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After the Storm
A short afterstory of my previous horror, "What the Storm Brings".
•••
Mr. Richie heard the horns of the ship from the pier cafe. He looked out the window and saw the cargo on its way to dock. He closed the newspaper he was reading and left a bill on the table.
Mr. Richie took out his phone and dialed a number.
"It's here." He said.
Mr. Richie shoved the phone back to his pocket after nodding to the words from the other end of the phone. He approached the pier office and was greeted by the manager of the ship.
"Are you Mr. Richie? The collector?"
The manager said.
"Yes, I am. Tell you what, I am a taxidermist too." Mr. Richie said, shaking the manager's hand.
"Well it's been good doing business with you Mr. Richie. Everything's back on the ship. Till next time."
The manager left.
Mr. Richie then went to the docking bay.
He saw hundreds of boxes, lifted carefully by men and machines, marked with the printed words:
"Fragile. Lake House Artifacts."
•••
It has been thirty long years since tragedy struck in the lake house island. The horrors of it left Tim to peril in the psychiatic ward.
Tim lost everything. His rich family abandoned him, couldn't take the fact that their son was a lunatic. They gave him a private psych ward all to himself though, but for years Tim was alone. Now 70 years old, he dedicated most of his life to try and find his love.
•••
Mr. Richie arrived at a huge room in a private property. He was ordered to set all the artifacts there and arrange them. Multiple trucks and vans pulled up to deliver the labeled boxes which contained artifacts from the lake house.
A woman handed out an inventory of all the stuff they retrieved.
Mr. Richie started to order several men to do the job while he went off checking things and made sure all was in place.
By afternoon, the empty room became a room of artifacts. Chairs and tables here and there, paddles and picture frames hung on walls, curtains on windows. A gold vase was placed in the center of it all.
Mr. Richie took a long look around the place, amazed by all the stuff that they just put there. But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
He was taking it all in when the woman earlier approached him.
"Mr. Richie, he's here."
Mr. Richie turned around to the door.
Tim, in his old age was wheeled in by a nurse in a wheelchair, looking stern and focused.
Tim gasped as he saw the room. The monitors on his fast heartrate alarmed the nurse.
He was hit with instant flashbacks.
It angered him.
"Sir, I think we should let you..." the nurse started to say.
Tim shook his head.
He gestured for the nurse to wheel him around and surveyed the room.
Mr. Richie and a few other nurses looked in silence. He can't help feeling the hairs on his arm standing up. He could tell by the look of the other nurses that they were scared too.
Mr. Richie looked at Tim. He seemed drawn to something, eyeing every little object he passed with certainty as if he was speaking to it all.
The nurse who was pushing Tim in the wheelchair started to feel nauseated. But Tim wanted to keep going. He passed by some lanterns, wooden plates, pots, paintings, and then he saw it.
In the far end of the room, mounted on the wall , was the head of a beast .
His heart rate monitor beeped louder and faster. Tim was paralyzed by it. He stared at the head of the beast.
For years with the money he had left, he worked hard to retrieve things from the lake house, and keep it to himself. He believed something was left for him there. A clue as to where his late wife Tina was.
As if by magic, or something supernatural, he was sure something was up with the beast's head.
"Ti..na" Tim croaked. Tears started to flow down from his eyes. He called for Mr. Richie.
Mr. Richie sucked all his might to look unbothered. He approached Tim and the nurse.
"What can you say about it?" Tim asked, his eyes on the beast's head.
Mr..Richie didn't want to look at it, but something made him.
"You're a taxidermist." Tim added. "Tell me." He faced Mr. Richie.
"Is my wife there?"
Mr. Richie couldn't speak. He felt dizzy and his legs felt like he was about to fall.
"Is Tina there?" Tim asked again.
"Um, I..I don't know, sir. I'm just a taxidermist..." Mr. Richie stammered.
Tim looked seriously at him, but Mr. Richie couldn't bring himself to look back or stare at the beast's head.
"Take it down." Tim ordered a few men. They lowered it on the floor. It seemed less haunting now that it wasn't up on the wall.
Everybody stared at it in horror.
"Sir, your blood pressure is rising. I think we should come back a little later." The nurse started to say.
Tim ignored him. "Cut it open."
The men looked at each other, but Mr. Richie urged them to follow Tim's orders.
In a second they were hacking away at the head of the beast, watched it break into pieces. Tme has ruined it and made it easier to destroy.
All that was left were the ruins.
No one knew what to make of the situation, but they believed, especially the nurses, that this might finally heal Tim and make him move on. Even though they did not know what to expect to see. They knew Tina was dead, but with the fear crippling on them they prayed a ghost wouldn't turn up any moment.
"Burn it."
There was no argument needed. The men picked up the pieces and threw it on the fireplace.
Mr. Richie lit it up.
As soon as the fire grew, everyone in the room heard it.
An ear-splitting scream.
It echoed around the room, shook the paintings on the walls, broke the vases, and sent a strong wind . Everyone else got down on their hands and knees.
Tim knew the scream belonged to Tina.
He started to laugh, then cry. Shouting her name, over and over again like a chant.
It ended for a minute. Then the fire died out.
Tim's laugh was the only noise they could hear. He began to ease into his chair.
"I found you honey."
Everyone looked at each other in disbelief.
