1 Steele / Flawed

2 Steele / Flawed

The following short story, “Flawed,” appears in the collection

Fragments Of Ruin by Brian Fatah Steele.

That collection is dedicated to

his grandmother, Mary Betteridge.

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 3 Steele / Flawed

October, 1998

If you are reading this, the first question you may ask yourself is
“Why is this written on various sheets of colored construction paper?” I
apologize, but it was the only thing I had available. Fortunately it has
always been a habit of mine to carry about my person an ink pen of some
sort, or you may have found this note scribbled in crayon.
At the moment I am barricaded inside my niece’s bedroom while my
eldest brother prowls the outside corridor like a modern day “Cain,” ready to
strike me down. I do not know how many of my other family members are
still alive. It really doesn’t matter, I suppose. None of us are fit to return to
the outer world now.
I leave this as a warning to others who may take up residence in this
house, for I do believe in was the house that drove us to this state. Perhaps
someone will find this letter early enough and see the signs. I can only hope
that they will not only remove themselves and their loved ones from this
infernal structure, but burn it down as they flee.

It started not long ago...

My father, Roger Gastlin, had finally retired as principal from West

Essex High School after quite a number of years. He had been an English
teacher before his promotion, a job role I myself had followed him into at a
neighboring school. Once he had left the school, he and my mother
Margaret sought to find a smaller house, perhaps one along the lake. After
searching for a few months they came across a beautiful estate for a
ridiculously low price. Although there were some slight repairs that needed
done, my father always considered himself a bit of a handyman and they
were ecstatic about the new home.
My three brothers and I didn’t hear much from our parents after they
moved in and we assumed they were busy adjusting to their new life as
senior citizens. A few weeks went by before I received a call from my
youngest sibling, Jonathan. It would seem that our parents were suppose to
have come to retrieve him for the weekend from his college and had not
done so. Worried, I phoned them, only to have my mother answer the phone
gruffly. The conversation did not go well and she hung up on me. My
 4 Steele / Flawed

eldest brother Bryce fetched Jonathan and took him back to his home for that
weekend.
I had lunch with my other brother Neil a few days later and he
confided in me that he had tried to ring up our parents multiple times. Each
time he had been met with either scorn by my mother or by indifference by
my father. He was concerned, as he knew Jonathan was. I have to admit, it
was my own idea that we sons should all make a trek out to see them the
following weekend. I did not expect Bryce to bring his wife and daughter,
nor Neil to bring his fiancée. It was I who damned my entire family...
We all met at Bryce’s and drove out in two cars. Our parents lived
only about forty-five minutes away from West Essex, near Constantine
Lake. I was delighted at first to spend time with my beautiful niece, Emily.
At five years old, she was as precocious as any of the Gastlin boys had been
at her age. I had often teased my older brother that he was being rewarded
for years of tormenting our poor parents with such a wonderfully
mischievous child. He rarely argued. Bryce’s wife Amanda and I were
friendly enough, but I felt that she had often made things overly difficult for
him. Their relationship had been rocky and most of the siblings had been
quietly surprised the marriage had lasted this long.
Neil and his fiancée Rachel came in their car with Jonathan. Unlike
Amanda, I considered Rachel like a sister. She and Neil had been together
since early in their college careers and both had taken positions as
Undergrad faculty at Franklin State University. Sadly, Jonathan had had a
brief affair with Rachel’s little sister that ended badly, leaving a gap between
the two.
Slightly less than an hour later we pulled through the small gates that
lead up to my parent’s new home. I couldn’t believe the size and
magnificence of the home they had managed to purchase for so small a
figure. A three story building, it jutted out with two immense wings from a
rounded center structure. This was not a summer cottage, this was a
mansion. It appeared my father had achieved little in the way of repairs so
far, but that did not dissuade my marvel at the home.
The cars pulled around the drive way and came to a stop directly
before the front porch. Wrought iron pillars held up a solid balcony to the
second floor, vines of an unnamed kind wrapped all throughout the flaking
black metal. Patches of moss grew up haphazardly all along the first floor
exterior wall of the graying brick and one of the white wooden shutters hung
loosely from its post.
As we all climbed out of our vehicles, still in awe, the double front
doors slammed opened and my mother stormed out. She was dressed in blue
 5 Steele / Flawed

