Art Entwined In Blood
Secrets
"What did he do? Why can't you talk? Can you even open your mouth?"
Frank circled Mr. Mullock as they walked back to Frank's house through the back roads. Mr. Mullock was not amused by Frank's questions, so he ignored them, hoping he would stop; he didn't, of course. Mr. Mullock stopped walking and turned to Frank with an irritable expression. A muffled shout was heard through his pursed lips, but Frank couldn't quite understand what he was saying. He lightly tapped the raging troll's mouth, releasing a continuous string of curses and swears, reunited with the air around them. Mr. Mullock, realizing he could talk, stood dumbfoundedly staring at Frank.
"H-How did ye do that?"
"I just touched your mouth, man."
"But...But how! I be practicin' fo' cent'ries to o'rcome the Ways! How did ye do it so easily?"
"I don't...know," Frank droned, trying to connect centuries to Gerard.
"Witchcraft...," he slipped under his breath. Frank looked through a light fog at the brooding mansion, seeming to scan the courtyard. His gaze dropped to his feet, dejectedly.
"There's always tomorrow."
----------
"I can't take it anymore!"
"Gerard, calm down. Don't you dare conform to the current vulgarity that humans call the English language!"
Gerard glared at the other man, starting to pace down a long corridor. The man stood in a doorway, watching him. Gerard stopped pacing to straighten a picture frame on the stone wall, then resumed walking, his velvet hood draping the maroon carpeting under his feet.
"I am not conforming!" Gerard yelled when he passed the man. "And besides, are humans really as vulgar as we say they are? Have times changed, brother? How do we know who to trust and who not to trust?"
The man looked into Gerard's eyes and growled, "We trust no one, brother."
"And that is why we must change. There is a ceremony tonight, and I sincerely hope you would join me."
"Brother, you need to sleep. It is at least high noon. Your eyes are purple."
"I have no need of your supervision!" Gerard stopped in the doorway. "I am the eldest! Do what you please, brother, but I am to do what pleases me! Go and pillage the next town over; rape and slaughter them! I have no care for them! I have no need! They are worthless to me, as is everyone other than Frank!"
"I thought his name was Frances?"
Gerard released a large breath and whispered, "He prefers to be known as Frank. I am able to grant that wish, and so I shall. Conjointly, I won't have to remember Frances Burks, now will I?"
"Yet you still have his painting," the man cooed nonchalantly, with a smirk.
"Brother, I suggest you leave now, lest you become a feast," Gerard snarled.
The man raised his arms in a guiltless surrender and sauntered toward the main staircase.
"Oh, and Michael?"
The man turned.
"Do be a gentleman and inform Madam Iero that her husband...," he paused, looking out the window, "is trying to get himself killed."
He nodded, bumped Esmerelda out of her web, and withdrew from the mansion walls.
"Filthy plunderer and his horde of Hobbits," Gerard spat, picking up Esmerelda and placing her back in her web.
Frank strolled up to the mansion doors once more, only to collide with a brooding man that looked strikingly similar to Gerard. The man gave Frank an evil look, then passed on his way, seeming to disappear in the fog.
"Who was th-"
"Now, don' get caught up with him, aye? Just get yo'self goin'," Mr. Mullock pushed Frank up to the doors. They opened easier than usual, seeming to be weak like a person who hadn't gotten sleep. The entire inside of the normally warm mansion was now cold, no lit candles in sight. Leaves blew in through the door, changing from a bright orange or red to a distasteful brown in a matter of seconds. He grabbed a small metal plate with a candle on it and lit it with a match. I knew these would come in handy, he thought. He didn't bother closing the door, but progressed up the old staircase that seemed very fragile. As he approached the top of the flight, he still could not see any light down either hallways. He knew his way to Gerard's library by now, so he moved in that direction. Mr. Mullock followed closely behind, fearful of anything that may appear behind him.
"There are more spiderwebs than usual..."
"Esmerelda's gettin' artsy perhaps?"
"No... No. Like cobwebs," he moved the candle toward some of them with leaves caught in them, "like they've been here for a long time."
