13 Hauntings

by Clarice Black

  The ghost’s hand reached out and plunged itself into Bryce’s midsection. The ghost’s touch was colder than ice. Bryce’s torso felt impossibly cold. He struggled to stay focused, to stay awake. He had a hammer, one that could do serious damage to a person, presuming that he was dealing with a person at all.

  He had time enough to swing once more. He could hardly breathe otherwise. He was certain that he would die if he didn’t do something. His mind registered his wife scream in terror, yet that didn’t seem quite real to him. He felt sleepy, so sleepy. He just wanted to lay down and rest for a while. There was no need to do anything. Someone would come eventually, he was certain. He could just rest…

  With his eyes half-open, he managed to throw the hammer through the ghost’s midsection. The cold hand withdrew from his body. Bryce fell to his knees, gasping. The ghost vanished suddenly. The house was still and quiet once it left, as though it had never been there in the first place.

  Sheila was at his side within moments. She said, “Bryce, Bryce, are you okay? Dear God, what happened to you?”

  “Bloody thing is a Dementor.”

  Sheila patted him on the shoulder. That was probably all she could think to do to try and help him. She said, “A what? What is that?”

  “When that ghost, whatever it is, touched me, I got really cold. Felt like it was taking all the happiness out of my life.”

  Michael said, “Bloody hell. It really touched you? That thing? It’s not just a projection?”

  Bryce managed to stand up. He said, “No, it’s real. I don’t know whether it has trapped us inside, but it’s definitely real. If it comes close to you, run. That’s all we can do for now.”

  Geoffrey appeared none the worse for wear after his fall. He said, “I don’t believe what I’m seeing. This isn’t possible. It’s not happening.”

  Bryce looked the old historian square in the eye. He said, “You can believe what you want, but you’ll be dead all the same if you get too close. We have to find some way out of here. Is there a basement, a crawl space, anything?”

  Geoffrey wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He said, “I don’t know. I think, perhaps, there might have been…”

  “This brew witch, whoever she was, she would have needed a place to store her kegs and such when she wasn’t using them, wouldn’t she? She couldn’t leave them outside. They’d be stolen. They’d take up too much space inside the house. I didn’t see anything that looked like a warehouse when I came in here.”

  Geoffrey said, “That’s an excellent point. Let’s look around and see if we can’t find anything. I suspect we-”

  Before he could finish his sentence, the ghost appeared before him. Bryce noticed a yellow discoloration on the floor. He hadn’t given it any thought until a human-like shape rose up from within it. Geoffrey clutched at his chest, then fell backwards. Bryce and Michael ran to him at once. The old guy looked like he had been scared into a heart attack; Bryce desperately hoped that this wasn’t true.

  Michael said, “You’ve got to move, she’s right behind you!”

  Geoffrey managed to say, “Oh, I’m all right. It’s just, oh dear…”

  Together, Michael and Bryce managed to pull up the old historian while the ghost continued to advance in its slow way. Somehow, Sheila managed to find a hatch that led down to a hidden basement. She had kicked away a rug to reveal it. She pulled open the hatch, then held her nose.

  She said, “Ugh, what died down there? Horrible.”

  Michael said, “You better hope there’s a path that leads to the outside down there. If there’s not, we’re just going to trap ourselves with her in there. Are you sure about this?”

  Bryce hauled Geoffrey to the ladder that led downward into a dark, unknown area. He said, “You go first. Go on, take it easy. Michael, I’m not sure about anything. I don’t know why this is happening or what we can do about it. I just know that we can’t stand around here playing tag for hours on end. She’ll get us eventually. It’s like you said. We have to get out of here.”

  While the historian descended the ladder, Michael said, “I guess it’s all we can do for now. He’s definitely not in any kind of shape to try a jump from a second-story window.”

  Geoffrey retorted. “I’m fine and dandy, thank you! I just had a bit of a….a bit of a fright. I shall be myself momentarily.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Six

  The basement was dark until Sheila turned on the flashlight function of her cell phone. Then, Bryce made out the silhouettes of several barrels lined up against the wall. He stood on a cracked stone floor. He had an idea of how much effort and money stone-masonry took at the beginning of the 17th century; he was surprised that a brewer could afford to have stone laid down. The stone itself was cobbled, as a street might have been in that day. The basement struck him as odd and improbable.

  The house above them creaked again. Everyone froze. They all knew what it meant. Bryce guessed that the house and the ghost were two separate entities, perhaps working at cross-purposes. The house wanted them to stay. The ghost wanted them to leave. As strange as it was to think of a house as having a conscious will, that was the only explanation that made any sense to him.

  Sheila said, “Look at these barrels. How long do you think they have been here?”

  Michael said, “Honestly, I wasn’t aware of a basement before this. I guess nobody bothered to check under the rug.”

  “Hmm yeah, there was a lot of dust.”

  Michael took out his own phone and turned it into a flashlight as well. He waved it around, looking for a ghost. When he didn’t see one, he said, “Let’s stay together and try to find an exit. Did anyone bring that hammer?”

