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Description
Let Him In

"Sometimes, people like to be ordered around."
He lit a candle and sipped from his wine.
"Would you not say? Otherwise they wouldn't let it happen, no?" His jovial tone was unaffected by the silence around him. Some said he liked to hear the sound of his own voice. Others believed he liked to hear the sound of people listening to it.
In his study he found all of those he invited to be present for his gathering; eleven people in total. Mihailo Chekhov and his young wife were both in attendance, along with Frederick and Lucille Bolarus. Frederick had brought a friend, a young man like himself, who went by the name of Komrad. He was said to once have been a soldier, but no one knew why he was no longer fighting. Nikolas Alder, an old man, also was present with his young and brilliant granddaughter, Lois. The host also invited two scientists, Mr. Donavich and Mr. Sadle, both who brought along their apprentices to attend with them. And then there was the host.
"Come now, family. Surely you would have something to add to this. No?" he fakely persisted. "Frederick? I know you've famously asserted your opinions before. What are your thoughts on this matter?"
"I am just a bit drowsy, sir, from this wine," Frederick insisted. "My wife and I will soon depart, I believe."
"Oh, surely you must stay a bit longer. This gathering has only just begun!" He stood and walked to his guest and filled his cup once more with his finest drink, or so it was considered. Several of the others exchanged glances but no one spoke.
"Well," the host began, sitting once more in his decorative chair, "I for one believe that if humans never liked taking orders, no one person would obey anything at any time. More wine for you, Mihailo? I can see that your cup is nearly empty."
"My husband is a doctor and shall be addressed as such," ordered the doctor's wife. She gave the host a stern look, obviously having her own thoughts of departure. His face was not amused. Silence, he could handle. Impudence he could not. A dark look to the woman, however, sufficed this time.
"Well then, Dr. Chekhov," he continued, "more wine for you?" He tapped his own glass with his index finger.
Is there something in the wine? The doctor thought. The host seemed to be pressing the drink upon his guests very actively.
"And you, Mr. Alder? Would you like some more wine? Or perhaps you, Esméo?" the host asked the doctor's wife.
"My wife is not much for much drink, and neither am I," Mihailo Chekhov insisted.
Accepting this answer, the host turned to the other man he had asked. He was an older, fragile man, once an author and now just a silence source of wisdom for the area. He raised his eyebrows in a shaky fashion and then looked to the ground. "Perhaps, perhaps just a bit more," he uttered. The host smiled and was happy to oblige.
Pouring the wine, the host raised his voice, "Now is there anyone here who has not had a taste of this delicious wine?" He addressed the entirety of his visitors. Everyone seemed to have consumed at least half a cup of wine. He debated whether or not to be satisfied with this. The apothecary had said the solution would take effect if only a sip were consumed, but he was doubtful...
"Am I too bold to inquire why you have called us here tonight, Mr. Huxley?" Mihailo spoke. "Am I the first to ask, truly?" The doctor was a man of science and full of reason while still being able to operate fully on intuition, something that made him unique as a physician. Esméo, his wife, was very similar to him.
"Please, dear friend," the host answered, "you are not too bold. And please call me Alexei. We are close enough now to be on such a basis."
"You have dodged my inquiry, Alexei."
"Mihailo, you have hardly given me time to finish speaking," he laughed.
"Alexei-"
"I have invited each of you here tonight for one reason," the host explained. "You are all of brilliant and sound mind, no? The reason is for simple discussion. Debate without anger. Logic without spite. Let us converse and grow wisdom from our teeth. Let us breed the desirable ideals of today's man and construct a brighter mind for tomorrow."
His guests did not know whether or not he was finished speaking, and so he found it natural to continue.
"I have seen this world, no. I have lived it. I know I am not the only one who sees its impurities and maliciousness. I'm sure that you have seen it, too. That is why you are here. Together-" he held out his hand, holding the bottle of wine in the clutch of his fingers, "we can take it over."
The host's eyes were dead-set on the doctor's. "Join me," he ordered, "Mihailo."