They continued their wandering, and came across a closed door where Gerard's library was. Frank turned the cold knob and his face struck a certain panic. He looked at Mr. Mullock.
"He told me he never locks doors," he whispered, his eyes wide with fear like a child who heard an owl for the first time. He tried turning it again, only to get stopped by a metal lock once more. Mr. Mullock pushed Frank out of the way and rammed into the door, which made a slight cracking sound. He did it several times, Frank flinching at each one. The door finally gave, releasing a cloud of dust that erupted from the room. They walked inside to see a dry fireplace, precarious holes in the floorboards, and books that looked as if they hadn't been touched in decades. A sudden realization washed over Frank as he ran over to the web covered desk chair and ran his fingers over the arm: there were no engravings.
"Hey, Mullock...," Frank choked out through upcoming tears, "let's get out of here. I don't... I don't think he's here anymore."
"Aye, boy."
There was the sound of a large group of people approaching the library, and Frank could make out one distinct voice, while the rest were murmurs.
"And here is the main hallway, where he spent a lot of his time in his library reading books that he had collected over the course of his life. We can go inside, if you'd all like! Oh," she paused, "Oh dear...this door has been vandalized! Uh, no worries, no worries! We'll just, um. We'll just carry on. Let's enter, shall we?"
A petite woman clad in tight white clothes entered the room, a group of tourists, ranging from teens to the elderly, followed behind her. Frank had sat in the big chair before they appeared, and Mr. Mullock had slipped under the desk. They only had a few lamps, so Frank was hoping they wouldn't see him if he acted as a mannequin.
"Watch out for the holes in the floorboards; there might be some under the rug too, so please be careful. Alright, is everyone in? Okay. So over there is where he usually sat," she pointed over to the fireplace, "and he read books or reflected on his life and business management. And over he- Oh my God!" she placed a hand on her heart. "Sir! What are you doing in here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Frank looked at her, almost dazed and failing to realize what was going on.
"What?"
"What are you doing in here, Sir? This mansion is off-limits to anyone that isn't included in the tour."
"Tour?"
"Yes," she sighed, "Honestly, stop smoking. It'll do wonders."
Frank sat up a bit and rubbed his eyes, "I'm not a stoner."
"Then can you please tell me what you're doing in here?"
"I was... I was looking for someone. With my friend."
"Sir, there hasn't been anyone living here for the past century. Who were you looking for? And where is your friend?"
"Um, Gerard Way. And my friend is...," he looked under the desk but found nothing, "gone, I guess. His name is Mr. Mullock."
She looked bewildered, and looked at him with the lamp closer to his face. "Gerard Way? Mr. Mullock?"
Frank nodded, confident yet scared.
Her tone was softer now, filled with what seemed like sympathy for the insane, "Hun, Mr. Way and Mr. Mullock are long gone. They haven't been alive since 1873. Are you sure they're who you were looking for?"
"Yes, I'm sure, and that's not true. I just saw him today. And... And he got a fortune from the stock crash. How could he have been dead before it?"
"His lover collected the money after his suicide and ran off with it. To Europe, most historians say," she glanced down at his wrists. "Are you from anywhere? Do you need help getting back?"
"I'm not crazy," Frank whispered. "I just talked to him today. And Mr. Mullock was just with me!", he raised his voice. "Maybe he has secret powers, I don't know what trolls do!"
"Troll?" she raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Mullock was Gerard's business partner. He passed away from pnemonia a few weeks before Gerard took his own life."
Frank decided to stop arguing before he was put into an asylum, "Why didn't his lover stop him? She must've been pretty nice, right?"
"He," she corrected him, "and no, actually, Frances Burks was an awful person. I don't know why Gerard ever gave anything to him."
Frank looked down at his shoes. That's why he liked me so much, he thought, I just reminded him of his asshole lover from the 1800s.
"What year is this?"
She scoffed a little, before realizing he was serious, "It's 1972. Almost the hundred year anniversary of Mr. Way's suicide. Shouldn't you know what the year is?"
Frank shakily stood up and walked towards the door.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Yes?" she said confused.
"He had a brother, too."
