Clairissa's Revenge

Clairissa stared at their faces as she felt the whip burn its way through the tender flesh of her bare back and thighs. There was no way she would escape this torture. Her life would end in this horrible, desolate house, with no witnesses but monsters and perverts. The same monsters and degenerates that were at this moment taking a grievously large amount of pleasure from her pain. 1

Closing her eyes against her torture, the image of the mansion pervaded her mind. His cold, nimble fingers looped the rope gracefully about her neck, and she recalled stories she had heard—whispered only in the light of day—of terrible midnight screaming and moaning, eerie lights at the windows, the taint of blood in the air. The last thought in Clairissa’s mind was of her betrayal, and she vowed revenge, somehow. His lips pressed hers in a final moment of humiliation, then the rope went taught and her body limp.2

Amanda first saw the house from the windows of her car, nearly a mile down the road. It was built upon the top of a small hill, so large it almost could be called a castle. A shallow moat with a low level of squalid water surrounded stark grey stone walls looming up a hundred feet into the air. A large sharp peaked turret rose from its far end. 3

Amanda made a mental note to ask the servants about its history as she mused to herself “Who had built this ominous appearing monument to the past, and why? Had some long dead lord built it for his happy family, his children? Why was there no family now in residence? Why would none of the local villagers come near to it and why did they avert their glances when they learned of her destination?”4

Exiting the car, she walked across the old bridge spanning the moat, cringing at the creaks that echoed solemnly beneath her feet. Looking down at the filthy water beneath the bridge, she wondered just what exactly she’d gotten herself into. This house was not what she had left college for, not what she had dreamed of living in, definitely not the kind of house she’d ever thought of remodeling. But she was here now, committed to a contract with the Realtors, and she planned to accomplish this job, no matter the chills running down her spine.5

“Mum, are you Miss. LeMay?” A raspy old voice asked from inside the dark doorway. “I am Mrs. Cadaver, the housekeeper. May I take your bags? Thank you, mum.” Her long bony hand waited for no response, but reached, grasping the largest bag from Amanda’s hands.6

“I am, but please call me Amanda.” Amanda wondered how long she’d been working here. At least a hundred years or so, from the looks of the old woman. She followed her into the house and up the grand stairway in the entry hall, to a long hallway on the second floor.7

“What is the story to this place? It’s absolutely amazing.” She whispered, running her hands along the intricately carved balustrade and wall paneling.8

“The house was built by the Duke of Birmingham in the 18th century. The family lived a lonely life here, far from friends and neighbors. The stories say that first his wife deserted him for his own brother, and then his children abandoned the family estate for London, where his son” –here her voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial whisper— “ was a sexual deviant and his daughter a prostitute. He committed suicide by hanging himself in the bedroom in the great tower where he and his wife first bedded, where his children were born. The house was abandoned and deserted for over two hundred years, and then a foreign woman was abducted and brought here, tortured and murdered. No one really knows why. Some of the villagers say it was because she was a witch, but personally I believe it was because she refused to marry a local prominent lord. She supposedly was hung in the same room in which the Duke killed himself. That was over a hundred years ago, and of course none of us was here then, so we really don’t know the truth to any of this.”9

“You said a foreign woman? So she came from another country then?”10

“No mum, to the locals ‘foreign’ means everyone who isn’t from their own village, even just another village only three or four miles away. I’m afraid that they’re rather clannish and close-knit in these parts.”11

The two women had reached what apparently was to be Amanda’s room. Impressive double doors carved from beautiful dark oak, trimmed with cast iron inlays, opened onto an immense room with curved stone walls. Stained glass windows cast odd red and yellow shapes across the immense bed in the center of the room that had a wooden headboard and foot board that matched the doors. Slightly rusted, the long tendrils of metal inlays stretched above and to the side of the bed like avaricious fingers. 12

The blood red cover looked large and soft, as did the crimson and cream pillows. Amanda looked around at the daedalian wooden carvings hanging on the dark stone walls, realizing with a start that this had to be the master bedroom!
She again wondered what kind of man had first built this house, what kind of man who was so socially repressed that he could not live with what choices his children made. 13

