by Mark Tufo
As she got in the car, Cara looked up at the house in time to see the woman standing in the bedroom window pull the drapes closed. Even though Cara felt afraid and confused, she could have sworn that the woman in the window was Alice.
12.
As Cara waited for Ben to show up at the library, she gathered as many books as she could find. The pile on the library table included books on hauntings, ghosts, poltergeists, demons and more. She had no idea what was in her house, but she would do her best to find out.
Cara looked through book after book and found little to help her situation. It seemed like a haunting. It might be a demon, but there was no apparent attempt of possession on either her or Ben. She dropped her head down on the table in total exasperation. It seemed like she would never find an answer.
"Excuse me, Miss?" Cara looked up and saw an older gentleman standing in front of her. He was a chubby little guy in his sixties with white hair and a thick mustache. He reminded Cara of Wilford Brimley, standing there holding his cup of coffee, waiting for a reply.
"Yes?"
"I couldn't help but notice the types of books here in front of you. I hope it's not too presumptuous of me, but are you haunted?"
"No. I don't know. Maybe." She put her face in her hands, afraid she might start crying.
"May I sit?" He sat down, not waiting for an answer. "My name is Hank Nielson, and I might be able to help you."
"Cara. How can you possibly help me?" Cara asked, sounding more hopeless than she had intended.
"Well, I have had a little experience in this area. I'm a paranormal investigator at the University of Connecticut."
"You're a Ghostbuster?"
Hank laughed a hearty chuckle that came all the way from the bottom of his round belly. Cara liked him.
"I guess that's what I am, yes. So, why don't you tell me exactly what is going on?"
Cara began her story with meeting Sunny, and ended it with seeing Alice in the upstairs window. Hank listened intently with no sign of disbelief or mockery at all. Cara was amazed at how good it felt to spill the whole story.
"Well, it sounds like the best thing to do is talk with your husband, and see when we can get into that house."
"You believe me?"
"Well, are you lying?"
"No!"
"Then I guess I believe you." Hank smiled a warm, grandfatherly smile that made Cara feel very safe.
She spotted Ben walking in the front door and waved to get his attention. After assuring him that everything was ok for now, she recounted the whole story one more time.
Ben stared at her in horror.
"Baby, I'm so sorry I left you alone so much. If I had known what was going on, we would have left that place right away."
"No." Hank interrupted, "That could be the worst thing to do. If this spirit is attached to one of you personally, it could follow you. We have to try and determine what kind of haunting this is."
"What about the babies?" Cara asked.
"I don't know. I'll have to do some research on the house. Maybe we can find something out about previous owners. Can I come over in a couple of days with my crew? We need to set up some equipment and get some readings."
"No problem. The sooner the better." Ben said eagerly.
"I would also like to bring a psychic medium, if that's ok with you two."
"Of course." Cara replied.
"Don't worry, Cara. We will figure out what is going on. I promise."
This time Cara did start crying. Hank took the hand that Ben was not holding. He left his card and walked out of the library.
"We're getting a hotel tonight." Ben told her as they walked out of the library themselves.
13.
The last few days had been uneventful. The time spent in the hotel was relaxing and eased some of the tension that had been growing between them. Cara had been in touch with Hank, and they were planning on meeting at the house this morning. She was not looking forward to going back, for the most part. There was a small part of her that wanted to go back. She wanted to help that little girl, and reclaim the home that she and Ben planned to grow old in.
Today was the day. Hank had explained the process to them. He had thoroughly detailed the roles they would play, as well as the roles of his team members. Ben had been edgy all morning, and now they sat in silence drinking coffee and waiting.
"What time did he say to meet him?" Ben asked impatiently.
"Eight thirty."
"Seven thirty now. Should we go?"
"Finish your breakfast, and then we'll go."
Ben took an uninterested bite of bacon.
"Uh, uh." Cara chastised, "Hank said to eat a good breakfast, be well rested and alert."
