Oh, hello. I didn’t see you standing there for a second. You’ll pardon the dim lighting I hope. We like to keep things a little murky here in the castle.
Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jose. Yes it is a rather dull name, isn’t it? Well aside from my arcane tastes I’m a pretty normal, dull person. I think the castle just adds a little mystery to me.
I happened upon the place quite by accident. I was just taking a late afternoon stroll in town when I noticed the beaten “For Sale” sign swinging in the castle’s front courtyard. It’s hard not to notice the place... the castle is perched atop a great, weed-choked hill overlooking our little suburbia of Charlene Harbor. A great old spooky house, like something you’d see in a James Whale picture. Seeing that it was up for grabs, I couldn’t resist a look-see.
I had barely set my foot down on the mildewed floorboards when I was overwhelmed by a rotting, slack-jawed deadite in a frumpled business suit. He went by the name of Gus Rot and in his previous life he was the sharpest real estate agent around before a terrible poisoned vodka incident brought an end to his inebriated existence. But before I knew it the place at 1341 Hangman’s Row had been practically given to me, all matters tied up with a quick signature in rat’s blood.
The estate came with its perks of course. Nothing I’m not entirely used to... a wolf’s howl in the night here, a ghostly maiden seen drifting through the cracked corridors of the east wing there. The gremlins that infest the garden can be irksome at times, but it’s nothing a good splash of holy water can’t fix.
One of the more surprising things I discovered was that the castle still had living (well, mostly living) inhabitants residing in it. Of all the ghouls and long leggity-beasties that slink their way through dusty chambers and cobwebbed galleries, Stephen quickly became my best friend and boon companion.
Stephen happens to be a talking gorilla who possesses a magnificent singing voice. Many a night has passed with us discussing important matters such as the economy, global relations, and just what Lon Chaney’s 1,001st face would have looked like over a glass of red wine and a plate of juicy hamburgers. Stephen is also an excellent chef.
The name Mephisto is of no relation to me. Apparently it was the house’s previous owner, a rather diabolical fellow who had interests similar to my own. No one will tell me much about him or what happened to him; even Stephen breaks out in a sweat at the mention of his name, the words seeming to grip his crooked spine with an icy fist.
Pieces of whispered information and the scant remains of some oil paintings have revealed that the High Lord Count Mephisto, as he liked to be called, was a bit of a wunderkind. Alchemy, mad surgery, sorcery, vampirism, ballroom dancing. The man apparently did it all. He left behind a dark legacy, one that is manifested in the long shadow of his ancient house that covers nearly the entire neighborhood. But Mephisto left something else behind too.
As I mentioned before, the castle (which really looks more like a mansion; I think Mephisto liked the dramatic effect) is full of surprises. A quick tour by flickering candelabrum revealed countless rooms, all of them filled to the brim with objects of the late owner’s obsession with horror. Stacks of films, books, recordings and more twisted into heights unlimited in these dens of depravity. It is what is left of Mephisto’s collection, all of them sealed in their respective chambers away from prying eyes.
Until now.
Lovingly and with curator’s care I’ve wiped the dust and grime from the pieces of the collection in order to bring back a bit of the castle’s former glory. Whether Stephen and I are setting the reel of a Universal chiller into the grainy projector, or thrilling to the shrieking organ of a Lights Out episode, or thumbing through a vintage copy of Famous Monsters of Filmland, we take on our task of reviewing each object in Mephisto’s Castle with the zest of the adventurer and the devotion of the life-long genre fan.
Perhaps you’d like to stay a while and have a look around the place for yourself? Be sure to take the lantern with you. These halls can be quite treacherous at times, and you have no idea who (or what) you might literally run into. We have strange guests who like to pop in at odd hours, but pay no mind to them. Just try not to wander too far from the grounds. The leeches out by the lake grow pretty big and there’s no guarantee that the demon trees won’t try to snatch you away.
Whatever your destination may be, we hope you have fun. In the wise words of another count: “Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!”
.jpg)
