The Man on the Window

"I choose my death, as I choose my life."

For love (S2,E7), Castlevania(Netflix)

Dougal Corson received a letter that, upon reading its contents, had him quit his new job and pack his things. He planned to sail West of del Norte County, towards an island located smack dab in the middle of the North Pacific Ocean. According to all sailors who had refused to take Dougal there, there was nothing North of Hawaii, where the island was supposed to be. There was no such place in the maps, and none of them had seen it in all the years they had passed through there. He managed to convince an old retired sailor to take him there though, in exchange of a good amount of money. This, Dougal thought, was but pocket change compared to the wealth he was about to inherit.

The old sailor gathered supplies for 2 months, figured if there was in fact no island in the middle of the North pacific, he could continue on until reaching Japan. If the Island did exist in a place no other experienced sailor had seen before, he would reach it in a month and didn't have to stop his travels and he could sail straight back home. In the course of this voyage, Dougal decided to tell the sailor about the reason of his travels.

He received a letter from a rich man who wished to gift all of his fortune to a lucky fellow.

The man in question, Bael Corson, owned the very island they were headed towards. He and his family before him dedicated their entire lives mining the never ending raw materials that his Island had to offer. This filled him with immense wealth, but having chosen work instead of life, he had thus neglected himself from keeping good company around.

Because of this, the man had no one to inherit his wealth to.

Bael Corson explained that he did not wish to leave his life achievements to just anybody.

He once thought he could leave it all to the people of his Island. Most of the inhabitants are descendants of workers his family had employed to work in the mines. With the passing of years, most of the people grew lazy and did not wish to mine for the family any longer. His family extended these people the kindness of staying in the island regardless. With this, the island turned into a small town in which everyone got to know everything about each other.

The people grew more ungrateful, Mr. Corson stated, since they all began to avoid his family. Very few miners remained, but even they chose not to speak to those who lived in the mansion too much. Thus, he decided none of them deserved to keep the results of any of his hard earned accomplishments.

He also considered donating all of his fortune to a good cause, but soon realized many institutions were too corrupt to trust, and it was nearly impossible to truly know what institutions weren't. So, unable to find a sure way to curate these institutions, he decided also not to leave it to charity.

Old Bael, noticing he was bound to fail regardless, decided he was going to make a sort of a competition where he would pick 1 out of 10 competitors of his choosing, so long as they met all the required criteria.

First off, the competitor in question had to share his Surname. At the end of the day, the good fortune of his family and the mansion in which they had lived for generations, belonged to a Corson. Mr Bael picked 10 men at random from different parts of the west coast who all shared his surname, and sent his letters out.

Second off, since Bael admired punctuality above all else, so the person to reach his island first would get extra points in the deliberation.

Third and lastly, Bael wanted to make sure whoever kept his wealth did not also inherit his bad fortune of not having good company. Thus, whoever won this competition, had to spend an evening with Mr Bael to demonstrate how pleasant of a company they can keep. After all, one can only keep as good a company as they can be.

The old sailor and Dougal spent the remaining of their trip talking about all the things one can do with the kind of wealth that was about to be inherited, and after 3 and a half weeks, they reached their destination.

The two men arrived at the island right at sunrise, nearly missing it among the mist. They managed to catch a few rays of sunlight hitting the side of a hill as the sun rose, which ensured their arrival. They docked the ship on a some old wood that some would hesitate to call a pier, and began unloading his luggage. Dougal promised to contact the sailor as soon as the inheritance was his so he would share part of it with him. Even though he did not plan to follow up on this promise, he thought it was a good gesture to give this man hope on a lonely trip back home.

After this, Dougal Corson was on his own.

Previously, as he read through the letter, he thought Mr. Bael Corson might be a little unreasonable to the people of the island. Short after his arrival, though, he actually began to sympathize with the old man's assertions.

He asked around for directions to the Corson manor, but everyone would turn blind eyes and deaf ears at his questions. Those of whom would answer though, would be rather callous or violent in their response. A woman even pushed him away from her bakery with a broom.

