No Way To Escape | Novel

CHAPTER 55: THE POLTERGEIST ASSAULT

Both of us tweaked and shifted our glance towards the stairs. It was all dark. But then the whole room was lighted the next moment – as if kindled by the bright Sun itself. As I looked up, I saw all the candles being lighted up. Like daffodils flutter in a breeze, all the candles got lighted up in a wave. The whole house was illuminated now.

I looked at Father before gazing back at the stairs. He seemed utterly shocked as he was gaping constantly at the stairs. The creaking was clamorous now. Someone was descending with heavy footsteps as the floorboards were being stressed upon by some hefty mass.

Then it reached down. I couldn't see anyone; even in the ultra-bright light. But it was relevant I wasn't that shocked as Father was. It was his first time here... facing the Warwicks. It was walking up straight in our direction. We were retreating each step matching with those of the spectre. The floorboard creaking was pissing me off now.

Pounce or go... Don't be a fucking tantalizer!

And then, as if it listened to my mind, it stopped abruptly. Both Father and I shared a glance as we braced up for the worst. And then it swooped.

Father Richard flew up by a yard in the air suddenly. I leaped to catch his legs but I was kicked hard by someone on my face mid-air. I fell down on the floor with a bang and hit an old book case. Father was petrified now. He seemed to be holding his fear and breath right then. And then he started spinning vertically, in a counter-clockwise manner. The movement was so fierce! The speed was so rampaging! He wasn't screaming. He seemed to have sealed his lips.

I yelled out and was about to leap again but suddenly almost a dozen of hands – pale and rotten – emerged out from my back; from within the cabinet. They all got stretched over my chest and held me back, almost like embracing me; the only difference being that I couldn't see anyone behind. Just the hands wrapped around my chest.

Father was being rotated with a ferocious speed now. It went on, like, for a minute or so before he was crashed down on the floor. He landed on his legs and his right foot twitched as he shrieked out in pain. He immediately threw up after that.

'You okay, Father?', I asked him, still struggling to break the lock. He was in no condition to respond. He tried to get up but his feet were disorienting. He fell again, losing his balance. He glanced back at me. His eyelids were flickering. And then he was raised up again into the air. This time it seemed like someone was grappling him by the throat. 'Donald?', I heard Father speak out faintly. Oh, I wanted to break free so dearly!

He was then hurled past me to the nearby table. His waist hit the edge of the wooden table and it made him screech. He fell on his knees with a thud and then the phantom, getting him by the head, turned him towards the table and smashed his face onto the edge. He went on smashing his face again and again. I could see blood splutter out of Father's nose and mouth. The impacts weren't soft anyway.

I was so desperate to skedaddle now! I was grabbing at the hands, trying to loosen their grasp but they were too stiff for me. My feet were tumbling over the floor as I was trying to help myself; but to no avail.

After all the smashing was done, I saw him being flung down on the floor. His face was flustered and mantled by blood now. He still seemed to be moving. All of this made me feel so infuriated at myself. It wasn't his fault that he was here. It was mine. I didn't hold him back. I didn't try harder to convince him. He had no fault. He had no curse on him. He just wanted to help and the consequence was making me feel extremely guilty.

Somehow, he managed to get up this time. But this time he seemed to me like a hundred-year-old. He was on the verge of being knocked down. I was wondering how resolving this man is! He then leaned against the table, spat out the blood in his mouth, and was just about to start in my direction when he was hurled again – thrown onto the wall with a bang. He crashed onto it and fell down; right on his face. This time I tried to raise my legs and used the weight of my body holding the edges of the case to flip myself upside down. And it worked. The grip loosened and I helped myself loosen it further by using my hands. And then, finally, I was out of their grasp.

I rushed in Father's direction. He had lost his consciousness now. I crouched by him and taking his head on my lap, started cuffing his cheeks gently. His face was completely grossed with blood now. My hands felt so wet and sticky right then. He wasn't responding.

'Oh Father, I am so sorry. I am so so sorry!'

A cold wind blew up behind me. I looked back up. Something was forming up above, in the balcony of second floor. Glancing back at Father, I laid him to rest there and stood up. 'Don't worry, Father. Just got a job to finish', I said. As I shifted my gaze up to the balcony, I realized he was taking his prime form – the skeleton with sparse muscles apparition, with red, blazing eyes.

As it finally took its form, I could see its lips moving. 'Oh Liam, it's the privilege I have provided you to be my guest. Why make the poor soul interfere. You're turning into an unruly, sick child, I see. You ready for your reward?', he said.

'I ain't afraid of you anymore!'

'Aha! Graceful! Welcome to the masquerade!'. Suddenly a woman appeared on the stairs. An old woman; but not Momma Warwick. She gave me a smile. And then appeared a young teen, right before the dine; one hand torn off. Then a man with a mole on his chin and an open skull, right under the balcony. It all was starting to give me a blatant overtone.

People started appearing one by one then; all around the house. A kid appeared right in front of the furnace with his throat slit open. Must be the kid Sir Cooper mentioned about – I thought. Then came the Warwicks, to the sides of the prime spook. To the left – Mrs. Warwick, with the bullet-hole on her face, and Momma Warwick, with blood all over her chest and to the right – The innocent girl, Ruth.

When I expected it was over now, a creature started forming through the wind, right in front of me. I braced myself for the worse by picking up a broken vase nearby. And then he came – my dear friend Larry.