The Haunting of Blackburn Manor

by Blake Croft

  Though the furniture was old, the clothes in the boxes were modern. There were quite a lot of them. There were six boxes in total, all full of women’s clothes. Some were long modest dresses, but most were shorts, neat blouses with pretty prints and skirts in every color of the rainbow. How many women had gone through this house to leave so many clothes behind?

  Linda shuddered and rubbed her arms. It was exceptionally cold up here, even more so than their bathroom.

  She walked slowly towards the windows that looked over the back garden. A small chest of drawers sat below them. Spider webs were festooned all over the drawer, choked with dust. Linda couldn’t see anyone in the attic but the pressure was building in the center of her shoulder blades.

  She glanced back, but there was still no one there. Linda removed her glasses with shaking fingers. Her vision blurred instantly. Breathing heavily, she bit her lip to stop from screaming and cleaned her glasses vigorously.

  A sudden skittering made her jump.

  She jammed her glasses back on her nose, eyes wide and staring at the source of the noise. It had come from the side of the attic that looked onto the back garden.

  There was a handprint on the grimy glass exactly where she had seen the figure.

  She drew closer to the chest of drawers sitting directly beneath it.

  The chest of drawers shuddered.

  Linda cried out, jumped back, lost her balance and fell.

  Something was squeaking and squealing behind it as if trapped.

  Hands shaking, throat as dry as a bone, Linda held the chest of drawers and pulled them a little towards her.

  A rat skittered from behind the drawer and zipped past her legs. Linda screamed and jumped out of its way. She bumped into the drawer and it skidded so one side protruded away from the wall.

  Something fell and clattered dully against the floor behind it.

  Drenched in cold sweat Linda peered cautiously around the drawer.

  A square black phone lay on the dusty floor, screen side up.

  Linda stared at it.

  It was too modern to be part of any of the furniture or knickknack up in the attic.

  Why would someone leave their phone up here?

  Linda picked it up.

  She hissed and dropped it.

  It was ice cold.

  Flexing her fingers and frowning in concentration, she picked it up again and transferred it into her back pocket to examine later.

  The oppression that had been building up around her became too much. She turned to run, but her vision doubled. She felt great pressure behind her neck as if a hand was pressing down trying to lever her head open and enter her skull.

  The room changed before her eyes. Sunshine flitted across the floor but she could see the clouds outside as well. The feeling that someone was stalking her grew until she was shaking like a leaf.

  Screaming Linda held her head, and shook it to get the feeling away. The pressure lifted but only just. Linda didn’t wait for it to go bad again.

  She tried her best not to run down the stairs but it was impossible not to do so. She closed the door behind her with a quick snap, breathing heavily against the fear that still clawed at the back of her spine.

  Down the main stairs she went, mind racing over what had just happened. What had that feeling been? When she had gone into the attic, she had been aware that someone might be in there. But the feeling she had gotten when the pressure had built on her neck was unlike any fear she had known.

  The phone offered its own implications to the haunting. It wasn’t the miners; they didn’t have access to this kind of technology. Whose was it? Had it belonged to Shannon? Tara? Or to another guest or employee? And why was it in the Blackburn attic?

  She reached the lower landing and glanced quickly to see if Evelyn had heard her screams up in the attic. Evelyn’s eyes were closed and her breathing was regular. She sent up a prayer of thanks and walked into the kitchen where she stopped dead.

  Dirt streaked the linoleum floor.

  Oh no. If Stewart sees this, he’ll know I was poking around!

  Scrambling to the closet in the kitchen, Linda went looking for cleaning supplies. The door jammed and wouldn’t come loose. Linda grunted, but the door was closed as if something was forcing it closed.

  Linda stepped back. Her breathing was heavy, but calm was stealing over her. Something was playing games.

  She tried the door again. This time it opened at her touch.

  There were no cleaning supplies in the closet. Linda had found the basement instead. The dirt seemed to follow her because there were muddy stains on the stairs going all the way down to the basement floor.

