Guests

by Mark James Wooding

should have known better than to get mad. It only made the House misbehave even more.

  I looked over at our guests and they were standing huddled together by the fireplace, their eyes in danger again of falling out0. I couldn't help myself. I laughed until I cried. After wiping my eyes I looked at the poor scared teenagers again, and I laughed once more. This didn't seem to make them more comfortable. Quite the opposite.

  “What's the matter with you?” the girl blurted out.

  “Please,” I implored of her, “don't make me laugh again. My sides are hurting too much already.” I wiped away more tears, then sat down.

  “Are you sure you wouldn't like to sit?” I asked. I might be a little odd, but I'd hate to be accused of being ungracious to my guests. The teenagers shook their heads.

  “When Milton died,” I continued, “his spirit never left. I think he wasn't ready to stop enjoying the discomfort of others. It feeds him, and seems to make him stronger.

  “I think when he died, his spirit became one with the house, so that the House became alive. At least, that's the way it seems. I've never seen any signs of Milton anywhere else.

  “Several other people had bought it before me, but no one had stayed longer than a month. I bought the House eight years after Milton died. The House tried to get rid of me too. At first I was scared. Then I got mad. All of which only made the House stronger. But then I thought of how funny it was: a house trying to scare away its owner. I began laughing whenever it tried anything, and soon it stopped trying.

  “But I was useful to the House. People came to see me, and the House scared them, and fed on their fear. Eventually my friends and family stopped coming. I haven't seen any of them in over twenty years. Now all we get are the occasional visitor. Salesmen sometimes, sometimes religious people. Those are the funnest, by the way. You should see their faces when the House starts to open and close the doors by itself.” I laughed at the memory. Ahhh, good times.

  I couldn't make them understand how strongly I felt about the House. How deeply I loved it.

  “Please, we want to go,” the boy requested.

  “But you just got here,” I said. “Surely you can stay just a little while longer.”

  “Please let us go,” the girl implored. “Tell the House to let us go!”

  That was when we heard a knock at the door. Another guest! I was so excited I almost peed in my bloomers.

  Before I could get to the door the boy and girl had gotten there, and were screaming, “Help! Let us out! We're trapped inside!”

  “Come in!” I said. “The door is open.”

  Deputy Sheriff Smith opened the door and walked in, and the kids embraced him.

  “Thank God you're here! We were prisoners! We couldn't get out! This place is haunted! And that old lady! She's crazy!” the two of them said, but I can't remember which one said what. They spoke so quickly.

  The deputy looked at each of them in turn. Then he laughed.

  Deputy Smith was a big man, and he filled the doorway. The young couple backed away from him. I couldn't help but laugh again.

  “Hello, Jessie,” he said. “Have you been scaring these young people?”

  “You know I don't scare anybody, Deputy Smith. At least – not on purpose. It's the House.”

  “You mean Milton? Will that bastard ever give up the ghost?”

  “Watch your language, Deputy Smith! There are children present.”

  The deputy just looked at me. He really should have apologized. It was very bad manners to speak like that in front of others. It set a bad example.

  “When are you and Milton going to stop making my life more difficult, Jessie?”

  “Well, if there's no pain or fear at the next level, Deputy Smith, then I don't think Milton has much incentive to move on,” I replied. “But I've got some pound cake in the kitchen if you'd like some. And some coffee.”

  “Sure, I'll take some to go. And you kids, I suppose that's your car at the bottom of the hill?”

  “We ran over some glass and nails and got two flat tires,” the boy explained.

  Deputy Smith looked at me sternly. “I know that was you, Jessie. This isn't the first time. I'm going to write you a ticket for that, and you're going to pay for their tires. And for the tow truck that will have to be called.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said, feeling fear for the first time that night.

  “And you need to clean up the road right away. I don't want any other problems like this.”

  “Couldn't I just clean it up tomorrow, Deputy Smith? It's late, and it's near my bedtime.”

  “I want it cleaned up tonight. Or I can arrest you, if you prefer.”

  “I'll clean it up,” I said. I sighed in resignation. My desire to laugh was completely gone. “You know, Deputy Smith, you're lucky the House likes you or you wouldn't be able to get away with bossing a poor old lady about.”

  Deputy Smith laughed. “Luck has nothing to do with it, Jessie. If this house gives me any problems I'll call for backup and have a hole blown in the side of the house with dynamite. And then I'll burn this place to the ground. So if Milton wants to mess with me, let him go ahead and do it.”

  The House did nothing. Not even a closet door or a window moved. I was a little embarrassed by its lack of gumption. Sometimes the House could be such a coward. But even so, I still loved it.

  “All right, Jessie. Pay these people what you owe them so we can be on our way. I want to get home myself before it gets too late.”

  “How much do I owe them?”

  “I'd say about three hundred dollars. And you're going to pay for their motel room, too. So make it an even four hundred dollars.”

  “Motel room? They don't need a motel room. Why, they can stay here for the night.” I looked at them hopefully.

  “Do you kids want to stay here for the night?”

  “No!!” they said together.

  I sighed. Oh well.

  “Which one of you owns the car?” the deputy asked.

  The boy raised his hand halfway.

  “Does four hundred dollars sound agreeable to you?”

  The boy didn't answer. He kept looking slowly back and forth between me and the sherriff. I think he was in shock. The girl said, “That will be fine, thank you.”

  I didn't have much money so I regretted having to pay it, but it was probably worth every penny.

  “I'll be right back,” I said. I went to the kitchen and fixed a cup of instant coffee in a styrofoam cup for the deputy, and wrapped some pound cake in a piece of aluminum foil. Then I took the lid off of a cookie jar and removed a roll of bills. I counted out four hundred dollars. I replaced the remaining bills into the cookie jar and put the lid back on. There were small paper bags in one of the kitchen cabinets, and I used one of the bags for the deputy's refreshments. I was tempted to poison him, but that would have caused me more trouble than it was worth. Plus, I liked Deputy Smith. I didn't really want to kill him.

  I gave the money to the boy, and the coffee and the pound cake to the deputy.

  “Now Jessie, I want you to apologize to these kids.”

  “But I didn't do anything. You know I didn't. It was the House.”

  “Well, the House can't speak, so you apologize for it.”

  I looked at the kids with my most contrite expression. “I'm sorry.” They didn't reply, and they looked so confused that I had to laugh at their expressions. I couldn't help myself. Then I laughed again.

  “Stop laughing, Jessie!”

  I stopped laughing, but I couldn't stay stopped. I laughed again, but only for a few seconds.

  “Let's go, kids. I'll have the dispatcher call a tow truck for you, and you can stay at the motel in town until your car gets fixed tomorrow.”

  They left, and the House slowly closed the door behind them. I sighed. All that was left to do was to clean up the mess.

  Yes, they
were a fine pair of guests we had the last time, one of the finest. I do so wish we'd have guests more often, though. I can't imagine why we don't. They're such a treat.