  Bryce realized that he had been in such a hurry to get away from the ghost that he had completely forgotten about the hammer. He said, “I left it up there. Seems like it maintain its form when an object passes through its body. Careful not to get touched by it if you see it. Her, I guess. I don’t know. Let’s just get out of here.”

  Geoffrey said, “As a matter of fact, I always knew about the basement. I wrote a report detailing the property, what it contained, and how much it was worth. Did you not read that report? It was there on the third page, as I recall.”

  Michael said, “You mean the part about ‘sundry unspecified goods’? I thought that referred to all items not explicitly listed in the report.”

  “Yes, that’s the one. This referred to the beer kegs and stones down here. Of course, you are the first people to see this in quite some time. Mind your head, if you please. Some of the beams hang low.”

  Bryce wasn’t tall enough that he needed to lower his head down, though Michael was. Bryce decided to walk to every wall and see what was there. Unless the exit was another hatch in the floor, which he very much doubted, he should be able to find a way out. That was all he wanted, at this point. He didn’t care what was going on in the house. He just didn’t want to have any part of it any longer. There were other places for him to establish a business; nothing as unique as the brew witch’s house in Cirencester, yet good enough for the purposes of making a profit. He started to think that he had pushed too hard, tried to make something work that wasn’t going to work no matter what he had to say about it.

  Of course, if someone had told him what he would face in the house before he entered it, he would have laughed out loud. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Everything that he thought he had known was suddenly turned on its head. He had been so sure, so certain that he either knew or could discover everything about the world, given enough time. What he saw, what he experienced for himself, told a different story.

  The ceiling groaned above them. Bryce paused, bracing for the worst. The groan lasted so long that he interpreted it as a message from the house, a way of speaking. It seemed to him that every wooden board, every stone, and every beam conspired against him.

  Sheila said, “Are we going to g
et out of here alive?”

  Bryce reached out for her hand. Instead, he grabbed her wrist. That was all right, for the moment. He said, “I know you’re afraid. I am too. Gosh, we all are. What we’ve seen today, it shouldn’t be possible, but it is. I don’t know how either of you two could have mucked this up so badly-”

  Michael broke in, “I assure you, I had no idea that any of this was going on before-”

  Geoffrey raised his voice as well. He said, “Young man, don’t you dare accuse me of that which I’m not responsible-”

  “-I got set up; all the paperwork. This is completely unacceptable, and inappropriate, and it won’t stand.”

  “-because I had nothing to do with it. This is a childish, grade-school prank thought up by the most insipid, vapid intelligence. I won’t hear you slander my good name by saying that I’m responsible.”

  Bryce held up his hands. He said, “Simmer down, gentlemen. The fact is, your being experts on this property without having foreknowledge of the haunting is a bit problematic. What I was going to say is that if we do get out of here, you’ll have to speak with the police. I don’t reckon they’ll be as kind as I’ve been.”

  Neither Michael nor Geoffrey had a response to that. Bryce tried to follow the lights of the phones to see if anything glinted. He squinted, letting his eyes adjust. It wasn’t long before he saw a short set of stairs ahead of him and to the right.

  He pointed to the stairs. He said, “There’s the way out.”

  Both Michael and Sheila focused their light on the stairs. Geoffrey said, “Oh thank goodness, if I have to spend another minute in here, I think I shall go mad.”

  The ladder creaked behind him. He didn’t want to look; he was afraid of what he might see. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but turn his head. There, floating down through the closed hatch, down the ladder without even grasping the rungs. The ghost of Isobel Gilmartin was still there, still looking as threatening as ever. The scythe she carried had grown larger.

  Sheila said, “Bloody flux. She’s still there. We’ve got to leave!”

  Bryce didn’t think twice. He dashed straight towards the exit. He collided with Michael. They both went sprawling to the cobblestones. Bryce struck his head on the stone. He saw stars for a moment. All of the sudden, he had trouble focusing. He could hardly move. His fingers tingled. He tried rolling over on his stomach, though he wasn’t sure if he managed it. He saw that Michael got up quicker than he did, but not quick enough.

  Time slowed down for a moment. He could see everything that happened. Geoffrey’s mouth opened wide with horror. He made a terrible, awful sound. Bryce knew that the old man could sense his death coming. The ghost raised her scythe. The insects in her eye socket shone with a deadly, preternatural light. There was a brief, harsh cackle that seemed to come from all around him. Bryce raised his hand, trying to reach, trying to stop the ghost. She was at least ten paces away from him.

  Geoffrey put up his hands in an attempt to defend himself. The scythe cut them clean off at the wrists. His hands fell down to his chest before the scythe passed through his neck. His head fell off as well. Since his head weighed more than his hands, his head hit the ground first. It collided against the cobblestone with a sickening thud. His hands fell next, the ring on his ring finger falling off. It clattered about, then came to rest as blood pooled around it.

  Bryce had just enough time to open his mouth to shout. The shout came out from his stomach. He cried out, “No! Geoffrey!”

  Geoffrey’s headless body fell forward. His knees hit the ground first. Then his chest struck with a horrible finality.

  The ghost snarled out, “Vengeance…”

  Sheila grabbed him by the arm, pulled him up. She said, “Bryce, get up! Mother of God, you’ve got to get up!”

