The Haunted Inn (Haunted House Ghost Story): The Hauntings of Kingston

by Michelle Dorey

  Over her fingers were two loops of silver chain and crosses that glinted in the soft candle light. “There’s one for you and one for Tim. Please wear them.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t believe in any of this stuff.” He took the chain from her hand and held the cross looking at it. It wasn’t just a cross; the figure of a man was fastened to it.

  “It’s a crucifix, a symbol of faith.” Her gaze was soft looking into his eyes.

  “Faith? I don’t go to church—”

  “Neither do I. But the priest who helped me pick them out—”

  “Probably the most expensive ones.” He muttered, handing it back to her.

  Her hand flew up and she shook her head. “No! Keep it. It’s an acknowledgement of power greater than ourselves—a power than can help you.”

  He snorted. “So, to protect myself I should wear an amulet of a dead guy?” A smile flashed on his face to soften his words. “I’ll wear it, if only to please you.”

  Her lips were set and she reached for his hand, gripping it firmly and giving it a little shake. “No. Wear it to acknowledge a greater power...”

  “You couldn’t just do some feng shui thing? Come out to the house and rearrange the furniture or something?” He laughed and ducked when her hand flew up to cuff his head.

  “Eejit!” She smiled despite herself. “Look. I don’t care if it’s Catholic, Hindu or Wiccan. All faiths are unified in one concept, that there is an unseen power or force that is far greater than us.”

  “Yoda, you are not.” He looked down to hide the laugh.

  She jabbed her hands against his chest and took the chain from him, slipping it over his head. “Look, I may not be as new age as Aphra but I know there’s more in the universe than meets the eye. Try to get Tim to wear his, okay?” Her hands cupped his face and she looked him in the eye. “This is important to me. I know about this stuff, all right?” When he nodded, she took the crucifix and slipped it over his head.

  The serious tone and concern in her eye melted his last resolve. He’d wear this and do his best to get Tim to, as well.

  Her hands slipped down from his face and rested lightly on his chest. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I’m listening Sophie. I’ll wear the crucifix and I promise I’ll be careful. But you have to listen to me as well. Trust me, if you can. This will work out well and maybe down the road when you see that, it can be the way it was between us again.”

  She lifted her chin and her eyes met his. “I’ll try to listen and respect your point of view, even if I don’t agree. I want us to be together but I’ll have to think long and hard about going out to the house to visit you. If you want to see me, you’ll have to come here...at least for a while.”

  Brad’s eyebrows rose and he smiled. It wasn’t perfect but at least they were still together. At this point it looked like they were agreeing to disagree. He could live with that...for a while at least to see how it worked out. The thought of her not being a part of his life was just too depressing.

  She grinned and rose on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “Maybe I should be giving you sweet grass...”

  “I haven’t smoked weed since high school” He shook his head watching her. What the hell?

  “It’s First Nation spirituality, smartass.” She handed him Tim’s box and her face was tight with worry again.

  “Covering all your bases, huh? The next thing, you’ll be calling a witch doctor with rattles and beads or something. Tim will definitely have a conniption over that.” He pocketed the box and sighed. Tomorrow was another full day of work at the house. He really should be going, but still he lingered.

  Her hand rose to rest lightly on his back. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Brad, with or without Tim’s approval.” Her hands drifted to the buttons on his shirt and she smiled slipping them open.

  Chapter 15

  Tim

  Day 3

  Tim was perched on a stepladder, finishing the installation of the security camera at the front door. It was top of the line, with night vision capability and unlike the others to be installed inside, this one was triggered on by motion or sound.

  He looked down from his perch to see Jeff Comstock, the contractor they hired, ease himself around the ladder and go to his panel truck. Tim didn’t mind at all that Brad was the one to help the guy set up the electrical and plumbing for the washer and dryer. If he never had to go in the infested basement again, he’d be a happy camper.

  He finished the last screw, checked the position of the sensors and camera lens and went down the ladder. As he bent over to put his tools and supplies back into the toolbox, the silver crucifix Sophie had sent him slipped out of the collar of his shirt.

  Still kneeling on the floor, his fingers closed on the tiny object and rested there for a few moments. What was it about this amulet that made him feel a sense of calm from wearing it? He didn’t believe in religion. It was probably the only thing he’d ever agree with Karl Marx on—that religion was the opiate of the masses. Still, there was no denying the fact that he liked wearing it. Brad had been surprised when he took it without any sarcastic remark.

  Jeff the contractor grinned at him as he once more eased past the ladder. He was burdened by plumbing pipes and tools.

  “Sorry, man,” Tim said, standing. “Let me get that ladder out of the doorway.” He felt a little abashed kneeling there lollygagging while there was still a lot of work to be done.

  “Thanks, man,” said Jeff, continuing on to where he was working.

  Tim popped the braces on the ladder and slapped it closed. “Owww!” His finger got pinched between the steps and the support legs. He jerked his hand away, flicking a droplet of blood onto the wooden floor. Damn it. He stuck his finger in his mouth. Uh oh. When was the last time he’d had a tetanus shot?

