Chateau Du Macabre

"Good evening, gentlemen." The thin man smiled widely, showing far too many yellow teeth.

An ancient black suit hung from his lean frame, fabric patched over so many times it was hard to tell what was left of the original garment. Before him, two boys holding tickets swallowed uneasily. "Are you sure about this? Mom told us to pick out costumes..." The younger one whispered. "Don't be such a wimp, Cory." His brother muttered and after a slight hesitation, stepped forward. "We are, uh... here for the museum of oddities?"

With a flourish, the strange figure bowed and moved aside. “Welcome… to Chateau Du Macabre.” An archway was revealed, looming above a weathered oak door. It opened slowly with an ominous groan.

Stepping through a narrow doorway, the pair blinked as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting within. Before them stretched a massive room packed full of dusty jars and glass cases.

“Henry, what… is this place?” Cory said in awe, making sure to stay close to his brother. “It’s a museum, dumbass.” He peered at a shrunken head, suspended in some mysterious liquid. “Just not one I’ve ever seen before…” Henry muttered and wandered off to look at the other curiosities.

There was no shortage of strange and sinister objects, from two headed fetuses to exotic insect collections. The brothers slowly walked through it all, eyes feasting on dark and twisted things born from the world’s seedy underbelly. “This place wasn’t here yesterday,” Cory said in a low voice. “How did they set all this up so fast?” Henry shrugged as he inspected a mummified dog. “It’s a seasonal thing, like haunted houses or hay rides.”

But the question gave him pause, his little brother was right. This place was new, but felt ageless and lived in… Layers of undisturbed dust clung to the displays, which bore no signs of having moved in years. Shaking off the creeping doubts, he pushed Cory onward. “Stop whining and let’s see everything before Mom finds out.” Tribal masks hung in a row, wooden mouths gaping in frozen screams. Jars of moldy fingernails decayed near a gilded conch shell, candles made from human tallow and canvases splattered with blood, those rusty brown scenes churning Henry's stomach. Never had he seen such a bizarre and morbid assortment of curios. It was awful and yet undeniably fascinating, exploring the vast culmination of taboo mysteries and dark knowledge from across the globe.

Where else could you find Victorian era postmortem photographs sitting beside a crystallized King Scorpion? He glanced at Cory, who wordlessly took the sights in with wide-eyed trepidation. He caught Henry staring and glared. "I'm not scared so don't even say it."

Chuckling, the older brother shook his head. "Your words, not mine. Come on tough guy, let's see what's in the next room."

If the previous displays were disturbing, the ones that followed were the stuff of nightmares. No cobwebs hung on these, not even a speck of dust clung to the tinted glass. Someone had polished and cleaned these with loving care.

A human head sat on a crystal pedestal, grey teeth wired shut with a strange contraption. A plaque revealed if the metal cage didn't hold the skull in place, it would unleash deafening screeches on any passerby until it was laid to rest. Unfortunately, the grave site was currently unknown. "Wailing banshee," Henry muttered. Cory shuddered at the rotting body part, wondering what the screams sounded like.

In the next booth, facial prosthetics from the first World War dangled on wires. Glass eyes peered out from misshapen plastic skin, surrounded by masks and fake jaws lined with ivory teeth. Henry thought about the wounded soldiers. What did it feel like to wear a synthetic disguise, hiding the scars and gaping holes where faces used to be? What did those unblinking organs see?

Cory tugged his sleeve and they moved on.

The boys peered at the shriveled hands of a famous serial killer, notorious for strangling children until their faces turned a distorted purple. Corroded rings shone dully between layers of dried flesh. It must have been a trick, something to do with the lighting, because Cory could have sworn the withered fingers twitched as he passed.

“I don’t like this place.” He clutched Henry’s arm. His brother didn’t push him away for once.

Henry said nothing and stared solemnly at a collection of human bones. A small handwritten sign revealed these remains belonged to a forgotten explorer of the Amazon. His journey came to an end upon discovering a tribe of cannibals. The unfortunate man was promptly devoured alive and several of his bones were cracked open for the black marrow within. "Picked clean," He muttered.