  They weren’t her muddy tracks.

  Chapter 29

  The smell of rich earth was oppressive.

  It washed over Linda in waves of cold as she tried to navigate the stairs, as if she were walking into an industrial size freezer. Painful goosebumps broke out all over her skin. She knew that she shouldn’t be doing this alone, that this was risky. If Stewart came home right now she’d have a lot to explain, but she had to know what was down there. It was like a strange magnetic pull; no matter how much she tried to resist, she was incapable of stopping her limbs from going forward, like the bizarre dreams she’d been having.

  Though polished on the outside, the inside of the basement door was dusty, and the ceiling was lined with cobwebs.

  Spiders and cold spots; just like the chest up in the attic. There was a manifestation here too; but how many were there in this house? Was it possible she was dealing with a cluster of ghosts? That thought made her feel defeated.

  Her hands patted the wall on her right to find a light switch, panic crawling over her insides. She was half way down when she finally felt the telltale ridge of plastic and flipped it down.

  Corrosive orange light scorched her retinas. She winced, shutting them against the assault, but a bright red ball still blazed, like the light was imprinted on the inside of her eyelid, an echo of trauma.

  Blinking them open slowly, Linda looked around her.

  The basement windows were boarded shut.

  The ugly yellow wallpaper dotted with grey flowers was peeling off in places. It was much larger than the basement in the other apartment and messier still. Unlike the abandoned attic, this place looked like it had been visited often but Linda couldn’t see why. There was no washing machine or ironing board, nor any other piece of furniture to show the rooms purpose.

  When she looked over the banister, she saw something that made her toes curl in their shoes.

  Dirt was everywhere. It was piled up against the wall and scattered all over the floor with bits of broken wood. The way the mess was spread away from the dark crevice underneath the stairs it looked like the darkness had vomited it all out in a fit of fury.

  The sense of the bizarre was stronger here than it had been in the other basement. Where she had felt acute unease in the other basement, she had been able to go down and get a few things done in the bad lighting.

  This was different. The lighting was better, illuminating all the shadowy corners but she felt dread in her bones. She didn’t want to go down, didn’t want to touch the banister lest she fall over. She wanted to get away, but she was too afraid to turn off the light because a certainty was building in her mind that once the room was plunged into darkness, something would come out from beneath the stairs and grab her.

  Linda backtracked up the stairs. She didn’t want to turn her back on this room but she was now sure where the dirt came from and what the room led to; it had turned her blood to ice. Something, some dreaded force, pulled her down, coaxing her to come down and explore the source of the dirt. Linda already knew what was down there. The mine shaft was blocked, but there was an entrance here.

  Linda knew she should go down and find the source but she didn’t want to do it alone. Her hands shook at the thought of it, her breath shook and came out in sputters at the thought of being lost in the dar
k.

  Linda suspected she’d found the entrance she was looking for earlier today.

  Once in the warm kitchen, she snatched a long wooden spoon from the sink and leaned inside the basement door to flip the switch. Cobwebs clung to her hair, and her shirt. She squirmed, sucked in air and bit her teeth down hard to prevent herself from screaming.

  Gripping the doorframe, she leaned forward on tip toe. The edge of the spoon collided with the switch and flipped it up. The basement went pitch black. Linda pulled her arm back so fast she nearly lost her balance. She shut the door as quietly as she could, and placed the spoon back in the sink.

  A low hum had been building up since she had come back up from the basement. Linda wanted to leave immediately but the sound kept her rooted in the middle of the kitchen. Where was it coming from? It sounded like a stifled scream; someone gagged and bound desperate to get her attention.

  What was going on in this house?

  She turned in a slow circle to register where exactly the sound was coming from.

  It came from the living room, from the slightly thrumming body of Evelyn Blackburn.

  Chapter 30

  Noise from the television muffled her moan, but not quite enough to erase it completely.

