The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors

by Jeff DeGordick

  Karen was standing at a huge old stove in the kitchen. She dumped the contents of the pan onto a plate and put the pan back on the gas range. "Morning, sleepy heads! Hungry?"

  "Mmm, smells good," Bridgette said. "Feeling better, hon?"

  "Worlds," Karen replied. "I don't know what got into me last night; I just got spooked.

  "I picked this bacon up at the store yesterday. I thought it might've been a little rancid, but it smells okay."

  Billy and Trevor were already standing around, each holding a plate and digging in.

  "Where's Janet?" Karen asked.

  "She'll be down in a minute," Bridgette said.

  A while later, she came down and joined them, and they all ate the breakfast in the large kitchen.

  "What do we do if that guy shows up unexpectedly?" Billy asked.

  Trevor chewed some eggs then swallowed them. He shrugged. "He'll probably call first if he needs anything. But it's a big place. If you hear the doors open and you know it's not one of us, I'm sure there are tons of places to hide. Just don't make a sound and I'll take care of him."

  "And you're sure those things aren't on?" Karen asked, pointing a fork up at a surveillance camera perched in the corner of the kitchen.

  "Scout's honor," Trevor replied, holding a hand over his chest. He glanced through the doorway at a window in the hall overlooking the bay. The sky was a clear and cloudless blue, and the water sparkled in the sun. "Weather's nice today. After we eat, I'm going to take the boat out to get a preliminary look and see if I can't figure out where this treasure is. Anyone who wants to come with me is welcome to."

  Bridgette eagerly signed up, as did Karen and Billy. Janet declined and Dawson stayed quiet. He studied his girlfriend silently. He didn't like any of this, and he didn't want her going out with Trevor. But he knew the importance of good timing, and now wasn't the time.

  Billy left the keys to his van on the kitchen counter in case Janet needed them, then he followed Trevor, Bridgette and Karen as they left the mansion. Dawson sauntered out too, lagging behind. Trevor pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and made sure it was charged in case he received any unexpected calls. When they snaked their way around the mansion to the grounds at the back overlooking the bayou, they spotted a flat patch of land enclosed by a short stone fence all around. A narrow path extended from an opening in the fence up to three headstones. Bridgette wandered over to them, intrigued.

  Two of the headstones stood side-by-side in the center. The slightly taller of the two read: Jacob Jasper – 1666 - 1765. The other said: Apolline Jasper – 1674 - 1748. The third headstone that was shorter than the other two stood on the other side of Jacob, and it read: John Jasper – 1696 - 1783. The way that the headstones were situated with the two tallest in the middle and one off to the side made it seem like one was missing from the other end.

  "This must be his family," Bridgette muttered. She took a step closer, her fingers tracing a phrase below the years on Jacob Jasper's stone.

  "Ad infinitum," Billy read. "That means 'to infinity'."

  "And beyond," Trevor said. "Can we get moving? Daylight's burning."

  "An eternity," Bridgette said. "An appropriate phrase for his legacy."

  They turned away from the gravesite and started down the hill where Trevor had tied up the boat.

  Dawson quickly worked his way up to Bridgette and silently grabbed her by the arm. The others walked ahead and didn't notice.

  She stopped and looked at him with concern. "What's up, babe?"

  Dawson sighed. "Look, sweetie, I don't really think it's a good idea for you to go out there."

  "Well I do," she said and she turned and tried to pull away from him.

  He held her in place. "Okay, I'll rephrase that. I don't want you going out there. Not with him."

  "Baby, what's the problem? You're not going to dredge the past up again, are you? Is that what this is about?"

  "No," he said. He let go of her arm. "I mean, I don't know. Don't go, Bridgette. Not this time. Let him live out his fantasy and watch as he comes back with nothing."

  "And what if he finds something?" she asked with a defiant look.

  He lifted his shoulders and met her gaze. "If he finds something, then we'll all go and check it out."

  Bridgette glanced at the others as they traced the winding path below. They finally stopped and looked back, realizing she'd lagged behind.