The doctor's face scrutinized the host. His eyes grew small and cynical. Esméo looked towards her husband and the rest of the guests did the same. He did not exhale until he finally decided to speak.
"No, Mr. Huxley," Mihailo Chekhov said. "I shall not be a part of whatever you are planning."
"Well," the host said, lowering his arm. "I suppose a test is necessary." He continued to look at the man opposing him, as though waiting for something to happen. He considered the things he had been told about the elixir and decided to act.
"Frederick," the host asked the man, who had finished more than a glass of wine, "tell your wife about your affair."
Mere seconds after Frederick gave his host a bewildered and shocked glance, he passed out on the floor.
"Heavens!" his wife exclaimed. "Mercy, he has been killed!"
"What have you done, you murderer!" yelled Komrad, a friend of Frederick's, as he extended his sword. "Is this wine poisoned?!"
"Put down your weapon," the host commanded. Komrad expressed a look of defiance and moments after fell to the ground himself. The wife of Frederick shrieked once more and stood. She wildly continued to scream as she scrambled about the room.
"Stop shouting, Mrs. Bolarus, please calm down," the host told her. After she could not manage to do so, she, too, fell to the ground, as dead as the rest.
"What is this madness?" the aging Mr. Alder questioned, looking back and forth from his beautiful granddaughter and the host.
"Do not question me," Alexei Huxley said, his voice sounding much louder now that Mrs. Bolarus had been silenced. "Have you not figured out what will happen if you disobey?"
"Will I die, too?" the old man asked. His question was soon answered.
"Grandfather!" Lois exclaimed as her elder's body hit the floor.
"If you know what is good for you, you shall obey me!" the host yelled. "Come stand by me, Lois!"
"I will never stand by you, you murderer!" She dropped to the floor, right next to her fallen grandfather.
"Who else shall oppose me?" the host questioned. "Who else shall test this power?"
Mr. Sadle and Mr. Aftendale, his apprentice, had quietly been inching to the door. In the hopes that their host would be too distracted by the others, Mr. Sadle reached for the doorknob.
"Stop that!" the host demanded. It was too late for the scientist, though, for the door was already opened. He died quickly, like the rest. Mr. Donavich, the other scientist, and Mr. Aftendale took the opportunity to bolt out the door. The host ran after him, shouting "Do not leave this place!" and those two men as well were soon dead.
A young man, Vincent Ahlstad the apprentice of Walter Donavich, jumped right out the study's window. Dr. Chekhov jumped from his seat to see if the man were alive, but he did not have time to fully inspect the situation.
"Well then, Mihailo," the host began, "it is just the three of us."
Esméo stood to be by her husband.
"Do you dare ask anymore bold questions? I see that you have stayed alive this long by not daring defy me," Alexei continued. "I can see that you are by far the most intelligent man here. That is why you have not perished. I was looking for you. A man like you. That was my true intention."
"What have you done?" the doctor asked, grabbing his wife around the waist protectively. The host laughed.
"Well, I see no sense in hiding it from you," he said. "An elixir I purchased for this reason. It is very rare and very dangerous. Anyone who drinks it will die if they do not obey. For some, it takes more time than others. It depends on the amount consumed. You, however, have no need to worry, for you have not been as disobedient as the others. You are a smart man."
"You are wrong, Mr. Huxley," Mihailo told him. "Do you not remember? I was the first to defy you. Before, you told me to join you."
"And what did you say?" asked the confused host.
"I said 'no.'"
The doctor collapsed on the floor. Perhaps the fact that he had consumed the least amount of wine had kept him alive considerably longer.
"Mihailo! Mihailo!" Mrs. Chekhov yelled, grabbing her husband, noticing the absence of his pulse. She heard the absence of his heartbeat. She felt the absence of his warmth.
"How could you do this?" she yelled at the host. "How could you kill so many innocent people?"
"I don't suppose you will keep this away from the authorities?" the host asked, feeling defeat and ignoring her pleas. Mrs. Chekhov gazed at him, hatred fueling the fire in her eyes. And then moments later, she was dead with her husband and the others.
"Well, then," the host said, now alone and never having felt failure in such a way. "I suppose I was wrong all along."

