Bloodridge Manner

Patient zero escapes from Dr.Dons facility and rattles the town of Holdenfort.

BloodRidge Manner

A story of pain, death, and insanity betides the residence of Holdenfort, and haunts their memories till the end of time. It was I who caused the pain, and I who created chaos within their happy hills. We begin on the day of my escape.

I was out of breath, police sirens and dogs bark filled my head. I ran as fast as my heart would let me. Hiding behind a old wooden fence, I caught my breath and made a plan.

“I am not going back to prison!” I fiercely whispered to myself. I kicked off the fence and ran down the neighborhood through brush and limbs behind all the houses. Staying out of sight I emerged behind a large manner. “This will have to do.” I said aloud as I picked up a limb and swiftly struck the basement window. Shattering glass shook me with fear.

My heart raced as I slowly crept down the basement window. Darkness and silence left me in a deep mental state where fear over ruled cognitive brain functions. In a fast spur I tripped over some cans and miscellaneous metal objects. I laid there catching my breath when the sound of footsteps abruptly disturbed the air. I quickly stood up and got upon the wall hiding myself from the door. Light peeked in the cracks after the sound of a switch's click. An old man slowly crept open the door. I stepped to the left shunning myself from the light and held my breath. The mans’ boots pounded my head with every step he made. As I ran my hand across the wall I felt a large wooden object. I gripped the object with my left hand and pull it up to my right. It was an ax. Without hesitation I kicked off the wall and planted the blade deep in the old man’s skull.

I could not believe the act I had just committed, though, I did not dwell on the fact that I did it, but for what has to be done to rid the body from my presence. I lit up the furnace and attempted to stuff the corpse inside, but I failed. It brought me much pain to cut up every limb into several pieces but it had to be done. The body left a rancid smell that stained my clothes as well as the soul I once had. I threw the ax over my shoulder and hauled my exhausted legs up the stairs. After checking every room I washed my hands; not washed, scrubbed, ripped, teared, but my efforts lay waste in the sulking hope of washing murder from ones hands.

I heard a tapping come from above. “More residence?” I thought to myself. I gripped the handle tightly and ran up stairs and then another flight to get to the attic. It was dark and cold, winds blew in through the open window. Laying on the window was a doll. The dolls eyes were dark buttons and had a crooked stitched smile. Before it had a chance to bother me I threw it out the window and shut and closed it tightly. I felt a sense of relief as I walked back down the stairs to the second floor, and into the kitchen. Washing my hands again I stared at the blood swirling down the drain almost hypnotizing my gaze. Soon the power went out and rain poured down hard over the manner. I gazed out the window in fear of looking around and being captured by darkness. Out in the horizon lightning struck and the apparition of a small stitched rag doll appeared on the metal fence. My heart dropped and lightning struck again. The doll was gone. My legs became weak and my stomach twisted and curled.

“I need the light!” I screamed aloud. I turned towards the stairs in effort to get to the well lit fireplace. On the counter was the doll. I slowly lifted it and began to steam. For I feared it I dropped it to the floor. Catching fire, the dolled melted through the floor. I took off running through the house and down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs I saw the fire place in the living room. As I ran towards it the walls started to morph and it seemed like it was getting further away with every step. I then tripped and landed face first on the floor. As I looked up I felt the warmth of the fire place beside me. To my right was The doll and a wooden box. Lifting up the box I read the inscription on the tarnished silver plate. “William Provis.” What was my name doing on this box. The doll made a faint high pitched laugh. I opened the box and stuffed the doll in it and locked it away. Without hesitation I shoved the doll and the box in the fire place. The wall behind me caught fire and the doors barred down. That is when I realized I was the doll in the box.

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar problems.