The Haunting of Cragg Hill House

by Elyse Salpeter

  Dr. Gerald Cragg had created a makeshift triage in the lounge and the injured were scattered all around the room. The few uninjured staff constantly stacked logs in the fireplace to keep everyone as warm as possible, but it was still cold in the room. Dr. Cragg jumped from person to person, stitching up injuries, applying burn salves, checking oxygen tanks for those who needed them. Kelsey had run upstairs to check on Desmond. He continued to snore away. She adjusted his blankets, threw another log on their fire, and then ran back downstairs to help Dr. Cragg. She’d all but emptied his small closet of medical supplies in her efforts to help him.

  Dooley, and Carla’s husband, Bob, had just finished taping a plastic tarp over the shattered front windows to keep out the snow and cold, but the plastic billowed and rippled with the fierce gusts of wind. It stopped the snow, but the frigid air continued to leak in.

  Kelsey and Josh had ransacked the hotel rooms in repeated trips to grab as many blankets as they could carry to give keep everyone warm.

  People around her sobbed continuously. Twelve members of the staff had perished in the fires and four of the Cragg’s had died trying to save them. Elsa did her best to be strong, but she’d lost her husband, son, a nephew, and a cousin. The elderly woman broke down into a sobbing heap in a corner. Her sister and brother in-law, whom Kelsey hadn’t met yet, finally took her to her room. Gerald administered a sedative to calm her down.

  Kelsey met the final Cragg at the hotel. An elderly cousin of Elsa’s. Kelsey helped her hand out water bottles.

  That left just eight members of the Cragg family alive, including baby Hope, and just eight left of the staff from Papua New Guinea. And the girl on the fourth floor, of course. Kelsey glanced around, wondering if she should mention her. She must be so cold. She was only wearing a thin nightgown, and the hotel is freezing. She didn’t look like she would be consciously able to take care of herself. Kelsey contemplated trying to find her and realized it would be fruitless. She didn’t even know where this girl was living in the hotel and was sure she knew the ins and outs of the place better than she herself did. Trying to find her in the dark would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

  Kelsey had not had any time to even explore the horrible possibility that the Papua New Guineans were purposely making the Craggs sick. She couldn’t imagine any purpose to that heinous thought, nor why various members of the Cragg family had needle marks on their arms.

  She wanted to talk to Desmond about it when he finally woke up. She glanced up. Gerald was gathering the hotel guests together to make an announcement. “To our guests, I’d like to request that you all retire to your rooms now. We appreciate everything you have done, but the biggest and best help you can give us right now is to go to your rooms and stay safe and warm. There’s ample firewood to get you through the night. The staff will be busy tonight assessing the damage to the hotel and its floors. Please remain in your rooms.”

  Camilla Scott grunted, stood up in her expensive fur coat, and stalked over to Gerald. She weaved her drunken way through the wounded and even had the audacity to tell one injured man to get out of her way, even though the young man nursed a burn to his side. Camilla stood in front of the doctor, crossed her arms, and shook her head derisively. “You want us to just go back to our rooms? That is your suggestion? What about the evening cocktail hour that we were promised nightly?”

  There was dead silence. Everyone turned to her, stunned at her request.

  Gerald squinted and balled his fists. Kelsey saw him tremble slightly. “You have the audacity to complain about not having your evening snack, Ms. Scott? With everything that has just happened?” He moved towards the woman threateningly, but then Pago appeared seemingly out of nowhere and gripped Gerald’s arm to hold him back. Pago’s hair was wet with snow and his image still rippled, but Gerald did not seem to have an issue with Pago touching him at all. He didn’t even flinch.

  “Gerald,” Pago soothed. “It’s not a problem to take care of Ms. Scott in the least. In fact, I will personally handle this situation myself. Ms. Scott, you are absolutely right. Will you please follow me and I will escort you and Mr. Scott back to your rooms and bring you your evening aperitifs.”

  Kelsey stood up, appalled. “You can’t be serious? You’re going to cater to this woman in the middle of all this?”

