Here is the next part to my, heh, "short" story, The Harrowing Inheritance. As with part two, it will pick up exactly where I left off, and this will be the finale. If you've read this far, I appreciate your patience, and I am hoping you enjoy the ending. I've been so used to writing such larger pieces, I tend to forget just what entails a short story. Still, this is merely a freak accident in my writing, and I will do better to make sure I consecutively write short stories every week for Friday. I may also have them out on Wednesday,,depending on scheduling. However, for the readers who continually support my blog, thank you ever-so-much, and enjoy the conclusion of The Harrowing Inheritance.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. Tearing the dusty artifact ever-so-gently, Jacob was able to break apart the mummified cat. Inside were no organs. Usually the heart, brain, and lungs were removed, along with the stomach. The rest evaporate into oblivion. Inside was a shiny trinket. Just as the poem he read before breaking into sweats while choosing a cat mad his eye pain with salt, he had calmed down at the sight of the gold ring, which held the key to the poem's riddle. Jacob believed thatnthisnwould help him in his further ventures through this harrowing horror-show of hell and torment; courtesy his dearest uncle.
He fidgeted the ring out of the gaping mummy hole, and blew the dust off it, holding it up to the barely dim light, to see what exactly was on the ring. The ring was apparently placed inside the mummy, assuming,y from a hole nearly drilled in from either the back or bottom. Jacob had veery little time to investigate, and even less time to sit and ponder his uncle's extent of insanity. However, he grasped the ring as firmly as one could without having it slip easily through the thumb and index, and examined it closely like a disciplined perfectionist checking every hint of grain in concrete to make sure he got his money's worth.
Turning the ring over vicariously in his palm, he was quite surprised to feel just how light the ring of good Ctually was in his palm. It seemed almost bent to the thinnest, lightest form possible, probably to keep him from running off, pawning it, and call it a day, thought Jacob, but he still felt something was peculiar about the ring, other than the fact it came from out of a two thousand year old mummified cat.
Squinting, and taking every precaution not to literally smack himself in the iris with the ring, Jacob saw tiny writing inscribed on the inside of the ring, which ran the entire circumference. He expected there to be something written,,but never did he imagine how much was written on such a thin piece of cheap gold!
"The King was killed for Aten, martyred for his arrogance, not-so-much his absurd faith. Find the srciect to gain the key!"
Jacob knew the answer, somewhat, but not the purpose behind the riddle. Jacob knew the King mentioned in the riddle was Akhenaten, or Amanhotep IV. Jacob wasn't much if a fanciful scholar, but he loved histories, perhaps because he's always wanted to evade his own. Akhenaten was known as The Builder, for he had resurrected thousands of statues, while replacing the old gods, with images of Nefertiti, his wife, and so many giant busts of himself throughout most of the Mediterranean. He destroyed the old idols, replaced them with a god that stood above all, the sun, deified, so it did not need a standing idol to thus be worshipped. Jscob knew all the pieces involved in the next puzzle of Finder's Frog, just not the game, or the location.
In the mythos, Finder had to recover a lost artifact of a pharaoh-like king, and make it past the edge of the world with the ancient map, solving the twisting and treacherous paths throug the Dsrk Swamp.
Jacob knew he was nearing the end of his little game, but where did he go next? No clues, he even checked through, rather disgustedely, the opened mummy carcass. No, it was as bare as the day it was embalmed, and he was now at a loss, for he had no way of gaining a foothold In this game. The room itself was rather tight, considering how huge it actually was, filled to the brim with artifacts.
Doing one last clean sweep of the room, coming to the realization that the open mummy cat was beginning to stink, and too afraid to even attempt to confront the two wired mummy cats, he already felt certain doom come over himself, as his foot stepped down onto yet another floor trap. At first he thought it wasn't anything but a dud, but of course, like a tolling cacophonous scratching, ringing in his failure, came his uncle's disembodied voice over the loudspeakers. Oddly, it was more comforting than teeth-shattering, as it's been several rooms since he's heard his demented uncle's voice.
"Tsk, tsk, and you were doing so well! Perhaps you would like for me to explain what is about to happen to you, and that precious little skull of yours. I'll assume by now, you think you've cleared this room, and you have but several more to go! Barely a handful, ah the quest to find the last of this great family's fortune has come to a finicky point, but a point even I knew you would reach. It gets much more tasking from here, but do me the courtesy to not set off every single one of these traps, will you?!"
An erroneous ticking, the kind of which you hear, makes your stomach churn like a finely-settled virus, rumbled in the back of Jacob's brain. Gut instincts pressed him run out of the room faster than he'd ever thought possible, as the clicking of mechanical parts sounded out the doomsday clock chattering of the bombs. Clutching tightly to the ring, he jettisoned back out into the hallway. Clutching the door in his fantic fingers, he slammed the door behind him,mas the clicking counted down to an ominous flickering, like the snapping of metal fingers, or the fluttering of raspy silk butterfly wings.
He ran, not even allowing for his uncle's sick joke of a recorded cat's meow to ring in the explosion. The bomb was rather large, not enough to have killed Jacob, but quite large enough to render him useless in most other aspects of life, he'd have rather of been dead. Still, he carried on, still not quite sure where he was supposed to go next, but he figured then was not the time for such questioning, as he was but mere seconds away from screaming out in sheer terror.
