by John Simpson
“Well, needless to say, I had a great time too. It felt good to have someone in bed with me.”
“I’m glad I was the man who kept you company,” Mark said. “I hope we can do this again soon.”
“I don’t see why not,” Ryan said as he leaned over and kissed Mark on the lips.
When they finished breakfast, Mark gathered his things and left for home to make a quick change. The office was waiting on him, and he couldn’t show up in his “date” clothes. As Ryan returned to the table for more coffee, Scott came in with his own cup and sat down.
“Did you have a good time last night?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, I did. Mark’s a nice man and not only does he look good, he has a brain as well. I was so tired of the brainless twinks that are everywhere you look in L.A. that I was contemplating becoming celibate. Now, I no longer have to consider that desperate option.”
“Was he good in bed?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells, but yeah, he was,” Ryan said with a laugh and a wink.
“Nice. Now all I have to do is find someone for me to play hide the salami with.”
“Well, surely you must have broken some hearts in New York, no? And certainly there have to be men who would love a shot at you that didn’t get a chance, right?”
“Oh, there’s a couple, but I don’t want them traipsing up here to Audubon, turning your fine home into a whorehouse either. Now, if I had a guy that I was serious about, I’d come to you and talk about having him as a guest occasionally. But there’s no one right now.”
“Well I appreciate the consideration that you’re giving my home. If you find a man you’re into, please tell me, and I’m sure I’ll have no problem with him staying here once in a while.”
“Thanks, boss. Now all I need is the man!”
Scott got up and cleared the table as Ryan headed upstairs.
After a nice long hot shower, Ryan dressed and went to his office. He needed to decide what to do with that old building soon. It gave him the creeps each time he thought about the purpose that it once served. Why hadn’t his uncle had the damn thing torn down instead of leaving it sitting there?
He picked up the phone and called a local building contractor.
“Henson Construction,” a man said.
“Hello. This is Ryan Belcrest at Stanton Hall. Do you tear down and remove buildings as well as build them?”
“Well, it depends on the size. We don’t take down tall office buildings, nothing like that. We don’t deal with dynamite, you see—too many damn permits nowadays.”
“No, this is a one-story building, formerly a crematorium. Could you stop out here sometime soon and take a look at it, maybe give me an estimate on its removal?”
“Certainly, sir; how about tomorrow around eight a.m.? Would that be all right?”
“That’s fine. Do you know where I’m located?”
“Sure do. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
After Ryan hung up, a chill went down his spine for no apparent reason. Every time he thought of the old crematorium, he felt an unexplained dread. He was no little boy who was easily scared, but he had to admit places like that just creeped him out.
After lunch, he decided to take a nap since he didn’t get much sleep the night before. As he approached his bedroom door, he found it open, even though he always closed it. Scott knew to close it when he was done making up the bedroom.
As Ryan walked into the room, he found a large fire in the fireplace. After the surprise wore off, he picked up the phone and dialed the intercom for the kitchen.
“Yes, boss?”
“Scott, did you build a large fire in my fireplace and leave my bedroom door open?”
“What? No, I made up your room as usual, and I’m sure I closed the door on the way out. Did you find a fire in your room?”
“Yeah, and I’m a little upset by it.”
Ryan hung up and looked around the room. He walked over to the closet and opened the door half expecting to find someone hiding there. The only things he saw were supposed to be there. As he turned around, Scott came in.
“Wow, that’s some fire! You didn’t build it?”
“Nope, and if you didn’t, then I don’t know who the hell did. I suppose the door could just have swung open on its own if you didn’t latch it tight enough, but this! I don’t understand this at all. It’s not cold enough for a fire in the first place.”
“First the knife in the kitchen and now this. Weird,” Scott said with a raised eyebrow.
“I was going to lie down, but it’s too damn warm in here. I’ll nap on the sofa downstairs and leave this door open to warm the rest of the house.”
Ryan and Scott walked downstairs together, each thinking about the strange events. Scott was the one who finally asked. “Do you think this place has a ghost?”
Ryan smiled. “Do you really believe in ghosts?”
“Well, I never rule out something that I can’t prove or disprove. If you didn’t light the fire, and I didn’t light the fire, then who did?”
THE rest of the day passed peacefully with another excellent dinner prepared by Scott. Ryan was very pleased with how his butler was working out, and he reminded himself to find a way to reward Mark for finding Scott. As Ryan climbed into bed, he decided not to make a fire. Giving the fireplace a dubious glance, he reached over and picked up his uncle’s journal. He skimmed ahead looking for anything odd and landed on a date that held promise.
December 23rd, 2000
As the cold winter winds howled at my windows, I drew the covers up tighter around my neck. The fire didn’t seem to be giving off its normal warmth and it began to grow cold in my bedroom. As I lay there trying to fall asleep, the fire suddenly went out. I sat up in bed, but could not ascertain why this had occurred.
