Haunted House Tales

by Riley Amitrani

  As the rain tapered off to just a drizzle, Josh eased out of the sedan and quietly closed the door behind him. He could easily walk into town now, but as to what he was going to tell the police and other authorities? He was clueless. More importantly, though, for Josh anyway, was why had he been spared? He had been just as much a part of this misadventure as Sally and Trent. Sure, it had been Sally who had physically removed the cat from the mansion, thus invoking the revenge of von Kraken according to the legend. But he was the one who had put this whole thing together. How was he going to live with that on his conscience? Again…he had no idea.

  Josh was too tired, too depressed, and too defeated to even cry for his friends. He supposed that might come in time. That was if the police did not lock him away for the rest of his life. After all, who was actually going to believe what had really happened? And his prints were all over the inside of the car…it was too much to ponder all at once. Josh just wanted to collect his pack and take the long walk into Savannah which could quite possibly be his last bit of freedom. Quite frankly, Josh figured his remaining days would either be in prison or a mental institution. He looked back into the front seat, but his pack was nowhere to be found. He scratched his head in confusion, but then realized that all the racing back and forth over the muddy quagmire might have either thrown the bag free of maybe relocated it into the back seat.

  Josh looked up and down the sloppy mess of Wild Heron Road, but the only outstanding mounds he saw on the very flat expanse of the road were the crumpled and shattered remains of Sally and Trent. With no other options available, Josh assumed the back seat was a good next guess. He opened the rear passenger’s door and sure enough, there on the axle hump, between the footwells was his familiar and well-worn North Face daypack. He leaned over to snag one of the shoulder straps, and as he stood back up, this blur of yowling, hissing black fur shot from the far side of the rear seat. Searing pain rippled through Josh’s head and neck and throat as it occurred to him he had finally gotten one question of the night answered: where is that homicidal feline anyway?

  Josh grasped wildly at the cat as it sunk its hooked claws from all four paws into his head and throat in a death grip. Josh howled in pain as he tried in vain to get even one of the set of talons off of him. The more he struggled and the more he fought, the tighter Spangles’ hold on him seemed to grow. The murderous feline then clamped down on the top of Josh’s head sinking its needle teeth deep into his skull. It was at this point that Josh, like Trent, fell to his knees in the mud as he thought maybe he could get free of the attack by rolling around in the mud. Surely cats, even one of an immortal nature as Spangles, would not like getting muddy and wet.

  However, Josh soon found out that perhaps being immortal had removed any normal set of characteristics from this particular cat. He could not say for sure if Spangles liked the slop, but he sure did not seem averse to it. In a final flurry, Josh did manage to pry the front claws of Spangles from his head, but in his highly fatigued state, Josh was unprepared to mount another defense as Spangles dove at his face and dug deep into Josh’s orbital cavities, ripping his eyes from their sockets. As he lay bleeding out, the last thing that occurred to Josh was how Spangles had just given up once he had rendered Josh blind. He supposed, that like most cats, even the magically immortal, that the chase and the takedown were all that mattered. That was certainly how their farm cats in Indiana had behaved.

  He guessed Spangles had sensed victory, or at least as President Bush had once erroneously announced to the armed forces in the Middle East: “Mission Accomplished”. Josh considered many things as his last minutes on Earth drained away into the goop of Wild Heron Road. He supposed his death would override jail or the cracker house. And all those pesky exams in college? Poof, gone! And the stress of trying out his new more assertive approach with women? Likewise, not a real concern anymore. Josh had always been proud of his sense of humor and he supposed that even in death he was glad it had remained intact. On the serious side, though? That belief that head wounds can bleed like a mother but not kill you? Josh discovered this is not always the case. Just a lesson for the kids…

  Epilogue

  Savannah, GA

  October 31, 2017

  In a graveyard, under the bare limbs of an old elm tree that had given up its foliage for the year, sat a group of five teenagers. Tommy Garrison and Larry Bordens had been born in Savannah, but Emily Rearden, Molly Stapleton, and Jimmy McGill were transplants. Both Emily and Molly came from military families, so all the moving around had become second nature to them by now. They still did not particularly like being uprooted on a regular basis as their fathers got new deployments, but it had made them flexible and despite the likelihood of moving on again soon, they made new friends quickly and easily. Jimmy was relatively new to Savannah, but he and Tommy and Larry had bonded almost instantaneously through a combination of sports and this garage band the three of them had put together over the summer.

