The Haunting of Blackwood House

by Darcy Coates

  “How much?” she asked.

  Jenny, caught off guard, stopped fanning herself. “Pardon, honey?”

  “How much is the house?”

  “You—uh, well, the asking price is significantly less than your budget. And the owner is open to negotiations, too.”

  Mara gestured towards the lawn in front of them. “And what land comes with the property?”

  Jenny’s mascara was starting to bleed as sweat ran into her eyes, but she managed to maintain a staunch smile. “I can get the exact survey records for you at the office, but it’s a bit over four acres. It extends down the driveway and a little into the woods behind the house.”

  “Great, thanks. Can we have another look around?”

  “Absolutely, honey.” Jenny jiggled the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. She blinked at it. “Did you lock the door behind yourself?”

  Mara and Neil glanced at each other and shook their heads.

  “Oh… how odd. Well, it was supposed to be locked anyway. Hang on a second, honey.” Jenny fished a rusted metal key out of her pocket and fit it into the handle. The lock scraped open, and Jenny pushed the door inwards then stepped back so Mara and Neil could go ahead of her.

  Mara caught a glimpse of Jenny’s trembling, manicured fingers. She really hates this house, huh? “It really is quite muggy,” she said as she passed Jenny. “Would you like to stay outside, where there’s a breeze? Neil and I can have a look around ourselves.”

  This time the smile was genuine. “Oh, sure thing, honey. Take as much time as you like.”

  The door creaked closed behind them, sealing out the quiet hum of insects and the rustling trees. Mara took a deep breath and swivelled to face Neil. “Well, what do you think?”

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re actually considering this place?”

  “You’re not?” She laughed. “This is halfway to a mansion for the price of a condo. Four acres! It’s surrounded by trees, too. You’re always saying I should be healthier. Trees are healthy.”

  “You really don’t mind the building? The history doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not at all.” Mara shrugged. “You know I’m not superstitious. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Neil. I know it’s miles bigger than I actually need, but am I really going to turn it down in favour of some poky two-room apartment?”

  Neil shook his head, but a broad smile had grown over his face. “You’re remarkable, Mara. Okay, let me have a look around and make sure this place isn’t about to collapse on us.”

  Mara spent the following half hour drifting from room to room as Neil kicked the walls and opened cupboards. Every few minutes, he made a stifled noise of revulsion as his search turned up dead mice and cockroaches.

  The more she saw of the building, the more enthralled Mara found herself. It had an almost magnetic charm. Even the flaws—the warping wood, the crooked cupboard doors, and the old-fashioned furniture—added to its appeal. She could feel her pulse jumping as she rubbed her fingers over the dusty bannister. My house. Yes, that feels right, somehow… this is my house.

  Neil, coated in dust, came through the dining room entrance. He brushed his hands on his pants. “Okay. The basic structure seems solid. There’s some wood rot, but really, it’s far better than I would have expected. Can’t find any sign of termites, but you’ll probably want an expert to check anyway. I haven’t looked at the roof. Based on what we saw outside, I’m guessing it would need a fair bit of work. But I can’t find any major deal breakers.”

  Mara’s heart thundered. A giddy, foolish smile bubbled up inside of her until she couldn’t contain it any longer. “Neil, I think I’m going to buy this house.”

  “You’re going to buy this house?”

  “I’m going to buy this house!” She threw herself at Neil. He caught her up and twirled her around as though she weighed nothing. She was breathing too hard to return his kiss properly, and pretty soon they were both laughing.

  “Congratulations, sweetheart.” Neil gave her a final, firm hug then placed her back on the floor. “It’ll need a lot of work to be liveable, but we can fix it up over the next few months.”

  “We?” Mara echoed.

  Neil snorted and brushed loose strands of hair off her forehead. “I’m not about to leave you to deal with this mess yourself. Joel won’t mind if I cut back my hours a bit, and I can bring tools from work for when we need them.”

