The Ghost of Longthorn Manor and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  “Jake?” I call out, looking through to the lounge. “What the hell, man? What are we doing here and why are my clothes still on?”

  I wait, but he doesn't answer. In fact, for a moment this house is so quiet, I wonder whether he's done a runner and left me here alone. A few seconds later, however, I hear a reassuring bump, and I let out a giggle as I stumble past the photos. As I do so, however, I almost trip over my own feet, and I have to reach out and steady myself once more against the wall. My hand pushes one of the photos aside, knocking it off its hook and sending it crashing to the floor, where the glass shatters.

  I freeze, shocked, before bursting out laughing.

  God, I'm drunk. Not too drunk to know that I'm drunk, but I'm definitely drunk. I've got a feeling that tomorrow morning, I probably won't remember much of tonight.

  “Hey, Jake!” I yell, stumbling through to the next room and then banging straight into a couch. Unable to stop myself, I tip over its side and land hard on the dusty old cushions, almost bouncing straight off and onto the floor.

  Somehow, I manage to keep from spilling my tequila, although I do drop my cigarette. Fortunately, the tip goes out as it lands against the sofa, so we're saved from a massive fire. Grabbing the cigarette, I take a moment to light it again, and then I take another drag before turning and seeing that Jake is standing at the window, looking out toward the street. I start grinning, and for a moment the whole situation feels beautifully surreal.

  “What are you doing?” I ask finally.

  I wait for a reply, but he seems totally preoccupied by whatever's out there.

  “What are you doing?” I ask again.

  Still no reply.

  “What are you doing,” I continue, “and why do you still have your pants on? Come on, don't tell me you brought me here just to show me around. I saw the way you were looking at me, back at the bar. You seemed pretty confident. Please don't turn into a wuss now you've got me alone.”

  This time, when he still doesn't respond, I sit up and then lean back against the sofa. I watch him for a moment, and then I take a swig of tequila before holding the bottle out. This guy needs to learn fast that I am really good at giving head.

  “You need to be way more drunk than you are,” I tell him.

  He still doesn't reply, and I've got to admit that now I'm starting to think he's being a little rude.

  “Did you drink anything tonight?” I continue. “I saw you with a drink in your hand the whole time the band was playing, but I don't know if I saw you drink from it.”

  Again, silence.

  “Come on, man,” I say with a grin, as I shift my position a little and the aging sofa creaks under my weight, “lighten up. Are you worried about someone interrupting us? If you are, maybe we should get on with things. Do you know what causes heat? Friction!”

  I reach up and undo a couple of buttons on my shirt, revealing a whole lot of cleavage. Of course, for my fantastic boobs to seduce Jake, I need him to actually turn and look at me first.

  “Hey, cheekbone dude!” I continue, clicking my fingers. “I'm over here!”

  Finally, he turns to me.

  “That's better,” I mutter. “So do -”

  Before I can finish, I hear a brief, loud bump from the room directly above us. I look up at the ceiling, but the house is already silent again. Still, I'm not so drunk that I've lost all awareness of my surroundings.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask.

  “What was what?”

  I turn to him. “Uh, hello? The loud bump that just came from up there?”

  “I didn't hear anything.”

  “Are you for real?”

  Sitting up straight, I take a quick drag from my cigarette and a quick sip of tequila, before getting to my feet and stepping around the sofa. I still feel like the world is spinning, but I'm sick of waiting for Jake to make a move and I feel like it's time for me to take charge. Some guys just need a push-start.

  “I'm an open-minded kinda girl,” I tell him, undoing another button on my shirt. My boobs are damn near hanging out now, and he'd better have noticed. “If you've got someone else here and you're interested in some kinda group thing, I am not necessarily against the idea. Okay? But I'd like to know ahead of time what I'm getting myself into. Do you see where I'm coming from? I'm up for anything, within reason.”