  What had really bonded the group of five, though, was a shared love of all things scary. Movies, books, videos, oral legends…anything that gave any of them a shiver. For the last three falls, the five had come up with this idea to meet in the graveyard just north of the high school in Savannah to share horror stories. They did this several times a year, but Halloween was the one date they all looked forward to. Savannah was, the non-native kids came to find out, a true epicenter of all things with even a light touch of the supernatural. Nothing had to be authenticated, as they soon found out that both Emily and Molly had a real gift of storytelling from their own imaginations.

  However, what they really looked forward to was when it came time for either Tommy or Larry to take the spotlight. Their native Savannah status gave them a special cred for actual true tales of horror and ghosts and other supernatural genre. This year, Tommy was up. They knew Tommy often stretched the truth a bit to embellish or otherwise enhance his renderings, but none of the other four cared. Jimmy loved a good yarn no matter what and Larry and Tommy had been friends for so long he felt it was just an unspoken code to let Tommy slide if what he came up with was not quite 100% true. And Emily had such a crush on Tommy that he could have told her the oceans were made of Cheez-Whiz and she would have bought it.

  Molly Stapleton, however, was the unofficial conscience of the group of five. Her father was a drill sergeant in the Marines and she supposed his sense of right and wrong, black and white, up and down had been deeply ingrained in her as well. No matter how believable or how improbable, Molly was always ready to challenge the current session’s speaker on validity if it was claimed as such. So when they sat under the thin spindly and arthritic-looking branches of that elm that overhung their favorite spot in the graveyard, Molly had come prepared. Tommy assured them all he had a genuine, bonafide, honest-to-God true tale of the supernatural.

  “And it happened right here in Savannah!” he exclaimed as they sat and got comfortable.

  “Right in town?” Emily asked excitedly as she gazed at him with love-sick eyes.

  “Not right downtown, but close. Any of you ever hear of the Drummonds-Evans Mansion out just past Georgetown off the old Wild Heron Road?”

  They all shook their heads no. Larry knew of it and the Legend of Herbert von Kraken that his best bud, Tommy, was about to relate. But he did not want to steal his thunder and played along as if he had no clue. Tommy took a deep breath, looked across and all their eager faces and then began.

  ……….

  Tommy sat back once he had finished up with his presentation and waited for reactions. He always liked the feedback from his friends when his spin of the wheel came up to talk. Larry was of no real concern to Tommy as he was well aware that Larry knew the legend inside and out as well as the rumors in town about how three university students from Troy had gone out there last year and met with, as the newspaper reported: “a freak accident”. And Emily? Tommy knew that she felt the sun rose and set in his pants, so Emily was no worry. Jimmy? Jimmy cou
ld not have cared less if the story was true or not. It was Molly that Tommy was eager to hear from. He panned over their faces, but it was on Molly’s that his focus fell.

  “Pretty good yarn, Tommy.” Larry offered just to get the conversation started.

  “Yeah…” Emily added as she smiled broadly at Tommy. “Gave me the shivers!”

  What a shock, Tommy thought to himself.

  “Molly?” Tommy asked as she leaned back on her elbows.

  “I agree with Larry. Quite a yarn. Pretty soon you’ll be rivaling Emily and myself for best original story in a fictional category.”

  They all laughed and Tommy just smiled.

