by James Hold
***
I was more than just a little disappointed to find the house still standing as we pulled into the driveway leading up to it. Wasn’t Kansas known for its wicked tornadoes? I was even more disappointed to find Joanna standing on the porch with her gloved hands crossed over the front of her skirt.
“What is she still doing here?” I turned to Joey whose eyes widen into the very picture of innocence as he shrugged.
“Don’t ask me. The setup crew told her to clear out before the sun went down.”
“Well, it’s not night yet.” I muttered as I pressed the button to release the seatbelt. “Maybe she is hoping for one more monologue on camera.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Joanna bounded down the front stairs with a dexterity I found surprising given the layer of skirts she was wearing. “You’re back.”
Elliot stepped out just as she came to a halt in front of the car. I didn’t miss the disappointment in her voice as the woman continued. “You’re all back.”
“Of course we are.” I slammed the car door as Joey began to unload our equipment. “We are supposed to start filming tonight, right?”
“Yes, well,” Joanna’s disappointment turned into a sickening sweetness. “I just thought, since you were hurt, Elliot here might need someone to stand in as co-host.”
“So you wanted to take my place.” I tilted my head in her direction as I turned towards Elliot. “I don’t think she realizes what we are here to do.”
“You are here to document my darling Catherine and Samuel.” Joanna’s eyes flashed. “I wanted to make sure the show was still going to happen despite your breakdown earlier.”
“Breakdown. How nice.” I had a sharp retort ready, but swallowed it down as I remembered the ironclad contracts and flight across the country. “Ok. Let’s start over, shall we? Ms. Whitaker, I am fine. I did not have a breakdown. I saw Catherine.”
“You saw her?” Joanna gasped, placing her hands over her heart. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I am not going to say anything more. You will see our evidence when we are finished. I believe this was in your contract to Theia Productions which allows us to film here in the first place. Now if you will excuse us, we need to make sure this location is secure.”
I gestured for Cyrus to follow behind me as Joey took Ms. Whitaker by the arm to escort her to her own vehicle. When we got to the porch, I turned to him.
“Are you sure I can do this?” Even outside in the fading afternoon sunlight, the darkness of this place was starting to surround me. “Because I’m starting to think this was a very bad idea.”
“You can always leave.” Cyrus shrugged. “I will do what I can to explain to Apollo why you decided against being a part of this horrible television show. Perhaps you can attend conferences much like Ms. Carter did.”
“No,” I sighed as I watched Elliot and Joey. I decided to ignore what he said about conferences. I’d had enough of those for a lifetime. “Those two are depending on me. I won’t let them down but Cyrus, you have got to tell me how it is you are able to talk to Apollo someday. I am curious about it. Do you go somewhere sacred? Does the room shake when he speaks?”
Cyrus gave me his lopsided grin and waved his ever present cell phone in the air next to his head. “Text messages. The golden one loves human technology. He uses it every chance he gets.”
Well that explained why Cyrus was so attached to his smart phone. I chuckled and snatched it from him. “Let me see.”
“Actually,” Cyrus pulled out a flat phone much like his own, except this one was encased in a shiny gold case. “Apollo asked me to give you this.”
“A gift?” I took the phone with more than just a little hesitation. “Why?”
“So you won’t burn candles on his mirror anymore.” Cyrus smirked at my surprise. “Yeah, he told me all about your little spell back in New York.”
“You found out about that?” I grimaced. “Did I cross a line or something?”
“Or something. There are no rules saying you can’t contact him directly. In fact, Apollo found it amusing. Hence, the cell phone. He thinks you are quite the entertaining creature.”
Cyrus leaned over my shoulder, touching the sun symbol on the screen and a blank screen popped up. “Here. This is how you contact him.”
“So no more candles?”
“Pray, no. It took me two hours to scrub the wax from the glass. I do not wish to do that again anytime soon.”
I was so busy teasing my keeper I failed to notice the other two had finished moving all the cases inside. Elliot came over and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I handed Cyrus back his own cell phone. “I want to see what you’ve been saying about me later.”
I let Elliot lead me inside as I sent my first message on my new phone to Apollo, crossing the threshold as I hit send.
Protect us, Golden One. I believe we are all going to need it.
The inside of the old farmhouse was quiet. It was almost peaceful. Elliot whistled as he stepped around the power cords running across the floors connecting large boom microphones to the walls. The tacky furniture remained, but it had been rearranged to give us some breathing room. I joined Joey next to the cases, pulling out the tape recorders we would need to pick up any audible noises made by Catherine or Samuel. We decided to use some of the more basic equipment to substantiate my communication with the spirits. Spirit boxes, digital recorders, motion sensors – all could be used to track the movements of the dead.
“It feels like a thunderstorm is brewing in here.” Elliot joined us. “The energies in this room are amazing.”
“If you say so.” I checked the batteries of the recorder in my hand, making sure to tuck a few extra ones in my pocket just in case. I may not have been a paranormal expert, but I’d seen enough television to know spirits liked to drain battery sources. A few extra couldn’t hurt in case we were stuck upstairs. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Really?” Elliot took the recorder I handed him. “Joey, let’s get some dialogue on film before we turn the lights off.”
