The Haunting of Blackburn Manor

by Blake Croft

  “Whatever you must do, do it fast,” Grady’s breath hitched.

  “What are you talking about?” Scott became green.

  “We have to bury Ashley before we break the receptacle,” Linda said. Scott stared at her in horror. “I know how that sounds but that’s what the book said. It’s some sort of break from the curse, like the malignant spirit has to remove its hold on the body its possessing once it’s buried or something. I’m not too clear on the why’s only that I need to do it if I have any chance of saving Ashley.”

  “That’s crazy, Linda,” Scott said.

  Annoyed that they were losing time, Linda picked up the broken book from the floor and shifted through the papers that dropped out of the covers till she found the one she needed.

  “Once a manifestation begins,” she read out loud. “It is very hard to control if the receptacle is not identified. The more time that passes between the initiation of a curse and the investigation for its source, the more likely it is that it will never be identified. Unfortunately, it is the only resource that is foolproof in ending a banshee and its curse. The receptacle is anything that the deceased placed great value on, or had emotional attachment to. Once the receptacle is destroyed the manifestation can end.”

  She lowered the tattered remains of the book and looked Scott in the eyes.

  “I know it looks insane, but we didn’t bury Marisa and look what happened to her?” She shifted Ashley off her lap and got up. “If we don’t bury Ashley she will surely have another possession and…” She swallowed a sob as the memory of Marisa came back; her eyes haunted with terror as she warned Linda that ‘she’ was coming back. How lost she sounded. “It won’t be the last possession. This will keep happening again and again. If I bury Ashley, I can save her from the same fate. Her soul might not be trapped like Marisa’s if I can break the receptacle on time. It’s a small chance, but it’s the only one I have. And if I fail to destroy Tara’s receptacle on time, at least Ashley’s soul will rest in peace and won’t be tormented forever.” She paused. “You said there was a wheelbarrow in the tunnel?”

  “Yeah.” Scott still looked like he though Linda had lost a screw or two.

  “Bring it.” She eased Ashley off the stairs. Scott ran back to the tunnel. Linda let Ashley lie at the bottom of the steps and turned to Grady. “Let me see your rib.”

  Grady slapped her hand away. “I’ll live with a broken rib. I won’t survive a malicious entity hell bent on choking me to death. Go now!”

  Rusty wheels echoed down the tunnel. Scott emerged from under the stairs with an ancient wheelbarrow. He came as quickly as he could. Linda helped him lift Ashley up and into the barrow. It was hard with Scott’s broken fingers and Linda’s injured arm. Ashley fell out of their grasp twice, but they finally managed.

  Linda checked Ashley’s jeans pocket and was relieved to find the Polly Pocket in there. She placed it in her own pocket and turned to Scott who was holding his broken fingers like a little boy.

  “Why didn’t you tape your fingers,” Linda complained as she huffed to catch her breath.

  “I thought this would be a routine perimeter check of the house,” he winced at the pain in his fingers. “I didn’t think I’d be locked down here for hours.”

  “I don’t want to leave you behind,” Linda said to Grady. “What if the shadow comes back? Are you sure you can’t walk?”

  “I’ll only slow you down,” Grady waved them off. “Go… I can feel something starting… It’s buzzing in my teeth fillings.”

  Linda didn’t need to be told twice. Holding Ashley’s limp hand, she helped Scott push the wheelbarrow into the black void.

  She prayed they would make it out of there alive, but she knew better than to expect it to happen; not after what had happened to Marisa and what she had read in the book.

  Chapter 40

  It was unnerving how the sound of the storm outside completely cut out when they entered the tunnel. The silence here was predatory. Linda felt like a sheep being led to slaughter.

  “So, it’s true?” Scott murmured. “All this paranormal business.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe. I tried to convince myself otherwise most of my childhood by believing I was suffering from sleep paralysis and hallucinations induced by anxiety,” Linda took the flashlight from him and illuminated the way. “But the events here made me realize I’ve been seeing the departed my whole life. That’s why I got the visions of Shannon’s ghost. I also think that’s one of the factors driving this Thing’s power to such height now, having a conduit that is sensitive to its existence. It was weak with only Shannon to feed on, but when I arrived it grew stronger and fed on Marisa, Stewart, and it’s been feeding off Ashley and me. The phenomenon is getting stronger as we get closer to the nexus of the haunting. See how cold it is?”

