The Haunting of Blackburn Manor

by Blake Croft

  Linda chewed over that information.

  “I like your shirt.” Stewart’s gentle comment pulled her out of her thoughts.

  She looked down at the Calvin and Hobbs print on her shirt and flushed pink. “I know it’s a bit geeky.” Linda straightened her knee length shirt over her jeans.

  “I like it,” Stewart’s knuckles brushed her knee as he changed gears. “You looked nice in it.”

  Linda’s fingers trembled. She tucked her hair back a little too aggressively, and knocked her glasses into her lap.

  Cursing under her breath, she jammed her glasses back on her nose. Leave it to her to go to pieces at a simple compliment from a man. “Thank you,” she managed to mumble. Marisa was right. She needed to man up or settle with everyone walking all over her.

  Keystone was a seasonal town. It boasted a population of six thousand all year round that swelled to ten to fifteen thousand during the summer tourist rush. There were bait and tackle shops for the nearby lake, bike and speedboat rentals, and there was also a Starbucks clone. It was a fifteen-minute drive from Keystone to the Blackburn Manor, but it felt like it spanned years. Where the manor was steeped in suspended time, Keystone was heading slowly into the future, trying hard to ignore the history and legacy of a mining town that had faced its share of controversy.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Linda said when Stewart pulled the car in beside the Big Brown Bag, the local grocery store.

  “We should get dinner sometime,” Stewart said. “After Marisa comes home and things settle down a bit, I’d love to show you around. The lake this time of year is a must see.”

  Linda swallowed her anxiety and smiled brightly. “Sure, we’ll plan something.”

  It took a lot of courage to lie like that when she had no intention of sticking around. Before her violent separation from Jackson, lying was never an option. White lies snowballed into avalanches, and she’d find herself crushed under Jackson’s weight as he pummeled her face into the floorboards.

  She got out of the car, and waved Stewart goodbye. She bit her lip. She had told Stewart one more lie; groceries were only her second priority, she wanted to get to the library and get some research done on the history of the house and town. The internet connection at the Manor was sketchy and the mobile network abysmal. Obviously, telecom operators had no reason to spend money to have cables or antennas covering such remote areas; the bad weather and the hill behind the house didn’t help. She had no way of getting any research done at home.

  Unsure of where the library was Linda thought to get her groceries and ask the teller at check out. She was rummaging in her bag for her shopping list, and she didn’t see where she was going. Her foot tripped over the small step in front of the grocery store, and she went flying.

  Strong arms grabbed her arms and broke her fall.

  “You have to be more careful than that, you know.” It was Officer Wilson, only he wasn’t in uniform. He looked much younger in a casual T-shirt and jeans. “I can’t always be there to save you.”

  Linda straightened her shirt. “You’ve never saved me before, Officer Wilson,” she said tetchily. “But thank you.”

  “Scott, please. I’m off duty.” His grin was infectious. “How’s Marisa? You get any news?”

  “Stewart got a call this morning. She’s conscious. He’s gone to see when she’ll be released.” Linda grabbed a shopping cart and rolled down the cereal aisle.

  Scott nodded, and his eyes brightened again. “That’s good news. I hate hospitals; never can stick around in them for more than ten minutes. Depress the hell out of me. It’s true I haven’t saved your life, technically,” he said reading the back of a Cheerio’s box. “But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. You look like the type that needs saving.”

  Linda bristled at the comment but choose to stay quiet.

  “Speaking of type,” Scott said, dumping a box of Lucky Charms in his cart. “What type do you think Stewart is?”

  “What?” Linda asked pretending to choose between Captain Crunch and Frosties.

  “I know you haven’t known him for long, but what kind of man do you think he is?”

  “Why are you so concerned about Stewart?” Linda turned on him not bothering to hide her annoyance.

  “Because he lied,” Scott said. “He said that call from his apartment was a fluke, a one-time thing. It isn’t.”

  Linda had stopped pretending to ignore him. “What do you mean?”

  “After Marisa was dispatched to the hospital, I went to check the records of both incoming and outgoing calls from your phone. There have been several calls from Stewart’s landline number.”

  “But that could be a coincidence,” Linda said. “He must have called a tenant or two for something or the other at some point during their stay.”

  “The calls were at specific times.” Scott was looking at her intently, persuading her too see something only he could. “All of them were at three fifteen, both AM and PM, and all calls lasted one minute fourteen seconds.”

  Realization dawned and Linda’s mouth fell. “The recordings…”

  “Are a minute and fourteen seconds each,” Scott finished her sentence.

  The earth quaked under her feet and she felt her balance shift and tilt this way and that. “Wha…” Linda cleared her dry throat. “You think Stewart knew about the phone calls?”

  “Either that, or something very weird is going on in that house.”

  You don’t know the half of it, Linda thought.

  “And what about the other number?” Linda asked.

  “Registered under a Manuel Costanzo. I called the guy, and he had no memory of calling at that time of night. In fact, his phone data did not corroborate the call. So, I dug deeper.” He beamed like the cat that had slurped up all the cream and devoured a canary or two, and was very proud. “The previous registered owner was a Shannon Dorothy. She’s a nurse in Hackridge and worked at Blackburn Manor about eight months ago. I tried to get in touch with her but so far no luck.”