  "Are you coming?" Trevor asked.

  Bridgette considered for a moment. She wasn't happy about it, but she said, "No, not this time. We'll catch up with you guys when you get back."

  Billy and Karen shrugged and continued on. But Trevor smirked before he turned. Dawson knew what that look meant, and anger bubbled in his gut. "I'm going back inside," he told Bridgette. "Don't stray too far, okay?" He gave her a peck on the cheek and marched off before his face reddened too much.

  Bridgette watched the three of them climb into the boat at the base of the hill. A pang of jealousy hit her in the gut; she wanted to join them and go out on the water, but she knew Dawson would throw a fit, as ridiculous as that was.

  She gazed at the scenery all around her from her high vantage point and something caught her eye. She recognized the dilapidated and creepy store they'd gone to and the row of shabby houses next to it far down in the distance. And sitting on the porch in his rocking chair was Boomer. He was looking at her.

  Bridgette ran back into the mansion, crossing the hall and entering the kitchen. She grabbed Billy's car keys from the counter and trotted out to the van in the parking lot. She started it and tried to remember the route as she pulled onto the narrow road. There was something about the old man sitting on his porch that captivated her. She wanted to know more about his strange warning about this place.

  Dirt kicked up from the road and drifted in the open window, making her cough. She rolled up the window by hand and stopped the van in front of the old man's house. When she got out, he looked at her just like he'd always been expecting her to come.

  "Why did you tell us to stay away from the museum?" she asked.

  Boomer gently rocked back and forth. A soft breeze passed over the porch, and the cicadas chirped noisily in the background.

  "Ain't no place for nobody," he said. "Especially someone as sweet as you, young miss."

  She studied him. "It's just a museum," she countered. "What could possibly be bad about it?"

  Boomer stopped rocking for a moment and motioned to a cracked plastic patio chair next to him.

  Bridgette was apprehensive at first, but she took a seat. The wood sagged under her as she stepped onto the porch and sat down. It felt so old that she thought she would fall through it. A spider scurried out from underneath her armrest and crawled away along a strand of webbing fastened to the awning. She folded her hands in her lap and perched herself on the edge of the chair.

  "Got a lotta history there," Boomer said.

  "What kind of history?"

  His eyes narrowed. The pleasant look on his face had vanished. "Murder," he said. "Whole lotta folks were killed there."

  Bridgette's eyes widened. "It's real," she uttered, like she couldn't believe he confirmed it. "We heard about that. There was a story on some old website, but there weren't many details."

  "You're darn right it's real," Boomer croaked. "Know folks 'round here who seen it with their own eyes."

  "Really? Do you know who they are? Can I talk to them?"

  Boomer stretched back in his chair, his pleasant smile returning to his face. "Oh, they're all old and shriveled or gone by now. That all happened a long time ago. Looong time ago."

  "How long?" Bridgette pressed.

  "Be a hundred years ago this Sunday. Long as I live, I could never forget that day." He stared past her at the blue sky. There was a twinkling in his eye that she couldn't place.

  "A hundred years?" Bridgette said. "That must have been before your time."

  Boomer smiled a big toothy grin, all of his natura
l ones still there. "'Fraid not. I pushed past a hundred a few years ago myself."

  "You're kidding!" Bridgette said. "You seriously don't look a day over eighty-five!"

  "Kind of you to say, miss. I can still get up and move around on my own, too. The missus, unfortunately, has been passed on for quite some time now." He glanced over his shoulder at the door to the run-down shack he called home with something mournful in his eyes.

  "So... what happened?" Bridgette asked, unconsciously drawing closer to him. "About the murders, I mean. What do you know about them?"

  "Don't like to think too much about it," he said. "Nasty history, that. Bunch of visitors to ol' Jasper got cut up some. Happened right in the middle of the day. No one knows who did it; not a one survived. Except a little boy. But he said he didn't see nothing. Just scared, I imagine. Some folks say the stone walls of that place just done up and swallowed them all. May as well have, far as the result.