  He stares at me for a moment, keeping his eyes fixed on my face and not even briefly looking at my goddamn boobs. What the hell is wrong with him?

  “So who else is here?” I ask, starting to warm to the idea of a party. “Is it one of those douches from the bar?”

  “There's no-one else here.”

  “You're lying.”

  “I'm not. There's no-one else here.”

  I stare at him for a moment, surprised by how blank he seems now that we're away from the crowd, and then finally I start laughing.

  “Okay,” I mutter, turning and stumbling through the doorway and into the hall. “Whatever. I guess I'm gonna have to find out for myself, huh? You know, you're lucky I haven't walked out of here already. Do you think there weren't other guys I could've gone home with tonight? I had offers, good offers, but I chose to come with you. And it wasn't only 'cause of your cheekbones, it was also 'cause of -”

  Suddenly I let out a gasp as I damn near trip over a loose chunk of wood that some asshole left on the floor. Looking down, I see that the first step has come away from the stairs and has been just dumped right where someone could fall over it. I kick the stupid thing away and then I start making my way up toward the house's top floor, holding onto the railing in case any of the other steps come loose.

  “Do you seriously live in this place?” I call back to Jake.

  “It's my uncle's.”

  “Huh. Fascinating. And you live here?”

  No reply.

  Oh well. I guess I didn't pick him up for his skills as a conversationalist.

  Getting to the top of the stairs, I can't help noticing that the air is so much colder up here. I look around, but all I see are various doors leading into what I assume are bedrooms. I don't know why, but suddenly I get a real urge to shake this place up a little, so I reach into my bag and take out one of the marker pens I was using earlier to make posters. I'm quite well-known around town as an artist. One might even say that I'm a local celebrity. Giggling, I step over to one of the walls, and then I start drawing a big cartoon dog.

  Behind me, Jake is slowly coming up the stairs.

  “I'm an artist,” I mutter, as I draw the dog's big goofy eyes. “Did I tell you that earlier? I'm gonna study art next year. I've been drawing since, like, forever, and I wanna get into fine art, that kinda thing. My friend Becky is already in her second year, and she spends half her time drawing and half her time getting totally wasted. That, amigo, is pretty much how I want to live my entire life. I am without a doubt a goddamn artist. What do you think of my dog? It's my current signature piece.”

  I continue to draw, taking a moment to color in the big old flappy ears, and then I turn to see that Jake is simply staring at me from the top of the stairs.

  “Try to contain your shock at my skill, yeah?” I continue, starting to feel like maybe I shouldn't bother hiding my irritation. “You're gonna be a little more animated once we're doing it, aren't you? You're gonna show some enthusiasm, I hope. 'Cause it's not very hot when a guy just blanks out and stares the whole time.”

  I wait for a reply. God damn, he's a handsome son of a bitch, and the moonlight really catches his angular cheekbones to perfection. I mean, he's basically got the good looks of a fashion model, and I think he's probably the hottest guy I've hooked up with since that Carl dude last summer. And Carl lives in New York, so he's definitely the real deal. Then again, Jake's got that urban edge that Carl was lacking. Jake seems more down and dirty, but also more vacant. Still, I guess you can't have everything in a guy. Jake's not a keeper, but he might make a good one night stand.

  “You haven't asked
yet,” I tell him.

  “Asked what?”

  “If they're real.”

  I look down at my cleavage for a moment, before turning back to Jake and seeing that he's still staring at my face. My goddamn face! Like, seriously!

  “They're totally real,” I continue, taking another swig of tequila before turning back and adding some finishing touches to the dog I've been drawing. “They're real and they're amazing, and you're gonna get a real good view of them in just a few moments. Unless you blow it by being a total douche.”

  I step back, admiring my drawing, and finally I realize I'm done. I take a drag on my cigarette, and then another swig from my bottle, and then I turn and head over toward Jake. Goddamn, he's like a statue. A beautiful, chiseled, hot statue, but definitely a statue. He seemed like fun at the club, but I guess maybe he's nervous, so I decide to give him a hint. As I reach him, I lean real close, almost close enough for our lips to touch, and then I reach down to start unbuckling his belt.

