by Kevin Guest
Amy could not hold back. “We must leave this room. There is a hateful, vengeful entity in here. It’s watching us and wants us to die. Every moment we stay, its hatred grows.”
The group looked at her and decided to heed her advice. They moved into the next room, and Amy’s demeanor changed. She suddenly cried uncontrollably. Anderson walked to her. “What do you feel?”
“Absolute sadness and loss,” she said as she dabbed her eyes with her shirt. “Something in here lost the will to live and it allowed itself to be killed.” She slipped into a trance; she could see the horror before her eyes. As the group listened, she recounted the events.
“He woke just before his wife died, and he saw the look in her eyes, the look of hopelessness. She reached for him, but her hand fell to the bed as her soul slipped from her body. He was shocked, but even before he could react, someone grabbed and choked him. It was over before he knew it, but in death, he is trapped in this moment, unable to escape.”
Anderson put his hand on her shoulder. “What else do you see?”
“Someone is walking back into the living room, a man— wait— now he’s walking into the kitchen. He has found the liquor. Without hesitation, he drinks. Blood is all over his hands and face; everything he touches gets smeared with it. He finishes the bottle, then wanders back into the living room. In the corner, there is a desk with writing paper. He is writing something— he then pauses. Afterwards, he stumbles to the rocking chair, which is sitting in the middle of the room. He collapses into it, sulking.
“He sits there for hours, crying over what he has done. That’s all there is--wait, no. Later he is looking outside. He sees the cows graze in the pasture and the birds fly gracefully through the air, diving, picking off the first worms of the day, but he is not happy. He sits back down, tears running down his face— now he has a gun and points it into his chest. He shot himself.” Amy looked at Anderson. “I think that’s when everything changed. His energy unlocked the house. The animals left the property for adjoining pastures of different owners. The lowest creatures--wasps, ants, spiders, and the like--remained. They took up residence in the house, along with the unlocked spirits.”
Mary put her arm around Amy to comfort her. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s ok.”
Anderson turned and exited the room. The next room he found was the kitchen. For a moment, he imagined he could see the blood on the cabinets, smeared by hand. He smiled and knew he had to get equipment into this house.
As the group made their way into the entrance hall, they could hear a rocking chair going back and forth. Amy turned and peeked around the corner, compelled to look. She played her flashlight in the room, coming to a stop on the rocking chair. It was moving on its own. She froze for a moment then lowered the light. The glowing embers from a cigar suddenly appeared. She backed away slowly and rejoined the group.
As they exited, they noticed the wasps had calmed themselves. To his right, Anderson noticed a large tarp. Though the prospect of dealing with the wasps was unpleasant he, more than anyone else, wanted the electricity on. He tossed the tarp over himself and entered the small barn. The grommet holes provided very little viewing, but it was enough.
With care, he lifted the cover to the breakers. A yellow jacket nest of immense size, bigger than he had ever seen, hung before him. The wasps were shaking their wings, their attack mode on a hair trigger.
The panel was poorly labeled. Without knowing what was what, he switched all the breakers on, mumbling, “Well, we can clear this problem up.”
As the group waited, suddenly there was a voice from afar. “Where’s my daddy?”
The group hurried out of the building and into the midway. Again, the voice of a child called out, “Where’s my daddy?”
Amy could not sense anything.
They walked toward the sound. Suddenly the organ from the morgue blasted the area with a dirge. Amy screamed at Fletcher, “It’s just the special effects! Anderson must have turned them on!”
Anderson looked at the panel. The wasps were agitated by the noise. Some had taken flight; others danced around the nest, eager to attack. Anderson slowly began flipping the breakers off and on until the air was silent again. Slowly he lowered the cover and carefully exited the building. As he walked out, he looked at the morgue. Suddenly he was interested to see what was on the other side. He looked at the group. “Let’s continue.”
Fletcher took the lead. “Let me show you what we already found.” He walked over and slid open the barn door, revealing the theater. With the power on, the old lights lit the room. As the group walked down the single aisle to the stage, he explained the embalming room. Anderson opted not to visit it at this time; his leg was bothering him too much.
