by Simon Archer
“Well, you see…” Andi’s voice trailed off. She looked back to Vila. “You tell him,” she whispered.
Vila started fidgeting with her hands and shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “Breakfast was a little crazy this morning, and then we were trying to figure out about Henry and Mary, and then we were talking about your wish…” Vila started rambling.
“Spit it out, ladies,” I told them, crossing my arms and tapping my foot with exaggerated impatience.
“As it turns out, we forgot to mention that you have plans this evening,” Andi finally revealed.
“I didn't make plans this evening, what are you talking about?” A small shiver crept down my spine. They were up to something, and it was always a toss-up whether or not it would turn out to be something I approved of.
“We kind of signed you up to attend a ghost tour tonight,” Vila spat out quickly. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she took a half step behind Andi.
“A ghost tour?” I asked curiously. “Why would I go on a ghost tour?” They never ceased to surprise me, but a ghost tour was a bit of a stretch from their normal surprises.
“Remember the charity dinner we went to last month to benefit art programs for local schools?” Andi asked me.
“Yes, I remember,” I said cautiously.
“Well, the nice man at the table next to us was telling us about this amazing theater that is supposed to be haunted,” she continued. “He was in the process of getting the permits allowing him to host tours to raise money for building renovations.”
“It sounds like he needs investors, not tourists,” I replied as I turned off my console. When I started walking towards the girls, they both walked backward out of the room, away from me.
“You see, he doesn’t want to renovate the building for profit,” Andi tried to explain. “He wants to fix the theater so that young, new artists can perform there again. The theater itself used to be one of the places where new playwrights had the opportunity to have their work seen. Several famous plays began on that stage.”
“That is all well and good,” I told her. “I still don’t see how I’m getting roped into one of these tours.” I continued to walk toward them, and they continued to back away. Their nervousness began to amuse me. Here they were, two very powerful, magical beings, and they looked as though I was about to bring the world crashing down around them.
“Well, the man was having a bit of a difficult time getting decent crowds to participate in his tours. So, we just thought that with your glorious reputation for supporting local charities, that if you attended, it might give his cause a little better traction,” Vila piped up, tossing in a bit of flattery. The two of them had backed themselves all the way into the foyer, and up against a wall, literally. I strolled over to them and stopped about a foot in front of their faces.
“So, you are pimping me out to a man I’ve never met, for a cause I know nothing about, so that my name may be used to raise more money for a building I’ve never been to?” I asked them in the most serious voice I could muster through the amusement I was feeling.
The girls stared up at me, eyes wide and speechless. They both opened their mouths to say something, but neither of them could get anything out. They glanced at each other and then back to me and finally simply started nodding their heads. I stood there for another long moment, creating as much awkwardness as I possibly could for them. Just as their faces showed the beginning stages of panic, I stepped back, shrugged my shoulders, and gave them a mischievous grin.
“Sounds good,” I said quickly, as though it was of no consequence at all. It wasn’t until I busted out in full-on laughter that the two of them realized that I was messing with them. The moment they did, however, both of them lunged forward and started swatting at my arms.
“I can’t believe you made us think that you were so mad!” Vila cried out, beginning to laugh herself.
“I was sure you were going to send us right back into your money clip and not let us out until you finally decided on another wish!” Andi added loudly.
“Girls! Girls! Calm down now. It’s all in good fun!” I barely got the words out through my laughter as they continued to pummel me lightly. A few moments later, I stopped my laughter suddenly, and I acted as though I was choking up. I threw my hand up in front of my mouth and gasped dramatically.
“Wait a minute, did you really think I would send you back into the money clip? I can’t believe you would think such a horrible thing about me! And here, this whole time, I thought you knew that I was a better friend than that!” I began pretending to sob.
Both girls stopped hitting me, and their mouths fell open.
“Oh, no! No! Of course, we know that you would never do that to us! I didn’t mean it!” Andi started backtracking her statement.
“But… but that’s what you said,” I whispered through fake sobs. “I just don’t know if I could possibly go now. I’m much too upset!” The ridiculousness of my statement made both girls stop and put their hands on their hips. They finally realized that I was still screwing with them.
“Bennett Alex Anders!” Vila yelled at me. It was the second time in two days that a woman had to use my full name against me. My pretend torment instantly turned back into laughter.
“You two can be so incredibly gullible sometimes!” I told them, having trouble getting the words out between howls of laughter.
The girls looked at each other and nodded once. They immediately turned back to me, reached out, and simultaneously punched me in each shoulder.
“Go get dressed, you insufferable slug!” Andi yelled at me. “And you’d better come down looking snazzy because a photographer will be there, and I won’t have you looking like the miscreant that you are!” Both girls stood like disapproving statues, each with one hand on her hip, and the other pointed up the stairs to the bedroom.
“Okay, okay!” I laughed back at them. “I’m going! How long do I have to get ready for this thing, anyway?”