  Her breath plumed in front of her. Icicles glistened along the ceiling of the tunnel.

  “The portion of the attic where Shannon was killed and the bathroom beneath it have always been freezing cold, no matter how hot it is outside,” Linda commented, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Faint rustling sounds picked up as they progressed in the tunnel. Linda darted the beam of the flashlight around the black shaft. The path was littered with bits and pieces of broken rock, nails, and even glass where liquor bottles had been smashed.

  Linda watched as a twisted rusty nail twitched slowly as if sensing a magnet nearby. Glass tinkled as shards rubbed against each other. The light beam arced along the ceiling; Linda swallowed as she saw spiders scuttling down the walls or dangling from the ceilings.

  Worms burst their slimy blind heads from the earth, sniffing the air as they approached. The skittering of tiny rodent feet filled the tunnel. Linda was surprised there were so many insects and rodents here despite the supernatural cold. She could imagine sharp teeth clicking. Something brushed close by her feet. Linda screamed and jumped, knocking her glasses off her face.

  Panic clutched at her throat as she bent down to retrieve them, the flashlight hitting her in the face, burning into her cornea. She blinked a few times trying to dislodge the imprint of the bright light from her vision, one hand patting the ground around her, fingers brushing over sharp objects.

  Linda whimpered with fear.

  Her hand slid across something clammy, cold, and coiled up in a tense pile.

  She snatched her hand away. “Snake!” she screamed.

  “Linda watch out!” Scott cried.

  “I can’t watch,” She wanted to scream. “I’m blind without my glasses!”

  She stumbled back and her hands grazed reliable plastic. She snatched the glasses up from the dirt and jammed them on her face, not caring that the lenses were streaked with grime.

  The flashlight was still in her hand. She angled it in front and saw a dusty coil of rope, frayed and tattered at the edges. It was slinking back and forth like a snake trying to wrap around Scott’s boots like a python. With a mighty cry of frustration Scott kicked the rope to the other side of the tunnel.

  Linda was still breathing loudly. Scott was doing the same.

  The objects didn’t stop moving. The phenomenon was only going to get more intense from here on out.

  The surroundings were getting to her. All the confidence and courage that had surged up in her apartment during Stewart’s attack had evaporated.

  “We have to hurry,” she said.

  Ashley’s head lolled from side to side, her hands and feet jerked every time the wheelbarrow encountered a rut in the path.

  No wonder this Thing is so pissed. I would be too if I had to spend all of eternity in this damp hellhole.

  She trained Scott’s flashlight to the ceiling so the whole area would be illuminated. It wasn’t very large. The ceiling was low, nearly brushing Scott’s head who was already bent down to push the wheelbarrow. The sides were only far apart enough to allow two people to walk abreast uncomfortably.

  The sound of trickling water came from all
around them. The ground wasn’t hard packed earth, but powdery, like cold wet sand. Spider webs hung from the walls. Linda wondered how many rats were down here, and she shuddered at the thought.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, the squeaking of the wheels the only sound. The air was thick and stale. The tunnel kept going, but a small opening in the right wall made them stop.

  Linda swallowed audibly and flashed the light within the small opening. It was big enough to allow one person to go through at a time. She exchanged a look with Scott. His face mirrored her own anticipation and dread.

  She approached the opening, clenching her teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. A baleful cold, more intense than any they had experienced in the basement, bathed over them. Linda inhaled sharply, every breath hurt like a knife to her chest.

  “It’s freezing in there,” she murmured. Her body shivered of its own accord, as she hovered outside the notch of darkness. Scott gasped behind her, no doubt just getting the full force of the frigid air.

  Linda lifted the torch up so it would fracture against the ceiling and illuminate a larger area.

  A gasp escaped her blue lips.

