05 Sep Housekeeper to Hell

The following personal ad was discovered among a myriad of others on a dark web forum.  It was connected to a local string of murders by the Rochester Coast Police Department.  It is being made public at the request of the Chief of Police.  Any information pertaining to this case is greatly appreciated.

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I am seeking a full-time housekeeper to stay overnight every weekday and lock me in the basement.  No experience required.

My name is Matthew Connard, and I have lived in the town of Rochester, New York, for a lot longer than most.  Perhaps even longer than the town itself.

That’s thanks in part to my strict diet and exercise, but most of all, I owe it to my former housekeeper Bernard.

Very few people understand me the way that Bernie did, and I’m afraid now that he is gone, I’m at odds with what to do.  This has been very difficult to come to terms with, especially the manner of his passing, so even discussing the subject brings back old wounds.

Seeking the sort of companionship and mutual trust that we had is something that doesn’t come naturally to me.

When they were alive, my family was always the sort to maintain a strict balance of power over the people that we employ, and I have worked hard to break that trend.  They treated the staff like they were servants, often belittling them or sending them to other parts of the house when guests were present.

“Better to be seen and not heard; they are worse than roaches,” my father said.  He never once considered that the staff was the reason we managed to keep our secrets safe for so long.

Without going into too much detail, it was for those very reasons that my father lost his life.

Back to the topic at hand, though, I can’t honestly expect a newcomer to understand me the same way that Bernie did.  The way that we got along over the years.

As soon as a new hire arrives at my mansion, I can’t help but feel uneasy.  There will be a list of guidelines that I expect them to obey, and questioning them isn’t exactly something that I would recommend.  In order to understand fully the criteria for this job, I think it would make sense to go over these now.  I have never been one to skirt around the issues that my family faces, so let’s cut to the chase and admit that I have problems.

First and foremost is the fact that at seven o’clock sharp they are to escort me to the basement and promptly lock me in that room until morning.  There can be no room for error in this.  I will reiterate this time and time again because it is this rule that is above all others and cannot be willfully ignored.

I know that in the past, before Bernie, I have had housekeepers consider waiting until 7:30 or even barely thirteen minutes past seven.  It doesn’t matter, really.

There was even a moment where Bernard had gotten a call around 7:03, and he came into my study to find that it had already happened.  The poor man experienced severe burns and lacerations; I literally had to beg him to stay.  All of this because he failed to heed the simple instructions which I have provided.

As you can see, a single minute, perhaps even down the second, can be the difference between life or death.  I have enough scars to prove that on my body.  Bernard was actually one of the lucky ones…well, until he wasn’t.  I’m sorry, the fact that I know I am the cause of his demise sorrows me so, and it makes it difficult to focus, but I will try.

The process with which you will need to escort me is quite simple, but for the sake of clarity, I will go ahead and explain the instructions step by step.

Usually I have dinner around five-thirty; this is the perfect time to obtain my medicine and place it in my food.

I will, of course, try to persuade you to do otherwise, but you should insist and remind me that if things were different and Bernie was here, I would listen to him.  It might be better if you fool me and pretend that you did not place any medicine in the meal to begin with, although to be honest, I think my heightened sense of smell would recognize the falsehood.

Remind me that I heeded the orders when Bernard gave me the pills.

Of course, that isn’t true.  There were plenty of times that Bernard literally had to hold me down on the floor and press a knife directly against my neck to get me to take the pills.  It was grueling to endure.

Even then, there were times the medicine did not do the right thing, and I found myself having to pay him double for the nightly routine.  I can’t specify exactly why things go wrong at times; it is not something that I completely understood, to be honest.  I suppose if I did, Bernard would be alive, and I wouldn’t need to fill out this personal ad.

I wish nothing but safety and security upon anyone, especially if it is a kind soul like he was.

Bernard was patient; having been in the military for quite some time, he didn’t hesitate to tell me that he had seen some shit.  But each time things went wrong, I could tell he was leaning closer toward not wanting to be in my employ any longer.

It can push a man to the extreme dealing with what I am going through.  To put it bluntly, I undergo what some might call a transformation.

The old legends made it seem like this only happened during the full moon, but I can assure you it is a ritual I must undergo on a daily basis.  It is painful, it is visceral, and it will likely result in broken bones and torn skin on a variety of occasions.  I will not sugarcoat any of this; what happens to me will be frightening to you.  You will likely consider leaving after the first night if you even last that long.  Please note I am willing to pay extra if you have the resolve to stay.