“Twenty minutes,” they answered me in unison.
“See you in twenty!” I called back to them as I skipped up the stairs, basking in my success at aggravating them.
When I reached my bedroom, I stripped and jumped in the shower. Eighteen minutes later, I came back down the stairs, dressed and ready to go. The girls paused for a brief moment to evaluate my outfit. I had opted for light blue jeans and a casual, blood-red button-up. When it came to taking photographs, I had learned a few things in the past year. Since it was nighttime, and I was certain that the lighting would be dim. The lighter colored jeans would do well to make sure my bottom half didn’t fade into a dark background. I’d chosen the red shirt simply because I thought it was a great mood color for any haunted place, and it didn’t hurt that I looked fantastic in red. At least that is what Lottie told me every time I wore it.
My clothing choice passed inspection, and the girls shuffled me out the door to the car. Out of the three cars I owned, they had chosen the cherry-red Mustang. Vila must have been the one to pull it out of the garage since Andi, for some unknown reason, disliked driving. I held the doors open for each of them before taking my seat behind the wheel. I didn’t drive much myself since most of the places I went had something to do with work, so Glen took me. I found myself looking forward to driving the three of us to that evening.
It took us approximately thirty minutes to reach the address the girls had given me for the theater. When we arrived, I parked the car against the curb in front of a large sign sitting on an easel. The sign read “Dare to ‘PLAY’ with ghosts?” and had a large black arrow pointing toward the side of the building.
The street was dark, and there was very little traffic, but it still made me feel better that there was a parking attendant keeping an eye on the cars in front of the theater. The three of us got out of the car, and the girls immediately walked up on the sidewalk and stared up at the front of the building. When I caught up with them, I could understand why they were s
taring.
We were standing directly in front of the main entrance to the theater. The doors were boarded up, but I could still see that at one time they must have been magnificent. They were three times larger than a regular set of doors, and both were arched at the top. Individually carved stones set outside the door frame added to the grandeur of the entryway.
The rest of the front of the building was built with oversized, red bricks that seemed to stretch endlessly up into the night sky. On each side of the front, between the doors and the edge of the building, massive columns were recessed into the brick and stretched all the way from bottom to top. I had been in Victorian mansions where the columns weren’t even that large. There were vines carved along the columns, but they didn’t have leaves on them. Instead, there were vintage-looking drama masks where leaves would normally be. The finish on all of the masks, and the columns themselves, was peeling and cracked. In some places, entire chunks of stone had fallen away.
Regardless of the damage and dirt that covered it, the front of the building was breathtaking and still in good enough shape that its potential to be restored to greatness was apparent. If I’d had any doubts about whether or not to lend a hand towards its renovation, they were gone. The three of us just stood there and stared until I heard footsteps approaching us. I looked to my right just as a smiling young gentleman wearing a black suit walked up to us.
“She’s easy to look at, isn’t she?” he commented, tipping his head toward the building face.
“She makes it very easy to imagine what she once was,” I replied, glancing back to the building.
“My goal is to one day restore her and end the need for people to use their imaginations in such a manner,” the man added.
I turned to him just as he held his hand out to shake.
“Lance Wenlow,” he introduced himself. I shook his hand and took note of his being younger than I expected.
“Bennett Anders, it’s nice to meet you,” I replied. Lance had a firm grip and a pleasant demeanor about him.
“Yes, Bennett, I’m familiar with several of your philanthropic endeavors. I truly appreciate your attendance this evening,” he said sincerely. “I apologize for the unconventional manner in which you’ve ended up with us tonight. Andi called me less than an hour ago and announced that you would be arriving shortly.”
I shook my head and couldn’t help but smile. I had to give Andi and Vila props for their maneuvering. They’d said they had made plans for me, not that I was actually scheduled to be somewhere. I hadn’t picked up on the slight difference.
“Regardless of how, I am happy to be here,” I told Lance. “Will the explanation of your plans to renovate be explained during the tour, or should I attempt to pry some details out of you beforehand?”
“No need to talk your ear off twice,” Lance chuckled. “I’ll explain everything as we move along.”
Vila and Andi stepped to my sides, and Lance nodded his head towards each of them.
“Lance! It’s so good to see you again!” Vila said cheerily.
“Vila, Andi, it is good to see you both as well,” Lance greeted them. “Thank you for lending support to my little adventure here.” Whereas most men I’d met when the girls were present would be instantly distracted by their beauty, Lance maintained an optimal amount of professionalism and returned his focus to me. I instantly liked him.
“Show us the way,” I told him. I was actually looking forward to the tour by then. Lance spun around, and we followed him around the corner of the building to a small group of visitors waiting for the tour to begin. There were only nine people, aside from us, participating in the tour.
“I’m so excited to see the ghosts!” Andi squealed quietly beside me.
“Me too!” Vila echoed. It was fun to see how much they looked forward to the tour. I lean down so that I could speak to them without being heard.
