“Whatever happens, don’t lift your fingers from the pointer,” warned Becca.
“Got it.“
“And if things get out of hand, we move the planchette down to GOODBYE to end the session.”
“I thought you said this was safe?”
“It is if you follow the rules.”
“I’m having second thoughts. There’s enough weirdness in the house already without making it worse.”
“Do what I say, let me ask the questions, and everything will be fine.” Becca fixed Sarah with a long stare. “Now, be quiet.”
“But…”
“Shhh.” Becca took another breath, and then spoke in a clear, loud voice. “Spirits, come to us, be with us in this safe place.”
She waited a moment, and tried again, directing the question into the empty space above Sarah’s head. “Is there a spirit here with us?”
The planchette didn’t move.
“Is there anyone there?”
Sarah suppressed a giggle.
Becca shot her an annoyed look before continuing. “I ask again. Is there anyone there who wishes to converse?”
Still nothing.
“Spirit, come to us.”
The planchette might as well have been glued to the board.
“I implore you, talk with us.”
“This is lame.” Sarah went to lift her fingers from the pointer.
“Don’t.” Becca’s gaze snapped back down. “Keep your fingers where they are.”
“This isn’t working,” Sarah said, but even so, she kept touching the pointer. “It’s a waste of time.”
“Give it a while. Sometimes the spirits need to find us.”
“Fine.” Sarah slumped back. “But hurry up, I’m getting bored.”
“This is serious,” Becca scolded. “Now pay attention.” She looked down at the board. “I ask one more time, is there anybody there?”
For a few seconds nothing happened. Then, just as Becca was about to speak again, the planchette moved.
The movement was subtle, slight at first, then it slid sideways to the word YES.
Sarah looked at the pointer with wide eyes. “Crap. Did you do that?”
“Oh my god. There’s a spirit here.” Becca’s face lit up. She grinned. “This is awesome.”
“You’re full of shit. There’s no way that moved on its own.”
“I swear to god, I didn’t move it,” Becca said. “We should ask something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like this,” Becca said. “Are you dead?”
The pointer moved back to the center of the board, stopped, went back to YES.
“Oh, crap.” Sarah felt the knot in her stomach tighten.
“Did you live in this house?”
YES.
Becca glanced at Sarah. “Did you die in this house?”
The pointer snaked across the board. NO.
“Where did you die?” Becca’s voice trembled.
The pointer shuffled across the board. T-R-E-E.
“What does that mean?” Sarah asked, doing her best to keep the fear from her voice. “Tree?”
“Beats me.” Becca focused on the planchette again. “When did you die?”
1-6-9-3.
“How did you die?”
T-R-E-E. The planchette picked the words out one by one.
“I don’t like this,” Sarah said. “If it isn’t you moving the pointer, then whatever we’re speaking too shouldn’t be here.”
“So let’s ask why it is still here.”
“No.” Sarah shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”
“We’ve come this far,” Becca said. Then to nobody in particular, “Why are you here?”
The planchette drifted to the middle of the board, then back up to the row of letters.
An answer formed.
U-N-R-E-S-T
“What does that mean?”
I-N-O-C-N-T
“Huh?” Sarah was confused. “That’s not a word.”
“Innocent.” Becca looked pleased with herself. “Are you saying you are innocent?”
YES.
“What were you accused of?” Becca asked.
The planchette drifted to the middle of the board.
It stayed there.
“What did you do?” She tried again.
The planchette didn’t move.
“Why is it not answering?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know.” Becca shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t like the question.”
“So ask something else.”
“Any ideas?” Becca looked at her friend.
“Ask it for a name.” Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to know the identity of the entity they were conversing with, but at the same time she had a feeling it was important.
“Okay,” Becca said. “What is your name?”
This time the pointer slid across the board. It drifted to the middle of the alphabet, picked out several letters.
M-W-A-R-D.
“Is that your name?”
The planchette stayed where it was, pointing to D.
“Are we missing some letters?” Becca tried again. “Is that your name?”
The planchette drifted to the middle of the board, stopped there.
“Are you still with us?”
The pointer remained still.
“Are you still there?”
Nothing.
“I think it’s gone.” Sarah said. She lifted her fingers from the pointer.
“No, put them back.” Becca motioned to her. “We have to close the connection. It’s very important.”
“Sorry.” Sarah placed her fingertips hack on the planchette. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” Becca said. She looked down. “Is there anything you wish to say?”
As before, the pointer stayed still.
“Okay. We’re going to go now. I’d like to say goodbye.”
The planchette moved again, slower this time. It crawled across the board, heading down until it reached the word GOODBYE. It stopped.
The two girls sat there for a while, their fingers still on the pointer, and then, after a minute had passed, Becca spoke in a small voice. “I think it’s gone.”
“Holy crap.” Sarah lifted her hand from the pointer. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her body. “That was intense.”
“Oh my god, it’s never worked that well before.” Becca looked shocked. “That was freaking scary.”
