The Haunting of Waverly Hall

by Michael Richan

  Eliza closed her eyes and thought of the image of Gloria once again. When she was ready, she opened her eyes and called.

  Gloria!

  She watched as the image of a thin, frail woman materialized in front of her. She had long, stringy hair, and a sunken, pale face.

  Gloria? Eliza asked.

  You see what it did to me, the frail woman said, the words barely audible. It broke me. It ruined me. She lifted up her thin arms into a crucifixion pose, her hands dangling, her eyes closing as her head rolled back on her neck.

  What Scray did to you, he’s doing to me, Eliza said, hoping to win Gloria’s sympathy.

  She saw Gloria’s eyes slowly open. He found someone new?

  I was tricked into it, Eliza said.

  Poor, poor girl, Gloria said, lowering her arms. If I could give you a knife, I would.

  A knife?

  To kill yourself, Gloria replied. Do it now, before you do something you will forever regret.

  I think I’d forever regret killing myself, Eliza said.

  There are worse things, Gloria replied, turning from her. She felt Gloria retreating, and was afraid of losing her before she was able to really converse with her.

  Wait! Eliza called. Gloria! I need to talk to you.

  Gloria’s retreat stopped. She turned. I would like to go back to sleep, Gloria said. It’s not peaceful sleep, but it’s better than being awake. When I sleep, I forget.

  I need you to remember, Eliza said. I need to know what happened. How did Scray conscript you?

  Lies, Gloria replied. So many lies, over so many years.

  What did he lie about?

  His age, Gloria replied, smiling. He told me he was my age. I was just a girl then. I believed anything.

  He lied to you about his age? Where, at the hall?

  Yes, Gloria replied, her eyes drifting away as she recalled what had happened. He invited me downstairs. All of our parents were dancing, not really keeping track of us; as long as we were in the hall, they figured we were safe. Like a church social. She laughed. Nothing bad ever happens at a church social, does it?

  He invited you downstairs? Eliza prompted.

  He looked like he was my age, she recalled. I was excited to follow him down. It felt like we were getting away with something, stealing away into a part of the hall we weren’t supposed to be in. She drifted off.

  What happened? Eliza asked.

  It was a lie, she resumed. He wasn’t my age. He was much, much older.

  What did he do to you? Eliza asked.

  Gloria’s eyes centered on her. Exactly what he did to you. Do you remember it?

  No, Eliza said. I passed out.

  But you feel it now, right?

  Yes, Eliza replied.

  I passed out, too. My parents found me later that evening, at our house. They were angry with me that I’d run off from the dance without telling them, but since all I’d done was go home, they didn’t punish me. I couldn’t recall ever leaving the hall. I just remembered the huge, black wings passing over me.

  Eliza shivered at the same memory. He infected us with something.

  Yes, Gloria said wistfully, her gaze turning to some spot beyond Eliza. It was disconcerting to talk to her as she stared past her. Then the pain began, and the compulsion.

  You fed them? Eliza asked. You killed people?

  I didn’t want to, Gloria replied. The pain grows and grows until you can’t stand it anymore. You realize it’s their pain, and if you don’t feed them, you’ll wind up eating like they do — on the flesh of other people. I tried it once, when I was wondering which was worse; killing to feed them, or killing to feed myself.

  You ate one of the bodies you prepared for them? Eliza asked.

  Just a bite, Gloria replied. I wanted to know if it would work, if it would lessen the pain. It didn’t. I still felt the craving and the hunger. The only way to reduce the agony was to feed them. That’s when it went away, until the next new moon.

  There’s a new moon in a couple of days, Eliza said.

  You’ll feed them, Gloria said. At first you’ll think you can survive it, that you can resist it. I tried. You have no idea how incredibly agonizing it becomes. Eventually you’ll give up and kill someone and feed it to them, just to make the hunger go away.

  There must be some way to stop it, Eliza said.

