Archie was dropped off at his house, and he thanked the people kindly for the ride. Though there wasn't really a lot to be kind about in this matter. Oh no, the only good he sought from this situation was the pen, and he kept it in his waist coat-- inside pocket, incase he does happen upon the house again, and the man who threw himself into the fit of asphyxiation (still such a peculiar sight...) would happen upon noticing it. He looked over the house, and kept his gaze down onto the grass. He felt... unwelcomed. Even in his own home. He wanted to look up at the attic, but he knew that's where she lived. His mother still haunts that retched place, but he's only ever so thoughtful of the situation when he thinks, "Why just the top floor?"
Archie went through the back of the house, and he made his presents known when he walked in. He tripped up on the stairs, and was sure that his father would throw a fit of him being out so late-- he'd throw a damn fit if he knew he left at all! Archibald stood up, and waited in one spot for his scolding. He waited a long time, actually. He nervously called for his father, but again, nothing. Archie let out a sad sigh, and left to his room in the basement, like Little Red Riding Hood after she found out that The Big Bad Wolf ate her grandmother.
Archie wasn't going to bed. Oh no, he had enough adventure for that day, and he didn't want to have one while asleep. Once he was down stairs, he closed the door and changed into a new pair of pants and shirt. He still kept his overcoat on, but he switched his pants for black ones and his dirty shirt for a clean, white one. It had been his favorite-- it had lovely cuff links, with gold beetles on the collar and the cuffs themselves! He wore it, flashed around in his pants, decided to change his overcoat at once (to a grey one, with the pen still in his pocket, mind you. He was also a gent and took out Lyall from his front pocket. Poor thing fell asleep after all the commotion. He set the little thing on a spare rag he kept near his charcoal) and he went off to his workbench.
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It was late. Late in the early hours of the morning. The young adolescent had been fiddling with a device for a while now, and to be frank, he hadn't the slightest clue as to what it does. Archibald wasn't sure how long he had been awake for, but he was sure that he couldn't take much longer of this. He rested his chin on his hand, and let his eyelids droop. It wasn't long till his head made contact with the desk, and he was snoring loudly. He was, atleast, till he heard a faint voice.
"Wake up! Wake up, chief! Wake up!"
Archie's eyes fluttered open at the sight of.... Lyall. Lyall, the mouse, perched before him on the device that seemed to be of no importance.
"Oh, good! You're awake, chief. Pleasant dreams are unhealthy. They distract the mind, chief! Well, I'm glad you're up anyway. Awake activity will be sure to keep you out of trouble. But you see, It's coming, chief! It's coming!"
Archibald was sure he was going crazy. He sat up in his chair and squinted at the mouse. Lyall was talking to him. Sure, her little mouth wasn't moving, and she just sat there and groomed herself, but there was a faint voice in the back of his head narrating for her. Archie rubbed his eyes, and looked back. The mouse was doing the exact same as before, but Lyall suddenly stopped, and looked at him with bright black eyes. Archie sat back in his chair, and the mouse inched forward. He raised an eyebrow at it, and watched it closely.
"I know what the banter is, chief. I saw you with the new folk. I saw an awful lot today. An AWFUL lot. The man who turned blue, chief! He's up to something, I tell you! Most likely plotting with It, I can tell you that much. Ooh, they're up to something, those folk! You can't trust any of them, chief!"
Well, he was going crazy. He leaned in close, and whispered to his friend. "Excuse me?" He asked. It was the most intelligent thing he thought to do! What else was he to do when he saw his best friend talking to him? The mouse hopped onto the floor, and looked over at Archibald. His blood ran cold, and he stood up after the mouse.
"It's over the bridge, chief! The one who's plotting with the man!"
"O-Over the bridge? That's the Brighton Manor..."
"The manor, chief! We have to get there before It starts plotting with the new folk!"
"It's the dead of morning Lyall, and I-" He paused, and covered his face with his hands. "...And I'm arguing with a mouse."
"Chief, come quickly! There is trouble, great trouble! It'll find us, Archibald! It's on it's way right now! I've talked to the good beetles about it. They're good doctors. They're good at these sort of things, don't you know, chief?"
"...And are you quite sure?"
"Sure as buttons, chief, sure as buttons!"
Archibald was sure this was some kind of trap, or perhaps a hallucination from lack of sleep, but he was soon out the door of the basement, and he was following a field-mouse over the bridge to the manor. He heard other voices, too. Faint, like Lyall's, but in quite a different spectrum of disturbing. Of course, they didn't call him 'chief', but they did call him out on other things... One in particular caught him right away. Oh, what that bug said to him riled him up bad.
"I've been watching you, little map slave... in the shower, yes? Becoming quite the young gentlemen aren't we? If you know what I mean. Uh? Yes? Oh dear!"
Over the river and across the bridge later, they came upon the large house. He followed the trail that Lyall faintly left and continued on, noticing that the sun was coming out. Was it perhaps sometime around four, or five in the morning? Oh, bugger, if he was going to be gone away when his father gets home... Well, that was if he got home. He sighed, and wished things were different. It's never been the same since his mother died. It was obvious, really, because animals never talked to him, either. Soon, they made their way around the house in secret, and found themselves in the stables. Lyall climbed the boards, and perched on the plank.
"What is it?" Archie asked, as he tried to catch up. He caught the smell of something terrible.
"It's already got it, Chief. We're late."
"W-what?" Archie quickened his pace, and saw the horrific sight. There was so much blood. He never saw a scene like this before. The horse (or what was left of it) was completely dead, with it's entrails ripped out, and the blood covering all of the hay and even the water itself. Archie was going to be sick. He was going off to the side to find a respectable place to vomit, when he heard a wicked howl from behind him.
Everything was moving so fast. The figure, the scream, the howl. Archie felt his heart drop to his chest as the beast caught up to him, and he saw the gnashing teeth and the spitting tongue. The creature lunged at Archie's throat, and then suddenly...
Archie woke up.
He was at his work bench. He was in his room. In his house. With Lyall still on the charcoal, and his odd creation on the table. Archibald was at a loss for words right then. Everything seemed so real. He could still feel the creature's breath on his neck... Archie looked at his mouse, and poked it slightly. No voice. No respond. No chief. He sighed, fixed his coat, and slipped his little friend in there. It wasn't long after that until his father came down, with some food for his son. They engaged in conversation, and when Archie asked where he had been, Dr. Angstrom simply said that there was an emergency house call. His father got those all the time, so he really didn't leave that night.
As they continued to talk, Dr. Angstrom brought up the topic of a birthday at the Brighton manor, and how he should go. Archie decided to take a leap of faith, and to attend.
Brighton Parsonage was an easy distance from the village in it's own quiet nook, build on a flat spot about halfway down a hill and surrounded by trees. There was a little path that led up to the grey stone building from the road (which was more of a farmer's road that led off toward several nearby properties) and what looked like an attempt at a garden on one side that was badly in need of weeding.