“Sounds good to me.” Joey stood and lifted his camera onto his shoulder. He focused it onto me. “Just act natural. Be normal.”
Natural? Normal? In a house known for its tragedy? Where I knew there was a really big mirror with a really angry spirit inside of it?
Yeah, ok.
I nodded then moved to stand by the staircase. We were going to improvise our lines when talking about the history of the house. It was decided I should be the one to start, since I was officially coming out to the public as the Sibyl. Elliot shifted around the sofa and stood behind Joey.
“Welcome to the very first episode of Grave Messages.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I tucked them into my back pockets. “My name is Eva McRayne. I am joined by Elliot Lancaster and Joey Lawson. Tonight we are showcasing the Tillotson farmhouse which is located in the heart of the middle of nowhere otherwise known as Black Hollow, Kansas.
I was sure Joanna was not going to be pleased that I refused to use the term ‘murder house’ on television. It sounded too cheesy. Thankfully, the guys had agreed with me. I locked eyes with Elliot as I continued. “The local papers documented the deaths of two people –Catherine and Samuel Tillotson- here at this very house during the blizzard of January 1876. Their bodies were found weeks later after the ice had thawed. Catherine was nothing more than a pile of bones while her husband had stabbed himself to death. Since then, there have been numerous reports of paranormal activity within these walls.”
“Cut.” Joey grinned as he flipped the camera up towards the ceiling. “I’ve always wanted to say that. Anyway, so far, so good. Let’s get Elliot in there.”
Elliot moved over to stand next to me, introducing himself to the camera much as I had. But where I had gone into a brief history of the house, he focused on the paranormal activity.
“Locals claim to see shadow
figures walking through the rooms. Objects move around the rooms; sometimes thrown at unlucky visitors. Voices call out from the walls. In fact, we have had our own experience here earlier today.”
“Shall we?” I picked up the recorder I’d disregarded on the table next to the stairs. “We will start with the classic EVPs. Electronic voice phenomena. This will be our initial method for contacting the spirits. Then I will use my own gift, which will be featured later on during the show.”
Elliot took a second recorder and walked the length of the first floor. Joey was following behind, stopping to swing the camera back around to focus on the front room. He moved so quickly he almost knocked me over.
“What was that?”
“What?” I turned to see a shadow sweep across the room heading towards the stairs. I could see its outline against the windows. I beckoned for Joey to follow me as I approached the front. “Whose there?”
Strange noises began to fill the air around us; moans and creaks I would have caulked up to it being an old house. Elliot stood in the center of the room, firing off questions then pausing.
“Who are you?”
“Is anyone there?”
“What’s your name?”
He stopped only to allow the spirits a chance to answer. I went to stand beside him as he rewound the tape. His voice came through loud and clear. There were no answers to the first two questions. Yet on the third, a thin whisper could be heard beneath the white noise.
“Sibyl. I’m waiting.”
“Oh, wow.” Elliot grinned like a kid at Christmas as he replayed the message. “As you can see, folks, none of us were talking or moving when this was captured.”
I wanted to be happy for him, but I was shaken. I found Cyrus in the shadows and he gestured down to the equipment cases. I knew what he was referring to. I had hidden the mirror in my duffle bag. He was saying I needed it. I shook my head.
I wasn’t ready to contact Catherine. And even if I was, I’m sure the large mirror upstairs would be a much better conduit for the communications.
“Sibyl. Sibyl, come to me.”
I spun around to face the direction the voice was coming from. Joey had followed my lead, whistling as he spoke. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Catherine wants us to come upstairs.”
“So let’s go.” Elliot had his recorder ready as he leaned to the side, attempting to look up the staircase. “Eva, you stay here.”
“Are you kidding me?” I was hit with an anger I couldn’t explain. “Do you think I can’t handle her? Do you really think I can’t face this thing?”
I don’t know where the anger came from, but it was as if someone had lined my vision with red. I cursed, snatching the recorder from Elliot’s hands and shoved him aside. “Get out of my way.”
“What the hell, Eva?” Elliot went to grab my arm but froze as the voice from above could be heard again.
“Sibyl, oh, Sibyl.” Catherine was singing the title I’d been given as sweetly as a lullaby. “Come. See me. I’ve got a message for you.”
I shoved past Elliot, bounding up the stairs two at a time. I didn’t stop running until I was in the bedroom. Catherine had fallen silent, yet I could feel her presence. I could feel the anger radiating from the mirror showcased in this wretched place. I wanted to be afraid, but I didn’t hesitate as I entered the room.
The door slammed closed behind me.
I paid no attention to it, or the sounds made by the others as they tried to get inside. “What do you want from me, Catherine? What is your message?”
Her image was just as terrifying now as it had been that afternoon. Yet she made no moves to harm me. Catherine Tillotson laughed as if delighted, caressing the line across her throat.
“My message is more of a request. A demand if you will.”
“Well what is it?” I stomped my foot in frustration. “I don’t have all day.”