  Mara hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s a big job, and I can’t pay you—”

  “Nepotism makes the world go around, sweetheart. Let me do this for you. If it makes you feel better, you can call it your birthday present.” When Mara hesitated, Neil stooped to her level and smiled into her eyes. “Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to spend some more time with you. And that’s all I really want.”

  “Fine, fine, all right.” Mara pulled Neil close to kiss him. His lips were warm and pliant, and she felt him relax against her as she tangled her hands in his hair. It was a delicious sensation. She pulled back reluctantly. “Thank you.”

  “Any time.” Neil was grinning. “Want to go break the news to our poor realtor?”

  “Hah, yeah. This place really freaks her out. She deserves the commission.”

  CHAPTER FIVE: History

  They found Jenny pacing up and down the porch, feverishly sucking on a cigarette. She stubbed it out on the bannister when Neil cleared his throat. “Well, how’d it go? Not quite what you were looking for?”

  Mara couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “No, it’s great. I’ll take it.”

  Breathless Jenny’s eyebrows shot up. She blinked twice before she could fix her smile then laughed nervously. “R-really? You want it?”

  Mara shrugged. “Yeah. I want it.”

  “Oh. Oh, okay! Great! That’s fantastic! Let’s—uh—should we—”

  Despite having spun the most positive sales pitch she could manage, Jenny seemed completely unprepared for her client’s interest. She looked from Mara to the house and back again, and her smile slowly fizzled.

  It wasn’t the expression Mara had expected. She’d thought Breathless Jenny would be delighted to unload a house she clearly disliked. Instead, she looked frightened.

  Crap. There’s going to be a major flaw in the building after all. I should have known it was too good to be true. What is it? Does it flood? Asbestos? Rabid squirrels in the forest?

  “Sweetheart,” Jenny said as gently as she could. “I need to warn you—no, warn isn’t the right word—that is—”

  “Yes?” Mara said. Neil shifted closer to rub his hand across her back. She took a deep, slow breath and said, in a kinder tone, “What is it, Jenny?”

  Jenny, past having scruples about smoking in front of her clients, fished a new cigarette out of her bag. She lit it, took a quick breath, and said, “I don’t want to frighten you, but you should know: there are stories about this house. Previous owners have experienced—well, they say they experienced—some strange things here. Of a supernatural nature.”

  Mara could guess where the conversation was heading. Neil squeezed her shoulder. Stay calm, the gesture said.

  “Oh, so it’s haunted, huh?” Mara managed to keep her voice civil, but her smile was tight. “Okay. No problem. How about we get back to the office and sign some papers? You look like the sort of woman who appreciates a good contract.”

  Jenny’s smile dipped. “I’m only trying to help, honey. You can’t be from around these parts, or you’d know this house has a reputation.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “Blackwood House was with our agency when I started as a realtor. It was notorious even then. And after what the last family went through—”

  “Hey, do you want me to buy this place or not?”

  Jenny sucked on her cigarette then blew a long stream of smoke towards the trees. When she spoke, she’d managed to rein her voice back into a bright, friendly cadence. “It’s an excellent property. And an absolute bargain for the price. But I’m b
oth morally and legally obligated to inform you of any impediments to a mutually happy transaction.”

  “Fine, go ahead.” Mara crossed her arms. She knew her smile was closer to a grimace, but not even Neil’s increasingly firm squeezes could calm her. “Inform me. Is it ectoplasm? Blood dripping from the ceilings?”

  Breathless Jenny didn’t speak for a moment. Their tenuous civility was nearing breaking point, and she seemed to be trying to speak politely. “Footsteps. Doors open by themselves. Smudgy handprints appear on the walls. Strange noises at night.”

  “Okay, great. Anything else?”

  “And some of the tenants said they saw ghostly figures entering and leaving rooms.” Jenny released the last sentence in a quick burst, as though she wanted to get the worst over with as quickly as possible. She glanced at Mara, who gave her a stiff shrug.

  “Cool. Now will you sell me the damn house?”

  Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m making this up.”