  Ms. Scott turned her haughty stare upon her. “Oh yes, they very well will cater to us. And don’t think I won’t be asking for a refund after this is over, either. This is not what we signed up for. On many counts.” She directed her disgusted glare to baby Hope, who had just made a small, involuntary hiccup.

  Jenella rose from the floor where she held a compress over her husband’s head. Kelsey couldn’t believe how composed and calm the woman was. Her voice was as smooth as glass. “It’s absolutely fine, Ms. Porter. This is our job. Tooh, would you be so kind as to come with me to the kitchen and we’ll prepare the Scotts something special to eat? Herb? Would you get a pair of martinis together for them as well for us to bring to their room?” She glanced at Ms. Scott and gave her a wan smile. “A Dirty Martini with six olives? Is that right?”

  Ms. Scott snorted sardonically. “Well, look at that. Someone who actually pays attention to her guests. Yes, that will be fine. Now, Pago, bring us to our room and get us another set of blankets and additional firewood, so we don’t freeze to death in the middle of the night because none of you buffoons can figure out how to turn on the generator. I’d rather not have to sleep in my fur coat and mess it up.” In a huff, she turned and sauntered drunkenly towards the stairs, with Ernest following her. Pago lit his flashlight and quickly followed them to lead their way. He turned just once and gave the slightest of nods towards Tooh. Kelsey had no idea what he was trying to convey, but she was sure it wasn’t good. Fear still hung in the air. She glanced back at Tooh, but he remained stone-faced and just trailed his mother into the dining room and back towards the kitchen.

  Dr. Cragg turned to everyone else. He tried his best to compose his features, which now seemed permanently pinched in a state of disgust from his confrontation with Mrs. Scott. “I suggest everyone else go to their rooms, please.” He handed out flashlights. “There’s more than enough snacks in the refrigerators and minibars in your quarters to get you all through the night. We’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with in the morning. I’ll tend to the injured here in the lobby. Please, going to your rooms where you will be safe will be the best help you can offer us.” Kelsey felt so badly for him. There were dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes and he looked as if he might cry.

  Kat and Sam took one of the flashlights, grabbed a bottle of rum and a few cans of cola from the bar and moved upstairs to their room. The family with the young children had already left and Kelsey caught up with them in the stairwell. “Wait, do you mind if I ask Billy a question?”

  “Um, sure,” the mother said and pushed her hair behind her ears. She glanced at her husband warily and chewed her bottom lip nervously.

  Kelsey bent down to Billy. “When we were outside, what did you mean when you said you were speaking to Roselyn? Are you talking about the same woman who died in the fire?”

  The father cut her off abruptly by suddenly leaning over and shaking Billy’s shoulder roughly. “Hey, what is this? You’re not starting that up again, are you?” His sudden raised voice was biting and confrontational, and Kelsey was startled by the malice in it.

  Billy glanced up at his dad and his lips trembled. “I didn’t mean to, Dad, but she asked me to help her, so I just went outside to talk to her. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” Tears threatened to bubble from his eyes.

  “You better not.” His tone was deadly.

  Billy’s mom swallowed hard. “Larry, I’m sure it was nothing.” Billy’s sister squeaked and hid behind her mother’s back, as if she knew what was going to happen next.

  Larry didn’t disappoint. He raised his voice. “Jane, you think it was nothing? He just told us he was s
peaking to one of the staff who died! Again! I told him I don’t want to hear any more crap like this. You understand me?” He turned to Kelsey, his face reddening in barely controlled rage. This family looked nothing like the family she had first met in the dining room. “Look, lady, do us all a favor and don’t provoke him. He’s got a fanciful imagination, especially when it comes to death. I’ve spent a ton of money on therapy to stop having him say he sees things like this wherever we go. Do you know how embarrassing that can be in public when he utters garbage like that?”

  Kelsey puckered her face. “But what if what he says is real? What if he was actually communicating with her?”

  Billy stared back at her with hopeful eyes.

  Larry’s eyes bulged. “Real? You think he really sees dead people coming to life? Ghosts? Souls? Imaginary people that are just walking around? Oh, this is just great.” He gave his wife a look and waved his hand in Kelsey’s direction. “Another new age whacko we’ve got to deal with, just like the last doctor we saw. I told you, Jane, just because this place is expensive it doesn’t mean we can escape from people like her.” He turned back to Kelsey and pointed at her until his pointer finger was just an inch from her nose.

