The Haunting of Roan Mountain

by S A Jacobs

  We moved the conversation away from the topic of being trapped in a small town and just enjoyed each other’s company. Making jokes, sharing memories, talking about the life we’d shared years ago. It was the most enjoyable time I’d experienced in years.

  We finally made it out of the restaurant with our stomachs full and our to-go cups in hand. I followed her to her cabin. Once there, I headed up to the loft while she stayed on the couch. I started by putting a line of salt on the window sills and in front of the door to the attic. I put another line on the top of the stairs and along the entire length of the open wall that looked over the living room.

  Once complete, I headed downstairs and lit the smudge stick. I slowly walked from room to room, speaking softly to the spirits, forbidding them from these parts of the house. I extinguished the smudge stick and placed it in a zip-loc bag.

  “Okay, at the very least, this should keep the spirit contained to the loft, as long as you, or someone else, doesn’t break the line of salt. Any break in it and all bets are off. We will get to cleansing the house later. For now, I need to understand it better.”

  “Wait, so you’re saying that all this activity will be trapped up in the loft, and thus will be more powerful?” she asked.

  “Well, I suppose that is one way of looking at it. I cannot believe they will be thrilled about being stuck up there. So yeah, maybe stay out of the loft for now, but the rest of the house is clear. You should be able to sleep peacefully.”

  I grabbed my things and started heading towards the door. “Look, it’s late. I better let you be. But thank you. It was nice to spend the evening with you again.”

  “David, wait!” she said as she stood up and walked towards me. “I should be the one thanking you.”

  Catching me completely off guard, she wrapped her arms around me, giving me a hug. Impulsively I wrapped my arms around her as well, dropping my backpack. Without even the slightest thought, I kissed her.

  5

  I could taste her lips on mine the entire drive home. Her taste, her smell...it was intoxicating. The kiss only lasted for moments, but it was overwhelming. I spent far too much time cursing myself for not staying longer and making the most of the night. Deep inside though, I knew I couldn’t. I needed to savor every moment with Melanie. I’d waited nearly twenty years for that kiss.

  Despite the ecstasy of that moment, it also raised a whole slew of questions I couldn’t begin to answer. Did it mean we were dating? Should I be texting her constantly? I had no clue how to move forward with her. Give me a haunted house, and I could take care of shit like no one else. Give me a relationship to navigate, and I needed a roadmap.

  There were still countless unanswered questions about her house, but I couldn’t take my mind off her for long enough to focus on that. At the end of the day, I chose to simply send her one text before heading off to bed.

  Thank you for an incredible night!

  Sleep overtook me before she responded.

  I woke up to a simple winky face response. Like I had any hope of understanding what was really implied by that. Still, I knew I had to respond.

  Heading to library today. I’ll let you know if I find anything, I sent back.

  I got cleaned up and packed my backpack. Soon, I was on the road to the Roan Library, only stopping for a couple energy drinks along the way. I pulled into the sleepy, nondescript one-story building that housed the library. There was only one other car in the parking lot, but given the fact that it was the middle of the week, it wasn’t much of a surprise. When I walked in, the library was absolutely silent and the familiar scent of musty books hung in the air.

  “How can I help you this morning?” a voice said.

  My gaze moved over to the front desk where a middle-aged woman sat amidst a pile of books, a stamp in her hand.

  “Hi, I’m doing some research on a house in the area. Where could I find the local archives?” I replied as cheerfully as I could manage.

  The woman paused and looked at me, her eyes inspecting every inch of me.

  “How far back you looking to go?” she asked, with a slightly cheery voice.

  “Starting in the early 20th century, up through the mid 1990s.”

  “You’ll find everything we have in the far back corner. Property records, newspapers, etc. But sadly, I don’t see many people like you going through that stuff, so nothing is digitized. If you need any help at all, please let me know.”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. Thank you for your help,” I replied as I headed to the back of the library.

  I decided I would start with the most recent set of ownership records, knowing that would give me the best hope of finding someone I could speak to in person. After poring through papers and documents, it was proving to be difficult. One family owned the property from 1956 on. Unfortunately, there was no documentation on their sale of the property. While I had the family name, a search on the internet proved to be a complete black hole...as if that family had disappeared.

  Feeling frustrated, I decided to go back to the beginning and work my way forward. At least there, I had a bit of a paper trail to follow. I learned that the cabin was built in 1915 by a Johan Sellmer. Sellmer was apparently a bit of a real estate investor back then. Not only did he build those cabins, but he also built a number of houses in Roan and neighboring communities between 1915 and 1923. By then, the cabins were all used as a rental property, and most of the houses he built were sold immediately.

  Following his death in 1947, the cabins were sold off by his son William. The younger Sellmer was born in 1918 and was married with three children by the time he sold off the cabins. His oldest son, John, would have been about ten years old at the time. As luck would have it, it appeared John was still alive. Subsequent research showed him living in a small local retirement home. As this was the best lead I had so far, I figured I should follow it.