Looking carefully, Henry could see the faint bite marks scarring remnants of that yellowed skeleton. “Let’s hurry,” He swallowed. “It’s getting late.”

Torture devices from various cultures decorated the next room. Cory shied away from an open iron maiden as it loomed over the small boy, razor spikes gleaming wickedly, winged doors threatening to swallow him whole.

He stumbled, righting himself before a oddly shaped contraption. "Pear of Anguish," Henry read aloud. "Was commonly inserted... ah well. It's not really important." He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at the description. Pointing at a smaller 'pear', Cory turned to his brother. "What was that one for?" Shaking his head, the sibling herded Cory away from the display.

The next item required no explanation. A pair of bronze claws, used to shred muscle and rip it off bone. Someone with a sick sense of humor had named them the "Spanish Tickler." How many people had died to that lethal caress?

Countless other tools of torment lay scattered about, forming a shrine dedicated to suffering. Ropes encircled a pyramidal lump of iron. A placard revealed it to be a 'Judas Chair', one of the most excruciating seats ever made. There were rusty thumbscrews and heretic forks, boot crushers and tongue tearers, even the dreaded Brodequin. Henry had never been so thankful that Cory had trouble reading.

While there were no diagrams depicting how these devices were used, the savage metal and detailed descriptions left plenty to the imagination. And it was becoming quite crowded by the second. Slipping through the beaded curtain, the brothers fled from those nightmarish apparatuses.

The next room was a mystery.

“This can’t be right,” Henry frowned. “They have to be joking.”

‘Chubacabra’, the handwritten sign proclaimed. It was a hideous looking creature, part dog and part... something else. Two long hollow fangs and a slithering tongue sprouted from the snarling muzzle. Its eyes were large and bug-like. A row of spikes ran down its hunched back. The limbs were elongated with humanoid hands. Coarse fur covered the creature, which was poised in mid leap.

“Is that real?” Cory peered at the grotesque thing. “I… don’t know.” His brother admitted.

The next display was even more confusing.

“Sea Monk?”

A fish-man lay within the glass, wearing something resembling robes. Blue green scales covered the body, tentacle arms stiffly hanging out from its ‘clothing’. The monk robes were thin layers of fins, now dried and translucent. Its wide flat mouth was lined with rows of sharp teeth. Empty eye sockets stared blankly at the boys as its hungry maw gaped open.

Henry gulped and moved on, tugging his brother along.

Warning signs covered the adjacent case, threatening anyone who considered using flash photography and not to bang on the glass. A red curtain hung over the window. Henry and Cory looked at each other nervously.

“Are we supposed to move it?” Cory asked quietly.

“Go right ahead, dear customers.” A familiar voice startled the siblings. Cory darted behind a pale Henry, who turned to see the thin man looming, skeletal hands clasped. “Goodness me, I didn’t mean to cause a fright.” He grinned unconvincingly. “Just wanted to make sure you were still in one piece…”

A silken cord appeared, dangling from the ceiling.

One end of it brushed Henry's hand, inviting him to pull on the rope and reveal the creature behind the curtain. He shrank away from it to the disgust of the gaunt curator.

"Children are so timid these days..." He muttered and grasped the braided strands impatiently. With an exaggerated pull, he bowed as the sanguine fabric cascaded to the floor.

"Please welcome the newest addition to my collection. I give you one of the most infamous yokai... the Jorogumo!" He straightened, beaming with pride.

Cory and Henry flinched, expecting to see something even more horrific than the previous exhibits combined. Inside the glass chamber, a young Japanese woman in a kimono lay slumped against the wall. Delicate features were shrouded behind her long black hair. She turned away shyly, hiding from the boys gawking at her.

Sobs racked her petite frame as Henry glared at the leering man. "This isn't a monster, you just trapped some poor lady in here. Let her go, you freak!"

The curator chuckled and waggled a finger at the angry customer. "Not so, dear boy. Don't be fooled by her pitiful act, she has lured countless men to their death." Cory looked back at the melancholy lady.