  “You doubt my claim that this is for real?” Tommy laid it on heavy adopting a sense of faux hurt feelings.

  “Overall.” Molly replied, “I might have bought it, if not for the immortal cat part.”

  “It’s all part of the legend, Molly, I assure you,” Tommy said as he winked at her.

  As much as Emily obsessed and fantasized over Tommy, he himself was finding he was developing quite a thing for Molly.

  “Anyone else here feel like he is yanking our chain?” Molly asked.

  Emily shot Molly a look of angry resentment, but behind her back. Emily was so far gone for Tommy, she took umbrage at anyone—ANYONE—who might question him.

  “A cat…” Molly went on, “living in 1885 gets used as a vessel for the soul of an insane scientist’s brother? That right?”

  “So says the legend…” Tommy replied.

  “And three kids from Troy were found out there last year, strewn across the road. No witnesses, no clues of what happened, nothing…just three dead bodies near this old mansion with the legend of a possessed cat?”

  “I had a feeling you might be skeptical.”

  Tommy got up and sat next to Molly, making Emily seethe with jealousy. He activated his phone and did a quick search on the unsolved triple fatalities from the previous year. He handed the phone to Molly and waited for her to read through the story.

  “OK…OK…” she acquiesced, “so the story from last year is real. My apologies on that front. But are you saying their deaths are somehow tied to the possessed Mr. Fluffy?”

  Larry and Jimmy joined in a laugh with Molly while Tommy grinned broadly and snickered. Emily just angrily crossed her arms over her chest and fumed internally. How dare she! Emily said to herself.

  “They were all found within spitting distance of the old mansion. Seems a possibility to me. Police finally gave up and just filed it as unsolved. Who knows?”

  “And on Halloween night to boot…” Larry added.

  “You suggesting something, Tommy?” Molly asked as she finally returned his smiles with one of her own, signaling she was picking up on his non-verbal hints.

  “Well…how about a quick run out to the mansion? One year ago tonight something weird happened out there. I say we poke through the mansion, then take a look see down the road where they found the dead college kids. Maybe we’ll find something the cops missed.”

  “Or maybe even a very old possessed cat?” Molly said with a flirtatious wink back at Tommy.

  “Who can say? Anyone up for this?”

  “I’m in,” said Larry.

  “Me, too,” added Jimmy.

  “Sure…why not,” Molly replied as she accepted a hand up from her sitting position from Tommy.

  “Emily?” Tommy asked as he looked over at the pouting girl.

  “Think I will pass. Need to get home early.”

  “You sure? It’ll be a hoot!” Tommy asked.

  “I’m sure. All of a sudden I’m not feeling so good anyway.”

  With that Emily stomped off back through the graveyard and out of sight.

  “What’s with her?” Molly asked as she put her hands on her hips and looked to where Emily had gone.

  Tommy shrugged.

  “Who cares? Lets’ go…this will be the coolest Halloween gig ever!”

  The Haunting of Harmony House

  By Riley Amitrani

  Prologue

  Virginia Beach, VA

  1710

  To the average connoisseur of haunted houses and other miscellaneous paranormal activities, the shore of Virginia might not seem like the most likely of places that would draw attention. However, despite the location perhaps not being on par with what are well-known in locales such as New Orleans, or New England, or even overseas in the United Kingdom, this part of the United States has its allure. Consider how the country was founded here, following the first European settlers’ departure from England to find a new land in which to practice freedom of religion. It is only natural that with all this history, at least from an American point of view, that paranormal activity would be inevitable. One of the more well-marketed examples is that of the Ferry Plantation House and the so-called “Witch of Pungo”.

