In a Dark Place: The Story of a True Haunting

by Ed

  She saw nothing.

  The thunderous pounding continued and the lights went on flashing and flashing.

  In the bathroom, Laura was still screaming.

  "You're okay, Al," Carmen said, leaning close to him. "You haven't been stabbed. There's nothing there."

  She felt him relax against her for a moment, then, moving cautiously, he got up, reached for the doorknob again, and—

  Everything stopped.

  The pounding silenced.

  The lights went out, plunging them into shadowy darkness.

  And the bathroom door slowly swung open.

  "Oh, my God," Carmen breathed, hurrying into the bathroom.

  Laura was stretched out on the counter, naked, legs spread, one arm dangling over the counter's edge.

  "Oh, God, Laura, what happened?"

  Laura's shoulders quaked as she cried silently. "Hands," she whispered. "Hands...all over me...ripped off my underwear...th-they felt me..."

  "Whose hands?"

  Laura shook her head. "I could only...feel them."

  "I'm calling the police," Al said from the hall.

  Carmen spun around, stepped out of the bathroom and hissed angrily, "The police? What are the police gonna do? Arrest somebody? A ghost, maybe? You still think there's some damned explanation for all of this Al? 'Cause if you do, you're the one who's crazy. We don't need the police here. We need a priest. And we're gonna get one."

  There was one more tremendous, thunderous pound and then, a voice that seemed to ooze from every inch of the darkness around them declared in a guttural, raspy tone:

  "There is no one who can help you. You are mine.”

  20

  A Skeptical Blessing

  Carmen called Father Wheatley first thing in the morning. She'd slept little, and although nothing more had happened for the rest of the night after the lights came back on, Carmen was just as jittery as if it had all happened just a few minutes ago. So it was difficult for her to give Father Wheatley a coherent explanation of the problem. She stuttered and stammered as she tried to make him understand that something supernatural, something evil, had invaded their house and that their son Stephen, now in a mental hospital for hearing voices and behaving so strangely, had tried to tell them that all along. But Wheatley could make little sense of it all.

  It was very obvious to him, however, that something was wrong, even though he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. He promised her he'd be over the moment he could tear himself away, probably in an hour, two at the most.

  Al went to work reluctantly; he didn't want to leave Carmen and Laura and Peter alone. Carmen would rather he stay, too, but they both knew he couldn't afford to miss work.

  Stephanie and Michael went out to meet the bus, both quiet and tense, and, until it came to get them, they stood by the road looking back at the house again and again.

  As Carmen waited for Father Wheatley to arrive, she kept Peter close to her at all times. Laura stayed close as well. She didn't want to be alone.

  They were sitting on the sofa with Peter kneeling before them and playing with his Merlin game when Carmen said quietly, "You know, if you'd like, Laura, you can go over to your aunt Lacey's with Mary."

  Laura frowned and shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think so. I just don't feel as comfortable with Aunt Lacey as I do with you and Uncle Al. Besides, I want to help."

  Carmen was surprised. "Even with...all this?"

  "Well..." Laura shrugged.

  "I just want you to know that, if you decide that's what you want to do, it's fine with us. Really, we'll understand. So will you let us know?" She nodded. "Yeah. I'll let you know."

  When Father Wheatley arrived, Carmen had the front door open before he'd even come up the walk. She ushered him into the living room anxiously and seated him in Al's recliner, all the while whispering to him, "Oh, I'm so glad you came, Father, you don't know how badly we need you here, I'm so glad you came."

  Once they were settled, Father Wheatley asked, "So, exactly what is the problem?"

  Carmen told him. She told him everything. It spilled from her in a flood because she'd been holding it back for so long. But, as she spoke, she saw the expression on his face change gradually, and she knew what that change meant: disbelief.

  When she was finished, she waited, hoping for a positive response, but not really expecting one.