I jumped out of bed after turning on the light, and walked over to the fireplace. Not only had the fire gone out, the fireplace was stone cold! As I stood there trying to figure out what had happened, I distinctly felt a pinch on my ass once more! It scared the bloody hell out of me and when I turned, no one was there! I was beginning to think that there might just be something to the existence of ghosts after all. Christmas Eve was only one day away, and I wished for peace throughout the house. I’ll speak to the housekeeper tomorrow to ask if she has encountered anything odd.
So, even though I wasn’t in my uncle’s old bedroom, the fireplaces seemed to be some sort of conduit for the hereafter. Ryan decided to talk to Mark about it the next morning. He closed the journal, not wanting to read anymore for the moment, and tried to fall asleep.
Just as he crossed over into sleep land, all hell broke loose. He heard running footsteps in the hallway and banging on his door.
“Ryan! Wake up, Ryan!” Scott shouted.
Ryan jumped out of bed and ran to the door, unlocking it to find a very upset butler. Scott rushed into the bedroom and turned around to look at Ryan.
“What the hell is wrong?” Ryan asked.
“There’s some kind of weird shit going on here! I got into bed and fell asleep about ten minutes ago and was having a very sexy dream. But I woke up and felt someone rubbing my dick into a hard-on! Only… there was no one there!” Scott swallowed hard before he continued. “I know you won’t believe me, but I saw the covers moving even though my hands were on top of the comforter!”
Chapter Five
IT TOOK Ryan almost an hour to calm Scott down, and he reassured the butler that he didn’t doubt him for one moment. Scott didn’t think he’d able to fall asleep on his own, so Ryan offered Scott his bed, and the two slept together.
When Ryan woke up the next morning, Scott was gone, and he had barely twenty minutes to dress before a representative of the construction company arrived.
As Ryan ran through his shower and got dressed, he went over the details of the night before. He was beginning to believe that they really did have a ghost and had no idea what to do about it.
He
raced downstairs and found Scott in the kitchen. “Good morning. I hope I didn’t keep you awake last night. I don’t wanna look like a kid, but that scared me pretty bad.”
“I don’t blame you at all; I believe that it happened exactly like you described. There have been several of little things going on that are out of the ordinary. Also, in reading my uncle’s journal, I’ve found that there were similar events occurred in the past.”
“Fucking unreal. Do you want your breakfast?”
“I’ve got someone showing up any minute, so I’ll just have coffee and wait ’til lunch to eat.”
As Ryan sat at the table drinking his coffee, he decided that he would also call the young priest who had performed his uncle’s burial service. It made more sense to call him than Mark. What could an attorney do to a ghost? Sue it?
The doorbell rang, and Ryan gulped down the rest of his coffee as Scott answered the door. The butler showed the caller into the study and informed Ryan that his visitor had arrived.
“Good morning, I’m Ryan Belcrest; thank you for coming out so soon after my call.”
“I’m Dave Henson of Henson Construction, and it’s my pleasure. Let’s take a look at this building, and then I can tell you if we can do the job for you,” the middle-aged man replied.
“Great! Let’s take a walk.”
Ryan escorted Mr. Henson to the building where they spent almost a half hour going over it. Finally, Mr. Henson had seen enough.
“Sure, we can take this down and haul it away. Now that I’ve seen it and taken measurements, I’ll go back to my office and run the figures. You’ll get something in the mail… probably the day after tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”
“That would be great, and the sooner the better, as far as hauling this away,” Ryan said with a look over his shoulder as they walked away from the building.
Ryan said goodbye to Henson and went into his office to call the priest. He pulled out his card and dialed the rectory number.
“St. John’s,” answered a young-sounding female voice.
“Yes, Father Ken, please.”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“This is Ryan Belcrest.”
“One moment, please, I’ll see if the Father is in.”
After a minute or so, Ryan heard, “This is Father Ken. How are you, Ryan?”
“Hello, Father. I’m fairly well, but I have a problem that I want to discuss with you.”
“A problem?”
“Yes, the kind that the Catholic Church specializes in, I’m afraid,” Ryan said.
“Oh, that sounds interesting. I’m going to be out that way later today; I could stop in, if that’s convenient.”
“That would be great. About what time?”
“Oh, say, around four o’clock?”
“That’ll be fine, Father. I’ll see you then.”
Ryan felt better after hanging up with the priest. Maybe the house needed an exorcism or something. Maybe the answer was in his uncle’s journal. If the house really were haunted, how difficult would it be to make the place livable? Should the house just be sold?
Ryan walked into the kitchen to speak with Scott. “Father Ken is coming over this afternoon around four o’clock. What are you making for dinner?”
“Oh, nothing special. It’s just gonna be pasta with meat sauce and a salad. Did you want something different?”
“No, that’s great. Just make enough for the three of us in case Father Ken stays for supper.”
“Sure will. What kind of building are you having torn down?”
“Ah, actually, it’s an old crematorium from the days when my family was in the funeral business,” Ryan answered with a frown.
“A crematorium? You’re kidding, right? Please, tell me you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m afraid not. I didn’t know the damn thing was here until I took a walk the other day and went inside the building for the first time. Its former function is the main reason I want it torn down and hauled away—that and I don’t want a building on the property that’s going to ruin.”
“No wonder we have ghosts! Are you going to bring this up to the priest?”
