The Haunting of Blackburn Manor

by Blake Croft

  She couldn’t stay there. It wouldn’t work. The thought had been germinating in her mind since Stewart— not his mother—had opened the door. Now a girl was in the hospital and the thought had bloomed into a decision.

  Linda was going to leave as soon as Ashley’s truck was ready. She didn’t know how they’d pay for the truck, or what they’d do about their employment contracts but she’d convince Ashley to leave.

  “Meow.” A cat slinked between her legs.

  “Hello little buddy,” Linda bent down to pet the cat. It let her pick it up.

  She looked back up at the manor.

  Someone darted back in the shadows in the front facing tower window.

  Linda wasn’t mistaken, not this time. She’d seen a face as clear as day. It had been oval, pale, and surrounded by flowing hair. Someone was up there. Linda stared at the tower windows. The rest of the upper story windows were curtained shut. Only the tower was unshuttered and allowed a bird’s eye view.

  “She seems to like you.”

  Linda whirled around, her grip loosening on the cat. The cat climbed her shoulder and tried to sit on her head. Grady was standing on the top of her porch peering down at her.

  “Guess there’s no accounting for a cat’s taste.” Grady shrugged. “They have a penchant for nasty things like dead rats and bugs, so there you go.”

  Linda’s lips pressed together in a disapproving line. “They flock to you like flies to a corpse.”

  “Ha!” Grady laughed, but there was no humor in her voice. “She speaks. And here I thought only your sister had any gumption. Come along, Tiddles,” she motioned to the cat. “Don’t go wasting your affections on people who won’t stick around.”

  Linda started. How did old miserable Grady know of her plans to leave when she hadn’t even told Ashley?

  The cat padded back to the porch.

  “Read your mind, did I?” Grady crowed. “I know I have, since you’ve gone as white as a sheet.”

  “How…”

  “No one sticks long in that house.” Grady made a sour face at Blackburn Manor. “Not with her in there.”

  Linda’s throat went dry. She licked her lips and glanced back at the tower window where she had seen the darting figure. Had Grady seen it too?

  “You mean Marisa?” Linda asked, her hands shaking slightly.

  “Of course not Marisa, you dolt,” Grady snapped. “She’s only been here a few weeks.”

  “Then who?” Linda snapped. “Why do you insist on speaking in riddles? If you know anything about the house, I would like to know.”

  Grady’s thin mouth got thinner, as she sucked her lips in like she’d licked a particularly sour lemon. Her face darkened and looked more thunderous than the sky. “Why don’t you figure it out yourself?” She gathered her cat from the porch and stormed back into her house.

  Her screen door slammed shut.

  Cursing under her breath, Linda walked back to the other side of the street. A glimmering white flash above her caught her attention, and she looked up. Was it the figure again or just lightning? Linda walked forward and the earth slipped from under her feet.

  Linda screamed as her feet parted ways, going in opposite directions in the mud. She fell in a heap on the muddy ground. Every inch of her was covered in the sludge.

  “Ugh,” Linda groaned and pulled herself up again. Making an effort not to look back at Grady peeking through her curtains and laughing at her, Linda climbed the porch steps and reached in her pocket for her key.

  Only there wasn’t one. She’d left her key with her purse in her bedroom. She was locked outside.

  Chapter 13

  “Ashley!” Linda banged on the door for the third time. “Goddammit!”

  This was just great. She was locked outside looking like a stinking Bog Woman. It was no use banging on the door. Ashley was probably on the second floor office listening to music with headphones on to concentrate on her job, and she couldn’t hear her. There was nothing for it.

  A light rain began to fall.

  Linda sighed, and ran to the back of the house. Linda knew it was Cindy’s day off since Stewart was at home, but she had wanted to avoid him. She had seen him at his most vulnerable last night, and she didn’t think she was in any frame of mind to comfort him when she herself was so confused about what was going on, and what she wanted to do about the future.