  "And all them years later, the police never solved the case. They cleaned up the mess and tried to forget it ever happened. Been haunted ever since. Folks who go up there see things once in a while. Strange sounds, maybe a curtain blowing that shouldn't. People say they've seen worse than that. Probably a whole lot worse up there than that, I suspect. My advice to you is to run away from that place and never come back."

  Bridgette sat like a statue in her chair. She didn't know what to say.

  "Promise me at least you'll take this," he said, reaching into his shirt pocket. He pulled out a short stick of tarnished silver, as thin as a pen. Dried and frayed reeds were wrapped around it and fished through a small hole in either end. And tied around the reeds was an old snakeskin.

  It looked as hideous as it was peculiar. "What is it?" Bridgette asked.

  "Ol' Jasper's been quiet for a long time now. Maybe you won't get bit. Then again, maybe you will." He handed it to her.

  "Oh, I couldn't do that," Bridgette said, waving him off.

  "I insist, young lady."

  "No, really. How long have you had that thing? I couldn't."

  Boomer just rattled his fist clutching the odd trinket.

  She saw that he was dead certain. "Well, if you really think so. But why?"

  "It's an old snake charm," he said, letting her take it from his hand. "It's for protection."

  "From snakes?" Bridgette asked. "Are there really that many in the area?"

  He rocked in his chair. "Not all snakes crawl on the ground. Remember that."

  Bridgette stared from him to the charm in her hand. It felt heavier than it should have, like all the years he had it added to its weight. The coolness of the silver sent a shiver through her hand and up her arm. Suddenly the sweltering Louisiana heat felt a little colder.

  Shadows in the Night

  Bridgette closed the thick outer door of the mansion behind her and slipped the snake charm Boomer had given her into her pocket.

  "There you are!" Dawson said. He strode across the hall toward her. "Where were you?"

  Bridgette, startled by his sudden presence, turned to him and tried not to fumble over her words. "Um, I was just out wandering around the gardens."

  Dawson looked pained, like she had just slapped him. "No you weren't, baby. I saw the van was gone. Do you know I was worried sick about you? I didn't know where you were, I didn't know if you were safe." His face softened now that he saw she was okay, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. He didn't want to be angry with her; he was just worried.

  She appreciated this, but she didn't like how smothering he could be at times. It felt like wearing a collar 24/7, like he would yank on the leash and she would have to bark and sit at attention. She pulled away from him a little. "You know you don't have to lord over me all day, every day, right? I know you're my boyfriend and my rock, but it's just a little smothering sometimes."

  Dawson took a step back and gave her a little space. He studied her carefully, slipping his hand into his pocket and touching the engagement ring that had still been waiting for his proposal since they got there. He'd been thinking all morning how to do it, trying to come up with some magical way that was enough to sway her. But with her rushing off to who knows where, it distracted him and made it hard to think straight. He jumped when she touched his arm.

  "Maybe we should just have a little bit more space from each other while we're here," she suggested.

  "What does that mean?"

  Bridgette sighed. "I don't know," she said, starting to pace around the hall. Her footfalls clapped and echoed through the huge space. "I just... Coming here was supposed to be fun. For all of us. It's hard enough to keep everyone together as we all get older, and I really wanted to have this. So can you please just give me some space, baby?"

  Dawson felt a vein bulge in his neck. His fist tightened behind his back where she couldn't see it. "Trevor, too?"

  "What?"

  "Trevor," he said angrily. "I notice you made damn sure to include him, too!"

  She looked at him incredulously. "Trevor's the entire reason we're here!" she shouted. "He's the one that got the job; he's the one with the boat! Without him, we won't find anything. Janet and I may as well be stuck in our boring apartment for another weekend."

  "Why did he have to include you, then! You're always so quick to spend time with him. I don't like it."

  Bridgette became flustered. Her face flushed. "I don't want to do this right now." She stormed off past him and headed for the other end of the hall. Dawson watched her go, unsure whether he should follow her or not. Ultimately, he stomped on the floor and silently stewed.