“I told you I didn’t want to do it.” Sarah wished she’d been more insistent. It was bad enough dealing with the strange things going on, let alone this. “How am I going to sleep after this?”
“Does any of the stuff the board said mean anything to you?”
“No. I don’t think so,” Sarah replied. But then she remembered something from a few days before. “Actually, it might.”
“Well?” Becca said. “Don’t keep it to yourself.”
“The name. MWARD.” Sarah hesitated. It sounded familiar, and she thought she knew why.
“You know something.” Becca closed the board and laid it aside. “Spill it.”
“It’s better if I show you.”
“Let’s go.” Becca hopped off the bed. “I want to see.”
“Right now?”
“Sure,” Becca said. “Why not?”
“Because it’s out in the woods.”
“Mysterious. I’m even more intrigued.” She looked excited. “Come on, what’s the harm?”
“It’s the middle of the night, and we’ve just spent the last half hour talking with...” She struggled to find the right words. “I don’t even know what the hell we just talked with.”
“Even more reason to go now.”
“How do you figure that?”
“What, are you scared?” Becca taunted.
“No. Of course not.” That was a lie.
“I think you are.”
“Just drop it. Besides, it’s rain
ing.” Sarah pushed the board away, happy to put some distance between it and her. “I’ll show you first thing in the morning. Promise.”
“Come on,” Becca pleaded. “It’ll be an adventure. Please?”
“You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. We’ll go, but at the first sign of anything weird, we come back. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Just great.” Sarah muttered the words under her breath. The woods were the last place she wanted to be in the dark, but on the other hand, she wanted to confirm her suspicion about the name. To Becca, she asked, “How do I let you talk me into these things?”
Chapter 30
“Keep quiet.” Sarah turned to Becca. “I don’t want to wake anyone.”
The girls were on the second floor, moving along the hallway. Jake’s door was closed. She paused for a moment, listening, but could hear nothing. Further along was her father’s bedroom, and the writing room where she’d found him with the vodka a few nights before. Tonight the lights were off, the house silent and sleeping. That was good. She didn’t know what she would do if her dad was drowning his sorrows in booze again, especially with Becca there.
They descended the stairs. Sarah told Becca where to avoid, which steps creaked the worst, and soon they were in the kitchen.
Sarah went to the sink, opened the cabinet beneath, and reached in, coming away with two flashlights, one large and hefty, the other smaller, made of molded red plastic.
“Dad put these here in case the power goes out,” she explained. “He said a tree branch could take down the line running to the house if the weather gets bad over the winter.”
“A regular boy scout,” Becca said in a whisper. “Give me one of those.”
“Here.” Sarah held out the smaller of the two. “Take this.”
“Why do I get the crappy one?”
“Because I know where we’re going.” Sarah said. “Besides, it’s my house.”
“Fair enough.” Becca clicked the flashlight on. The beam of light lit up the dark kitchen.
“Ready?” Sarah activated her own light, went to the back door, drew the bolt back, and stepped out into the night.
It was chilly outside, and wet.
Sarah was glad she had had the forethought to bring a coat. The rain hadn’t let up for days, and despite the cheery optimism of the weather girl on Channel 16, it didn’t look like it would ease up any time soon.
“Where now?” Becca clasped her hands around her torso, pulling her own jacket tight.
“This way.” Sarah took off across the grass with Becca following behind. They passed the swing set, which was gently swaying on rusted chains. As it moved, the chains made lingering high-pitched squeals that sent a shudder through Sarah. She was glad to move on, leaving the swing behind.
At the edge of the woods she paused, glanced back toward the house. The only light came from the third floor windows. That meant they had escaped the house undetected. Sarah was both relieved and disappointed at the same time. If they had been caught, there would be no choice but to abandon this foolish errand and wait until morning. Now she had no excuse and must continue on, despite her unease.
It was darker after they entered the woods. The trees loomed above them. They closed in overhead, blotting out the sky. Branches reached like gnarled hands onto the trail, threatening to snag their clothing, and a few times Sarah was forced to stop and push foliage out of the way. To make things worse, a faint malodorous scent wafted their way whenever the wind weaved through the woods, as if the entire place was rotting from the inside out. The putrescent smell reminded Sarah of the time they drove past sewage works in upstate New York. The smell had been so bad her father turned the air conditioning off in an unsuccessful attempt to curb the stink. This odor was nowhere near as pungent, but it was there all the same.
“What’s that?” Becca wrinkled her nose, voicing what they were both thinking.
“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted. “Maybe something died nearby, a deer perhaps, or a bear.”
“Gross.” Becca looked around, as if she expected to see a carcass lying in plain view. “I think I’m going to puke.”
“Keep moving. I’m sure it will pass soon,” Sarah said. But just to be on the safe side, she breathed through her mouth, and after a while the odor had all but vanished.