  She knocked on the Blackburn backdoor anyway, three sharp raps, and stood back to wait.

  Heavy footsteps trudged towards the door, and a few seconds later Stewart was standing there peering at her from red-rimmed eyes. His face was puffy and red in places. She could see he had attempted to shave, but done it badly. There were spots he’d missed all around his chin and jaw. There were streaks of dirt in his hair and on his clothes.

  “Wow,” he said, a faint light sparkling behind his tired eyes. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  “You don’t look so hot yourself.” Linda smiled.

  “Oh,” Stewart looked at his dirty hands and smiled sheepishly. “I was in the garden shed fixing the light so it’d be easy for you to find your tools. I just got back in a few minutes ago.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “I just missed you, huh?” Linda’s smile was strained. “May I go through? I’ve locked myself out.”

  Stewart’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course.” He stepped aside to let her in.

  Linda took off her mucky shoes outside and stepped into the warm glow of the kitchen, acutely aware of how dirty she was.

  “You can clean up a little in here,” he led her towards the stairs. “I’ll rustle up some towels for you.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll just clean up at home. Where’s Evelyn?” Linda felt uncomfortable using the facilities in this part of the manor. She couldn’t explain why. It felt like an intrusion.

  “She’s taking a nap right now,” Stewart said, climbing the stairs.

  The phone rang in the sitting room. Stewart gave Linda and apologetic look and picked it up. Linda shuffled towards the door that would lead her to the main hall trying not to get dirt anywhere.

  “Hello? Oh, hi, Dr. Humphries.”

  Linda stopped in her tracks. She turned back to face Stewart. He seemed to read the question on her mind and nodded in such a way that communicated that he’d let her know about Marisa as soon as he got off the phone.

  While she waited, Linda observed her surroundings. She had stopped by the stairs that led to the upper floor of this wing. These stairs were much different from the steep spiral ones in the main hall. Thick grey carpet muffled their footsteps, and framed pictures and thin wooden shelves lined the walls. The shelves housed strange masks and a wooden urn. Linda recognized Stewart in a few pictures, and lots of people she didn’t know.

  There was one picture in particular that caught her attention. She stopped half way up the stairs, looking intently at the picture. It was tinged in sepia with age but the house in the background was unmistakably the Blackburn Manor.

  A little girl of about four was captured in the act of running in the forefront. Her light hair was tied in two ponytails. Her smile was so wide, it forced her eyes to crinkle shut. She was in a fairy costume complete with a set of wings. A tall man in a suit stood behind her, grinning in obvious pride.

  That wasn’t what had caught her eye. It was the shadowy figure in the tower window staring down at the father and child that had stopped her.

  “Thank you so much doctor. I’ll see you in a while.”

  Stewart finished the call and joined her at the foot of the stairs.

  “Who is that?” she blurted out.

  Stewart looked at the picture she was pointing to.

  “What?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. There was no going back now.

  “The very top floor,” Linda explained. “With the large bay windows. It looks like someone lives there.” She pointed at the picture.

  Stewart frowned as he peered at the picture a
nd chuckled. “That’s my Mom –when she was a kid– and my grandad. And that,” he pointed to the figure in the window, “is my grandma’s dressmaker dummy complete with wooden head for her hats.”

  “A dummy?” Linda was nonplussed.

  “Yeah.” Stewart laughed. “My grandma used to sew her own dresses. After she died, my Mom used the dummy to use as a Halloween prop. She’d dress it up in old rags or dresses and put makeup or masks on the head to scare anyone driving by. I think it might still be up there.”

  Linda stared at the picture. The quality was grainy, and she couldn’t make out any discernible features. Had she really just seen the side of some rickety old dressmaker’s dummy?

  Reluctantly, she tore herself away from the picture. “Ashley called the hospital this morning but they didn’t give her a clear answer. Has Marisa regained consciousness?”

  “She has.” He nodded. “Dr. Humphries says she’s very lucky she didn’t sustain much damage to her back and neck. I’m going to go visit this afternoon.”