Once I have taken my medicine, you will need to draw up a warm bath and take the dogs for their walks.  The dogs shouldn’t be anywhere near the house at night.  They aren’t safe near me, and quite frankly, neither are you.  I know I am stressing this too often, but the transformation is something that will destroy everything and everyone in this town if I am not locked away.  Too many have died because of human error in the past, and I don’t want it to happen again.

Bernard made this mistake once as well, this time having to tend to his mother.  It distracted him from his duties, and the dogs were left in the house one night.

Now he did manage to make sure that I could not leave the property.  To this day, I marvel at his ingenuity for being able to blockade the mansion.

The town was safe from my wrath that night.

The dogs were not so lucky.

I picked up their scent immediately when I changed.

Despite the fact that he had followed other instructions to the letter, the overwhelming desire to rip them limb from limb couldn’t be contained within me.  I did everything in my power to kill them.

They were strewn about in fifty different places, their organs scattered like confetti across the house, and if it hadn’t been for Bernard, I suspect it would have been even greater for the town.  The loss of life would have been tremendous.

There was another occasion where he faced me during my transformation that I need to bring to mind, because he found a way to wound me, and it may be essential for you to learn such a technique as well.

The man recounted this event, how he had to raise a pistol toward me and fire several times once I was loose from the basement.

I’m not quite sure how I managed to break free; I have often checked my restraints, and there was nothing out of the ordinary regarding them.

Bernard speculated that it might have been I was experiencing a similar event to an animal in heat and had even stronger abilities than normal.

Perhaps that is also why the gun and the bullets made of silver worked?  It is only speculation, of course.

I must warn you that even though this did prove effective, my body can heal at an alarming rate.  So it’s possible that the bullets would have no effect.

It would be worth a try, but I can make no guarantees.

With the bath out of the way, you will need to obtain my wheelchair in the second foyer; I will show you where it’s at promptly whenever you arrive.  It’s old and worn out from timeless use, but it still does the trick.

I’ve found it easier to be naked whenever preparing for the journey downstairs, and I’m afraid this is where I cannot budge.  I have soiled too many clothes and ripped apart too many suits to consider the need for such civilities any longer.

Completely naked and still wet from the bath, you will need to strap me down to the wheelchair and then take me to my study.

I love to try and look up at the stars shortly before going down below.

Bernard was always kind to offer me a towel, but honestly, it just made me become more infuriated.  Anything near to me could easily be torn apart and ruining fine linen is a practice that I hate repeating.

There may be a need for you to show extra restraint at this point because you might find me in a fit of hysterics or foaming at the mouth as the hour approaches.  In such instances, it’s better to err on the side of caution and simply escort me to the basement early.

I know you may ask yourself why not simply go to the basement even earlier, but I’m afraid that is not how the process works.  If I go too early, the change will not happen at all.  And then it could trigger more quickly under the light of the moon.

I’m afraid that I can’t completely explain how this all works even though I have lived with the curse all of my life.

All I can say for certain is moving too early will be catastrophic.

Bernard made this mistake as well, presuming that something had changed about the routine when one night he saw me convulsing.  It wasn’t typical during my transformation, so he contacted the emergency services to seek aid.

They did not ever leave the house that night.

I killed them in only a few moments.  The smell and taste of their blood satisfied me from roaming the entire countryside, but I know the experience traumatized Bernie.

In fact, that was the first time Bernard insisted that he wanted to resign from his tenure.

But I told him that he couldn’t.  Leaving me alone to my own devices would mean more people like those poor paramedics would find themselves with their skin turned inside out and their eyes gouged out.

I used their pain and suffering as an example of what could happen on a much grander scale.

I am not in control of my body.  I cannot stop myself once the change occurs.

Now, another aspect to this entire process is making sure you have the key for the basement itself.

The key to the basement can be found quite readily in my safe in the study.  I will provide the combination to you once we have succeeded in performing this task at least one night without any incidents.

You will need to barricade the door on that first night with as many pieces of furniture and items as you can find.

The reason that I do not provide the combination should be obvious; as a man of great wealth, I do not wish anyone to rob me and take advantage of me trying to starve me inside the basement once the change is over.