After he was pushed away by the baker though, he found a sign with the word “Corson” by the side of a dirt road that someone seemed to have ripped off a pole. He figured the only road that had no sign would lead him to the mansion. Sure enough, he reached the manor by sunset.

At first glance, the place was mistakenly described as a mansion to him. The place was a castle, an enormous structure seemingly constructed out of stone on its entirety. If it wasn't because of all the metal details around the structure itself, and the gems encrusted in every other rock, he would mistake the castle for a mountain. Surely this was a lot larger than what he had envisioned.

He pulled a bronze colored chain by the side of the door which activated a mechanism of bells that rang all through the courtyard, to the main entrance of the castle.

Not even 10 seconds after the sound reached the front door, a butler ran out to open the gate and welcome him. Dougal handed his luggage to the enthusiastic butler, and walked past him to meet the man in the wheelchair that waited by the door across the courtyard.

Dougal reached the door and greeted the old man, introducing himself. He wondered if he was the first arrival.

Bael smiled over a face as white as a sheet, and the sun painted shadows over the wrinkles on his face. He raised a trembling hand, and gestured his guest to come one in.

“You are the first one in, congratulations” whispered Bael a little loudly. The old man stopped smiling, and looked past Dougal. “Go put that luggage away, and get some supper ready, boy. My esteemed guest here must be famished, and will surely want to eat something before he goes to bed."

Dougal turned and came to the realization that the butler never moved from the spot he received him in at the gate. He seemed frozen in place, until he was yelled at ever so gently by the old man. Then he picked the luggage up and walked into the castle. As he walked past the pair standing by the door, his eyes were fixed in empty space. He seemed perplexed, as if his mind was entirely elsewhere.

The old man explained the way to the room where Dougal would spend the night. The reason he couldn't guide him to the room, he explained, is that the ramp for his wheelchair was well off the fastest route through the stairs.

He walked up the stairs, and stopped at a hallway with open windows that showed a clearer view of the immensity of the courtyard in front of the castle.

“A beautiful yard, is it not?” The wheels made no sound, and so the weary traveler was startled.

“It is. I didn't realize how big the walls and towers are when I came in.”

“Only the gate has been modernized, everything else is as it was many generations ago.” The old man spoke of times long past as if he had been there. The way tales are passed down generations can cause that effect, thought Dougal. “Come, your room is just past this corridor.”

Dougal's room was astonishing. All lamps were adorned with beautiful golden rings, with chains of diamonds. All color around the room contained no pigments whatsoever. Rather, different precious stones filled the room with all kinds of colors. The border of the walls, which were mainly made of stone, were enriched with blue saphires, while the floor seemed to be covered in bronze with detailed patterns of green emeralds. The room had but one window that led to the courtyard. Dougal rested his hands on it and inspected the view. He realized how high up his room actually was, and noted how it would have been a horror to have been the one to bring his luggage through all the flight of stairs. Praise the butler and his efforts, he thought. When looking at the frame of the window, he noticed 4 curious pictures of bronze gargoyles carved in the otherwise dull rock. The lines of the carvings were embellished with what seemed like a thin layer of bronze, while the eyes of the creatures were made of tiny red rubies. He ran his fingers through the rough edges of the drawings, wondering why such detailed carvings laid hidden on the side of the windows. If it wasn't because of the precious materials used, he'd think it was the work of some kid drawing his feared nightmares.

“Get yourself comfortable,” said Bael, who had otherwise dissipated from reality among the beauty the room contained. Dougal could not help but think of how colorless the man seemed in his chair compared all the gems and metals. “I'll be waiting downstairs so we have dinner together.”

As he headed downstairs, he found the old man sitting at the end of a long wooden dinner table. Bael definitely lived like the rich did in their movie stereotypes, thought Dougal. Bael smiled a little uncomfortably and gestured the young man to sit close to him. As he dragged his chair to sit, the old man began ringing a small golden bell furiously.

“Apologies for the poor service, my servant has trouble hearing so one has to ring this damned thing a bit more earnestly.”

“It's not a problem. What's for dinner?”

“Oh I ask of you to keep your expectations at ground level. The help around here is not much to talk about. You see, the difficulty one runs into while trying to find a good hand is insurmountable.”

