A Father's Love

It all happened on the 23rd of October, 1867. The family of the lawyer, James Lester, got slaughtered by their head of the family in their small manor home. That night, the religious man was possessed to cut his wife, son, and servants' stomachs in the shape of an "X," causing their guts to spill. His daughter, who he loved and doted on so much—snapped her neck for a quicker and cleaner death before committing suicide from guilt.

That was how the curse began.

Fifty years later to the exact date, in 1917, another family sleeping under the same manor's roof followed the same fate. Surrounding neighbours complained nothing of unusual disturbances on the night of the Matthews massacre. No screaming woke them or disrupted their pets. However, the family did complain of light footsteps running down the halls at night, convincing the occupants that an intruder had broken in. Only there were no strangers found hiding inside after hours of police search or any signs of forced entry.

It should also be noted that, between the two separate incidents, the victims showed no signs of struggle, like they had stayed completely still through the agonizing pain their bodies endured as they spilled dry. Testing on the bodies showed that they had been drugged recently prior to their death. Differences showed that the first murder was clearly committed by the father, but in the second time, all occupants of the home were dosed with their bellies ripped out. The butcher knife was found on the small chest of drawers situated next the father with no matching fingerprints. There was no way he could have slit himself so precisely while in such pain, never mind being dosed himself. It had to be an intruder.

Many believe that it was the gardener who did it, as he was the only one not at the house that night and was the only other person to have keys for easy access. He was found guilty of the copycat killing and hanged. Though there are those who believe another theory—that it was James Lester’s ghost who haunts those halls in fear of going to Hell and sends a message to let people know that he’s still there.

The manor is still there 200 years after the Lester murders as a museum now. Even though the gardener was hanged for the second round, there was not nearly enough evidence to convict him, especially with his solid alibi. At the time there was fear and a lot of grief building up to what could be feared as a riot with so many people in the area scared and outraged. To try to calm the situation, someone had to be convicted, and soon. The courts changed his sentence to be found innocent nearly thirty years ago, leaving the case unsolved.

On the 150th anniversary, a worker at the manor had claimed seeing the ghost of James Lester after she had been thrown down the stairs onto her back with a white hot searing pain through her stomach. He disappeared quickly, as soon as the pain lessened. There were gaping wounds and blood covering her blouse. She survived with a ton of stitches in the shape of an “X” and the trauma of what she experienced.

Someone broke in to copycat another killing for the horror story to continue. For others, it confirmed that James Lester was still around.

Tonight, if the pattern followed, then another unexplainable murder by the supernatural would occur. Which, to Nico, sounds absolutely stupid. He doesn’t believe in ghosts or anything like that. He is, however, very intrigued with the case that happened in that town and volunteered immediately to cover the story when the newspaper at Nico’s University wanted to do a horror edition for Halloween. Visiting on the 23rd would be perfect if it didn’t close every year for superstitions after the employee got hurt on the third 50th anniversary, so Nico decided to break in and stay overnight. University was the perfect time to do stupid things, after all. If he gets caught, then it would be a story to tell of the time he got arrested at nineteen. Yeah, that’s the spirit.

Turns out, breaking in is a much easier task than Nico expects. Especially when the door is just left open. Nico feels stupid for even trying, but he got cold feet about breaking down the lock and smashing the windows he doesn’t feel comfortable with. Then, lo and behold, with a gentle nudge, the door slowly creeps open, much to Nico’s shock. Grinning and chuckling at the luck that an idiot forgot to lock the door behind them, he enters to begin a night he plans to remember always. Even if nothing happens. Just because he’s skeptical doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to see if he can catch something. He is open to it.

The inside is dark… even darker than outside where the nights grew longer. Navigating the halls with his torch, the space is wide with old-fashioned carpets and trinkets from the 19th century, the Lester belongings all organized in glass cased cupboards with description tags. Honestly, there isn’t that much to see: A display of newspaper clippings about the murders and trials from both 1867 and 1917, photographs of some of the victims' wounds. There were books. A lot of bookshelves to store the yellowed pages that looked so delicate they would break easily if you breathed on them. However, Nico can completely see this home being extravagant back in its day. Servants prattling around and the adults entertaining their guests. Perhaps nannies taking the kids outside for some air. A household just running through their day. It’s a bit of a shame.

The light illuminating from the torch latches onto the staircase and travels up to meet the eyes of the Lester family portrait. Nico’s heart skips a little, suddenly finding the manor eerie and considering for a second that a quick google search would actually be enough for the article, after all, though James Lester does look quite peculiar. Even if it is just a painting, his eyes shine with love and pride as he stands next to his wife, extending his hand to clasp his daughter’s shoulder who sits in a chair with her brother in front of their parents. Everyone’s facial expressions are devoid of any emotion or spark of life, like they went to another place in their heads to escape the boredom of staying still until the painter could finally say he was done. Then there is the man himself with his lips curling into a slight smile. It isn’t creepy or forceful as it is just utter contentment. From this picture alone, it is hard to imagine a loving and religious husband and father slashing a knife around and smothering his little girl.

Moving closer up for inspection, there is a small plaque that reads:

James Lester with his wife, Elizabeth Lester and their children, David and ChristinePainted by Gustav Blom in September 1867

Drawing back somewhat, a small shiver runs down Nico’s spine. Something isn’t right. A heavy weight in his gut tells him that the painting says a lot more than people see. Painted by only about a month shy of the killings, as well. What could possibly have happened in a month? Did this Gustav Blom notice anything or feel any strange vibes that day? It is creepy. Before Nico turns away, the daughter, Christine, really seems to stand out all of a sudden. A rush of sadness and hurt pours over him like a bucket of water and he sees such innocence in her that he never saw before. It was strange for Nico to notice these small details. Taking a few quick pictures with the camera hanging around his neck, Nico pauses to look into their faces one last time before he grows uncomfortable and turns away.