Description
Let Him In

"Sometimes, people like to be ordered around."
He lit a candle and sipped from his wine.
"Would you not say? Otherwise they wouldn't let it happen, no?" His jovial tone was unaffected by the silence around him. Some said he liked to hear the sound of his own voice. Others believed he liked to hear the sound of people listening to it.
In his study he found all of those he invited to be present for his gathering; eleven people in total. Mihailo Chekhov and his young wife were both in attendance, along with Frederick and Lucille Bolarus. Frederick had brought a friend, a young man like himself, who went by the name of Komrad. He was said to once have been a soldier, but no one knew why he was no longer fighting. Nikolas Alder, an old man, also was present with his young and brilliant granddaughter, Lois. The host also invited two scientists, Mr. Donavich and Mr. Sadle, both who brought along their apprentices to attend with them. And then there was the host.
"Come now, family. Surely you would have something to add to this. No?" he fakely persisted. "Frederick? I know you've famously asserted your opinions before. What are your thoughts on this matter?"
"I am just a bit drowsy, sir, from this wine," Frederick insisted. "My wife and I will soon depart, I believe."
"Oh, surely you must stay a bit longer. This gathering has only just begun!" He stood and walked to his guest and filled his cup once more with his finest drink, or so it was considered. Several of the others exchanged glances but no one spoke.
"Well," the host began, sitting once more in his decorative chair, "I for one believe that if humans never liked taking orders, no one person would obey anything at any time. More wine for you, Mihailo? I can see that your cup is nearly empty."
"My husband is a doctor and shall be addressed as such," ordered the doctor's wife. She gave the host a stern look, obviously having her own thoughts of departure. His face was not amused. Silence, he could handle. Impudence he could not. A dark look to the woman, however, sufficed this time.
"Well then, Dr. Chekhov," he continued, "more wine for you?" He tapped his own glass with his index finger.
Is there something in the wine? The doctor thought. The host seemed to be pressing the drink upon his guests very actively.
"And you, Mr. Alder? Would you like some more wine? Or perhaps you, Esméo?" the host asked the doctor's wife.
"My wife is not much for much drink, and neither am I," Mihailo Chekhov insisted.
Accepting this answer, the host turned to the other man he had asked. He was an older, fragile man, once an author and now just a silence source of wisdom for the area. He raised his eyebrows in a shaky fashion and then looked to the ground. "Perhaps, perhaps just a bit more," he uttered. The host smiled and was happy to oblige.
Pouring the wine, the host raised his voice, "Now is there anyone here who has not had a taste of this delicious wine?" He addressed the entirety of his visitors. Everyone seemed to have consumed at least half a cup of wine. He debated whether or not to be satisfied with this. The apothecary had said the solution would take effect if only a sip were consumed, but he was doubtful...
"Am I too bold to inquire why you have called us here tonight, Mr. Huxley?" Mihailo spoke. "Am I the first to ask, truly?" The doctor was a man of science and full of reason while still being able to operate fully on intuition, something that made him unique as a physician. Esméo, his wife, was very similar to him.
"Please, dear friend," the host answered, "you are not too bold. And please call me Alexei. We are close enough now to be on such a basis."
"You have dodged my inquiry, Alexei."
"Mihailo, you have hardly given me time to finish speaking," he laughed.
"Alexei-"
"I have invited each of you here tonight for one reason," the host explained. "You are all of brilliant and sound mind, no? The reason is for simple discussion. Debate without anger. Logic without spite. Let us converse and grow wisdom from our teeth. Let us breed the desirable ideals of today's man and construct a brighter mind for tomorrow."
His guests did not know whether or not he was finished speaking, and so he found it natural to continue.
"I have seen this world, no. I have lived it. I know I am not the only one who sees its impurities and maliciousness. I'm sure that you have seen it, too. That is why you are here. Together-" he held out his hand, holding the bottle of wine in the clutch of his fingers, "we can take it over."
The host's eyes were dead-set on the doctor's. "Join me," he ordered, "Mihailo."