  “Good.” Linda tucked her hair behind her ear. “I hope she can come home soon.”

  “She’s a fighter.” Stewart ran a hand through his hair. “She’s only been here a few weeks, but it feels like I’ve known her forever.” His eyes still gleamed, but now it was because they were filled with unshed tears.

  “Hey.” Linda touched his arm. “She’ll be all right. As you said, she seems to be out of danger.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and touched the back of her hand signaling his appreciation for her support. “She’ll be home soon, hopefully.”

  Linda nodded, and fished for anything to change the subject. “I saw your collection. What’s the mask?”

  “Huh? Oh, it’s a ghost mask from West Africa.” Stewart led her down the stairs. “A friend of mine got it on one of his expeditions in the Sahara.”

  “How interesting,” Linda said, wondering if the mask were contributing to the phenomenon in the house. “Is the urn from there as well?”

  “No, the urn is from the funeral parlor in Hackridge.”

  “What?”

  “We cremated my dog, Buddy, and they gave us the ashes in that urn.” He stopped a few steps above the landing. “Here he is.”

  Linda looked at the framed picture he was pointing at. A younger looking Stewart was sitting on a couch while a large golden retriever sat on his lap.

  “Cute,” Linda said.

  “I’ve never been called that before.” He smiled up at her.

  Linda blushed.

  “I’m just kidding. Come on.”

  Linda followed him to the door of their apartments. He opened it and she finally had access to the main hall. She felt a little dizzy. When was the last time she had eaten? Did they even have groceries for the four days they were going to have to stay here? There wasn’t much left in the pantry.

  “Thanks,” Linda said, pulling the hem of her skirt down. “I would have been stuck out there for hours.”

  “No problem,” Stewart grinned. “Anything you need just let me know.”

  “There is, actually,” Linda said. “Could you please drop me off in town on your way to Hackridge’s hospital this afternoon? I need to buy some groceries.”

  “Of course, no problem,” Stewart nodded. “How will you get back though?”

  “I’ll find a ride,” she smiled.

  “Okay.” Stewart nodded. His smile was at once shy and sheepish. The air was charged with more than the lingering storm outside. “I’ll see you later.” He walked to his portion of the house, glancing back to catch her eye.

  Linda’s stomach fluttered. She bit her lip and stepped back to close the door.

  The natural light did not illuminate much of the room for a late spring afternoon; Linda stepped closer to the window to get a look at the weather. The rain had stopped, but the clouds were still dominating the sky. Movement from across the street caught her attention. Grady’s face was peering through her front windows like a malevolent moon.

  Chapter 14

  The second floor of the house, where the offices were located, was a mixture of old gothic features and cheap office furniture. The landing windows weren’t stained but the arches were pointed and carved into the wall which rose to high ceilings. Linda walked through a warren of cubicles to the individual offices in the back.

  It was less oppressive than downstairs but still held shadows. The air was dusty and stale.

  A metal plaque with ‘Accounts’ etched on it was nailed to the door on the far left.

  Linda opened it and peered inside.

  There were two desks pushed against either side of the room and three large filing cabinets in the middle like pillared dividers between them.

  Ashley wasn’t there.

  Where could she be? Linda wondered.

  She went back downstairs to the staff quarters, the air getting chillier as she descended. At Ashley’s bedroom door she knocked slightly before walking in.

  Ashley was sprawled on the bed deep in sleep.

  “Ashley.” Linda shook her sister gently.

  “… skjmbuuh…” Ashley mumbled, swatted at her hand and snored loudly.

  Linda looked around the empty room. Ashley’s laundry was lying in a pile on the chair, her duffle bag open littered with paperbacks and assorted toiletries. Linda rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a pen and an old receipt. Scribbling furiously on the back of the receipt she tucked it under Ashley’s phone on the floor.

  She got up to leave but then kissed her sister’s forehead as an afterthought.

