The Haunting of Reindeer Manor

by Kevin Guest

† † †

  Downstairs, as Anderson grew weary of watching the stagnant monitors, his head fell backward. His eyes temporarily closed as he was daydreaming of grandeur. Though he wasn’t asleep, he failed to notice the bedroom cameras had ceased broadcasting.

  Jessie woke and lay in bed, horrified at her dream. It was a nightmare she had relived multiple times, but here, in the house, it seemed more real and magnified. The pain felt so real, and Fletcher--why had she dreamed of him? What was the connection? She sat up and looked at him, though he was sleeping peacefully on the floor. She wondered, was this because she didn’t want him in the bed? Surely not; perhaps it was only a dream.

  The room was dark and cold—so cold she could see her breath in the air. As she lay there, she felt utterly helpless. Again she fell back asleep.

  Moments later, Amy sat up, shivering. She could feel the entity. She allowed her thoughts to roam, trying to discover what was with her, but she could only feel the energy.

  She swallowed as she stood and observed the others. Fletcher and Jessie were calm and asleep. However, as she looked to her side of the bed, she realized she too was asleep. Her body lay there, shivering in the cold. It had been a long time since her last out of body experience, but it was still a bit shocking.

  Amy looked about the room. Something wanted her to leave. Her heart sank as her fear took over. The sensation was overwhelming and she quickly hurried from the room, shutting the door without a second thought.

  Once on the balcony, she felt better. She wondered, Am I truly having an out of body experience or am I just dreaming, and why am I thinking so rationally? Have I always had this much control of my dreams? Is this something I ask myself every night?

  As she questioned herself, she felt the presence of an entity moving downstairs. She turned, but could see nothing. She scanned the living room, but nothing seemed out of place. She felt the uncontrollable desire to go downstairs, as if something was calling to her.

  Slowly and cautiously she descended the stairs, looking all around. She suddenly feared being pushed. Goosebumps ran up and down her body as she grabbed the handrail, closed her eyes, and held on tight. She waited for the sensation to pass.

  A few moments later, she opened her eyes and continued down the stairs. As she walked from the staircase, a sensation pulled her to the front door; it wanted her to go outside. She was compelled to ask, “What do you want?

  No response.

  As she walked past Anderson, she paused and looked down on him. “Are you ok?”

  He ignored her and continued with his work.

  As she walked by, she snarled, “What a creep.”

  The entity continued its pull.

  As she came to the front door, she began to question her choice. Following the pull in the house was one thing, but going outside was another. She thought, What if I get hurt? The pull intensified and she had to go.

  The front door opened on its own, revealing the outside world to her. She took a deep breath and walked onto the porch. The air was warm and inviting, so much better than the sickly feeling of the house. The night was calm, as the storms had ended. There was a fresh grass smell in the air, as if a nearby farmer was baling hay.

  As she walked along the porch, the force seemed to call from the snack bar. As she stepped off the porch and onto the ground, it seemed to pull harder and harder. She was compelled to walk faster. She was about to enter the snack bar when she felt the entity coming from behind the small building.

  She followed the sensation, and it led her to the fence. She could hear music and noises from the other side. As she peeked through the slots, she could see a festival-like atmosphere. She followed along the fence to the gate, then emerged onto the hayride road. A loud horn blew and startled her as the tractor rolled by. She smiled at the people and they waved to her. She laughed and waved back. Suddenly fire erupted out of the gothic statues by the iron gate, startling her again. Then across the way, a flame shot out of the morgue; then a huge ball of fire exploded into the sky from the old gas station. It was an amazing sight, perfectly choreographed.

  Again she felt the pull of the entity and crossed the road and entered the midway. There were dozens of people playing games, laughing, and running around. Intermixed in the crowd were actors in Halloween costumes performing all kinds of entertainment.

  A person walked past her. “Good evening, Amy!”

  “Good evening.”

  They laughed as they walked away. She continued forward, looking at all the booths. The first was a tent with purple and yellow lights emanating from it. She had to go in.

  An old woman was sitting behind a table with a crystal ball on it. She was old, easily in her nineties, dressed in a blue robe with a yellow shawl. A red bandana covered her hair and thick glasses sat on her nose. “Sit down; let me tell of your future,” she said in a crackly voice.

  Amy walked in and had a seat. She placed her hands on the table as the woman began to rub the ball. Black and white smoke was churning inside it, with small flashes of lighting hitting the side. “Why, you’re very special. Your energy is a blessing upon this place! You are needed here and wanted, even desired!”

  “Well, it’s nice to be desired,” she said playfully.

