This is a bit longer than most short stories I write, but just short of a novella/novelette, so I've decided to split it into two parts. I feel it will also give people the time to read it, and not feel over encumbered, because I feel most blog posts tend to be shorter than even my shortest post. So for the sake of the readers, this will be part one, part two will be released next Friday.
This is a suspense short story I've written in the guise of a Poe-inspired, and (slightly) Lovecraft-inspired tale.
Whenever Jacob Harrowing heard the caw of a crow outside the window of Harrowing Manor. It was wispy autumn night, he always pictured a murder of the black fiends bringing about the last whirling gust of wind to eliminate the carcass of leaves from their brittle branch. This wind grew chilly, forcing bones to rattle against skin, bundled up in sweaters of cotton and wool. Jacob closed the window, allowing the fading echo to screech to a hault against the wooden wall of his study, a light drizzle fell from the hellish clouds above, that whirled into place on the backs of vampire bats.
He was a short man, stout with gritty, oily, albeit surprising single healthy hair. He was do shelved from caring more about consequences that did not pertain to personal hygiene, as the night rain went as quickly as it came,and parted into the clearest sky, on the fullest harvest moon. Antiquities about the room shined in bronze, and old-world tarnishes, as the whispering of cold licked the outside of the manor, trying to sneak I to every crevice that could be found.
A man of once great stature,even in the most narrow of sense, Jacob Harrowing lied down in his uncle's enormous master chair, which barely allowed him to touch floor, even while perched as upright as possible without teetering out of the velvet-lined work of art. It a stupendous chair, the kind of masterful piece of furniture that commanded the attention of kings,and housed the bottom of a man of great stature,great prowess, now home to a shallower figure, a form nearly troll-like with only a glimmer of the image of the great man who had passed genes on to this dwarfish man.
Alas, Jscob Harrowing pulled the turquoise blanket his own dear other had knitted, and coddled like the little infantile snot he was in the arms of legacy, the fire crackling soundly, flawlessly just feet away.
The manor was grand and old, far better a piece of real estate than sny in the countryside. It came from old money, lofty, snickering money, which held blood ties as deep as the blood spilt to hsve kept it within the Harrowing name. Great men, or monsters; depending the side of history one resided upon, who have kept the country in cohesive peace, whether by conversion, or exile, the Harrowings were eccentrics that were both loved and despised, but obsessed over nevertheless.
The family had pride, power, and persevered with only desire as the firepit to rumble their bellies to fight for what was theirs, never folding to opposition, and never forgetting the route they took to become the superpower they we're now. They never forgot their forefathers, and practiced freely their mantra,without hindrance from even the strictest of sects. They ruled with no agenda, they pitied no poor, and gave justly to those deserving of their love and charity. Like gods, they stood as pillars of freedom,and that hurt the people who would rather be ruled like childish sheep, of bear the burden of thinking, and taking responsibility for themselves.
Jacob knew his family's bloodline, he knew what disgrace he brought to his family, he knew he was a coward, and would sell out, or buy in to whatever trickster or fool that would give him a false salvation. Yet he knew the Harrowing name was one that was more powerful than any man, woman, or child, the name itself had become it's own entity. As the fire roared and flickered, as if it wee disciplining Jacob with a barrage of yelling and disappointment, he loosened up the itchy turquoise blanket, and felt the heat of sheer embarrassment. He was taught to do as he wanted,to take a wife or husband when he was mature enough to deal with the complexities of marriage. Though foreplay and fucking were never snuffed in his family's eyes, it was frowned upon to make a commitment as strong as marriage, and. It hold up the bargain. The punishments were usually held within the family's Inner Circle, and full of humiliations that went well beyond the capital law of the land. It was all about pride, envious pride most did not quite understand. Nights like this, where the wind gawped out Jscob's name in deafening wisps, he knew that the terrors of his family's bloody legacy were to be at his doorsteps.