  After a shower and getting into clean clothes, Linda had eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Time had ticked by. She tried to follow the news on her mobile phone, but the internet connection was lame, and after a few minutes, she turned on the TV. She had flipped through a few channels, not really concentrating on the screen.

  Ashley had slept throughout. Linda had figured her sister must have lain down for a five minutes nap before going to the office floor but the nap had turned into a solid block of sleep.

  A horn blared from the front of the house. Linda increased her pace. She glanced at the painting on her way out the door. The black splotch was still there, taunting her. The horn blared again. She had no time to stop and examine the wretched painting.

  Linda grabbed her house keys from the key hook by the door before she left the manor. Stewart was sitting in his car. The clouds hadn’t dispersed, but they were less ominous now. Grady was sitting on her porch, a regular, creepy fixture in their lives.

  “Sorry,” Linda apologized as she got in the passenger seat. “I was trying to wake Ashley, but she’s out like a light.”

  “Probably exhausted from last night.” Stewart backed out of the drive way.

  “Hmm.” Linda stared intently at the bay windows of the tower.

  She looked for any twists of shadow, any hint of light to reveal the dummy and put her mind to rest. The clouds reflected off the glass making it hard to make anything out, but Linda persisted till her eyes watered.

  It was as they were pulling away down the road that she saw it. A still form standing in the gloom of the attic, a plumed hat sitting on its head at a jaunty angle. There were no arms, or appendages and the form seemed absolutely still, disturbingly so.

  Maybe that’s what she had seen. Curiously, Linda felt far from relieved.

  “Has your family always owned the manor or did they buy it?” Linda asked settling in for the fifteen-minute journey.

  “My ancestor Arthur Blackburn bought the land a little after the war of independence. He was a famous man around here. I learned all about him from Mrs. Grady across the street.”

  “I bet she was a real Gorgon at school.”

  “Actually, she was one of the best teachers we had until she retired.”

  Linda held her breath as they passed the intersection where Ashley’s car had crashed against a tree. Even though it had happened yesterday, it felt like years ago.
<
br />   “You’re kidding me?” she said when they finally turned on the bend. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Yeah, well.” Stewart shrugged. “Old age and feeling dispensable isn’t the best for developing sunny personalities.”

  Linda took this in and realized there was a lot of merit in what he said. “So how old is the house?”

  “It was constructed in 1792 by Arthur Blackburn. He even owned the mine in the hill along the road from the house. In the 1860s, Samuel Blackburn –one of his descendants and the heir of the domain– amended the manor to stick to the design of the Victorian-era. Lots of development and prosperity, until the 1870’s when a few miners died. No one’s really sure what happened, but after that the mine was abandoned. There was a speakeasy there during the prohibition; it’s been empty for as long as I can remember. A mining company tried to make a go of it but the mine’s exhausted. It belongs to Blackwood County for quite a long time, but it’s abandoned now.”

  “Wow.” Linda whistled. “That’s a very rich history. Don’t you feel overwhelmed living in a piece of historical significance?”

  “It does get annoying when the tourists prance around the gardens,” Stewart joked. “But yes, history is seeped deep in the roots of our house. Sometimes, I can feel it weighing down on me. Imagine all that those walls have seen.”

  A shudder went down her spine. She couldn’t imagine what the walls had seen, but she could very well attribute the gift of sight to the house. There were points in the day when it felt like the very foundations were groaning under an unseen weight, that the house was listening and brooding in silence.

  “How come there are no other houses nearby?” Linda asked. “I’m not trying to be nosey. Just curious.”

  Stewart laughed. “It’s a miracle Grady managed to build her house at all. We suffered as much as anyone during the Depression and the 2008 stock market crash. My grandfather was forced to sell some of the property; the mines for instance and the acres of land across the street from the house. Mom never liked that; she detested Grady and her house; called it an eyesore. She managed to get further building permits stalled so much, that others just abandoned the idea of building here.”