The Haunting of the Creole House

by Blake Croft

  His finger had just brushed the wooden handle when the closet burst open.

  Richard cried out and jumped back, lost his footing and landed on his ass. Something small jumped out from the closet and landed on him. He covered his face with his arm to protect his face.

  “You found me, Dad!”

  Aiden laughed, his long blond hair curtaining his face, teddy held firmly in one hand.

  Richard laughed, relieved.

  “See, Dave. Nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re such a baby, Dave.” Aiden chuckled.

  Dave wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

  “Hey, Aid, don’t talk to you brother that way.” Richard patted Aiden on the head.

  “There’s someone in there.”

  Richard sighed. He opened the closet, revealing the boys’ clothes hanging from a rack, and a box full of toys.

  “There’s nothing in here, Dave. Honestly, aren’t you too old to be dreaming up monsters in the closet?”

  “I know there’s someone in there. Aiden talks to them all the time. He does!”

  Richard gave Aiden a searching look.

  “I talk to the teddy bear. His name is Maurice. I’m teaching him the song Mom used to sing us at bedtime.”

  “And you haven’t been making up stories to scare your older brother?” Richard asked, raising a quizzical brow.

  “Of course not!” Aiden protested. “I’m not the mean one.”

  “There you go.” Richard shrugged his shoulders. “You should clean up, Dave. Aiden why don’t you go run a bath and maybe we can clean this teddy up, eh?”

  “I don’t want to clean him up,” Aiden’s lower lip quivered and tears filled his eyes. A full on temper tantrum was on its way.

  “Okay.” Richard held his hands up in surrender. “You guys want a snack? Some juice and crackers, maybe?”

  Dave looked betrayed. He picked himself up off the floor and left the room, Aiden following close behind. Richard rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe Abbie was right. He shouldn’t have told them those creepy stories on the drive down here.

  Chapter Six

  — ∞ —

  June 14th – 10:08 PM

  Lakeshore Drive, Mandeville – Louisiana

  “I still think we should go back. He hardly touched his food, Richie,” Abbie said.

  “This is nonsense. You always coddle them too much,” Richard muttered.

  “Be that as it may, even you must admit Dave is acting strange, and it would be best if he was back in his own house.”

  Richard put down the book he was reading. They were in their bedroom. Abbie was rubbing cream on her feet after her shower. Her expression was pensive, her short blond hair dripping tiny drops of water on the bedsheets. Richard didn’t know whether to kiss her, or shake her.

  “We booked this house for two months, Abbie. We can’t just up and leave. They won’t give us our money back, and in case you haven’t noticed I’m not rolling in royalties at the moment.”

  “I never saw the point in coming all the way to Louisiana in the first place. Ali had a perfectly good cabin that was going to cost us nothing.”

  “Please, don’t start.” Richard slammed his book shut.

  “I’m just saying if things were so bad, you shouldn’t have splurged on a beach house in the suburbs of New Orleans.”

  Abbie’s words stung more because they were perfectly sensible. Richard took a deep breath to calm down. “How many books have you written, darling?”

  Abbie looked taken aback by the question.

  “And how many of the books you’ve never written reached the national bestseller list?” Richard folded his hands on top of the book in his lap, his smile contemptuous and smug. “How many fans do you have clamoring for your work? How many positive critics’ reviews? None? Then how do you expect to understand the process it takes to write one?”

  Her cheeks blazed red. Richard felt like an asshole but he’d be damned if he let her dictate how he spent his money. “I need this, Abbie, and I don’t appreciate you bringing me down when I’m in the middle of a breakthrough in my novel.”

  Abbie went back to moisturizing her feet. “Look, I’m not saying this place isn’t good for your creative process.” Abbie put away the lotion bottle, rubbing the excess cream on her hands and forearms. “I just don’t think it’s a good place for Dave.”

