The Many Morbid Tales of Spookinite Valley
What I Did Not Dare
Written by Benjamin Fouché
The raging thunderstorm has released its rain upon the roof of my Inn for countless hours—and I am uncertain of how long I have waited here in my room, peering out through the old, wavy-glass window. But while the gusts of wind wail over the foothills, I begin to recollect that it was on a menacing night such as this that I did what I did not dare. However, this act was a precise kind of amusement—it was something that most fellows would call odd—but perhaps that is a mere understatement; morbid is more pertinent.
Sadly, few hardly ever travel through this valley because of the gruesome occurrences that endure. I long to be fortunate enough to have even a single visitor—but now, as lightning brightens the Inn’s grounds for a brief moment, I see somebody hurrying to the porte-cochére. Might this be a weary traveler? My heart nearly leaps out of my ribcage while I become filled with such joy! This is going to be quite an evening—I must welcome the guest with great sincerity!
Silently descending the stairway to greet my new visitor, I begin to approach him with a grin—his eyeballs bulge out from his sockets while he gapes at me. I tell him to make himself comfortable while I prepare his room—but he begins slyly reaching for the door—No!—This will not do!—I hurriedly pull him away and lock it. “Now, now. You should not be journeying through this dark and strengthening tempest. I must insist that you stay here until dawn.”
How could this guest try to leave on such short notice? Why, this night has only begun! Nervously eyeing me, he nods in agreement—but I do not trust him, so I say, “Forgive me—I can be rather forgetful sometimes. The preparations for your room have already been taken care of. If you will, please follow me.” I can sense he is still quite apprehensive, so while I lead the way, I glance over my shoulder every so often—for I have to assure myself that he will not make another attempt to leave me again.
Finally, upon reaching his room, I hold out his key in the palm of my cold, corpse-like hand. Quickly snatching it from me, he steps into his room and slams the door shut—I hear it lock. Why is he so fearful? Whatever the reason may be, it does not matter—for I know I shall see him again tonight—nevertheless, I have to remain patient. Skulking down the hallway and into my room, I too shut my door and lock it.
Extinguishing all of the flickering flames from their wicks, I smile, knowing the dastardly deeds I am about to undertake. Noiselessly tiptoeing over to my closet, I take a rope off of the shelf and hold it tightly in one of my hands. Now prowling over to the wall, I push it open, entering the passageway of which I have not crept through in years.
Closing the piece of the wall back in place, I step onward—the excitement is looming—it feels as if it has been centuries. The cobwebs hang from the timbering, lightly brushing over the top of my head—the time is drawing near and I can only hope that I do not disrupt the guest from his sleep. Pushing open the secretive door in the wall, I enter, feeling utter delight! Watching as he lies restfully in bed, I lurk over to the bedside.
Right before I carry on the wondrous acts which I am about to commit, I pause for a moment—perhaps I should wait until he awakens—and then, I’ll surprise him! Knowing that it could be hours before he awakens, I decide to lounge around in a chair. In anticipation, I stare upon him, becoming anxious. He turns on his side—now facing me—and all at once, his eyelids open. In a frightened manner, he sits upwards—probably wondering if I am in the room with him.
A sudden blaze of lightning reveals my presence and I cannot help but leer at him while he becomes mummified in absolute horror. “Shhhhhh. Hush,” I say to him. “There is no need to worry—the merriment has already begun!” But predictably, he dashes out from his bed and bolts towards his door. “Panicking has never ended well for anyone, now has it?” I tell him. After leaping over to the gentleman, I shove him down and tie him up with the rope.
The guest’s screams are blaring and quite frankly, bothersome. I decide I have to do away with that racket—and so, I stuff an old piece of cloth in his mouth. His shrieks are muffled as I drag him away into my concealed tunnels within the walls. Bones crack and tendons shred. What I do to him in the darkness is indeed, what I did not dare.
© Spookinite.com - All text, music and photographs by Benjamin A. Fouché | Music: "What I Did Not Dare" by Morbus Tenebris