  The old woman looked at her. “Yes, you have been expected here. Great pains have been taken to bring you in, and now that you’re here, even more pains are being taken to ensure you stay.”

  Amy smiled as the woman retracted her hands. “I do like it here.”

  The woman looked over her glasses. “Your future is great! You shall have a very long and interesting life. Thank you for stopping by; you have truly brightened my evening!”

  She stood and nodded at the old woman. As she walked from the tent, she could smell something wonderful. It was a grill in the next booth down, cooking hamburgers. As she passed by, a large friendly gentleman handed her one. “You look starved, try this!”

  She looked off to the side. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Silly girl, for you I would make a thousand hamburgers! Now you take this and enjoy it!”

  She graciously took the burger and bit into it. The juices ran down her chin as its wonderful goodness lay in her mouth. The flavor was heavenly. She stopped in her tracks so she could finish it. The man looked on, pleased that his efforts were causing so much satisfaction.

  After finishing the burger, she turned. “Thank you, you are a marvelous cook!”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Coming from you, that means a great deal.”

  She wondered what he meant. Why was her compliment of such value? She nodded to him and moved on to the next booth, the ‘Pimple Popper.’

  What a disgusting game, she thought. The balloons were filled with some sort of white cream or powder and attached to a large picture of a teenage face. The goal was to throw the darts and pop them, spraying everyone with the white substance. Ghastly, she thought.

  She did not try the game, instead moved on. The next game was more civilized, a life-size game of Operation. Several were playing and laughing as they touched the side, causing the lights and noisemakers to go off. It was rather amusing to watch. Their surprised faces made others laugh.

  Across the way she saw a giant blowup maze. She wandered over to it, but felt something sinister inside. Something did not want her to enter. She could hear growls from its interior. Quickly she turned away, and came face to face with a beautiful massage therapist. “Would you like to treat yourself?”

  Are you kidding? she thought. She gleefully smiled. “Of course!” After a week like this, who wouldn’t need a massage!

  The woman took her hand and guided her onto the table. Amy looked at the masseuse. “Do I need to be naked?”

  The woman laughed. “Of course not, this is a public place. Your nightgown will do fine.”

  “Nightgown?”

  “Well yes, that is what you’re wearing, unless it’s a part of a costume.”

  She thought
, Why am I in a nightgown? She couldn’t remember; it was all a blur. She could not even remember getting there. Her confused thoughts faded as the massage began. She lowered her head into the doughnut-shaped pillow and allowed the masseuse to do her task.

  Hours seemed to pass like minutes under the pleasure of the woman’s touch. In perfect proportion, all of her muscles were twisted, kneaded, stretched, and caressed with perfection. She felt like a queen, tended to by the peasant, but with such skills, the roles could easily be reversed.

  When it was done, she looked at the masseuse. “I wish I had something to give you.”

  The masseuse reached forward and caressed her hand. “No ma’am, serving you will always be my honor.” She smiled, then retreated into her booth and closed the curtain.

  Amy turned and continued, coming across a rather large screen showing acts of comedy. A man was playing with a puppet and argued with it about traffic reports and how only white people could enjoy NASCAR. She laughed until the act changed.

  As she moved on, she came across another food vendor. This one smiled at her and handed her a chopped beef sandwich, but she handed it back. “Thank you sir, but I am already full. The vendor across the way already fed me.”

  The man looked angry. He grabbed a cleaver and walked out of his booth. “That filthy dog, stealing my customers!”

  Amy grabbed the man’s arm. “Please, I’ll eat your sandwich. I’m sorry.”

  The man instantly cheered up. “Well now, that’s different!”

  She watched as he returned to his booth, and with great care, prepared another sandwich for her. She accepted and ate it. It was just as heavenly as the burger. The barbeque sauce was thick and sweet, with just a mild bite. The man stood there, gleefully watching her eat.

  When she was done, she paid him a compliment as well. “It’s a very good sandwich. Everything is good out here!”

  “Thank you ma’am, we have worked hard to please you!”

  She smiled and walked on, coming to a rather exciting booth, the hatchet throw.

  Delighted, she ran up to the booth. A long line of people waited to test their skill with the deadly weapon. She watched as a young boy hurled it with phenomenal speed and accuracy. The hatchet buried itself into a painted tree stump suspended from the back wall.

  A man dressed in a police uniform approached her. “Would you like to try?”

  She motioned with her hands toward the line. “It would not be fair to those who have waited for so long.”

  The policeman turned to the people and shrugged. Taunts of, “Try it! Go ahead! Don’t let a boy show you up,” billowed from the line.

  She nodded her head, nervously. “Well, if they don’t mind.”

