Landlocked Lighthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1)

by Mixi J Applebottom

  I would need more supplies, to make it any farther. So I closed up the door, reminding myself that this, this house, was indeed my house, and I would have to explore it later. With a mask. And a broom if I was lucky. I carefully unloaded the cart into the big three-car garage. The garage was, for some unknown reason, perfectly swept out. I called for the children and I heard giggling. I walked around the side of the house and saw them in a garden. The garden had two large lion bushes (admittedly they needed attending to, wild rogue branches growing out their eyes and such), and between the two bushes Tony and Annabelle sat giggling hysterically.

  “What are you two giggling at?” I said and then plopped myself next to them in the circle.

  Tony frowned. “We were talking to the rock man.”

  I scooted to the side. “Where is he?”

  Annabelle laughed harder, “He left when you came! He thinks you’re creepy.”

  Tony giggled too, and soon we were all giggling about nothing as far as I could tell.

  “We need to go back to the farm and pack some more things.”

  Tony leapt to his feet, and Annabelle stood too. “I cannot wait to live here Mama!” Annabelle skipped to the cart as though there was nothing else in the world more wonderful. Tony climbed up beside her and they sat happily together, grins and giggles.

  I found our big old horse and untied her legs. She seemed ready to go and energized and she trotted home with enthusiasm. I felt she was also excited that this was the new home.

  When we pulled up, it was just getting dusky and Husband was sitting on the porch looking angry. I lifted the kids down and they both scurried inside. “Hi.” I said tentatively; the hairs on the back of my neck stood tall.

  He flexed his right hand open and shut over and over and his body shivered with fury. “Your damn dog killed the chickens.” He shot her. That was the thought that rang in my ears. Zippy, that lovely mutt. Her brains scattered to the wind. Before I could even figure out what to say, he continued, “What the hell are we gonna eat now?” His voice cracked. What I had thought was rage was just that endless defeat. That heavy burden we carried. This farm. This farm with all its bills. All its troubles. This heart-breaking, soul-crushing farm.

  Finally I found my voice. “Did you shoot her?”

  His angry, teary eyes looked up at me. “Hell, I should have.”

  And that was that. Zippy lived another day. The chickens did not. We both knew that she killed them because she’s hungry too. We were hungry people in a tough spot.

  I told him about getting the truck off the side of the road and up to our new house. He barely acknowledged me and instead went to bed. That man couldn’t take any more of this. I tucked my two brilliant children into their beds and Annabelle said something exciting, “Mama? Did you see all the strawberries in the garden? I ate the ones I could reach, but I couldn’t reach very many.”

  “Strawberries?” I envisioned myself saddling the old horse and racing down there to eat them.

  Tony said, “Hey! I told you not to tell her!”

  “It’s okay, I won’t steal them from you.” I whispered to my children and kissed them both goodnight.

  3

  I wish I could say I scurried to get the strawberries in the morning, but instead my realtor stopped by. She wanted to do an open house tomorrow afternoon. I protested, but she just got more excited saying she had a long stream of people walking around looking at farms. The next few days were a blur as I had showing after showing after showing. I cleaned and spruced and hid any mess. I bathed the children twice a day and curled both my and Annabelle’s hair. I brushed the horse and the dog and tried my hardest to look like a perfect family. “You’ll be happy here; even better than that, you’ll be rich!” That was the feeling I hoped to convey to the new owners.

  But new owners did not come. Not even one offer. Suddenly the week flew past, then a month, exhausting showing after showing. I felt like I was running a month long marathon I accidentally signed up for.

  One morning I was free, there were no showings that day, and nothing pressing I had to do. Annabelle ran up and said with such great enthusiasm, “Strawberries!?” And I relented.

  I packed up a picnic lunch (an apple each and a single slice of bologna) and then I loaded up the little horse cart with boxes. This time, I remembered a broom, and I grabbed an extra shirt to tie around my face. I would see the inside of that house, so help me.