slacks and a flower print blouse, both hung somewhat awkwardly on her
frame. In was obvious she had lost a good deal of weight in the last month
and her hair had been pulled back severely in a tight bun. She tilted her head
back and looked down at all of us. We were quite stunned for the moment,
but just as Jonathan was about to say something, she spun on her heels and
returned inside, leaving the front door open.
Looking at one another with many a raised eyebrow, we gathered our
minor things and headed inside. The foyer was gigantic, with stair leading
off on both sides and wide duel corridors in front of us. The effect was
somewhat dampened by the boxes of my parent’s thing still cluttering up the
room, however. Why, after all this time, they still hadn’t got to unpacking
everything weighed heavily on me as Jonathan called out into the house.
My mother appeared out of one of the corridors and promptly
admonished Jonathan in a loud voice that there would be no screaming
within her house. As Neil began to come to his little brother’s defense she
shot a finger up and told him, in a voice dripping with venom, that her rules
still applied no matter what the roof, no matter what our age.
Needless to say, we were shocked. My mother had been a bit
overbearing in our early days, before she had grown at ease with her age and
started taking medication for various aches and pains. Regardless, we had
never seen her act like this. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bryce,
the most argumentative of the four boys, getting ready to lash out verbally at
her. Stepping forward, I asked as politely as I could to the whereabouts of
our father. Our mother sneered and flipped her hand dismissively towards
the left corridor as she stomped to the stairs.
Glancing at Bryce, he nodded in agreement and we all proceeded
down the hall to find him.
The corridor itself has beautiful natural wood paneling, and I knew
that Bryce was itching to examine it. His time as a contract woodworker
may not have brought him in riches, but it made him happy. He was lagging
behind as the rest of us moved into a library. The dismay we had felt upon
seeing our mother did not prepare us for our father.
When we had last seen him, he had been a strong and fit man of sixty-
six. He now appeared feeble and withered, what little hair he had left had
turned white. Sitting back in a beaten up out recliner with a blanket over his
legs, he smiled at us. Rachel couldn't hold back a sob and Amanda clutched
for Bryce. Poor Emily didn’t even recognize her grandfather. Jonathan and
I scrambled to his side, asking about him. He had a far away look in his
eyes, but managed to concentrate enough to look at me and say “Aaron,”
while patting Jonathan's hand tenderly. He said he was very tired and
 6 Steele / Flawed

needed to rest. We backed slowly out of the library and returned to the wide
hallway.
There we discussed what we had witnessed so far. At the time, we
assumed that our father had taken ill and the stress of this had broken our
mother. Why they had neglected to inform us, we couldn’t deduce. No
longer young children, we felt we had the right to know if our father was
sick or dying. Bryce suggested confronting our mother, but Rachel pointed
out that in her state, she might forbid us to see him again and force us to
leave. How were we to aid him then? We all agreed to stay the weekend as
planned, taking in as much information as possible, then regroup as a family
come Sunday evening at Bryce and Amanda’s home to figure out our next
move.
That, of course, never happened...
That Friday evening progressed normally enough, I suppose. My
mother wandered the house, rarely speaking to us unless to snap a judgment
or speak ill. Father never left the chair in the library, although we peeked in
on him constantly. We explored the house and found that perhaps only three
fourth of our parent’s belongings had been unpacked. The home itself was
huge and we all joined in a friendly squabble about what wings we were
going to take for the night. Much of the house was still lushly furnished,
and I began to wonder just how my parents had afforded this place. Why it
had been so cheap? Bryce, a fan of horror related movie and books, told me
because it was obviously haunted. As I write this, I wonder how right he
could have been.
We had pizza delivered that Friday evening and although our mother
screeched not to get any messes on the floor, father seemed mildly thrilled at
such a delicious treat. I could tell Bryce was getting irritated with out
mother’s attitude, but Amanda was doing her best to soothe him. Rachel
was playing happily with Emily while Neil looked on with a certain gleam in
his eyes. Jonathan and I spoke of his schooling. Eventually the five year old
started to wear out and her parents decided to put her to bed in a room
adjacent to theirs. The rest of us decided to stay up a bit longer.
After a few more hours had passed, we all decided to call it a night. I
must have taken a wrong turn or something, because I ended up on the
second floor left wing instead of the right wing where I had chosen to bunk
down. Chuckling to myself, I prepared to turn when I heard a moan. I crept
further down the hall, when the moan started yelling out words that I won’t
repeat here. It was Amanda. It would seem she and Bryce had not simply
gone to sleep. I found their actions a bit odd, considering the circumstances,
but shrugged and made my way back to my room.
 7 Steele / Flawed