  Had Evelyn heard her coming in and going about her house? She must be afraid an intruder had entered her house.

  “Dr. Blackburn,” Linda went to sit by her. “It’s just me. I thought I saw something in your attic window so I went to check.” She couldn’t bare the idea of leaving the old woman in distress. Plus, it was highly unlikely Evelyn would be able to tell Stewart she had taken a tour of their wing.

  She walked closer to the old woman. Evelyn’s hair had spilled out of her bun; it was the color of dirty snow and just as wispy. There was a dark stain on Evelyn’s dress and Linda wasn’t sure what it was. The woman stank. Linda wondered when she had last been bathed.

  She placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need anything while I’m here?”

  A clawed hand grabbed hers in a tight grip. Broken yellow nails scratched her skin.

  “Ouch,” Linda cried. “It’s okay, Dr. Blackburn. It’s just me. You don’t have to be scared.”

  Evelyn was still keening in that horrible way, her contorted face was a mask of agony. Her eyes were wet with tears, desperation shone out of them. Her fidgeting fingers jabbed to the TV cabinet.

  Linda looked at the innocuous piece of furniture.

  “Do you need me to change the channel?”

  The moaning rose an octave higher.

  As much as Linda was repulsed by Evelyn Blackburn, she also felt a lot of pity for the woman.

  Linda walked over to the TV. An old rerun of Cheers was on. The laugh track was distracting and grated on her nerves. She was jumpy. Every sound felt too loud. The TV cabinet was a series of small shelves and drawers leaving enough space in the middle for an old box TV.

  There was no remote control.

  Linda opened the drawer directly beneath the TV.

  Her own face stared up at her.

  Time stood still as Linda reached into the drawer and pulled out the pinned documents from the drawer. They were contracts of every employee that had worked at the retreat, and signed disclaimers from guests that had been to the retreat in another folder.

  Hers was at the very top. The small passport sized picture in the corner stood sentry over all her information. Hands shaking Linda went through the papers. There were employees from Tennessee, Texas, and as far as Nevada. Four documents in, Linda met Shannon Dorothy.

  She was just as Grady had described. Blonde, slightly overweight and shy with the hint of a smile on her wide generous mouth. Her eyes were clear cornflower blue and full of doubt and uncertainty.

  Linda touched the picture, tracing the line of Shannon’s jaw.

  What happened to you?

  Evelyn began to moan again.

  Sighing Linda opened a few more drawers to find the remote control but found nothing but broken knickknacks, a few paperclips, old bills, some pens and dead batteries. The last one was too high up for Linda to see within. She had to climb the bottom drawers to be able to peek inside.

  The drawer got stuck after only an inch had opened. Linda struggled with it in her awkward position. “You know, I don’t think this is where it is, Mrs. Blackburn. I’m sorry.”

  Evelyn groaned.

  Linda was about to step down but the drawer suddenly shot out under her hand as if it had been pushed from the other side. She lost her footing and tumbled down on her bottom. The drawer clattered against the floor. Papers rained down on her head.

  “Great!” Linda cried.

  She swiped up pages and cards stuffing them willy nilly in the drawer. A small photo album lay open where it had slid under Evelyn’s wheelchair. Going on hands and knees, cursing under her breath, Linda retrieved the album.

  Evelyn practically cried out.

  It wasn’t a coherent sound but her slack face was more alert, her eyes kept darting to the closed album in Linda’s hand.

  “What?” Linda asked. “Do you want to see the album?”

  Evelyn’s hand tapped her upper arm twice.

  Linda opened the album.

  There were pictures of a chestnut-haired girl who looked slightly familiar to Linda.

  The girl smiled up at the camera. She was sitting in the back garden of Blackburn Manor, the flowers behind her in full bloom. Something glinted in the hollow of her throat but the picture wasn’t clear.

  In another picture, the young woman was at the stove in Stewart’s apartment stirring a steaming pot. Her head was tilted back, and mouth was open in delight. Linda could hear the laughter in her head.

