The Haunting of Abram Mansion

by Alexandria Clarke

  “I know, buddy, but we gotta get out of here,” I pleaded. “Can you let me in?”

  “Okay.”

  The lock almost clicked out of place before Basil tackled me from the side. My knee buckled inward as he flattened me out on the floor, and I screamed as he intentionally twisted my ankle between his hands.

  “Where’s your grandfather now?” he hissed, throwing himself on top of me to keep me rooted to the floor. “Not here to save you, huh?”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Let’s just say he’s closer to God now.”

  I wrestled one hand free and pressed Basil’s face away from mine, raking my nails across his cheek. He howled in pain as three deep gouges opened in his skin. He grabbed my wrist and slammed my hand against the carpet, pinning it in place. Sammy banged on the door from the room, shouting incoherently.

  “Stay inside!” I yelled to him hoarsely.

  “So noble,” Basil said, displaying that terrible grin again. “You and your grandfather love being the heroes, don’t you? God, it’s annoying.”

  He let go of my hand to reach for something behind him: the cue ball from the pool table in the study upstairs. He gripped it firmly and raised it above his head. With my free hand, I tried to grab his elbow, but he stayed out of my reach.

  “Maybe I’ll see you again,” he said, “but I hope not.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as the cue ball came hurtling toward my head, not wanting to see the moment it thunked against my skill. The blow never came. The ball bounced off the wooden floors and rolled away. Basil collapsed on top of me, forcing the breath out of my lungs.

  “Ugh!”

  Panting, I shoved Basil off of me and rolled to my knees. Basil was completely unconscious. Like Della, he bore a dark mark on his head—close to his neck—one that quickly spread blood across the new carpet. Something thunked to the floor—the rolling pin. I whirled around.

  “Penelope?” I whispered.

  She wasn’t her usual sparkling, incandescent self. She flickered in and out like a faulty fluorescent light as she stared down at the unmoving body of her husband.

  “Did you do that?” I asked her.

  She nodded silently. I moved forward and pressed two fingers against the inside of Basil’s wrist. “He doesn’t have a pulse.”

  “Leave him,” Penelope whispered. “Come with me. Into the bedroom.”

  “He’s dead,” I murmured. “I have to call the cops. I have to check on Andrew and Ben!”

  Penelope leaned down, placing herself between me and Basil. Though she had no physical body, the cold radiating off of her forced me away from her once husband. “This is more important,” she said. “We’re leaving.”

  “What?”

  She gave me no answer, instead floating through the closed door and into the bedroom. I stood on shaky feet, using the wall to prop myself up. Both my right knee and ankle were too damaged to put weight on. I checked the door. Sammy had unlocked it.

  Inside the bedroom was a spectacle I never expected to see. Sammy stood between Penelope and Alyssa, his hands—somehow—clutched in theirs. Was it an illusion? Could he actually feel the ghosts on either side of him? He stared up at Penelope in amazement. I did too. The light that made up the ghosts’ presence had changed. They no longer looked gray and gloomy, but radiant and white. The moonlight from the window made Alyssa’s skin glitter and shine.

  “You did it,” Alyssa told me, beaming from ear to ear. She was no longer wearing her trademark pink scarf, but the wound on her neck had also disappeared. She looked like a regular five-year-old kid, except for the fact that she was transparent. “You helped us.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the child. “It was my grandfather. It was your mother.”

  “I would have never been able to see Percy without your help,” Penelope told me. “He suddenly became visible to me when he tried to kill you. We’ve been waiting for this moment for forty years, Peyton. You made it happen.”

  I furiously shook my head. “It wasn’t me.”

  Penelope floated toward me and cradled my face in her hands, but I wasn’t like Sammy. I couldn’t feel anything except the cold. “You changed everything, and for that, I can never repay you. We have to go now. I can feel it pulling me away.”

  “Feel what?”

  She shrugged and smiled. “Whatever comes next.”

  Alyssa turned to Sammy. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  Sammy’s bottom lip trembled. “Am I ever going to see you again?”

  “Sure,” Alyssa said. “I’m always going to be with you.”

  “But it won’t be the same.”

  “No,” Alyssa said. “It’ll be better. Thanks for being my friend, Sammy.”

  He reached out to give her a hug, but his arms went through her. Alyssa laughed as they mimed a hug instead. “I’ll never forget you, Alyssa,” Sammy whispered.

  “Me either.”