“You are immortal, are you not? I am well versed in your history, creature. We all are.” Catherine’s dark eyes flashed. “What I want is simple enough. I wish for you to free me from this purgatory Samuel cast me into.”
“Samuel.” The second spirit who was supposed to haunt this place had yet to make an appearance. I didn’t see anyone else in the mirror, nor had we had any interaction with him since this whole thing started. “Where is Samuel, Catherine?”
“Down below.” She turned as if to see something in the darkness behind her. “So far down below.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“Samuel is gone. A hopeless cause.” Catherine returned her focus onto me. “Do come closer, Sibyl.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I planted my feet in the carpet, crossing my arms over my chest. “I still have a mark where you cut me earlier. I am not going through that again.”
“It was a test. Nothing more. I had to make sure you were truly who I thought you were.”
I sighed, dropping my arms to my side. I was being hit with an exhaustion which caused my eyes to burn. “I am a messenger, Catherine. I will tell your story to the world. This is all I can offer you.”
“Ah, but you are very useful. More so than as a simple mouthpiece.” Catherine pressed her hands against the other side of the glass. “Please, come closer. I fear my strength is waning much like yours. I am losing my ability to speak.”
I moved, not realizing how she had drawn me in until I was almost touching the glass. “What happened the night of the murder? Is this your message?”
I was distracted only when the old door finally gave way. I turned at the sound of the crash to see Elliot, Joey, and Cyrus rushing into the room.
Their distraction proved to be my own damnation. Catherine shrieked as she reached through the glass, grabbing my arm to pull me through.
How can I describe what such an experience was like? I sent through the solid glass as if it were water. I didn’t go all the way through, thank god, since Cyrus was there. He had a hold on my waist, jerking me back. My keeper was yelling something, but I couldn’t hear him. The whispers which had assaulted me so much in the beginning surrounded me here. So much so that as Catherine grabbed my face, I couldn’t hear her words. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t fight. Catherine’s memories began to flash behind my eyes and I knew. I could see the farmhouse as it had been before. The windows were white from the piles of snow that had drifted up around them. The blizzard had been worse than anything we’d read about in the historical reports. Snow had fallen for weeks, barricading the Tillotsons inside. I could see Catherine, her body weakened by the starvation which had set in when their food supplies had ran out two weeks before. She was lying in the bed, too weak to stand.
A man appeared in my vision, standing over her. Samuel Tillotson was staring at her. He had been waiting on her to die. She knew this just I did. But Catherine was too strong. She reached for her husband, pulling him to sit on the bed by her side. Samuel was as hungry as she was. But he was too stubborn to join her deathbed. His family had been pioneers. They learned to survive despite the death surrounding them when the first settlements had appeared in the mountains of Tennessee. She knew he would find a way to survive this. So when he pulled his knife free from the belt he wore it on, she wasn’t surprised. She was angry.
“What is this?” Catherine swallowed. “Are you planning on ending my suffering here? Tonight?”
“Yes.” Samuel grasped her hand. “And mine.”
These were the last words he ever spoke to her. Samuel Tillotson had slit her throat as easily as he had the remaining animals they had slaughtered weeks before. I watched as Catherine’s body went limp, her eyes staring out into nothing as her soul was released. Then, it was her turn to watch. Catherine’s spirit formed in the corner as her husband took her body, stripping it down and carrying it downstairs. He had lit a fire in their fireplace, hanging a single pot above the flames. She watched in horror as he worked, knowing all too well what her
fate had become.
“Oh my god.” I wanted to throw up at the images assaulting my mind. “Oh my god.”
I felt myself falling backwards, collapsing onto the floor as Catherine’s hold tightened around me. She was coming out of the glass, her dark eyes gleaming as she chanted words I couldn’t understand.
“Release her.” Cyrus was there, shoving me away from the woman determined to keep her grip on me. I watched him jump in between me and the spirit. In his right hand, a transparent sword glowed with a golden light I’d never seen before.
“Where does he keep that thing? In his coat pocket?” Joey whistled as he inched forward to stand behind me. Elliot had knelt down, trying to pull me back as Cyrus thrust his weapon forward. Catherine shrieked when he found his target, her arm fading into the shadows. She tried once more, lunging towards me as Cyrus did his best to keep her back.
“Eva, the door. Do it now!”
The door. My door. My protection against the hell filling my mind. I stared at the woman still struggling to free herself from the glass. “Apollo, give me strength.”
The wooden door I had created only a few days before formed next to my own reflection. I stood up, shoving my arms outward as if to slam it close. The glass shifted, rippling as the door moved when I did. Catherine screamed as the weight of the wood shoved her back into the mirror. I rushed forward, pressing my palms against the glass as I formed the chains and said the first words which appeared in my mind.
“By Apollo’s light, leave this realm never to return.”
The door in the mirror glowed as the screams coming from the other side fell silent. I didn’t move until the door faded beneath my hands. I took two steps before stumbling into Elliot’s arms with a sob.
“She’s gone, Elliot. It’s over. She is gone.”