The Haunting of Blackburn Manor

by Blake Croft

  “Marisa?” Linda hadn’t been listening. She inched closer to Marisa. The woman’s face was in shadow, and her figure was slightly hunched, arms dangling by her side as if they had no life in them. “Marisa, what’s happened?”

  Linda touched her shoulder and shook it slightly.

  Marisa screamed, and lifted her face so it caught the light.

  Linda cried out and stepped back.

  Staring red rimmed eyes shone in a face contorted in a terrible grimace. The lips were chapped in places and bitten red in the other. Her face was ashen white.

  Where only a few seconds ago Marisa had been as good as comatose, she was now a frenzy of activity, hands flailing in front of her face, face stretched in a grimace. A choking wheeze like the huffing of a tired locomotive came from her mouth. She bolted through the living room and into the main hall.

  Linda ran after her. Marisa ran pell-mell towards the front door and smashed into it like a terrified bird caught indoors, desperately seeking a way out. Her head hit the wood as her body stood taut. Her hands jerked up and down the frame looking for the handle.

  Her moans became deeper, gravelly.

  Ashley came to stand beside Linda. Her shaking hand found Linda’s and squeezed it.

  They tiptoed a little closer. Linda’s flesh had turned to ice. Her heart mimicked the sound of Marisa’s head hitting the wall.

  Thud

  Thud

  Thud

  “Marisa?” Ashley’s voice trembled.

  Marisa’s head snapped to attention. The silence was oppressive, pregnant with malicious intent. Linda suddenly preferred the sound of head on door to this silence.

  Marisa’s hand found the knob. She turned it, and snatched the door open.

  Her slight body was silhouetted against the yellow street light. Shadowy steam hung about her form, like a grey aura so faint that Linda could only see it if she didn’t look directly at it but from the side of her eye.

  Marisa walked purposefully towards the end of the small porch, her movements short and jerky, like her limbs were stiff and not entirely in her control.

  The front steps were only four feet above the ground but they were steep and the bottom was scattered with gravel. If Marisa didn’t stop she could trip…

  Marisa’s body swayed at the edge, propelling forward, arms by her side.

  “Marisa!” Linda cried. “Be careful!”

  Marisa leaned forward on the balls of her feet, her upper body suspended in the air, ready to fall…

  Her arm shot out and grabbed the banister.

  Her body swung, the fall jarred by the arm, and she went crashing into the banister, her feet tripping over themselves.

  Marisa screamed.

  The faint shadow around her flitted away. Linda watched in horror as it rose in the air and beat down upon Marisa’s prone body clinging desperately at the banister to break her fall.

  Her fingers lost their grip, her eyes rolled up into her skull, and her mouth lay slack, unconscious.

  She tumbled down like a rag doll, injured head crashing against the stone stairs before she came to rest on the gravel path.

  By the time Linda reached Marisa, she was a heap on the concrete.

  Chapter 10

  Marisa was still breathing, but just barely.

  Linda kneeled beside her, eyes flitting over the street and dark woods for any sign of the grey shadow she had seen just minutes before.

  Ashley was banging on Stewart’s door.

  “Stewart!” Ashley screamed. “Marisa’s fallen down the porch steps! We need your help!”

  Across the street, Grady’s window bloomed yellow. Her slightly stooped figure came out on to the porch to investigate what had happened, a shotgun in hand. Linda recoiled at the sight of the gun.

  Stewart finally opened the door. Linda saw the disheveled hair, and the blinking, crumpled face stare at Ashley as if she was talking gibberish. It was only when he looked past her and down at Marisa’s prone body that the situation sank in.

  He was suddenly alert.

  He sprinted down the steps and was by her side.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “We got another message,” Linda explained, slightly breathless. “Marisa was all quiet at first, like she was asleep on her feet but then…”

  “She went berserk when Linda touched her,” Ashley said in a rush. “One minute she was a statue, the next she was this crazy lady who was banging her head against the door, and then nearly pitched herself off the porch like she had a death wish.”