At this the butler came in hurriedly carrying a metal water pitcher and what seemed like a giant crystal fishing hook. He placed in on the table and ran back up to the kitchen.

“That's a funny looking hook, what's that red stuff inside?”

“That, my dear traveler, is a mouth blown wine decanter. And it is not a fishing hook.” Bael seemed to be forcing a smile at this. “This particular design of decanter is that of a swan, with the figures of great cardinals kings in the inside. It's made to increase wine oxygenation. You'll learn of its importance over time.” Dougal felt embarrased at this, and kept his questions to a minimum from there on.

The butler came in short thereafter to serve them dinner. As he poured them wine though, their guest could not help but notice 3 figures blown in the inside of the glass. If his calculations were correct, and the old man meant each king help a position in a cardinal location, only 3 of the 4 kings the old man spoke of were drowning in wine.

As the night went on and they continued drinking, he noticed only one of the figures had a human form, though it lacked any features. The other 2 were a goat, and a dragon though both helpless at the bottom of an ocean of an alcoholic beverage. As the butler took away the decanter, though, Dougal realized the 4th king was actually at the mouth of the decanter, wine pouring out his mouth. The image of a man with bat features being taken away after serving the two men at the table their evening wine was enough for Dougal to call it a night. He excused himself and began heading to his room.

“Young Corson,” Said Bael, interrupting Dougal's pace towards his room. “The place and fortune is yours to keep. Tomorrow evening we'll make arrangements.”

“Really?” Said Dougal ecstatically.

“You have the name, kept good enough company, and arrived here in time. You meet all the requirements. Go get some rest, we'll speak of this further tomorrow.”

The following day, Dougal was awakened by the sound of the wheelchair entering his room. Bael carried a tray with him with breakfast, though he struggled to make his way in without spilling the contents of the glass and mug he carried with him. The young man stood and helped him get the tray on a small table next to the bed.

“Apologies in advance for the state of your breakfast.” Dougal had made a gesture as soon as he heard this, since he took a sip of an odorless coffee that tasted horribly sour. “My precious butler passed away last night and I am terribly useless in chores of the house. I've always been cared for, you see.”

“The butler? He seemed fine just yesterday.” “That he did, it was much of a surprise to me as well. The physician said a strange pneumonia took a hold of him overnight. Now all that's left is to wait for the other butler to arrive.”

“We had a visitor?” Dougal munched on some burnt bits of egg as he asked the question.

“You slept through the whole ordeal.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Oh thank you, child. He will surely be missed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on the clothes I left washing down at the cellar, I took the liberty of washing your clothes as I'm sure you'll need them for your trip back. I'll have a car drive you to the pier and pay for the fare of a boat to take you to California. I'm sure you'll have someone to tell news of your new fortune to.”

“Not really. I can stay a bit longer, if you need some help.”

“There's no need to bother really”

“It would be a bother, I'll help until your new butler gets here.” It's the least I can do if I'll get to keep his things after all he thought.

For the rest of the day, Dougal witnessed Bael attempt to do all sorts of tasks around his house to no avail. Dougal tried to help everytime, but the old man wanted to make an effort to be useful in the partnership they were engaging in.

That night, Dougal fell into the kind of deep sleep only a hard worked day can provide you with. He was awakened by a sound outside. When he went to the window to investigate, he once again looked down to admire the height of his room. Only, this time, he wasn't able to see the bottom of the castle. The shadows of the walls made the section right under his window to look like a bottomless pit of shadows. This, more so than the height itself, filled Dougal with a dread that made him want to go hide under his covers. One can walk away from the fear of heights by stepping away from the tall ledge; one can't walk away from a pit of bottomless shadows that fills your brain with fears that live only in your mind.

As he was stepping away from the window, he remembered why he looked out in the first place when he heard the noise again. It was the sound of the footsteps of an animal. He looked outside, and in the middle of the courtyard he saw the old man wearing nothing but his trousers. More surprisingly, Bael no longer had his wheelchair with him; he was standing in the middle of the yard. The image of a pale white ghost bathing in the light of moonlight was enough to send shivers down Dougal's spine, except the situation turned a little more sour right afterward.