She began to play a flute, listlessly moving her fingers down the instrument. Pure notes rose as the pale woman breathed into the wooden tube, creating a mournful tune that sighed sweetly. The haunting melody spoke of endless sorrows.

Cory gasped when those dark eyes met his. Obsidian pupils glistened with tears, silently pleading for release. "She doesn't seem dangerous to me..." He mumbled, enraptured by the mysterious beauty.

"That's what they all say," The thin man grimaced and tugged on the silk rope again. While the shimmering curtain began to rise, he frowned at the white cord. Shaking the hand holding it, the puzzled curator cursed as he tried to let go.

The somber strains swelled rapidly, music notes morphing into a triumphant song. Realizing his plight too late, the ensnared gentleman cried out as the rope yanked him into the darkness above. Henry and Cory watched the man vanish in wide-eyed wonder.

Behind the crimson curtain, the music ceased.

There was a muffled shout. A brief struggle ensued, someone began desperately beating on the glass. Cory grabbed Henry's arm tightly as the thumping slowed and fell silent.

Gradually, the red fabric began to slip away with a whisper.

Shiny strands of web clung to every surface, obscuring the interior of the exhibit. It was difficult to see anything within expect for an single outline. The curator was encased in web, frantically wriggling as the Jorogumo slowly advanced. The black haired woman was smiling now, wiping away tears with a hairy insect leg. Two more limbs played with her long raven locks, braiding it into a new style.

Cory and Henry screamed as four other eyes opened on her forehead, black pools reflecting the squirming victim and horrified onlookers. Biting red lips in anticipation, the spider yokai gifted her captor a venomous kiss. As she drained the writhing cocoon, she gave the two boys a triple wink. Jolting into action, the pair scrambled away as her screeching laugh echoed through the rest of the exhibits.

"She ate him!" Cory gasped as they sped past the Sea Monk. "Don't talk! Just run or she'll eat us too!" Henry panted, arms swinging and legs pumping. Behind the boys, an unmistakable sound rang out - the musical tinkle of shattering glass.

Thinking fast, Henry snatched his younger brother and propelled him into the torture room as the spider-woman shrieked. Seeing his plan, Cory whimpered. "Please... anything but that." Hearing distant claws clicking a rapid staccato, Henry ignored the pleas. "No choice, just close your eyes!" There was a metallic squeak, a muffled cry, and then silence befell the ominous chamber.

A split second later, the Jorogumo burst into the area. Craning her neck around, she narrowed angular eyes and hissed faintly as her arachnidan form quietly crept over the displays. Her shadow covered the ancient rack, spilling over a splintered pillory and bathing the Judas Chair in gloom as the ravenous yokai searched for tasty morsels. She lunged suddenly, flipping over a table with one fluid motion. Thumbscrews scattered over the room, clanging as rusted devices struck the walls and floor. Amid the cacophony, several dust bunnies rolled away.

Inspecting the empty space, the woman made a disappointed clicking sound in her throat. The slender abdomen twitched. Two legs folded backward, catching web as it oozed from her spinnerets. Limbs kneaded the translucent fluid, pulling and twisting it into a complex lattice that stretched from claw to claw. Satisfied with the new snare, the Jorogumo ventured out into the rooms beyond.

A few minutes after she left, the iron maiden squealed open.

Cory slumped to the ground, shuddering and sweating. He came close to bursting into tears, caught in that suffocating darkness while surrounded by rows of metal thorns. Blood trickled down Henry's neck and head. His little brother jumped when a thumbscrew struck their hiding spot and it took all he had to keep a panicked Cory from thrashing both of them to death.

Wiping the shallow cuts with his shirt, Henry pricked his ears for the creature. Whatever it was doing, no sound came from the hallway. Nudging Cory, he pulled the sniveling boy to his feet. "Come on," Henry whispered. "While it's busy near the front we can find the back exit and escape this freakshow."

Tiptoeing past the wreckage of its cage, Cory shivered as he stared at the deflated cocoon. He didn't want to think about what lay inside. Henry probably knew what happened when spiders ate their prey. It definitely wasn't nice.