Amanda looked up at the large wooden rafters directly above the bed and shivered. She heard a deathly wail that seemed to scream out a woman’s name, and a deep, dreadful cold advanced over her entire body in a terrifying heartbeat! Her teeth chattered, her fingers went numb, her very breath frosted in the air before her. Staring through the mist of her own crystallized breath, she saw the translucent shape of a woman hanging from the rafters above the bed take form. The body dripped blood, and for an instant the covers were red from blood, not the crimson dye, the ivory bled. Turning to flee this apparition, Amanda saw another corpse hanging from the ceiling. This was a man, and he had no blood dripping from him, but his opalescent milky blue eyes were staring, staring so fiercely at her that she blacked out.14

When she woke, Mrs. Cadaver was standing above her, the annoyance on her face and in her voice apparent. 15

“What was that display about? I’ll not have anyone who cannot control herself like a child, screaming and fainting, in my house!” She turned and stalked out.16

Amanda stared up at the expansive peaked roof above the rafters, unable to forget the images, the scream, or the name she had heard. The scream had been the name ‘Clairissa’. Frantic, she wondered why this happening to her? Why had Mrs. Cadaver not heard the scream or seen the apparitions? Moreover, what had she meant, ‘her house’? She had said she was just the housekeeper.17

Casting her doubts aside, Amanda prepared herself for her first night in this house that was to be her first design creation, the master test of her abilities and ideas as a decorator, and apparently, the master test of her own sanity.18

Amanda awoke early the next morning, and the first thing she saw was a young woman, silent and ghostly pale, standing beside the bed. A strange quiet was about the house. Thinking the girl was her maid; she arose and nodded as she walked into the dressing-room, the girl smiled softly and turned away. 19

Downstairs at breakfast, going through her plans for the house, she remembered reading in a letter from the Realtors that only one other woman servant beside the housekeeper, an equally-ancient cook, had been hired for the remodeling. It was getting too weird, and frightening. Something told Amanda that if she didn’t leave, and soon, she might never leave, but she ignored the warnings her intuition was screaming. 20

Her competitive spirit told her that if she didn’t complete the contract on remodeling this house, some other hungry decorator would, and she needed both the money and recognition. Therefore, she would keep on with this contract. As Amanda worked, she failed to notice a dark shadow had been cast over the house and all its surrounding area.21

Clairissa stared at the rafters above the bed, frustration marring her face. She had showed Amanda two of the bodies of those murdered in this cursed house, spoken her own name, even appeared to the woman this morning, yet she was not getting the message or heeding the warning. What else could she do? There was only one more way that Clairissa could contact her, but she feared that so much. She knew that the old woman would agree to it, she always agreed, but would it work this time? It hadn’t last time, and the result was Clairissa having to once more go through the torture. She had felt the whip eating through skin, and the rope tightening around her neck, and was reluctant to do it yet another time. How many times had she relived the same torment, over and over, only to have another girl murdered along with her? Nevertheless, she would risk it, it was her last resort. Amanda had to see what had happened, had to get out in time and save all of them!22

Amanda, finally noticing the cloud that had formed over the area, went to the library and sat in a deep-cushioned wing-back chair in front of the small fire. She remembered the young woman she had seen this morning.23

Calling out to Mrs. Cadaver as she passed the library doors, Amanda asked “Have you any other woman employed here to help you, a maid or serving girl?” 24

Pondering the old woman’s answer, a negative shake of her head without ever stopping, Amanda fell asleep in the comfortable chair. Waking upon the last stroke of the mantle clock at midnight, she heard again the name ‘Clairissa’ being called, but did not feel the chill or sense of dread as before.25

Both Clairissa and the old woman were hurting together, aching with all the energy-sapping pain both of their bodies could stand, but they had to hold out. Amanda had to come now. If she didn’t, then there was no way she would survive, no way any of them would get out, and he would live again. Clairissa had talked to the old woman, who of course had agreed. However, she now realized it was not such a good idea. What they and Amanda would be subjected too, the sights and feelings and pain, were far worse than humans should have to bear. But it was too late now, it had begun.26