  Stewart had gone very pale. Two points of red blazed in the apples of his cheeks. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes.

  “She’s still breathing,” Linda said. “I think we should take her to the hospital.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Stewart shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to his knees. “There’s practically no blood.” He turned Marisa over. A large weal scarred her face where gravel had scrapped the skin off. It was true, there was very little blood, but Marisa’s eyes were thin strips of white underneath her eyelids.

  “She’s just had a nasty fall.” Linda’s voice rose an octave. Hysteria bubbled up her throat. “We have to get help for her!”

  “I never said we won’t get help.” Stewart pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll call Dr. Humphries from Keystone. If we call an ambulance from Hackridge, it will take twenty minutes to get here. Dr. Humphries will come in ten. Which do you think is a better option?” he snapped.

  “I think he’s right.” Ashley nodded. “We should call a doctor first, and then the ambulance. If Dr. Humphries thinks she should be taken to the hospital, at least we’ll already have one on the way.”

  The compromise sounded fair enough.

  Linda sat with Marisa, stroking her arm. She picked pieces of gravel from her hair. Stewart went back into the house to make a call. Ashley sat on a porch step. Grady didn’t move from her porch, her gun was still held in a pose of casual violence. Minutes passed, Linda didn’t know how many, and with each ticking second Marisa grew paler.

  Lights flashed in the distance.

  Red and blue.

  Linda blinked. Had Stewart called the ambulance? And how had it got here so fast?

  The vehicle pulled up to the curb.

  Linda’s breath hitched in her throat.

  Officers Wilson and Carter stepped out of their police cruiser. Grady seemed to relax on her porch. She even set her gun down by her rocking chair. Linda felt a flash of hate towards the heartless woman for calling the cops but not an ambulance.

  Their boots crunched on the gravel. Linda’s body shook.

  Officer Wilson bent down to sit on his haunches. He observed the scene; scratched his head and sighed. He touched Marisa’s neck with two fingers. “She’s still got a pulse but it’s very faint.”

  Stewart came out of the manor. He looked worse than before. The red and blue lights flashing on his face didn’t do him any favors either. There was dirt in his hair, and the hems of his pajamas. He was holding his cellphone and a blanket in a tight grip.

  “Dr. Humphries will be here in five minutes. It’s lucky he was already out on a house call.” He opened the blanket and covered Marisa, tucking it around her prone form tenderly. His fingers trembled slightly, and Linda could tell he was completely distraught but trying to keep a brave front.

  “What happened exactly?” Officer Wilson asked piercing Linda with his clear blue eyes. He was standing with his back to the street and Linda could see Grady creeping closer over his shoulder. One of her cats padded by her feet. The grainy yellow streetlight hit her from behind, leaving her face in sinister shadows. It jumped up into Grady’s arms and she cradled the feline like it was her baby.

  “We got a call that Marisa was pushed down the stairs,” Officer Carter added helpfully, his mustache quivering.

  “We were asleep,” Ashley said. “I woke up in the middle of the night to the phone ringing.”
>
  “Do you know what time exactly?” Officer Wilson had taken out a pocket book and pencil and was jotting down notes.

  “I don’t know,” Ashley shrugged. “I guess it was a little after two. We all sleep upstairs, and the phone is in the living room so Linda and I came downstairs. Marisa was already there, but she was in this sleep-state. It's hard to explain.”

  “Like sleepwalking?” Grady croaked from behind Officer Wilson.

  Though her annoyance at Grady’s presence was like a physical fire in her belly, these words gave Linda pause.

  Ashley glanced at Linda. “Yeah, something like that. Anyway the call goes to answering machine, and it’s another weird message.”

  Officer Wilson frowned. “What do you mean by ‘weird’ exactly?”

  “No one spoke… strange noises… we have the recordings if you want to listen,” Ashley snapped. She looked agitated. “Point is, after the call we tried to get Marisa to respond, but she went mad. Started to scream, and run all over the place until she ran out the door, and didn’t stop at the top of the stairs. I’m just glad she didn’t break her neck in the fall.”