Most other men would have seen the folly of this scavenger hunt, but Jacob felt a growing dissidence towards his disembodied debonair Uncle Diogenes. He was sick of this game, he never was a fan of Finder's Frog, this game being a bastardized vefsion of the game didn't help his confidence. One thing every Harrowing learned early on about Finder's Frog was it's instinctual behavior to be as drawl, as unimaginative as any other game, but clearly viewed as superior, or because of the absentminded way it is played, but because the lack of innovation is overshadowed by ten superiority the individuals who've concocted the game feel over their peers. Finder's Frog itself,is never truly about the half-assed story that rouses kids' interests in the family game at a young age, nor is it that feeling of being included in something the adults did on an annual basis. The sad rality of Finder's Frog was that it was proven proof that innovation and elitist mentality do not always go arm-in-arm.
Yet; this was his legacy: a bunch of lunatics that have carved out most of the map to fit their needs, now all lost to the great beyond, and leaving just one mean successor behind. Jscob took this purgation as a symbol of love, in a sick, twisted, demonizing way, this near-death experience has been a showing of love and affection on his uncle's part. Jacob reminded himself that if he where to die tonight, he'd have to meet up with Uncle Meebles in Hell, and give him a hard, square kick in the lower regions,if such regions existed in the House of the Dammned.
The game continued, as Jacob moved from room-to-room, solving puzzles, and making narrowing escapes, until it felt like second nature. He still hated himself for falling into the ploys of his uncle, as the voice didn't comfort him one bit with every ridiculing scratch of the needle. Still, Jacob found himself enticed to move on to the next room, as he discovered each adjacent room as the next I a series of room that seemed cookie-cutter identical. This was why his uncle didn't tell him to move up or down,back, or forth: these rooms were designed specifically as a puzzle, and in the ten adjacent rooms; Jacob would fine the final clue to lead him to the loot of his family's disheveled empire.
In each of the ten rooms were mannequin hands. All right hands, seemingly glued to differnt color stands, eerily protruding outward, as if reaching for Jacob's last bit of sanity. Jacob wasn't necessarily a bright man, probably not even among the common of brains, but even he was aware of how these series of rooms would play out, and he knew it was up to him to pick right. He knew the history of the Builder King, he knew one of these arms would spell great fortune for him, and he was wearily aware of choosing the wrong ones would put him in dire peril. Perhaps he didn't care anymore about the money, perhaps he didn't care about his safety, because Jacob had survived for hours now, trying to get something the rest of the world, it seemed, felt didn't belong to him.
Door after door, even after running back and forth, they all seemed to add up in the hundreds, but something was amiss. Clearly his uncle wanted him to die, but he had given Jacob the most help out of any, like a bit of his subconscious is almost trying to egg him on towards success. Ten arms, outstretched: dolls' arms. It was beyond frigthening to Jacob, looking down at his analog watch, the time read four forty-five. He stepped into one of the rooms, and clutching the ring so tightly his left hand went numb, he glanced over the outstretched arm, sitting stop a red stand. It looked too real, almost like porcelain glass, or encased in formaldehyde.
Any one of these arms could be right. What would the consequences be? What would happen if he chose the wrong hand? Jacob pondered this viral round of questioning, relaxing his hand, and revealing the lovely golden ring. He wasn't sure if this would be a smart move to place the ring on a finger, whichever one was the right finger, but this was the more complexed of puzzles he'd come across, but he didn't see just how this was supposed to be a fair trial.
The old familiar scratching sound came out of very well hidden speakers, and for a moment,mon matter the insanity spewed from out of the horns, Jacob didn't feel quite as alone in those few moments his uncle's pmosthumous voice blared st him.
"In ten rooms, stretch ten arms, and from those ten arms come ten pedestals, and each pedestal is of a unique color. Here in this first room is one the color of red. The others are green, yellow, blue, orange, purple, pink, periwinkle, turquoise, and white. If you solve this puzzle, you will be but one task away to finding your Frog. Ill assume you've assumed that the ring from several rooms back is what you need for these rooms. You are correct, but there is a lot more that you'll need to do to survive this room, and the nine more on this floor. You may remember these were all guests rooms for times when the family would have rousing holiday feasts, and lovely summer get-togethers. Now, they house ten arms, each as symmetrical as the next. All of them are alike. No two are different, not even the slightest. The colors are all thwt separate them.
"The purpose of this trial is to see how well you adapt to adversity. Perhaps you're confused on what I want out of you,and in-truth, I'd rather love to see you fail here and now. The rules are simple: use the story as a guide, but it will not be the end-all for this particular task. Also, once you start, you may not stop, and you will die if you attempt to exit early. You have until six a.m. To complete the tasks at hand, or else you will be amongst the rubble of what I'll be the Harrowing estate. If you do. It follow the instructions of which I am about to give, you will die, and will join the rest of us in a hell, where I assure you we will shun you like a mongrel dog. Good luck, Jacob, and remember: Finder's Frog is life."
The Harrowing conclusion will be out on Wednesday, it will be much shorter than this, but it want to make it extra special, and duly apologize for the lack of continuity. I rather the story take thirty parts, so long as it's at least on par of what people want, but well-above all expectations. I will also be sending out my E3 Sony Press Conference come Monday. I will also be doing a review of Bstman:Arkham Knight when ever I can, and a review of the movie Ted 2 come some time next week. I have been thoroughly enjoying this story, and I hope you are as well, and I will have part IV done, and it will be the final part, and it will be fitting to this strange journey I've gone in to write this oddball tale.
The Hsrrowing Inhereitence was just supposed to be a short random story, and honestly even I'm not 100% certain how it will end, but I have a sound-minded idea of just where it's going from here. I thank you for the support,and thank you so much for sticking with this ridiculously long short story, as I know it's been a wild ride. I'm sorry if I've promised it complete today, but you will not have to wait long for the finale. I promise you, it will be completed by Wednesday. If I can hustle and get I to a proper groove, you may even see it out by Monday, but I'm aiming for Wednesday, andi hope you look forward to the true, finite conclusion of The Harrowing Inheritence.
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