Bael Corson broke the calm of the night when he started running towards the side walls of the castle. He sprinted at full force and right at the moment where he was about to hit the wall, he bounced off the ground. He would reach the top of the castle walls, and jump back down to the middle of the courtyard. Instead of falling, though, he floated his way down as if paragliding. This went on for a minute, where Bael ran up the castle walls and towers, and floated down. Dougal, on his end, stood there perplexed at what he was seeing, and even forgot to breathe at all. Upon realizing this, he exhaled.

As soon as he did, Bael stopped his game, and from the middle of the yard looked over the window of his spectator. Dougal ducked, and waited a few seconds before he inspected the courtyard again. There's no way he heard me breathe from that far, he thought. As he peaked out, the old mas still stood there, immobile; leering into the window. Once the guest peeked, the man started running in a dog-like fashion towards the window.

Dougal ran towards his bed and hid under the covers. He tried to control his breathing to better hear his surroundings, but hearing did not help much his confusion. He heard a thump in the corridor outside his room, and rapid footsteps towards the room. The steps slow to a stop at the doorstep, and despite not hearing the door open, he hears footsteps approaching the bed. The air of the room turned frigid, and Dougal could feel the man breathing against the covers, as if smelling his meal before devouring him. Be it by the cold, or by fear, the man under the covers could not stop trembling. A heavy ice cold hand interrupted his shivers, permeating the cold through the covers.

The guest gained valor, and pulled covers away to see a figure in the shadows. The decrepit old man had his hand on his shoulder, and stared at him intently from his chair.

“Just checking you were okay. You seemed to be having an unpleasant dream.” Dougal stared at the closed door behind the old man.

“Why wouldn't I be okay?”

“There are many strange creatures in these lands, I could not bear the thought of anything happening to my esteemed guest. Now be sure to close your windows at night, for a creature of the night is just as big a danger as the cold of this land. Now sleep, we have an early morning rising."

The next morning, the windows was closed shut with nails. Dougal changed into his last set of clean clothes, and went downstairs to look for the old man. He spend a good amount of time looking for him until finally he found him in the cellar struggling to get some clothes out of the clothes drying machine.

“Oh, sweet child. Good morning. Please, help me with these clothes. I burned some of my clothes yesterday as I tried to dry them. I think I got the hang of the machine now, so I washed and dried all your clothes.” Dougal helped to get the wheelchair off the way before getting the clothes off the machine. Unfortunately, Bael's clothe drying training the day before was not of any big help, and the poor traveler was left with nothing but the clothes he was wearing in that moment.

“I'm really sorry, my servants always did all of this for me before. You are welcome to help yourself with anything you might find in the house that fits you.”

Dougal looked at the old man and in 2 seconds realized none of the clothes in that man's closet would ever fit him. For the first time in his stay, he realized this man was larger than most people from where he was from. Though he was sitting and hunched all the time, the man was built like an oak. He was easily a good 7 and a half feet tall, and hands larger than Dougal's head even. How had he not realized how bulky this man was? Dougal though maybe the old man had been a sportsman in his days of youth.

Ultimately, because of Dougal's complexion he ended up helping himself with one of the seemingly million tuxedos left by the butler. There are stylish, and I'm sure he won't be missing these any time soon.

Before the young man could admire his new look any longer, he got interrupted by the old man ringing a bell incessantly. Dougal ran downstairs and found the old man sitting on the table, shaking the bell up and down with his eyes closed shut, as if he struggled to carry the bell.

“Apologies, young one. I am old now, and I am unable to raise my voice. Hence the ringing of the bell, I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” Dougal dragged out a chair and sat down.

“See, I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to help me with a pair of things today.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“My stallions need some servicing. I tried cleaning their stables but it's hard to move through the mud in these wheels.”

“I'll take care of them. What the other thing you needed help with?”

“The other is more of a mutually beneficial favor, really. I am yet to fry an egg without burning it to crisps, as I'm sure you noticed yesterday.” Dougal felt his face blushing. “As such, I was wondering if you could take care of today's breakfast.”

