(commission) The unfound (Patreon)

It was late one cold October night,

When four young men searched for fright.

They had gone to many a carnival and fait.

No haunted house held that special trait.

True terror is what they sought,

Yet they didn’t get it with each ticket bought.

Yet it was upon this evening of mild screams,

The boys found the mansion of their dreams.

It was tall, rickety and once so grand,

Now the centre of rotten , baron land.

One man , the smartest when on history

Did his best to clear up the lands mystery.

He searched for a name anywhere around,

Yet no peace came from the one he found.

“beware to any who trespass these halls,

They lay home to the Unfound Balls.”

However this warning was taken as joke,

Balls so funny to one he almost did choke.

One man however did not laugh along,

His face was stone and silence strong.

“You laugh at the threat? Then let’s go in?”

The idea made the others blood go thin.

However none would back down,

They’d be the joke of the whole town.

So the four set along the gravelled way,

The manor ahead rotting and grey.

Into the house they went with a shake,

Frightened the floor under may break.

But as the last entered of the four,

Behind them slammed the door.

“Did you do that?” the smart one asked.

His fear as well as the others was de-masked.

The stoic one gathered the lots lost nerve.

The smart one tried to find data to observe.

The jokester tried to find the bright side,

And the biggest coward was trying to hide.

The door would not budge , the lock held shut.

“Get your head , out of your butt!

Why would I lock us in! I already want out.”

Given it was the coward, there was no doubt.

“We must find another exit... At the back?”

The stoic suggested , trying to rally the pack.

The others nodded although there was fear.

Looking to the halls, the dark made them leer.

They pulled out their lighters making a glow.

More of the world around began to show.

Stained wooden lined the rooms floor

Although vines and weeds covered even more.

“we should split up...try find the way out.

If you find a door or window , just shout.”

Stoic instructed , looking down one way,

Two agreed but coward yelled “hey!

What if something happens, and I get hurt?”

And while quite , smart fiddled with his shirt.

Searching for solace , Jokester replied

“worry about that after you have died”

However the joke landed quite hollow

They worried they wouldn’t see tomorrow.

The lot split , heading their separate roads.

Each searching through the abodes.

Jokester walked up the grand staircase.

A nervous smile dawned on his face.

He entered a room upon his right,

And he was for in quite the fright.

Looking around , he saw upon the bed,

A corpse down to bone, long dead.

He yelled out in fear and surprise,

Grossest of all was the dozens of flies.

However his presence upset their peace,

They swiftly left the body of the decease.

A black swarm began to dart to his skin,

Began to bite , feeling like the prick of a pin.

A dozen every second all over his face.

They ripped away flesh at a rapid Pace.

Blood would pour from the wound,

Feeling the pain he turned around,

Yet the door behind him was shut.

He was helpless as his skin was cut.

He grabbed the door knob and pulled it hard,

Yet it seemed impossibly bared.

With every second ,Jokester got weaker.

Turning to the swarm, he grabbed his sneaker.

Wielding it as a weapon he began to swing ,

Yet , he barely hit a flies wing.

“I’m....I’m sorry for coming in this room!”

Yet despite his desperation, his fate now loom.

In an instant the door opened and he fell out,

In a panic he began to flail his arms about.

Despite all that , his skin was without blemish,

Even though his wounds had been garish.

He began to run his hands over his arm,

Finding out he had not suffered harm.

It freaked him out so much he began to shake.

“What...fowl evil did we awake?”

Elsewhere in the house Coward shuddered,

Under his quivering breath he muttered.

“why oh why did I come to this place?”

Fear coated his trembling face.

He had headed down the west hall.

However he checked no doors at all.

Instead he paced along fast.

Desperate to not be gast.

His face had already been scared white,

Not enjoying the absence of light.

Even through the cracks of the window bar,

It was still darker than murky tar.

That was until there came a glow.

Slight blue, the slightest hue ,

Which bathed his in horrid light.

Despite that, it wasn’t bright.

He turned slowly to face the source,

Doing so filled him with great remorse.

A spectre stood before him with devious grin,

It wore a ball gown and held a bottle of gin.

“Come to taste my punch my boy?

Or shall I use your immortal soul as my toy?”

The ghost said before letting out a wail.