  The kids were giddy. We sang, “She’ll be Coming ‘Round the Mountain” with great loud enthusiasm as our big, dumb, old horse dragged the cart down the road. I was mesmerized by how glorious I felt. The only thing that could make this moment better would be if big Tony, Husband would show up with an actual smile. When we got there I unpacked the cart in a hurry, the children ran off to find strawberries, and I left our mare hobbled and nibbling at weeds. I quickly tied the shirt to my face as an impromptu dust mask and grabbed the broom.

  The lion doors practically roared opened as I swung them with such excitement. Dust swirled up into the air and I glowed with pride. There was a beautiful set of stairs, and a few doors to rooms I couldn’t wait to explore. I set to grinning and singing as I swept out the first room. I hoped this would be the worst of it. This room here should be the one with the most dirt I figured. After all, it probably came through those doors. A dust storm or something. As I pushed more and more dirt out the front door, I wondered how on earth so much dirt had even gotten in a house like this. Did someone dump a truck full of sand in the foyer? The more I swept the bigger and bigger the pile outside of the house was getting.

  Finally, I stopped and called the children. I hadn’t even made it past the front entry; yes, it was a grand old entry with carved wooden staircases and beautiful bookshelves. The pile of dirt I had swept out of it was enormous. It was, in fact, taller than Annabelle (but not quite taller than Tony). How did that dirt even get in the house?

  I shook my head confusedly and then crunched into my apple. The two kids were sitting close on the steps, scarfing down their slices of bologna. “Mama, this is the best bologna I have ever tasted!”

  I couldn’t help but grin. Children were so strange. “Did you find your strawberries?”

  “I found a rock.” Annabelle said and held out her hand. It was, indeed, a rock.

  Tony said, “I forgot about strawberries because I was fighting a lion!”

  I nodded and smiled. I looked up at the sun and it was already sliding down the sky. Sheesh, it was probably two or three in the afternoon. Hadn’t I been determined to search the house? How many bedrooms did it even have? The kids ran off to play as I stuffed my mouth full of bologna. I left the broom by the massive pile of dirt. Time to explore! No more cleaning.

  Once inside, I saw my shirt hanging on the stair railing. I picked it up, ready to walk up the stairs, but as soon as I took the first step, I saw the broom lying on the floor. I took it and set it out by the dirt pile. I was struck with this odd sense of dejavu. Probably I had been working too hard. I dropped my shirt dust mask and stepped back through the lion doors. It wasn’t exactly clean yet. But I had made a lot of progress. The medallion on the floor had two large lions. It looked remarkably like the crest of a shield. I walked up the stairs to find the bedrooms and turned and stared back down. Yes, it did look less dusty. I hadn’t even sneezed. Crap, I left that broom on the floor. I’d hate for someone to trip on it.

  I walked down the stairs and grabbed the broom. Then I shut the doors, locking them and called the kids to load them up in the cart. The old horse was already standing right next to it and harnessing her seemed easier than ever. We were singing “Row Row Row Your Boat” on the way home when Annabelle asked me, “Is my bedroom going to be next to Tony’s?” And I realized I still didn’t know a thing about the bedrooms. I hadn’t even walked past the foyer.

  Husband was all smiles when we got home and he kissed me soundly on the lips. “I got a job offer.”

  I cheered immediately. It was dou
ble his salary. Double our groceries, double our fun! We had a rowdy night of laughter and making out long after the kids were asleep. It wasn’t until the morning that he told me he was leaving. Six hours over the mountains. He promised he could come over on weekends, but that seemed farfetched at most. But it was too late to change anything now. Two days later, he kissed the three of us goodbye and vanished.

  That first day without Husband, I got an offer on the farm. I looked at the tree in the field and said a quick goodbye. Then I started the real moving. Suzie’s husband was strong and tough. He was one of those farmers you would imagine in your bed. I called him and begged him for the favor of helping move our home. There wasn’t much left; three dressers, a kitchen table, and three beds. It was more than the old horse could carry. Or me, for that matter. He showed up with a few men I had never met. They had everything loaded and moved to the garage at the new house before I had even said hello. I swept out the nine-hundred-fifty-square-feet and cleaned the bathroom carefully. I paused at the bathroom door, remembering the moment it fell, and my broken pinky toe and those bright angry toddler eyes. How they accused me. Good riddance to you farm.