  The last picture was a selfie and taken in Stewart’s bedroom. The girl was sitting up in bed, the sheets covering her breasts. Stewart was sleeping beside her. Her smile was less erratic, more natural, her green eyes didn’t hold the manic glint.

  The implications of that picture rang in Linda’s head like warning cymbals. Because it wasn’t Stewart’s sleeping naked body, or the girl’s obvious post-coital happiness that had caught Linda’s attention. It was the small peridot pendant shaped like a clover at the girl’s throat.

  The same peridot she saw in her nightmares.

  “What is this?” Linda’s voice trembled. She glanced up at Evelyn whose face was wet with tears. “Who is this?”

  Evelyn’s moans were now weepy, like a woman holding back her sobs.

  Linda looked back at the smiling girl. She had never gotten a good look at the face in her dreams but why was she familiar? Placing the album in Evelyn’s lap Linda went back to the drawers and took out the employee contracts. She shuffled through them till she found the girl at the very end of the pile.

  Tara Walsh.

  She was the other girl Linda talked about with Grady.

  She had seen pictures on Facebook but they had been grainy and unclear. No wonder she looked familiar.

  Tara was smiling in her picture, if that’s what you could call it. All her teeth were on display, her cheeks dented with dimples. A mess of rich chestnut hair framed her heart-shaped face but the roots were dark brunette. Tara’s hair was dyed.

  Her eyes were the most striking feature.

  Categorically green they were arresting not for their beauty, but the manic desperation prominent in them. Her contract placed her as a client/employee about ten months ago at Blackburn Manor. “What happened to Tara, Dr. Blackburn?” Linda asked putting the photos back in their sleeve. “Is that what you were trying to tell me?”

  Evelyn moaned and swayed but was incapable of speech. Her face was awash with tears. They settled in her wrinkles and shone under the sunlight.

  “Evelyn, please,” Linda begged. “I need to stop this before it happens to me too. Is it the miners? What did Stewart do?”

  Evelyn stopped moaning. Her eyes grew large in fear.

  Linda stopped talking.

  She’d heard it too.

/>   The sound of an engine coming to a halt in the drive before it was cut out completely.

  A car door opened in the silence and shut a few seconds later.

  Heavy footsteps trudged up the porch steps.

  Stewart Blackburn was home.

  Chapter 31

  Linda froze for a good few seconds till Evelyn groaned; a sharp sound to get her to move.

  Linda scrambled up on her feet as quietly as she could and threw the album in the drawer.

  The footsteps stopped on the top of the porch.

  Linda’s palms were slick with sweat.

  She tried to wedge the drawer back in with arms extended, hitting the wood at odd angles.

  The steps got closer to the door.

  Keys jangled.

  Linda thought about giving up, just throwing the drawer down and running out of the house.

  Snap.

  Click.

  The drawer found the right angle and slid in.

  Keys rattled inside the lock.

  The drawer got stuck half way in.

  The lock turned.

  Linda gave up on closing the drawer completely; she scooted inside the kitchen and hid behind the wall.

  The back door was directly in front of her, but she couldn’t risk coming out of her hiding place.

  “Hello, Mom.” Stewart said cheerfully. “I brought bagels. Too bad you can’t have any.” He laughed.

  Linda placed a hand on her mouth lest he hear her breathing.

  Footsteps came down the hall towards the kitchen.

  “Mmppmm!” Evelyn groused.

  “In a minute,” Stewart snapped. “I’m not your serving boy, Mom.”

  Linda’s heart sank to her knees.

  Evelyn groaned louder.

  “What?” Stewart shouted.

  A sharp screech tore the air and ended on a thud.

  Linda risked a peek. Body shaking from head to toe she leaned forward a little, hands splayed against the wall.

  Stewart had his back to her. He was towering over Evelyn whose wheelchair had been turned to face the kitchen where Linda was hiding. Stewart’s fists were bunched by his side. One hand held a paper bag.