Original Horror Fiction: Beyond Appearance

PART 4: THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE LOST SPIRIT

“Victor, honey.”

Virginia rushes towards him and hugs him.

“Were we being too loud?” Victor asks his mum.

“No, I thought… I thought I saw something.”

The little boy had already vanished like a ghost.

It is now the middle of the night, and the whole house is asleep.

Virginia is lying on her side of the bed when she is suddenly woken up by a distant cry, a voice in pain softly crying for her.

“Mum.”

She thinks William might be awake, so she gets up. But he and his siblings are peacefully sleeping in their beds. She looks at the door, the door of the mysterious room, and, while stepping towards it, the crying becomes stronger and stronger, louder and louder. She starts to approach it very determined to find out what it is.

Opening the door, the crying stopped. However, she noticed something peculiar: wet paint was dropping from one of the many frames. Virginia realized it was coming from the fireplace painting she had examined earlier that day, but this time, something changed. The wet canvas is not so empty anymore, as the little boy she saw earlier that day in the garden is now pictured in it in front of the flames.

Confused and scared by the recent events since her move into the house, Virginia wants some answers. She thought of reaching out to the nearest person she met, someone who had been living there long and knew the community and its history: Father Joseph.

Virginia is about to leave the house with William. Her kids were in school already and Edward was in bed.

“Let’s go, dear; let’s get you in the car.”

Edward slowly steps into the living room. He glances at her and goes towards the kitchen.

“Honey, I’m stepping out now. Going to the church and working on my book from a cafe in…”

“That sounds great,” Edward says, cutting her off, almost completely ignoring her.

Virginia sighs and shuts the main door behind her.

///

At the church, Father Joseph is putting on the nativity scene.

“Want some help?”

Virginia approaches Father Joseph, smiling.

“Everyone is welcome to help out!”

Virginia takes on one of the little statues.

“How are you and your family settling in?” Father Joseph asks.

“Slowly,” she laughs. “There’s a lot of work to do in that house and garden, but we will get there.”

“Good, good.”

She goes silent, and her mind is somewhere far away. Father Joseph notices her absence in mind.

“Something troubling you?”

“No.” She pauses. “Well, yes, maybe. It’s the house, something in the house. I believe… I believe someone is… I’m sorry, you would think I am crazy, delirious even. You don’t even know me.”

“Did you see him?”

“Him? How did you know? Is there something I should know about my home? Please tell me. I’m so scared and confused.”

“Sit down, Virginia.”

Father Joseph gently grabs her hand and leads her toward the nearest seat.

“Years ago, a father and his son lived in the house. The father, Nicholas Bennett, was a painter—landscapes mostly—and a wood sculpture artist. He was not well and drunk most of the day. Some said he was depressed; others just thought he was crazy and has always been. Days went by, and his drinking condition got worse. He was not happy, and even if he was talented, his paintings were not selling well. He decided to paint a portrait of his son, hoping it would sell better than his other works.

His masterpiece was completed. However, the old man hated every single part of it. It was not good enough for him!

In rage and desperation, he started beating his son until the poor boy took his last breath.

Realizing what he had done, Nicholas took his own life. 

Now, legend says that the boy’s ghost still lives in the house. Some weird things have happened over the years, but no one has ever actually seen him.”

Virginia listened to the Father’s story carefully, and in that moment, she understood.

She understood everything.

William playing and smiling at him; her husband, the male figure of her family, injured and beaten up; the ghost of the little child crying for her in the night.

“He wants a family,” Virginia whispers softly as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“Now he has one.”

…

THE END