  Time had returned to normal, though he wasn’t sure when that had happened. His shoulder hurt. His knees hurt. He got to his knees. He heard a rattling from somewhere. Michael was fooling around with a mechanism to open a door to the outside.

  He cursed at the door and said, “This just won’t open.”

  Geoffrey’s blood dripped off the scythe’s blade. The ghost advanced with a faster pace now, the remnants of its face betraying its excitement.

  Bryce said to himself, “This is crazy. I can’t believe this. This isn’t... what is even happening here. This is crazy.”

  Sheila slapped him across the face. She said, “Crazy or not, we have to get out of here.”

  The ghost reached out a hand, trying to grab Bryce by the throat. Bryce’s hands contracted into fists, trying to grab something he could use to strike back. There was nothing available but air.

  The door burst open suddenly. Light poured in from everywhere. Michael said, “It’s open! Both of you, get out of here!”

  Bryce didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed behind Michael, Sheila right next to him. The ghost’s fingers reached after him. He tripped over the top stair, then fell forward into the sunlight. He had no awareness of what happened next until Sheila touched his chest to make sure that he was still alive.

  He said, “What happened? Did we make it?”

  Sheila had a worried, concerned look on her face. She let out several heavy breaths before she was able to respond. Michael was sprawled out on the ground, looking up at the sky. She said, “I think we made it. She’s turned her back to us. It’s like we don’t even exist anymore for her.”

  Bryce could see that this was true. Instead of a scythe, the ghost now held a broom. Though Geoffrey’s body still lay on the cobblestone and still oozed his life's blood, the ghost was no longer interested in anything. It floated there, oblivious to the rest of the world.

  He said, “What’s going on here?”

  Sheila bit her bottom lip. Her eyes were red and swollen with tears. She said, “I don’t know. Geoffrey died. He was such a sweet old man. That ghost is still in there. It wants to kill us.”

  “And now that he’s gone, we can no longer depend on him for advice.”

  Michael managed to sit up. He said, “What- what are you saying?”

  Bryce had to think about his response before he uttered it. He said, “This ghost, I guess we have to call it that now, can’t be stopped by conventional means. Bullets won’t stop it. You saw how that hammer passed right through its body. Then it came back again. We need to try something else.”

  Sheila wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She said, “Why do we need to do anything? Can’t we just have the house condemned?”

  Michael said, “I guess I could do that, but...with Geoffrey dead, there’s going to be a police investigation. Someone’s going to miss him. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “So what are we supposed to do? How does a person deal with a ghost? We’re not ghostbusters. We don’t have backpacks full of electrified plasma or whatever. Why can’t we just leave it alone?”

  Bryce decided to answer. He said, “For a long time, I thought that nothing of the supernatural was real. Now I see that it is. If ghosts are real, maybe psychics are too. Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, invisible men, the boogie monster, Bigfoot, all of it. Maybe it’s all real.”

  Sheila said, “I sure hope that it isn’t. I don’t think I could live in a world where I’d always have to look over my shoulder, never knowing what will happen next.”

  “Up until now, we’ve been fine. I understand your fear. It’s just beside the point. Since we have a lingering spirit on our hands, we need someone who can talk to spirits. We need to communicate and find out what her problem is.”

  Michael sat up. He said, “You’re talking about a medium. A person who can contact spirits from beyond.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. Do you know of any?”

  “There is one I can think of. I don’t know if you’ll like her. But...good lord, are we really going to do this?”

  Bryce said, “You want there to be more victims here? I just told you the police can’t deal with it. They’ll be slaughtered. The
n after that happens, they’ll decide to bulldoze the place to the ground rather than try to deal with something they don’t understand.”

  Michael gave a sobered, measured response, “Yes...that’s probably true, isn’t it? What will we say when we get questioned by the police?”

  “We’ll tell them the truth. They won’t believe us, but they won’t have any evidence to suggest otherwise. Now, where is the medium that you know of?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Seven

  Bryce’s hands shook while he tried to follow Michael to the medium’s place of business. Someone had died right in front of him. A real, living person had been decapitated. Once the adrenaline in his body subsided, he was left with a hollow anxiety that he couldn’t get rid of. He was sure that he would be next. As soon as he stepped into the house, the brew witch would have him. What was more, he could feel her calling to him, calling him back. She wanted him in particular for a reason he could not fathom. She did have a chance to kill him before; she hadn’t taken it. Why hadn’t she taken it? There was something there, something unusual that he wasn’t seeing.

  The center of town in Cirencester consisted of buildings scrunched up against one another, so that they were hardly distinguishable from one another except by their colour paint. The streets were narrow, with hardly any parking spots to be had anywhere. Bryce parked as close as he could to the house with the sign of a purple rose.

  As before, he would have preferred to leave at once. He wasn’t sure what impulse had impelled him to speak up and say that they had to do something about it. He wasn’t certain that bulldozing the house was a bad idea. After what he had just been through, the best idea would be to simply just call the police, wash his hands of the whole affair, and just let events play themselves out. Nothing good had come of his involvement. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it occurred to him that he might just make everything worse.