  She smacked his hand away, hard. “Get your finger out of my face before I break it.”

  Larry’s eyes widened in surprise, as if no woman ever had the audacity to ever challenge him before. His face got beet red and he balled his fists threateningly.

  Kelsey stood her ground.

  Larry jutted his chin at her, but kept his hands to himself. “Do me a favor, lady. You keep your clap trap garbage to yourself and stay away from my kids.” And with that he ushered his family away, with Billy protesting the entire time.

  Kelsey called out as the man dragged his son up the stairs. “I believe you, Billy, even if your father doesn’t!”

  Larry turned back once and glared at her and then they disappeared into the dark.

  Kelsey stood rooted to the spot and shook with fury. New age whacko. If he only knew. Her thoughts turned to the poor boy, living a life in which no one ever believed him. Living a life in which he saw ghosts and had no idea how to deal with them. How lonely and alone he must feel all the time. How terrified.

  At that moment a rush of wind whipped up the stairs past her and Kelsey shivered. She grabbed onto the handrails for support as a feeling of loathing filled her body and her mind until she couldn’t even see in front of her.

  Free… free…

  Kelsey heard Billy squeal from above that someone was there with them, and then a loud slap. Billy started to cry and his father yelled at him to shut the hell up.

  Kelsey stared upwards where the wind had gone. She knew now it wasn’t a wind at all, but a presence she’d been feeling. Something’s here in the hotel with us. I can feel it. I’m not so powerless as I had thought. But what was this entity she was touching? A soul? A ghost? Why did it feel so evil? Is it a demon or some other evil spirit haunting this location? More importantly, was it dangerous? And why did she feel it when she held the baby?

  Poor Billy. She wanted to slap his father’s face right back and see how much he liked it. He had no idea what his son could do. The boy obviously had the gift of sight. She so wished she could sit with Billy and tell him everything was going to be okay.

  Kelsey remembered how hard it was after her attack when she was ten. When those men who killed her parents, and then brutally assaulted her, left her to die in Tibet. She’d been in a comatose state for six weeks and finally awoke back in America at the Goldman’s house with a paintbrush in her hand and covered in paint. Horrific images she’d drawn in her fugue state covered the wall. But the art therapy Claire Goldman had tried, had worked, and she’d returned to the world explaining things not far off from what Billy was declaring. She told the Goldman’s in detail what had happened to her and left nothing out. They never once claimed not to believe her. Even when she spoke about where she thought she’d “gone to” and the impossible things she seemed to know. To their credit, they supported all her fantastical claims. Even Ari had taken her at her word from day one, which now that she looked back on it, seemed strange for a boy whose world was steeped in black or white. Perhaps it had been because she came out of that fugue state speaking a language no one had heard before, and as a linguist, he was fascinated. Perhaps it was because she could describe the world of Tedanalee so vividly. Maybe it was because her drawings of animals and little girls were so unusual. Maybe it was simply because he liked her, even back then. Kelsey thought it might be a little bit of all of it, because the Goldmans knew that her parents had been seeking mystical worlds all along and possibly surmised they’d discovered one before they were murdered.

  Kelsey was tempted to follow Billy, but only chose not to because she didn’t want to cause an additional confrontation with his father. She wasn’t so sure Billy wouldn’t get punished again for her actions once she left. I wonder if he sees two of Pago, too? She’d have to remember to ask him if she had the chance.

  Kelsey turned on the flashlight Dr. Cragg had distributed to her and took off towards her guestroom to check on Desmond. When she opened the door and moved towards the bed, her stomach leapt into her chest.

  Desmond was gone.

  Worse, there was blood on the bed.

  A lot of it.

  Chapter 13

  Kelsey rushed out into the hallway, shining the flashlight beam on the floor and along the doors. She could hardly see a thing. The battery was weak and was only strong enough for a few feet in any direction. She charged back into the room and quickly rummaged through Desmond’s bag, finally finding his own flashlight.