“How many of these tours does Lance do every week?” I asked them.
“Five, I think,” Andi answered. “Why do you ask?”
“This building is going to take well over a million dollars to fix up. With only five tours a week, it will take Lance years to raise that kind of money,” I replied.
“Yes, it will,” Vila said sadly. “Lance realizes that, but his heart is set on it. That is why Andi and I thought that your being here may help his chances of speeding up the process a little bit.”
“Have there been any reviews about the quality of the tour?” I whispered.
“Only a few, but they were all very positive,” Vila informed me. I straightened back up, knowing that I wanted to help the man that reaches goals. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a short text message.
“Who are you texting?” Andi whispered, waving her hand for me to put my phone away.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, exaggeratedly waving a hand back at her.
“Shush, you two! The tour is starting!” Vila scolded us quietly.
Sure enough, just as we quieted down, Lance stepped in front of our small crowd and began his introductory speech.
6
“Luna Bell is a name that is seldom heard in conjunction with famous playwrights and their most successful productions,” Lance began, sounding official and informative. Then his voice grew louder, commanding attention. “Yet… a good number of those productions were first seen inside this building behind me!” He trailed off as he raised an arm to direct the group’s attention to the large stone wall behind him. He forcefully dropped his arm and then slowly held his fingers up to his chin. His expression became thoughtful, and he continued.
“Why would the creators of those productions,” he continued, gaining volume and power in his tone, “the ones who had their first taste of recognition and celebration within those walls, hide the fact that their journey to fame began right here?” He spread his arms wide in front of himself and stepped aside, revealing a small, tattered wooden door behind him. “Follow me through this door as we seek to understand…”
The group members whispered amongst themselves with excited anticipation that grew with each of Lance’s words. He reached down and slowly turned the doorknob, pausing for dramatic effect before pushing the door open. He stepped inside and disappeared into the dark for a moment. Then, only his face reappeared into the light, staring at us. He jerked his head up, signaling that it was all clear to follow him in.
One by one, the tourists hesitantly stepped through the doorway, holding their lanterns out in front of them to light their way. The girls and I were the last ones in. We found ourselves standing in a large, square room with a ceiling so low I could touch it without even fully extending my arm.
The crowd had fallen silent as they strained to see around them. The only light was from the now-eerie glow of lanterns. Small clouds puffed up around our feet with each step we took as we walked through sixty years of settled dust. Broken, fallen wooden stools were littered about the room. The only other piece of furniture present was a long, sagging wooden table on the wall to our left. It was like the past had just swallowed us, and goosebumps instantly covered my arms. The only indication that the room had been seen within the last six decades was the footprints left by those who had attended the tour before us. Even those, however, added another level of creepiness of the room.
Once everyone had moved to the middle, Lance stopped and turned to face us just as a faint creaking sounded out behind us. Everyone turned around in time to see the door we’d recently passed through slowly closing. As soon as all eyes were riveted on it, the door slammed shut, causing each and every person there, myself included, to jump back and let out a mild yelp.
“Fear not the door,” Lance said softly. “It is merely ensuring you stay long enough to learn the truth…” His voice trailed off again, and I found myself admiring his command of intonation. He knew just how to raise and lower his voice to enhance the eeriness of the tour.
Once we all had calmed ourselves and refocused on him, he cont
inued the speech he’d started outside.
“What is the truth, though?” he asked the crowd in a whisper. He waited for everyone to shake their heads before continuing, adding volume to his voice. “It has been rumored that fear is what caused the successful to be silent. Ahh, but what did they fear, you ask? Were they scared that misfortune would befall their productions?” He spun around, held his arms out wide, and began nearly yelling. “Were they worried that patrons would flee for fear of reliving that horrible, fateful last act?” He stopped spinning and crouched forward, facing us as his voice pitched low and ominous. “Or were they simply terrified that the spirits of those involved in Luna’s tragic final production would seek them out…? Perhaps looking for a taste of the fame they never had a chance to experience themselves?” He trailed off as he stood straight once again.
“You’ll have to let me know what you think the answer is after our little adventure through the past concludes. The only thing I know is that you will leave here and go about your lives, changed in ways you can’t imagine…”
Lance turned around and walked to the far wall of the room where he pointed out two panes of glass that were so filthy, none of us had seen that they were there. They looked to be just another part of the wall.
“Welcome to the box office!” Lance bowed deep as though he spoke for the room itself. “The last play-goers to look through from the other side of this glass had no idea they would be attending Luna’s final production.” He moved to his right and took hold of a doorknob that, once again, none of us had seen. As he pushed open a door, even smaller than the first, he lowered his voice. “They had no idea they were picking up tickets for a first-row seat to the gruesome deaths of five cast members.”
As the people of our group whispered their shock and awe, we started moving toward the door until a middle-aged woman in the center of our group screamed.