Those very thoughts raced through the older brother's head upon discovering that the entrance to the next area was blocked by a silvery web. She was much more clever than he expected. The curator made that fatal mistake. Vowing not to share that same fate, Henry bit his nails and examined the barrier. "Knock it down and let's go," Cory pleaded, hugging himself nervously. Henry shook his head.

"Hold on," He muttered and examined a stray piece of web. It was taut, nearly invisible, connecting to the door and stretching back the way they came. "You aren't going to like this."

Cory eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because we have to get back in the iron maiden."

Working quickly, Henry used the rope and pillory fragments to form a makeshift deadfall next to the yokai's trap. He prayed that she was still prowling around and not doubling back. Once Cory was in place, he tugged the line and raced back into hiding as the wood fell onto the spider silk with a crash.

Cracking a door open, they peered out from the maiden. The line vibrated violently. Silently, the Jorogumo swept over them and slipped into the next room.

Henry opened the maiden and put a finger to his lips. Cory nodded and they stealthily headed towards the front entrance as the creature hissed and rummaged about behind them. There was a sharp clatter. Metal rang out, humming as the thumbscrew bounced away from Cory. He stared at his brother, eyes wide with panic. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to kick i-"

Grabbing the clumsy idiot, Henry propelled them both down the hall as the yokai screeched.

They bumped into a display, knocking over the glass cube. Severed hands tumbled, fingers stiffly moving. Hairy legs spilled into the room, black eyes blinking, plump lips dripping with crimson fluid. Henry tugged his brother, who had fallen still. Paralyzed, Cory could only watch as the Jorogumo advanced. The monstrous woman smiled at him, tongue snaking from her open mouth, tasting the air.

Pulling with all his strength, Henry backed them both behind the dangling prosthetics. Plastic eyes watched, synthetic mouths grinned as the creature's limbs tensed. She played with the snare stretched between her front legs, preparing to strike.

One of the mummified hands twitched. The twin flipped onto its palm, crawling toward the boys like a tarantula. Henry kicked it.

It clung to the dirty sneaker and began clambering up his leg. The second one stretched its cracked digits and began to race towards an immobile Cory. Raising webbed legs, the Jorogumo pounced.

Henry shook his leg, kicking even harder. Losing grip, the sentient appendage flew in an arc and neatly landed in the silken snare. This made the spider lady freeze in momentary confusion. The hand angrily struggled against the sticky prison, tangling itself even further as the creature gave it a puzzled sniff. Grinning, Henry swiped at the second hand and lobbed it towards the yokai. She leapt away, springing into the display of army prosthetics.

Steel wires wrapped around hairy limbs, catching the gooey strands in her flailing grasp and entangling the monster in an artificial web. Her delicate features contorted in rage, spitting venom at the retreating boys.

Cory was finally coming out of his trance. He seemed a bit dazed and confused but it wasn't any more than his usual self. "Did you really just do that...?" Henry looked over his shoulder at the thrashing yokai and nodded. "Looks that way. I don't think it will hold so we'd better m-"

A shape sprang from the ground and landed on his face. The severed hand scratched and clawed, moving towards a vulnerable neck. "Oruh hep muh!" Henry mumbled, grappling with the evil hand as Cory frantically searched for something to use against it. "Hold on!" He shouted and ransacked the loaded tables. A music box fell, freeing a trapped spirit. Snake bracelets came to life, slithering away once Cory touched them. Mirrors cracked and insects buzzed. "ORUH URREY UP!"

"I'm TRYING!" The boy sobbed, tears falling on a dried vampire bat... making it slightly damp. Fingers clumsily sorted through the pile of random objects, reaching for a stick, a dagger, a fork, anything that could help his brother fend off the killer hand. His skin brushed against something cold. Pulling it free, Cory stared in awe at the golden conch shell. 'Use in case of emergency', the tag warned. He could read that much, at least.

Yanking the squirming hand free, Henry flung it across the room and gave Cory a bloodshot glare. "Thanks for the assist, doofus. Stupid thing almost poked my eyes out."