Though he was the only heir to the Harrowing fortunes, raised by artisans, doctors, men of lore so bold and strong,they made mountains quiver like lichen in the breeze. Jacob was always the most frightful of children, nearly whimpering over the loud sound outside, or the chilling whispers that ran up and down the pipes on the inside. The freaks and thuds both sent him into near terrors so stifling, he was scared to even check if his heart was still beating.
The clock struck an unnerving midnight twang, as daunting as the bell of a funeral mass. The wind began to smack the green shutters against the window panes, making a disturbing rapping noise that sent Jacob curling up deeper into the chair. Twang! Twang! Twang! The ringing in his ears was more defining than a banshee exciting O Fortuna in his ears. Jacob could not bear the agonizing sting that was caused by years of malnutrition and silent, beguiling screams, not ever being exposed to anything over ten decibels in his privileged, elitist upbringing.
The hours roamed by, like theiving wolves to snatch up the virgins, young and fair, but Jacob could only calm his ever-thumping heart with warm, reminiscing thoughts of his youth. The Harrowing pedigree was one of egalitarian bias, for everyone was under scrutiny of Harrowing spite, both below and above their so cortical standing. It was blissful, but more importantly, it was just, and Jacob knew better than to ruffle the feathers of the universe, as he pined over his fortunes, but from so very far away.
His Great Uncle Meebles Diogenes Harrowing left for Jacob a treasure trove of old family heirlooms and trash worth more than the vessel they were carried in, and would all but be his playthings if he were to placate to one of Meebles' games. He would have to stay in the loft of the Harrowing Mansion, for a night. Meebles was a trickster in his own right, died drinking a mixture of witch hazel and ox blood, trying to immasuclate himself, and join the superior sex of the pseudo-hermaphorodite. He had a very unique way about himself, as eccentric a madman as the family could manufacture. Even in a house bred of madness, Uncle Meebles was a special kind of fuck-up.
It wasn't just one night in the mansion of childhood youth that had dilapidated into a frightening maelstrom of brick and wood. No, old Meebles wanted Jacob to play a game of Finder's Frog, a past-the-time rudimentary game for leisure weekends, or rainy vacations, concocted by the family over several generations. Every Harrowing knew how to play Finder's Frog, it was as rich and as illustrious a lore as the family's ancestry. The purloined idea came from many sources, many games, as any new idea stems off so many of old. Yet, it had it's own rites, it's own laws, that were truly, unapologetically Harrowing.
The wind crashed one last great time as the twang of the clock herald its final tome for the night, ushering in midnight. Jscob's game started, as a light rain fell onto the leaky, pagoda-style rooftop, the clay titles seemed to pop with every patter of hard water. An old phonograph, as if on uce, began to play a standard, full of bliss, and somber strings, which echoed the coming of Spring. With a masterful blast, the horns came in triumphantly, then faded gently again into the background, like Beethoven's ghost shouting "boo!" Then hiding away.
"Good evening, dear nephew! It is I, Meebles Diogenes Harrowing, the most poorly named Harrowing, calling to you from beyond the grave!"
Jacob began to shiver and shake with the fright of a wet chihuahua in the Artic breeze. Could Uncle Meebles truly be speaking to him from somewhere in the afterlife? Could he really be out there, reassuring the fears Jscob had of this hellish mansion?
"I chide you, Jacob! It is merely a recording, but sadly this means I have passed, and with a bad run of luck, you are the last Harrowing, as was expected. Alas, I'm sorry to say that you must carry the name forward through the ages, and this by birthright, gives you the family fortunes. However, I will. To hand it over without some hesitance, you will have to fight for it, such is the Harrowing way! Now I only have mere minutes left to record, these confounded things are nowhere near as great for recording than the new forty inch records, but this was cheaper, and you know we like to pinch the pennies. The left explains what you must do, and if the imbeciles over at the law offices can get simple instructions right, you have already been given the instructions on what I want, and when you get the money. Thwt is, if you're successful. Oh! I must add, I've left the newly revised rules to our wonderful family game in the top dresser drawer of the master bedroom, just a floor down, and the first door on the right of the loft.