  He set the ladder on the wall beside the door and walked into the kitchen to run some water over the cut. He could hear the contractor and Brad down in the cellar banging away as they re-ran the pipes for the new appliances. Things were really starting to come together.

  He put his finger under the tap and hissed at the sharp pain. After a minute he pulled his hand away, relieved at seeing the blood begin to clot. It might not get all of the germs out but at least he had a fighting chance.

  There weren’t any band-aids, so he grabbed a paper towel and wrapped his finger before heading back to the entrance to get the ladder. When he got there, he stopped short and his eyes narrowed. The ladder was halfway up the hall. In addition, while his toolbox was where he left it on the porch beside the door, the drill was perched on the top step of the ladder.

  With the battery taken out and placed on the next lower step.

  There were only the three of them in the house. He could still hear Brad and Jeff working in the cellar. Passing the ladder he went to the front door and looked down the driveway and across to the garage. As he suspected, he saw there was no one else around. His stomach tightened and he exhaled slowly.

  When they’d arrived this morning, the rocking chair had been exactly where he’d left it. It was the first thing he’d checked when he walked into the house. It was funny because it had been kind of disappointing. But now, the ladder moving and the drill taken apart made his skin crawl. It felt personal somehow—the closeness of something moving stuff he’d just used. Without making a sound!

  His finger started to throb painfully.

  His jaw set and he took a deep breath before reassembling the battery and drill and dropping them into the tool caddy. He picked up the rest of the tools and walked back into the house. There were still three cameras to set up. Too bad the ghost, or spirit or whatever the hell it was, wouldn’t help with that rather than play stupid pranks.

  He walked down the hall and stopped when he came to Brad, coming up out of the cellar. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. The plumbing and electrical lines are set up downstairs. It’s just the final hook-ups now.” His gaze dropped to the wad of pap
er towel looped over Tim’s finger. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. I pinched my finger in the step ladder.” He picked the paper away and looked down at his finger—as badly as it was throbbing, it had stopped bleeding. “I’m going upstairs to finish the cameras. Let me know if you need my help moving the appliances.”

  “As if...” Brad chuckled. Jeff came out of the cellar and the two of them looked at Tim’s slender frame then each other and laughed.

  “Screw you.” Tim turned and went up the stairs and set the next camera and the drill on the floor in the hallway.

  He went back downstairs to get the ladder from the hallway.

  His breath froze in his chest. It was gone.

  Even though his heart must have skipped twenty beats, he let out a huff of frustration. “Oh maaan!” he said. He went to the front door and stuck his head out.

  The ladder was now at the end of the house, closed up, lying on its side and leaning against the wall. This was ridiculous. Once more he looked around the yard and down the driveway. But again, the only movement was a butterfly and a bird swooping by.

  “Is that you, Baxter? You don’t like the cameras? Well, fuck you.”

  Brad had filled him in about the Baxter family history in this place. He didn’t give a damn if it was Baxter from the ‘40’s or the Baxter from 911. Baxter was Baxter and he was starting to annoy him. He strode down the veranda and grabbed the ladder from where it was propped. Now, at least he had a name for the ghost, after Brad bringing home the newspaper article from Sophie’s. It certainly was a gruesome story. What kind of maniac would kill his kids? Even the four year old?

  When he stepped back inside carrying the ladder, he jumped, wide eyed at the series of thuds that boomed through the house.

  They suddenly went silent, followed by a series of rasping scrapes in the walls.

  Tim didn’t move.

  “Got it!” Jeff’s voice called out and then the whine of an electric drill filled the air.

  Of course, the hook-ups. He shook his head and continued up the stairs to the second floor. Once he had the inside cameras set up, he’d turn them on and let them run for the night. He could test the recordings with his laptop tomorrow to make sure they worked.

  He set the ladder up and placed the camera on the top before grabbing the drill and climbing up. The camera would pick up any movement down the hallways, to the back of the house.

  As he secured the electronic device to the ceiling his face grew tight. After seeing the face in the picture he’d taken the day before, there might be weird things showing up on the recording that they weren’t counting on. That face yesterday had only been the beginning. Then the drawers and faucets, and now the crap going on with the ladder?

  He blinked. Carly’s encounter with that dress in the lake wasn’t any fluke. He didn’t know what to call that incident, but it was more deliberate than random, that was for sure.

  Things were starting to heat up, and he was getting more concerned. Especially considering they’d be actually living in the house in another day.

  He put the last screw in and tested the camera’s stability. Solid as a rock. It wasn’t going anywhere and neither were he and Brad. If the recording showed ghostly images, so much the better. Maybe he could post them on You Tube and make some money out of it. It could be their film debut. They might even get a movie deal out of it.

  He stepped off the ladder and wiped his hands on his jeans. Two more to go.

  Chapter 16

  Tim

  Day 4

  Tim arrived by himself the next day. Brad was visiting a car dealer and Carly had agreed to pick him up and bring him out to the house when he was through.

  He grabbed the laptop and got out of the car. It was almost the end of July, a perfect summer day and he whistled as he strode across the veranda to slip the key in the lock. He had to be quick. He only had an hour or so to view the recordings from the video cameras before Carly and Brad would arrive.