  Father Wheatley, who had been leaning forward in the recliner as he listened to her, settled back with a sigh and his frown relaxed. Half his mouth turned up in a reluctant smile and he said softly, "Carmen, I'm going to say the first thing that comes to my mind. Your entire family has been through a great deal. Stephen's serious illness, as you yourself told me, put a great deal of strain on all of you." He added quickly, "Please don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying this is all a figment of your imagination or anything like that, I think it's perfectly understandable. Stress can do the most...well, the most incredible things to people, and I'm saying this from experience, both my own and the experience of my parishioners who have come to me as you have."

  After seeing the changes in his face, in his eyes, Carmen was not surprised by his response. She was even ready for it.

  "All right, Father," she said, "if this is because of the stress and strain brought on by Stephen's illness—and I'm not saying it isn't, I'm just, um...I'm just. . ." She closed her eyes and thought a moment about what she'd just said. "Yes, I am saying it isn't, because I know it isn't. What about Laura? She wasn't around when Stephen was sick. She didn't feel any of that stress, none of it. What about my neighbor, who doesn't even want to be in my house? She was the one who called and said there was a green woman glowing in the upstairs window. We didn't see it, but she did! And she didn't experience any of the stress and strain of Stephen's illness."

  "But I suppose she knows about the history of the house."

  "Well...yes, but she doesn't—"

  "That's very important. You see, Carmen, death is something that frightens all of us. Even those of us who know that it should not. This house used to be entirely dedicated to...death," he shrugged. "It seems perfectly natural that anyone who knows of its history would be afraid of it because of what it used to stand for."

  With a miserable sigh, Carmen leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. "You don't believe me," she mumbled into her palms.

  After remaining silent the whole time, Laura spoke up and said, "Father, I don't mean any disrespect, but...please listen. Aunt Carmen's not crazy. There's something going on in this house that doesn't have anything to do with stress or strain or Stephen's cancer. There's something...well, I don't mean to tell you your business, or anything, and, like I said, I don't mean to be disrespectful but...there's something evil and sick in this house. Something that means to harm us. So please, please Father, don't ignore it."

  Father Wheatley leaned his head way back and rubbed a finger back and forth thoughtfully just beneath his lower lip as he stared at the ceiling. Then he sat forward, folded his hands between his knees and asked, "Would you feel better if I blessed the house?"

  Carmen lifted her face from her hands, trying to hold back the tears that were fighting to fall, and said, "Oh, please, Father, would you?"

  "Certainly." He stood. "That would be no problem at all. I'll just go out to the car and get my bag."

  While he was gone, Carmen leaned back on the sofa and said, "He doesn't believe me. He thinks I'm crazy."

  "But it really doesn't matter as long as he's gonna bless the house, right?" Laura said. "I mean, that's gotta help. And maybe...well, just maybe he'll see something. Or hear something, or feel something."

  Carmen just shook her head, eyes looking weary, as Father Wheatley came back inside. They remained on the sofa as he blessed the living room by sprinkling holy water from a bottle and reciting the blessing, their heads bowed reverently. They still remained there as he went through the entire house, blessing each room, one after another.

  As the father'
s muffled voice droned on in other parts of the house, Laura put her hand on Carmen's and whispered, "Don't worry, Aunt Carm, this is probably gonna change everything. Really." Timidly, she added, "You've gotta have faith in God, that's all."

  Carmen knew she was right. For her to remain doubtful and afraid was an insult to God. She had to have faith that the blessing would make a difference, that it would end the strange incidents that had plagued them.

  But she could not stop thinking about Father Wheatley's obvious disbelief. If he were just going through with the blessing to patronize her, if he didn't really mean it, would that make a difference?

  When Father Wheatley was finished, he returned to the living room and smiled at them. "Well, I'm finished. I hope it helps."

  You hope it helps! Carmen thought. Her fear was realized: He'd done it just to appease her.

  Father Wheatley held up a hand. "But if I might make a suggestion: You should consider some sort of counseling. I mean, all of you, your whole family. You've been through a great deal." He gave them a smile that was meant to appear comforting. "I think you might benefit from it."