Frank circled Mr. Mullock as they walked back to Frank's house through the back roads. Mr. Mullock was not amused by Frank's questions, so he ignored them, hoping he would stop; he didn't, of course. Mr. Mullock stopped walking and turned to Frank with an irritable expression. A muffled shout was heard through his pursed lips, but Frank couldn't quite understand what he was saying. He lightly tapped the raging troll's mouth, releasing a continuous string of curses and swears, reunited with the air around them. Mr. Mullock, realizing he could talk, stood dumbfoundedly staring at Frank.
"H-How did ye do that?"
"I just touched your mouth, man."
"But...But how! I be practicin' fo' cent'ries to o'rcome the Ways! How did ye do it so easily?"
"I don't...know," Frank droned, trying to connect centuries to Gerard.
"Witchcraft...," he slipped under his breath. Frank looked through a light fog at the brooding mansion, seeming to scan the courtyard. His gaze dropped to his feet, dejectedly.
"There's always tomorrow."
----------
"I can't take it anymore!"
"Gerard, calm down. Don't you dare conform to the current vulgarity that humans call the English language!"
Gerard glared at the other man, starting to pace down a long corridor. The man stood in a doorway, watching him. Gerard stopped pacing to straighten a picture frame on the stone wall, then resumed walking, his velvet hood draping the maroon carpeting under his feet.
"I am not conforming!" Gerard yelled when he passed the man. "And besides, are humans really as vulgar as we say they are? Have times changed, brother? How do we know who to trust and who not to trust?"
The man looked into Gerard's eyes and growled, "We trust no one, brother."
"And that is why we must change. There is a ceremony tonight, and I sincerely hope you would join me."
"Brother, you need to sleep. It is at least high noon. Your eyes are purple."
"I have no need of your supervision!" Gerard stopped in the doorway. "I am the eldest! Do what you please, brother, but I am to do what pleases me! Go and pillage the next town over; rape and slaughter them! I have no care for them! I have no need! They are worthless to me, as is everyone other than Frank!"
"I thought his name was Frances?"
Gerard released a large breath and whispered, "He prefers to be known as Frank. I am able to grant that wish, and so I shall. Conjointly, I won't have to remember Frances Burks, now will I?"
"Yet you still have his painting," the man cooed nonchalantly, with a smirk.
"Brother, I suggest you leave now, lest you become a feast," Gerard snarled.
The man raised his arms in a guiltless surrender and sauntered toward the main staircase.
"Oh, and Michael?"
The man turned.
"Do be a gentleman and inform Madam Iero that her husband...," he paused, looking out the window, "is trying to get himself killed."
He nodded, bumped Esmerelda out of her web, and withdrew from the mansion walls.
"Filthy plunderer and his horde of Hobbits," Gerard spat, picking up Esmerelda and placing her back in her web.
Frank strolled up to the mansion doors once more, only to collide with a brooding man that looked strikingly similar to Gerard. The man gave Frank an evil look, then passed on his way, seeming to disappear in the fog.
"Who was th-"
"Now, don' get caught up with him, aye? Just get yo'self goin'," Mr. Mullock pushed Frank up to the doors. They opened easier than usual, seeming to be weak like a person who hadn't gotten sleep. The entire inside of the normally warm mansion was now cold, no lit candles in sight. Leaves blew in through the door, changing from a bright orange or red to a distasteful brown in a matter of seconds. He grabbed a small metal plate with a candle on it and lit it with a match. I knew these would come in handy, he thought. He didn't bother closing the door, but progressed up the old staircase that seemed very fragile. As he approached the top of the flight, he still could not see any light down either hallways. He knew his way to Gerard's library by now, so he moved in that direction. Mr. Mullock followed closely behind, fearful of anything that may appear behind him.
"There are more spiderwebs than usual..."
"Esmerelda's gettin' artsy perhaps?"
"No... No. Like cobwebs," he moved the candle toward some of them with leaves caught in them, "like they've been here for a long time."
They continued their wandering, and came across a closed door where Gerard's library was. Frank turned the cold knob and his face struck a certain panic. He looked at Mr. Mullock.