  A weak smile spread across Gloria’s pale, sunken face. Yes, that’s what I used to think. More lies. So many, many lies.

  What lies? Eliza asked. Tell me, Gloria. I need to know.

  Most of the time I went for people I didn’t know, Gloria said. I could trap them and hold them for a while, until I absolutely had to kill them. Then I’d piece them out to the hall. I could make a body last for several months, storing it at the red brick store. Peter was so kind; he let me use a room there.

  I’ve seen the room, Eliza said. I can’t believe the bodies didn’t decompose.

  They did, a little, Gloria replied. Something about passing them through the first gateway helped with the rotting. When I took the meat through the second gateway to the hall it was transformed anyway.

  You carried the body parts to the hall in that pail? Eliza asked.

  Yes.

  Weren’t you afraid someone would see you?

  No. I always did it very late at night. The arrival of the meat at the hall put the ghosts into a frenzy. I had to do it when no one was around.

  I found the remnants of the cage in your barn, Eliza said. You used to trap people there? Hold them?

  Later on, Gloria replied. After I used up most of the townspeople, I had to get more creative about kidnapping. Sometimes it was easier to capture two or three at a time. I’d keep them in the cage until I needed them.

  Didn’t your family catch on? Eliza asked.

  They were all gone by the time I installed the cage, Gloria replied. My parents had died; they’re buried on the land. My brother moved back east. My sister wouldn’t leave the house; I wound up killing her and feeding her to them. Eventually I had the place all to myself.

  You killed your own sister? Eliza asked.

  Hard to imagine, isn’t it? After you’ve killed dozens of people, it comes easier, especially when they annoy you. She was very annoying.

  But your own family! Eliza replied, incredulous.

  That’s not the half of it, Gloria replied. Killing Amy wasn’t so hard. Not like killing… she trailed off.

  Who?

  Gloria let a heavy sigh escape. I told you I tried to get it to stop.

  Yes.

  I met someone. Someone who seemed to know what was going on, and how to solve things.

  Yes? Who?

  I never knew his name. He didn’t tell me.

  How did you meet him?

  In the hall, Gloria replied.

  The hall? I thought Scray and his followers had the hall.

  There’s more in the hall than just Scray.

  What? Who?

  Gloria glanced away. I had been feeding them for quite some time, and I was desperate for a way out. I’d killed many people, and it seemed as if the routine of it was going to drive me mad. One evening, when I had brought the meat to the hall, I felt something different; there was another presence in the hall. Something powerful, not like Scray and the others.

  Yes? Eliza prompted.

  He was upstairs. I found him in a room on the top floor.

  Who?

  I never learned his name. I could feel his power, though. He was tall and thin, and at first he ignored me. There was something about him that told me he could help; that he knew what was happening at the hall, and what had happened to me. I pleaded with him to help me find a way to end the compulsion. I was desperate. I begged him. At first he wouldn’t give me the time of day, but the more I pleaded with him, the less resistant he became, until eventually he told me how to end it.

  He did? Eliza asked, enraptured with Gloria’s story. How?

  He told me the only way to b
reak the compulsion was to kill off Scray and his followers, and the only way to kill them was to feed them tainted meat.

  Tainted meat? Eliza repeated, the idea immediately resonating in her mind as a possibility to end her own entrapment. How? How would you taint the meat?

  He said that feeding them the flesh of someone I loved would kill them, Gloria replied, her voice choking. I rejected the idea the moment he said it, but as time went on, it weighed on me.

  Peter, Eliza said, remembering the ghost in the upstairs room at the red brick store. You killed him. You loved him?

  I did. She paused. I suppose I planned it. I didn’t secure a body, even though I knew the new moon was coming. When it did, I found myself almost on automatic, walking to the store to find him and kill him so I could end the compulsion. He was so mild about it. He knew I was in hell; he called it my ‘madness’. I think he gave himself up to me, really, wanting it to be over for both of us. She paused.

