That was the last entry. As I closed the book, a strange feeling came over me. For a fraction of a second I felt as if I were in a free fall. I staggered backwards a step or two, coming to my senses. As I went through the rest of the house, I made my decision. This house was far to big for me to live in alone, I didn't want to sell it or knock it down, so I decided that I would renovate it, and turn it into a hotel. I made my way to the large staircase and walked downstairs. Heading back through the main hallway, I returned to the foyer. I wanted to rest for a few minutes, so I walked over to the settee, put the duffel bag on the floor and sat down. I must've been more tired than I realized because I started to doze off. Eventually I fell asleep and had a disturbing dream. It was simple but terrifying, It was the portrait of Ezra I saw in the dream. I watched it for a few seconds then the eyes began to glow. I couldn't move or turn my head. Then there was a loud sound of a heart beating, coming out of the portrait. The 'THUD-DUM' sound grew louder and louder. Suddenly I woke up with half a scream in my lungs. Quickly I grabbed my bag, went outside and locked the door behind me.


        As I drove back to my hotel room, I tried to remember a story I might have been told about Ezra Briar and his gypsy wife. Anything that came to mind was too vague to recall exactly. Although one of my earliest memories was of my great-grandfather, their son, Charles. I remembered him sitting in a reclining chair, silent as a statue, watching TV. I'm pretty sure that it was my grandfather's house. The other lights in the room were off, and his features were wrinkled and leathery. In the artificial glow of the TV he looked somewhat sinister, with a disgruntled expression on his face. He then picked up his cane and pointed it at me. The worn rubber base was less than an inch from my face. Then he said: "You're not like the rest of us. You're different. You have no idea what's out there and you never will, You're just too damned ignorant." After that he removed the cane, set it on the floor and turned his attention back to the TV.

        That was all I remembered about the man. To this day I had no idea what he meant. Did it have something to do with the entry in that old book? All I had known about Charles Briar, was that he was a mean, grumpy old man. My parents never spoke of him, probably with good reason. Considering if he was that mean to a small child, what was he like to the rest of the family?

        I stopped at a diner down the street from the hotel I was staying at. A small 'greasy-spoon' on the edge of town. I walked in and took a seat at the counter. After ordering my food, the waitress poured me a cup of coffee and asked if I was new in town. I smiled and explained that I had just driven in from Philadelphia, and was the new owner of the Briar estate. "You mean that run down old mansion up the highway?" she asked. "Yes." I replied "My name's Joseph Briar."

        "Really?" she asked "So you probably know all the stories about the first owner. His name was Eddie or something like that."
        "His name was Ezra. Ezra Briar, and that pretty much all I know about him." I said. The waitress who had to be in her early sixties, with a new perm that cover up her age and wrinkles that gave it away, smiled and said "Well in that case, I go on break soon, so after you eat I'll catch you up on some local spook stories." I agreed. After finishing my steak and potatoes, which was the biggest meal I had in a few days, I sat with the waitress, who introduced herself as Sue, at a corner table. She began to tell me a tale that's been part of this town for nearly a hundred years.

        It began on a cold October night, the moon was full and the sky was clear. A lost businessman came upon the mansion. He pounded on the front door but there was no answer. As he looked around, he saw light coming out of the basement window. He crept up to it and peered in. The scene he saw down there sent him insane. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, three miles into town and straight to the police station. He told the sheriff of a demonic ritual in the Briar Mansion. A ritual which was composed of thirty or so cultists standing around a pool of water that was set into the floor. The water glowed green as if illuminated from the bottom by some unearthly force. The ring of cultists was overlooked by Ezra, Romana, and young Charles standing in front of an altar. The cultists began to chant, and walk around the pool. Then they withdrew daggers from under their robes and proceeded to stab themselves and leap into the pool one by one. The green water rapidly turned red. The three Briars chanted the same unearthly prayer, but did not move from the altar. The bodies quickly sank, as if pulled in. After the Briars stopped chanting, the water in the pool began to boil. Then something rose from out of the water. As the businessman was about to describe what came out to the sheriff, he let out a scream, fell to the floor, and started to have convulsions. The sheriff quickly called for an ambulance. After a day of shaking, and foaming at the mouth, he was committed, and spent the last thirty years of his life straight-jacketed in a cold room, screaming in terror when he saw the full moon. After telling me all this, Sue quickly added "Of course no one seriously believes it these days."

