Whispering Pines

by Mavis Applewater

  Everyone stood there once Althea had finished her explanation. “Come on people, we’re losing our light. I want this to be a Halloween special, not a Thanksgiving spectacular.”

  Upon hearing Althea’s warning, they sprang into action. “Why don’t I have a hair and makeup person?” Lanie whined while the small crew gathered up the equipment.

  “You’re as beautiful as ever, Ms. Larsen,” Althea said. “Now why don’t you give our little psychic friend a hand and film the usual Q and A about her gizmos and gadgets?”

  Shawn bent over to gather up the last of her equipment while Lanie continued to complain. She felt Kyle’s eyes on her once again, not to mention some very lustful thoughts the pimple-faced young man was thinking.

  “Stop staring at my ass,” she repeated with a fierce growl.

  “Sorry,” both Kyle and Faith apologized.

  Shawn spun around quickly to find Kyle looking apologetic while he lifted his camera up onto his shoulder. Faith, on the other hand, was blushing as she stared at her feet. Shawn laughed heartily at Faith’s sudden shyness before she returned to the task of setting up her equipment.

  “Could you explain what you’re doing?” Lanie asked in a bored tone while Kyle filmed Shawn.

  Shawn chatted happily as they went from room to room. Faith trailed along behind them as they continued to set up Shawn’s equipment. Of course, they had performed this routine many times before.

  “Now these things I love,” she explained, holding up a small tape recorder. “These are voice-activated tape recorders. I’m setting one up in each room. Sometimes, when it’s played back you can hear voices that weren’t picked up when I was in a room. Sometimes they pick up voices in rooms that are empty. This is known as Electronic Voice Phenomena, or EVP. I’ll also be using electromagnetic field, or EMF, radiation meters and infrared non-contact thermometers. Many times when a spirit’s around, the temperature will drop. When an entity is present, the room temperature can drop a full thirty or forty degrees. I also like to use a digital camera. Quite often you can pick up orbs. Orbs are floating balls of light that appear when a spirit is lurking about.”

  Shawn made a note on the appearance of the interior of the house. Like the outside, it was run down and had seen better days. She didn’t know the history of the place; Althea had instructed her not to investigate it. She would be told the history later.

  She felt energy throughout the rooms. It was very strong in the first-floor foyer, a larger room on the second floor, plus one small room on the third floor. The latter two of these rooms were also the only ones in the house devoid of dust or cobwebs. Also, in both of these rooms, Shawn felt a warm and gentle presence. The only room she hadn’t seen yet was the kitchen.

  “Do you like what you do?” Lanie asked when they began to descend the staircase.

  “You mean making a living from the dead?” Shawn gave that a little thought. “Yes. I’ll let you in on a little secret: some of this stuff spooks me, too.” She winked at Faith, who was still following them. “You want my interview now?” Shawn asked, eager to get on with things.

  “Yeah, but in front of the fireplace,” Lanie instructed her when they entered the downstairs parlor. “Althea thinks it will add flavor.”

  From all appearances, the room had been quite grand at one time. Shawn removed her coat and took her place in front of the now blazing fireplace.

  “Ready?” she asked, straightening her clothing.

  “Almost.” Kyle checked the room with a small hand-held light meter. “Okay.” He lifted the heavy camera up onto his shoulder.

  “Just a sec.” Faith interrupted them. “You have a…” She waved her hand, indicating that Shawn should brush back her bangs.

  Shawn smiled slightly before she tucked her long, curly hair behind her ears. “How’s that?” she asked, smiling warmly at Faith, who was shifting nervously.

  Faith shook her head and crossed in front of the camera. Shawn reeled from her closeness. She could feel the heat emanating from Faith’s body as her shaky hand brushed a strand of blonde hair off of Shawn’s brow.

  The brief touch of Faith’s fingers sent a jolt through Shawn. Her mind captured a slight image that made her smile brightly. For the first time, Faith hadn’t blocked her out. Shawn saw Faith watching her earlier that day as she stepped out of her car. Then the image shifted to Faith racing through what appeared to be a war zone. That image vanished and was replaced by another image of Faith’s naked body arching in the throes of ecstasy.