"Yes, Mom." Ben replied, only half-jokingly.
Cara smiled as Ben ate the last of his eggs.
At eight AM, they got into the car and drove the fifteen minutes to Pine Creek Lane. When they arrived, to Ben's relief, Hank and his team were already waiting. Two young men that looked as though they should be hosting a local cable show from their basement were unloading tripods and other equipment from the back of a van. They had several large black cases, as well as two laptop cases already sitting on the front steps waiting to be allowed in. Hank leaned against the hood of a black sedan, pouring over a folder full of papers. When he saw them pull in the driveway, Hank looked up and smiled. This made Cara feel more at ease instantly.
They parked and got out of the car. Hank put his folder down and rushed over to greet them.
"Hello again. Thank you both so much for allowing us to help you." It was obvious that he was excited about this. "I've been researching, and I have found some very interesting history tied to this house."
"What kind of history?" Cara asked, catching Hank's apparently contagious excitement.
"We should go inside. Rick and Mitchell can set up the equipment while we talk."
Just then a woman approached them with a tentative smile. Cara thought that she seemed uneasy, and a little scared. Her appearance was not at all what Cara expected. She looked a little bit like a soccer mom. The woman was dressed in a light blue t-shirt, denim capri pants and light blue sneakers. Her look was completed by a small gold cross necklace. Her blond hair was pulled into a loose ponytail at the back of her neck. She looked as if she should be bringing snacks to the team, not holding a meeting at a haunted house.
"This is Becky, my favorite medium." Hank smiled with obvious affection. "She also happens to be my daughter."
"Pleased to meet you." Becky reached out her hand, first to Ben, then to Cara. As she touched Cara's hand, her face changed. Becky looked as though she might be ill, but the look was quickly replaced with a wary smile.
"Well, let's get going." Hank said, not wanting to waste any more time.
Ben led the way into the house, followed by Hank, Becky, Cara, Mitchell and Rick, in that order. The two young men immediately went about hauling in their cases and setting up the equipment.
Cara gasped when she saw the condition of the house. It was perfect, nothing was out of place.
"What is it, Cara?" Hank asked.
"This isn't right. There were pictures all over the steps, and that painting was smashed when it hit the ground." She pointed at her painting, which was now leaning against the bannister, in perfect condition. Tears made their way down her cheeks. "I'm going crazy." She covered her face as Ben reached out to comfort her.
"No, you're not." Becky injected. "There was definitely a disturbance here."
Cara sighed with relief, glad that someone believed her.
"Shall we get started?" Hank asked again, indicating that they sit in the dining room.
They each took seats, Hank at the head of the table. He opened the folder that he had been studying outside. It was filled with photocopies of records and newspaper clippings.
"Alright, let's start with the history of the house. It was built in 1920 by Laura Rains-Hoffstetter, a twenty-six year old widow fr
om Rochester, New York. She had worked as a nurse for a short time when she met her husband, Nicholas Hoffstetter, the owner of a successful flour mill. They married after a six month courtship, and within four months, Nicholas was dead of unknown causes. It was widely speculated that Laura was the cause of his untimely demise. Nothing has ever been proven.
Laura and Nicholas had already begun construction of this house before he passed away. When she moved in, she offered her services as a midwife to the then rural community. Soon after, she discovered that she herself was pregnant. Medical records indicate that she had complications and had to consult a regular physician. This doctor told Laura that her baby had died in the womb. She was in her eighth month, and was forced to deliver the stillborn baby."
"Oh my God. How horrible." Ben said, shaking his head.
"There's more." Hank continued. "She was still delivering other women's babies. Many of the people in town were saying that Laura was losing her mind. Then, babies started dying. From the years 1921 to 1926, twenty-four babies were either stillborn, or died within five days of birth. There were also several miscarriages. Of course, women stopped coming to Laura to have babies. In 1927, Laura hung herself in the basement. She left a message written in the dirt floor. The message read, 'She left me here.''