“Sure thing,” said the young man as he stood to make breakfast. “I got you.”

Dougal brought him food, served him tea, and sat down to enjoy his breakfast. As he took the second bite, Bael interrupted him.

“Doulos, what is this dirty water?” Mr. Corson was pointing at the mug with tea.

“Excuse me?” Dougal was more concerned with the change of name than anything else.

“This is not coffee. Why did you give me this?”

“I didn't know you didn't like tea. I figured it would be healthy for the both of us so I made a kettle.”

“Would you be so kind as to take it away? I need coffee, or else my head will hurt. I've fought many battles, child. Some of which I'm sure you have not heard of. But none of them are as difficult as having a day spent without my cup of coffee. Please?”

“I'll bring you coffee then.” Dougal went to make some coffee, and once back was interrupted on his way to sit to finish his food.

“Make sure you make haste to start the stables. The horses are outside and the sun will set before you're done with them. My dear stallions will not stand out at the mercy of the beasts, and I won't allow them to be soiled by the looks of the peasants walking back from their workday."

Something about that request sounded more like an order than anything else, but the guest was overcome by fear. Something in the eyes of that man reminded him of the strange dream he had suffered through the night prior. He felt a strange need to obey out of fear.

The stables were larger than expected, and despite hurrying as much as possible, working his way through dirt and manure really put a dent to the enthusiasm he had arrived to the island with. Never in his life had he labored in anything other than helping his father fix a thing or two, and even then his job was mostly that of a spectator or a lamp holder. After school he had spent very little time in his office job proofreading reports before he quit to engage in this voyage life presented to him.

At the arrival of dawn, the manure looked more like a work of art than an arduous and monotonous task thanks to the orange hue that the sun imbued the cart with. As Dougal took a break to admire the orange and pink of the clouds in the horizon, he saw a mother with 2 kids walk past the road in front gate of the castle. A boy and a girl were running ahead from their mother. These 3 figures walked and danced around the road like shadows playing around a fiery sky. The girl ran past the gate out of Dougal's line of sight, while the boy stopped smack dab in the middle of the gate looking into the stables. The boy waved, and Dougal could not tell if the boy was waving at him or the horses. He waved back, regardless. The mother, however, walked to the kid and covered his eyes, and hurrying their pace.

“The man of the house doesn't look too inviting,” said Dougal to himself. “Can't blame you, lady.” As he saw the silhouette of the mom fearfully taking her children away, he could not help but envy them. Mostly he envied the boy who was tempted by the beauty inside the castle, and was nevertheless carried away by his caring mother. She shielded him from the possible dangers of what lived within the castle walls. Did she, perhaps, knew something Dougal still ignored?

The sun had set, and tiny specks of the milky way laid across a gradient sky of dark blue and purple. Dougal was famished, and made his way into the dining hall only to find a little less than half of his breakfast remaining on the table. He made an attempt to search the kitchen for something more, but found all the kitchen counters and the antique refrigerator closed with giant metal locks. He walked back and proceeded to eat what little leftovers he was able to find in the cold and dirty plates.

He dragged himself to his room, unbuttoning and unraveling himself off the muddied tuxedo he had borrowed from the now deceased butler. He used a hammer he borrowed from the tool-shed at the stable to pull the nails off his room's window. The room felt like a confinement with the windows locked. Besides, if he was skip a meal he might as feast his eyes with the beauty of a night sky away from a technological civilization. He felt asleep watching dust particles dance around the glisten of the moon, spins, twirls and whirls that mocked his current state of misery.

A chilling wind cut through Dougal's bed sheets awakening him that night. After he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the night-sky peering through the window of the room, the young man could not help but to feel an uneasiness that would not allow him to get off his bed. He could not particularly pin point what made the atmosphere feel as heavy as it did, nor could he tell if there was any real reason to begin with. He had just awakened after all, it would not be unnatural to be slightly disoriented from his sleep. When he tried to push the feeling away and get up from bed however, he saw it.

