Strange Findings At A National Trust Estate – Part Three

Missed the beginning? Start here.

We’ve unearthed it! I don’t know whether it is fear or excitement that currently pumps through me – but we now know that Tobias was not the madman either of us thought he was. I can’t decide whether to describe it as glorious or dire, but I can at least relay last nights events to you.

We discovered it by accident really. Armed only with our torches, we set out around the grounds in an attempt to find at least something to verify what was said in the journal. Our walk took us past the place where I occasionally find footprints and scuffed-up dirt in the mornings. As we walked over the area, both of our torches dimmed before slowly dying out completely. Puzzled, Andrew turned to the light from his phone only to find the battery drained. Mine followed suit.

After replacing the batteries several times, and each time the torches dying, we came to the conclusion that something was sucking the power from them. Andrew disappeared and quickly returned with an old lantern, whose flame was untouched by whatever was causing the power drains, and a metal detector. The metal detector operated for two minutes before it died, but it gave us what we needed. Something beneath the soil spiked the detector instantly, and it still screamed of its find up to five metres away. We quickly retrieved shovels and returned.

I cannot describe the wave of unbearable nausea that came over me as we dug closer to the stake. Andrew seemed unfazed by it, and continued digging as I rested. Eventually we heard the metallic clang which signaled that we had found what we were looking for. Andrew scrabbled through the dirt and pulled out the stake. It was untarnished by time, still gleaming and showing terrible runes down its side. I didn’t dare touch the thing, as even looking at it provided me with an unwanted migraine.

The oddness of the night did not end there. We quietly returned to the gatehouse after filling the hole and patting the earth down. Andrew had to wrap the stake within a blanket to carry it. The strange metal was cold to the touch, but burnt his hands if held it for too long. I quickly discovered that, when wrapped away, I could just about bear to be within its presence, but once unveiled I had to leave the room. Andrew sat in the living room, relishing his study of it as I sat upstairs. Even with it in the same building I broke out in cold sweats.

Just as I relaxed and became almost accustomed to the presence of the metal, there was a knocking at the door. I don’t mean a slight tap. It was a thundering crash, like a giant bashing the door. I flew out of bed at the sound, thinking that the house was falling down. I ran downstairs to find Andrew frozen in fear, clutching the metal stake close to his chest. An instant and piercing migraine split my skull as I gazed at it. I begged Andrew to cover it up, and once his senses came back to him he quickly tucked it under his coat. We cautiously approached the door and opened it. Nothing. Only the sharp night air entered, and the darkness stayed outside. Needless to say, we did not sleep the rest of the night.

This morning came to us slowly. We thought it was a blessing when the sun rose, but it only illuminated the horrors which the dark had concealed. The front door had three huge dents of splintered wood, one for each knock and as huge as the sound each knock had made. A trail lead from the door, although what caused it I dread to think. I would not say that feet had made it, but something fully unholy. The trail leads to where we had filled in the hole last night. It’s not filled in any more. What I can only describe as claw marks have scrabbled at the earth and dug to the depth of the metal stake. I dread to think of what it is that has done this, and now we don’t know if we can spend another night here.

The metal stake is still now sitting within the gatehouse. We deliberated for some time over where to keep it, but it now resides in Andrew’s room. We agreed that we couldn’t keep such a relic in a shed or outbuilding, but I cannot stand to be within its presence. I have taken Tobias’ journal and will attempt to glean further information from its pages. Hopefully, by nightfall, we shall have some semblance of what to do next. It does not seem right to bury that stake back in its pit. A feeling of dread surrounds my heart, I can only hope that whatever came to the door last night does not return again.

Perhaps whatever came to our door is what took Tobias the night he went missing? If it is, then I refuse to think of what became of him, and I stoutly refuse to think that the same will befall us.

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