The coward away with a scream and flail.

However before he could run far,

A bottle in his lips kept his mouth ajar.

The ghost poured the liquor into him,

Immediately he realized the taste was grim.

But it was not the bitter of bitters ,

Or the coffee that gave him jitters.

Instead it was the grim taste of death,

Little did he realize he took his last breath.

He began to gag on the foul drink,

Its poisonous effect brought him to the brink.

His eyes got heavy, The world went dark,

Hitting the ground, his blood made a mark.

As it spilled from his lips it wrote,

“leave this place, or I’ll slit your throat!”

His falling body put out his flickering light

The first of the boys fell to the night.

The nerd and the stoic grouped together,

Only the stoic had a lighter as a tether.

The two had been searching through hell,

When they heard A fright filled yell.

Smart let out his own scream, yet

“Calm down specs...he just tripped I bet.”

“Then where I ask was the thud?”

However one came from a different bud.

The two kept walking towards the back,

Until from below came a crack.

The floor below broke, sending then down.

unfortunately , the stoic landed on his crown.

Blood pooled on the ground under his head.

Smart began to check him, he wasn’t dead.

Just knocked out , and not too badly.

So smart began to look around slowly.

It appeared they where in a wine cellar.

That was until he found quite the marker.

A body upon the ground next to a gun,

A pool of old blood and a rotten stale bun.

However what really caught his eye ,

A bottle of whiskey of malted rye.

Smart brought his hand down to bottle pick.

He gave it a sniff, the smell of arsenic.

Getting an idea of what may have occurred ,

Smart went to stoic and murmured.

“wake up , we need to get out of here...”

However as he woke, stoic would leer,

Towards the pistol on the ground.

If rust was a liquid it would drown.

Yet something within stoic made him get it,

And try give it a little shine with spit.

It looked a little better , but still a mess.

But it was still a weapon, more or less.

Holding it brought him some peace.

He tucked it between his belt and his fleece.

The pair went up the stairs out the basement.

They stumbled upon a new placement.

They where in a grand dinning hall.

However a graveyard met less wrawl.

Bodies filled every seat of every table.

It was like some grim bloody fable.

All where dead , hands still filled with glass.

None doing much than fertilizing grass.

On the centrepiece in the biggest platter

Laid coward in his own blood splatter.

Smart let out a sudden surprised bellow,

He felt so nauseous his face went yellow.

Yet there was something even more drastic.

Jokester fell through a wall like cheap plastic.

He came out screaming about a ghost.

The spirit itself seemed ready for a toast.

She rose a bottle with great malice.

Pouring some into Joke like he was a chalice.

He fell to the ground, his body shaking .

His life, she was taking.

Stoic drew iron from his belt.

His only defence , or so he felt.

Smart noticed as stoic drew .

That this girl was someone they knew

The body on the cellars floor.

“this woman was shot before!”

However before he could fire,

He began to feel a tire.

The ghost moved forward with a smile.

“do not judge me ,these men where vile,

Hunters and barons of this land,

Their deaths went all as planned.

Now the world is better...thanks to me!”

It chanted in haunting glee.

Stoic however took no lie.

“Then why did our friends die?”

“to keep my secret my dear ,

I must keep what happened here,

If the world’s learns of my deed

It may return to it’s greed.”

She warned out before walking to him

Stoic did his best to fight his dim

The concussion blurred his sight,

And limited his once great might.

In his haze he handed over the gun.

“I can’t shoot...my mind feels numb.

Just... Wait for your shot.

It’s.... It’s the only one you got.”

He told smart before walking to the spirit.

His arms outstretched to embrace it.

It grabbed hold and began to pour.

However stoic dragged it down to the floor.

Without a word, smart cocks the shot

Fires it till it clicked empty and hot.

The ghost was gone into the air,

And the exists opened from her lair.

However stoic had been hit by stray fire.

Yet his face was without any ire.

“Get home... Run from this place...

Just...try your remember this face.”.

He begged before he fell dead,

His head wound leaking more red.

Smart , the last alive , ran to the door,

Sprinting from the manor and then more

Until he reached his home , out of Air.

Yet he didn’t care...he got to live.

Or so he thought , until he turned around

He had been followed by the unfound.