  I loaded up Zippy, and the kids in the cart and I realized this was it. Say goodbye kids. We’ll never have a farm again. We didn’t sing this time. In fact Tony said, “Why isn’t Dad home for this? Doesn’t he want to say goodbye to the old tree?” I didn’t know the answer. We had not spoken since he left and I was quite confused myself on this matter. We had no phone. Maybe he would be here next weekend?

  When we rode up to the house, this time, the lights were on. That was the first thing I noticed. The big lighthouse tower was bright and bold. I unhooked the cart from the horse and let her go. Hopefully she would come when I called. Who had turned on the lights? Worse, how much electricity did they burn? On the door, pinned to one of the lion’s feet, was a note, “Sorry we couldn’t stick around. We put your stuff in your garage.”

  How would I even get it up to the rooms? I supposed for tonight at least, either they would sleep in the garage on their beds or on the floor.

  4

  We curled together on a blanket in the foyer. It was, indeed, impossible for me to lift any of the beds or dressers. I had spent a good hour trying to drag them out of the garage, but I just couldn’t seem to move them any farther. I wore out quickly, and I told the kids we would just sleep in the foyer like we were camping. Tony was very excited. We snuggled in on the pile of blankets, and he curled up into one of my arms. Annabelle pouted and rolled away from us.

  Tony said, “Mama, will you tell me a story?”

  “Not tonight, honey.”

  Annabelle pouted, arms crossed, still not turning towards us. She was laying right on the center of the lion medallion in the floor.

  “Please, Mama?” he said.

  “What story did you want?”

  “Tell me about Griffin and Eira! I want to know them.” He said.

  “I don’t know who you mean.”

  Annabelle burst into tears. “Don’t talk about them! I don’t want to hear it!”

  The blood rushed through my ears and my shirt felt sticky with sweat. “Who are Griffin and Eira?”

  “I don’t think they want you to go upstairs. They don’t like you Mama.” Tony said and fell asleep.

  Annabelle crawled into my arms. “Don’t say anything of them. Don’t say a word.” Her body trembled against mine.

  “I’m sure…” I started, but she was out like a light. What were they talking about?

  I pressed my arms tight around them and listened to the house. The faint bells of a clock chimed nine times. I wondered where in this crazy house it could be, right before I fell asleep, wedged between the two children on a blanket on the floor.

  5

  It was a wonderful thing to sleep in such a delicious bed. Moving must have done this old lumpy mattress some good. I kept my eyes shut and stretched out my arms and legs and then curled back into a snuggly little ball. The sheets danced like liquid silk around my naked body. I heard the soft giggling of my two perfect children nearby and I cracked open my eyes.

  I felt strange, like something was out of place. That odd nagging whisper like perhaps I had left my curling iron on. I opened my eyes wondering what it might be. My room was very much the same, as far as I could tell. The sheets were a dark crimson color and the bright white comforter was covered in lacy ruffles. The fine mahogany bed had large lions carved into the headboard.

  Everything seemed the same as always. I glanced around and nothing was left out. Not even a single thing out anywhere. My bedroom looked like a pristine hotel room.

  I froze. It was that moment when a word waits on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite find it. Something about last night, something about… something. I wrinkled my nose with annoyance. I wished I could remember.

  Tony and Annabelle burst in through the doors. “Thank you, Mama!” They sang out in perfect unison. I grinned.

  “My room is perfect! You are such a tricker person! Did you wait until we fell asleep to move us?” Annabelle gushed with excitement. I frowned, uncertain what she was talking about.

  Tony climbed up on my bed. “Mama, my bed was softer then a trampoline!” He hugged me, with his little boy body over the comforter.

  I remembered that under these sheets, I wore nothing. “All right, children, run along now. I have to get dressed…” They both scurried out of the room like mice. I stood up and my body ached, probably from trying to drag this bed in here all night. But then it struck me. I stared at this bed with its crimson sheets and the large mahogany carved lions in the headboard. Wasn’t my bed plain and made out of pine? Didn’t I make the headboard from an old pallet? The longer I stared at the lion’s perfect mane the more uncertain hairs rose on my neck. I searched my mind and found a small memory of carving knives and slow, steady hands molding the wood into that mane. Was this what I had made?