Be sure to read the instructions thoroughly, I know you young bloods love to read over the damn instructions, especially if they seem nearly impossible. So take care! Good luck, and make us Harrowings proud! Or else you may just join us all soon, from dying of shame! Nighty-night!"
The record stopped playing, as Jacob removed himself from the chair, draping the turquoise blanket over the arms, and looking over the short list he was given by his uncle's lawyer:
1. Stay one night at Harrowing Mansion on the specified date, arrive before midnight.
2. Wait in the loft for information on further instructions on F2.
3. Complete the night, without folly, and you will be given your just rewards.
It seemed simple, he knew that Finder's Frog was what he'd be expected to be playing, it was as traditional as a hostile takeover in the Harrowing clan. F2 was a code for Finder's Frog so outsiders couldn't even begin to surmise what the game was, it was strictly Harrowing. Jacob did not hesitate, gaining a little bit of confidence, as he made his way down to the Master bedroom, feeling a sense of adventure building up from this exciting game. He hated adventure, but this one felt almost prideful, as though it was a lasting testament that his family did give a damn.
Inside the top dessert drawer of the bedroom were the rules of Finder's Frog, something he knew for decades,having first played it as a seven-year-old in the moist basement of his grandparents' summer home on rainy June nights. However, his Uncle Meebles seemed to completely change the rules to fit this particular night:
Dearest Jacob,
Alas, I'm probably dead if you're reading this, but the end comes for us all, duly note this, as it will come for you as well....will it be tonight? You see, you were always the outcast of this family, everyone saw you as a miscreant, skating along on the Harrowing name. Oh, yes! It's sad to say but even dear mommy and daddy saw you as a pest, but not I! I saw you as blood, and blood you are! I may have treated you distastefully, but I always saw you as family, and you got the shaft like anyone else in this damned bloodline.
So you are the last one, the irony of this is almost karmic, hilarious in perspective. You were so unlike the rest of us, perhaps that's why you're not dead so young. We are an eccentric class, and so I waste not anymore of your time, as I've done so enough with fanciful banter, but give you your test. Finder's Frog is a legend the family concocted nearly a hundred years ago. Nobody else knows the tale, nobody else knows the game, we hold something more treasured than any jewel or gem, and that is a family tradition. Bastardized as it may be, Finder's Frog is our true legacy. I want you to treasure it, Jacob, more than the money, the estate, even the whores and concubines that come with the territory of being a Harrowing.
Respect the game, as it was meant to be played, and you'll walk away with everything. If you want to turn away, I suggest you leave now, and let the heirlooms die with the rest of the family. You have stayed in the house now for several hours, but you have only until six a.m. to complete the game. If now, well, just read the instructions, ALL of them, I cannot empathize that more! Also, read the new rules! For after tonight, these will forever be the rules that you too shall pass on to your kin. Good luck!
Jacob looked over the list, it was much longer than any list or rules he had practically memorized in his near thirty years on Earth. His face began to freeze, as the mortified mold took the place of his crooked smile:
Revised Rules For Finder's Frog:
Story: Finder was a famous tracker of the lagoon-based tribe; the Yogsogoth, and he had a pet named Frog. Legend has it that Frog escaped one day, and made his way across the lagoon, past the forest, along the rocky edge of the world, and settled down in the mires of the Dark Swamp. Finder, knowing he could not live without his best friend Frog, decided to take the journey to the edge of the world and bring his friend back to the lush lagoon. He had three trials to take: the trial of cold, the ariid trial, and the trial of loyalty. Each task posed a dire threat to Finder, but he was determined to get back his pet, Frog. So he traversed the world, and seeked the one thing that he knew made him happy.