Cory pouted. His reply was lost in a sudden crash, followed by an ear-piercing howl. His older brother was shouting something. The faceless spirit from the music box danced on the ceiling. Gold snakes chased a bronze scarab beetle around broken mirrors as a rust-colored girl watched from the bloody canvas. Two headed fetuses swam in formaldehyde pools. The vampire bat flapped its wings. Sinister hands appeared again, one mummified in web and the other looking rather mangled.

And all the while the horrible scream dragged on.

Henry hugged his younger brother, grimly observing the surrounding collection of cursed and dangerous items as they drew closer to the pair. Then the Jorogumo appeared. Her lithe form gave way to a bulbous abdomen as she pulled herself into the antechamber. Behind the yokai, a skull rolled around, wailing incessantly. She kicked it back, sending the howling head bouncing as the cries slightly faded.

Hands rose on wrist stumps, strangling the air. Metallic snakes ignored the beetle and coiled around the boys' legs. The spirit floated down and opened a mouth full of blinking eyes. Squeaking hungrily, the vampire bat flapped it wings and fluttered toward a bleeding Henry. Lowering herself, the spider-woman gazed at Cory, tenderly putting a hand under his chin. He looked up hopefully.

She smirked, slender fangs protruding from soft lips.

Henry squeezed his brother. "It's going to be okay... Whatever happens, I'm right beside you." Cory nodded silently. The horde descended. Calmly, the boy lifted the golden shell and blew.

Water rushed in from every direction, flooding the Chateau Du Macabre in a maelstrom of mayhem. Vintage photographs, assorted bones, taxidermy animals, leather books, stone artifacts, antique contraptions, planchettes, strange crystals, Ouija boards, burial shrouds, gas masks, candelabras, cursed knives, gargoyles, porcelian dolls, poisonous wreathes, and countless other artifacts swam beside the brothers as the whirlpool spun their entire world around and around until everything blurred and the nightmare parade splashed and floundered and reached out for the pair as they slowly sank...

Sank to the doors they passed through an hour before. Hinges bulged. Wood groaned. Boys choked for air. Then there was a muffled crack and they rocketed in a jet of water out into the abandoned parking lot. Cory wheezed, sputtering and hacking up foul tasting liquid. Still clutched in his grasp, the conch shell crumbled into a golden dust and faded into the air.

"That was a priceless artifact," A sour voice remarked.

Henry and Cory yelped as the curator rose, shaking water from his tattered suit. "H-how?" Henry stuttered. The man sniffed unpleasantly. "In this line of business, one tends to develop side effects from dealing with... malicious items. I'd nearly finished reconstituting myself when this little brat decided to use Neptune's Horn." He glowered at Cory, who sought refuge behind his protector/sibling.

Henry scowled back. "We could have died in there," He spat. "The hell kinda creepy shit are you into, dude? Nobody in their right mind would want to go back to that place."

Nodding sympathetically, the thin man sighed reluctantly. "Of course, of course... The customer is always right. If things hadn't taken a nasty turn you lads would've been home, no worse for the wear."

He waved a hand at the wreckage of Chateau Du Macabre. "If you'd like, please feel free to take one item each from my collection. It might be a bit moist at the moment, but I'm sure you can find something to your liking."

Cory looked at Henry and shook his head. "I'm not going back in there."

Henry smiled. "We don't need to." Bending down, he snatched a pair of tribal masks floating in a puddle. "These won't summon anything or kill us, will they?"

Insulted by the question, the curator denied any such outcomes. "Not everything is deadly, I'll have you know. Some of it I keep for the aesthetic appeal."

Henry gave him a long look. "Alright," He grimaced. "But if something funny happens, you're gonna wish we never set foot in that horror show of yours."

After a farewell bow, the curator straightened, watching the battered pair head home. "Little brats," He muttered and set about collecting the drowned items that had been swept outside. A soggy piece of paper floated in a puddle. It twisted, printed side facing up.

The lettering read: CURSED TRIBAL MASKS - ONCE WORN CAN NEVER BE REMOVED.