It wasn’t until Sunday that I noticed the changes, but as I look back
now, I realize that they began on Saturday. That morning when I came
down to find the kitchen, Amanda and Bryce were already making coffee.
Amanda had on a robe that was draped open a bit more than should have
been appropriate. Bryce didn’t seem to notice or care, but I did my best to
advert my eyes. When I asked about Emily, he grumbled something
pertaining to Rachel. I must admit, I didn’t think much of the behavior at
the time, nor of the fact that Neil didn’t appear until around noon.
Most of the day went along well. We checked in on our Father, who
after we had hassled to bed last night, had promptly returned to his chair in
the library. Bryce seemed to be in a bad mood, although Amanda seemed
more pleasant than usual. He was only brought out of his scowling when
Jonathan told some particularly disgusting jokes he had heard recently. Neil
roamed the house and Rachel worked Emily into such an excited frenzy that
afternoon, she had to be put down for a nap.
We had all discussed going out for dinner on Saturday the previous
evening, but come the time, no one wanted to be bothered leaving. We
raided our parent’s fridge and found enough supplies to make dinner for
everyone. Of course, when mother saw us in the kitchen, she threw a fit.
Jonathan laughed at her and Bryce told her quite bluntly to leave. Eyes
wide, she shook a finger at all of us threateningly and marched out. We ate
a bizarre meal, concocted of various items and everyone sat around the diner
table in a relatively good mood. Even Bryce had perked up a bit.
That night when Amanda and Bryce excused themselves to put Emily
to bed I wasn’t surprised. What I was surprised by, was how exhausted I
was. I had done practically nothing all day, but my desire to sleep seemed
overwhelming. I dragged myself to bed and was out as I hit the pillow.
The next day, it was noon before I crawled out from under the covers.
As I was coming down the steps, I found Rachel calling out for Neil.
Asking me if I had seen my brother, I told her that I had just woken up.
Throwing her hands in the air in exaggerated exasperation, she stormed off.
Unconcerned, I strolled into the kitchen. This time I was greeted by the
sight of Amanda in a robe that was fully undone, her sheer bra and panties
exposed.
I know I should have turned away and walked out. I should not have
looked. The thing was, I didn’t even care. Amanda was a beautiful young
women, Bryce had married well, but I didn’t feel the least bit of a stirring. I
remember thinking this was strange as I watched her pour herself a cup of
coffee. She asked me if I wanted to sit, and I responded by asking about
Emily. Amanda shrugged. I wandered out of the kitchen.
 8 Steele / Flawed