In 1930, Alice Rains moved into the home that she had inherited from her sister, Laura. Within two years, she was married and had delivered a baby girl. Within another six months, her husband was dead, and her newborn daughter was missing. An intruder was blamed for Alice's misfortune.
After that, Alice moved out, but kept the house empty until she decided to sell it in 1986. Since '86, twenty one owners have held the deed to this home. No one has stayed here for more than two years; some have stayed as little as two months."
"Hey Boss, we're all set up here." Rick popped his head in and announced.
"Thank you, Rick, we'll be there shortly." Hank replied. "Well, that gives you an idea of the history, so I think it is time to get started. Becky?"
Becky turned to Ben and Cara, who had sat through Hank's story with expressions of complete shock and horror on their faces.
"I am going to walk through the house and get a feel for each room. I may try to contact any spirits that I encounter. Are the two of you ready?"
Ben and Cara nodded their heads in unison.
"Good. Rick will be following along with a video camera, and Mitchell will be recording from the stationary cameras placed in most of the rooms. My dad will be recording audio, listening for possible electronic voice phenomenon. Dad, are you ready?"
Hank switched on his recorder and gave Becky thumbs up. He then proceeded to explain the process and purpose of recording. He had explained to Cara over the phone that this needed to be done in order to inform the spirits of their intentions.
After he finished this tutorial, Becky started asking questions, seemingly to nothing but air.
"We are trying to contact the spirits in this home. Will you speak to us?" Becky paused a few beats between each question to allow any answers to be recorded.
"Is there anyone here that would like to talk to us? Can you tell us your name? How old are you? Why are you here? Are you sad or angry? Are you alone?" Hank touched Becky's arm to indicate that this was a good line of questioning. They continued to walk out of the dining room, through the foyer and into the conservatory.
"How many of you are here? Can you tell us what happened to you?" Becky continued her question, beat, and beat, format as they walked out of the conservatory and up the stairs.
"Cara, you said that when you were first contacted, it was here on the second floor?"
"Yes. The message appeared on the painting."
"Would you like us to leave?" Beat-beat.
Cara was beginning to wonder if this was all in her mind. Nothing was happening, and she did not feel the uneasiness like before. She held tight to Ben as they made their way to the master bedroom. When they opened the bedroom door, Cara knew that this was not all in her head. Sally was sitting on the bed, propped against Cara's pillow.
"What the fuck?" Ben spoke for the first time since their ghost hunt had begun.
"Is there any way that we can help you?" Becky continued her interrogation of the spirits. "What's wrong, Ben?"
"That damn doll is what is wrong. I wrapped that thing in plastic and locked it inside a trunk down in the basement. How in the hell could it be up here?" He was losing his composure, so Cara pulled him closer.
Becky walked over and picked Sally up off of the bed. She looked at the doll with great interest. Cara realized that she had been holding her breath since she saw Sally. She let it out with a whoosh.
"Is someone keeping you here?" Becky asked the unseen force. She seemed to be mesmerized by the doll. She had been facing away from the group, but now she turned to Cara. There was a completely blank look on her face. In fact, there was nothing on her face at all. The corners of her mouth drooped, and her eyes were half closed. She opened her lips to speak.
"Cara? Cara, are you here?" Becky said in a distant voice.
"Yes, I'm here."
"I gave you this doll so that you would never forget me. I wanted you to remember me as young and strong. I didn't want you to see me weak and sick in that hospital bed."
"What the hell is going on?" Cara asked Hank, who just shrugged his shoulders and made a calming gesture to her. She did not like this one bit.
"Cara, sweetheart, it's Daddy. I came back to talk to you. I laid in that bed and listened to you read our favorite story. I laid there with my insides rotting, and you read a story to me while my organs turned to jelly and burned like fire inside of me." Becky was yelling now, but her voice was different, more masculine.