Bathed under the gleam of moonlight, a shadow glared at the man in bed. What little features Dougal could make from this silhouette rendered him paralyzed. It was squatting upon the frame of the window, perched to the frame by a pair of massive eagle-like feet. A pair of bat-like ears protruded from the shadow, made insignificant in contrast to the eland horns it possessed. A pair of rubies the creature had in place of eyes laid fixed upon Dougal, a predator observing his prey laying in bed. A misty cloud was summoned in front of this shadow every time he exhaled, the only evidence of life the statue presented.

The guest laid there in silence, making out the image of the shadow that stood there, trying to make out its features and intentions.

The hellish gargoyle in turn, merely stared back. A fragment of an unknown abyss, staring into Dougal's eyes, a demonic breathe menacingly making his presence known.

He watched this figure until his eyelids felt too heavy to maintain the staring battle. Fear could not keep him awake forever, although his sleep would be just as restless.

The following day, the esteemed guest is awaken the the sound of a tiny bell. He got dressed in another one of the butler's attire, and made his way down to the sound of the old man's bell.

“My dear child, I hope your night was restful.” Bael gave him a genuinely kind smile. “Now, go on and make us breakfast. No man should ever have his first meal of the day all in the lonesome.”

“Anything in particular you'd like to eat, sir?”

“Oh just about anything you are able to make would be fine. Do me a favor, though. Open up the drapes behind me, it's cold in here and I'd like to at least have the back of my neck drape in sunlight.”

Dougal did as he was told and left to make breakfast. Once he served the food, and sat down, he felt a familiar uneasiness in the room. He looked up at the old man and saw in his place a morphed silhouette of the man against the rays of sun. A faint glint of red in Bael's fixed stare and the visible mist of his breath in the chilling room made for an environment unsettling enough to leave more than half his food on the table. He had business to attend to, after all. The stables needed to be cleaned.

“Done already, child?” asked Bael with a small tilt of his head and an odd smile.

“Got things to do.” Said Dougal placing his plate closer to the old man.

“Do me a favor and after the stables, get the courtyard cleared up. If there's time after, the walls and towers around it need to be properly sanded and cleaned.”

“Isn't that a lot?”

“Not quite so, it will build you a good habit of caring for the castle once it's your own.

This routine of half eaten meals, and tasking labors went on for a few months. The old man explained the difficulty of finding proper help.

“The people of this town find me a difficult man to work for, they say.” Dougal sympathized with that thought. “The way I see it is that they're all too lazy and incompetent to even do half of the required tasks in here. The generation that now live in this island are ungrateful to all the things we've done for them over all these years.”

“Where was your past butler from?”

“Not from around here. I often seek servitude in foreign lands, where the peasants are easier to come by and deal with. They're just as lazy and useless,” the old man pointed Dougal with his chin as he said this. “But they're the only ones that accept the job after some proper negotiation.”

“When's the new butler going to arrive? I have family I have to visit back at home.”

“He should be arriving a few days from now. Don't be impatient and make haste to get the chores done.”

And sure enough, some days after this conversation, a man arrived at the gate of the castle. This man rung the bells that Dougal had once rung around a lifetime ago.

Dougal felt his imprisonment over, and rushes to the front gate to meet the new butler.

He ran down the large flight of stars as a child in Christmas, his gift awaiting at the front of the castle gates.

When he arrived at the door to greet the young man, who stood admiring the enormity of the castle.

"This is a castle, it's no mansion!" exclaimed the young man.

“It sure is,” responded Dougal. “And it's quite difficult to maintain.”

“I bet it is!”

“Welcome,” shouts the old man behind Dougal.

At this, the man hands Dougal his luggage.

“You are the first one in, congratulations” whispered Bael a little loudly. Dougal noticed a spine-chilling familiarity in the old man's welcoming tone. “Go put that luggage away, and get some supper ready, boy. My esteemed guest here must be famished, and will surely want to eat something before he goes to bed."

Dougal Corson, our guest in his butler's attire, walked away perplexed at the realization of his role to play in the castle. He dared not anger the silhouette at the edge of the moonlit window, so he went to have supper ready for the new guest and his master.