  “What do you want me to do?” His voice was sharper than he had intended.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything.” Abbie’s tone had an edge to it now. They were both on very thin ice of cordiality. “I’m suggesting that the kids and I go back to Colorado. I’ll stay with them for a week or so till Dave is better. Then I’ll leave them with my parents in Denver and come back. You can manage for two weeks without me, can’t you?”

  Sensible. Practical. So well organized. Her ability to be more professional at playing house than Richard at being a writer grated on his already raw nerves. And what did she think he was? Stupid? She’d be on her own, and would think of meeting Katherine, and then be back at her pointless pharmaceutical job, flaunting her pharma money in his face, money he couldn’t touch or use without feeling like a kept husband.

  Not to mention Lemmy and the rest. They’d still have a watch on the all the places Richard frequented, which included Abbie’s parent’s house, waiting to see if the family returned. Lemmy would just love that Richard’s wife and kids were back in the city. He’d be tickled pink that he now had hostages to threaten Richard with.

  “I hardly get to spend time with the kids during the school year. I was looking forward to bonding with them over the summer. I’m never going to get this time back.”

  Abbie’s face softened. Richard hoped this was the end of the conversation, but Abbie was still frowning slightly. She looked genuinely troubled by something.

  “That’s sweet, Richard, but I still think getting away from here will be best for Dave.”

  Richard put his book away and scooted closer to his wife.

  “He’s just acting up. It’s common amongst kids his age. He’s going through some changes, on the cusp of adulthood, not yet a teen but no longer a child. It’ll peter out, you’ll see.”

  “I know but I’ll sleep better if you plane the door. It keeps closing on its own and getting stuck which makes me panic.”

  “Okay.” Richard grinned, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Anything else?”

  Abbie laughed and scrunched up her nose. “And remove the closet from that room.”

  “What?” Richard sighed. “Abbie that thing is heavy and my shoulder’s still raw from this morning.”

  “I’ll help.” Abbie turned and cupped his cheek in her palm. “It gives Dave nightmares. Do these two, tiny, teeny, weeny things for me and I won’t mention going back again.” She was smiling, her eyes bright and shining like when they first met, full to the brim with flirtatious teasing.

  Richard caved.

  “Okay.” He kissed her, and was glad the issue had been dealt with.

  As if on cue, there was a knock on their door and Dave’s face poked in. His brown eyes were large in his pinched face, his mouth startlingly pink in his pale face as if he had bitten them to the point of bleeding.

  “Oh, Dave, not again,” Abbie moaned.

  “I’ll handle this.” Richard touched Abbie’s shoulder, drops of water coating his fingers. “You get to bed. Come on, Dave. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “But, Dad…”

  Richard led Dave through the dark hall. It was a moonless night and the shadows were deep. Despite them living there for the better part of four days, the hall still smelled musty and airless. Dave was shaking by his side.

  The children’s bedroom door was wide open. It was as dark as soot inside. Richard turned on the overhead lights. Aiden was asleep in his bed near the window, one leg under the covers, the other sticking out of the bed, the teddy bear clutched in his arm. Toys were scattered all over the floor.


  “See. Nothing to be scared of.”

  “There’s someone there,” Dave whispered. He pointed to the closet.

  “Really?” Richard couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He had far too many things to worry about than babysit a grown boy. “Have you seen them?”

  Dave nodded.

  “What do they look like?”

  For a moment it looked like Dave wouldn’t answer. Then the boy shuddered, his teeth chattering in his head.

  “Red.”

  “Red?”

  Dave nodded. He raised his tiny hands, his fingers flexed to look like primitive claws. He placed the fingers on his face, and raked them down, his forefinger hooking his lower lip and dragging it down till Richard could see his lower teeth, his pink gums, and a bit of tongue.

  “Red.”

  Richard looked at his son’s earnest face, then back at the closet. It was an ordinary closet, if a little dated. It would probably have been renovated for something new if the wood had been rotten.

  “I’ll check for you, okay?” Richard said. “But you have to sleep in your own bed. You can’t sleep with us.”

  “It wants to take us.” Dave grabbed his father’s hand, his tiny hands cold and trembling. “It’s going to wait for the dark then take us. I’ve seen its hands.”

  Hands, Richard thought. Wow, that’s creepy. I could use that for the book.

  “Nothing is going to take you.” Richard opened the closet and made a show of checking the back to please Dave. It wasn’t very deep. “Want to help me put these toys back?”

  Dave shook his head frantically.

  “Of course not,” Richard muttered. He picked up the toys in his large hands, grabbing four at a time and began dumping them in the box inside the closet. Dave watched him carefully, his breath held whenever Richard walked back to the closet. Once Richard was finished he closed the closet door, and Dave relaxed a little. Richard felt his annoyance disperse, to be replaced by a pinch of worry for his son.

  Abbie was right. Dave was acting strange.

  “Tell you what, I’ll leave the light on in here and in the hall. Is that good enough? No dark, no monster.”

  Dave hugged his father, his head barely reaching the tall man’s chest. Richard kissed his head and helped tuck him into bed, an idea growing in his head. He might just write a story here after all.

  Chapter Seven

  — ∞ —

  June 15th – 8:34AM

  Lakeshore Drive, Mandeville – Louisiana

  A t this time of day, the sun hit the window directly, flooding the children’s room with its light. Abbie stood in the middle of the room inspecting the closet, while Richard dumped the clothes and toys on the beds to be stored later.

  They had called the owners yesterday to request a removal of the closet and planing the door but their calls had gone straight to voicemail. Abbie was done waiting.

  “Where do you want to drag this piece of junk?” asked Richard.

  “Out in the hall for starters,” Abbie pulled her hair up in a short ponytail. “If it’s not too heavy we can lug it down the stairs and into the garage, but it needs to be out of the kids’ room.”

  “I can’t see what’s so scary about it.” Richard rubbed the back of his neck.

  Abbie had to agree.

  Stripped of the clothes and shoes, it was just a battered old closet with very little space inside. It smelled of dust and mothballs. The space within was hardly ten inches, certainly not enough for an adult to hide in.

  “Shall we?” Abbie asked, walking forward to grip one side of the closet.

  Richard rolled up his sleeves reluctantly and gripped the opposite end.

  “Make sure to pick it up,” Abbie said. “I don’t want any drag marks on the floor.”

  “I bet that would get their attention.” Richard grinned. “If we trash the place, we just might get a call back from the flaky owner.”

  Abbie grinned. “On three?”

  “One moment, please,” said Richard. He knelt down and retrieved a splinter on the floor. He stooped down for a closer look at the bottom of the closet’s door where it came from. He noticed an incomplete drawing where the part on the splinter was missing. It looked like it had been a sort of curious encircled yellow eye.

  “Ready?” Abbie said.

  Richard got up and gripped the closet.

  “One, two, three.” Richard bent his knees and grunted.

  Abbie did the same. She hadn’t expected the closet to be easy to lift but she hadn’t expected it to be this hard either. It had looked almost solid but light, yet now it weighed a ton. They hardly managed to lift it off the floor.

  “The hell?” Richard grimaced.

  “Maybe we need to tilt it forward,” Abbie suggested, massaging her wrists.

  “What good will that do?” Richard snapped.

  “It’s just a suggestion,” Abbie snapped back.

  “Let’s just try one more time,” Richard growled.

  They both bent their knees again and pulled with all their strength. The closet groaned as it lifted a few inches off the floor. Abbie could feel the muscles in her back seizing up. With a guttural groan, she stepped forward with Richard but the weight was too much to sustain.

  The closet slipped from her sweaty palms.

  It landed hard on Richard’s foot.

  “Holy motherfu—” Richard cursed. “Get it off!”

