Prey, What Did I Inherit?

Verily, you might surmise that I am much akin to a moose in my capacity to imbibe alcohol on the most frequent occasions. In my past life, I must have been a Drosophila Melanogaster. A common fruit fly. I am unable to remain sober, for I dread what I might encounter. I perceive and hear things in the absence of alcohol flowing through my veins. I feel that when I am drank, I can chat with whatever haunts me without any mask of fear. Maybe it is because in vino veritas. 

Over a decade ago, news arrived that a distant uncle, whom I had met just once in my childhood, had bequeathed his entire estate to me in his testament. I was astounded and bewildered. Why would he leave his property to me, a stranger?

Even the person who delivered the news to me could not conceal their surprise, no matter how hard they tried. The news was accompanied by the keys to the house.

At first, I found it hard to believe.

Upon learning more about my uncle, I discovered that he had a strained relationship with everyone, including his offspring. Perhaps he had elected to bestow his property upon me because he believed that I was the only one who would cherish it.

I set off to visit the house, embarking on a long journey that spanned the majority of the morning. As I crossed the threshold of the aged house, a strange feeling began to nag at me. The cracked floors groaned under my feet, and the scent of mold and mildew filled the air. It was evident that the house had been deserted for quite some time.

However, I had not come to admire the architecture or the dilapidated state of the building. I was there for an entirely different reason. I had no notion as to why my uncle had chosen to leave me this decaying old place, but I knew that it had held great significance for him.

As I traversed the empty rooms, memories of my childhood flooded my mind. I recollected the one time when my mother and I had come to visit my uncle, spending long afternoons in the garden, gathering mangoes, and chatting about everything and nothing. It had been a joyous period, a time before disputes within their family had driven a wedge between them.

But as I continued to explore the house, a strange sensation interrupted my reminiscences. It was as though something – or someone – was watching me, lurking just out of view. I endeavored to brush it off, attributing it to my imagination running wild. Nevertheless, the feeling persisted, growing stronger with each passing moment.

Suddenly, I heard a noise emanating from the room at the far end of the hallway. It sounded like footsteps, slow and measured, as though someone wished to remain unseen and unheard. My heartbeat quickened as I made my way towards the room, attempting to be as noiseless as possible. Upon reaching the far end of the hallway, I noticed that one of the doors was slightly ajar. It was the room that – by my inferences – had once being the bedroom of my uncle.

I nudged the door open and peered inside, half-expecting to see someone standing there. However, the room was vacant, and I breathed a sigh of relief. That was when I discerned something peculiar about the room. It was immaculately clean, as though someone had recently been in there. But that was impossible - the house had been abandoned for years.

I resolved to investigate further and commenced a diligent search through the scattered boxes which filled the room. Alas, most of these were filled with mere trifles - old magazines, broken toys, and other such worthless odds and ends. However, a certain box soon caught my attention. It contained letters, aged photographs, and various personal articles belonging to my uncle.

As I delved into the contents of the box, a certain sentimentality began to stir within me. There were letters from my estranged father, who had left when I was but a child. There were photographs of my uncle and I, taken during the innocent years of my youth. And there was a diary, filled with my uncle's reflections and emotions from the last years of his life.

As I read through the diary with a growing sense of unease, I found myself increasingly disturbed. My uncle's words were fraught with pain and sorrow, and it was evident that he had been contending with some insurmountable difficulty for an extended period. He spoke of feeling as though he was under constant surveillance, of hearing peculiar noises within the confines of the house. And then, as the entries drew towards their conclusion, he made mention of a dark presence which dogged his every step.

My mind reeled in disbelief. My uncle had been assailed by an ominous force within these walls, a force which had driven him to the brink of madness. And now, to my horror, it appeared that this same malevolent presence had shifted its focus onto me.

As I closed the diary and surveyed the room, a shiver passed through me. The sensation of being observed had intensified, and it seemed as though an entity was standing close behind me. Slowly, I turned to face the intruder, dreading what I might behold. A figure materialized in the doorway, murky and elusive, moving with a slow, deliberate gait in my direction. Paralyzed, I could not speak nor move as it drew ever closer, its eyes hollow and black, its flesh ashen and gaunt.

As the skeletal hand reached forth to touch me, I realized with abject terror that this was the same loathsome presence which had tormented my uncle. It had been waiting, biding its time in the shadows, for the moment when it could seize me. And now, I was trapped within its grasp.

I made a valiant effort to flee, but my legs refused to respond. My voice was silenced by a constriction in my throat. The dark figure loomed over me, its foul breath searing my face. And then, in a sudden flurry of motion, it lunged at me, dragging me towards the inky depths of the shadows.

I fought back with every fiber of my being.

The figure began to withdraw, retreating at first with sluggishness, but soon accelerating with an unnatural quickness, as if it were a marionette being manipulated by some unseen puppeteer. I longed to scream, yet my vocal chords remained strained and unyielding.

The creature was nearly upon me when a gust of wind rushed through the room, and the space was shrouded in darkness. I stumbled backwards, tripping over some unseen obstacle and plummeting to the ground. When I regained my bearings, the figure had vanished, leaving the room in the same state of emptiness as before.

With my nerves shattered and my heart pounding, I clambered to my feet and fled the house as quickly as I could. As I reached the safety of my vehicle, I turned back for one final glance at the accursed dwelling.

From that day onwards, I dread a teetotal lifestyle. Whenever, I haven’t taken in alcohol, there is a constant looming over me a malevolent entity which forever haunt my moments.