The group left the theater and walked to the south side of the building. There they saw the entrance used by customers. Anderson pointed. “Let’s try that.”
He walked over, careful not to get his cane stuck in the mud. The small door creaked as it was opened. He walked in, observing the tall ceiling and large space. “This must be where they kept the hearse.”
Fletcher prodded, “Let’s walk forward and see where it takes us.”
The group walked forward, thankful the utility lights were on. As they passed through another door, it opened to the outside and revealed the paupers’ graves. They followed the pathway, careful to avoid the ant mounds that were everywhere. In addition, the bushes were overgrown and the fence surrounding the small area was in disrepair.
As they made their way around the vegetation, they came to a large metal door. Amy could feel the energy. “That’s the utility door.”
Anderson grabbed rusty old handle and the door slid open. Before them was an old metal stairway. Without hesitation, Anderson handed his cane to Mary, grabbed the rail and began the ascent.
As the group entered the top floor, it was a single room with a few open closets. The room was sterile, like an operating room. Fletcher motioned to Anderson. “It’s similar to the embalming room under the stage.”
Anderson put his hand up. “It is the embalming room. I don’t know what’s under the stage, but this room was used with the morgue. It fits the history.”
Amy walked around, touching the old fixtures and medical equipment. “This is not a room of despair, but of kindness. This facility was used for good purposes. There is no ill intent here.”
As they explored the top floor, they came across a secret door that opened into the theater. From here, a person could view the ceremony below. Fletcher pointed his flashlight upward and found an old pulley system. “I bet that was first used to load bales of hay.”
Anderson scanned it. “Yes, but Mr. Maybrick used it to bring the caskets in and out of the embalming room.”
There was no direct exit from the upper floor to the theater. They had to go back the way they came. As they walked down the stairs, Amy felt as if she was being watched. She held on to Mary, thankful they were leaving.
The group found their way out of the morgue and started back to the manor, but Anderson had to see the Dungeon. He thought to himself, So what if this was not a part of the original property. As much as I paid, would the owner really mind?
He grabbed a crowbar out of the ticket booth and pried the door open. He scanned the walls until he found a light switch. It was unusually high on the wall. He turned to Fletcher. “Guess that’s so the customers don’t ruin the show.” Fletcher just looked at him. He was concerned that Anderson was overstepping his bounds.
Inside, all they found was an empty building with stacked props, wood, and design notes. Anderson walked amongst the building supplies until he came across a cooler. He opened it and to his delight, it was filled with beer. Mary stepped forward and shut the lid. “It’s not ours, let it be!”
He rolled his eyes as they walked out of the building. Fletcher did his best to secure the door, then caught up with them. As they approached the iron gate outside the manor, Jessie was standing ther
e with her hands on her hips. “Where have y’all been? Breakfast has been on the table for fifteen minutes!”
Anderson opened the door to the house and was amazed. Where he had felt his way in before, the entrance now made sense. In the dark, it felt as if he was going from room to room, but instead he was only going from the entrance through an archway and into the main living room. The darkness was quite deceiving.
The group walked into the living room, and Jessie took the lead. “Well, while y’all were off exploring the property, I got to see the beauty of the house firsthand.”
Amy thought, There is nothing beautiful about this place. The manor looked more like a museum than a house. The staircase, intricately carved, stood out in the full light. The wood floor was beautifully preserved. All around them were details they had missed. Jessie urged them to go into the dining room.
As they entered, they were amazed at her service. The table was filled with eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, jelly, doughnuts, fruit, and juices. The flatware was shiny, as if it was brand new. The plates, a brilliant white, were spotless. She had found two candles, lit them in the center of the table, and surrounded them by flowers. Underneath it all lay a beautiful tablecloth with gold and red trim.
The group was not only mesmerized by the elaborate breakfast and display, the room itself was magnificent. The walls of the dining room were covered in a red and white floral pattern that ran halfway down the wall, where oak wood took over and ran to the base. The paintings, two on each wall, framed the room and gave it character. Each of the paintings was different, from a scene of the Roman coliseum to the hills of Tennessee. It was a dining room fit for the wealthy.
