Rating: NC17 overall.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing. Certainly not the characters or products
mentioned in this story and unfortunately, the Bee makes no profit from it.
Summary: This story is a light hearted comedy/mystery.
It is based slightly (very slightly) on the plot of the old movie
"House Of Long Shadows". It is an HUA that tells the story of a very successful
mystery writer, Alexander Harris, who is suffering from a severe case of writer's
block. Against his better judgement, he accepts a $10,000.00 bet with his
publisher after claiming he can crank out a full manuscript in a 24 hour period. This
short story is his struggle to do that and the bizarre obstacles that pop up.
Warnings: Sexual dialogue and M/M slashy acts.
As always, special thanks to the amazing Petxnd for her wonderful banners.
One hour and ten minutes later, Xander followed the electronic voice and exited
off the highway just as brain dead as when he had started out. Any attempts
to concentrate on a plot had faded as he sang along with Willey and Waylon and
before he knew it, he had arrived. He made all the correct turns through a small
town, out into the country and ended up on a small access road that was closed
off by a huge, locked iron gate with an ornate "R" guilded on the front.
Peering through the bars, he could see that the lane on the inside was an overgrown
gravel road. It was lined on both sides by huge unkempt willow trees that created
a dark canopy blocking the view and preventing anyone from knowing that there
was a house at the end of the lane.
Xander jumped out, leaving the engine running and the car door open and he fiddled
through the small set of keys Ethan had given him at the cafe, to find the one that
would release the padlock on the chain. Only then did an odd thought occur to him
and he paused and muttered.
"Waaaaait a minute. If Ethan hasn't been up here for years, why did he just happen
to have the set of keys in his pocket. I mean really, what the fuck is going on here.....
oh, that's the one"
Xander's attention returned to the success of finding the right key, popping open the old
rusty padlock and releasing the chain that held closed the gate. With a loud, creaking
metallic groan, the double doors of the gate swung wide and Xander hopped back
in his car. Now that he was here, he was certain a story idea would come to him.
Two minutes later, Xander stood by the side of his car, his mouth hung open and his eyes blinked at the speed of light as he stared at the monstrosity before him.
This just had to be a joke!
The mansion was straight out of a low budget horror film. Starting at the huge
sweeping, crumbling cement steps and ending at the peaks and points of the roof
which, of course, supported a row of snarling winged gargoyles that grinned down at
It was a style he could only describe as ' Classic Comic Goth'.
The house was at lease three stories high and curved outward on both wings. The
windows were dark and dusty black, giving the impression that there were beings, not
necessarily human, lined at each one, staring out at the hapless victim in the driveway,
bidding him come in.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
Although it was nearly 11:00 AM, the deep cover of the trees blocked nearly all
sunlight and made the surrounding woods appear to close in oppressively. Xander
shuddered and fought the overwhelming urge to toss his laptop into the back seat,
his sweet round ass into the front seat and head right back to civilization, telling
Ethan just what he could do with his Munster's family mansion.
But something stopped him. A feeling that was part resignation and part determination.
He hadn't been able to write a word in months and he was afraid his dreaded writer's
block was becoming a permanent condition. It was a prospect that tore at more
than his pocketbook, it wounded his soul. Maybe that was the real reason he accepted
this challenge. Maybe he hoped something would shake him up and inspire him, kick
start him like a Harley and break through this huge turd of a mental obstacle.
Maybe what he needed was a spooky mansion in the woods and some total peace
and quiet to get his creative juices flowing. Lord knows no other juices have flowed
So, with a sigh of resignation, Xander flipped open his cell, noting it only had two
fucking bars, and he dialed Ethan Rayne.
"Good morning. Ethan Rayne here. How may I....."
"What the fuck, Ethan?"
"Of course it's fucking Xander. Who the fuck else did you send out to Bum Fuck
Egypt? I know you said it was the family mansion, you just didn't say it was the
Adams Family mansion."
Ethan chuckled and relaxed back in his oversized leather chair.
"So, you found it with no problems? Good. Good. Well now, by my estimation it
is a little after 11 so what say we start our time now?"
Xander growled as his brain raced with objections.
"What say you bite my ass now? Hell no! Come on now Ethan, you gotta give me
time to get set up. I need to find the fucking generator, get some electric on,
clean a spot to work in and, um, check the facilities."
"Pee in the woods, Xander. The water is turned off. But, fine, I concur that it is
only fair that you have some settle in time. All right. One hour. We will start the
clock at noon and it ends at noon tomorrow. 24 hours to complete a manuscript
and 2 hours after that to return to the city and have it on my desk. Agreed?"
Xander whimpered like a trapped rat in a lab cage. This was it. His last out. He
could laugh and yell "Gotcha!" telling his friend and publisher that it was all a joke,
but then what? Go back to his apartment and sit on the couch? Watch TV all day
just to see Maury open the DNA envelopes on the latest baby daddy and later hope
to catch a glimpse of Nick Brendon on Criminal Minds?
No, he was here. He could do this. He NEEDED to do this.
"Yeah, fine. 2PM tomorrow. I'll be there. Anything else I need to know about this
fucking palatial estate of yours?"
Ethan leaned forward on his desk and he dropped his voice to a low, ominous,
"Yessssss. Beware of the wolfman. When the moon is full and the dogs howl low....."
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Ethan you prick....."
Xander snapped his phone shot, dropped it in his pocket and dashed for the door
fumbling with the keys in his hand, all the time his eyes darted around wildly half
expecting Lon Chaney to stumble out of the dim underbrush with hair on his palms
and fangs in his mouth.
Leaping the steps two at a time, Xander jabbed the key in the lock and leapt inside,
slamming the heavy wooden slab behind him. The sound echoed throughout the
vast open foyer and rang back in his ears. It sounded solid, deep and final like the lid on