Your task is play the role of Finder, and uncover Frog from the Dark Swamp. You will do this in three stages: the same as the trials that Finder took from out of the forest, through along the world's edge, and finally discovering Frog in the Dark Swamp.
Finder's Frog can be played with up to five people, or alone, the amount of players does not hurt the gameplay, as each player must find their own way to Frog by solving an array of challenges.
Playing singles:
1. Player must navigate the premade map, avoiding any troubles, traps, or missteps. I've devised this mansion to be the perfect map for your quest, Jacob. Be forewarned, this isn't the silly childish game you remember!
2. Player must move throughout the "world" and find the clues to lead him/her back to Frog. Another player has to set up a maze prior, and the Finder will have to navigate such maze without help, or without direction. Clues must be left to make the game sport. The player must Frog before the a preset amount of time, or the game is a botch, and nobody wins. Consequences can be made my the opposing player for failing to find Frog.
3. If the Finder can obtain frog in the alloted time, they will be rewarded. The game begins whenever the rules have been fully understood, as truly no two Finder's Frog are alike.
The rules ended,mbut a side note by dear Uncle Meebles was handwritten at the end:
Good luck! Hunt whilst you can, dear Jacob! You have until dawn's light to find Frog! Do not fail me! Jacob! Prove you are worthy of the Harrowing name, for once in your miserable, mundane life!
The letter ended, and Jacob looked at his pocket watch, the time was 1:11 a.m., and he knew in but six hours he had to complete the maniacal game, else he would be left penniless on the streets,tossed aside as another remanant of high society. The Harrowings were brutal, they didn't suffer humility like so many others of Old Money, instead, they heralded in a great deal of merciless gripe towards even the weakest of the pack. Cannibalisitc, and mad. Jacob would soon rather die than to be lock-in-step with the rest of the bunch, but he needed that fortune, it would be the start of a new era in the Harrowing dynasty, and it was all but within reach.
He made his way to the hallway, and down the stairs, heading towards the main hall of the decrepit mansion. He knew enough about this game, that it wasn't as simple as following the directions. Jacob knew that it was all a mind game for the Uncle, every member of the family who've ever schemed, or plotted out the game for the children, did so in their own crafty, individualistic way. Finder's Frog, Jacob had learned at such a tender young age, was never, ever about Finder's Frog. So in quick fashion, he made his way to the first floor, where his uncle always greeted guest.
The main corridors were larger than most mansions, they resembled a baleen whale's gaping abyss, a spectacle to behold for any man, but the awe of a child, especially in Jacob's fondest memories,MIT was like stepping through the islet of God. It had a mystical, queer familiarity about it that screamed into the soul: "Abandon! Abandon now!"
Jacob entered the mouth of the room, and spun around in circles, three-sixty degrees of power in just one formal structure. One of many that made up the Harrowing estate. Even a sprout like himself off the branch of the great family tree, was in awe of what was rightfully his. A step forward more, as a button underneath his shoe was triggered, something amiss for sure, as it was never there before. He had the privileges of scaling this whole estate barefoot as a lad, he knew the grain on every surface, and this was clearly a recent renovation. The requiem sung up from a distant speaker, the same scratchy sound off the phonograph once again bellowed out his uncle's dearly departed voice.
"Ah, how well you know me, Jacob. Such an observant boy. I know your mother saw fit to fill you all of drugs for that elongated stare, those endless summer days staring at the wondrous droplets of water from heavy rains, or the more fascinating conundrum of dew drops at dawn. I always knew you were the most special of lads, and for that, this game of Finder's Frog has been built especially to your skills. However, do not be coy in taking your sweet time, there is a limit, and I assure you the puzzles will be some of the hardest ever devised.