  Both police officers looked perplexed. Even Grady looked thunderstruck. She was holding the cat so tight the feline was yowling and scratching at Grady’s arm to be released. Linda found her behavior very strange.

  Stewart was sitting on the porch step, his face blank. He was in shock and Linda wasn’t sure if he was even listening to the conversation.

  “Could I hear the messages?” Officer Wilson asked, closing his pocket book.

  He was looking directly at her. All of them were. The back of her neck prickled, and it felt like even the house behind her was peering at her closely, the entire structure focused on her.

  “Of course,” Linda led him into the house. The living room was still the same, but it felt different from a few minutes ago. Linda would never be able to disassociate what had happened from this room.

  She walked forward and pressed the play button on the answering machine.

  “You should sit down,” Officer Wilson said, his tone off hand. “You look like you’ll fall asleep on your feet.”

  Linda did as she was told.

  The messages began to play.

  Linda’s eyes grew heavy as the scratch and thud of wind against a microphone came from the machine. The hair on the back of her neck tingled in anticipation of a haunting voice and when the melody started darkness edged her vision and her head lolled to one side. Her thoughts meandered in that state of gloom.

  She could smell rich, sodden earth; the kind of black soil that gave life to trees and flowers.

  Soil gave life. It healed.

  Maybe they should bury Marisa in fertile earth so it could heal her…

  Her limbs were heavy.

  A grey specter flitted in and out of her vision, teasing her with its amorphous state.

  She needed to sleep.

  “Miss Green.”

  Her eyes snapped open. Scott Wilson was kneeling on the floor in front of her, his hand was on her knee. He was shaking it gently.

  “I know you’re tired, and I’ll let you go to bed in a bit,” he said. “But I need you to answer just a few questions.”

  Linda licked her dry lips and nodded. Had she been thinking of burying poor Marisa? What was wrong with her?

  “Do you recognize any of these numbers?”

  “No,” Linda cleared her throat. “I mean I didn’t, but Marisa knew this landline number. It was from the adjoining apartment. We thought it might be Cindy, but she left in the afternoon, and Stewart’s mother can’t move her arms.”

  His eyes widened. He glanced outside the door, and Linda got to observe his profile. He wasn’t strictly handsome, but he had a boyish charm to him.

  “And this one?”

  “No,” Linda shook her head again. “I don’t know this one at all.”

  “Oh,” Officer Wilson ran a hand over his mouth. “Okay. I’ll look into this number and try to find out who it belongs to. Thank you for your time.”

  He got up and made to leave. He stopped suddenly at the painting above Linda’s head. She glanced at it too. It was full of moving shadows in the dim light.

  “I thought I saw…” He glanced at the open door. Linda followed his gaze. A car was coming slowly down the street. “Looks like Dr. Humphries is here.” He nodded and left the manor.

  Linda followed him and joined Ashley in the front yard. They watched as a middle aged doctor, broad shouldered and silver haired, rushed out of his idling car to inspect Marisa. She looked yellow, and sickly. It didn’t look like she was breathing at all.

  “This is getting odder by the minute,” Ashley sighed beside Linda. “And that Grady woman is getting on my last nerve. I swear I’ll start kicking her cats up trees if she doesn’t quit the whole creepy cat lady routine. God, I’m tired.”

  Linda nodded absently. She stretched her arms and stifled a yawn. Her mind was numb with lack of sleep and worry for Marisa.

  Her back was like a tightly wound rope. Her shoulders hunched as she watched Dr. Humphries examine Marisa. Tears pricked her eyes, and her body flushed hot and cold.

  After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Humphries straightened and stood up.

  “Her heartbeat is very faint,” he said to Stewart. “Did you call the ambulance?”

  “Yes.” Stewart’s voice was hoarse. “It should be here any minute.”

