|The Entity of Castle Brook Close (standard:horror, 4426 words)|
|Author: Nathaniel MIller||Added: Jun 08 2015||Views/Reads: 750/468||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A possession of an apartment building in London, leads police to a blood fest of fifty murdered people in which they must exorcise to destroy it before it destroys the city.|
The Entity of Castlebrook Close. It is a house like any other, standing in the city of London, located in the many modest class sections of the city, and off the narrow dead-end street known as Castlebrook Close. It a street that connects the main, sprawling street of Brook Drive, (east to west) that runs along the street of flats to end at Churchyard Row on one end and continues on to the west toward the Imperial Museum, and Mary Harmsworth Park off of Kennington Road in Central London. The building itself is a three story high-rise, that towers on the skyline of the other buildings located in this part of town, and it is one that is abandoned. It is due to be renovated and many have tried to start to demolish the building, only to be driven away by something sinister and evil within the walls of the home before them. Some say it was haunted, others say that it was possessed, and some have spoken of evil things that had happened in this home a long time ago. All the claims have been unconfirmed, but there has been one thing that has been confirmed, that it has had deaths. Over fifty people have entered, but only two have emerged, exiting the building in an unsettled state. Outside the building looks normal, as any high-rise would. It has a simple art-deco entrance, a rounded doorway and windows, sunken in the brick building and a shapely brick design that makes the entry appear almost human. The grounds are empty and barren, with a fenced area on one side and a grass area on the other side. There is an inner side of this building, designated for more for parking of vehicles next to the entryway. The buildings that also connect the area around it are abandoned, also to be renovated. The buildings themselves were built a long time ago, in the late fifties, during the Korea War Era and were long over due for a remake and renovation. Constable Brent Mac Niadah looked up at the abandoned building as he walked toward it this evening, reporting for duty to keep people away, as they investigated, what people said was a Homicide, committed in this building. He is a middle-aged young man in his mid to late thirties, rather tall, quite lean, with sandy-blond hair, sprinkled with gray, a thick mustache on his ruddy appearance, and wearing plain clothes of a London Police Department. Constable Nia, as his peers called him, is a very brave man, having served in the war in the British Army. He had served abroad in the world, serving in the operations in the Middle—East. He served proudly in Operation Desert Shield, Operation Desert Storm in the nineties. Then he served two tours for the recent fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. But most of his duty had been serving against the civil war in North Ireland of his homeland. He is on duty tonight, with one other constable, the chief and the higher ups suspecting that this is a serial killer's hide out. The plan is to observe unnoticed, report and move in on the killer responsible for the technical murders throughout the city. A thought that did not make the officer feel too warm and fuzzy, as he is the only one with one other posted here over night. Earlier in the evening joggers had sounded the alarm, finding one body and the imprint of another in the grass. There was a clear sign of a struggle and it showed, as there were drag marks into building through the sunken art-deco door of the building. Blood, saliva, hair and other fluids also covered the brick wall outside, making it hard to concentrate, as the smell of blood is strong in and around the doorway. Police had been here all day to investigate this crime scene, and had no luck as they waited on forensics to come and confirm their findings. “By George, it has been one heck of a day.” Mac Nia thought quietly, grimacing as he stood beside a wiry sergeant and a police woman who walked toward a car parked nearby. Most of the others had already left, leaving police tape and barriers littered around the whole area. “Forensics will be here in the morning, to go over the interior, check out the blood, hair and skin... right.” The sergeant said, and Brent nodded his head silently. “Can't we post a few more officers here Serge?” He asked, “What happens if Thompson and I cannot handle the killer alone, should he return?” “Call in, and don't hesitate to use your revolvers.” The sergeant Click here to read the rest of this story (397 more lines)
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