The doctor's face scrutinized the host. His eyes grew small and cynical. Esméo looked towards her husband and the rest of the guests did the same. He did not exhale until he finally decided to speak.
"No, Mr. Huxley," Mihailo Chekhov said. "I shall not be a part of whatever you are planning."
"Well," the host said, lowering his arm. "I suppose a test is necessary." He continued to look at the man opposing him, as though waiting for something to happen. He considered the things he had been told about the elixir and decided to act.
"Frederick," the host asked the man, who had finished more than a glass of wine, "tell your wife about your affair."
Mere seconds after Frederick gave his host a bewildered and shocked glance, he passed out on the floor.
"Heavens!" his wife exclaimed. "Mercy, he has been killed!"
"What have you done, you murderer!" yelled Komrad, a friend of Frederick's, as he extended his sword. "Is this wine poisoned?!"
"Put down your weapon," the host commanded. Komrad expressed a look of defiance and moments after fell to the ground himself. The wife of Frederick shrieked once more and stood. She wildly continued to scream as she scrambled about the room.
"Stop shouting, Mrs. Bolarus, please calm down," the host told her. After she could not manage to do so, she, too, fell to the ground, as dead as the rest.
"What is this madness?" the aging Mr. Alder questioned, looking back and forth from his beautiful granddaughter and the host.
"Do not question me," Alexei Huxley said, his voice sounding much louder now that Mrs. Bolarus had been silenced. "Have you not figured out what will happen if you disobey?"
"Will I die, too?" the old man asked. His question was soon answered.
"Grandfather!" Lois exclaimed as her elder's body hit the floor.
"If you know what is good for you, you shall obey me!" the host yelled. "Come stand by me, Lois!"
"I will never stand by you, you murderer!" She dropped to the floor, right next to her fallen grandfather.
"Who else shall oppose me?" the host questioned. "Who else shall test this power?"
Mr. Sadle and Mr. Aftendale, his apprentice, had quietly been inching to the door. In the hopes that their host would be too distracted by the others, Mr. Sadle reached for the doorknob.
"Stop that!" the host demanded. It was too late for the scientist, though, for the door was already opened. He died quickly, like the rest. Mr. Donavich, the other scientist, and Mr. Aftendale took the opportunity to bolt out the door. The host ran after him, shouting "Do not leave this place!" and those two men as well were soon dead.
A young man, Vincent Ahlstad the apprentice of Walter Donavich, jumped right out the study's window. Dr. Chekhov jumped from his seat to see if the man were alive, but he did not have time to fully inspect the situation.
"Well then, Mihailo," the host began, "it is just the three of us."
Esméo stood to be by her husband.
"Do you dare ask anymore bold questions? I see that you have stayed alive this long by not daring defy me," Alexei continued. "I can see that you are by far the most intelligent man here. That is why you have not perished. I was looking for you. A man like you. That was my true intention."
"What have you done?" the doctor asked, grabbing his wife around the waist protectively. The host laughed.
"Well, I see no sense in hiding it from you," he said. "An elixir I purchased for this reason. It is very rare and very dangerous. Anyone who drinks it will die if they do not obey. For some, it takes more time than others. It depends on the amount consumed. You, however, have no need to worry, for you have not been as disobedient as the others. You are a smart man."
"You are wrong, Mr. Huxley," Mihailo told him. "Do you not remember? I was the first to defy you. Before, you told me to join you."
"And what did you say?" asked the confused host.
"I said 'no.'"
The doctor collapsed on the floor. Perhaps the fact that he had consumed the least amount of wine had kept him alive considerably longer.
"Mihailo! Mihailo!" Mrs. Chekhov yelled, grabbing her husband, noticing the absence of his pulse. She heard the absence of his heartbeat. She felt the absence of his warmth.
"How could you do this?" she yelled at the host. "How could you kill so many innocent people?"
"I don't suppose you will keep this away from the authorities?" the host asked, feeling defeat and ignoring her pleas. Mrs. Chekhov gazed at him, hatred fueling the fire in her eyes. And then moments later, she was dead with her husband and the others.
"Well, then," the host said, now alone and never having felt failure in such a way. "I suppose I was wrong all along."