  I packed up my things and bid the librarian a farewell as I stepped out into the hot day. The retirement home was only a couple miles away. I was starving but anxious to talk to John Sellmer. I stopped off at a gas station and picked up a couple of Snickers bars, eating one and throwing the second in my backpack.

  The retirement home was a small, one-story building. It looked more like an old apartment complex. I walked into the main entrance. Once in the vestibule, the door was blocked by a glass pane with a hole to speak through and another hole to slide documents through. A young woman in light blue scrubs glanced my way only to say, “Deliveries are made to the dock out back.”

  “Sorry, no, I’m here to visit a resident,” I replied.

  “Who are you visiting?” she asked.

  “John Sellmer.”

  “Family?”

  “Uh no. I’m looking to speak with him about some property he used to own,” I replied sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry sir. If you are not family, you need to be registered and approved by the resident,” she said with a matter of fact tone.

  “I’m sorry, Susan,” I said reading her name badge. “Believe me, I understand protocols and completely respect that. It’s just, I don’t know how to reach him any other way. Would it be possible for me to give you my name and the nature of my visit so you can see if he would be willing to meet with me?”

  She looked at me, a slight smile on her face. “You know, John doesn’t get many visitors. It would probably do him some good. Let me go ask, as long as you promise not to upset him.”

  I wrote my information on a slip of paper and gave it to her, hoping she wouldn’t recognize my name from that damn TV show. I sat in a plastic chair, feeling restless.

  A few minutes later, Susan returned. “David? John agreed to see you. Please come this way.”

  After being buzzed through the main door, Susan led me down the wide beige hall which smelled like urine. We passed a recreation room of sorts. Glass windows surrounded the small lounge where a handful or residents slept or watched soap operas. A few doors later, we reached John’s ro
om. He sat in a recliner near the window. His gray hair was neatly combed. He was wearing khaki slacks and a sweater. Clear tubes ran from his nose down to the beat up green oxygen tank next to the chair.

  “Hi, John. Thank you for seeing me.” I extended my hand to him.

  He didn’t reach for my hand. He looked at me for a moment and then over to Susan. He nodded to her as if to tell her to leave. She nodded in reply and walked out.

  “David, is it?” he asked in a gruff voice. “Shut the damn door and then come sit down.”

  I did as he said and sat down on the chair across from him.

  “Let’s get a few things straight,” he said. “I don’t know you. Yet, you seem to want some information from me. So, I assume you will be compensating me for my time.”

  “Uh, well I suppose that depends on how much money you want.”

  “I don’t want your money. Money does me no good in here. You want me to talk, you will bring me things I can’t get on my own.”

  “Okay, what do you want?” I asked with some hesitation.

  “Well, I would say cigarettes and women, but I will just get caught with those. I don’t s’pose you have any whiskey in that bag of yours.”

  “Uh no, sorry. I don’t.” I considered how I could appease him. “I do have this.” I pulled the Snickers bar out of my bag and offered it to him.

  John eyed the plastic wrapped candy bar.

  “That will do, but if you need to come back here for another visit, I expect whiskey.”

  I handed him the candy bar. He quickly hid it in the side pocket of his slacks.

  “What would you like to bug me about?” he asked.

  “I was wondering if you knew anything about the three cabins your father used to own.”

  He sighed and looked at me for a long moment as he scratched his chin. “Ahhh, the rental cabins. Well shit, I was just a boy when my dad got rid of them. Damn shame too. He was sitting on a gold mine there with three cabins completely paid for on the edge of the National Forest.”

  “So, you do remember them,” I replied, trying to coax more from him.

  “Yeah, I remember them. We stayed there every summer. Well, until my grandad passed. I always loved that place, but my dad was too short-sighted. I look back at all the money we could have made by keeping them and renting them out. My dad, well, he didn’t care about that. He hated that place.”

  John went on to talk about how his dad had only went there because his mom wanted the family to. After his grandpa passed, his dad had listed them for sale within a week of his passing. There was certainly something about his father’s revulsion of the property. Yet, it was also clear that John never understood it.

  “Those cabins were my Grandad’s pride and joy. He built a lot of houses, but those were the only ones he hung onto. Used to talk constantly ‘bout how he built them with his own two hands. He talked about how it took him a month to haul the wood for them down the mountain until he had enough to build them. He designed them himself. He truly loved them.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say he hauled the wood down the mountain?” I asked.

  “Oh, hell yes! There was some place up on top of the mountain that was being torn down. He bought all the wood for next to nothing. The only catch was that he had to get it all down the mountain… no small task back then.”

  As he spoke, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I didn’t need to ask another question. I knew without a doubt where that wood came from. 1915 would have been only about five years after the Cloudland Hotel closed its doors. That was the only considerable construction up on that mountain.

  I’d always felt connected to Cloudland. One of my first cases involved a possessed table from the Cloudland dining room. Then, we uncovered the sinister plots of murder involving the KGC, which manifested in the nastiest case of possession I’d ever witnessed. Thankfully, I was able to vanquish those demons and cleanse a Chicago mansion owned by my friends Jim and Kat. Yet, it was still a surprise to realize, once again, I would be battling the demons of Cloudland.