  As the last image remained, Shawn was all too aware of Faith’s lingering touch. Reaching up, she captured Faith’s hand in her own. She looked up, knowing that her eyes betrayed her true emotions. Her thighs trembled as she watched Faith’s lips parting slightly.

  She could hear the faint murmur of the other woman’s thoughts. It was always like this for her; knowing what another person wanted or was thinking and feeling. “Yes,” she answered in response to Faith’s unspoken thoughts. Faith pulled away suddenly and retreated behind Lanie and Kyle.

  Shawn felt the walls go up around Faith instantly. She had overstepped and entered without permission. It happened sometimes. The result was always the same; people just didn’t like it when you could see inside them.

  “I think we’re ready now,” Faith said coldly. She turned away from Shawn’s pleading look, as if to shield herself from Shawn’s intrusion.

  Shawn simply went on with the interview, knowing that an apology wouldn’t be welcomed. I learned a long time ago that most people would rather ignore it. What do you say to someone? Oops, sorry, I peeked into your inner thoughts. Damn if I didn’t like what I saw there. She recalled the sense of warmth the stoic woman kept carefully hidden. This assignment gets more interesting by the minute.

  “Tell us about yourself, Dr. Williams,” Lanie cued her.

  Shawn worked up a smile before beginning her spiel. “I’m a licensed paranormal investigator and a member of the International Society of Paranormal Investigators. What I do is nothing like the Ghostbusters movies. I use scientific methods when researching a paranormal occurrence. Unlike what you see on television, there isn’t a gadget that will point to a specter. I use tape recorders, cameras, and EMF meters to research and document my findings.”

  “That’s not all you use,” Lanie cued her once again.

  “No,” Shawn responded. “I’m a psychic. My gifts can give me a sense or a feel for people. Not only the living, but for those who have died. I can see things, some very clearly, almost like a movie playing in my head. Others are just quick flashes or blurbs that are sometimes difficult to decipher.”

  “And how long have you been able to do this?” Lanie continued in a dry, professional tone.

  “All my life.” It had started when Shawn was very young. She would catch a glimpse of some long-dead relative, or see shadows of people skulking about. She could touch someone’s hand and hear his or her thoughts. For the longest time, Shawn assumed that the words she heard had been spoken out loud. The occurrence was a constant source of trouble until she finally realized that she was hearing unspoken thoughts.

  Then, there was her pesky, imaginary friend. Her parents assumed that Catalina was imaginary. Shawn would argue up and down that Catalina was real. The Williams family just laughed it off until the day Shawn led them to a startling discovery. She was all of seven years old when she finally convinced her father to look in the abandoned well that sat on the edge of the property. Her father never quite recovered from the shock of finding the skeleton.

  For Shawn, it was a relief. Catalina finally disappeared for good. Catalina could be nasty at times, always pinching and teasing Shawn. She was glad to be rid of her. What Shawn failed to realize at the time was that Catalina had targeted her simply because Shawn could hear her. After that great discovery, Shawn’s family had a hard time accepting her gift. Nothing could shake up a quiet little family like discovering their little girl communed with the dead. From that moment on, S
hawn was treated differently, an experience that plagued her throughout her life. Now, standing in the abandoned mansion, watching Faith avoiding eye contact with her, she felt that alienation once again.

  “How did you get involved with this?” Lanie prompted her.

  “I wanted to use my gift, not hide it,” Shawn said, growing weary. She just wanted to be alone with Faith and apologize for peeking into her thoughts.

  Thankfully, the interview ended. Althea returned and they began to set up for Lanie’s blurb on the history of the place. One camera would be on Lanie and the other on Faith and Shawn, to record their reactions. The setup was taking a while, and Shawn was tired of standing next to Faith, who was trying to ignore her.

  “I didn’t,” Faith finally said quietly.

  “Didn’t what?” Shawn asked in confusion.

