Borden Blood

“Darkness envelops my mind of late. No escape from this wretched haunting! Oh sweet, sweet Kristina… They killed her! Bloody killed her! Accused of witchcraft! How could they? Her body swung in the attic of the schoolhouse when they hung her from a rope. Didn’t even struggle.

People just watched; some even cheered. Her dead, bulging eyes haunt me to this day. I could only cry. I could only weep! What more could I do?

She only smiled through her raven black hair. Glared more like it; her eyes so sinister yet her lips curved into a cruel smile. Oh that haunting gaze! The gaze that drove some mad. The mad screamed their fear of Kristina until they died. Madness is “Witchcraft” they say. They would hang all those that were driven insane. Only if they didn’t hang themselves first.

My life is lost. Nothing is left for me. They’ve taken my dear wife! Oh Emily! Burned her alive! Alive! Constantly her screams seem to repeat in my head. They burnt Kristina’s body along with Emily’s! I suspect they’ll come for me next, now I’m the only Borden left in the town. Everyone, dead! The town’s thinking the school house is all spooked now because of me. Even thinking that the old Morton twins have gone mad because my “Witchcraft” so they say. No worries… They’ll soon find me… at the end of this rope!

Only death awaits me. I will follow my dear Kristina and Emily to the grave. Children of this town and the inhabitants of these grounds will forever be cursed by the shedding of our blood… the shedding of Borden blood!”

  • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

John Hilbert held the crumbling journal with shaking fingers. With his hands tired and weak, he dropped the tattered book into the ashes and rubble within the fireplace. A handful of black and white photographs with burnt and curled edges skipped across the debris. Terrified, John stared at the creepy pictures of a small child, around thirteen years old, just smirking at the camera, black hair hanging over her scowling eyes. John muttered a curse and stood up to leave.

The headlamp over his head began to dim as John strutted up the stairs from the basement of Recreation Outlet. Lights flickered behind him; then all that remained in the cold basement was John and the pitch black darkness. He fell to the floor as his knees buckled. His breath felt as if it was being drawn from his lungs, and the gloom around him grew utterly cold. If the basement had even the smallest amount of light John would have seen the breath of whatever was now breathing onto the back of his neck. But the light forsaken room revealed nothing; not even John’s hand in front of his face could be seen.

Horrified, John attempted to crawl up the stairs but was only pulled further into the darkness by an unknown force. The air was as dense as mud. A howling wind burst into the basement, and it pushed John even further into the dark void. The wind seemed to mutter curses and whisper dark incantations. The wind basked in death. It called death into the darkness.

In one last attempt of hope, John stabbed a broken broomstick handle into the air behind him when he found it on the ground before him. The light, although very dim, returned to the basement after the darkness, cold, and breathing left the room with a horrid scream as if it really had been stabbed. John broke into a wild run up the stairs and ran for escape.

John burst from Recreation Outlet’s back door into the stormy night, the keys to his car ready. The wind howled through the trees. He felt relieved to be rid of the darkness that shrouded him within the basement. The very thought of the dark room made his skin crawl.

And once again, so did the breathing on the back of his neck. The darkness returned as quickly as it had come before. John attempted to run again but felt too weak. The wind hurled a battered brown tarp, torn and dirty, towards him. It twisted around his struggling body like a snake strangling a newborn rat. John fell to the ground and felt a snap in his neck as it twisted around. His head slammed against the pavement with a thud, and darkness clouded his vision as he slipped away from reality; lost to the world of the living…

  • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hey little brother!”

“Michael J. Hilbert?!” I greeted Mike, my boss at Recreation Outlet, in the same casual, joking way I always did at work. I smiled and raised my hand waving my fingers as if I were a baby bird ready to feed. Just the sort of weird things we employees do at the “Rec” that makes no sense; just something stupid to laugh at.

Turning, I headed for the back room to begin work. When I opened the swinging backdoors, a very disturbing uneasiness crawled up my spine, sending prickling goose bumps down my back. In my tracks, I stopped; I stared for a moment and could have sworn I heard a faint whispering in the back of my mind. Peering down the aisle of tents, sleeping bags, and messy piles of other camping gear, I looked for anyone trying to scare me. The aisle toward the basement gave me a slight shiver. I thought little of it and left the backroom to work up front for the night.

Mike, Josh Adams, and I worked into the night helping the few customers that came in. Most of them were friends or old employees come to visit.

“Hey Tyson” Mike said with an overeager tone when it became fully dark and almost ready to close the store. “Want to help me take out these cardboard boxes, buddy?”

“Sure dude. Let’s do it.” I began gathering boxes then went for the door. At the dumpster outside, I threw my boxes away and Mike began following me back to the front door.

“What’s that?” Mike said, with a hint of mock terror painted on his face, and pointing at a large lump wrapped within a brown, dirt covered tarp. We both shuffled over to the tarp. I poked at it with a leg and moved the heavy heap around. We looked at each other somewhat worriedly now, and Mike reached to open the tarp.

Inside the tarp, lying dead and mangled was Mike’s younger brother’s body. John lay there motionless with bulging eyes, twisted neck, and tongue hanging from his mouth. His wrinkled skin already smelled of decay, and it was a brownish gray color like old rancid milk. Mike looked at his brother’s body with a look between anger, sadness, and denial. Tears rolled down his face as he scowled. He fell to his knees and pounded his fists onto his thighs.

“Who would do this?! Who did this?!!” Mike yelled at no one in particular. When his yells faded and the night went silent except for the stark wind, a dim light emanated from John’s body. A wispy spirit in the perfect likeness of John slowly arose out of his remains. The bright yellowish surface of the spirit danced like the waves of the sea on a misty morning. John’s lighted smile seemed to lighten up the gloom in Mike and me. Suddenly ridding himself of the smile, the spirit imitated a struggle and put his ghostlike hands over his throat. Twisting his neck and head sideways, and sticking his tongue out, he mimicked his last apparent struggle.

“Broke… my… neck… …Inside,” was everything the ghost said, before it faded slowly away like warm breath melting away on a cold window.

With a furious face Mike glared towards the front door with his mouth a wolfish scowl and he marched onward, with a determination to kill.

When within the building, Mike and I locked the doors and eyed all of the customers looking for any hint of suspicion. None of them looked as if they were guilty. As we continued the search, the lights began to slowly go dim, and the building started to swallow in a slight iciness. When the lights finally went out, we employees grabbed what headlamps and batteries we could find to use as light, but even those dimmed to darkness. The store became utterly dark. Not even the lights of the city outside emanated any light into the building. The only light source within Recreation Outlet was a dim, flickering, fiery orange glow within the backroom.

Losses of power had happened many times before but had never been so dark. Or even disturbing.

Josh opened the back doors and propped them open to let in what light we could get. When Josh came back, he looked at me in the eye with keen understanding and muttered, “Kristina Borden.”

Realization flooded over my mind as I understood every odd happening that night: the odd feeling in the backroom, Mike’s little brother John, and all the lights going out.

Mike felt his way over to Josh and I with a look of nervousness.

“Kristina Borden!” I said aloud for even more than Mike to hear. Mike’s expression wavered and a look of fear spread across the contours of his face. He stood up straight and fixed his stance with a firm strength. Mike sauntered towards the backdoor and paced in a lit clearing, and with his hands motioned everyone to join him.

“Everyone, come here.” Mike said loud enough so all the worried customers could hear. The soft dim light from the backroom slightly illuminated a clear area by the boot section, north end of the store, where everyone was soon gathered.

“Everybody listen. We are all in a dire situation. My brother has just been killed.” Confusion spread over the faces of the customers. “This is not your average power outage. There may be a storm outside but it is not the cause of no power. Take a look outside.” He motioned his hands at the strip of stores across the street. “They all have power and all their lights are working. What you have just seen here at Recreation Outlet has been done by somebody long dead. Somebody with power beyond our own. A creature of evil. A ghost.”