  It was an open area. The ceiling was vaulted and high; stalactites ranged across it, like the teeth of some sleeping monster. The light reflected off of the ground up ahead and Linda realized it was a small body of water, a black underground pond.

  The earth at their feet was disturbed. Linda was now used to the uneven nature of the ground but this was much more chaotic. Dirt was piled in places, and dug up in some; there were clear impressions of where the earth had been stacked on top of hidden things. The crosses from the police picture were also there; most erect and somber. One, however, was nearly falling over.

  It was the place from her dreams. She had swum and stared at the ceiling before nearly drowning in that pond; she had choked on dirt in a shallow grave. This was the same mine shaft she had blundered through before being confronted by the mob of miners.

  Linda tried to swallow but her throat was completely dry.

  “This is the place,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but Scott heard her. “This is where the miners were murdered. We’ll find Tara and her necklace with the peridot here.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Scott asked. He picked the wheelbarrow up again and went inside. The flashlight shimmered on the still water, making eerie shapes, giving it the illusion of bodies swimming just beneath the surface.

  “I’ve been seeing this place in my nightmares since I arrived.” Linda’s eyes filled with tears. Overwhelming fear climbed up her back, threatening to jam her throat. “Those were the visions Shannon’s ghost sent to me, but It spoiled them somehow, distorting the truth so I was confused about what was happening and who was the source. Yet, it always started in this place. And Stewart admitted he buried Tara and Shannon here. I think this is where we’ll find them.”

  She walked into the cave, and it was as if a button had been pressed. Strong winds began to roar through the cavern. Silt and rocks came flying at them. Linda covered her head. Scott crouched down by wheelbarrow and lifted his jacket for Linda to hide under.

  “It’s in the water?” Scott asked.

  “No,” Linda pointed to the mounds of earth near the entrance to the tunnel and the crosses standing sentinel over the Irish miners. “She was buried, as was Shannon. We have to find the receptacle and destroy them both at the same time. It will be her necklace. I’m sure of it. She was fond of it, and Stewart confirmed it unwittingly.”

  Scott nodded and set his shoulders. He heaved up a shovel and handed her the crowbar. “So which one is it?”

  Wind and dirt flying made their discussion difficult. They had to shout, and shield their eyes to avoid dirt.

  It was a good question. Where were the bodies buried? Linda was sure Stewart had buried them and not dumped them in the lake. It was much more personal and Stewart seemed like the person who liked to visit his trophies from time to time.

  Linda looked at the graves intently. Which one of the twelve could it be? They had no time or energy to dig up all twelve. And the way the wind was howling, throwing small pieces of stone and glass their way, the monster that reigned here wouldn’t let them.

  How to distinguish between the miners and the new graves?

  Linda pulled out the picture from her back pocket. The edges twitched in the wind but she held them firm. She squinted down at the photocopy, her eyes watering.

  She shielded her eyes from the wind. Earth entered her eyes, her mouth and nose till she felt like her tongue was covered in mud.

  “How many graves are there?” she yelled at Scott, the wind threatening to snatch the words from her mouth and spirit them away.

  “Twelve!” he yelled back.

  Linda counted the ones on the picture and then the ones in the graveyard, and she found the difference. “There are two extra graves at that end of the pool,” she yelled in Scott’s ear. “The crosses are the markers.”

  Scott’s face cleared, and he gave her a thumbs up indicating he understood. He helped drag the wheelbarrow over to the two new graves and began shoveling one grave. Linda shoveled the other with her trowel.

  Bones emerged, wrapped under tattered dirty clothes. Scott made a retching noise as the shovel scraped over bone. Linda shoveled faster till she was looking down at a skull, head adorned with brittle blonde hair.

  She sat back. The wind howled around her, but inside everything had frozen.

  The hair was long and the tattered shirt was pink, with fat cats printed on it.

  She had found Shannon.

  “I think I’ve found Tara,” Scott yelled getting Linda’s attention.

  Linda glanced at his grave and saw he was right. The skeleton was swathed in clothes Linda recognized from the picture she had seen in Stewart’s apartment.

