Black Forest Gateau

Black Forest Gateau(Jeff Glazier) Black Forest Château By Jeff Glazier



“Pleased to meet you Herr Mӧller – my frau, Adel and daughter Sofia, and my son Niklas.” Felix Schreiber completed his introduction with the estate agent, the first time they met, deep in the Black Forest.
“Like you,” the agent admitted, after they had dispensed with the formalities, “I also feel the need to get out of the city but alas, as much of my work belongs there, I’m tied. “What is your line of business Herr Schreiber?”
“Felix, please. I own the rare bookshop in Nieuwstraat.”
“Ah yes, I think I know it.”
“I feel the city has got too big and dangerous and I want my children, and the one we’re expecting,” – Adel was obviously pregnant – “to experience country life. My wife was a Baumann, so the countryside is in her blood. And, if I was to be honest, rare books are not so popular at the moment and we’re looking for somewhere less expensive to live.”
“Well you’ve certainly come to the right place, and just look at what is offered.” They began to walk through the front door of the house. “Large living area, huge fireplace, you can see, well-equipped kitchen and most importantly,” the estate agent looked kindly at the children, “a bedroom for each of you.” They walked towards one of the large low windows. “And such a playground. Part of the forest will be yours, and there’s a large vegetable garden – sadly a little neglected.” Adel was puzzled as to why the rent was so low, the answer was evasive and more virtues of the property were extolled. And it was in very good condition, probably less than twenty years old. There was no need for any further discussion. ‘We’ll take it’ was the decision.

The Schreibers were installed in the Black Forest cottage by the end of that month, the last of the mild autumn months. They settled well, sibling rivalry parted by the large individual bedrooms. And no one complained of the forty minute journey to school each day. Adel busied herself with the kitchen garden, clearing and composting. And she had the preparation for her third child.

It was as winter began to fall that things began to change. Sofia began to have nightmares, twice she had woken screaming. On occasions she told her mother that she felt she was being watched – watched by the unseen . . . by someone invisible. Apparitions continued for several weeks and they thought perhaps they should seek some psychiatric help for the girl. She was troubled.

The drive up the steep winding road with its low fog was tricky, and darkness closed the woods swiftly every evening. The complexion of the property had changed and they began to wonder if they had made the right decision.

It was quite by chance that Felix acquired a book on the area in a lot that he had purchased at an auction. It was entitled Schwartz Taten – Dark Deeds, and it was about the myths and legends of the Black Forest. It was certainly quite an old book – but he doubted it had any real value. It was rather an austere cover depicting dark deeds. There were many references throughout the book to witchcraft, the occult, and oblique reference to devil worship. As he flicked through it, a page of images caught his eye and he started reading the story. He quickly realised by the description of its position, that the small castle written about in the story, must be close by the property they lived in.
That night he took the book home and gave it to Adel. He found the reference to the small castle in the Black Forest. Felix pointed out the rather blurred photo – it looked like a faint apparition of a little boy on an old pedal bike. He was riding it along the apex of a roof, a steep roof of what looked like the castle, set deep in the forest. Sophie was looking at the book over her mother’s shoulder.
“I’ve seen that boy Mummy, he rides on the top of our house. I saw him the other night when he rode off the roof, but just before he hit the ground he seemed to float, and never touched it. He looked at me as if to say ‘aren’t I clever?’ and his eyes were bright, almost as if they were burning.” Both Felix and Adel looked at Sophie, her eyes were strangely vacant and staring as she told the story. The wind had suddenly got up and the shutters banged to make them jump. Winter had introduced itself.