Laughing, one customer got up and said, “What is this? A joke? I don’t have time for this. I need to go. I have a warm dinner waiting for me at home. I’d much rather be home than playing out some ridiculous joke when it’s just a simple storm power outage.” The other customers followed him a little too quickly toward the door to leave.

“You can’t leave” Josh said, with a voice of panic, and stood in front of them before they reached the door.

“You won’t survive.” I said as Mike and I also took ground in front of the crowd of people.

“Yeah okay…” the laughing customer said very sarcastically. Then he pushed past Mike and opened the door. Wind crashed through the door, knocking things off their shelves and a roaring sound filled the store. A few others also pushed through as Mike pleaded with them not to leave.

With a loud smash the door banged shut. A woman’s mouth opened wide outside with a silent scream. She pulled at the door to come back inside but it wouldn’t budge. She began to run away with the others, but it seemed as if they were running in slow motion. Dust and debris floated around them, and a shimmering black wind came slowly toward the running people. Sprays of blood erupted from everyone outside as the shimmering black passed through each of them in turn as if enjoying some sort of game. The people fell limp to the ground, painted with blood and already beginning to decay.

The scene went to chaos. Many emptied their stomachs upon the floor. Some ran around hiding as if that would help. Mike ushered them to come back to the lightened part of the store and they came, many with tears streaming down their face. They sat around Mike standing with a hard, emotionless face. When all were gathered he told them the story of the Borden’s…

He told them of how it was believed that the Borden family was accused of witchcraft and hung the daughter Kristina in this very building when it used to be an old school house. When people wouldn’t stop going insane, they took all but the father and burned them alive within the schoolhouse in a desperate attempt to rid the town of evil. The father finally could not hand the fact of his lost family and hung himself on a charred wooden beam right were the front door of Recreation Outlet stood now. Everything built upon these grounds were cursed thereafter. Every store that used to be in this building went out of business or just left. Every employee seemed to never be the same when they worked in the building. The grounds were cursed.

“We will fight this curse.” Mike went on with a booming voice. “We will not let this evil spirit take hold of us. We must not! We have no other choice. Will you be willing to fight? Or will you hide? Do you want to leave the store? You are free to go and nothing will stop you. At least none of us will stop you. For everyone else, I say this: we must not cower! Death will befall us one day in our lives in one way or another. But do not let it be this night! We must live. We will live! Dark things lurk all around this world and consume the souls of men. Let us be rid of this darkness! Evil has always been on this earth, but let us end it! This is the time! Tonight, my friends, is the night that we fight!”

The customers looked up at Mike awestruck, and something new hinted in their faces; determination. Every person gathered upon the ground stood up almost in unison and shouted their approval with what seemed near to a battle cry.

I didn’t even notice Josh missing until he came over with a box of knives and ice axes. Customers took one ice axe and grabbed about a dozen knives each.

Mike motioned Josh and me to come to him. He took us aside and told us what we were to do. “You must go and find Kristina. Tyson, I know that you will find a way to kill her. You must! Josh, watch Tyson’s back while he searches for a way. I don’t know how you can kill a ghost. Good luck. The rest of us will do what we can up here.”

Josh and I each took two knives, one for each hand and headed into the backroom. The dim light, reddish further to the back, brought an eerie, uneasy feel to the room, adding even more terror to the icy, dark feel. Josh leading the way, we walked over to the aisle leading toward the basement.

“Check the loading bay before we head down to the basement” I whispered, “just to be sure.”

As Josh walked over to the loading area, my knees began to tremble, and I felt out of breath. Darkness crept in around me, enveloping me in a sort of dark mist. Blackness shimmered in the air above the stairs. I tried to turn away but my eyes locked onto the shimmers in front of me. The flickers of black air formed into a vague silhouette of a small girl in a gown, although very few features could be seen. The shadow – Kristina Borden – floated towards me, flickering like the hot air wavering above a raging fire. I lifted my knife when she was close, and slashed through her. The blade touched nothing, but she fled down the stairs with a screeching scream.