  Linda chewed the inside of her cheek. A lot of her hopes had been riding on finding enough information on the Blackburn Manor to rationalize her suspicions, and to give a framework to her hallucinations but this was more of a tangled web than she had imagined.

  And what of the throng of men she had seen in her dream? The strange song hadn’t been in a man’s voice, and Marisa had seen a woman too.

  And the woman rushing down the stairs the first night she had come…

  Maybe Scott was on to the identity of what was wrong with Blackburn Manor.

  And then there was the tickling sensation at the back of her throat, a niggling thought which had germinated when she was a little girl but had been quashed by the doctors – she had supernatural sensitivity. As a child it had been a logical explanation for the strange sights she had seen, but that had disturbed her mother more than the diagnosis of night terrors and sleep paralysis. At least the medical conditions had clear and definable names and cures.

  Ashley had never believed her, but Linda always thought she heard her mother warning her every time she was headed into danger. This morning, she had thought she’d heard her in the basement, and long before, she had heard her faint warnings before her wedding, before the final day of abuse.

  Now that Linda was willing to admit it to herself, she had freaked out because she had heard her mother’s voice as clear as day, whispering her name in the basement of Blackburn Manor.

  She knew it sounded crazy, and if Ashley ever found out about her belief she would make fun of her. However, it comforted her in the lonely hours before dawn, and that was more than enough for her.

  Her mother was trying to warn her about some danger at the manor. Linda was now convinced it had to do with the history of the house. There was something hidden, some catastrophic event that had triggered something terrible to remain.

  She might be wrong to reopen the possibility of her sensitivity to supernatural elements but at this point it w
ould be negligent not to listen to her instincts.

  “Is there a library in town?” she asked.

  Scott looked startled. Linda wasn’t sure if it was her question that had shocked him or the hunk of smelly cheese he was sniffing. “Yes, why?”

  “How far back do the archives go?” Linda was already walking towards the exit, grocery cart abandoned.

  “I don’t know,” Scott followed her. “Probably a little before the Civil War. Maybe.”

  “Great,” Linda said. “Could you give me directions?”

  “I’ll do you one better.” Scott grinned, infected by Linda’s sense of purpose. “I’ll take you there.”

  Linda followed in Scott’s wake, her mind whirring with questions, theories, and a lurking fear of the unknown.

  Chapter 15

  Overstuffed and undermanned, the Keystone Library was a hodgepodge of bestsellers, battered paperbacks, seedy romances, and yellowing classics all moldering in a dusty building in the main square. The air was thick with dust motes and smelled faintly like stale bread, and very old coffee.

  A bored young intern pointed out the archive section for Linda, which was even more disorganized than the rest. Nothing was catalogued by year and reel upon reel of microfilm was missing. Dividing the microfilms into halves she bullied a reluctant Scott to scan them with her for any sign of the house or one of the Blackburns.

  Eyes itchy and dry from the dust in the air, Linda was in her element. She pored over Hackridge Herald articles in such fine print it made her temples hurt just from looking at it. She had always been a keen student and had looked forward to a career in academia, but life had other plans for her.

  Flitting through the Keystone Chronicle she stopped suddenly when the name Samuel Blackburn met her eye. She focused the microfilm and began to read.

  Mining Magnet Rebuilds

  June 28th 1869

  The mines along Hill Road have long been the county eyesore, and a hub for miscreants and Irish immigrants. Universally recognized as the product of a neglectful owner, the fate of the mine is set to change. Recently inherited by Samuel Blackburn, the son of the late Richard Blackburn, who feels a stricter approach to running the mine will not only increase production but improve labor conduct.

  ‘Indeed, I have approved the construction of new labor barracks right across from the manor,’ Mr. Blackburn replied to our august reporters’ questions. ‘It is no wonder they act like heathens when the majority of the labor force come from uncivilized un-American societies. It is up to me to teach them how gentlemen behave by keeping a close eye on their activities, and allowing them to observe a gentleman up close.’

  Linda made a face. She could make a mental picture of Samuel Blackburn. She’d met people like him before, making nothing of their micro aggressions and getting deeply offended when called out on their prejudices.

  There wasn’t much more interesting, just an obituary for Samuel Blackburn on the 8th of January 1876.

  We regretfully announce the death of

  SAMUEL BLACKBURN

  Of Keystone, Pennsylvania

  A small service will be held at the Baptist Church, Hackridge

  Linda frowned at the obituary. It was short, barely three lines. It didn’t say how he died or where, nor who had survived him. It didn’t even say anything nice about him either, where usually people waxed lyrical about their loved ones.

  If his small quote is anything to go by he wasn’t a very likable person.

  She flipped the page and saw something else that was peculiar.

  BLACKBURN MINE FOR SALE

  In the heart of Blackwood County

  Samuel Blackburn’s relatives didn’t want to keep the mines. Why?

  She glanced up and saw the time. She gasped. It had been over an hour since she had arrived and she still hadn’t bought any groceries.