  “I’m sorry!” Abbie cried. She clawed at the wood beneath the closet above Richard’s foot and lifted it with all her strength, managing to lift it enough for him to wriggle his foot out. “Oh my God, is it okay? Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay!” Richard roared. “What the hell did you drop the thing for?”

  “It was an accident.” Abbie raked a hand through her hair, pulling most of it out of the ponytail. “I’m sorry.”

  “Damned stupid idea.” Richard was still muttering away, hopping on one foot. He sat on Dave’s bed and gingerly removed his shoe. “I can’t afford to go to the hospital! I have writing to do but no, you’d rather have me doing stupid chores around the house.”

  Abbie’s guilt was evaporating with every second. It was an accident, she had apologized. Why was he making it more than it was?

  “I’m sorry about your foot, but this isn’t some stupid redesign,” Abbie said. “Our child is frightened of this thing.”

  “So tell him to man up,” Richard barked. “Instead of teaching Dave to come to terms with his fears you’d rather remove the thing bothering him? What are we raising, snowflakes?”

  “I can’t talk to you, if you’re going to be unreasonable.” Abbie’s pressed her mouth in a thin line, her head pounding with rage.

  Richard removed his sock. “Just look at the state of my foot!”

  It looked bad. The big toenail was clearly broken and the rest looked bruised. Abbie hoped none of the bones were broken.

  “Oh, Richie,” Abbie hissed. “I’m sorry. Let’s take you to the emergency room.”

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Richard snarled.

  Abbie rolled her eyes. Richard could be worse than their toddler when it came to being sick and seeing doctors.

  “I’ll see if someone can come home and see you,” Abbie compromised. “Let me help you to the study at least.”

  Richard grumbled, but allowed himself to be helped out of the room and then down the stairs.

  The closet remained exactly where they had left it along the far wall of the room, soaking in the sunlight.

  — § —

  “Looks like just minor bruising, no broken bones. No need to have an X-ray. The worst case scenario is you have a cracked bone, but I don’t think so. And anyway, all you can do for that is to tape up the toe with two small sticks to keep it straight.” Dr. Hurst said, tapping up the bandages on Richard’s feet. “The nail will grow back in no time. Just avoid putting too much weight on that foot, and soak it in cold water as much as you can.”
r />   Richard sat stone faced in his study chair, a stiff drink on the desk despite the fact that it was ten in the morning. He hadn’t said a word to Abbie since she had helped him down from the bedroom. Abbie had felt guilty about his foot at first, but his attitude was souring her own sympathy towards him.

  “Thank you Dr. Hurst,” Abbie said, leading him out into the hall. “If you don’t mind, can I ask you some questions?”

  “His foot will be fine.” Dr. Hurst smiled, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Grown men can be a handful when they’re sick. Don’t take it to heart.”

  “No.” Abbie’s smile was tight. “It’s not about Richard. I’m concerned about my son. He’s been acting strange since we arrived. He’s been complaining about nightmares and won’t sleep in his bed.”

  “How old is he?” Dr. Hurst asked, glancing discretely at his watch.

  “Ten. He’s running a fever, and he has become very quiet and needy. He’s usually busy doing his own thing. And he’s fixated about the closet in his room being the home of some boogeyman. It’s the same closet that did that to Richard’s foot.” She spread her hands before her. “We tried to remove it.”

  “It’s probably the new location. Kids react to a change of place in different ways. This is their first time here?”

  Abbie nodded.

  “Well, that could very much be the reason.” Dr. Hurst’s eyes sparkled. “The tension between you and your husband can also be a factor.”

  Abbie flushed. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t think me forward, Mrs. Coltrane.” Dr. Hurst looked apologetic. “But even I can see there is some hostility brewing between you and your husband, and I’ve only been here half an hour. Kids pick up on these things, and they react in different ways. Maybe your son is just reacting to unknown things in his new surroundings.”

  Abbie bit her lip. It was a hard pill to swallow.

  “Thank you,” she said.