  “I didn’t drive Milo off,” Faith said in a hushed tone. “Sure, I gave him a hard time like I always do. But that wasn’t what made him run. He was by himself, searching the house. When I came downstairs, he was shaking, sweating more than usual, which is hard to believe, since he’s constantly perspiring. Then he grabbed his stuff and bolted out the door. Not that I’m complaining, I’d rather be locked up with you all night than that sweaty old windbag.”

  “I wonder what happened.”

  “I have no idea,” Faith said. “So, did you see anything interesting?”

  “When?” Shawn hedged, trying to turn her attention towards Althea and Lanie, who were arguing over how tight the hostess’s close up should be. The two may have been an annoying sight, but it was more enjoyable than facing Faith’s questions.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Faith said.

  “Nothing much.”

  “Maybe there’s nothing to see.” Faith sounded sad.

  “True,” Shawn said in a bored tone, knowing that she was taunting Faith, who snarled at her comment.

  “Why did you give up being a real reporter and start doing this kind of stuff?” Shawn asked. Granted, Shawn didn’t view what she did as frivolous, but she was well aware that the news industry did. In all honesty, even she viewed the tragedies that encompassed the world to be far more important than crawling around a dusty old mansion, looking for long-forgotten souls who couldn’t figure out that they were dead.

  “Long story.” Faith paused for a moment. “I was working for CNN. Real news stories: war, human tragedy, that kind of stuff. I was a good reporter, and I loved working the hot spots. One day I was sent off on a fluff piece. A punishment from a producer who objected to something I did. That guy had no sense of humor. The story was one of those spooky creepy things for Halloween. Kind of like this gig. The whole thing was a hoax, and I proved it. It got a lot of attention, so I wrote a book about it, and suddenly, I had a whole new focus. It was a hell of a lot safer than Bosnia, and by that time, I had seen too much violence. This stuff is more interesting and more profitable.”

  “It must be nice not getting shot at anymore,” Shawn said in an effort to keep the friendly conversation going.

  “Yeah, now I just worry about being bored to death,” Faith teased. Shawn was about to spit out a clever retort when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  “Grab the camera, Kyle,” she urged him, frantically waving him away from the bickering Althea and would-be actress Lanie. He immediately complied.

  “Want to come?” she asked Faith, who was looking on with interest.

  Chapter 2

  Stewart, Massachusetts

  December 15, 1947

  They stood on the porch looking at the house that had fallen into disrepair. It was no longer the grand home that either of them remembered.

  “Are you sure about this?” the sheriff asked tersely, watching the car chug up the long driveway.

  “We’ve tried everything else.” Richard Stratton rubbed his weary eyes.

  A plump man extricated himself from the car. He huffed and puffed while trying to hurry.

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.” The sheriff snorted, his eyes narrowing at the man who finally greeted them.

  “Gentlemen.” Panting, the rotund man offered his sweaty hand.

  “Mr. Comstock.” Richard shook his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  “My pleasure.” Comstock beamed.

  “Sheriff,” Richard said, “this is Virgil Comstock.” The two men shook hands.

  “So, what is it that you do?” the sheriff questioned in a surly tone.

  “I, sir, am a medium,” Comstock proclaimed with obvious pride.

  “Uh-huh.” The sheriff grunted and slipped a toothpick between his teeth.

  “Shall we begin?” Comstock asked.

  “Yes.” Richard cleared his throat and waved his hand towards the front doorway.

  “I’ll go alone,” Comstock said. “If I need you, I’ll call out.”

  “Very well.” Richard silently prayed for the answers he had been seeking for such a very long time.

  Comstock strode confidently into Whispering Pines and closed the door, leaving the other two men standing on the grand porch.

  “A medium?” The sheriff snickered and sucked on the wooden toothpick, “I would have guessed an extra large.”

  “We need answers,” Richard said, not feeling very confident that Virgil Comstock would be competent in finding them.

  “I know.” The sheriff’s eyes dimmed. “But I don’t hold a lot of trust in Mr. Hocus-Pocus.”

