House of Darkness House of Light

by Andrea Perron

  “So what you’re saying is… this is really all about you.”

  “Of course it’s not! Don’t you think it’s our job to protect the kids?”

  “That is precisely what I am attempting to do! The Warrens are educated, articulate, sensitive people who seem knowledgeable about the supernatural. They know what they’re talking about.”

  “That always does impress you.” Roger could not control his sarcasm. He didn’t even try. “And how do you know they know what they’re doing? It’s their job to convince you that they’re the experts.”

  “Lorraine says our children are in harm’s way. She told me they’re highly susceptible to the supernatural activity in this house. She claims they’re all in danger! If that is true then it’s our job to learn more and to listen to what the experts have to say. It is the only responsible, parental thing to do.”

  “Self-proclaimed experts?” No slack in the rope, trying to hang her up.

  “Didn’t you hear me? The Warrens said our kids are in danger here!”

  Carolyn’s statement silenced her husband. His demeanor quickly altered, a harsh tone softened. After a pause for reflection came a pertinent question.

  “What kind of danger?” For once, he looked her straight in the eyes.

  “I don’t know what she meant. They want to interview the girls next.”

  “Absolutely not. They’ll scare the hell out of them. No way.” Period.

  “Nearly four years now… we’ve literally lived with the dead. After all these kids have seen and heard in this house, do you think talking about it with a couple of people who actually understand will traumatize them more? I think it will be a relief instead of another burden… I think it is important for them to talk things out… clear the air. It might help all of us to cope better.”

  “You would be taking a hell of a risk. We don’t even know these people.” Roger had a point, at the tip of a weapon of war, poised and ready to strike.

  “Actually, I do know them. You’re the one who ran like a bat out of hell the minute you heard they were coming… so it seems to me you should trust my judgment since I’m the only one who has a real, legitimate opinion about who they are and what their intentions might be. You left me alone to deal with this so let me deal with it the way I choose. Trust me.” That’s an order.

  “Like I trusted you about buying this house?” Roger had so little room for argument but that fact had never stopped him before. It was true. He deserted her but she was the one who invited them to the house by proxy, through a friend and she did so without his knowledge or consent. Therefore Roger felt justified in pursuing the point further. Adding fuel to their fire, he suggested, “Spending a few hours with someone does not mean you know them.” Open fire. Carolyn had pre-positioned assets, far more than torches and pitchforks and broomsticks at her disposal.

  “Unlike yourself, Roger, I am a good judge of character and you know it. I size people up quickly and accurately. The Warrens have come to help us. I sensed no ulterior motive. They met the kids and are genuinely concerned for their welfare. Don’t you think their parents should be at least as concerned?” A warning shot… went right over his head. Carolyn won that round.

  “What did they say?” No point in prolonging the inevitable, Roger was at last willing to listen, albeit grudgingly; this subject matter made him queasy, uncomfortable in his own skin. He was incapable of hiding it.

  “Quite a lot, actually.” Carolyn settled back in her chair then soothed her parched throat with a sip of coffee before beginning to speak. “For one thing, I was right. Remember those flies? Remember how they came in droves then all died at once? Remember when it happened? As soon as we acknowledged the existence of the spirits, they were gone. Those were botflies… the devil’s pets.”

  “What are you saying?” Roger was still skeptical, his cocked eyebrow, a sure sign of the times. He resented the woman ahead of her time.

  “It was not just an infestation. It was a manifestation. Those flies were all sent here on a mission, to observe the new occupants… to size us up.”

  “That is ridiculous!” A few choice words. “They told you that?”

  “How many times did we treat this house? How many different ways did we try to kill them? We couldn’t do it! Did we ever find them breeding?”

  “It doesn’t mean they weren’t . . . we just didn’t find out where.”

  “Nobody has thousands of house flies in the dead of winter. No one. Certainly not in Rhode Island! Don’t you remember how they’d attack us and buzz our heads? They’d stare at us! They did not even look like normal flies. Those fat, black little bastards! Don’t you remember how they’d drop dead in the windows then vanish… nothing at all but ashes and dust left behind. Lorraine says she has seen this happen before. They came here for a purpose. There was a reason for their presence in this house.”

  “Paranormal flies. You’ve already convinced me she’s a fraud.”

  “They were harbingers of things to come.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “She says this anomaly commonly occurs in the homes of the haunted; the flies come first. It’s impossible to get rid of them. They leave when they are ready to go, once they’ve served their purpose and not a moment sooner. Mrs. Warren said: ‘You can’t really kill what’s already dead.’”

  “And what, pray tell, is this grand purpose they serve?” Sarcasm again?

  “Botflies are only found around the dead. Corpses. They taunt to signify the existence of spirits in a house, almost like forewarning the residents.”

  “And you believe this bullshit.” A profane approach tends to stir the pot.

  “God damn it, Roger! Are you going to fight me on this all the way? And that’s another thing! I was honest with them about these conflicts between us and they said by engaging in arguments, fighting with each other is just like feeding raw meat to a lion… it makes them stronger. Lorraine says we have been fanning the flames by having talks like this one. Pure negative energy.” Adding more fuel to a fire about to rage out-of-control. “I am not gullible! I’m as educated and just as pragmatic as you are and I want an explanation!”