Aimlessly, I maneuvered my way through the house. Eventually I

found myself in the library. My Father was smiling up at me. I sat down on
the floor beside him and leaned my head against his chair. He mumbled
something that vaguely sounded like “I love you, Aaron.” I closed my eyes
and fell back asleep.
Darkness. When I woke, it was dark. No one had turned the lights on
that day in the library and father was sitting in the dark, me slumbering on
the floor beside him. I got to my feet and asked if he was okay. I could see
him nod in the growing twilight, so I made my way out to the wide corridor.
I blinked in the light as I came into the foyer and call out for anyone.
Nothing. I walked into the kitchen to find it empty. Shuffling back to the
foyer, I glanced out to make sure the cars were still here. They were. I
realized it almost didn’t matter.
Taking the right corridor, I went down to the sitting room. I stood
there blankly for a minute taking in the scene before me. Emily was running
around in circles making the sounds of a train, oblivious to the fact that
Jonathan was laughing at Rachel, who lay on the couch weeping.
Eventually, my brother noticed me standing there and he pointed at me,
giggling. Jonathan told me how he had been informing his soon-to-be sister
in law how HER little sister, his ex, had cheated on him multiple times. He
appeared deliriously happy at the result this had on Rachel. I took it all in
mutely. When Emily made another pass around the room near me, I reached
out to stop her. She snapped at me, her teeth biting only inches away from
my hands. I leaned back and let her go on her way.
I asked about Emily’s parents and of Neil. Jonathan just laughed and
said big brother Bryce was probably still fucking his wife. Rachel pulled her
face away from the couch cushion long enough to wail that she had only
seen Neil briefly that day. And our mother? Rachel was once again sobbing
and Jonathan merely shrugged. I nodded and left.
I had made it most of the way back down the hall when I had to stop
and rest. Again, I was wiped out, as if the basic of actions had taken the
most strenuous toll on me. Trying to keep my eyes open, I felt an arm go
around my mid-section and help me along. I know at some point I glanced
up to see it was Neil. I may have murmured my thanks to him, but I
honestly do not recall. He got me to a bedroom and laid me down.
As Neil began to close the door on me, I do remember calling out his
name. He came to my bedside and I asked him what was wrong with me,
what was happening. I remember him saying that he was searching for
something, that he thought he could fix things. He said we would never
leave this house if he didn’t make things right. Neil, the associate history
 9 Steele / Flawed

professor, said he would save us as he gripped my arm then left me to my

dreams.
I never saw my little brother again.
Whenever I woke up the next day, it was daylight. I had left my
watch on my nightstand in my room the day previous. It took all my energy
to pull myself from the bed and into the hall. By the time I started moving, I
felt better. I was aware that it was Monday and I was supposed to be
teaching at school, but for some reason, this didn’t really bother me. I was
mildly concerned for my father, but even that sensation seemed distant and
faint. Regardless, I decided to check in on him, leaning against the walls
most of the way.
Along the way I ran into Jonathan. He told me everyone was sitting
down for dinner and that he was just coming to fetch me. Although I must
admit I found this somewhat suspicious, and I don’t know why, I didn’t care.
He led me to the diner room, and sure enough, everyone was present, except
for Neil. I thought to comment on this, but before I could, my mother
started screaming.
Like she had come out of trance, she had looked around the room at
her gathered family and their state and found it lacking. Father sat at the
head of the table drooling down his chin, Bryce beside him with arms folded
tightly. Amanda was curled up on a chair beside Bryce in only her sheer
undergarments, her robe now fully discarded. Beside my mother was an
empty chair, presumable for me, then one for Neil. Then sat Rachel, who
rocked back and forth, tears streaming down her face. At the other end of
the table, Emily had her face buried in a pile of mashed potatoes, an empty
seat to her left for Jonathan.
Our mother began howling, swearing at each of us, calling out our
flaws and faults. She banged her fists on the table to punctuate her words,
cursing us as failures in her eyes. There was such hate and rage in her voice,
such utter contempt.
Each of us took it differently. I slumped down to the floor, impassive,
while Jonathan cackled at her display. Neither Amanda nor her daughter
seemed to care, the first too busy rubbing her husband’s arm, the child too
busy gorging herself. Rachel wept harder as my father just bobbed his head
and smiled. But Bryce, oh but Bryce...
He grew more and more tense, visibly shaking, until he finally
reached out and grasped one of the glass goblets that had wine in it. Hurling
the wine at my mother’s face, in the same motion he brought the top of the
glass down against the tabletop shattering it into a jagged shard. We were
all stunned into silence, all but mother who continued her stream of
 10 Steele / Flawed