"He told me he never locks doors," he whispered, his eyes wide with fear like a child who heard an owl for the first time. He tried turning it again, only to get stopped by a metal lock once more. Mr. Mullock pushed Frank out of the way and rammed into the door, which made a slight cracking sound. He did it several times, Frank flinching at each one. The door finally gave, releasing a cloud of dust that erupted from the room. They walked inside to see a dry fireplace, precarious holes in the floorboards, and books that looked as if they hadn't been touched in decades. A sudden realization washed over Frank as he ran over to the web covered desk chair and ran his fingers over the arm: there were no engravings.
"Hey, Mullock...," Frank choked out through upcoming tears, "let's get out of here. I don't... I don't think he's here anymore."
"Aye, boy."
There was the sound of a large group of people approaching the library, and Frank could make out one distinct voice, while the rest were murmurs.
"And here is the main hallway, where he spent a lot of his time in his library reading books that he had collected over the course of his life. We can go inside, if you'd all like! Oh," she paused, "Oh dear...this door has been vandalized! Uh, no worries, no worries! We'll just, um. We'll just carry on. Let's enter, shall we?"
A petite woman clad in tight white clothes entered the room, a group of tourists, ranging from teens to the elderly, followed behind her. Frank had sat in the big chair before they appeared, and Mr. Mullock had slipped under the desk. They only had a few lamps, so Frank was hoping they wouldn't see him if he acted as a mannequin.
"Watch out for the holes in the floorboards; there might be some under the rug too, so please be careful. Alright, is everyone in? Okay. So over there is where he usually sat," she pointed over to the fireplace, "and he read books or reflected on his life and business management. And over he- Oh my God!" she placed a hand on her heart. "Sir! What are you doing in here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Frank looked at her, almost dazed and failing to realize what was going on.
"What?"
"What are you doing in here, Sir? This mansion is off-limits to anyone that isn't included in the tour."
"Tour?"
"Yes," she sighed, "Honestly, stop smoking. It'll do wonders."
Frank sat up a bit and rubbed his eyes, "I'm not a stoner."
"Then can you please tell me what you're doing in here?"
"I was... I was looking for someone. With my friend."
"Sir, there hasn't been anyone living here for the past century. Who were you looking for? And where is your friend?"
"Um, Gerard Way. And my friend is...," he looked under the desk but found nothing, "gone, I guess. His name is Mr. Mullock."
She looked bewildered, and looked at him with the lamp closer to his face. "Gerard Way? Mr. Mullock?"
Frank nodded, confident yet scared.
Her tone was softer now, filled with what seemed like sympathy for the insane, "Hun, Mr. Way and Mr. Mullock are long gone. They haven't been alive since 1873. Are you sure they're who you were looking for?"
"Yes, I'm sure, and that's not true. I just saw him today. And... And he got a fortune from the stock crash. How could he have been dead before it?"
"His lover collected the money after his suicide and ran off with it. To Europe, most historians say," she glanced down at his wrists. "Are you from anywhere? Do you need help getting back?"
"I'm not crazy," Frank whispered. "I just talked to him today. And Mr. Mullock was just with me!", he raised his voice. "Maybe he has secret powers, I don't know what trolls do!"
"Troll?" she raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Mullock was Gerard's business partner. He passed away from pnemonia a few weeks before Gerard took his own life."
Frank decided to stop arguing before he was put into an asylum, "Why didn't his lover stop him? She must've been pretty nice, right?"
"He," she corrected him, "and no, actually, Frances Burks was an awful person. I don't know why Gerard ever gave anything to him."
Frank looked down at his shoes. That's why he liked me so much, he thought, I just reminded him of his asshole lover from the 1800s.
"What year is this?"
She scoffed a little, before realizing he was serious, "It's 1972. Almost the hundred year anniversary of Mr. Way's suicide. Shouldn't you know what the year is?"
Frank shakily stood up and walked towards the door.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Yes?" she said confused.
"He had a brother, too."
Oh my god this is amazing! I'm hooked! Please update pweeeeeeeeeseeee *HUGE puppy dog eyes*
11/20/15