“Yes, that’s why I asked him to stop by. I figured his advice is probably better than anyone else’s on this particular issue.”
“This ought to be an interesting dinner,” Scott remarked as Ryan left the kitchen.
With all the talk of ghosts, Ryan decided to head back up to his bedroom and read more of his uncle’s journal. As he settled on the sofa, Ryan looked around to see if anything appeared out of the ordinary. Satisfied that he was alone, he opened the journal to where he had left off and began to read.
Christmas Eve, 2000
A light snow has fallen which has covered everything and turned Stanton Hall into a winter wonderland. This old house is never as pretty as when a fresh snowfall decorates it and the surrounding landscape. I’ll be going to midnight Mass with a couple of friends and then back to the house for drinks and a late night snack. I love this time of year!
Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove, Denise Blanchard, William Blair, and my housekeeper all enjoyed the offerings of Stanton Hall, with the guests leaving precisely at two a.m. It was a wonderful night—until I was alone in the house and headed for bed. As I climbed the staircase, I heard the sound of a young man crying, coming from somewhere in the house. I thought that perhaps one of the guests had brought a male child who was accidentally left behind. I searched the entire first floor and found nothing. I walked half of the second floor and the crying stopped. I was unable to locate its source.
I locked myself into my bedroom, stirred the fire and added three more logs to warm up the room. I undressed and climbed into bed and watch the dancing flames. I began to fall asleep when, all of a sudden, the crying resumed. Only this time it was more like a wailing! The deep sorrow in the lamentations gave ample proof that whoever he was, he was in dire distress. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to shut out this wailing on Christmas morning!
Finally, the piercing noise ceased and all was quiet. It had ended as suddenly as it had begun. I waited for a few minutes and when I heard nothing, I rolled over and tried to get to sleep.
Christmas Day, 2000
I arose at 8 o’clock and found the housekeeper had come and gone, leaving me a hot breakfast in the oven. As I walked around the first floor once again, I tried to determine if I had a ghost. As hard as I tried, I could come up with no other explanation for what had occurred.
Ryan closed the journal and sighed. “So, I have a ghost in the house, after all. That’s just great.” Is it connected to that damn building? Should I tell Scott?
Ryan was happy that he had read the journal entry before his meeting with Father Ken. He was now better armed with information to give the priest. Ryan didn’t know how it was done, but he was sure he wanted Father Ken to exorcise the spirit. If a ghost started screaming throughout the night, Ryan might just lose someone that he had become fond of as well as dependent on: Scott.
He looked at the clock on the mantel and saw that he was late for lunch. He jumped up and went to the dining room where he found lunch waiting. As he sat, Scott came through the swinging doors and took a seat as well.
“Decided to eat lunch today since I missed breakfast. How’s your day going so far?” Scott asked.
“I’ll let you know after my meeting with Father Ken. Look, Scott, I was trying to figure out if I should tell you this, but you have a right to know.”
“Oh, shit, what now?”
“If there was any doubt in your mind, let it be there no longer. We do have a ghost.”
“Oh? And you figured this out how?”
“I found entries in my uncle’s journal that detail his experiences with the ghost, beginning in 2000. I’m going to finish reading it to see exactly what happened around here and if he ever figured out who the ghost is.”
“Leave it to me to get a great job in a haunted house! Look, Ryan, I don’t mind te
lling you, this information leaves me a little concerned. I can fight off attackers; beat up a burglar or two, but a ghost? That’s a whole different kettle of fish.”
“I know it’s uncomfortable, but I’ll learn how to deal with it.”
“Uncomfortable? You’re not the one that the ghost is feeling up! It’s my dick he seems to have taken a liking to!”
Ryan laughed. “Sorry. I know this isn’t funny to you. I don’t think it is, either, but it’s not every day you hear someone complain about being molested by a ghost!”
“I can tell you that there’s nothing enjoyable about the experience, but if you’d like to find out, I’ll tell the ghost you’re interested.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t believe in taking someone’s boyfriend away from them,” Ryan said with a laugh. “Not even an invisible boyfriend.”
“Oh, funny, that is…. Okay. I’ll see what I can do for you!”
“In all seriousness, you won’t leave me over this, will you?” Ryan asked with a worried look.
“Leave? Well, not if I can help it, I won’t. But I gotta tell ya, I might want to sleep with you again if this keeps up.”
“I’ve heard a lot of excuses and reasons from guys who wanted to get into my bed, but a ghost is a new one on me!”
Both men laughed and finished their lunch. Afterward, Scott cleared the dishes, and Ryan went upstairs to his bedroom. He wanted to read more of the journal so he’d have more information for his meeting with Father Ken.
A LITTLE after four o’clock, Father Ken arrived, and Scott showed him into the living room. “Can I fix you a drink, Father? You might need it,” Scott said with a laugh.
“Sure, I’ll have a cocktail. How about a martini? Vodka, with an olive?”
“Coming right up.”
“Hello, Father, thank you for coming,” Ryan said as he entered the living room.
“Hi, you’re more than welcome. I only hope I can help you out with whatever your problem is,” the priest replied as he took his drink from Scott.