Angels of Death
Written on March 14th, 2023 by Ethan Zhang
Trevor had been an exceptional rebel, always finding ways around every rule. The notorious property was no different. He was determined to find out the secrets of the manorial property despite how prohibited it was, both legally and socially. That venture is where I come in.
My name is irrelevant, so I’m going to call myself Chris, but I was on that fateful adventure with Trevor and the others. I suppose I should recount the story from the beginning, well, the beginning of the trip and why we decided it would be such a glorious idea.
It seemed to be an ordinary gate with two lifesize and ornate stone guards standing on each side, rifles in hand. Behind the gate loomed the ancient property of a notorious man. The man had gained notoriety from the rumoured screams people would hear from his basement every night. Inside his gates, there were evermore stone guards as people began to go missing. Eventually, folklore took it that someone was kidnapping people and turning them into stone statues that stood around the property, unblinking and unwavering. It seemed like the perfect spot to explore with friends in your last year of high school… and a few girls to impress them.
“Hey Trevor, you know that old mansion property? The one with the stone statues?”
“Tina, of course I do. What’s up? Want to do a little exploring?” The two laughed as I walked into the cafeteria, my food tray already on the table. Trevor slapped the seat next to him.
“Looking to explore that place?” I inquired as I ate.
“If Tina wants to, I’ll go. Try not to get third-wheeled, Chris.”
“Oh shut the hell up, I’ll bring a girl.” The three of us laughed, knowing full well the chances of me getting a girl were slim. Ultimately, I asked a girl out, and she said yes. Her name was Irene—Irene Lockhart. She was stunning and knew far more than we did about the mansion. She was the perfect one to get us in—or out, depending on how things went. Her mysticism drew me in.
On the night of our exploration, the air was thick with tension. The wind howled around us, and the trees swayed ominously. We approached the gate, and as we got closer, the stone guards seemed to come alive, their eyes following us. I shuddered and urged us to turn back, but Trevor was determined.
We snuck over the gate and made our way to the mansion. It was imposing, with dark windows that seemed to stare back at us. We entered the basement, and that's when things started to go wrong.
The room was pitch black, our flashlights barely illuminated the area around us, only producing a bleak whimper of light. As we moved through the darkness, we heard whispers, felt cold fingers brush against our skin, and saw shadows moving in the corners of our eyes, just outside of the light’s meek radius. We should have turned back then, but we were too curious and were fueled by the company of others.
We found a room with stone statues, just as the rumors had said. But as we approached them, they seemed to come alive, their eyes glowing red. We tried to run, but the door was locked. We were trapped.
The statues moved closer, and I could hear their cold breath on my neck. I turned to Irene, hoping she had a plan, but she looked just as terrified as I was. Trevor, on the other hand, seemed excited. He approached one of the statues, reaching out to touch it. As soon as his hand made contact, he was pulled into it, turning into stone before our eyes. His silence was eerie. His face contorted into one of pain and fear as he still remained silent. Silently dying, abandoned by his friends.
Then they grabbed Tina. They held her in place as she fell to her knees, thrashing to escape their cold grip. She sobbed and pleaded, but the statues were indifferent. Tina’s arms slowly began to turn to stone. She looked up at us one last time, tears streaming down her face, and smiled one last time.
The rest of the statues turned to us, and we knew we were next. Irene and I ran for our lives, trying to find a way out. But the mansion shifted around us, the corridors leading us in circles. We were lost, alone, and terrified. As the hours passed, our fear turned to madness. We saw things that couldn't be real, heard screams that echoed through the mansion—screams that were likely either Tina’s or Trevor’s—and felt things crawling under our skin. We didn't know if we were alive or dead, trapped in some kind of hellish nightmare.
There seemed to be statues in every direction. Through it all, Irene held my hand. She held it through the worst, and somehow, we survived. We made it out of the mansion, our minds shattered and our souls scarred. We tried to explain what had happened, but no one believed us. They thought we were crazy, that we had made it all up.
Now, decades later, Irene and I are still haunted by that night. We never talk about it; we don't need to. We are each other's only consolation, the only ones who truly understand what we went through. And even though we survived, we will never be the same. The mansion and its stone statues have left an indelible mark on our souls, one that will haunt us forever.
To this day, we still hear Trevor’s silence and Tina’s pleading. Years passed and I went on to marry Irene, with few who attended our unceremonious wedding. But recently she’s begun to change. I’ve begun to find pieces of stone around the house, moreover, there have been lifelike statues appearing in our front yard. The first two were, of course, Tina and Trevor—their lifeless eyes pleading for us to do something, anything, but we were helpless, just like we were all those years ago. I’m starting to think Irene owned the house we explored.