I remember that first night with Bernard very fondly.  I was quite certain the ordeal would make him leave immediately.

He didn’t understand anything.  Seeing my body bend over and take a new shape.  My hair bristling the way a rabid dog does.  My fingers stretched and formed paws.

I know that I am a monster, and I have even often tried to kill myself, but the blood that runs in my veins won’t simply die if I use traditional means.  Bernard even tried different methods, and none proved effective.

I remember telling him to be prepared to question God, because I became a hell beast.  That is the only way to properly explain this abomination that I transform into.

The following hours where I am in the basement will likely be the toughest for you to endure.  It’s advisable to stay near the second floor and try to make as little noise as possible.  If you remain quiet, it is likely the only harm will come to the furniture.

Bernard had once decided to listen to music, another practice I recommend you avoid.  That sort of thing only tends to cause it to become worse, and he wound up with two broken ribs and an artificial jaw.

The man had more spirit than most and told me that he didn’t want to leave as he was too fascinated with what he had seen to consider it.

It was truly a curse against God, but he desired to know more.

Over the years, I told him of how our family was originally from Eastern Europe and learned the forbidden magicks of Romani Gypsies.  Tales that some considered myths were proven true as facts before his very eyes.  He knew not to question my words based solely on the change alone.

There will also be screams, by the way; there will be noises that you have never heard before in your life.  I will beg you to let me out.  It will happen on a regular basis.  Even when I am completely transformed, it would seem that I am able to mimic my human voice and sound perfectly normal.

Do not listen.  I will stress this again.  Please ignore me.

Bernard did not do this on the night that he died.

The noises will grow louder.  You might even be tempted to leave my property.  That would be fatal to you as well, though.

The dogs don’t let anyone leave overnight, and they often will join me in the hunt.  This is why I insist on everyone staying indoors.

You can not let me out of the basement until the dawn has broken through the clouds.

On the day he died, Bernard unlocked the door to see if somehow things had changed, and I was returned to my normal self before the waking hour.

I remember seeing the terror fill his eyes as he realized this time he wouldn’t be able to survive his failure.  He was solely concerned for my well-being and had not waited long enough.

I will admit that the man fought valiantly despite his age and even got in a few good jabs.

Were it not for the strange blood that goes through my veins, I know that it would have caused lasting harm.

I know that all of this likely sounds very unsettling and perhaps upsetting to anyone that reads.

Some may even venture that these are just the ramblings of an old man.

I completely understand if you decide to reconsider the position that I am offering.  But the pay is considerable, contingent, of course, on your survival of the first night.  I will see to it that you live like a king.

I think that’s what made Bernard stay so long.

I think he was both fascinated and in need of financial assistance.

I offered him both, although this is quite useless now since there isn’t even his body to purchase a coffin for.

The taste of his organs was quite intoxicating, I must admit.

It has made me hunger for more.

This is why filling the position is imperative.

Bernard died this previous Friday, meaning that there is little time left before the change occurs.

I may be mistaken, but I believe the consumption of his body has also made it worse.  Before this occurred, it had been quite some time since I had such a satisfying meal, and I think this will only intensify during the next cycle.

I need someone soon.  By the start of the week at the latest.

If I am left to my own devices, it will be destructive not only for me but also for the entire population of Rochester.  There are approximately two thousand souls here that I could hunt and kill.  I wish I had the willpower to actually lock myself away and throw away the key.  Perhaps when you arrive, you can attempt to do that as well?

Part of me is eager to see you try.

If you can come immediately, I will meet you at the train station, and we can discuss all the finer details of this arrangement.  I will offer you food, clothing, a roof over your head and enough stories to last a lifetime.  You can say that you met a living monster.

Perhaps you will know of a means to try and kill me.  That would be of interest to me as well since I feel I am at the end of my rope.

Before we return to the mansion, I have one final request.  That we lay some flowers down at the grave I erected for Bernard.

Truthfully no man understood me as he did, and I hate that I destroyed his precious life.

Please hurry; there isn’t a moment to waste.  I can already feel the change taking over.

Yours truly – Matthew Connard

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Despite a thorough investigation of public records and police reports, no verification of any information provided in this post has been found to be factual, except, of course, the references to the murders within the area.  Police speculate that the killer may be attempting to hide their true identity by using historical information and names of deceased.