The wide corridors upstairs have more displays of 19th century life, but what Nico really wants to see are the bedrooms where the murders took place, especially in Christine’s room. It isn’t hard to find. The door had been left wide open to show the display of dolls and toys she owned.

Clearly the family was rich, but preferred not to live in an extravagant home that completely matched their status. But that did not stop them from spoiling their kids. The Lester’s manor was smaller than most and was surrounded around by neighbours of lower social classes not too far over. It wasn’t like the huge palaces you see on TV with massive gardens you can take a hike in. Compared to those, this family was low-key. Even so, they didn’t buy the cheapest of furniture to fill the space.

Then there is the four poster bed, decorated with white drapes. High on the bar, almost touching the ceiling, there is no mistaking the marks where the rope dug into the wood to support the weight of a fully grown man as he struggled and became limp. A sense of dread overcomes Nico as the horror story suddenly becomes too real. A sense of heartbreak swamps him like he is grieving with a heavy heart. Tears pours down his cheeks with a large lump in his throat as he struggles to understand what is happening to him. Here is the last original evidence left intact from the original murders for people to come and see, just like the stories told. At least that part of the story was known to be true. It is the most disturbing picture he’s ever captured to store on his camera.

The temperature drops rapidly as Nico’s arms prickle with goose bumps and sucks the warmth from his skin. The dresses displayed in the open wardrobe flutter slightly like it’s from a small draft from an open window. Looking over, the window was smashed like someone had broken in before Nico had arrived. He can’t remember if the dresses or the bed drapes were moving gently like that when he walked in at first. Actually, since he walked in, he can’t seem to unjumble his thoughts, his mind in its own small state of chaos. Nico’s anxiety gets worse as he hears his heartbeat pounding loudly in his head and a loud sob he manages to trap, but struggles to hold back in his throat. He just can’t understand what is happening around him, and that makes him more upset. It is just a sad room where a girl lost her life. Not being able to take it anymore, he leaves the bedroom as fast as he can in a state of shock.

Leaning against the wall at the end of the hall, he immediately feels better, all uneasiness and emotions of grief gone, leaving him breathless. It is still chilly. Getting his breathing back under control, Nico flips through all the pictures in his camera. All images turned out clear like the way he wanted them. He can easily zoom in and read the palates in the display cases and newspaper clippings if he wants to.

Then he gets to the painting. Pausing to examine the image closer, he can’t believe it. In the corner, there is a face. At least it looks like a face. Zooming in, the features develops clearer. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth, all in a white, misty haze. How old or what gender remained a mystery but there it is with no explanation. Nico grins. This is going to be perfect for the article. Moving through the other pictures, the face gets clearer and clearer, the mouth turning into a wide smile with teeth showing. In the next one, a hand also appears, reaching out to the camera. The facial expression almost looks excited, and then in the next one, it’s gone. Nico just can’t believe it. Laughing with glee, he finally feels recovered from the earlier ordeal and, with new-found energy, is eager to continue.

Letting the camera fall around his neck, he looks around wearily for somewhere else to explore. In front of him stands one of the glass cases, but this one had been left opened. Whoever works here should get fired, that’s for sure. Curious, he takes a look.

James Lester’s wedding ring, donated by his grandniece in 1965

Then, where the ring should be is an empty space. Stolen? If he gets caught in here where he shouldn’t be, they will think he took it. Trust his luck, that is what would happen. He would have to come back tomorrow night and take some pictures like he hadn’t been here tonight so he could use these photographs, he realizes. It sounds like such a pain.

A small thud raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Turning the light down the hallway, there is another small thud like a footstep. Exactly like what the Matthews described.

James Lester?

Then it gets louder and faster and charging right at him in soft pounding steps. Hearing someone flying at him but unable to see them sends Nico into a blind panic, running back down the corridor again. The footsteps only get louder as it chases him back down, until he flings himself into Christine’s bedroom again, slamming the door with his body pressing tightly against it. Through his own ragged breathing, he swears he can hear soft breathing at the other side and hear—no, feel—another presence at the other side of the door as the floorboards beneath creak slightly. Petrified, Nico stands absolutely still, his mind quiet and eyes searching the room, wide and terrified. The dolls sit there, mocking him. This was such a dumb idea.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! The person who broke in could still be here!

He looks towards the window, wondering if maybe he can make a mad dash and jump out. Yet he can’t find the courage to move. Maybe he can just stay like this until morning when it gets light out. His thoughts become slower as his limbs grow heavier. A mist clouds his mind, making him feel groggy. Closing his eyes for a moment to shake it off, he never feels his body drop forward onto floor. He never knew how he made it onto his back into the middle of the room when his body weighs him down in a heavily drugged like state.

Despite the abrupt tiredness in his body like he had been completely paralysed, his brain remains wide awake and aware. He sees where his torch had dropped when he crashed down a few feet away from him. Its light shows two small feet and the bottom of a white night gown. There is a soft voice, the sound so low and hauntingly sweet.

“Daddy can’t stop me anymore.”

A silver glint slashes quickly as James finds he can not scream or cry out in pain as the white hot agony buries deep into his abdomen. The blade goes over it again, slower and deeper, like going over a rough sketch to make the marks permanent. Paralysed, he can only look into the eyes of Christine Lester as his guts slowly peek through and spill.