  I turned to the wardrobe and opened it. Inside, a single perfect dress hung. It fit me like a glove, its long, swishing skirt just missing the floor. At the neckline it had a small cutout of a heart lined with a dark red piping. The arms fit smooth and snug, stopping just before my elbow. It was absolutely exotic. To my delight as I walked out of my room the soft swishing of the skirt let out a sweet vanilla aroma. I stepped out of my bedroom and paused by the elevator. I stared ahead into the kitchen and wondered if there would be waffles for breakfast.

  Tony dug his elbow into my ribs and I groaned with the pain. There was a dark scent of rot. The thick stench crawled up me. I sat up with a quick twist and it was dark.

  Something about this dream bothered me. It was more like a memory and less like a figment. In fact, I had to pinch myself and determine if now was real or if this was the dream. I stood up and Annabelle and Tony curled around each other for warmth. I tucked the old quilted comforter around their skinny bodies. It was quite dark, but that pungent scent of rot had already passed by. Maybe Tony had just farted so rancid that it woke me, I mused.

  It was hard to tell what time it was, but it was early, three or four. I didn’t bother much with clocks or watches, as I rarely had anything to do at a certain time. Feed the chickens, every day, but whenever you get to it. The chickens.

  A twinge of sorrow pained me. I wouldn’t have any eggs to eat today because of that dumb Zippy. Where was she? I stepped outside the lion doors and called her. She came running, whimpering as if perhaps she had just met a coyote too big for her to handle. She shivered when she stood between my legs, her teeth bared at the night outside. I closed the giant mahogany lion doors. They must have been the reason I dreamt of that bed. Zippy did not settle down. She whimpered and whined and danced around, looked back and forth with wild eyes. I petted her head and her back and after about ten minutes, she finally settled. Her trembling body stopped. I could feel something wet under her neck, but it was too dark to see much. Whatever beast she tangled with must have hurt her. Ah well, I would check i
t in the light.

  I wondered for a moment if there were any flashlights in the kitchen. Perhaps an old one left in a drawer. I turned to walk towards it, that same path I went on the first day when I bought this crazy house for next to nothing. As I turned to walk in that direction, I suddenly had an overwhelmingly strong desire to curl back in the blanket and sleep a few more hours. I stood, right on the edge of the foyer, teetering back and forth; bed or flashlight. My hair blew back just slightly, and with a hot breeze, it was over. It was like I saw the room for the very first time. In fact, with the light starting to peek in the windows, it was more like six in the morning. Had I stood and waited, frozen in indecision for hours, or had I just guessed the wrong time? The sun crawled out of its bunk and yawned at the world.

  But this room. It was clean. I had spent all that time sweeping it out, and I guess I had finished. The floor was a gorgeous gleaming marble. At the center, under the children was an elegant gold-lined crest with two lions. They were on the floor in multicolored marbles made in the same way stained glass would be, I supposed. Even the chandelier, which was gold and sparkled in the tiny sunlight, didn’t have a speck of dust on it. The ceiling was painted with gargoyles in a massive battle.

  Staring at the light roused my brain, and I realized I didn’t need a flashlight; a simple switch would do. I could see one on the wall and I walked over to flip it but hesitated. Why wake the children? Let’s go find that kitchen and see if I can make food appear. I turned back toward the banquet, wondering if a sudden desire to sleep would hit me again, but nothing. I stumbled through the dining room in the dark, running my fingers along the wall, but I did not find a single switch. Once I made it past the catering kitchen, I came to the room where the auction had been held, the proper kitchen. I didn’t need to flip a light switch because this room was glowing with sunlight. The thinnest layer of dust was in here. Nothing like the hall had been. I checked under the kitchen sink and was pleased to see a neat stack of cloths, and several bottles of cleaning supplies. The things people miss when they move out. I ran a sink full of hot water and a smidge of soap and slowly wiped down each counter.