  Richard silently agreed with the sheriff. Still, he had tried everything else.

  “Maybe I should just tear it down,” Richard muttered under his breath. “Perhaps then I’ll find them.”

  “Anything has got to be better than this charlatan,” the sheriff huffed with disdain.

  Richard could think of nothing to say. He suspected that the sheriff’s assessment of Mr. Comstock’s character was accurate. So this is what it’s come to. Seeking the advice of a flimflam man. When will this nightmare end? The silence loomed over them. The only sounds came from the wildlife lurking about and the stomping of the men’s feet in an effort to ward off the cold. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a high-pitched wail. Before they could react, Virgil Comstock bolted out the door and rushed past them.

  “Mr. Comstock?” Richard called, rushing after the large man who was suddenly moving with lightning speed.

  “I’m sorry,” Comstock sputtered, backing his way towards his car. Richard couldn’t help but notice the way Comstock’s robust complexion had turned a sickening gray. “I’ll refund your money. Send you a check in the morning.” Comstock shrank away from Richard, and his beady eyes glimmered with fear.

  “What happened?” Richard demanded, stunned when the large man had managed to dart past him. Not only had Comstock slipped away, but he was halfway in his car before Richard could reach him.

  “I can’t stay,” Comstock whimpered like a frightened child.

  “Can you tell me anything?” Richard asked.

  “Stay out of the kitchen,” Comstock blurted out before speeding off.

  “Tell us something we don’t know!” the sheriff screamed at the speeding car.

  Chapter 3

  Stewart, Massachusetts

  Halloween Night, 2002

  The entity was dark and sinister. It challenged Shawn to follow it and eerily promised a surprise. Shawn shivered, not liking this entity one bit. Still, she felt helpless to refuse the challenge. “I have to check this out,” she said to her companions. “Who wants to come with me?”

  Shawn saw Faith’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “Follow me guys,” Shawn encouraged her grinning cohorts. Kyle and Faith followed her eagerly out of the parlor and down a long hallway. Shawn sensed, though, that they were more interested in getting away from Lanie’s bitching than in following her.

  Suddenly, in front of them, a door slammed shut. It slowly opened once again. “Hello?” Shawn said tentatively. The door opened fully in a violent movement. “Are you ge
tting this?” Shawn asked Kyle softly as she inched next to Faith.

  “Uh-huh,” Kyle squeaked.

  “It wants us to go in there.” Shawn trembled from the sudden coldness.

  “It?” Faith asked.

  Shawn nudged her. “Let’s go, before it leaves.”

  “Again with the it,” Faith said, and gave Shawn a hard shove. “You first.”

  “You know, I find it very interesting that you had no problem going into a war zone, but a little bump in the night has you hiding behind me,” she teased Faith, who was trying desperately to hide her larger body behind Shawn’s.

  Shawn braced herself before taking a careful step through the doorway. Faith clung to the back of her shirt, and Kyle trailed behind them. They entered another, smaller hallway that was dark and dusty. Shawn jumped slightly when a light appeared behind her. She steadied her breathing when she realized that it was Kyle’s camera. They followed the narrow hall until they approached a door. Before Shawn could reach for the tarnished doorknob, the door swung open.

  “Okay,” she muttered, pausing, unable to shake the disturbing feeling that pulsated through her.

  Shawn stepped into the room and immediately began to shiver. It felt as though she had walked into an ice storm. The barren kitchen was covered with dust. As she explored the room further, she noticed Faith and Kyle had lingered in the doorway. An icy hand gripped her shoulder. “I know what you are,” a low voice muttered in her ear. She spun around wildly to find that Faith had moved closer, but was still standing too far away from her to have spoken those words.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “What?” Kyle continued to film the brightly-lit kitchen.

  “Why is it so cold in here?” Faith stepped a little closer to Shawn. “What did you hear?”

  Shawn fought the desire to run and opened her senses. The room smelled like death. Another icy hand touched the back of her neck and gripped it tightly. “You will suffer for your sins.”