  “No.” Mara shook Neil’s hand off. “I think you’re regurgitating what you’ve heard, which is ninety percent fiction and ten percent natural occurrences that have been misconstrued. Look, I know ghosts. I grew up in a house that practically worshipped them. We had seances every damn weekend. When I was five, my mother told me my dead grandfather stood at the end of my bed and watched me sleep. Do you have any idea how many nightmares that gave me?” Mara knew her voice was rising, but she was unable to control it. “When I was ten, my dad drowned my pet rabbit because a Ouija board told him to. I started getting panic attacks when I was twelve. Any other kid would have been taken to a doctor. Any normal kid. But I got to sit in a circle of costume-wearing freaks as they attempted to summon ghosts to heal me.”

  Jenny took a step back. She wore a look Mara was horribly familiar with. Countless strangers had directed it at Mara’s own parents. This person is crazy, it said.

  Mara squeezed her hands into fists. She was shaking, and patches of black crept in at the edges of her vision. She lowered her voice, but the hoarse, strained tone still permeated it. “I know everything there is to know about ghosts. And I can tell you definitively that there’s no such thing. Every single one of the spirit mediums who had dinner with us was a fake. All of those seances were manufactured. Every message from the dead was a series of normal, natural events that got twisted and distorted until it held meaning. You want to know if I’m okay living in a ghost-riddled house? Sure thing! Bring it on! Because there’s no such thing!”

  “Mara, sweetheart.” Neil had bent so that his chin rested on her shoulder and he could whisper into her ear. His hands—those beautiful, strong carpenter’s hands—rubbed her arms. “Breathe, darling.”

  Mara sucked in a lungful of air. She was dizzy, she realised, and her throat felt raw. She closed her eyes until the unsteadiness passed. When she opened them again, she saw Jenny standing on the edge of the deck, her eyes huge as she tapped her cigarette anxiously.

  “Damn,” Mara breathed. She opened her mouth to apologise, but her tongue wouldn’t form the words.

  “Jenny.” Neil’s gentle voice seemed to diffuse the tension in the air. “Everything’s okay. We’d still like the house. Why don’t you head back to the office, make yourself a nice strong cup of coffee, and relax for the afternoon? You can get in touch tomorrow to organise the purchase. Okay?”

  Jenny dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with her heel. She looked pale, but she nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, honey. Let’s do that. I—” She glanced at Mara.

  “Sorry.” Mara’s anger was fading, and deep humiliation was taking its place.

  Breathless Jenny recovered her realtor’s smile with surprising elasticity. She waved the lingering smoke away as she backed down the stairs. “It’s quite okay, honey—nothing to apologise for. This—this is good. You might be just the sort of person this house needs.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, probably.”

  “I’ll send the official paperwork through this afternoon.” Jenny turned and began the laborious walk across the high-heel-hating stone pathway. “You two take care, now.”

  “Bye,” Mara whispered while Neil waved their realtor off with a bright smile.

  Mara held still until Jenny’s hot-pink car had disappeared around a bend in the road and the rows of dark, spindly trees blotted out the colour. She felt deeply, hotly ashamed of herself. I’ve been free for four years. I should be past all of that… junk. What’s wrong with me?

  She turned to Neil. He stood close to her, one arm around her shoulders to comfort and brace her. She pressed her hand to his chest and felt his heart beating. Strong. Steady. “I’m so sorry, Neil. That was awful.”

  “Shhh.” His other arm snaked around her waist to envelop her in a warm hug. “C’mere. You’re still shaking. Do you want to sit down?”

  “I’m fine now.” Mara closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Herbs and sawdust. “Thanks for fixing everything.”

  “I’m just sorry the house has such a messed-up history. Do you still want it? It’s not too late to back out.”

  Mara tilted her head to look over Neil’s broad shoulder. Blackwood’s grey walls—adorned with countless spiders’ homes, clusters of moss, and blooming stains—hadn’t lost any of its charm. If anything, its appeal was growing with each moment she spent near it. “Yeah. I definitely want it. More than anything.”