As she walked cautiously down the corridor, she recognized the voice that had called out ‘Clairissa’ as Mrs. Cadaver’s. At the door to her own room, she hesitated, then took a deep breath and entered. The young woman she had thought was her maid was kneeling at the foot of the bed, with her hands stretched out before her, trapped tightly within the long metal fingers of the bed frame . For what seemed like an eternity, Amanda just stared in bewilderment, because she knew that despite her young appearance this actually had to be the old woman, and then she too knelt down beside the old woman and cried out the name’ Clairissa’. 27

Amanda’s body faded, she felt lashing pain across her back, heard a crowd of men calling degrading names at her, laughing and catcalling. Between lashings she felt groping hands, rough and rude, infiltrating her body, and disgracing her femininity.
Then a man stood above them, tall and beautiful, with icy eyes, long blond hair and a trim frame, but he the pitiless whip in his hand and she knew that he was malevolent, vicious, and vile, despite all his beauty! His thin mustache quivered above the sneering gaunt lips, and his eyes glowed with more than lust.28

Clairissa had been a respectable young widow from another village, she had met and fallen in love with Arthur, she had been engaged to him, had moved to his village while preparing for their wedding. A local magistrate had taken a fancy to the young widow, and offered his hand, his money, his prominence. She followed her heart and refused. He took to having her every move watched, trying to panic her into marrying him, but still she refused.29

Then one night, she received a missive. Arthur had been taken; she was to meet the magistrate’s man at twenty till midnight. She agreed, tears staining her face, and followed him to the old Birmingham house, where she was met, not by her beloved, but by a group of men, a coven formed for monstrous purpose. She was horrified at what she saw, so much so that she fought and tried to flee, but a meager woman was no match for that many men. 30

They carried her up back up to the great bedroom and began her humiliation and torture. Her own beloved Arthur watched with blood in his eyes as she was stripped, bound to the foot of the old bed, and forced until her consciousness faded. He himself was the first to touch the red-hot irons to her, but not the last. Next, she was forced to kneel, hands bound to the frame of the bed, and whipped and further degraded. An eternity later, she heard the magistrate sentence her to death, plotting a cover story that she had been a witch. They put a noose around her neck, and Arthur kissed her mangled lips before the rope jerked her off her feet, up towards the rafters and blessed release from her pain.31

There had been no release, however. Somehow, Clairissa was bound to the pain and place of her death, although none of his other victims seemed to be. The magistrate, who she now knew was the first Earl’s sexual deviant son (the Earl had not committed suicide, but had been murdered by his son for his inheritance, so he could use the estate to finance his debauched life in London) returned to the old house every thirty-five years to renew the coven by murdering another innocent maid. 32

She did not learn how he had extended his unnatural lifespan, but somehow the blood of a young woman played a ghastly part. Clairissa tried to warn each new victim, tried to help them, because she knew that if one could escape, he would be finished and she would have release at last. None of them had escaped, however, and Clairissa relived her own torture and death again with each of them. Now, at last in Amanda she was sure that they had the strength together to finally defeat him!33

Clairissa screamed deep within her soul. She had entered first the old woman to trick the monster and bring him here in time, and now Amanda to use her to defeat him, and was going through the torture twice over. It was almost more than she could bear, but everything she could bear was spared the two living women. 34

At first, Amanda could do nothing but stare at the man standing before her, with the sting of the whip on her back. She now knew that she had failed, she had ignored the warnings, even ignored Clairissa when she had appeared to her. Now the same fate as Clairissa and those others would befall her. The magistrate had returned, and now would take her as well. Then Clairissa used all the power that was left in her to call Amanda, to scream out Amanda’s name with her own voice, because she had gone through this too many times before, and if she didn’t make Amanda act, Amanda and the old woman would both die, and Clairissa’s torture would go on, eternally.35

Amanda felt the last sting of the whip into her back, heard her own voice scream out her own name with another’s will, and came to her senses. Clairissa and Amanda both rose in Amanda’s body and attacked him, two, as one. They pounced on him, kicking, and hitting with a fury. Now that Amanda was awake, Clairissa left her and used the old woman’s body to aid her, hitting Arthur from the other side. He was overpowered, and soon trussed like a hog in the very rope he had planned to hang tonight’s victim with. 36