obscenities, now directed fully at Bryce. Then, with a scream of defiance,

Bryce lunged across the table and shoved the glass shard straight into our
mother’s throat.
Before I passed out once more, I heard Rachel scream over Jonathan
maniacal laughter.
I have no idea how long I was out that time, perhaps a few hours,
maybe a day and a half. When I woke up, it was because something was
rubbing against my mouth. I opened my lips slightly and something was
shoved to my teeth. It was a nipple. I opened my eyes to see Amanda
straddling me nude. She was grinding her hips into me, the moistness
between her spread legs already working into the thin cotton fabric of my
pajamas.
Through the haze in my brain, I knew this was wrong. Strangely yet,
I wasn’t even remotely turned on. I managed to get my hand up to her chest
and push her away. She called me a faggot and sauntered from the room.
Lying there propped up against the wall, I rolled my head over to see to
body of my mother. It was gone. Bryce must have removed the evidence of
his madness.
The more I thought upon it, the more I realized the truth behind that
statement. We had all walked through the doors to this house and gone mad.
And yet, each of us had somehow been afflicted in a different manner. Each
effect had been specific, been personal, as if...
I heard the giggling and shifted my head over to see Jonathan
squatting in the corner of the dining room, defecating into a pile, his face
covered in blood. I wearily asked him whose blood he had smeared on
himself and why, not bothering to ask the reason he was shitting next to the
diner table. With a big grin, he told me it belonged to Rachel, that he had
convinced Bryce that she had been on Mother’s side. I believed I raised an
eyebrow in confusion. Jonathan replied that he had said it to Bryce so that
he would kill her so the bitch would stop crying. I shook my head. As his
giggling commenced, he said that he couldn’t wait to see what would happen
when he told our eldest brother that his wife had been trying to fuck me. I
tried to voice my objection, but Jonathan just wiped his ass with his hand,
smeared the shit on the wall and left.
Knowing my time was limited, especially with my uncontrollable
onsets of slumber, I forced myself out into the house. Although the thought
of my family falling apart didn’t really matter to me at the time, I had
enough in me for self-preservation. Commanding as much will power as I
could, I formulated a plan. Emily’s room had been chosen for it contained
 11 Steele / Flawed

bunk beds. If I could just make it there and move the furniture, perhaps I
could wait out the ensuing insanity. Perhaps I could survive.
And survive I have, I suppose. Not for much longer, however. I
made it to Emily’s room and immediately fell asleep. It was only by pure
luck and Bryce’s madness that I wasn’t found before I woke and could move
the bunk beds. Next time I awoke, it was to Jonathan’s screams, so I assume
my eldest sibling turned on him. I have no idea if Amanda or my father are
still alive, but two days ago I saw Emily running on all fours outside the
window, her clothes in tatters.
I have no food and I’ve been disposing of my waste in one of the
closets since this window refuses to open. Whenever I’m conscious, I write
what I can down before falling prey to my flaw of apathy. That’s what it is,
you see. This house brought out all of our darker aspects, our most subtle of
faults. It latched on to them, so deeply buried but so deeply a part of us and
brought them to the surface. It’s the only thing I can deduce and I’ve had
the time to think about it, locked away here in my niece’s former bedroom.
I’m just glad that the fool English teacher in me always kept a pen
handy and that my brother and sister-in-law promoted Emily’s love of art.
But it’s all coming to an end now. My bouts of slumber are getting more
frequent, and during my times awake, I’ve heard Bryce smashing through
rooms about the house. It’s only a matter of time before I no longer wake or
he simply finds me.
Really, I don’t much care. Although there is a small part of me inside
that I think grieves for my father, wherever he may be. And Neil, I wonder
what happened to Neil...

The Lake Constantine Police Force are still investigating the

disappearance of the entire Gastlin family, their bodies never found. The
letter written by Aaron Gastlin was found by Samuel Nevelson, age 8, in
August of 2006 underneath the bunkbeds of his new bedroom. He placed it
on top of his dresser and forgot to give it to his parents in the excitement of
moving in.

Copyright © 2010 by Brian Fatah Steele