  Eliza wanted to encourage her to continue, but she could tell Gloria would pick up the story once she gathered herself and her thoughts.

  It was a lie, Gloria said, what the tall man told me about feeding them tainted flesh. He made a fool of me. I killed Peter, chopped him into parts, and took him to the hall. Nothing changed. It was a trick to get me to eliminate the only remaining supportive person I had around me, to cement my role as Scray’s feeder. I fell for it.

  That’s horrible! Eliza said.

  So, if I could give you a knife, would you kill yourself now? Gloria asked. Would you?

  Eliza struggled with a response. I don’t know.

  For years after Peter I kept feeding them, but my desire to live kept draining. I sought help from other people, but most of them were too scared to become involved, and the ones that did didn’t know what to do. I decided to starve myself, and that’s how I ended it. An emaciated shell of a person they found dead on my bed.

  I’m so sorry, Eliza said. I really am.

  It’s more peaceful now, Gloria said. I still have the guilt of all the people I killed, but I temper that with the idea that I was forced into it. It may not be justifiable, but it lets me sleep. When I can’t sleep, it’s because of Peter.

  He’s still a ghost, you know, Eliza said. I ran into him in the store. I saw the moment when you killed him.

  It was an emotional death, Gloria said wistfully. It was filled with conflict and intense sadness. It doesn’t surprise me that he lingers.

  In all the time you searched for a way to end things, Eliza asked, did anything seem to be the right approach? Was there anything that seemed the most promising? I don’t really know where to start.

  I was skittish about solutions after Peter, Gloria said, particularly when it involved advice from others. The one thing that always made the most sense to me was eliminating the gateways. I worried that taking them down would still leave me with the compulsion, but no way to satisfy it — if the gateways were destroyed, I wouldn’t be able to feed them anymore. If I still had the compulsion and they were down, I’d be in eternal agony. No one I consulted was able to assure me it would work. I never had the courage to try it.

  You think the gateways could have been taken down? Eliza asked. Destroyed somehow?

  I do, Gloria said. I just don’t know the consequences of it. I was exploring how, but got stuck on some aspect of it; I don’t remember exactly what it was. I became discouraged, and in the end I found it easier to just let myself perish. I didn’t want to risk having the compulsion forever with no way to relieve it. Of all the things I went through, the days I tried to resist the hunger were the worst. I can’t describe to you how painful it was. Gloria stepped toward her and looked her in the eyes. When you experience it, you’ll know, and you’ll understand how I could do what I did. My best advice to you is to find a knife, my dear, and plunge it deep into your heart. Do it soon, before you indulge it, before you do something you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for.

  She faded and was gone.

  Eliza felt stunned. She sensed Granger’s trance collapsing, and moments later the warmth of the sun hit her back and neck. She looked down; an ant was crawling over the denim on her knee. She brushed it off.

  “You heard all that?” she said.

  “I did,” Granger replied.

  “What a horrible story,” Eliza said. “I feel so sorry for her.”

  “It’s you I’m worried about,” Granger replied. “If we don’t do something, that’ll be your story soon.”

  Robert’s hand appeared in front of her face, offering her a lift. She grabbed it, and he pulled her from the ground. Granger rose and swatted at the couple of ants who had made their way onto his pants.

  “What now?” Robert asked.

  “I think we need to pursue the gateway angle,” Granger replied. “Gloria said it made sense to her; it makes sense to me, too.”

  “What about the gateways?” Robert asked.

  “Take them down,” Granger replied.

  “Gloria said she was concerned about destroying them,” Eliza said, “because she was afraid of having no way to relieve the hunger.”

  “I’m not saying we do it,” Granger replied. “I think we need to explore it and see what’s involved. Maybe in the process we can find a way to bring down the gateways and still ensure your safety.”

  “I can’t see anything wrong with exploring it,” Eliza said. “I’m just not sure I want to destroy them until we’re sure.”

  “She scared you,” Granger said.