  The house was quiet as a tomb when he stepped inside. And the air was once more a bit musty smelling and cool on his skin. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he walked through the dining room to set the laptop on the kitchen counter.

  His skin crawled. It felt too quiet. He whistled a faint tune as he climbed the stairs to get the memory card from the camera. When he walked down the stairs, he got the card from the camera in the hallway and went back into the kitchen.

  In no time flat he was opening the program to view the video recordings. The screen filled with a daylight scene of the long hallways bordering the stairwell. Everything was as he’d left it. He took a deep breath and then sighed long and slow. Of course that would be the case.

  The recording covered a span of fourteen hours. There was no way he had the time to stand there and view all of that. He clicked a button and the fast forward function kicked on, although it was hard to tell, other than the light gradually fading as night fell. He stood watching the screen for another few minutes, seeing only darkness. He paused the action to record the time. The small timer at the bottom of the screen showed twelve, twenty-four.

  At least the fast forward was humming right along. At this rate, he’d only have to watch for another ten minutes to get to the end of it. He clicked the icon to get the thing moving again.

  He settled his butt against the counter and folded his arms over his chest looking at the dark screen. This was almost as boring as watching paint dry. Suddenly the screen flashed a few times, like a strobe light, revealing the hallways...and...

  His heart lurched up into his throat. Oh my God. He leaned over and hit the pause button, then rewind. When the screen showed again it was in real time speed. The light in the hallway flashed on and off repeatedly. But the real spooky thing was seeing the doors to the bedrooms. Each one of them slowly opened and then banged shut with a force that shook the floor, jiggling the image out of focus for a second.

  He hit stop and then replayed it another time, staring at it as his heart beat fast in his chest. He kept watching, barely able to breathe, even when the screen once more was dark and nothing seemed to be happening. His finger pressed the fast forward button and he peered at the laptop, waiting for something else.

  At the sudden creaking noise coming from the other side of the house, his head swivelled around. He stopped the recording with a trembling finger and stepped away from the counter, cocking his ear. The creak was slow and steady.

  He tiptoed across the floor, through the dining room and into the parlour. The sound was louder and at the movement in his peripheral sight, he turned to look into the library. He froze, heart thundering in his chest, while his lungs locked.

  The rocking chair was next to the window, and it was swaying back and forth. Perched on the seat, at the edge was the alchemy book, splayed open. The chair rocked slowly and came to an abrupt halt, throwing the book to the floor with a sharp thud.

  He jumped and his eyes bulged from his head, fixated on the book and the now immobile chair. What the hell!

  He forced himself to take a deep breath, followed by another and another. His heart slowed down although his body felt like he’d just run a marathon, weak and jittery. Holy shit, that was scary.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a car in the driveway, followed by the banging sound of car doors slamming shut. Thank God, they were here.

  He looked over at the book laying open on the floor and the rocker sitting still. His jaw clenched tight and his hands formed fists, the nails of his hand biting into his flesh. Whatever had just happened had scared the shit out of him! He’d have to check his underwear later. A nervous laugh erupted from his throat.

  “Think you’re pretty good, huh Baxter? I have to admit, you had me there for a minute. But I’m not a four year old kid you’re dealing with you bastard. Ha! The joke’s on you. You’re going to make me a millionaire.” He smiled a tight lipped grin and turned to greet Carly and Brad who were just entering the house.

&
nbsp; “How’d you make out? Find a car, Brad?” He grinned, hoping his voice sounded natural. His body still tingled with fright.

  “Yeah. There’s a Subaru that’s not too bad. I’m picking it up tomorrow.” Brad looked around and turned puzzled eyes to him. “Where’s the paint? What have you been doing? Slacking off, I bet.”

  Tim stepped to Carly and kissed her lightly. “Hey doll. Thanks for giving asshole a lift.” He turned and walked into the dining room, calling over his shoulder, “I left the paint for you, muscle man. Hop to it.”

  He kept going to the kitchen, ignoring Brad’s insult to his ancestry. He had to get the memory cards from the laptop and hide them. He paused for a moment and his lips were tight. Maybe he should show them to Brad. They’d be moving in the next day and at least he’d be a bit better prepared.

  He took a deep breath and snapped the laptop lid shut. No. He’d mention the lights flickering and doors banging but the actual footage was too eerie. Best to ease him in a bit at a time. It was creepy, not life threatening. They could handle this.

  ***

  He was in the house, running from room to room, looking for her. Carly sounded scared and hurt. He raced up the stairs, pivoting fast around the newel post at the top. The lights were flickering on and off and doors were opening and then banging shut with a force that was deafening. Where was she?

  His heart raced and a bead of cold sweat trickled down his spine, when he entered the first bedroom. It was empty and the tree branch tapped wildly at the window. He scurried back out and stopped in horror, seeing the barrel-chested man leering at him, coming closer while his hand gripped the axe tight.

  The words wouldn’t come. Somehow he was struck dumb for a few moments. Finally, like pulling his voice from the bottom of a well, he barked, “Where is she?”