Revenge was something Clairissa had vowed, and now she would have it, revenge for herself and justice for all of his victims. Amanda watched in horror as Clairissa picked up the blood encrusted whip he had dropped and glided over to where he lay on the floor. As Clairissa’s arm drew back to lash him, Amanda grabbed the whip from her.37

“No, look at this putrid thing! Covered in blood, in yours, mine, in who knows how many others’? Look at him, detestable and foul! If you use this, even on him, then you’ll just become what he is.”38

Clairissa let the old woman take control; let her speak for all of them. “We need revenge! I’ve sworn to every victim, with every lash and pain we all endured, that someday I would pay him back every lash, every burn, every strangled breath.”39

“No” Amanda pleaded. “Look at him. When you drew back your arm, he wanted you to hit him. He knew your anger would save him, not destroy him, because you would become him. Look at him now. With every word I say, he is getting weaker. He’s dying! That is what will kill him, that is what will destroy his evil forever, to show compassion! Banish him, erase him, forget about him, and he won’t have any power left. He’ll die!”40

Clairissa looked at Arthur on the floor. He had betrayed her, he had murdered her, he had destroyed and murdered others, and now she knew he would pay for it. He would be banished from all thought, all knowledge, all existence, he would no longer exist because she would not let him exist. She had succeeded, her own murder was avenged, and Amanda had escaped. Even with this thought, he seemed to shrivel and shrink, aging into the dry husk of a three hundred year old corpse before their eyes. She watched him crumble to dust. All was as it should be. Clairissa laughed, a hollow, eerie sound, but somehow, happy one, and was gone. 41

Amanda watched the other woman’s face change, becoming her own care worn and wrinkled visage, instead of Clairissa’s face. Amanda now realized the truth. The old woman saw comprehension dawn in Amanda’s eyes, and nodded.42

“Yes, you understand. Clairissa was my mother. She left me with others in our own village while she came here to prepare a new life for us, and I never saw her again. I was eight years old , and that was 105 years ago this very night. When my own children grew up and left home and my husband died, I finally began to search for her. I eventually got here and heard the terrible stories. That was over fifty years ago, and we have been here together, waiting for his next victim’s time so that we could finally destroy him. We have had thirty long years of being friends, more than many mothers and daughters ever hope for. 43

When you arrived, we didn’t dare tell you outright, but we were trying to warn and prepare you, because we were sure about you, and if you had run away, we would have been lost again. He would just snatch some poor witless girl from some neighboring village for his evil purpose, and we would never have been able to stand against him.44

But after that second visit by my mother in your bedroom this morning, we knew that you had to be the one, that you were really, finally the one who would be strong enough to help us.45

Now she’s free, all his evil is dead and dust as he. They’re all free!”46

“Yesterday, when I first saw Clairissa in the bedroom, you told me this was your house. It really is your house, isn’t it, yours and Clairissa’s? Amanda asked.47

“Yes, I am the money behind the Realtor. My husband and I had a long, happy life together, and were quite well off. When I found my mother, I set the wheels in motion to buy this place, trying to use it against him. 48

You know, you are not the first person we tried to find to help us. I have had twelve other decorators and designers here over this past 20 years, searching for the right person. And you, Amanda, number thirteen, were the right person. I hope you understand just how strong you are.”49

The old woman looked at Amanda, and then shook her head. “Amanda, I’m tired. I’m one-hundred and thirteen years old, and now I’ve done the last thing I set out my life to do, saved my mother, with your help. I’m tired. I’m too old to work, especially in a place the size of this house!50

I already had the paperwork drawn up, I was that confident in you. The house is yours now, with two provisos. 51

We need to prepare a grave for my mother in the garden. Oh, I know that we’ll never know where her body really is, but that won’t matter. I just want a place to go and sit so I can still talk to her, like I have for the past fifty years.52

And I’ve lived here for so long; I would like to keep my little room behind the kitchen, if you wouldn’t mind.”53

Amanda took the older woman’s hand. “Mind? Your mother and I were the same person for a few minutes, shared the same body, and I felt her feelings, needs, pain. I want you to tell me everything you can about her. I never knew my own mother, but if it’s okay, I want to know our mother Clairissa better.”