  When they parted, Alyssa smiled and returned to her mother. Penelope took her daughter’s hand. Together, they floated to the window, where the moonlight shone through them. Sammy threw his arms around my waist and I hugged him to my side as Penelope and Alyssa gradually faded from view. Right before she disappeared, Alyssa waved goodbye.

  When I waved back, she was already gone.

  30

  “It’s the one at the end of the street,” I directed the airport taxi driver as I pointed over his shoulder from the back seat. “That blue one on the corner.”

  I smiled at the sight of the familiar house. It was a small cottage with a three-paneled sitting window in the front. The yard was freshly mowed and blooming with marigolds. A tree loomed over the roof in the backyard, a rickety swing hidden in its leaves. The driveway was packed with cars, so the driver parked on the curb instead.

  “Are you having a party?” he asked.

  “A family reunion,” I replied, hurriedly unbuckling my seatbelt. “And a very important birthday.”

  “You must be excited to be home.”

  I handed him a gracious tip. “You have no idea.”

  “Need help with your bags?”

  “Nope. Someone should be out any minute—”

  The white front door blasted open, and Sammy came running down the front walk. As I stepped out of the cab, he flung himself into my grasp. I hugged him tightly and ruffled his hair.

  “Holy crap!” I said. “Did you grow again?”

  “Probably! I’m the tallest kid in my class now.”

  With a year and change, Sammy looked like a totally different boy. Not only was he taller, but he wasn’t so skinny anymore. He did sports now too—baseball and karate—and he didn’t go anywhere without a ball cap. Half the time, he had a few bruises or scrapes to show off and a story to go with each one. Theo had finally let up on the reins, meaning Sammy was free to try a range of new things.

  “Hey, Peyton!” Theo was the next person to come flying out of the house to engulf me in a hug. “Welcome home!”

  Like Sammy, Theo had changed for the better. She’d cut most of her hair off. It sat near her chin rather than around her shoulders, something she claimed made her feel more free than she had in years. With Sammy taking more responsibility for himself, Theo had the time to do the same for herself. She had toned up at the local gym with weight-lifting and yoga classes.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Everything okay here?”

  “Totally.” Theo grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and handed it off to Sammy. “Where are your manners, kid?”

  As the cab driver carefully pulled away from the curb, Sammy tried to roll my suitcase up the front walk toward the house. “Gosh, this is heavy. What’s in this? Bricks?”

  “Your birthday present, actually,” I told him. “Unless you don’t want it?”

  “No, I want it!”

  “Guess you gotta get the suitcase inside then.”

  He put on a burst of speed as if the sui
tcase had suddenly become featherlight. Theo chuckled and linked her arm through mine. “How was Namibia? I don’t suppose they have Wi-Fi over there yet. It’s terrible not talking to you.”

  “It was great,” I said. “We got some amazing pictures, and Adele wrote the most moving article. It’s going to be huge.”

  “Who’s publishing it again?”

  “The New Yorker.”

  Theo squealed as she dragged me inside. “I’m so excited for you.”

  “I’m excited to be home.”

  The house smelled like cinnamon, as it did on the day we’d originally stepped inside. When Theo and I first decided to rent a house together, it seemed like a weird plan. After Ben and I finalized our divorce, I needed a place to call home base as my photography career took off. Likewise, Theo wanted a place where Sammy could have his own room and space to grow. It worked out that the perfect blue house in the quiet Falconwood neighborhood was up for grabs. Maybe it wasn’t a permanent situation, but it was the perfect one for now.

  The living room was decorated for Sammy’s birthday. Theo had gone for a samurai theme, no doubt playing up Sammy’s recent brown belt acquisition, but the paper plates had sumo wrestlers on them. As I fully entered the room, a rambunctious cheer went up. Sammy’s friends were playing Twister in front of the TV, and Bryce—a particularly lanky boy from Sammy’s third-grade class—had just taken out the rest of the kids with a right hand on yellow.

  I caught sight of Ben’s laughing face. When he saw me, he raised his beer in a salute. His new girlfriend, Mallory, sat beside him. I’d met her a few times before. She was nice and pretty, and more importantly, she wanted the life that Ben wanted to give to her. They lived together in mine and Ben’s old house, a few hours away, but Ben had wanted to visit Falconwood for Sammy’s birthday.

  “Do you want a drink?” Theo asked. “Your mother’s tending bar.”

  “Of course she is.”

  We went out to the patio, where my mother chugged fruit punch beside the backyard bar. “Peyton, honey! I didn’t know you were back in the States.”

