The Suffering

Synopsis: Property appraiser Henry Dawles must fight for his sanity when he finds himself trapped on a rural farm owned by mysterious caretaker, Mr. Remiel. As the threat to Henry escalates, he is forced to face the horror of the farm and uncover the dark mysteries of Remiel, and the sinister beings he encounters.
105 min

(eerie music)

(high pitched noise)

- [Woman] I love you, Henry.


(car horn beeping)

- Mr. Dawles?

- I'm Henry Dawles.

- I'm an associate

of Mr. Remiel.

Please, get in.

(pensive piano music)

Mr. Remiel's very appreciative

of you coming on

such short notice.

We do hope it wasn't

too much of an inconvenience.

- Oh, not at all.

To be honest, I needed the work.

It hasn't really

been easy to come by.

- Ah.

Well, then I hope

this is the first step

toward reversing your fortune.

- Yeah, me, too.

My wife and I, we're

expecting a kid.

- Congratulations, Mr. Dawles.

- Thank you.

- Is this your first?

- Yes, it is.

- Might I ask,

boy or girl?

- We actually don't know.

- Ah.

Another surprise.

How delightful.

(metal creaking)

Don't worry, Mr. Dawles.

This bridge has

proven quite reliable.

(phone ringing)

- [Recording] We're

sorry, your call

did not go through.

- I wouldn't fidget

with that too much,

Mr. Dawles, service

out here can be scarce.

- Great.

My wife's gonna think

I left for good.

- I'm sure she'll understand.

- I don't think so.

- Ah.


here we are.

It's a beautiful

structure, isn't it?

- Late 18th century?

- Precisely.

Word to the wise, Mr. Dawles,

Mr. Remiel can be a

rather demanding soul.

Just do ask he asks

and I promise you

the compensation can

be quite generous.

- Let me give you

a little something.

- No need for

gratuity, Mr. Dawles.

It's all been taken care of.

- Thank you.

When can we expect you back?

- Hmm.

Well, that is entirely

up to you, Mr. Dawles.

Oh, uh, yes.

Have a good stay.



- May I help you?

- I'm Henry Dawles.

Here to appraise the estate.

- Mr. Remiel has

put you in the north

end of the house,

overlooking the pond.

Once you've settled,

you're to join him

for a nightcap in the library.

This will be your room.

You'll find the bathroom at

the far end of the hall.

- It's wonderful, thank you.

(classical organ music)

- It is widely believed

that Bach died from

complications of eye surgery.

An infection festered

when a traveling

oculist attempted

to remove cataracts

from his eyes.

The procedure failed mightily

and within four months,

Bach was dead.

The greatest composer the world

has ever known

chose to fight his blind fate

rather than accept it.

Pride was his undoing.

- I'm not proud, but I am happy

and happiness blinds, I think,

more than pride.

- Alexandre Dumas.

- The Count of Monte Cristo.

My wife made me read it.

- Smart woman.

- You have no idea.

- Mr. Dawles, I presume.

- Please, call me Henry.

- Come, Henry,

join me by the fire.

I hope your journey

wasn't too uncomfortable.

- Oh no, not at all.

- Would you care to join me for

an evening spirit?

- Yes, I would love to.

Thank you.

- Thank you, Mrs. Gates.


- Cheers.

You've got a

beautiful home here.

- Thank you.

Sadly, I'm the last

of a dying breed.

I fear once I'm gone,

the estate will follow suit.

- No family?

- My late wife was

unable to bear children.

Adoption was always

a conversation,

rather than reality.

- I apologize if I'm

overstepping my bounds,

but without a

beneficiary, why bother

with the appraisal?

- Curiosity, I suppose.

Even I don't know

everything about this place.

Then again,

maybe I just wanted the company.

- Well then,

to paid company.

- To you, Henry.

My old body is

begging for some rest.

Feel free to look around

the place, if you like.

I'll see you in the

morning for breakfast.

Goodnight, Henry.

- Goodnight.

(soft motor sounds)


(tinkling music)

(clock chiming)



- Mr. Dawles.

The attic is very

dangerous at night.

May I suggest you

wait 'til morning?

- Of course.

- Good evening, Mr. Dawles.

(clock ticking)

(groans softly)


- Back there, about 300 yards,

my mother built herself a little

home away from home.

We lovingly refer

to it as a madhouse.

A small cottage where she could

cool the daily agitations

that my father presented her.

You see, my father

was a drinker.

My mother was a Methodist.


- Well, my parents

divorced when I was 15.

Maybe your mother

was on to something.

- Maybe she was.

Maybe she was.

The house has been vacant

for over two decades.

Due to my declining health,

I haven't seen it

nearly that long.

(breathing heavily)

Would you mind

taking a few pictures

to share with me

at dinner tonight?

- Yeah, whatever you need.

- Thank you.

Holler if you need anything.

(slow piano music)

(music tinkling)

- No way.

Not bad.

(insects buzzing)

Holy sh*t!

- I'm sad to say,

he is not the first that we've

dealt with over the years.

Transients, drifters,

even fugitives

have sought asylum in our woods.

Property this large

lends itself to stowaways.

Did you find anything

else on the body?

Any sort of identification?

- No, I didn't look.

Legally, I shouldn't have

even touched the note.

- What a sin.

To give up on life so easily.

- Well, we should

call the police.

- I'll take care of

that, Mr. Dawles.

I'll see that the body

is properly disposed of.

- Disposed of?

- Poor choice of words.

A proper burial, of course.

I do hope you'll stay

and finish the appraisal.

I'm prepared to

offer you greater pay

to compensate for

today's unpleasantries.

- I don't think that

would be appropriate.

- $5,000.

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Robert Hamilton

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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