  Laura squeezed Carmen's hand and looked away from the priest; Carmen bowed her head, hoping Father Wheatley wouldn't see the doubt in her eyes.

  After the priest had left, Laura said, "He didn't sound too believing, did he?"

  Carmen shook her head.

  "Yeah, well, he's a priest, right? So maybe it'll help anyway, y'know?"

  Carmen didn't respond for a little while, then, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head very slowly. After seeing the doubt in Father Wheatley's eyes, the look of disbelief on his face, she suddenly realized how Stephen must have felt—how they must have made him feel—the whole time he was trying to tell them there was something wrong with the house.

  21

  Physical Attacks

  The morning Father Wheatley was supposed to come, Carmen had been too nervous to do the breakfast dishes and, instead, had stacked them neatly in the sink after giving them a cursory rinsing. After he left, she changed into a baggy shirt and jeans, went into the kitchen, and began to wash the dishes. Laura had offered to help, but Carmen had said, "No, no, you stay here and watch TV, or something." She wanted to be alone for a while; she wanted to think about the things she'd done and said to Stephen—the things they'd all done and said to him.

  She was standing at the sink washing the dishes when she felt a pinch on her behind. She chuckled and, still holding a plate in her wet, soapy hand, turned around saying, "Stop it, Peter," as she looked down, expecting to see him. He wasn't there.

  She stared at the empty space on the floor for a moment, then felt another pinch.

  There was a third pinch and then she felt fingers—she knew they were fingers because she'd felt Al do the same thing before, but playfully—slide between her legs and press upward.

  The plate she held slipped from her hand and shattered against the edge of the sink.

  Laura hurried into the kitchen, saying, "Aunt Carm! What's wrong?"

  "M...uh, well it was—"

  The hand pushed between her legs again and probed with strong fingers. Carmen grunted and jumped forward to get away from it.

  "It's after you now, isn't it?" Laura gasped. "Like it was after me last night."

  "Just go back in the living room, Laura. Please."

  She hesitated a moment, then did as she was told, looking over her shoulder, concerned.

  With suds still on her wet hands almost up to her elbows, Carmen left the kitchen and hurried down the hall to her bedroom, where she slammed the door hard and locked it, then leaned her back against it for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

  Her heart pounded in her chest.

  The back of her neck felt cold.

  And even as she leaned back against the door, she felt the alien touch again.

  Carmen threw herself forward with a muffled cry, not wanting Laura to hear her, and landed on the bed, but the hand moved with her, holding on all the while, fat fingers groping.

  She struggled to sit up, but suddenly there were more hands on her body, pressing her arms, shoulders, and legs to the mattress as one of the fingers entered her, entered her hard and roughly.

  Carmen could not hold back her cry of pain. But it didn't end there.

  Something longer and fatter than the finger, something that even throbbed, shoved itself into her rectum.

  Carmen's entire body stiffened.

  The thing moved in and out furiously, ripping at her.

  "Oh, please," Carmen gasped.

  There was a knock at the door. "Aunt Carmen? You okay?"

  "Please Jesus! In the name of Jesus! Stop! In the name of Jesus!"

  The bedroom door opened and suddenly, everything stopped. The hands let go, the fat, throbbing thing pulled out of her, and Carmen was left on the bed, shaking uncontrollably, sobbing.

  Laura hunkered down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, asking, "Aunt Carmen, what's wrong, what happened?"

  Carmen could not speak. She could not give Laura an explanation. She simply shook her head as she tried to catch her breath and regain her ability to speak.

  "I-I-I...don't know, Laura, something attacked me. Something..." Her lips pursed and her hands clutched the pillow as she tried to find the right word. "Something, um...hurt me!" she hissed, her voice quivering with disbelief as she spoke.

  When Laura spoke, she sounded near tears: "Oh, God, I knew it, I knew that's what it was, oh God, it's still here, the blessing didn't help, oh God, Aunt Carm, what're we gonna do?"

