Don't Apologize

JonMcClusk By JonMcClusk, 16th Oct 2013 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Horror

Discover the beautiful orphanage of Addieville, Illinois and the horrible tragedy that occurred within its walls.

*WARNING: Not suitable for young readers or for weak stomachs.*

Addieville, Illinois is a very small town, have you ever been? No, of course you haven't, because not many people know it exists. Town has always been small, drive fast enough and you would pass right through the damn thing. The size of the town isn't why I bring it up, no, it's the size of the town's lore that really matters.

Just on the edge of town resides a small orphanage. In a town as small as Addieville, it was easily the only thing worth seeing. And worth seeing it was; beautifully built and well preserved, children happy and carefree, and the air around the place was pleasant with pumpkin spice all year 'round. This was because the caretaker of the orphanage was such a lovely woman by the name of Alisa Du Par.

Now about thirty five years ago, a middle-aged man came to the orphanage saying to Miss Du Par that he would like to adopt. This was a lie, of course, if only she could have seen the grin on that man's face as he watched her round the children up inside. He followed them in and waited for Miss Du Par to line the children up so he could see them. She was never too keen about letting one of her children go but she knew they deserved a proper home.

This middle-aged man eyed the children strangely as he walked the line. He stopped at the youngest, Billy, who was merely six at the time. “Would ya look at you, I bet you're a real help to Miss Du Par with the housework.” Billy kind of shied away as young ones tend to do, but he gave a nod after a moment. “No need to be shy, I bet you would be quite useful 'round my farm. Wouldn't ya love to ride the horses, collect the eggs, and feed the animals?” Billy gave another shy nod and the middle-aged man gave him a smile from underneath the brim of his hat.

“How's 'bout we seal it with a hug?” Billy looked at Miss Du Par, she gave him a nod and a smile. Billy walked up to the man, who was now crouching, and wrapped his arms around his neck. Miss Du Par had seen tears in Billy's eyes, tears of joy she thought, because she didn't see the blood until after Billy dropped to the floor. The man had a knife in his hand and he quickly snatched the youngest girl, Isabelle, by the arm. She struggled but stopped when the steel softly touched her neck. “And I bet you would love to bake bread from my fresh grown wheat.” His words sounded so sweet as the steel ran across her neck.

Miss Du Par had tried to stop him, but he slammed the handle of the knife into the side of her head and she fell to the floor. The other children were trying to make their escape but he had locked the door. Just as they were getting it open he came to it and slammed it shut again. “Come now, don't ya'll want ta live on my farm.” His sickening tone of voice echoed through their heads as one by one he killed the other four children in the orphanage; Mark, Bobby, Cassandra, and Stephen. None older than fourteen.

He made his way back to Miss Du Par who was coming to again; he cut her clothes off with the knife and put her on all fours. She vomited anything that was in her stomach as she saw the blood of her children; their entrails carpeted the floor of her once beloved orphanage. She was too shocked to feel him slip in, he raped her there and forced her to look at the bodies of her dead children as he did. When he was finished he left her lying on the bloodied floor with the knife right beside her.

After a few days the town had grown suspicious. It wasn't like Miss Du Par to keep the kids inside for so long. A sheriff had knocked on the door, only when he looked down did he see that some blood had actually oozed from underneath. He opened the door cautiously with his gun drawn; he too was sick at the scene for nothing like this had ever happened in the small town. There was a service for the children and for Miss Du Par, who had taken her own life with the vary blade the man had left.

Go to the fence of that orphanage now and you'll still see the sight I described; happy children, well maintained orphanage, and the air smelling of pumpkin spice. Take one step through that gate and it all changes; the building lies in disrepair, all the grass is dead, and the once pleasant air reeks of plague and filth. Some are crazy enough to wander inside the place, and if you do you'll still see the blood stains on the floor boards. Then you'll hear one soft click of the door's lock behind you and the spirit of Miss Du Par and her children will tare you to pieces; much more viciously if you're a middle-aged man.

He drank down his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table.

“Well son, that's my story, do tell the spirits I'm sorry when you visit the orphanage.” The man said to me from under the brim of his hat and left the dingy bar. I gave chase to him so that I might apprehend this criminal but as soon as I exited the man was nowhere to be seen.

“You gonna pay for that beer, son?” The bartender was behind me in the door frame. I gave him a dumfounded smile as I reached for my wallet. I handed him a five dollar bill and told him that he could keep the change.

“Did you happen to get a look at that man I was sitting next to?” I inquired.

“What man? You were sitting by yourself staring at the wall to your left all night. Couldn't get you to say a word to me after you ordered your first beer.” I peered into the bar and saw that there was no longer a whiskey glass next to my empty bottle. I gave the bartender a nod of depart and turned to walk home.

That night I had done some research and pulled up scanned articles from the Addieville Aviator. Sure enough, one of the headlines confirmed the man's story: “Gruesome Sight at Addieville Orphanage.” I read on as the articles mentioned everything the man had said to me at the bar. At the bottom of the page there was a button so see related articles and I gave it a click. This one was from the New York Times: “Charles Mansler Arrested and Charged with Addieville Murders.” I read the article to find out more about the case but this one didn't offer much. The next one, however, confirmed what I suspected: “Charles Mansler Pleads Guilty, Sentenced to Death.”

I had been listening to a ghost all that night, which in my mind meant that the story regarding the orphanage must be true as well. The next day I took a trip to Addieville, being self-employed allows you to do things such as ghost hunting. I asked one of the locals about the orphanage and they just sighed and pointed. Addieville's old dirt roads were easy enough to follow;I found myself at the gate of the orphanage after a twenty minute walk.

Pumpkin spice filled my nostrils, and my eyes were blinded by the beauty of the orphanage. Leaning on the gate, I wanted to take it all in for a minute, but the latch wasn't on so I fell into the yard. My head rose to the site of how the orphanage actually looked; time had gotten to this place and it smelled as if the bodies were still inside decaying. I stepped back out of the gate and it returned to the more pleasant view; I dare not enter the orphanage out of fear for my own life.

Remembering what the man had said made me come to a new realization, one that might be more fiction than fact. The person who had spoken to me in the bar was clearly the spirit of Charles Mansler; doomed to tell his story and relive that day as punishment for what he's done. He asked me to tell the spirits he was sorry, but I won't, because I believe doing so will release Charles from his punishment. So if you ever find yourself listening to that tale of Charles Mansler's and then paying the orphanage a visit, do me this personal favor.

Don't apologize.


Creepy, Fiction, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted, Short Story, Spirits, Spooky, Writing

Meet the author

author avatar JonMcClusk
Jonathan McCloskey is a write who's main focus is short stories and poems published online. He is currently in the process of writing his first book; details will be available as soon as possible.

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