  “We have to bury Ashley first.” Linda’s voice sounded hollow to her own ears, like she was speaking from a great distance.

  The wind howled louder.

  Scott paled considerably in the weak light. “I still think you’re wrong about that.”

  “No.” Linda shook her head vehemently. She didn’t have the time or energy to argue with Scott. “I know what I’m doing. The book detailed resurrection burials to rid the body of the banshee’s influence. It’s a risk, yes, but it’s a risk I must take. You saw what happened to Marisa.” Linda sank to her knees and crawled forward. She then dragged the wheelbarrow closer to the graves. “I’m not going to let Ashley go like that. I have to try.”

  Metal clanged on metal as rusty pipes came hurtling towards them. Linda ducked and Scott side stepped away in time.

  The pipes crashed against the far wall, chipping away rock.

  “We need to hurry up!” Linda screamed, eyes wide with fear.

  Linda stepped away from the wheelbarrow. Ashley’s head lolled at one end, and her legs stuck out the other. Linda pressed a finger on her cold neck. There wasn’t even a suggestion of a heartbeat.

  Seeing her sister like that tore at her.

  Linda went down on her knees and used her shaking hands to dig the grave because she felt the enormity of her guilt by doing it with her hands. Scott joined her in digging.

  Once the grave was shallow enough for a ceremonial burial, Scott and Linda tried to get Ashley inside. Tiny stones flew up in the wind and struck them in the face, scratching their skin until their blood flowed in beads. Struggling, they managed to get Ashley's cold and lifeless body in the grave.

  Linda bit on hysterical sobs of grief, as she brushed her fingers over Ashley’s cold face. She willed herself not to break down crying. Ashley needed her to be strong right now.

  “Linda, are you sure?” Scott sounded queasy.

  Linda’s heart constricted. Either this would work or it would go horribly wrong, and she wasn’t ready for it to go wrong. Nothing had prepared her for the loss of her mother, and now she was standing at the same crossroads and she couldn’t face losi
ng her sister. Ashley was all the family she had left.

  Linda pulled out the Polly Pocket from her pocket. She had been so sure this piece of a happy memory would be used by Ashley to release her once the monster’s receptacle had been destroyed, but how the tables had turned. She placed the toy on top of Ashley’s chest. If Shannon had made sure her phone was retrieved for release, then it only made sense that something Ashley was attached to should be sacrificed as well. The Polly Pocket. This was consistent with what she read in Colin’s diary from Grady’s book. She just hoped there was enough time.

  “We’ll bury her once we have the necklace in our hands,” Linda said and looked up, steeling herself for the final act of rummaging through the graves of two dead girls. Her eyes bulged at the sight before her.

  A soft mist was rising from the pond, grey and evil. The wind seemed to have no effect on it. They were two separate weather phenomena coexisting independently within the same cavern. In their preoccupation, they had missed the creeping fog and the sound of shuffling feet. It was barely audible, but Linda could hear the hum of many voices singing some slow lonesome song.

  “Yes,” she said brushing the dirt from her hands. “We have to hurry.”

  Scott had noticed the mist as well.

  She scrambled back from the grave, holding Scott’s arm to keep her balance. The sounds were getting louder. The icy mist crept around their feet, biting at their ankles. The song soared; the mourning voices were the long dead miners at work in the bowels of the earth. Then the sounds stopped. The wind stilled, cut off as if a switch had been turned off.

  An oppressive silence surrounded them. Scott and Linda stood with their backs to each other, flashlight aimed at the ceiling, eyes darting around the cavern.

  Had the wailing spirit finally retreated?

  Linda took a deep breath to calm her jangling nerves.

  She licked her lips. “I think-”

  A sudden wind whipped through the cavern, nearly knocking Linda off her feet. The flashlight went skittering away by the edge of the cavern where it stopped against the far wall illuminating a jagged edge of rock and nothing else. Scott cursed and had to hold on to the shovel to keep his balance. Earth shifted on the grave, dislodging small stones and pebbles to hit them in the chest and legs.