead which made me go mad. I looked around cautiously and happened to notice the hundreds of jagged, large stalactites and stalagmites. They stuck out at weird angles which appeared quite frightening. They were like the teeth of a beastly monster. The darkness crept in on me more and more. Only the light of the torch fought back its advance. Having to struggle and hold myself up was zapping all the energy I had left. The only thing left to do was just dangle; making gravity pull the muscles in my arms. I was not suffering the only instrument of torture there was. There were many gnarled thumbscrews and chopping blocks which I stared at in remorse and dread. The cavern was purely made out of rock a murky brown colour which made it even harder to see. Bats were collecting here in their hundreds. They hung upside down; asleep. They were not aware of my presence. I traced the room with my eyes. I could only barely make out the pools of blood on the floor like lakes. The skin in my arms was now splitting as I endured the force that pulled upon my arms. The cold still air on my skin was the only calming thing about this hollow. Tears fell from my eyes, making them shine, reflecting the burning torches. This made my eyes look like balls of fire, tearing through the castle. They were eyes of anger. I wept, crying out all the tension and woes of my life. But that was not enough. I feared there was still fear to come. So that means that the thing I am afraid of is fear itself. The dying echoes that pulsed inside my head only created more while it forever increased in anxiety. I was not welcome here. I should have realised that from the beginning. I could feel the soft moaning of evil in my bones. I was in a drowsy state, only wishing for the angel of death to put me to sleep; to me a glorious thing. A part of life, more important than life itself as death is a part of life, but you go to a better place. I spent what I thought was the last moments of my life, willing myself when I die to be passed on to the kingdom of heaven. The only spectacle I had to look forward to. That is only if I have done Gods will. Heaven was a place of undying magic. I waited as I could feel my life ebbing away, my eyes closing ever so slightly. I felt the rough coarse texture of my chains, rubbing on my wounds, sending pain coursing through every limb and organ in my body. The still magic of silence was the only thing I heard.

However my hours of dread had ceased and turned into horror. The silence was no more as a ghastly voice began to speak. I wearily opened my eyes and saw the lord standing there; with the same horrible characteristics as he always appeared to have. I was too weak to move and only concealed my feelings inside myself. I was partly mortified and part angry how he had tormented me during these dark times. I looked at the mangled corpse; frowning which ruffled my brow. I made a desperate attempt to lash out at him but only shook myself where I hung. I saw demons, causing mischief in his eyes. I could tell a lot from someone’s eyes as it is hard to move your eye muscles deliberately. I was totally focused on him. Not did I glance at the happenings of the hollow. Not did I squint in the darkness to witness the bats daily lives. The corpse’s inferior mouth started to move, spitting maggots and blood onto my chest. “Finally I have a chance to have a proper conversation with mister coward” he said in obvious sarcasm; pretending to put on a tone of voice and expression of interest. “You have no idea what curses and secrets this castle beholds. It is not your fault though. I believe it is a man called Grevious. Am I correct in saying that you met him down in the tunnels?” he asked me. I gave no reply; too distraught to even speak to the ghastly form that stood, crookedly in front of me. “You know I am right. I also happen to know that you found my diary.”
“It was your diary” I said in bewilderment. “So that means you were once just”
“Like me. Yes. Over years I have grew to know more and more knowledge about this castle. Some information more disturbing than anything you could imagine. As part of Phasmatis castle, I must tell you all the information I know.” Now I could see a different side to this once evil corpse. He showed me a more sensitive, serious side. Strangely I began to listen with rapped attention. “What do you mean part of Phasmatis Castle?” I asked. “You are one of us! 600 years ago a curse was unleashed upon this castle. My servant Grevious fell down this hole and disturbed the dead. Some people were buried here, in ancient times. They are most notorious. Grevious awakened the curse by reading an inscription on one of the graves. As he did so, it opened a gate to hell itself where the curse was passed on and Grevious went mad. We have locked him in the tunnels ever since. Anyone who looks upon the castle dies and is trapped here forever. When we die, we either become a ghost or living dead. We have no choice over who we are. We neither die nor live. We are just an empty soul, circling this castle for all eternity. A ghost can do anything a human can. The only difference is that he is invisible to everyone. We living dead are just like humans except our bodies are ugly and foul. There is only one hope for us. If we answer the question correctly; we are all set free. There are special guardians who stand around the castle and capture anyone who sets there eye on this castle.”
“What do you mean by the question?” I asked.
“An inscription near the graves asks you of a question. If one person gets it right, we are all set free.” Questions flooded my head. I got so confused that I chose not to ask them. But as I took in more of his words, a sorrow which made my heart sink a thousand miles forced its way into my head. A sorrow which would ruin my hopes forever. A sorrow which made me want to kill myself a thousand times. A sorrow which would torment my mind for all eternity. I was a corpse. I could never die. I would be trapped in the castle everlastingly. Even till the end of the universe, I will still be floating in oblivion, an empty soul; an empty shell. Gone from the rest of the world. Even though I am not. The one lesson I have learned from my traumatic experience is that life and death are the most important thing and what you do with them counts as well. Death is just as important as life as death is the next greatest adventure. If you have nought but one; you are lost for all eternity. Your suffering will be constant. “What is the question?” I asked as though I had nothing to lose. The lord of the castle began to answer “What is the meaning of life?”