  The policeman took her into the booth. “Now, don’t try to throw it at the bull’s eye. Instead, aim just above the target. Let the hatchet fling from your hand. You don’t have to throw it hard.”

  She took her stance, eyes just above the target, stretched back and flung the hatchet at the target. It slammed into the tree stump with a mighty clang and fell to the ground. A roar of laughter erupted at her girly throw.

  She eyed them and thought, I’ll show you what a girl can do! She retrieved the weapon, took her stance, then launched the hatchet, striking the bull’s eye and lodging the blade deep into the stump.

  “Hey, we have a winner!” yelled the policeman. The crowd cheered as she stepped out of the booth. As she passed by the line, they all patted her on the back and congratulated her on her marksman-like accuracy.

  She smiled and moved on, coming to the head-toss game. She curled her bottom lip, unsure how to take this sport. Apparently you threw shrunken heads into a basketball goal for prizes. A young group of boys giggled as they participated, but she passed it up. It was not as bad as the pimple popping game, but still repulsive.

  As she moved on, she came to a gift shop of sorts. She watched people buying hats, t-shirts, and all types of trinkets with Reindeer Manor written on them. A woman behind the counter looked at her. “Dear, you need a ticket. Run along, get in line; you don’t want to get left out!”

  Amy nodded her head and saw a group of people standing in line at the ticket booth. She walked over and joined them. Standing still gave her an even better view of the events at hand. Toward the morgue, young lovers sat by the bonfire, kissing and snuggling, while others exchanged texts. Old men sat, waiting for their grandkids to finish up, while others walked around, seemingly aimlessly.

  She looked beyond the bonfire and saw people winding through a maze of barricades. Monsters and other foul creatures walked alongside them, teasing and taunting the guests. It was easy to tell the sex of the actor. Young cute girls were the most frequent to gain the attention of the beasts. Amy watched one particular actor and his methods. What a silly game they were playing: a ritual of courting, it could be called, especially with this very handsome and very affectionate vampire. The girls were all too eager to have his lips upon their neck. Amy thought, Come bite me, you bad boy!

  Instantly the vampire came to her, as if she had called to him. “Why miss, what brings you out here on such an evening, do you not fear danger?”

  She decided to play along. “I have come in search of love and happiness. Be my count and I shall be your Mina.”

  He thrust his body to hers, taking her into his arms and softly biting her neck. She grasped him. “Yes, take me from all this death.”

  As he pulled back, she could see the blood on his lips, but she did not care. He bowed. “I shall return to you on the next full moon; rest ‘til then, my love.” He wandered off, back to the line, in search of more young victims.

  Moments later, the romantic beast was run off by a concerned mother. As he disappeared into the darkness, a light caught her eye. A searchlight danced in the sky, alerting people to the happy times that were afoot. As she watched the spotlight, it dropped, illuminating her. She laughed as she saw two drunken idiots fighting about where to put the light. However, the light illuminated her nightgown, making it mostly see-through. Catcalls and whistles erupted as she folded her arms over her chest. Her face became flustered and red, and she had a hard time hiding her embarrassment.

  Finally, to her relief, the search light was restored to its proper place amongst the clouds. The line continued to move forward until she was face to face with the ticket lady. “Oh my, what a bit of royalty we have here!”

  Amy eyed her. “I am not royalty.”

  “Oh but you are to us; you’re the customer!”

  Amy stepped back and looked around. “There are many customers here. Why am I so special?”

  The woman laughed. “Because, dear, they’re just customers. You’re THE customer!”

  She was confused but accepted it. “Well, I guess I need a ticket.”

  “Yes, you do. That will be thirty-five dollars!”

  Amy looked at her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to have any money.”

  The woman slammed the window shut as she screamed, “No money, no ticket!”

  Amy walked away, but one of the actors from the Dungeon of Doom saw what happened. He ran into the ticket booth and dragged the woman out by her hair. “Do you know who that is? Why would you put your soul at such risk?”

  The woman scowled. “All of us were like that once; now we’re brushed aside, used in the Master’s game.”

  The man dragged her by her hair as he called out, “Amy, Amy!”

  Hearing the voice, she turned. The man walked up to her and threw the ticket lady to ground. “Apologize, wench!”

  The woman cowered and held a ticket up. “Please forgive me and accept this ticket!”

  Amy felt an unearned sense of righteousness. Though she had never acted this way before, the emotion was overwhelming. She looked at the woman and scowled. “The next time I ask for a ticket, you better have one for me!” She turned, but the man stopped her. “No, she is not finished!”