  “So -”

  Suddenly I hear another bump, and this time I can tell that it's definitely coming from one of the nearby rooms. I turn, feeling a little flustered, and then I look back at Jake and see that his dark, soulful, blank eyes are still staring straight at me.

  “Just answer one question,” I continue, before biting my bottom lip for a moment. “Are you fixing on sharing me with a guy or a girl? 'Cause either's fine, but I'd just like to know.”

  I wait for a reply, and now in the back of my mind I'm starting to wonder whether it's safe to be here. Jake seems like a nice dude, but I guess he could be hiding something. He's lucky I'm too drunk to walk home.

  “I've got moves,” I tell him. “If you -”

  Before I can finish, I let out a sudden, loud burp. I quickly place a hand over my mouth, although I know it's too late.

  “I'm so sorry!” I giggle. “I know that wasn't sexy at all! I've just drunk way too much tonight!”

  When he still doesn't reply, I reach down and take his hand in mine, and then I start leading him toward one of the doors. He quickly grips me tight, however, and I turn back to him.

  “Not in there,” he says calmly, before looking toward a door that's slightly ajar. “In here.”

  “Okay,” I reply, still holding his hand as I head over, “whatever you say, lover-boy. “

  With that, I kiss him on the cheek before taking another swig of tequila, dragging briefly on my cigarette, and then kicking the door wide open and stumbling through.

  “Let's do this!” I laugh. “Let's get totally -”

  Part Three

  Hazel – March 15th, 2011

  “Woah, it is those girls who went missing!” I mutter, scrolling further down the page on my phone as I follow Jake up the stairs. “Oh my God, did you know that when you brought me here? This is the house where it happened! This is like the creepiest, most famous house in the whole state!”

  As soon as I get to the top of the stairs, I stop and take a moment to read some more. I know I should be more 'in the moment', I know I should focus on Jake, but my mind is racing and I can't stop checking out the story online.

  “I knew I recognized those photos down there,” I continue. “Their names were Katie, Lizzie and Wendy Chapman. They were nine, eight and five years old respectively, and they disappeared on the night of September 3rd 2005. Their parents, Tom and Bonnie Chandler, were questioned for four days about what happened, but then they were released and they...”

  I scroll down a little further.

  “Oh God, they killed themselves. The parents committed suicide right here in this house, and their three little girls were never found!”

  I feel a shudder run through my chest as I scan the rest of the page. This is some seriously messed-up stuff, and I can't believe that I'm actually in this house. The whole town was pretty much taken over by the tragedy of the girls' disappearance a few years ago, and even today everyone has their own theory. Some people think the girls were sold into some kind of sick slavery ring, others think the Chapmans accidentally killed their children and hid the bodies, others think the parents were totally innocent and the kids were kidnapped and murdered by some random drifter. There are even a few nut-jobs who claim aliens took the girls.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I stammer, turning to Jake and seeing that he's standing next to a door that's been left slightly ajar. “Seriously, this is... disturbing.”

  I wait for a reply, but he's simply staring at me. Back at the bar, Jake seemed pretty cool, but ever since we came out here to this house I've started to notice a subtle change in his demeanor. I've always considered myself to be a pretty good judge of character, and Jake's starting to seem like one of those guys who has a lot going on in his head. Like, so much that he can barely even focus on everything else that's going on in the world. I guess some people might mistake his silence for emptiness, but I honestly believe that he's a very deep and very soulful guy.

  He just needs somebody special to help him show it more.

  “Why don't we get out of here?” I ask. “I'm sure we can find somewhere more comfortable. I mean, it's not like we can find anywhere creepier, right? And maybe I could come back here with you some time and record some kind of epic video. Nothing sensationalist or tasteless. More like a quiet, respectful meditation on this house and its role in local culture.”