  “I said I would be here,” I reminded her. “What’s in that fruit punch?”

  “Fruit punch,” my mother insisted. She reached in her pocket and tossed something at me. It was a sober chip. “Ninety days, kid. Proud of me?”

  She offered me the cup. I took a whiff. No hint of vodka.

  “Nice job, Mom.”

  “Thank you! What would you like? Old Fashioned? Manhattan? I’m living vicariously through everyone else today, but I’ve got a hankering for bourbon. Please, Peyton. Just let me uncork the Bulleit.”

  “I’ll have a water,” I said pointedly. “Where’s Grandpa?”

  Mom narrowed her eyes and nodded toward the towering tree. Andrew—Grandpa, as I was getting used to calling him—inspected the trunk and the attached swing. I wandered over to him.

  “Peyton!” he said, clasping me to his side. “I was just having a look at our boy’s swing here. These bolts are getting rusty, you know. They could break while he’s on it. What if he falls off?”

  “I’ll change them,” I promised. “How are you getting along with Mom?”

  “I think I’m wearing her down.” He took his sunglasses from his forehead and placed them over his eyes instead. “Every day, she forgives me a fraction more for leaving her and your grandmother.”

  “But it’s working out so far?”

  “So far. I’m glad to be home with her.” He looked over my head to watch my mom as she chugged a bottle of water while eyeing the bourbon wistfully. “I was a terrible father to her. It’s time I make up for it.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  The sliding door opened, and Della Gordon stepped out. She smiled widely as she made her way across the backyard. Shortly after the events that had occurred at the Abram Mansion that fateful night, she had awakened from her coma. Though she walked with a limp and a cane now, she got around on her own just fine.

  “I thought I heard your voice,” she said. Like everyone else, she gave me a big hug. “It’s so good to see you. I want to hear all about your new project.”

  “How long do you have?” I joked. “You’re the only person I can gush to about it.”

  “As long as you need,” Della said. “I’m so glad you got this opportunity.”

  Sammy appeared at the back door, holding the wrapped present he’d unearthed from my suitcase. “Peyton!” he yelled. “I’m going to open it, okay?”

  “Not until I come inside,” I replied. “I want to watch.”

  “Come inside then!”

  “Are you telling me what to do?”

  “...No?”

  I grinned and patted Grandpa on the back. “Shall we?”

  Everyone gathered in the living room to watch Sammy open his presents. There was a pile of them stacked around him, but he kept the one from me in his lap. Theo sidled up next to me.

  “What’d you get him?” she muttered in my ear.

  “You’ll see.”

  The other kids clamored around Sammy, craning their necks to get a look at the brightly wrapped packages. Sammy bounced up and down, unable to contain his excitement.

  “Can I open it?” he asked, his eyes sliding between me and his mom. He needed permission from both of us.

  “Yes,” we chorused.

  Sammy tore into the wrapping paper and unearthed a worn leather bag. Once he realized it was an antique, he moved with more caution. Tentatively, he unzipped the bag and unfolded the top part. When he reached in, he drew out the first camera I’d ever used, the one I’d actually stolen from my high school photography class. It was an old Pentax k1000, a classic starter SLR for anyone who wanted to pick up the hobby.

  “An old camera?” Bryce said. “Lame.”

  Sammy shoved Bryce’s shoulder. “Shut up, Bryce. It’s so cool!”

  With complete familiarity, Sammy checked to make sure a roll of film was loaded, lifted the viewfinder to his eye, and snapped a picture of me and Theo as we leaned against the kitchen counter. Then, just as quick, he snapped one of Bryce. The attached flash bulb went off in Bryce’s eyes.

  “Agh!” Bryce yelled. “I’m blinded!”

  “That’s what you get,” Sammy said smugly. He pulled the neck loop over his head so the camera bounced around his chest, shot to his feet, and ran over to me to give me another hug. “Thanks, Peyton! I’ll take good care of it.”

  I grinned and stole his baseball cap. “I know you will.”

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!

  Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.

  As an indie author, Amazon reviews can have a huge impact on my livelihood. So if you enjoyed the story please leave a review letting me and the rest of the digital world know. And if there was anything you found troubling, please email me. Your feedback helps improve my work, and allows me to continue writing stories that will promise to thrill and excite in the future. But be sure to exclude any spoilers.

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  Again, thank you so much for letting me into your world. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it!

  About the Author

  Read more mysteries by Alexandria Clarke- Click here to see her author page!

 

 

 
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