It was one of many unusual rooms in his Grandfather's house but it was the one that made him call the police. He'd been tempted the moment he walked in and saw old bloodstains on the floor, tiny handprints along the skirting boards and smelled the sickly sweet stench of decaying meat.
Before he even got to that room he had to pass through the foyer, squeezing between stacks and stacks of old newspapers and junk mail that turned an entryway into a labyrinth. He nearly lost his footing a dozen or so times, only making the mistake to look down once when he saw that he'd trodden in the slippery remains of a rat. He didn't want to know what else was half buried under old gazettes.
When he reached the living room, that was when he found the first real sign that his grandfather had been everything the rumours claimed. It was a figure on the sofa, tucked away in a corner and almost hidden behind a mountain of mouldy books.
She was so dusty, so smothered in cobwebs that at first glance she looked like a doll. Stepping closer he caught a glimpse of thin spider-legs climbing into her open mouth, saw her lap full of teeth and egg sacks in their place. He didn't dare look closer or even nudge her in case she, the only evidence of his grandfather's crimes, collapsed and his case with it.
It didn't even matter that the old man was dead, he just wanted peace for all the grieving family's that the bastard had left in his wake. His grandmother's family was the first, with her sudden death on her twenty third birthday and his sudden enrollment in the army (allegedly forced by suspicious brother-in-laws who knew better than to trust him with his own child).
He didn't even know who this child might have been, there were so many names and a fair dozen or so didn't even have photos, their cases dated back too far. This poor child had been naturally mummified by the dry, dusty air and whatever chemicals his grandfather had poisoned her with.
He turned away just in time to miss her blink and look up at him.
Before he even got to that room he had to pass through the foyer, squeezing between stacks and stacks of old newspapers and junk mail that turned an entryway into a labyrinth. He nearly lost his footing a dozen or so times, only making the mistake to look down once when he saw that he'd trodden in the slippery remains of a rat. He didn't want to know what else was half buried under old gazettes.
When he reached the living room, that was when he found the first real sign that his grandfather had been everything the rumours claimed. It was a figure on the sofa, tucked away in a corner and almost hidden behind a mountain of mouldy books.
She was so dusty, so smothered in cobwebs that at first glance she looked like a doll. Stepping closer he caught a glimpse of thin spider-legs climbing into her open mouth, saw her lap full of teeth and egg sacks in their place. He didn't dare look closer or even nudge her in case she, the only evidence of his grandfather's crimes, collapsed and his case with it.
It didn't even matter that the old man was dead, he just wanted peace for all the grieving family's that the bastard had left in his wake. His grandmother's family was the first, with her sudden death on her twenty third birthday and his sudden enrollment in the army (allegedly forced by suspicious brother-in-laws who knew better than to trust him with his own child).
He didn't even know who this child might have been, there were so many names and a fair dozen or so didn't even have photos, their cases dated back too far. This poor child had been naturally mummified by the dry, dusty air and whatever chemicals his grandfather had poisoned her with.
He turned away just in time to miss her blink and look up at him.
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