  This beam was strong and it illuminated everything around her. She could see easily right down the long hall for at least twenty feet at a time. Where are you Desmond? Where did you go? She inched along slowly a few feet in each direction, shining the beam on the floor, on the walls, on the decorative tables and tribal artwork placed between the rooms. The tribal masks looked sinister, as if they knew that there’d been too much blood on the bed for there not to be any trace of him.

  There! She got down on her hands and knees and two rooms away found a pooled dark red stain on the carpet. Kelsey put her finger to it and sniffed. It was wet, with that coppery-like metallic smell that fresh blood had. She beamed the flashlight ahead and spotted more on the floor.

  He’s hurt. What the hell happened?

  She followed the trail further down the long hallway. She’d not traveled in this direction into the hotel yet with Desmond, only using the opposite exits to go downstairs towards the lounge and outside. She passed a multitude of closed-off rooms and moved deeper into the hotel. She stalled when the hallway ended and had to make a decision when it separated into a T. On the right corner, a bloody handprint was smeared on the wall, as if whoever made it rested there for a moment. Thank you, Desmond. She turned that way and focused the light down the hallway. More blood splatters appeared here and there, and she followed the trail until the hall dead-ended at a narrow wooden door that was clearly not a hotel suite entrance. The doorknob was loose. Kelsey stared at the bloody door handle, then used her sleeve to turn it. As soon as the door creaked open, a stench assaulted her and her stomach turned violently. It reminded her of baby Hope’s rancid breath mixed with the unmistakable odor of feces, urine and rotten food. More fresh blood was on the floor here, but less of it than before.

  She put her sleeve to her nose and showed the flashlight around, illuminating a small shaft with a narrow wooden staircase. The peeling paint was a sickly gray color and covered in grime. She could not understand in the slightest why Desmond would go up there.

  She started to climb the precarious steps. They were rickety and sticky with discarded food and liquids. Kelsey bent down towards the moldy masses for a better look. She was certain they were decomposing pieces of meat hardened into the shape of misshapen rocks. Something moved and she sucked in her breath when she spied a fresher piece
now alive with maggots.

  Her eye caught sight of something on a higher step and for a moment she started. Then grimaced. For a brief moment she thought a child was lying there. But it was just a porcelain doll. One of Elsa’s, she was sure. This one resembled a little girl in a stained floral dress. Her white tights were ripped and she was missing one of her delicate shoes. A chunk of her stained cheek was missing, but her eyes were undamaged and seemed to stare at Kelsey accusingly.

  Kelsey realized someone had been living, and playing, in this staircase. And from the looks of it, for a long time. Was it the girl she’d seen? It had to be. Kelsey painstakingly skipped over the next step, not wanting to step on the doll. For half a second she swore it would reach up and grab her. She jumped over it and could clearly see a man’s bare footprint imprinted in the muck on the staircase. Is that you, Desmond? Kelsey recalled that he’d not even been wearing socks when she’d left him back in the room.

  Kelsey directed the beam back up the staircase shaft. It disappeared into the darkened floors above her. She began steadily climbing. Each staircase segment held seven narrow steps, then ended in a small landing, and then turned and went up another seven in the opposite direction. This pattern continued on for a few more flights. She was sure it extended further up than the fourth floor guest rooms of the hotel. She remembered seeing rafters and turrets outside and the attic level seemed to be at least six floors up.

  Finally, she made her way to the top landing where she faced another narrow wooden door. A broken, rusted lock hung from the handle, as if the person who had initially locked it never realized it had come apart years before. The door was slightly ajar. Kelsey clicked off her flashlight, gently pushed it open and stepped inside.

  She let her eyes adjust to the gloom. Square windows in recessed eaves situated four feet from the ground decorated the walls every ten feet. She soon realized she stood at the very top portion of the hotel, in the corner of the attic rafters facing west. The small, hinged windows let in some dim light, and her eyes slowly adjusted. Ancient locked trunks, heavy furniture, heaps of old newspapers and draped artwork were stored in a cluttered, haphazard fashion, creating mazes and pathways of the Cragg family’s history for Kelsey to weave her way through when she finally decided to move.