Josh grasped my arms when he saw me struggling and began to pull me up. Before he could lift me to my feet a heavy draft of wind burst through the aisle. The wind did not stop but got harder and harder, pushing Josh toward the basement – Or sucking him in, I could not tell. I could only stare, my knees still week and my breath still gone. Fumbling around, trying to grab hold of anything he could, Josh slowly slipped toward the basement. He gripped the railing on the stairway to avoid the plunge to the basement, but the whirlwind was stronger. He all of the disappeared into the basement. The wind stopped.

Gathering my strength I stood up, shaking the terror off. A box of back-stocked glow sticks sat on a shelf, and I grabbed a handful. I uttered a small curse when I saw that all of them were that eerie color of red. I tore one out of the package, broke it, and threw the glow stick to the bottom of the stairs. Josh lay on the ground with his eyes closed and his body unmoving. Putting one knife away, I broke a glow stick to hold in my hand. Knife in one hand, a glow stick in the other and the rest in my pocket, I trudged down the stairs.

When I reached the bottom I woke Josh with a small shake. He struggled up silently. A small drip of blood oozed from a corner of his mouth. Seeing that he no longer had a knife, I gave him my spare and a few glowsticks.

“You alright?” I said, and Josh nodded. “Let’s move on then.” However much I don’t want to, I thought.

The basement was a cluttered mess, making the place even scarier. Dark shadows seethed like snakes as Josh and I moved out of the tiny furnace room and into the back-stock area of the cold, clammy basement. Normally, in the middle of the room, there were two bars stretching horizontally from one side of the room to the other, and back-stocked clothes would hang from them. For some unknown reason the clothes were scattered across the ground, giving the musty room the appearance of dead bodies cluttered around the floor.

As Josh and I trudged cautiously through the clothes, I grabbed another glowstick and threw it across the room to help light the way. The red light cast more snaky shadows onto a set of stairs on the other side of the room; a staircase ascending into the ceiling. This staircase, old and crawling with spider webs, always had a disturbing feel to it with its unsettling sudden end into nothing.

All of a sudden, I felt some strange need to say something, to fill in some empty space; an uneasy feeling of something missing.

“Do you feel that?” Josh said, only half voiced, ending with a loud cough.

I could see my breath in the red light of the glowsticks as I answered. “There must be something we have to say here. A key to something. A password or something of the sort. Maybe I should say ‘open sesame’.” I said the last half joking.

We both held our breath waiting for something to happen. I kicked the bottom stair as if that would help. Nothing happened. The only sound was the low hum of the wind draft falling threw the furnace shaft in the previous room.

Josh looked at the stairs intently and closed his eyes with a strange mix of calm and horror painted across his face. The red light gave his face a hellish look.

“Kristina Borden.” he half whispered, half choked into the cold, stale air. He opened his eyes and let out a deep breath.

The ground beneath us slightly trembled, and the stairs ahead were visibly quivering in sync with the trembling floor. A crack between the top stair and the ceiling slowly formed as the ground continued to shake. Each stair was gradually sinking into the step below it until the entire staircase had vanished. It instead became a flat hallway plunging into a void of darkness, but the shaking didn’t cease. The flat ground disappeared when a new staircase slowly formed, but it was going downward rather than up. When the staircase was complete the trembling finally stopped. Another draft of cold wind whistled in the distance.

Another glowstick popped, and leapt from Josh’s hand as he threw it into the darkness. The light seemed to wink out of existence as it was cloaked in the blackness, and there wasn’t even a sound of it clattering to the floor. It was simply gone.

As I silently prayed, I forced myself to start down the stairs. The silence of our descent was unnerving. Not a sound could be heard, not even our footsteps. The red glowstick didn’t even illuminate the ground and barely lit Josh’s face. However, the slight red light was enough to cast a dark, sinister, and even evil countenance onto Josh’s face. I was sure mine looked the same.

The stairs were relatively short and we began traveling on flat ground. The walls were close enough that Josh had to walk behind me as we sunk deeper into the endless darkness.