  Amy nodded. “You’re correct.” She felt a s
ense of power over this woman. Humiliating her would make her more powerful. She raised an eyebrow to the kneeling woman, “I have walked out here in my bare feet; will you clean them for me?”

  The woman began to take off her shirt. She was an aging woman of considerable girth. The man protested, “Good God, woman don’t do that! We need not such a filthy display!”

  Amy laughed at the woman. “With your tongue, you filthy whore, lick my feet!”

  The woman crawled to Amy, who made no effort to raise her foot. The woman picked up the foot and held it up with her own strength, as not to impose on Her Majesty.

  Amy jutted out her chin; the woman’s tongue felt good between her toes. A crowd gathered and laughed at the woman, but they also praised Amy for her justice. The woman cried but licked every drop of mud from Amy’s feet, until they looked freshly bathed.

  When it was over, Amy turned around. “You may thank me.”

  The woman puckered her lips and placed them upon Amy’s backside. She then turned. “Take her away.”

  One of the men snatched the ticket lady by the hair. “She will pay for her dishonor, Your Majesty!” She watched him drag her to the Dungeon of Doom. As Amy stood there with her head held high, she relished the sudden horrific screams of agony and pain.

  A moment later, she felt the entity pulling her back to the manor. She turned and crossed over the hayride road and passed the snack bar. Instead of going into the line, she walked past it and directly to the front entrance where a man in a long striped suit and a yellow tie greeted her. His face was painted white, with dark circles around his eyes. “Good evening Amy, I am the host. Care to tour the manor?”

  What a strange question, she thought. I live in the manor. However, for his amusement, she decided to play along. “Sure.” She walked forward, but he stopped her.

  “Ticket, please.”

  She handed him the ticket, then he opened the door for her. She walked into the darkness. The host closed the door and then another one opened. As she entered, she was shocked. Instead of being inside the manor, she was in her mother’s trailer. Her mother was sitting on the couch as usual, a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other, and Jerry Springer on the television.

  Confused, Amy sat down next to her mother. “What’s going on?”

  Her mother looked at her. “Shhh, my favorite commercial is coming on.”

  Confused, she sat back and looked at the screen. It flashed; then showed a picture of Reindeer Manor. Afterwards, the host who had taken her ticket was speaking. “Bring your family! Bring your friends! Come on down to Reindeer Manor; you’ll be here forever!”

  Amy stood, feeling quite uneasy. She walked through the small kitchen and down the hallway to the end, to her old room. She walked in and closed the door, but when she turned around, she was back in the house, in the chapel!

  She saw a man and a woman standing on either side of the altar. “Good evening Amy, thank you for joining us.”

  Suddenly she felt the same dread as she felt from the room at the end of the balcony. The air was cold and the atmosphere was heavy.

  The man smiled at her, “My wife and I welcome you to our humble home. Please join us; we are about to take communion in worship of our lord.”

  Amy scowled. “Your lord is no lord. He’s an abomination to nature. His rule is only temporary.”

  “No my dear, he is forever, as we are, and if you join us now, so shall you be!”

  Amy shook her head as she backed away. Slowly, making sure to keep her eyes focused on them, she backed out of the room. The feeling under her feet was strange. She looked down and was standing on a dirt floor. She looked up, and she was in the theater.

  Instantaneously sparklers went off. Loud carnival music began to play, giant spinning wheels, each of multiple colors, spun all around, and the audience stood, cheering wildly! Amy walked forward as an usher, dressed in a black suit with a red bow tie, grabbed her by the arm, Oddly enough; he spoke with a British accent. “Come on miss, you were almost late!” He rushed her to her seat, then hurried back to the entrance. Amy smiled as the wondrous show began. Her memory seemed to be continually refreshing itself, blocking out what she didn’t want to know, rendering her in a state of bliss.

  The theater was nothing like before. She envisioned it as the parlor for funerals, a part of the morgue, but perhaps history had forgotten this part. She looked at the long red velvet curtains that lined the newly built and polished stage. Out of the wings came a man with extremely long legs, dressed in a red and white suit, yellow bow tie, and a red top hat. He was kicking his legs skyward and flinging his arms as he spun around. The crowd cheered wildly for him.

  Back and forth he went, in the most comical way, until he settled in the center of the stage. With a loud and jovial voice, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the other side of the mirror!”

  Actors of all kinds emerged, spinning, tumbling, and cartwheeling from the wings. They were dressed in rabbit costumes, bear costumes, even two-person horse costumes. A magician dressed in a classic tuxedo ran across the stage, pulling one rabbit after another from his hat. Fire jugglers came from both sides, juggling independently, then together. A man on a giant bike rolled by, a woman with two heads came out blowing kisses to the audience, the fattest man on earth was rolled out on his side by midgets, and the bearded lady followed, playing the tambourine. Finally, dancers dressed in white silk ran out, spinning black and white umbrellas, as rain, thunder and lightning erupted from the top of the stage.