Felix left his assistant in charge and sought information on the area at the Council Offices. He was directed to the Burgermeister, who looked well past his retirement age. Felix thanked him for the impromptu meeting and explained his reason while the elderly gentleman looked at the book he had passed to him. The old man was obviously searching his mind.
“Ah yes, I do recall this story. Do you know I sometimes think that the only reason that I still have a job is because of my long life and memory. But quite why the castle was built I do not know – there are seemingly no records, and it has always been shrouded in mystery and fog, being so high in the mountains.” The old man looked into the distance. “The family descended from a long line of counts . . . Von Richtenstein’s I think, ah yes,” he located the name on the page in the book, “I’m right. They almost excluded themselves from the community. They were feared because of their power – they had a power of illusion, as it mentions in your book. It seems that they had the ability to appear and disappear just like that. It was as if they had just crept up on you. There were many stories to substantiate such incidents.”
“Maybe they were just unobtrusive, didn’t announce themselves with a song and dance?” Felix offered.
“Possibly, but people feared them, not just for what looked like witchcraft and the occult but . . . devil worship. You must have come across many books on that subject, Mr Schreiber.”
Felix nodded, “And I’m surprised that you haven’t heard of this, but then you said that you came from the North?”
“Yes, Hamburg, originally.”
“Well that explains it, no dark forests there. And really these are not the sort of stories that a place wants to boast about, best kept quiet – now where was I?”
“Devil worship.”
“Ah yes, the rumour was that they were special envoys of Lucifer – if you care to believe rumour – a sort of recruitment agency, and who better to recruit than innocent children? Strangely the foreboding castle held no fear for children, they saw it differently, in fact they seemed to be drawn to it. Naturally the children were forbidden to visit, but as you well know – you do have children Mr Schreiber?” Felix nodded, – “they will do what is forbidden. The story goes that they were lured there by our famous cake, Black Forest Gâteau, that instigated the name of the place – the Black Forest Château. And when children went missing it was always suspected that they went missing in there. That may have been a little unfair as there were many ways children could go missing. Packs of wolves roamed the forests in those days, and children could easily just wander off to be lost in the deep forests and lakes.”
“You mean they wanted a scapegoat for the lack of vigilance of their children.”
“Maybe, but more children seemed to go missing in that village than others. And it was a large village then. There was a big population of farmers, woodcutters, blacksmiths and the like. It was a self-sustaining community. Sadly no one left now, everyone lives in the cities.” The old man took a sentimental moment.
“So how many children went missing?”
“ . . . Over a period of say ten years, over twenty I believe. Naturally suspicions were translated into searches but nothing was ever found in the Château. The tipping point came when the Priest’s son disappeared. The villagers got together behind closed doors, they’d had enough and were in a merciless mood. They gathered wood and bales of straw then stacked them around the doors and windows of the building. Then doused it all in tar and paraffin. Not only were they intent on razing the castle but were not going to spare anyone inside, unless children appeared of course. The blaze was seen for miles on that dark winter’s night. The villagers had ringed the building, waiting for the occupants to flee, like rats from a threshing stack. The instructions were to shoot them like dogs. But no one came out. They stayed until dawn and sifted through the charred debris. They found nothing, no sign of death. They excavated the ground, no cellar was found, but that doesn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t one of course.”
“Where exactly is the site?” Felix asked. The old man looked quite surprised. “Oh, I thought that you knew that, the site is where the house that you live in is built. Over the years the forest reclaimed it and the site was forgotten. It was about twenty years ago when a man arrived at these offices with papers to prove that he was the owner of the smallholding that the castle was built upon. Little was known about him, but the papers were in order and he was given permission to build his house.” The old man looked uncomfortable. “He . . . er . . . didn’t live in the house though, he rented it out, first to a large, poor family. The rent was low. That first winter two of their children went missing. Then to another family, their nine-year-old son disappeared . . . then another couple suffered misfortune when one of their five children was unaccounted for. And now you . . . I think it may have been remiss of the estate agent not to have informed you of these events. But I’m sure that he would argue that there could quite easily be other explanations for the disappearances . . . the woods are deep and dangerous, and of course he has his commission to think about – business is tough at the moment as you well know. Maybe he didn’t want to cloud the issue with a little folklore. I hope that I’ve been of assistance to you.”
Felix thanked the Burgermeister for his time. The meeting had unnerved him and he felt compelled to recount some of the story to his wife. One problem was he would find it difficult to find anywhere else. Winter had set in, the bookshop was quiet. He decided to play the story down then they would put it out of their heads.

“Luca, have you been showing off to that girl again?” Luca, an impish looking boy around ten years old was grinning, but showing a little embarrassment. His guardian wasn’t berating the boy though. “She’s a pretty young thing, I like her long flaxen hair. Do you think that she’s right to join us?” The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Then don’t frighten her, you know how easily they can be frightened at first. Don’t forget you can give her a piece of gâteau – she will be impressed by that I know. Just look at this one.” She pointed to a table nearby. The dark rich chocolate appeared darker against the thick white cream, the cherries were abundant and succulent.

Adel had prepared thick vegetable soup for supper. She had also made, somewhat unsuccessfully, bread on the range. But it would be filling. It was late afternoon when the first snow had begun to fall. It had been gloomy and building all day. Adel had been anxious and as she stood by the window, she was relieved when she saw Felix’s car lights, just a faint orange glow almost blocked by thick snowflakes, weaving towards her.

Felix soon had the fire going in the hearth and closed out the night with the heavy shutters. The wind began to howl like wolves, the lights began to flicker. The paraffin lamps were at the ready as their power was often erratic.
It was nearly the time for her children to sleep. Adel approached her daughter’s closed bedroom door. She could hear her talking – she thought it must be to Niklas. But she looked in his room, he was lying on his bed listening to music from headphones. She went back and stopped at Sofia’s door. She couldn’t quite hear what she was saying . . . then there was a silence . . . then she talked some more. Adel briefly knocked then opened the door. Her daughter was quite alone. “Who were you talking to Sofia?”
“Luca, he’s . . .” Adel felt a cold draught pass by her, then saw the bedroom door close. She screamed. Felix came running down the small corridor, he too was met by a breeze of an invisible being passing him. Sofia was wide-eyed and innocent – wide vacant eyes. “He’s just a boy Mummy, he’s quite nice really, look he brought me this.” On her bedside table was an old willow pattern plate with a half-eaten slice of Black Forest Gâteau. Then the lights went out. Felix panicked.
– “Quick,” he looked at Adel, “get Niklas – we must all leave,” he grabbed Sofia and pulled her out of the room. She pulled back.
“I want to get my things.”
“No, we’ve got to get out of here now!” He pulled her into the living room, lit a little by the fire dying in the grate. Sofia pulled back, suddenly with more strength than him. He pulled again, but lost his grip and fell forward knocking over the paraffin lamp. It smashed to the floor and a snake of fluid slithered towards the fire. The fire leapt into life then threw itself around the room. The curtains caught, then the rug and table and chairs became alive with fire. He heard Adel scream, she was in the doorway holding Niklas, flames licking its frame. He grabbed her outstretched arm and they rushed to the kitchen door. It was an inferno. They were almost through when they pulled up – Niklas was screaming, his arm was being pulled by an unseen force, he was fighting against it and yanking back. With a final tug he was released and they fell out of the house into the night and the cold snow. They ran a safe distance then Felix turned to get Sofia. The house was a pyre, he couldn’t get near it. Adel was too shocked to speak. They could only watch, Felix screamed her name – that was all he could do. They stood transfixed, hoping that their daughter had somehow got out, maybe through a window. Felix paced around the house.

They were cold now. They got in the car. He started the engine, so fearful were they that they had to leave. The inferno suddenly reduced. Then they saw her – standing in front of the low window. There was a faint figure by her side, a figure of a young boy. Sofia was looking out at them, but she too was growing fainter, just her large vacant eyes now burning bright.