Not even a minute of traveling and we beheld a red glow in the distance ahead of us. Music could also slightly be heard from beyond; it sounded like a music box. We quickened our pace and were shortly basked in the red glow of light, listening to the crisp melody of a child’s music box. The dark hallway ended and a small decline led into a network of hallways going in all directions with ceilings low enough that Josh and I had to crouch, and occasionally crawl on hands and knees. Floors, walls, and low ceilings were covered in a deep blood-red carpet. The walls had evenly spaced picture frames hanging on the wall. The frames were ornate and gilded with a dull gold covered in years of accumulated dust, but there were no pictures in the frames, only solid black; black as the darkest night. Ringing in the air, the music still played, sending a creepy chill through the eerie halls, and a faint, chilling whispering, like a child’s, crawled into our ears.

Josh and I traveled onward warily, casting our eyes into the hallways branching from the main one. Each hallway was the same; red carpeted floors, walls, and ceilings with the old dusty gilded frames stretching into the endless hallways. The main hallway ended and branched off left and right into another stretch of hallway. We took the one to the right and crawled until it ended with a golden door.

The door quivered slightly. Josh and I held our knives ready. Echoing music abruptly ended as Josh reached for the handle. Time seemed to slow almost to a stop. Josh slowly pulled the door open. The air screamed with the sound of rushing water slowly building up to a crushing resonance of discordant chaos. The sound suddenly stopped when the door was opened to be replaced with a complete silence. If death made had a sound, it would be like what I could hear, or rather, what I could not hear.

A shrill scream bloomed in the faraway distance until it slowly built up to a piercing screech slamming itself into my ears. Beyond the door, in a very small dark room, stood a chair. In that chair sat a small girl with her head falling limp and her hair hanging down to cover her face. She wore a tattered, white gown. The sight was terrifying. Struggling with all my might, I pushed my hand forward and shut the door. The screaming abruptly came to an end replaced with the creepy music box melody and the uncanny whispering.

With a quick look of shared understanding, Josh and I both rushed out of the network of hallways, out of the dark hallway and back into the red-lit basement room.

“How are we supposed to kill her” I said, “when we can’t even stand in her presence?”

Josh let out a deep breath, “I don’t know. I have no idea.” He took a seat on a cardboard box and held his head low. “What are we going to do?” The last he whispered for himself. A whisper absent of any hope.

A draft of wind came from the furnace room. A cacophonous scraping sound followed the wind and ended with silence. Josh lifted his head and held his knife tightly. I did the same. With as much silence as possible we walked into the furnace room to see what caused the sound. The wind drafts knocked a large board away from a square hole in the wall where a breeze was gently rustling the cluttered cardboard boxes around it.

The hole appeared to be an old fireplace. It still held ashes and debris; and a book with pictures scattered around it. The wind was slowly flipping the old, stiff, sepia toned pages, burnt on the edges. I picked the book up to discover it was the journal of a man named Devin Borden. Poems and pictures covered a large portion of many pages.

One page held a roughly drawn map of Recreation Outlet obviously before it was a store, back when it was the old schoolhouse. A circled portion of the map showed a small closet. The word “Here” was scratched barely legible to the side of the circle. By the layout of the map compared to the layout of Recreation Outlet the circled area was where the dressing room lay now. Gathering the pictures and the journal, Josh and I both rushed upstairs toward the dressing room.

Mike and the customers above were still masked in darkness and fear could be seen in their eyes. They all cast wary looks all around them and held their knives and ice axes firm and ready.

“Any luck?” Mike said with a small hint of excitement and anticipation.

“She’s still down there. We can’t find a way to kill her.” Josh shrugged and then nudged me hard in the side. “Let’s see what we can find” He took Devin Borden’s Journal from my trembling hands and tapped the circled area on the small map.

Mike followed Josh and me as we went over to the dressing room area. We cleaned everything out and found a small hole in the corner of the back wall by the last dressing room. Mike, now understanding what was going on, grabbed an ice pick and started prying away the wall at a small hole in a corner. Josh joined in and in a few moments the two had torn away the wall to find a small space barely big enough to fit a person. A hole lay off to one side that plunged into the floor. Holding a glowstick to the hole showed that a small room was right beneath our feet. The hole was big enough for one person, and I slipped through it.

The room was an awe striking place. The place was filled with books and other odds and ends; cages with skulls inside, vials and bottles filled with different substances, and all sorts of beaded ropes hanging off shelves. There was only one thing that truly held my attention though.

In the middle of the tiny room sat an old, dusty table, and upon that table there was a large book, about a head thick, bound with rough, black leather. The pages were mostly in a tattered mess. The only word legible on the title page was “Bible” but it was clearly not the “Holy Bible”.

The book held stories of dragons, pirates, spirits, and many more things. It was filled with different spell and rituals. Some were to raise the dead. The very touch of the book brought a feeling of unseen eyes gazing upon your soul and pushing back every happy thought. I held my breath as realized that the book I had could only be one thing: “The Witch’s Bible”.

I brought The Witch’s Bible up through the hole with me along with a peculiar looking knife wedged in one of the pages, rather simply made, laying on one of the shelves. In the dim light of the backroom Mike, Josh, and I began reading the book until I flipped to a that looked helpful. The heading of the page was titled: “Familiar Spirits and Other Entities”. A few lines down gave instructions for a spell that would rid a place of evil spirits.

Exorcism of Familiar Spirits for Cleansing of Desecrated Grounds
Elements needed:
† Bloodboiled Blade with ivory handle
† Blackpurse of Goatcloth
† Ashes of the spirit’s earthly form
† Photographs of the spirit’s earthly form
A rather simple spell. Fill the Goatcloth Blackpurse with the ashes and photographs of the spirit’s bodily form. When in the presence of the spirit, let the knife pierce through the acquired elements. Blood will finish the spell. Be sure to say the following words: “Who do you serve?” Familiar will leave, cleansing desecrated grounds, but blood of its bodily form will be born into the world once again.

A scratchy note was written to the side: “Easiest to just stab your hand as well.”

“Yeah, that’s a really simple spell.” Mike said with obvious sarcasm. “Just put some of Kristina Borden’s ashes and some pictures of her in a Blackwooly Sheepbag-ermabob and stab it with a Boiling Bloodblade while stabbing it through your hand to make it easier. Alright let’s do it. Way easy.” Mike shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

“Maybe this is a Bloodboiled Blade.” I said as I lay the book down and held up the knife. “It does have an ivory handle and a slightly reddish color to the blade. Maybe it was boiled in blood.” Josh cringed when I said the last.

“Here are some pictures of a little girl.” Josh said. His voice was shaking from the mix of terror and excitement in these new discoveries. “They are from the journal. Maybe it is Kristina Borden in the pictures. And I bet you that her ashes are in that fireplace down there. We only need a Blackpurse made of Goatcloth. Maybe it is down in that room.” Josh pointed back toward the dressing rooms. “Let’s go find out.”

When by the tiny pit by the dressing rooms, Josh slipped down and I followed after. We broke a few more glowsticks to help with lighting, and we began our search for the Blackpurse of Goatcloth.

“It has to be some sort of sack. Maybe it made of goat hide.” Mike yelled a little too loudly from above.

That sparked a thought. I looked at the skull inside the cage. It was a goat skull. Beneath it there was a roughly made black leather bag. I grabbed the bag and Josh and I pulled our selves out of the room.

“Well that looks like it could be a Blackenedgoat Clothpurser.” Mike said, intending the wrong words for the bag to lighten our spirits. “I guess your guess would be as good a guess as any guess.”

I opened up the bag and Josh already had a stack of Kristina Borden’s pictures. He handed them to me one at a time though almost in a ritualistic way. One picture had her sitting on a lopsided swing, her bare feet dipping in the puddle of mud beneath her. Her face blanketed with sorrow. Another showed her sitting on a bicycle in a hallway, not appearing to enjoy the other children riding behind her. Dozens of pictures showed Kristina in different places around a farm house or a school house. In every single black and white picture there wasn’t a smile on her face. I felt very uneasy looking at all the creepy pictures and was thankful to have them in the bag.

When all the pictures were neatly arranged in the sack Josh and I went back into the basement, into the furnace room, and to the fireplace. Josh poured a handful of the gray ashes into the sack. I began shutting the bag, but it began shutting itself. The bag was completely vacant of air and so compressed that it was as hard as a brick.

I realized then that I forgot the ivory handled knife upstairs. When Josh and I came back to the sales floor, the lights were back up even though they were very dim. Mike was playing something on a guitar that he brought to work that day. It sounded like a sort of Egyptian voodoo song. It had an entrapping melody and luring beat to it. The Witches Bible lay open in front of him.

“I looked through the book,” Mike said slightly embarrassed, “and there was a musical incantation on how to shy evil entities away so I figured I should play it and do something useful. Luckily I just happened to bring a guitar.” Mike motioned around the room with his head while he kept playing. “It definitely helps. There’s your knife.” He pointed at the book with the neck of the guitar. Across the old pages lay the knife. I quickly grabbed it and headed back down to the basement with Josh at my heels.

We made our way back down the stairs into the darkness and into the network of red-carpeted hallways. Back into the eerie music box’s chime-like tune and the whispering echo in the cold, musty air. The tight spaced walls and very low ceilings added to the creepiness of the hallways. The hallways felt as if Josh and I were in a child’s dollhouse.

We finally made it to the hallway with Kristina’s small door and stood there a moment preparing for the fear which was about to take us. Josh opened the door.

Kristina Borden stood at the entrance of the room staring at me. Her face was terrifying as she gazed into my face. How she made that piercing glare, I could not say for she had no eyes; only empty sockets with endless caverns of darkness behind them. Her black hair no longer fell down in front of her pale, ghostly face but was sticking up in all directions as if she had electricity in her hair. It was also no longer black. Her hair stuck out in all different colors, but they were mostly black, grey, and crimson. Her mouth was lipless and her sharp teeth grinded into a snarl as she growled in a high pitched sound like a muffled scream.

Before I could let myself be taken by the horror, I stabbed the elements of the spell as hard as I could. The knife easily struck all the way to the hilt through the package and my hand. Warm blood dripped from my fingers and gushed out from the wound, soaking the leather with blood. Strangely I did not feel the pain.

Kristina Borden began convulsing wildly. She was crumpling up in certain parts of her body and she screamed in pain. With one final twitch she began floating in the air and twisting around screaming. All of the sudden Kristina and the Goatcloth Blackpurse connected with a sort of wavering smoky line, and Kristina Borden was sucked into the parcel in my hands. The black bag began shaking and slithering in my hand, and the knife disappeared. Then as fast as it had begun the shaking bag came to a sudden stop. The red hallways around Josh and I twisted in a crimson blur and spun dizzyingly around us. One quick lurch of twisting scarlet and we were surrounded in darkness.

When our eyes adjusted to the dark, we realized we were standing by the stairs that ran into the ceiling. The lights flickered on to the familiar buzzing hum of electricity. I looked at the thing in my hand but it was no longer the Goatcloth Blackpurse. It was a single photograph. Kristina Borden was sitting on a chair in a simple attic room. She was staring at me and strangely she blinked. The she moved and started convulsing in the chair muttering odd words in a near chant.

I nearly forgot to say the last part of the spell. I looked at the ghostly girl in the picture and I said, “Who do you serve?!” The voice coming out of my mouth was not my own. It rumbled in a low buzz that sounded like a crowd of demon’s screaming with me. Then the voice said something of its own accord. “Your serve me!!” Kristina Borden tried running out of the picture but before it could happen the picture crumpled up in my fist. Bursting into flames, the picture floated in the air, and the flames engulfed my entire body. The fire was not hot and it just slowly burned away. I felt very peculiar. My heart pounded and my breath was cold. I felt almost dead. Josh stared at me with a look of uttermost terror. My vision dimmed and I fell to the floor. Dreams of darkness, dreams of red hallways, music box tunes, and whispering echoes, and dreams of Kristina Borden filled my sleep.

  • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I woke in my own bed with a scream when flames engulfed my body once again in my dreams. Whispering still fed into my ears, haunting my mind. My clothes stuck tightly to the layer of sweat on my skin. The whispering would not stop; the music box would not stop.

I ran out of my room in the dark basement. My two birds sat on a perch looking very terrified as they peered sideways at me. The whispering and music rushed on louder and louder, and my knees buckled with the agonizing pain echoing in my head. Finally, yelling at the top of my lungs for it to stop, the music stopped with one small laugh from Kristina Borden, laughing out of nowhere.

I found myself sprawled on the cold cement floor before my bird cage. Pushing myself up to my knees, I looked into the cage at my birds. They both lay in a heap on the pine wood shavings on the floor. Small tendrils of smoke wisped up from their blackened bodies, lying motionless on the cage floors. I could hardly believe my eyes.

Whispering and music shot through my mind once again, building up to such agonizing pain that I began convulsing on the ground. I screamed once more. Along with that scream came the screams of a thousand demons, laughing from hell. The music and whispering stopped with another sardonic chuckle from Kristina.

A muffled thump came from the room next to mine. Picking myself up to my feet, I ran to my brother’s door to see what happened. Smoke poured through the door when I opened it. My brother lay in blackened heap the same as my birds. I held my fists to my hair and squeezed with anguish. Tears stung my eyes.

Whispering and music burst again through my mind again! I tried pushing it off, but again I screamed for the pain to stop. It did, but with what cost?

I ran upstairs hoping my family was okay. I checked every room and each was the same. Crumpled heaps; Charred blackened bodies; Smoke-filled air. Tears now streamed down my face as I kneeled on the ground and wept. My torment echoed off the walls as I howled into the night.

Whispering and music struck hard this time and immediately I was tearing at walls and cabinets, taking my mind off the pain. I tore away recklessly not caring as my fingers broke and as blood splattered on my face, clothes, and everything else. Kristina Borden began laughing in my head. Blood ran down my hands and face as I writhed in the broken debris around the room. The pain grew and grew when I refused to scream until I could only twitch on the bloody ground. A black shimmer rose from out of my chest and formed into the silhouette of what could only be that wretched spirit of Kristina. A smile curved on her lipless mouth.

“You not readin’ the last of my pretty spell do you?” She laughed a shrill laugh after she spoke with her hissing, snaky voice. “Yes, my lovely tricks did take me from me house, but you need be readin’ the last bits of it, yes, yes. You’re be my houses now. Yes, yes, you bein’ my little place of hiding. My tricks always be bad. ‘Blood of its bodily form will be born into the world once again’. Yours body’s mine, yes. You be my new blood – born once again. My Borden blood now be born in you. My tricks do well. You do my bidding now!” She laughed uncontrollably rolling on the ground.

My body was now trembling uncontrollably as Kristina Borden stood over me cackling wildly into the air. Darkness began closing in and enveloping me in blackness. Finally, no longer having the ability to withstand the excruciating pain, I screamed, masses of fiends screeching with me.

I could not let her take me like this. Me, Borden blood? After she took everything. My family! How could I live on with this? How many more would I subconsciously kill with Kristina Borden using me like a puppeteer with his puppet? How long would she drag me by a leash letting loose her power out to do her evil bidding? How could I allow her take my life away? I could only think of ending it. End it all. Whatever possible to stop the unleashing of this new evil into the world. End it all!

I leapt at Kristina with all my might and could feel my body tearing apart as a whole congregation of evil screamed with the voice of death.

The night shrouded me in shadow as I slowly died.

Borden Blood


Joined November 2007

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Keep in mind that this story was a dream I had. A very very vivid dream. Everything is mostly correct except for added names and such. Also keep in mind that dreams are weird, so some things that happen are kinda funky. It’s still cool I hope?

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