"Daddy?" Cara asked through her tears. Ben held her tightly against him.
Becky dropped the doll back onto the bed and her face instantly returned to normal.
"That was not your father, Cara. Something is here, I can feel it." She pushed past them and walked out the bedroom and onto the landing.
"Describe what you're feeling, Becky." Rick chimed in, making Cara jump.
"There are many here. Some of them are good. Children, babies, very innocent, and very frightened. I sense a female presence here as well. She is angry. She doesn't like it that I am here. I feel intense…hate." Becky was walking around the landing with her right hand raised in the air. She suddenly raced down the steps. They quickly followed her all the way to the basement door, where she had abruptly stopped.
"Do you have anything to tell us?" As Becky finished the question and waited for an answer, the basement door swung open with a bang.
Cara screamed as Ben jumped nearly out of his skin.
"Don't go down there." Cara pleaded. Becky didn't listen, and took a step into the dark. As she put her foot onto the first step, her whole body lurched forward and she was thrown down the steps into the dark basement. They could hear the thud as she hit the dirt floor. Rick ran down the stairs after her as Hank flipped the light switch. Cara and Ben reluctantly followed.
Becky sat in a heap on the floor. Her light blue shirt was now stained with dirt and the blood that flowed from her nose. Rick was kneeling beside her, trying to assess the damage. Cara's instinct took over. She rushed to get a rag from the shelf for Becky's gushing nose and bleeding head. As Rick took the rag and tried to slow the bleeding, Becky waved his hand away.
"Ben? Cara?"
"We're right here, Becky." Ben replied.
"I can feel them all. They're all here." She got up onto her hands and knees with considerable effort, and crawled over to the middle of the floor, where she began frantically brushing dirt from side to side. Hank approached her and attempted to place a hand on her shoulder. Becky made a grunting/growling noise that came from the depths of her diaphragm as she threw a handful of dirt in Hank's face.
"Becky, what the hell are you doing?" Hank exclaimed as he brushed the dirt from his face and chest. She only growled in r
esponse. Rick made his way over to try and help, but Hank stopped him short of reaching Becky.
"Stay back, Rick." He warned.
"We have to help her!" He protested.
"No, we don't. Let's see what happens first. Keep filming."
Rick grabbed his camera up off of the floor with obvious displeasure and pointed it at Becky, who was still digging into the dirt floor.
Ben and Cara looked on, frozen in place. Becky stopped digging and stood up. Her head was cocked to one side as if she was listening for some sort of signal to alert her to her next task. She began walking in a slow circle around the hole that she had dug in the floor. Her face and body twisted in a grotesque flailing dance. She quickened the pace of her circling until she was almost running around the hole.
Suddenly, she thrust herself towards Cara, stopping just inches from her face. Ben tried to step in and push Becky back, but she simply put her hand out and pushed him down against the steps with no effort, and without breaking eye contact with Cara, not even for a second. She sniffed around Cara's face like a hound smelling food on the air. Cara almost gagged on the pungent aroma of drying blood. A small trickle of it was still leaking from Becky's smashed nose onto Cara's shirt. She could see that this was not the pretty blond soccer mom that had greeted them outside. This was a thing; a monster.
A wide smile occupied the Becky-thing's face. She began to laugh as she put a hand under Cara's shirt. It was no ordinary laugh. It reminded Cara of the voice she had heard in the dining room a few days before. The monster put its hand on Cara's stomach and began to rub lightly. It leaned in closer and whispered something that the men could not hear.
"Ummum."
The monster cackled with glee. "Ummum!" It said, louder this time, addressing the whole room.
"What are you saying?" Cara asked, too scared to move a muscle.
Ben watched helplessly as Becky moved in and kissed Cara on the cheek with apparent tenderness. There was a bloody smudge where her lips had connected. Becky took Cara's face in both hands, looked her squarely in the eye, smiled.