  “Great. So now these people think I’m a jerk.”

  “They don’t know that yet. You’ll have to prove it to them yourself.”

  Roger bolted from his seat, angry as hell, perhaps because he had missed his calling to the stage. Just as he did so, a bottle on the sideboard took flight and crashed to the floor, just enough to stop a temper tantrum in the making. He retrieved the undamaged bottle, studied then replaced it on the shelf. He then sat back down in his chair like a naughty little boy who’d been scolded. Revisiting his coffee in silence, an excuse to avoid speaking for a moment, without a glance at his wife, Roger suggested it was time to continue their conversation, doing so in a far more demure manner. Time to tone it down. For her part, Carolyn was also ready to bury the hatchet… in the center of her husband’s skull.

  “So… what else did they say.”

  “Well, for one thing they’ve explained the wildly fluctuating electric bills. Do you remember how it got higher and higher, month after month and then, after an incident, it would fall off to a fraction of what it had been before? It always spikes just before something major… it isn’t us, Roger… it’s them.”

  “How could I forget? I almost went broke paying off those first bills.”

  “Don’t you find it curious? That drastic drop after something happens?”

  “That is strange.” Roger’s initial admission of a genuine anomaly.

  “Lorraine says there is a malignant spirit draining energy from this house, enough electricity to be able to appear in solid form. She thinks it’s a force to be reckoned with and says it’s demonic… . her words, not mine.”

  “I’m just glad it stopped draining the bank account.” The bottom line had always mattered to the man, at times, at the expense of all else.

  “Aren’t you ev
en interested? Don’t you want to know why it happened?”

  “Well I don’t buy that explanation. I don’t believe in demons.”

  “What do you believe in, Roger? I will never forget the look on that man’s face when he came to change the meter.” Carolyn shook her head, stirred by the memory of it. “He thought it was broken. Then I thought he’d faint when he saw the gauge spinning inside the glass. He ran back to his truck and split. Remember? Something spooked him.”

  “Well, it wasn’t a demon! For Christ’s sake! If these people are going to plant ideas like that in your head, you’re better off without them.”

  “How do you know, Roger? You might be sadly mistaken about that. You were raised Catholic. Aren’t you supposed to believe in evil… in the devil?”

  “What else?” Roger was beginning to appear interested in her comments, except for the one prior, which he completely ignored like it didn’t exist.

  “She walked through the house, well, this level, anyway. When Lorraine went into our bedroom she literally shook in her boots. She prayed out loud. Both of them said we should close it off immediately. Seal it shut.”

  “That’s not going to happen. We have to sleep somewhere. I’m not giving up rooms in this house on their say so or anyone else’s, for that matter. No.”

  “Ed said a vengeful ghost can do quite a bit of damage. You don’t know. You weren’t really there. Dead to the world. No help at all, as I recall.”

  “I was there. My back got torn to shreds. Twice. Did you tell them about that? Did you say I’m converting the summer kitchen into our bedroom?”

  “Yes. I took her in there. She said it was all right. But she said the laundry room pantry was the site of something violent and tragic. I told her afterward about that door. She says it is the spirit of the victim attempting to escape her fate because she died so fast she doesn’t know she’s dead.”

  “How could she possibly know that?” Cynicism crept back into his voice.

  “She’s psychic. She knew why you weren’t here.”

  “I don’t believe that. You told her.”

  “I didn’t. In fact, I tried to cover for you. She didn’t buy it for a second.”

  “I had business to do…”

  “You had escaping to do… the same thing you’ve been doing for years!”

  “That’s not fair… I have a family to support!”

  “Roger, your support means a hell of a lot more than an income. Will you stay home long enough to meet with these people and see for yourself? They are harmless. I think you’ll find them kind and considerate of our situation, anxious to help in any way they can. That is my impression of them and you would feel the same sense I have about all of this. They’re the very best hope we have… our only hope. They have been investigating haunted houses for decades, all over the world! Sam said they’re considered to be the leading experts in the field of study related to the supernatural. If you don’t believe me and you don’t trust them, then you should at least trust Sam. He’s the one who knows about them and said they’re the real thing… not frauds.”

  “He told you that?”

  “He heard about a seminar they were doing at RIC and made an effort to meet them. Why can’t you do the same? For God’s sake, they came to us!”

  Invoking the name of Roger’s closest friend was all it took to pry his steel trap of a mind open just a crack; how the light gets in. If there was anyone whose judgment he trusted, it was Sam.

  “I suppose you invited them back…”

  “Damn right I did.”

  “When.” The man sounded defeated, on the verge of declaring surrender.

  “When I call them. I told Lorraine I needed to talk it through with you before we went any further. They need to interview you, too.”