  “Damn right she did!” Eliza replied.

  “I understand,” Granger said. “Let’s get to a phone. I want to make a call to John Smoke.”

  “He said he wouldn’t come here to help us,” Robert replied, as they turned to walk back toward the farmhouse.

  “But he said he would help,” Granger said. “I don’t need him to come here. If these gateways were constructed by a shaman, maybe John can help us understand how one might destroy them, or undo them. If he doesn’t know, maybe he can connect us up with someone who does.”

  “Worth a shot,” Robert replied.

  “After the phone,” Eliza said, “I want to go back to the hall.”

  “The hall?” Robert asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Eliza replied. “After talking with Gloria, I’ve got a much better picture of what’s going on here, and I think interrogating Scray might shed more light on things.”

  “Interrogating?” Granger asked. “I thought you said he’d eat you if you showed up without food!”

  “I believed him at the time,” Eliza replied, “but not now. Gloria said everything was lies, and I think she’s right. I understand his motivation now. He’s not going to do anything to me; I’m his ticket to food. What he wants more than anything else is for me to step into Gloria’s role and feed him and his followers for the next fifty years. The last thing he’ll do is risk that, regardless of the threats.”

  “You’re sure?” Robert asked.

  “Hell no,” Eliza replied. “I just think it’s worth a shot.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The closest phone they could find was in Berlin, about fifteen minutes away. After Granger made the call and John agreed to do some research, they picked up food and drove back to Waverly and the Grignon farm. The sun was beginning to set.

  Robert parked the car at the end of the driveway that led to the farmhouse, and they walked the rest of the way.

  “We should check on Lee tonight,” Eliza said, “on our way back to Madison.”

  “Poor guy,” Granger replied. “I wonder how he’s taking to modern life.”

  “He probably feels like he’s still in a nightmare,” Robert replied, “the way he was glued to that television.”

  They approached the front door of the farmhouse. Eliza walked through the threshold while in the River, then turned around and came back out while Granger and Robert waited on the porch.

  “I’d really feel better about this if you’d le
t at least one of us come along,” Robert said.

  “Absolutely not,” Eliza replied. “I don’t think they’ll do anything to me, but if you pass through both gateways, there’s no reason to think they’d do anything to you other than kill you on the spot and start dining.”

  Robert didn’t reply, but Eliza could hear him gulp.

  They walked back to the car, and Robert drove through the streets of Waverly until they came to the red brick store. He parked in front, and Eliza walked up to the door, removing her lockpicking tools. Having already picked the lock once, she had it open again within seconds.

  “I need to learn how to do that,” Robert said. “You make it look so easy.”

  She pushed the door open and walked inside, then turned. Dropping into the River, she walked back out, feeling the power inside her multiply and organize. She felt strong.

  The drips on the ground became visible again — ghostly remnants of Gloria’s bucket, filled with chopped body parts, dripping blood on her walk to the hall. She dropped out of the River and looked at Granger and Robert.

  “I’m walking to the hall,” she said. “It isn’t more than a few hundred yards. You can follow, but promise me you’ll stay outside.”

  “We will,” Granger replied, before Robert could say anything.

  She marched forward, following the path of blood through the meadow that separated the store from the hall. The grass was tall and unmowed, making each step slow. Soon the hall came into view, looking still and silent, its windows dark, not betraying the horrors inside.

  “I’m going to drop into the River and enter the hall while staying out here,” she said. “You’ll watch over me?”

  “Of course,” Robert replied. “We’ll be right here.”

  “Don’t follow me in, no matter what happens,” Eliza said. “They’ll separate you like Lee, or worse!”

  “We won’t,” Granger answered.

  She closed her eyes and let herself slip into the flow. Dim lights from the hall’s interior fixtures came on. She expected to hear the refrain of a polka, but there was no dancing at the moment. She passed through the doors and into the hallway. Movement above her caught her attention, and wings beat overhead as she passed from the hallway into the large hall.