They kept on down the trail until they came across the stream Sarah had discovered when she’d been in the woods with Tyler. It was wider than before, and faster, thanks to the unrelenting rain. In early spring, when the winter snows melted, it would be a torrent.
“Tell me we don’t have to cross that,” Becca said.
“Afraid so.”
“That’s perfect.” Becca glanced down at her running shoes, pristine white with pink bands running along the sides. “I’ve only had these a week.”
“Hey, this was your idea.”
“I know.”
“We can always turn back,” Sarah said.
“Nice try.” Becca gave her friend a gentle shove. “Keep moving.”
“Alright, alright.” Sarah placed her foot on a flat stone that poked a few inches above the water line, and then stepped onto another rock. “Follow me, it’s not too wide. And be careful, the rocks will be slippery.”
“I’m going to be so mad if I get these wet.” Becca stepped onto the first rock, steadied herself, and then hopped across to another, following Sarah until they were both safely on the opposite bank.
“It’s not far now.” Sarah pointed. “See that clearing up ahead?”
“About time.” Becca hurried to catch up to her friend.
“This was your idea, remember?”
“I know,” Becca said. “Doesn’t mean I can’t complain.”
“You’re impossible.” Sarah covered the last hundred yards at a jog. When they entered the clearing, she shone her flashlight across the ground until the beam found the gravestone.
It was just as she remembered.
“Is that a grave?” Becca came to a halt in the middle of the clearing.
“Yep.” Sarah nodded. “Weird, huh?”
“Holy crap. You actually have a grave in your back yard.”
“It’s not really in my back yard,” Sarah said.
“This is your land, right?”
“I think so.”
“Then this is your back yard.” Becca trained her flashlight on the headstone. “Neat.”
“It’s not neat. It’s creepy,” Sarah replied. “There’s a dead body down there.”
“So what?” Becca shrugged. “There are dead people everywhere. There was a huge cemetery less than two miles from my house.”
“You don’t have to live next to it though.” Sarah knelt down, ran her fingers across the face of the marker. The stone felt rough and cold under her touch. “See this? The name?”
“Martha Ward.” Becca leaned close. “That’s the same name the board spelled out. MWARD.”
“Exactly. And look at the date.”
“1693.” Becca took a step backwards. “Okay. That’s too freaky. Are you sure you weren’t pushing the pointer as a joke?”
“No. I swear.” Sarah stood up. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Because you want me to think your house is haunted?”
“I’m beginning to believe that it is.” This was the first time Sarah had vocalized the vague impressions solidifying in her mind. The admission made her feel queasy.
“Stop it. That’s enough. I have to sleep in that…” She never finished the sentence. Instead, she paused, glanced around. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Sarah asked.
“Some sort of whooshing sound.” Becca turned, her eyes searching the woods. “Like something’s coming.”
“I don’t hear it.” Sarah strained to listen, and then, to her surprise, she did hear it. A rising thunder, like a great wave was rolling toward them. Except that they were no
where near water.
Just then the leaves stirred and rustled, and a mighty wind blew up out of nowhere. It rampaged through the trees, screaming and complaining. It whipped into the clearing, stripping branches of their foliage and sending twigs and leaves aloft in a crazy dance.
Sarah let out a shriek and raised her arms, shielded herself as the tumultuous gale slammed into her, raged around her.
“Holy shit.” That was Becca.
Sarah didn’t really hear the words as much as lip-read them. She braced herself against the chaos, blinked to clear her eyes as the rain, driven sideways by the wind, almost blinded her.
“What’s going on?” Becca staggered backwards, such was the force of the onslaught.
“I don’t know!” Sarah shouted the words, but no sooner were they out of her mouth than they were snatched away by the maelstrom. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Look.” Becca was pointing at the grave.
The debris, branches, foliage, loose fauna, had spun itself into a fury, tearing around a column of angry air that settled over the grave. The funnel stretched upward, high into the darkness, twisting into a corkscrew. Leaves and twigs spiraled up and out of sight.
Sarah struggled to train the flashlight on the odd twister, almost losing her grip as the wind tugged at it and tried to rip it from her grasp. Even with the bright beam of light she could not see the top of the churning shaft. It might as well go on forever.
Worse, the smell was back, cloying and pungent, reeking of death. It rode the wind, making Sarah want to gag. She felt her stomach heave, the bile rise in her throat. She swallowed hard, pushing the sensation back down, desperate not to puke.
From off to her left, Becca let out a scream.
Sarah turned, startled.
Becca, still fighting against the gale, looked pale. Her eyes were wide.
“What is it?” Sarah didn’t know if her friend could hear her or not.
“I saw something.” Becca was ashen. “A person standing behind the grave.”
“There’s no one there.” Sarah looked around the clearing but saw nothing. “I don’t see them.”
“We have to leave,” Becca gripped Sarah’s hand, dragged her backwards. “Right now.”
“Hold up.” Sarah stumbled along behind, one arm raised to her face in a desperate attempt to avoid the worst of the barrage.
The Haunting of Willow House Page 12