  “It was good you didn’t move her.” Dr. Humphries rubbed his chin. “There isn’t much blood, but with this kind of fall I won’t be sure of the trauma to her spine until we get her to the hospital.”

  Linda tore her eyes away from Marisa’s prone body. The more she looked at her, the more upsetting it became. Flashes of the flickering shadow around Marisa’s body kept rising before her eyes. She scuffed her toes in the grass, the cold earth stinging her skin.

  Earth… regenerating soil…

  Her eyes grew heavy and she swayed on the spot.

  “Whoa.” Ashley held her before she could fall. “You okay?”

  “We should bury her,” Linda mumbled faintly.

  “What?” Ashley asked. “I can’t hear you.”

  “You should take her to bed.”

  “She looks tired.”

  “This must be upsetting for her.”

  Linda had no idea who was speaking. Her eyes were so heavy they felt glued shut. She couldn’t open them, no matter how hard she tried. Someone guided her to the manor, and helped her up the stairs. Her limbs dragged under the weight of sudden exhaustion.

  Somehow, she made it to her bed where the sleep she had struggled to keep at bay engulfed her.

  Chapter 11

  Linda walked down the passage on trembling legs. The smell of damp earth was strong in her nose, and it covered the roof of her mouth like a slick patina of dirt. All of her senses were overpowered. She saw, smelled, tasted, and felt loamy earth and rock. She could even hear the echoing thrum of it, like she was walking in the veins of some large beast.

  It wasn’t completely dark, nor was it infused with light. The walls gave off a pearlescent glow. Water dripped steadily down the tunnel, and she could hear the distant murmur of a crowd punctuated by the sound of metal clanging against metal. Linda could make out a few drifting words.

  … Oisin… injured… blood… bury him… healing… mother earth…

  Where was she? What was happening?

  As if they had been waiting for her to think that question, the murmuring voices stopped. Water dripped in malignant silence.

  Linda took a step back from the dark mouth of the passage.

  An ice-cold draft buffeted her from behind, pushing her forward.

  Linda moaned, whirled around.

  And screamed.

  Men stood in front of her, their eyes hollow, their mouths gashes. There were too many to count. They went on and on as far as the eye could see, choking the passage. Their faces were expressionless. They wore dirty torn pant
s held up by suspenders, and peaked flat hats and jackets. The man in the front with the large mustache held the body of a young boy. The boy’s eyes and nose were caked with mud.

  Linda stumbled back and fell. Her feet tried to lift her up, but the ground was soft loamy earth. Her hands clawed at the walls for support, and she lifted herself up.

  He’s dead.

  The voices invaded her even though none of them spoke, their mouths unmoving.

  He’s cold, and hungry, and DEAD!

  Linda cried out.

  The mob surged forward.

  Linda screamed and fell again, but this time she hit hard wood. She looked around frantically to see where her pursuers were, lifting her hands to protect her face.

  Sunlight hit her in the eye, blinding her. She looked around her room disoriented.

  Out of habit, she reached for her glasses and put them on.

  It took her a while to realize she wasn’t in Brooklyn, but Keystone. She had no memory of coming back to her room last night.

  Last night!

  Getting up on wobbling knees, Linda left her room. She stood in the sunlit hall for a moment staring at Marisa’s open bedroom door. Magazines were stacked on the bedside table, crocheted dolls lined a shelf above her bed, bras and panties dried on the back of a chair. It felt like a vulgar invasion of Marisa’s privacy. Linda shut the door gently.

  It was unreal what had happened last night. She sent up a quick prayer for her counselor.

  Shunting back into her room, Linda sat heavily on her bed. She could still smell the damp earth from her dreams.

  A dream…

  That was all it was, yet it had felt so real.

  Taking a deep reassuring breath, Linda took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. They stung with sudden pain.

  “Ow,” she yelped. She blinked against the grit in her eye, using the sheets to clear the tears streaming down her face. “What the heck?”

  She looked down at her palms to see what could have caused the obstruction.

  They were covered in dirt.

  Black soil was caked under her nails.