  Since its first inhabitation in the early 1700’s, the legend of Ferry Plantation House has endured. From most accounts, this location has been credited with not one but up to eleven different hauntings, including a former slave known as Henry looking for vengeance, the cries of Sally Rebecca Walke grieving over her lover, or the Lady in White who tumbled down a flight of stairs breaking her neck…or perhaps just one of the many victims of a shipwreck in 1810 that occurred just off the coast. But the most sought-after sighting is that of Grace White Sherwood, the Witch of Pungo. Grace was a simple farmer and midwife also known for her skills as an herbalist, but what set her life on her ignominious moniker was her unparalleled beauty; some even pointed to her preference for wearing pants over dresses as too scandalous. The women of her day were highly threatened by her beauty and in turn, they accused her as being responsible for ruined harvests, bad weather, and dead livestock as they said she was known to “dabble with the Devil”.

  She was routinely dragged into court over these “offenses”, but it was not until 1706 when Elizabeth Hill obtained a guilty conviction for Grace’s status as a witch that people were satisfied. Elizabeth suffered a miscarriage, blamed Grace for her loss and the court ordered a trial by water: the old well-quoted belief of the day that witched cannot drown, as clean water will reject them. Some may remember the delightfully comic scene from Monty Python’s Holy Grail movie for this reference. Grace was ordered to be dunked into the Lynnhaven River, and should she fail to sink, would be guilty of having caused Elizabeth’s miscarriage. Unfortunately, Grace bobbed to the surface, so to further appease the incensed mob she was placed in jail. Grace was finally exonerated long after her death, and her legacy is now a tourist attraction in Virginia Beach.

  To add to the allure of the legend of the Witch of Pungo, a tale was created:

  “…on the night she died, she had her sons set her barely living body in front of the fireplace. At the moment of her death, a strong wind blew down the chimney, filling the house with smoke and soot. When the room cleared, Grace was gone and there was a cloven hoof print in the ashes, left by the Devil coming to reclaim his own…”

  During full moons now, it is reported that as feral cats gather in a tree under which Grace is thought to be buried to howl, her spirit rises to join them. Locals insist they have seen the image of a woman with long, wet hair walking the banks of the Lynnhaven River at night as well.

  ……….

  Suffolk, VA

  1940

  Overshadowed by the Ferry Plantation House, over in nearby Suffolk, Virginia is the equally odd and mysterious Harmony House. Though some say it is perhaps not quite as intriguing as the legend of the Witch of Pungo, it may be simply that Harmony House did not have as skilled a publicist and marketing team as the Ferry Plantation House. Harmony house was erected in the mid to late 1800’s, a typically modest structure of the era. It would not have drawn any undue attention based solely on its appearance. In retrospect, however, the name could not have been any more ironic based on its history. The original owner, Sampson Cross, had the house built and named after his fiancée, Harmony Adams.
Much like Grace Sherwood, Harmony Adams was a stunning beauty, though unlike Grace was admired rather than viewed with envy by their neighbors.

  However, soon after the construction of the new home was completed, and Sampson and Harmony were married and then took up residence, Harmony was stricken with consumption and died quickly as the disease ran its course. Consumption was typically known later as pulmonary tuberculosis and was especially lethal in the day due to lack of modern medical treatments. Afflicted patients, of which there were many, simply wasted away from the infection, thus being described as “being consumed” by the disease. Sampson sat by doing what he could to offer comfort and sustenance to his new bride, but in the depths of his soul, he knew he was just waiting out her death. Her passing left the poor, dedicated husband completely heartbroken and severely depressed. Sampson soon after, seeing no reason for living, took his own life.

  A few years later, the dark pall of Harmony House continued as Lance Horn, a notorious murderer, took up occupancy. Horn, prior to coming to live there, was a marginal persona in Suffolk, a seemingly harmless and mild-mannered man. But soon after settling his family into the house, with no real indication of why, Horn slaughtered his wife and three children creating the biggest scandal of the day for the town. Horn never put up any argument to refute his responsibility for the murders, and he was arrested and jailed where he spent the remainder of his days. Even up to his dying day, Horn never recanted his confession nor gave any indication of what had possibly made him commit such a horrendous and heinous crime.