3:00 AM

It was on a Monday – the 3rd of August, 2020, I believe – that I was called to investigate the events surrounding the death of one Vance Michaels the previous day at his mansion in the town of Lionsvale. I knew where the town was, although I’d never expected that place to be a scene of any paranormal activity. I was a skeptic in the paranormal and was always called to investigate and discredit any allegations of paranormal events or activity.

I arrived Lionsvale in the afternoon and met a crowd of locals at the mansion, all whispering in hushed voices as they saw us.

“Mr. Kenneth?” a voice called.

A man in a police uniform broke through the crows and approached me.

“I’m Sherriff Douglas,” he said, ushering me into the house. It was a great mansion, the sitting room full of paintings.

“He died in the master bedroom,” he said, leading us into the bedroom. There sat a book atop the bed.

“The corps is at the Coroners. A horrid sight if you asked me,” the officer said, making a sign of the Cross.

“Then what did you want me to investigate?”

“The matter of his journal,” he said, pointing at the book. Not wanting to waste any further time, I sat on the bed and opened the book, reading the contents.

Monday, 20 July 2020.

Uncle John’s funeral ended in a complete state of disarray, as I’d expected. Aunt Marie, the complete witch he called a wife claimed possession of all his property. If not for the timely intervention of the Lawyer with Uncle’s will, things would have gone her way.

It was no surprise that she did not get anything from his property.

I got his mansion at Lionsvale, which I have come to inspect. It is said the place is haunted or cursed, but I don’t care. Two days here for me to evaluate its worth, and I’ll sell it. At least with the stories surrounding it, it should fetch me a lot of money.

Wednesday, 22 July 2020

What a bother this is. I’ve been told that the train station in Lionsvale is under maintenance for the next two weeks. I’ll be stuck here for a while.

This also rules out the possibility of sending letters by mail to any prospective buyers. I’ll have to wait.

Saturday, July 25, 2020

It had to be a figment of my imagination. Last night, I awoke in the middle of the night and as soon as I opened my eyes, they fell on the painting in the room, which hanged opposite me. It was a painting of a hallway of an unknown building. I’d noticed it, but I never saw anything special about it.

But last night, the picture seemed to come alive. A door at the end of the hall in the painting opened, and a black hooded figure seemed to come out of it. It began to walk towards the frame of the photo.

But after two steps, it froze in its path and pointed at me. I believe I lost consciousness at this point.

Monday, July 27, 2020

It’s gotten worse. Even if I take sedatives, I awake at exactly 3:00 am to see the painting move. And now I have begun to hear the sounds. The door creaking as it opens. The heavy steps of the hooded figure. The bones in its arm creaking as it points its finger at me. Its loud laughter as it stops in its tracks. It gets closer every night.

Tuesday, July 28, 2020

I have begun to look like a mad man. I did not sleep at all last night to prevent myself from having the dream, but it is not a dream. At 3:00 AM, the picture began to move again, and the figure began to step closer. It is so close to the frame, I can make out its features.

It is tall and thin, and there are horns on its head. It scares me to the bone.

Please God, if there is a God in this forsaken mansion, help me!

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

None of the inns around are willing to let me in. An old woman spat in my face and told me I was cursed and doomed to die. Everyone looks at me with contempt. What is going on?

**********

I search the library at the mansion and I’ve discovered the secret. Uncle John had been investigating this too before he’d died. Alas, this was what killed him.

Our ancestor, Irving, had made a deal with the devil to secure him immense wealth for 20 years at the cost of his soul. But he tried to cheat death by running into the church on the due date in which he was supposed to die. Apparently, the painting was a relic from the church which he had stolen ad brought to his house to keep him ‘safe’.

Coincidentally, the name of the painting was The Deceiver’s Hallway, which is a painting of a hallway of a beautiful mansion filled with jewelry and paintings. Alas, he’d brought the devil’s gate into his own home.

I'm doomed

I'm

I don't know anymore.

Friday, July 31

He's about to reach the frame. I do not know whether it's safer to sleep outside agsgnbgbnfgbiub

I can't even write straight anymore.

Is this a nervous breakdown? Am I mad?

I am not mad

Sunday

fsdgf sgfhdjnxbfg

gsdhgnbgfjukm6ujn

gfdjndtnrbhbhr

I'm done for. He will leave the frame this night. I know it.

There is no hope.

******************************

Here, the journal ended. No more was written. All I could discern was that towards the end, Vance was losing his sanity, as seen from his incoherent writing and constant need for cancellations.

"What do you think?" the officer said.

"It's certainly a curious case,' I said turning towards the painting, "have you guys tried removing it?"

"It won't budge. At all. We tried breaking the wall altogether, but an engineer told us that somehow, breaking off that wall would collapse the whole house."

There was a very strange aura in that room and around that painting.

"Do you have a picture of Vance when you first found him?"

"Yes," the officer said, handing me an envelope. Tearing it, I viewed the pictures Tye look on his face was one of terror - feral, distorted, and quite revolting. There was a burn mark on his neck, as though a hand on fire had held him in a chokehold.

"Forensics couldn't identify the size and shape of the hand as being that of a human being."

I was quite confused, but all skeptical.

"I'll sleep here tonight."

"What? You... you cannot do that!"

"I can. I admit there are some outstanding questions that can't be answered unless I see a night here and document my findings."

The officer walked out of the room, constantly looking back and murmuring words like "God save your soul!"

Hmph.

**************************

2:59 AM

I was wide awake watching if anything would happen. Even though I couldn't wait to disprove the claims, with my camera ready, Is till felt goosebumps appear all over my body.

The alarm struck three and I stared closely at the painting.

It couldn't be.

It wasn't possible.

But it had happened.

The door opened.

I grabbed all my personal belongings and raced downstairs. By 3:00 AM, I was at the Trains Station, and as I boarded the train, only then did I realize how lucky I was.

The station was due for maintenance the next day as a train one of the railways - the one back to the city - was due for maintenance, again.