"The game starts now: Finder always set out in the dusk from the lagoon, for the fireflies to light the way, and it kept the monsters of the morrow at bay. He traverses great lands of sod, moats that house billions of ecosystems in a droplet the size of a hairpin's tip. Like Finder, you must recover Frog, but unlike so. Any other times, Frog will not be just one hop, skip, and jump away. I have devised a living, breathing world with my portion of the family's wealthy to devise this glorious night! A pittance in what will be yours if you can prove yourself a true Harrowing. You will find more clues as you move throughout the house. Your first of many puzzles is in the solarium. I know it was one of your favorite places to explore, so please, why not take a stroll down memory lane, Jacob?"
Jacob began to make his way towards the solarium, as it was one of his most visited parts of the house, it wasn't very difficult to find, even with as dim as the lamps were set. Until his uncle's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh, and dearest Jaocob, I've devised traps throughout this little game of Finder's Frog. As a matter of fact, some mayy be very much like the one you just set off here. Do not fret, this is one is merely a trial, it will not harm you. What? Did I fail to mention that I've made sure this game would prove once-and-for all that you will be a Harrowing? Ah, well don't worry, if either you fail to complete the game,,or you fail in doing so, bringing even greater shame to this defunct family, you will surely join me in Hell. Perhaps that's it's own reward as such rewards go! Now go! Don't try to escape either, I've rigged every exit to ensure you for once complete a task you've started! I know you can do it, so stop whimpering and meet your destiny in the solarium!"
What?! Jacob was unsure of that enigmatic threat was just part of his Uncle Meeble's eccentric sense of humor, or he was actually going to go out of his way to prove a point. Either way, he knew thwt his first task would be in the solarium.
The inner garden, once vibrant in his annuals that would be replaced with the freshest, strongest scented specimens once even a leaf wilted, made this corridor one the most beautiful sections of the world in his youth. Now, it was full of fodder, stunk of dead petals, rotted roots, more rancid than the worst back alley butcher. It was enough to move something deep down inside him, seeing the power such a memory had on the psyche, it hurt to even step inside.
The speaker kicked on again, it seemed to be routed throughout the entire house, his uncle did pay for great expenses to be taken, but why? What point is he trying to make? The static, and scratch ing of the record kicked in, and screeched with more maniacal joy than before!
"Excellent! You've made it through to the solarium, isn't it lovely? Well, the image painted on the pallets of memories is just enough to make you weep for what beauty once laid in this room! Still, I admire the work the caretakers have gone through to shit on your favorite space. I'm just so glad you didn't try the door, because shrapnel doesn't make for a pretty corpse. Glad to see you've survived the first test, now lets's play for real;
"For those of is deep in the lore of our family's history, know that Finder was a commoner among his people, but he held one item sacred among all others, even, some of us have thought shockingly, above even his only, dearest friend, Frog. The item would go on to bring him great fortune, but it was the first thing he grabbed before setting out that faithful dusk into the world. It would bring him no survival, it was sheer faith he had in this item, what was it? Do you know, dear Jacob?"
Jacob thought through the pause, he knew of the story, he knew that Finder grabbed three items: one was a walking stick his grandfather had proffered off an old hermit, the other was a sawfish club. The last one escaped him, and clearly it was the most vital item, but so vague to his memory.
"Well, that is your first task, Jacob! I've given you two items, they should be to your left, those will be needed for later puzzles. I've hidden the third item somewhere in this solarium, and you must find it to gain access to the next part of your journey, be quick, little Finder! Or you may spend an eternity amongst the carrion of your most precious perennials!"
His uncle's disembodied laughter was as humorous as it was terrifying. He knew the first step was to find the third totem, but first he grabbed the bag to his left that supposedly had the other two items Finder took on his quest to return Frog. Instead of a sawfish club, there was a small knife, surrounded by glued on short teeth, probably making it less useful. The second was a cane, it looked expensive enough to be traded for a high-end vehicle, and some change. It looked juxtaposed to the decrepit old glass home, it practically screamed to be removed from the dirt and grime of the board it was leaning on.