  Carmen realized that, more than anything at that moment, she wanted off that bed, and she pushed herself away from the mattress quickly. In an instant, she was standing beside Laura.

  "Well, for a little while anyway," Carmen said, "we're gonna get the hell out of here, you, me, and Peter. But first, um...I'd like to take a shower."

  Carmen felt filthy—vile. It was a relief when she stepped beneath the hot water. She covered her body with soap lather and scrubbed herself hard with a washcloth, hoping to scrub away the dirty feeling of violation.

  After scrubbing for several minutes, crying quietly, she stepped forward to rinse off under the spray, but the shower curtain moved and, although she saw no one there, she knew she was no longer alone.

  A foreign sound suddenly meshed with the hiss of the shower, meshed and then, after a moment, separated and formed words in a voice that was deep, rough and resonant:

  "I wanna roll in bed with my two favorite playthings...you and Laura. I wanna fuck you. I wanna fuck you until you screeeaam!”

  Then the voice laughed a long, cruel laugh, and the attack began.

  Hands clutched her shoulders from behind, spun her around and slammed her hard against the wet tile. She started to cry out, but her lips were smashed against the wall. The laughter continued as something slammed into her hard...pulled out...slammed in again...and again and again and again...

  Hands squeezed her breasts hard, pinched her nipples until pain shot through her chest, up her neck and down her abdomen.

  And yet there was no one there...

  Carmen pulled her face away from the tile, sucked in a deep breath, along with the moist and humid spray of shower, and screamed as loud as she could.

  But it continued: the pounding inside her, the painful crushing and pinching of her breasts...

  Then the bathroom door opened and Laura screamed, "Aunt Carmen I'm here what is it what's wrong what is it?"

  It stopped.

  Carmen found herself leaning against the wall, her body covered with lather that began to run down to the floor of the tub with the shower's spray. She pushed away from the wall, her hands slipping over the tile, turned and pulled away the curtain.

  "It was here,” she gasped, her voice hoarse. "It...it attacked me again, it sod—it did the same thing to me again."

  Her tears were washed away by the shower and she folded her arms over her breasts as she sobbed.
>
  "Just get out of there!" Laura cried. "Please, just get out of there so we can leave!"

  Carmen nodded. "I am. I will. I'll be out in a minute. Go get Peter for me, okay? Make sure he's all right."

  She rinsed quickly, left the shower and began to dry off furiously, not caring about whether her hair was dry or not. With Laura and Peter at her side, she dressed fast, gathered up a couple of Peter's toys and they left, with no idea where they were going....

  They drove around town for a while, then went to a nearby shopping mall, where they had ice cream, let Peter ride a small mechanical spaceship for a quarter, and did some window-shopping. They kept moving, kept their attention diverted, and did not think about what had happened at the house.

  After a few hours of trying to lose themselves in the safe and anonymous crowd of shoppers, Carmen realized how late it was and decided that, as much as she dreaded returning to the house, she had to get back so Stephanie and Michael wouldn't come home from school to an empty house—or at least one that appeared empty.

  They did some quick grocery shopping for dinner, then headed home.

  When they got to the house, they climbed the porch and stood at the door...staring. With nervous clumsiness, Carmen took the keys from her purse, found the right one, slowly slipped it into the lock, turned it, and they entered.

  There was nothing out of place. There was nothing unusual waiting for them.

  Clutching a bag of groceries in one arm, Carmen turned to Laura and said, "Whatta you say we just go ahead and start dinner, take our time, have some fun, and forget about everything?"

  Laura's eyes were wide as she looked around, taking cautious steps along the hall. She nodded her head and said, "Yeah. Okay."

  And so they did. They unloaded the groceries in the kitchen and started dinner.

  Stephanie got home first. They told her nothing, just kept her in sight.

  When Michael came home, he asked if he could go to a friend's house down the road until dinner and Carmen gave him an enthusiastic yes; she was relieved to have him out of the house.