  “All right. Let’s get some lunch. You’ll feel better after food.”

  “Sure thing, Mum,” Mara said, and Neil grinned as he kissed the top of her head.

  CHAPTER SIX: Stalkers and Delusions

  “I’ve got to ask. You hate even the mention of spirits, but you’re buying an allegedly haunted house. It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Heck no.” Mara snorted as she dismantled her burger. They were sitting at a back booth of one of the town’s cosier cafes. Neil had a steak with extra salad. Mara had ordered a burger with a double serving of chips and had threatened to add pancakes before she was done. “Because it’s not haunted.”

  Amusement hovered in Neil’s shining blue eyes as he watched her divide each layer of the burger into its own neat pile. He still wore the tightness around his lips, though, and Mara knew the realtor’s story had, in some slight way, unsettled him. “Even though no one else wants to stay there? Even after what they’ve experienced?”

  “There are three simple explanations.” Food compartmentalised, Mara began shovelling it into her mouth. “First, mass delusion. It’s more common than you might think. Imagine five people are in a room. One person says, ‘Can you smell that?’ Another person says, ‘Oh yeah; it’s like boiled cabbage.’ A third person agrees. All of a sudden, even you can smell it. The air’s perfectly clear, but because everyone is telling you to smell the boiled cabbage, you become convinced you can.”

  “And there’s a mass delusion about Blackwood?”

  “Could be. You’ve already got the perfect set-up for a classic haunted-house narrative—a serial killer’s home. All you need is for one occupant to say there’s a ghost. Suddenly, every other family that lives there can feel presences following them and claim the doors open all on their own. The more people parrot these claims, the more prevalent they become. Of course, you’ll probably have a few enablers on the way—people who like the drama so much that they invent stories just for kicks. And their families will follow along like the happy fools they are. If you’re expecting and looking for a ghost, you can bet you’re going to find one.”

  “Okay, mass delusion.” Neil nudged his side of salad towards Mara, but she shoved it back. “That’s one explanation. What else?”

  “There could be a physical catalyst. A gas leak can create highly realistic paranoid hallucinations. And many supposed hauntings have been attributed to EMF emissions, which can make you see and hear things that aren’t real and induce a feeling of terror.”

  “Have something green.”

  “No. The third option—and, arguably, the most interesting—is a house s
talker.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Stalkers don’t exclusively focus on people. Sometimes they can obsess over objects—such as houses. It’s not common, but it does happen. There may have been a stalker who frightened each new occupant away so that he could have the house all to himself. It’s surprisingly easy to manufacture a fake ghost.”

  “Huh. Imagine trying to talk your house into getting a restraining order. He’s no good for you, honey. He doesn’t respect your walls.”

  Mara scowled. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “I’m taking this very seriously. It’s important that your house feels safe at night.”

  She gave his chest a playful slap.

  “Okay,” Neil said, grabbing her hand and kissing its back before she could pull it away. “Where does that leave you?”

  “It’s all ridiculously simple. Firstly, I know ghosts don’t exist, so I’m in no danger of succumbing to the mass-delusion effect. I’ll get someone to check for gas leaks and EMF emissions. And time should have fixed any danger of house stalkers.”

  “It’s only been twenty years since the house’s last occupants.”

  “Yeah, but remember it’s been a long-term problem, since the early 1900s. Even if the stalker started when he was a teenager, he’d be dead by now. Or at least way too old to be a serious threat.”

  “So, that’s it, then? It comes down to boiled cabbage, gas, or stalkers?”

  “Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with Blackwood that can’t be fixed with a few simple tools. And it’s mine.” Mara laughed. The reality was starting to sink in, and with it came nearly hysterical excitement and anxiety. “I have a house, Neil. All mine.”

  He beamed at her. “You deserve it. I’m so happy you found a place you like.”

  “That’s the incredible thing. I don’t just like it. I love it. It’s ridiculously big for just one person, though. I’ll probably go insane trying to keep it clean. But there’s actually room for a garden out the back.”