  The audience gave a standing ovation. For the last act, an illusionist dressed in all black, with a long black beard, earrings, and jet-black hair, stepped to center stage. Women of all nationalities pushed a massive table behind him.

  The illusionist looked out upon the audience. “I need a volunteer.”

  Amy looked around, but everyone else was gone. She was the audience.

  The illusionist looked down at her and frowned. “Did you not hear me? I need a volunteer!”

  The usher ran over. “Oh please miss, you must! It would crush them if you refused! Please, we’re all cheering for you!”

  Amy stood, reluctantly. She was not one to volunteer at such public events. Slowly, she walked around to the stairs. As she stepped on stage, everyone bowed to her. The feeling of self-righteousness returned. She held out her arms as the women walked over and gently picked her up, then set her on the massive table. She looked over at a young woman, who admired her hand. “You may,” she said with a sadistic smile.

  The woman looked grateful, then kissed her hand. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Amy looked away, as if the kiss of affection meant nothing to her.

  The illusionist walked over. “Have we been treating you well?”

  Amy smiled. “Yes, it’s been wonderful! These people are so submissive--what a wonderful environment you have!” Slowly, without her knowledge, the illusionist strapped each of her limbs down as Amy continued, “These people are great servants; oh, how I wish I could take some of them home with me. How I would use them.”

  The illusionist stepped away. “Good, I am glad you have enjoyed yourself. We worked very hard to get you.”

  Amy tried to sit up, but the straps held. “Get me? What do you want with me?”

  Suddenly she was shoved down. As her head hit the table, she saw the woman from the chapel standing over her. “Did you enjoy me?”

  Amy realized that foul, self-righteous spirit was not her own, but that of the woman. She kicked but could not get free. As she turned her head, to her horror, she realized she was back in the chapel.

  At her feet stood the man, smiling in an evil manner. “Did we forget to introduce ourselves? I’m James Junior, and this is my beloved wife.” He bowed to her. “And now to your question…yes, my dear, we have worked very hard to get you!”

  He slowly walked forward as Amy kicked and screamed, but she could not free herself. Junior’s arms came from his back, revealing
a long knife, intricately decorated. He looked up at the pentagram. “A sacrifice for you, oh lord!”

  Amy screamed as he stabbed her in the stomach. Mrs. Sharp laughed, then leaned over, kissing her forehead. “You shall be my slave now and I shall use you like no other!”

  Junior smiled and retracted the knife. He laid it upon her throat. “And now we are complete.”

  The knife slid across her throat…

  Amy woke in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly. Quickly she felt her throat and her stomach for any wounds, but there were none. She sighed and looked at her companions. Fletcher and Jessie were still asleep.

  The room was cold, dark, and quiet. She stood up, scanning the room, rubbing her shoulders. Suddenly, a gray figure was in front of her. Though it had no face, she could tell it was Junior. The figure did not give chase; instead, it lunged for her and entered her body. She fell back onto the bed, writhing in pain. Her eyes felt as if they were being pushed out from the inside. Though she screamed and threw her body to and fro, Jessie and Fletcher lay undisturbed, deep in their own nightmares.

  A moment later, Amy stood and walked from the room.

  † † †

  Anderson turned as Amy came down the stairs. Her face was blank, showing no emotion of any kind. He looked at her. “Are you all right?”

  She gazed upon him. “Creep.”

  He watched as she walked into the entryway and out of the house. Quickly he grabbed his cane and went after her. “Amy! Come back!”

  He walked out of the house just in time to see her going behind the snack bar. He rushed after her, having trouble with his cane. The saturated ground provided little support.

  As he emerged from the fence, by the hayride road, he scanned the area. Finally, he saw her in the distance, walking toward the Morgue. “Amy, get back here!”

  Struggling on the soft ground, he went after her. The midway was full of potholes, standing water, and mud. Slowly he made his way across, having to wrestle his cane from the ground several times.

  He came up to the morgue. The barn door was slightly ajar. As he entered, he flipped on the lights. There on the stage, under the screen, lay Amy, fast asleep. Gently he woke her, and escorted her back to the manor, where she returned to her room and to bed.

  Afterwards, he returned to his chair and resumed his work. Silly child, he thought, sleepwalking in such a place.

  All the assistants were asleep and at peace, from Anderson’s point of view. He, however, was unable to rest.