  Bridgette disappeared through the hallway to the right and made her way to the parlor. She walked to the balcony and threw herself onto the banister, taking a deep breath and letting the soft wind blow over her face. She closed her eyes and felt the rays of the sun falling on her skin. The brine of the bay filled her nostrils. The calls of distant gulls floated by like feathers on the wind. There was an undercurrent of coolness slipping beneath the sunlight that was sweet respite to her skin. Already she felt calmer. She didn't know what came over her. She loved Dawson with all her heart, but sometimes she felt like she just couldn't breathe with him.

  "What's got you so worked up?" a voice said behind her.

  Bridgette spun around. "Oh, jeez. You scared me, Jan."

  "Sorry," she said. "What's the problem? You look like Frankenstein, you're so tense."

  "It's nothing," Bridgette said.

  Janet leaned against the banister with her. "I heard you and Dawson yelling. It's been more than usual lately, hasn't it?"

  Bridgette sighed. "I don't know what to do, Jan."

  "Is it about Trevor?" she asked.

  "That obvious?"

  Janet nodded. "I know Dawson's never liked him. But is he really jealous after all this time? You and Trevor only dated for a month. You told me yourself you didn't do much of anything with him."

  "I know," Bridgette said. "But you know how he can be sometimes. How are you holding up?"

  "I'm okay," Janet said, whipping her hair over her shoulder. It sparkled a brilliant reddy-orange in the sun. "This place doesn't seem so bad in the daytime, but that nightmare I had still has me spooked. I don't know how to explain it, but ever since we got here I've had this strange feeling like someone's watching me. I felt the same thing in my dream."

  Bridgette thought back to the display room she'd wandered into with the staring busts. "I know what you mean. This place does seem a little odd sometimes. I went over and talked to Boomer today."

  "Who? Wait, are you talking about that old guy beside the store?"

  Bridgette nodded.

  "Bridgette!"

  "Jan, just listen to me for a second. I think there's more to this place than we originally thought. Remember what you found online about this place?"

  Janet nodded.

  "He knew all about it," Bridgette continued. "Said it was real."

  "Did he know who did it?" Janet asked.

 
"No. But the way he was talking, he made it sound like this place is haunted or something."

  "Like, ghosts?"

  "He didn't say it in so many words, but I think that's what he was getting at."

  "Wow," Janet said, leaning over the railing and staring at the rocks below. "Maybe we should get out of here while we still can. You know, before we go insane and everything."

  "Can you imagine if we did?" Bridgette asked. "Trevor would blow a fuse about the size of Texas."

  "So what? He can find his dumb treasure by himself. I just thought it would be nice to get a change of scenery."

  "Speak of the devil," Bridgette muttered.

  The boat cut across the smooth bay in the distance. They could see Billy leaning over the edge and staring into the water. Karen was sitting on a lawn chair on the deck with her feet up, filing her nails. The boat headed for the channel leading behind the museum.

  "Maybe we should wait and see what they found," Bridgette said.

  The two of them parted ways and Bridgette wandered down the mansion's long hallways while she waited for the others to get back. Some of the halls were familiar, and some of them were not. She tried to explore places she hadn't been yet, and she peered into various rooms as she passed them by, seeing sewing rooms, old servants' quarters, an organ room and a chapel, and even a rear loggia leading down to the gardens and the gravesite behind the manor. She'd worked her way to the end of the house, and she came to a hallway she hadn't seen before. She stepped through another doorway and suddenly found herself in a sprawling library that climbed up to the second floor. Bookshelves spanned the walls from floor to ceiling, each of them stuffed with dusty old tomes. A spiral staircase sat at the edge of the room and led up to a little balcony overlooking the room and a hallway.

  The unexpectedness of such a magical place took Bridgette's breath away. She marveled at the multicolored array of books and began tipping them off their shelves and glancing at the covers at random. She found old encyclopedias and boring legal tomes, but also whole sections devoted to classic literature and adventure novels and romance.