"I've finally set you free."
cover photo credit: Pinterest
© Illegna
•••
Mr. Richie heard the horns of the ship from the pier cafe. He looked out the window and saw the cargo on its way to dock. He closed the newspaper he was reading and left a bill on the table.
Mr. Richie took out his phone and dialed a number.
"It's here." He said.
Mr. Richie shoved the phone back to his pocket after nodding to the words from the other end of the phone. He approached the pier office and was greeted by the manager of the ship.
"Are you Mr. Richie? The collector?"
The manager said.
"Yes, I am. Tell you what, I am a taxidermist too." Mr. Richie said, shaking the manager's hand.
"Well it's been good doing business with you Mr. Richie. Everything's back on the ship. Till next time."
The manager left.
Mr. Richie then went to the docking bay.
He saw hundreds of boxes, lifted carefully by men and machines, marked with the printed words:
"Fragile. Lake House Artifacts."
•••
It has been thirty long years since tragedy struck in the lake house island. The horrors of it left Tim to peril in the psychiatic ward.
Tim lost everything. His rich family abandoned him, couldn't take the fact that their son was a lunatic. They gave him a private psych ward all to himself though, but for years Tim was alone. Now 70 years old, he dedicated most of his life to try and find his love.
•••
Mr. Richie arrived at a huge room in a private property. He was ordered to set all the artifacts there and arrange them. Multiple trucks and vans pulled up to deliver the labeled boxes which contained artifacts from the lake house.
A woman handed out an inventory of all the stuff they retrieved.
Mr. Richie started to order several men to do the job while he went off checking things and made sure all was in place.
By afternoon, the empty room became a room of artifacts. Chairs and tables here and there, paddles and picture frames hung on walls, curtains on windows. A gold vase was placed in the center of it all.
Mr. Richie took a long look around the place, amazed by all the stuff that they just put there. But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
He was taking it all in when the woman earlier approached him.
"Mr. Richie, he's here."
Mr. Richie turned around to the door.
Tim, in his old age was wheeled in by a nurse in a wheelchair, looking stern and focused.
Tim gasped as he saw the room. The monitors on his fast heartrate alarmed the nurse.
He was hit with instant flashbacks.
It angered him.
"Sir, I think we should let you..." the nurse started to say.
Tim shook his head.
He gestured for the nurse to wheel him around and surveyed the room.
Mr. Richie and a few other nurses looked in silence. He can't help feeling the hairs on his arm standing up. He could tell by the look of the other nurses that they were scared too.
Mr. Richie looked at Tim. He seemed drawn to something, eyeing every little object he passed with certainty as if he was speaking to it all.
The nurse who was pushing Tim in the wheelchair started to feel nauseated. But Tim wanted to keep going. He passed by some lanterns, wooden plates, pots, paintings, and then he saw it.
In the far end of the room, mounted on the wall , was the head of a beast .
His heart rate monitor beeped louder and faster. Tim was paralyzed by it. He stared at the head of the beast.
For years with the money he had left, he worked hard to retrieve things from the lake house, and keep it to himself. He believed something was left for him there. A clue as to where his late wife Tina was.
As if by magic, or something supernatural, he was sure something was up with the beast's head.
"Ti..na" Tim croaked. Tears started to flow down from his eyes. He called for Mr. Richie.
Mr. Richie sucked all his might to look unbothered. He approached Tim and the nurse.
"What can you say about it?" Tim asked, his eyes on the beast's head.
Mr..Richie didn't want to look at it, but something made him.
"You're a taxidermist." Tim added. "Tell me." He faced Mr. Richie.
"Is my wife there?"
Mr. Richie couldn't speak. He felt dizzy and his legs felt like he was about to fall.
"Is Tina there?" Tim asked again.
"Um, I..I don't know, sir. I'm just a taxidermist..." Mr. Richie stammered.
Tim looked seriously at him, but Mr. Richie couldn't bring himself to look back or stare at the beast's head.
"Take it down." Tim ordered a few men. They lowered it on the floor. It seemed less haunting now that it wasn't up on the wall.
Everybody stared at it in horror.
"Sir, your blood pressure is rising. I think we should come back a little later." The nurse started to say.
Tim ignored him. "Cut it open."
The men looked at each other, but Mr. Richie urged them to follow Tim's orders.
In a second they were hacking away at the head of the beast, watched it break into pieces. Tme has ruined it and made it easier to destroy.
All that was left were the ruins.
No one knew what to make of the situation, but they believed, especially the nurses, that this might finally heal Tim and make him move on. Even though they did not know what to expect to see. They knew Tina was dead, but with the fear crippling on them they prayed a ghost wouldn't turn up any moment.
"Burn it."
There was no argument needed. The men picked up the pieces and threw it on the fireplace.
Mr. Richie lit it up.
As soon as the fire grew, everyone in the room heard it.
An ear-splitting scream.
It echoed around the room, shook the paintings on the walls, broke the vases, and sent a strong wind . Everyone else got down on their hands and knees.
Tim knew the scream belonged to Tina.
He started to laugh, then cry. Shouting her name, over and over again like a chant.
It ended for a minute. Then the fire died out.
Tim's laugh was the only noise they could hear. He began to ease into his chair.
"I found you honey."
Everyone looked at each other in disbelief.
"I've finally set you free."
cover photo credit: Pinterest
© Illegna
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