Jaocb knew he had to find the last piece of the puzzle, because even if this was all real, and his life depended on actually making it through these traps at Harrowing Manor, then it would be fruitless to try and escape, or call out for help: the mansion was clearly the perfect setting to stage this night of grandiose showboating on his ceased uncle's part, because it was miles from captivity. The story came back in small reminiscent pieces, but it was such a long, long story, it was hard to remember even the most mundane of parts, but he knew the third piece was a necklace...but what kind? It was a sign of Finder's people's worshipping. It wasn't necessarily a religious necklace, it just was believed to hold sacred powers, although it was inherently useless in survival circumstances.
Jacob began to trudge through the marshy floor of the unkempt solarium, and walked through the tall, dead vines clambering up towards the ceiling. Within minutes, he was in the thick of the dead, stinking plants, and rotted, decade-old, mummified fruit, he stood in front of two necklaces. Of course it wasn't yogi g to be just one, Uncle Meeples Diogenes Harrowing was a sadist. Both of the necklaces looked like the other, identical. Jacob ruminated over the consequences of actually grabbing one over the other, and he knew his uncle would not just put two of the same necklaces up, not on something this important. He was rooting for him to fail.
The story came back again, and he recalled this elongated tale his great-grandfather told to him a few years before his passing in the reflecting pool of their summer home about Finder. He said that Finder was a man of lower-class breeding, that's why he fights harder for what he wants, and Frog is the anomaly that keeps him fighting harder towards that goal. The sword is never used, the stick is never a help or hindrance in the journey, they're merely symbols of strength and weakness in the warrior class of which Finder stems. Finder is a relatively young man, and young men have fists to fight, and strong legs to walk, but other than wealth, the one thing Findcer lacked the most was a fear of the beyond. His travel into the said beyond would be perhaps, his last, he takes a token of faith in a necklace, but not like any necklace. One blessed by the matriarch of his clan. A former warrior, a birthing mother of monstrous soldiers, now a wicked old hag whose age and scars could not mask all her former beauty. She blesses it with the strength to carry Finder int to the marshes of the a black Swamps.
Jacob embers this story, and knows that both necklaces, were wrong. Both had huge black Xs as the centerpiece, a talisman of great value in Frog's mythology, but it wasn't the one given by the old hag. No, she gave one to him with the sigil of the aardwolf. A vicious, charming, humorous animal, that ran in packs like courageous wolves, but stood in solidarity like the proudest cat. Jacob turned, and lo and behold, there was the gold necklace, the aardwolf insignia gleamed from behind a dying shrub, barely holding on for dear life. It was a simple task, as the hyena was the family's symbol, and but a distant cousin of the aardwolf. Jacob reached out, and felt a tug back. He ripped as a cord pulled with the insignia necklace.
This set off another loud scratching over the speakers.
"Excellent, Jacob, simply excellent! That should've been fairly easy, as I've practically laid out the answer for you. Still, the night is very young, and I promise, you will surely fail. Prove me wrong Jacob! Now, head through the next series of rooms. I'd suggest using your powers of observation to find out the clues, and use that lovely memory to harness your inner Finder. Or face the consequences! HA!"
The night was going long, and the day would dawn on him, either making him a King, or a corpse. Jacob looked at his watch, he had six hours until sun-up. Finder's Frog was all he knew, but how well did he know his family. Whatever would happen in the next few hours, Jacov made a conscious choice, to gain control over the Harrowing fortune. He would gain his birthright, he would gain the Harrowing inheritance.
This concludes part one of the "short" story The Harrowing Inheritance, or Finder's Frog. I hope you enjoy it, as the next half will be up either next Friday, or maybe even a week after. Either way, I promise it will be finished, and out for your reading pleasure. Thank you again for supporting the Malacast Editorial,mans I hope you are enjoying these special posts of Short Story Weekly!
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