  I wait for him to reply, but he's just staring at me. I open my mouth to make another joke, but then I see that somebody has drawn a big cartoon dog on one of the walls.

  “Did you do that?” I ask, trying to change the subject a little and focus on something lighter. Heading over to the wall, I can't help but think that this dog is pretty cool, although I don't really like the idea of someone disrespecting such an important space. “You've got talent. I like it, although maybe -”

  “I didn't draw it,” he replies, his voice sounding almost completely blank and emotionless.

  “Someone else, huh?” I continue, turning to him with a smile. “So is this place, like, a squat now or something?”

  Again, I wait for him to reply, and again he says nothing.

  “I should probably level with you,” I tell him. “I don't do certain things on first dates. Not that this is necessarily a date, of course. I mean, I don't know if it is or not, um...”

  Pausing, I realize that I've started to blush. My heart is pounding, too, and I think maybe I've managed to get myself into something of a mess. Damn it, I was managing to play everything so cool up until that point, but I've blown it all in a matter of seconds.

  “Okay, let's try again,” I continue, unable to keep from smiling like a fool. “It's really fun hanging out with you, but I think maybe I was right the first time when I said I didn't want to come to this place. I got a bad feeling about it, even before I realized it was the place where that horrible tragedy happened to the Chapmans. I guess I just don't think it's right for anyone to be here. The house should have been torn down or sealed off or something, not left here like some kind of awful mausoleum for people to wander through. I really don't -”

  Before I can finish, I hear a very faint bump coming from one of the nearby rooms. I immediately turn and look at the door, which has been left ajar. I can't deny, deep down, I feel a flicker of fear at the thought that the house might be haunted. Not that ghosts exist, of course. I quickly push that fear away. I'm not a child.

  “I didn't hear anything,” Jake says calmly.

  I turn back to him.

  “I want to show you something,” he continues. “Come on, it's this way.”

  He turns and heads toward the door, but I grab his arm to hold him back.

  “I think maybe our wires are a little crossed,” I tell him. “It's totally my fault, but I think maybe I put out a version of myself that wasn't quite accurate. I'm all for having fun and exploring, but this house is just a little too creepy for me, okay? At night, anyway. I'm sorry if that makes me sound like some kind of wimp, but I'm really not the kind
of girl who likes to go creeping about in weird houses and disrespecting the memories of people who died nearby. I guess what I'm trying to say, in some kind of roundabout way, is that I think it's wrong for us to be here and I want us to leave.”

  He stares at me.

  “Maybe we can find an all-night cafe and grab a coffee?” I add, forcing a smile.

  He doesn't reply, and I'm pretty sure I know what's wrong. He thought we'd have sex, and maybe it's my fault for coming out here with him and giving him that idea, but there's no way I'm going to break one of my cardinal rules. I refuse to engage in anything physical with someone I don't know properly. I'm such an idiot, but I think perhaps it'd be best if I just go home and forget all about Jake, and learn from the experience.

  “I just want to show you something,” he says finally, and now a very faint smile has reached his lips. “Please, Hazel, just trust me, it's totally cool. It's something you won't see anywhere else, not ever. That's what your videos are about, isn't it? Finding new experiences?”

  “Sure, but...”

  My voice trails off.

  “I have over two hundred subscribers,” I continue, forcing a smile. “I know that's not a lot, but it's a start, and it's not bad considering I started from scratch just a year ago. So I'd love to come back here in the daytime maybe and film something, but...”

  Again, my voice trails off to nothing. I'm rambling, I know that, but to be honest I feel totally uncomfortable.

  “Sorry,” I stammer finally.

  “For what?”

  “For... I'm not sure.”

  He reaches a hand out to me, as if he wants to lead me through the doorway.

  “I don't know,” I reply, “I just -”

  “Please. For me. Stop worrying about every little thing.”