  Linda left the archives to find Scott but he was no longer sitting in front of the microfilm machine. A little nervous, Linda walked out on to the main library floor. He was sitting on a desk by the windows; his laptop was open, and his ears were stuffed with earphones.

  Linda bristled with irritation. He had said he’d help her but he was watching a movie instead. Typical. You couldn’t ever rely on the word of a man.

  Linda walked over and stood before him. Scott’s eyes were glazed, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. This was strange because he had been chipper an hour ago. He didn’t seem to notice her. She tapped the desk, and waved her hand before his face to get his attention. He startled and looked at her in a daze, as if he had no idea who she was.

  “Did you look at the microfilm?” Linda asked once he’d removed his earphones.

  “I couldn’t find anything before 1922,” he said shaking his head and wincing. “But there was this really interesting article on the bootlegging business in the Blackburn mines. Nothing specific. No names or anything, just an open letter from a town well-wisher, that type of thing. I think I can find more details in the police files on the operation. I don’t think it’s related-”

  “So you decided to watch a movie,” Linda interrupted him and glanced at the screen but it wasn’t a video at all. There were squiggly lines across the screen and buttons and switches. Linda thought that was very odd since you couldn’t really touch the screen to operate the buttons, but then again the last time she’d been allowed on the computer was in high school.

  “What? No,” clarity was coming back into his eyes. “I was just fiddling with the MP3 of the messages you’ve been receiving.”

  Shame burnt up Linda’s insides. What was wrong with her? Scott didn’t have to help her, he didn’t even have to bring her here but he had been nothing but generous with his time. She felt like a jerk.

  “MP3?” Linda pulled up a chair.

  “They’re digital audio files,” Scott said, rubbing his right eye. It was red around the corners. “I got it from the phone operator since all calls are recorded.”

  “Oh,” Linda didn’t understand a word he was saying but she felt like she owed him the truth after she’d misjudged him so badly. “I’m not very good with the technical stuff so bear with my stupid questions, sorry. Did the files make any sense to you?”

  “Not really, but I did get something.”

  He offered a bud to her, indicating she put it in her ear. The lead was small so it forced her to scoot over closer to him. She could smell his cologne.

  “I was tinkering with the audio, trying to see any pitches we were missing or any words. I played it fast first and then slowed it down. I didn’t get anything at first, but once it slowed I could pick up something that sounded like words. Well, sort of.” He shrugged, frustrated that he couldn’t explain it any better and pressed play.

  Nothing happened at first, but then a low moan began that kept extending on and on. Linda glanced at Scott. He cleared his throat and moved his fingers over a pad on the laptop. The sound rushed in her head, as Scott forwarded the track.

  “It starts from here,” he said.

  Linda didn’t expect much, but when the audio began again she finally understood what Scott meant.

  It was unlike anything she had ever heard, yet so familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on where she’d heard it before. It was a haunting sound, an extended woe that evoked images of green hills under rain-heavy clouds, and sheer cliffs dropping into a choppy sea. There were words, they had a shape and annunciation to them, but she had never heard the language before. She wasn’t even sure if it was a language.

  Linda’s skin crawled, and yet it tugged at her heartstrings.

  She pulled the earbud out of her ear.

  “Strange huh?” Scott said.

  “Hmm,” Linda said.

  It was strange, even more so because she couldn’t fathom what it could have to do with the strange events in the house. The more she dug up, the more confused she got. She had found no answers, only more questions.

  “Can I have a copy of that?” she asked.


  “Erm,” Scott hesitated, seemed to think it over then shrugged. “Sure. I don’t have any USB key on me, I’ll see if Katie at the front desk has any spare CDs I can burn this in. I know, this isn’t very modern, but we’re in quite a small town.”

  “Thanks,” Linda said. “I need to buy groceries.” She got up. “I’ll meet you here after to pick it up.”

  “I need groceries too,” Scott called over his back. “Just wait a minute.”

  He sprinted over to the desk. Katie looked bored, and annoyed at being wrenched away from her phone. She made a face, and got up to retrieve a box from a shelf behind her. Scott thanked her and rushed back.

  “This will only take a minute. We’ll go to the store together,” he said.

  “What are you doing later?” Linda asked. Scott stopped what he was doing and gave her a look that made her stomach plop down into her spine. “I need a ride back home,” she clarified. “I was wondering if you could take me.”

  “Sure.” Without his uniform, Scott Wilson was less intimidating, but his gaze was just as clear and direct as before. Never one for eye contact, Linda couldn’t tear her eyes away. “I can ask Stewart about the calls as well. Just a casual chat.”

  Linda was curious to see how Stewart would react. The calls implied a lot about her employer, none of it good. She was just glad she had decided to leave soon.

  Chapter 16

  Stewart’s car was in the driveway. The afternoon was drawing to a close, the sunlight lingering after a day of choppy cloud cover, but lights were on in the Stewart’s apartment. The other half of the manor was dark. The house looked like the two theater masks made of century old wood planks, but sawn in half and glued together so the happy and sad faces were one.

  Linda shuddered as Scott pulled up to the drive. She got out and hiked the strap of her bag up on her shoulders.