  “I don’t want to deal with this.” Roger was sincere. He really didn’t want those people in his house and he didn’t want any family secrets divulged. He too was frightened by what he’d seen and heard in their home and he wasn’t looking for “explanations” as his wife was, just peace. He hated the conflicts, loathed the intrusions of spirits and feared further disruptions caused by this mysterious couple a little too anxious to expose and/or expel them from the place. Curiosity aside, his thirst for knowledge began to wane as the subject matter became more convoluted, increasingly uncomfortable. Carolyn had to know what was happening, and why. They’d finished off their coffee. Time to tend to the fire: escape. Leaving the kitchen for the parlor, Roger paused. By the sideboard he picked up the bottle which had became a projectile during an ungodly release of the rage welling within him, Roger stared at it, wondering if there could be any legitimacy to their theory; his outbursts and argumentative nature were prompting and actually encouraging metaphysical activity in the house. Inconceivable! He just shook his head, replacing it on the top shelf of the sideboard then left Carolyn sitting alone in the kitchen, again. Where’s a nice hot fire poker when you need one? She was armed and dangerous. Words became weapons of war. In that regard, she’s well-armed. She’d acquiesced in the past. This time she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars or sailed an

  uncharted land, nor opened a new doorway for

  the human spirit.”

  Helen Keller

  Prudence S.

  Daughter of

  Eaber & Charlotte Arnold

  Age 11 years & 10 months

  Oh, Death! How sudden was thy visit paid.

  No time allowed to bid a last adieu:

  This hour in health… the next a corpse was laid

  Torn from the world, from all her friends by you.

  Pure as her heart, may flowers eternal bloom

  May pensive genius strew them round her tomb.

  An entry from the

  Black Book of Burrillville:

  (Compiled by John Smith ~ Additional entries by J.C. Mathewson)

  Prudence Arnold January 31, 1849

  Throat cut with razor by Bill Norton

  at Dexter-Richardson House

  ~ dear sweet Prudence ~

  inquest

  “Knowledge is power.”

  Sir Francis Bacon

  Carolyn made the fateful call. Message received. Reassuring Lorraine she discussed everything with her husband, securing his cooperation, she invited the Warrens to return to the farm. Roger agreed to meet with them. Likewise, he’d reluctantly granted approval for the children to be interviewed. Carolyn tried to prepare them, explaining that it was safe to be open and honest about their experiences. April remained taciturn. Defensive… on high alert.

  “Mommy, you told us not to talk to anybody about it. Remember?”

  “I know, sweetheart, but this is different. They’re fine. That’s why they’re coming… to help us. Daddy said it was all right with him. He’ll be here, too.”

  “Help us how?” April had good reason to ask. Though they had all grown accustomed to the necessary discretion, nobody in their family knew the then nine-year-old had kept a closely-guarded secret for years, even from them.

  “We hope they can send the spirits away and we’ll be done with it.”

  “Forever? I doubt it!” Skeptical, Nancy said, “They’d come right back!”

  “Forever.” Carolyn’s optimism should’ve been as infectious as a common cold. From the reactions of her girls, she had some more convincing to do. “They’ll know what to do to cleanse the house and clear the stinky air!”

  “Clean us out? All of them?” There was real alarm in April’s voice.

  “They’ll think we’re nuts.” Christine shook her head in disbelief.

  “They will never believe us. I think Chris is right.” Nancy was still resistant. “I don’t want to tell them any of it. How do we know we can trust them? I’ve trusted friends who spread it all over town so I lost them then couldn’t make new ones for a long time. Only Katy really understands. She’s the only one I trust and she won’t even sleep
over anymore since the thing with the phone.”

  Carolyn never expected to encounter such opposition persuading her own girls to be forthcoming. Their reluctance was well-founded; they had all been victimized by it, one way or another, and didn’t want to make matters worse.

  “Mom.” Andrea was the observer in the family. She watched and listened carefully to everything and everyone. Carolyn paid equally close attention to her eldest, hoping she would shed new light on a dark subject.

  “I think it could be good to talk about it but the house has been very quiet. Maybe we shouldn’t stir things up. They’re listening to us right now. It’s like talking behind their backs right in front of their faces. It’s rude.”

  “They might not like us telling on them!” Nancy was right.

  “I know they won’t like it.” Cindy’s grim response was said as a whisper.

  “I’ve considered this and I’ll ask Mrs. Warren about it. I promise. If she’s concerned, we’ll skip the interview. Agreed?”

  Finally, the children were willing to follow their mother’s lead, save one. April reserved judgment, withholding further comment. Roger came home around 4:00 p.m. and the family had a normal dinner prior to the paranormal evening planned ahead. They did not discuss their pending visit or anything else regarding the Warrens. Instead, they gabbed about Johnny B’s good cap getting tossed out the window, something not-so-funny which happened that morning on Bus #10. It was as if they were preserving their collective energy for what lies ahead? The Warrens arrived promptly at 7:00 p.m. Roger was cordial enough, if a bit remote. Carolyn introduced him and quickly escorted Lorraine into the kitchen, the secluded spot to privately discuss these serious, even pivotal questions posed by her kids, leaving Ed behind with Roger.

  “This house has been quiet for months now and the girls like it that way. They’re afraid if they start talking about experiences, it will cause a reaction, create some new disturbances. Is that possible? Andrea thinks the spirits are listening to us all the time. It’s the reason why they’re afraid to offend them. Everything in our lives seems based on the fear of something.”