The mood at breakfast was somber. The only one truly enjoying himself was Anderson. So far, he was pleased with his investment. As he looked about the table, he lifted his glass of orange juice. “To Reindeer Manor: may she be as good as we hoped!”
The group raised their glasses and half-heartedly joined the toast.
Amy glanced down at Anderson. “You don’t seem to be heeding my warning.”
He bit off a piece of apple. “And what warning would that be?”
“That this house is dangerous. You seem to be taking the situation a bit lightly.”
He squinted his eyes. “Well, how do you propose I proceed?”
“Cautiously. Don’t just barrel into a situation without thinking it through. We are not here as guests of this place, but as exploiters. You’re doing this for fame and fortune, ignoring the dangers.”
Anderson shook his head. “I have seen no dangers.”
Amy looked at the group. Everyone was staring at her. “Look at this room: it’s intricately decorated. Even in a year, with proper planning, you could not achieve such a look. This room is a warning that this place is to be respected and appreciated for what it is. The ghosts that haunt this house are not here for your amusement, and if you ignore what they’re telling you, you’ll pay a hefty price for your arrogance.”
Anderson set his fork down and sighed, “Well, let’s hope you’re wrong, because I’m here to finish a lifetime of work, and I expect your best at all times.”
“I’m giving you my best right now, whether you like it or not!”
Fletcher enjoyed the little exchange. After finishing his breakfast, he sat back and lit a cigarette. “So Professor, tell us about the morgue. What exactly was Amy describing?”
Anderson pushed his plate away. “Really, do we have to go through that again? I’m not telling the history on purpose. I need your ignorance, for only then can your deductions have value.”
Fletcher sighed. He was growing tired of this game. “When will you tell us?”
Anderson smirked, raised his glass, and said, “Soon, Junior!” The glass exploded in his hand. Jessie gasped. Anderson stood in shock. The table began to shake violently. Everyone scooted back. Suddenly every glass on the table exploded. One plate after another flew across the room. The candles went up in a massive fireball as the wax poured all over the table. Amy dodged a fork as it flung itself from Fletcher’s set.
Anderson stood there, still in shock. Mary yelled, “For God’s sake, duck!”
He looked at her, then fainted. The rest were dumped out of their chairs and to the floor. The chairs hit the ceiling and stayed there. Forks, spoons, and knives imbedded themselves into the walls. The remaining food spilled all over the table. The fruit rotted instantly. The orange juice boiled until the glass shattered, sending the hot liquid in all directions. The tablecloth shot off the table and into the corner.
Everyone except Anderson, who lay passed out on the floor, covered their heads and then huddled against the wall. The wind in the room was furious. Noises of growling, snarling, and panting were so loud they could hardly hear themselves. Finally, the camera exploded into a thousand pieces as the tripod fell over and struck Anderson in the chest.
There was a long pause. Though the growling was gone, the air was heavy. The table began to jump and in one smooth motion, flipped upside down and planted itself on the ceiling.
A moment later, Fletcher was the first to look. He crawled against the corner in absolute terror. The others also looked up as they scampered along the wall.
The table, tablecloth, plates, silverware, glasses, food, fruit, candles, flowers, and chairs were completely upside down and on the ceiling. They watched, and at the end of the table, they could see the fork moving. Something was eating, something invisible.
As Anderson woke up, he panicked. Seeing the table above him caused him to lose his equilibrium. A moment later, he realized it was the furniture on the ceiling, not him. As he watched, a glass lifted itself to him, as if to propose a toast. He smiled at it and said, “James Junior.” As soon as he said it, the table, chairs, and everything suddenly crashed to the floor.
The group remained still for several minutes, fearful the attack was not over. They sat there, motionless for what seemed to be hours, but it was only a few minutes.
Finally, Fletcher looked at Anderson, “Shall we check the data?”
He nodded and slowly everyone returned to the living room. The recording showed everyone at the table until Anderson toasted Junior. At that moment, the recording stopped. However, the first camera to go out was the one in the chapel. It went out when Anderson toasted the property.
Fletcher lit a cigarette as he leaned against a wall in the living room. “Let’s not do that again.”
Outreach