Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan
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down that hall,” Mary said, pointing to her right.
But it wasn’t. They wandered around and around, through room after room, some empty, some filled with boxes, some stuffed with antique furniture. Wispy cobwebs grabbed at their bare arms, clung to their eyelashes.
Tom scratched his head. “This makes no sense. We’re going in circles. I can’t figure out where we are. I thought we came in from the hallway over there, but where are the stairs?” The lights flickered off and on.
Mary motioned to her left. “Let’s try that way. That looks like the door at the bottom of the stairs. It must have swung closed.” They walked in the direction of the door. There was a loud pop. The lights went out, leaving them in total darkness.
“Damn! What did I do with the flashlight? Did I give it to you?” Tom asked.
“No,” Mary said.
Tom felt for Mary’s hand. In the darkness he grabbed it, surprised at how icy-cold it was, how bony and stiff her fingers were. He pulled her after him, moving cautiously toward where he thought the door should be. He crept down the long hallway, his shoes scuffling on the hard cement, at last coming to a door. The knob felt reassuringly solid in his hand. He turned it. The lights flickered on. Tom turned to Mary who was squeezing his hand painfully. There was no one there! He looked down. Red indentations were visible from the tight pressure to his hand. No one there registered in his mind, echoed again and again. He glanced around looking for Mary. The lights went out! He stood alone, his back pressed against the cold, cement wall that smelled faintly of mold. Motionless, Tom waited in the dark. Waited . . . for what?
In the distance he heard Mary shouting, fear clearly discernible in her voice. “Mr. Gardner?” she yelled. “Where are you? I’m scared! Please! Answer me!”
He had to get to her! Tom felt in his pockets. What the hell had he done with the flashlight? He hurried down the hall, heard Mary’s breath coming in short gasps. “Don’t be afraid, Mary, I’m here. Walk toward my voice.” He inched forward, trying to forget what had just happened, his hand still throbbing. At last, he felt her warm, outstretched hand.
Suddenly there was the whirring of an electric motor, a flash of lights. The power came on. Tom and Mary were standing in the center of the furnace room. Directly in front of them was the fuse box—open, all switches in the on position. Lying on the floor in front of them was the flashlight. Tom reached down and grabbed it, not wanting to risk darkness again.
Mary was pale and obviously shaken. “I swear, someone ran by me—right after the lights went out. Why did you leave me?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Mr. Gardner, how did we get in here?”
Tom hurriedly looked around. “We must have walked though that doorway in the dark without knowing it.” Tom pointed at a doorway to their right.
“I haven’t moved since you left me. I know I haven’t. What’s going on?” Mary cried.
“It’s okay; it’s an odd floor plan, that’s all. Especially in the dark,” Tom said.
“I want to get out of here! Let’s go upstairs.” Mary twisted her ponytail nervously in her fingers.
“Let me check the fuses first.” Tom found nothing wrong—not that he knew a lot about wiring. But it looked okay to him. He closed the metal box. “Come on. Everything seems fine.” Again they wandered through hallway after hallway, room after room. When at last they found the stairs, they didn’t hesitate but ran up and into the kitchen. Tom slammed the door.
For reasons better left for each of them to understand, Tom and Mary dismissed their experience in the basement, neither one wanting to admit to the other, or more importantly to themselves, what had occurred. Better to let it be. Better to forget that it made no sense.
“I’ll tell you one thing. Before I go down there again, I’ll find the floor plans for the basement!” Tom laughed, trying to make light of the situation.
“Hello?” a deep voice called. “Mary, where are you? Hello?”
“We’re here, Dad. In the kitchen.”
Her dad looked from Mary to Tom. “Mary, are you all right? You’re pale as a ghost!”
“I’m okay. The power was out, and we got lost in the basement trying to find the fuse box and then . . . well, I got scared in the dark—that’s all. Never mind.” Mary took her dad’s hand. “Dad, this is Tom Gardner. Tom, this is my dad, Mick Stevens.”
“Glad to meet you.” Mick pulled his daughter to him, hugging her with one arm. He extended his free hand to Tom. “So, you’re the lucky owner of this house? This is a fine place. They don’t build them better than this. No sirree! My grandfather helped build Remington House back in the twenties. Meant to stand a lifetime. Solid—that’s what this house is.”
“Dad, I’m tired, please don’t get started talking about how things used to be,” Mary chided her dad. “Mr. Gardner is tired. Let’s go home. Oh, almost forgot— I left a few groceries in the kitchen to get you by.”
“Thanks, Mary. Much appreciated. It was nice to meet you, Mick. You have a lovely daughter. Mary thanks for your help.” Tom handed her a fifty.
“Wow, that’s too much. I was only here a few hours.”
“Well deserved, I’m sure. Will you be here tomorrow?”
“I have classes all day, but I can come the day after. I’ll be here around eleven. Goodnight.”
Tom walked them to the door. “Goodnight.”
Chapter 4
For the years following Elise’s death, while Tom mourned and struggled to find peace with her death, Elise remained hidden in the Jamestown house. She was weak and uncertain. Nothing more than a thinly-veiled aura. Then Tom began making plans to leave. The reason for her existence became clear. Tom would not leave her behind. That was not even a possibility.
Elise arrived at Remington House in an old, worn-leather steamer trunk filled with bedding. Nate Adams, Tom’s friend and business assistant, hired a driver to transport some of Tom’s personal belongings to the new house. Thankfully, the trip had been tolerable for Elise—and fast. She arrived several hours before Tom. The driver unloaded the truck, placed everything in the attic. Mary had signed for the delivery. All was done quickly and expediently. Within an hour, the driver was gone.
Wouldn’t Tom be surprised! Elise laughed wickedly, actually producing a slight guttural sound, truly delighting her. Leaving the cold attic, she went down the back stairs, intent on exploring the main floor.
In a small room at the bottom of the back stairs, behind the door to the kitchen, Elise’s elation quickly dissipated. A black mist gathered, hovering in the air over her head. Horrified, she tried to hide as the dark form materialized. It emitted an ominous groan that shook her to her very soul. Elise’s scream was silent; her strength vanquished by her fear.
Dark and oily, the misty thing covered her, petted her as though she were a cat. It caressed her head and back with hands that she could feel but could not see. Bony fingers raked her skin. Recoiling into a corner of the tiny room, she tried to summon her strength. To no avail. She cowered; she didn’t have enough strength to make herself transparent. The dark entity continued to twine its icy mist around her. It’s smothering me. This vile thing is trying to make me surrender to it. It’s trying to steal my soul!
Then incredibly, tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. Elise gathered courage. Her anger intensified. She had waited too long for revenge, would not give up now. She summoned all her strength. Her will to survive was strong—stronger than the will of the entity. The roiling mist continued caressing her with greasy, sinewy fingers.
Elise screamed—the sound barely audible at first—but building. Louder and louder, piercing the dark night. The repulsive thing retreated and vanished.
I did it. I sent it away!