  John continued to speak, although I’d stopped listening to much of what he was saying. I was consumed with thoughts of this new revelation. Soon, there was a knock at the door followed by Susan entering the room.

  “I’m sorry John, but David really needs to be leaving,” she said sweetly.

  John sighed. “Yes sweetheart. Look David, if you decide you need some more information about that place, let me know. You are always welcome here.” He smirked as his hand patted the pocket where my Snickers bar now resided.

  I felt giddy as I stepped out of the retirement home. That was a bigger break in the case than I’d ever anticipated. I took out my phone and texted Melanie. Got a big break with some information on your house. Would you mind if I swung by and checked out a couple of things?

  I started up my truck and blasted the AC as my phone buzzed with her reply.

  Sure, but I was hoping you would wait for me to be there. ;)

  How about we meet up tonight then. Maybe up at the Gap. We could get to the bald before sunset, I replied.

  6, you bring the beer :), her last text read.

  I headed straight to her cabin. Her key was tucked under the mat, and I let myself in. As I set my case of gear on her couch, I realized that I still hadn’t analyzed any of the audio from yesterday. I was getting behind, but I felt so close that I had to continue with my current line of investigation. I could analyze the audio later. I took out my thermal imager and flashlight. I headed up to the loft.

  Taking care to not disturb the line of salt, I entered the loft. I turned on the light and slowly padded across the room. Immediately, I realized something was different. My eyes scanned the room trying to place it. Then, I spotted it. There was a stack of blankets and a pillow in the corner of the loft. I knew those had not been there the day before. Confused, I walked back downstairs and looked next to the couch. The blankets that had been there before were gone.

  “Did she sleep up there after I sealed it off?” I said to myself.

  The conversation with her the day before ran through my head. It was Melanie who made the observation that, with the rest of the house sealed off, the presence may be more concentrated in the loft than before. I felt a hard pit forming in my stomach. There was something not right about all of this. I was concerned. I realized I needed to talk to Melanie. Unable to do that now, I headed back to the loft.

  I gently brushed away the line of salt in front of the attic door so that I could open it. As I did, I felt the temperature drop. Nervously, I unlatched and opened the door. I got down on my knees and crawled inside. I could see my breath in front of me as I entered.

  I turned on my flashlight and scanned the interior. Thankfully, the attic was empty. As I looked closer, I saw what looked like writing on the timbers. The timber closest to me was covered with signatures. Some were dated. The dates were all between 1890 and 1908. I couldn’t place why they were there. It was almost as if visitors to Cloudland had all signed their names. I moved the flashlight to the next beam. It was more of the same.

  I decided to use my thermal imager. As I scanned the attic, it mostly displayed bright blue, showing the frigid temperature. Then, as I moved it along the beams, it showed a bright pinpoint of red. I stopped and moved to bring the imager closer. As I did, the point of red started to move. There, on the screen of my imager, I saw a slow gentle motion of a signature writing itself. When it was done, a single name shown in bright red. I moved the flashlight to illuminate the beam behind the imager. The name ‘Robert Mason’ was clearly visible.

  The image took my breath away. All of a sudden I was dizzy. The attic started to spin around me. In a flash, I saw the attic door slowly closing. I closed my eyes and shook my head violently, trying to get my bearings. As I opened my eyes, I saw a sliver of light from the door and dove for it. I shoved myself through just before the door slammed shut.

  I took a deep breath and slowly crawled ou
t of the attic. I spun, shut the door, and latched it behind me. Without even taking another breath, I moved to brush the line of salt back in place once again, trying to keep whatever was in the attic from getting out. I lay on the floor, exhausted from the encounter. The name Robert Mason shot into my head again. It was one name I didn’t need to research. I knew exactly who Robert was.

  Robert Mason was a member of the KGC or Knights of the Golden Circle. No, he wasn’t just a member, he was a leader. He was one of five people known as the Sovereign Lords. I didn’t know many details about him aside from his position. I did know that my last run-in with one of these Lords, Samuel, was one I didn’t care to relive.

  Samuel, as it turned out, was as much of an asshole in spirit form as he’d been in real life. I could only hope that Robert would be a much nicer spirit. Samuel’s spirit had nearly killed my friend Jim in an epic supernatural showdown at his mansion, with me standing nearby. While the experience ended in the best outcome possible and brought me much success in life, it was also an experience I didn’t want to repeat.

  My mind immediately turned to Melanie. Despite my initial feeling that the energy in her home wasn’t malicious, knowing who was the cause of it made me rethink that. To make matters worse, I cared about her. As much as I’d initially tried to separate my feelings for her from the case, she was far more than a client to me. I was concerned for her safety.

  I glanced at the pile of blankets in the loft, and it unsettled me. I needed to warn her. I needed to make sure she was aware of what we were dealing with.

  6

  My truck tires screeched as I skidded to a stop in front of my office. I stormed inside, seeing Linda in some meditation pose in the conference room.

  “You think you could’ve fucking told me my connection was another damn Cloudland case!” I shouted.