        I sat across from her shocked, and staring in disbelief. It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts. Finally I said "That's unbelievable. Do you think it's true?"
        "Nah." she said "People have tried to prove it's true. But no one can find a record or something about this businessman. Not even a name. What do you think?"
        "I got this terrible feeling that it is true." I answered. The waitress laughed "Don't worry yourself about it too much sweetie." she said "We got a bunch of stories like that in this town. Supposedly, there's a troll living under the library. If you start believing all the stories you here in this town, you'll be convinced that Elvis Presley lives down the street."

        I grinned and thanked her for at least giving me a good story. I then paid my bill, tipped Sue generously, and headed back to my room at the hotel. When I got to my room, the sun had just set. I looked out of the window and saw the full moon. Something about it made me shiver.

        I slept peacefully that night, and after breakfast I headed back to the mansion. In the daylight it looked like a rather pleasant place. I opened the front door and saw a few mice scurry away to their homes behind the walls. I figured it would cost a fortune to turn this dilapidated mansion into a modern hotel. Walking into the main hallway I stopped at the portrait of Ezra Briar. I stared at it, waiting for anything to happen like in the dream the day before. Nothing happened, no glowing eyes, no sound of a heartbeat, nothing. Grinning, I lightly flicked at the nose in Ezra's portrait. "Who's afraid of big bad Ezra?" I said aloud to no one. I headed into the kitchen, where there was an old stovepipe oven, a sink with a hand pump, and a dusty worn table. Stairs going down to the basement were in the corner. This reminded me of the supposed ceremony in the waitresses' story. On the wall by the stairs was an antiquated light switch. I flipped the switch and looked down the stairs. All that could be seen was the stone wall and the bottom of the stairs. Light came from within the cellar. I reluctantly walked down, images from the story popped in my head. I anticipated seeing a great altar and a pool set in the stone floor, like in the story. But when I reached bottom, all I found was a bare stonewalled room with storage crates scattered in piles. I put my fears away an looked for a crowbar to open the crates with. Finding one in a dusty corner, I opened the nearest crate. In it I found old bedclothes and linen. In the next crate were tools. I eventually opened all the crates but found nothing of interest. There were only ordinary household items in the crates. The last crate was sitting in a corner next to a supporting wooden column. When I pried the lid open, I dropped the crowbar behind the crate. I heaved, and pulled the crate out of the way. It was extremely heavy, being filled with more tools. I found that the crowbar had fallen into a hole in the masonry at the bottom of the wall. Kneeling down, I retrieved the crowbar. More masonry came loose and fell into the hole. I listened to it fall. It seemed to tumble down a long way, and it's faint echoes seemed to resonate even farther away.
        Taking the crowbar, I knocked away more of the crumbling wall to see how big this hole was. More and more masonry fell until the hole was big enough for me to walk into. I had found a hidden passageway. Rummaging through the crate filled with tools, I found an old oil lamp. I took my cigarette lighter out of my pocket and lit the wick of the lamp. I was a bit surprised when it caught flame. Who knows how long it had been in that crate. I shone the light down the passageway. The end, if there was one, was too far down to see from here. Silently I walked through the hole in the wall.

        It was a cavern dug into the earth. The walls of dirt and rock were kept from caving in by wooden beams placed about every fifteen feet or so. The cavern was wide enough for two men to walk abreast. It seemed to slant gently downwards. When I had gone down about one hundred yards, I was able to make out something blocking the path. Looking back, I could see the distant light coming down from the cellar above. I began to feel as if I was leaving my world, and entering some distant land. As I walked further, I was able to make out what was blocking the path. It was a rock. A rock at the end of a tunnel, two hundred yards from the basement wall. By this distance I had to be a good quarter mile underground. The temperature was rising the farther down I went. I rushed up to the rock, and discovered that it was the entrance to what could be a tomb. It was intricately carved with an inscription that read: