At the bottom she flicked on the light and looked around. Blood still stained the dirt floor around the bottom of the stairs, a depressing reminder that there was yet another life lost in the house. She set her sights on the attic steps, and jumped, letting out a small shriek, when something touched her arm. It was Olivia. She had somehow managed to tiptoe down the steps after her with Austin and Ben in tow. Ben was carrying the food, and Austin had the Ouija board.
“Figured we could do this shindig in the attic,” Ben stated plainly. “Since, you know, it doesn’t exist and all that.” He made quotation marks with his fingers in the air.
Mariah was sure at this point that Liza had to have known something about this house, she just didn’t want to lose a sale. Why is commission more important to realtors than the safety of the public? She shook her head at the thought, disgusted. Though, if she were being completely honest, Liza had tried to warn her.
They made their way up the dark staircase hidden in the walls. Austin tripped halfway up, skidding on his butt down three or four steps before catching himself. He turned on his phone light to see where he was going. Along the walls leading up, he noticed initials engraved with small mark. It looked to him like someone had been keeping track of time by writing on the walls.
He ran his fingers along the scratch marks, slowly, contemplating the person that had made them. Along some of the steps he could see what looked like dried blood, but it would be impossible to know for sure without forensic testing. Noticing the others were already in the attic, Austin hurried and made his way up the remaining steps. The board was tucked under his arm.
Appearing in the attic, Austin looked around, slowly taking in the room. Ben was sitting on a creepy old bed, one that kind of reminded him of a hospital bed, only with nicer coverings. Mariah was standing next to a girl in a nightgown, blood seeping from her eyes as though she had been stabbed in her tear ducts with a toothpick or a small needle. Austin let out a small cry of shock, and slowly moved into the room.
He was sure the others had to see the girl. Mariah was acting as though it was totally normal for a dead girl to be standing next to her. Maybe she didn’t see her? Olivia turned from the window, looking straight to Austin with pure anger in her eyes.
He was worried, that worry turning to dread as he looked around the room again, this time noticing that Mariah was as pale as a sheet, and though she was standing straight, her breathing was so slow you could count to ten between her breaths. He turned to the bed, his stomach dropping as he saw that Ben wasn’t just sitting on the bed, he was eating red berries.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
1800s |Town of Oakwood
Sophia arrived home just in time for Ophelia to start to walk. She had become so enraged that the doctors decided to admit her for a longer stay and evaluation. According to them, she was cured and perfectly capable of caring for her family once again. They called what she had been afflicted with, pregnancy psychosis.
Not long after her return home, Sophia and Abel were expecting another child. Ophelia was thriving, and all seemed well. The months flew by, the pregnancy going smoothly, the townspeople visiting on occasion, but for the most part people still believed her to be a witch. The latest gossip was that Sophia would slowly drain the children in her house of their youth, in order for herself to stay young and beautiful. Abel of course dispelled the gossip as fast as it sprung up, but women in town still liked to talk.
Once little Oliver was born, Abel was overjoyed. He had a son, a beautiful wife, and wonderfully curious little girl; nothing could go wrong in his world. Sophia once again free from the restraints of pregnancy, began cooking and caring for the family as she always had. She woke early to prepare soups, and pastries for the children and she would send Abel to his office with fruit filled pies. Abel, lacking a sweet tooth, would often give the sweet treats to his workers.
Sophia, being paranoid that things would go wrong if she let her children out of her site, began to keep them with her at all times. She had begun to see Olivette around the property. Knowing it was just a hallucination, she would promptly drink a small glass of whiskey and go about her duties. She had seen Olivette while she was in the hospital as well. The doctors would shock her brain in order to hold the visions at bay. They were back. Sophia was sure this was Olivette’s promise to her years ago to make her pay.
It took a while, but Abel soon realized that he was losing more and more workers to a plague that seemed to have taken up home in the village. People were sick, and dying, but only those that worked in the Mayor’s office. Abel was worried. He sent everyone home and locked down the village, no one in or out until the sickness was gone. One by one, his staff members died, all with the same symptoms as Olivette and Timothy had when they died. The townspeople, knowing what the deaths of the children looked like, as the priest had told them in many sermons, began to blame Sophia for the sickness.
Abel attempted to dispel those rumors as well, but no one else had fallen ill since the village shut down, the only new illness was little Ophelia. She was beginning to look pale, and weakness had taken over her small body. Abel tore through the house, looking for any clue as to what afflicted his small girl, hoping it would leave his son alone. He decided then to spy on his wife, to see if the rumors might be true. Was he in fact married to a witch?
Abel waited until the town was safe to open, and then he told Sophia that he was needed out of town on important business. He retreated to the darkness of the basement to wait. Sophia woke, as normal and began to make food for the day, while the children played outside. Abel watched from the basement stairs; the door slightly cracked as his wife prepared the food.
Sophia made soup and stews over the fire, as she did every day though as she was finishing the vegetables, Abel watched as she threw a small handful of beans into the pots. As she ventured out to check on the children, Abel went to examine the beans. They were ordinary beans. There were however some mixed into the bag that were strange looking to him.
Was she poisoning their family with a weird looking bean? Abel waited as Sophia prepared the tarts for the day. The children, especially Ophelia, loved the berry tarts. The same ones Abel often took to work, and gave his men, who in turn took them home to share with their families. Sophia pulled a stalk of berries from a basket on the counter, they were blackberries. Mixed in were some red berries as well, and Abel recognized them. As a child he was taught what things to eat and what things to stay away from while traveling through the wilderness, and those red berries were poisonous.
Abel threw himself through the door, smashing into a startled Sophia. He ripped the berries from her hands and demanded to know where she had gotten them. Sophia, shaking pointed to the woods.
“Olivette showed them to me years ago, she said they were her father’s favorite but they were bitter so they should be mixed with blackberries to sweeten them up.” Sophia stuttered as she spoke, shaking from fear.
Abel then reached into his wife’s apron pocket and pulled out a small pile of small beans. He inspected them closely. He had learned of them from the natives that lived throughout the wilderness. These beans, while he had never seen them in person, were so poisonous that just three to four beans could kill an adult in minutes. Sophia had been adding one or two of them to the soups for taste at the request of Olivette for years, as well. So, the effects had been diluted.
Abel was livid. He shook Sophia, accusing her of killing all the children, and the townspeople. He accused her of murdering her brother, and his niece.
“How dare you blame my niece!” he growled. “She is dead if you haven’t noticed. You, however, are as healthy as a fat mare.” Abel was enraged.
Sophia, fearing for her life, fell to the floor and slid away from her husband. She ran down the steps of the basement, dropping cooking utensils from her apron into the dirt as she went. Abel followed. He caught Sophia as she attempted to access the staircase to the attic, which had long since been completely sealed of
f.
Sophia screamed, telling Abel that she had no intention of killing anyone, that she simply wanted to boost their bodies natural defenses by cooking for them herself. She argued that Olivette had in fact given her the items first. She simply left them with small notes of kindness on the counter after her nightly ventures. Olivette wanted them in her food as well. Sophia asked Abel to forgive her.
“Olivette would never poison herself,” Abel yelled.
Abel was sickened. He dragged his wife up the steps, through the house and up to the room that he knew she coveted. The room with the cabinet of dolls and the telescope. He threw her inside and locked the door, deciding to deal with her when he calmed himself.
Abel went to the kitchen, took a long swig of whiskey, and went to find his children. His beautiful daughter Ophelia lay on a blanket in the grass, her little brother playing gently with her hair, she looked to be asleep.
As he got closer, Abel saw the berries that he had taken from his wife in the kitchen. Ophelia must have wandered into the kitchen after hearing them yelling and grabbed the berries. Her lips were red, her fingers blue, and she had tears of blood falling down her sweet little cheeks. Oliver sat, playing with his dead sisters’ hair.
Abel vomited at the sight of his daughter, dead. He picked up her small body and carried her to the woods, where he laid her with her other relatives, all murdered by Sophia, the woman that was supposed to care for them. No one need know, he thought.
His sadness quickly turned to vengeance for his brother, niece and now his baby girl. He set little Oliver in his bassinet, and proceeded to the locked room, to deal with Sophia. He entered the room only to find her swinging from the light, her face blue and her neck broken. She had hung herself with the strings of her apron.
Abel took a deep breath, and walked to the telescope, through it he saw the blanket where Ophelia had been with little Oliver. He knew then that Sophia had watched from the window as their daughter died.
Abel took Sophia’s body and threw her into the pond, rocks attached to her legs and watched as she sake to the bottom. In his eyes, she did not deserve to be buried by the children she had murdered.
Going back to the house, he burned whatever he could find of Sophia’s, erasing her from existence. Abel then destroyed all the evidence of his family. He went room to room taking anything that was personal, leaving only furniture and small traces that anyone had ever lived there. When he came to the Library, his office, Abel was torn. Books should never be burned. He instead searched from book spine to book spine looking for anything tied to his family. Albums, journals, or newspapers.
Once he was sure that there was nothing else to destroy, Abel Oakley took his son and disappeared into the night. The townspeople knew nothing about the deaths of Sophia, or Ophelia. They simply knew that the family that resided in Oakley house was forever gone without a trace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Oakley House |1990s
Martin didn’t know why his family held onto this old dump of a house, but the historical society wouldn’t allow him to tear it down, so he had to figure something out. His great grandfather had recently passed from lung cancer and left the house to him with strict instructions on how to care for the house without actually stepping foot into it. He knew from old family stories that his family believed the house was haunted, but he wasn’t going to believe that garbage for one minute.
Ghosts aren’t real, he told himself.
When he was small, his great grandfather told him that Oakley house was a prize that can never be opened, whatever that meant. He knew it was won in a poker game over a hundred years ago. What he didn’t understand was why his grandfather didn’t just fix it up and live in it, or sell it? Hell, why not turn it into a creepy bed and breakfast? A part of Martin knew deep down that he should listen to his family, and simply be a caretaker for the house until he passed it on to his grandkids or great grandkids one day. But the other part of him didn’t see how this house continuing to sit empty would do anyone any good.
The house was outdated, no one had lived in it for over a hundred years. He needed to add some modern things like air conditioning, and update the water pipes, and possibly electrical work. Martin hired a contractor to first add the air conditioning. They assured him that only a few walls would need to be opened and the job should be complete within a week. Martin set the date and work began.
It wasn’t long however that odd things began to happen through the house. The contractors complained about spacing out and not remembering where they were, or why they were there. They had seen several children in the woods around the house, all which seemed to disappear when they went to investigate. Then there was a woman. Only one man had seen her, but he refused to enter the house again after claiming that she had evil in her eyes.
Martin was skeptical. He was sure that there was little truth to their tales and suspected that they were merely feeding on rumors they had heard in town. To prove a point, he moved into the house with his wife and two young daughters.
The air conditioner intact and walls still open, Martin began the electrical work with the help of a local electrician. They worked through the weekdays and took evenings and weekends for themselves. Martin didn’t even notice as his wife began to slowly slip away from him.
Many of the rooms were off limits to the children because they were dusty, and Martin still needed to sort through their contents. Martin’s wife, Abigail, was moving from room to room slowly going through things. A little over a month into living in Oakley house, several projects complete, Abigail mentioned to Martin that the house gave her the creeps. She told him that she felt uneasy, and that the girls often spoke of seeing children in the woods similar to the contractor’s stories.
She wanted to move out. Two days later, Martin discovered Abigail in a room on the third floor. She was dead, hanging by the neck from a belt she often wore around her waist in her summer dresses.
Distressed, Martin took the kids and moved out immediately, leaving Oakley house to rot. He made sure his children never went back telling them the house was horribly infested. When he died many years later, his daughters knew they did not want to hold onto a house that they believed killed their mother. They spoke to the historical society, only to learn they could neither demolish the house due to it being an original Oakley home, nor sell the house in its given state of disarray.
Martin’s youngest daughter, now forty-five years old, turned the house over to her husband, who sold it off as cheap and as fast as he could. There was little known about the property as it was, however, they made sure to clean up any loose ends involving the house. Making sure they had nothing linking their family to the house, they placed sheets on everything and sealed it up until a buyer could be found.
Years passed and the family didn’t even realize the house was still listed, when a young buyer was found. They were shocked. Feeling they should divulge some kind of information to the new buyer, they spoke to the estate agent, who informed them that the buyer was fine not knowing. It was the historical aspect of the home that interested her.
None of the family attended the sale. They all opted to digitally sign the papers in the presence of a notary. They never met the young buyer, Mariah Litback. All they cared about was the fact that once and for all, Oakley house, the family burden since the American Civil War era, and the house that killed their mother, was now someone else’s problem. They were free from the evil residing inside. They had nothing tying them to Oakley any longer. Nothing could possibly go wrong now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Noticing Ben was in a trance-like state, Austin rushed to Ben’s side, tearing the berries from his hands. He watched in horror as his love fell onto his side, convulsing and vomiting all over the small bed. As he was heaving, blood began to ooze from his eyes. Austin held him, as he lay dying, knowing there was nothing he could do. The poison had already done its job. Ben was gone.
Austin screamed a low, ras
py, mournful cry. The moment didn’t seem real. He laid Ben gently back down and turned to the others. Mariah hadn’t moved an inch, not even to get help or try to help Ben in any way. She simply watched Ben die, with no emotion. Austin was angry, he threw himself forward, throwing a small side table through the window. Olivia, having been standing next to the very same window, flew backward straight into the night.
Austin stood in shock, realizing what he had done. He had never felt such hatred in his entire life. He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, only to realize there was no signal in the attic. Looking to Mariah for help, he saw the room completely empty. Mariah was gone, the young girl who had been standing next to her was gone as well. Austin rushed to the steps, the long dark pathway leading straight down to the basement. Once in the basement, he ran up the steps to the kitchen and proceeded out to the yard. He needed to check Olivia and to see if by some chance Mariah had gone outside. He found the yard empty as well.
Turning in circles, Austin panicked. Everyone was disappearing in front of him. He ran back inside, heading for the library. He hastily threw all the pictures and the papers that littered the floor into the empty fireplace. The evidence of what they had been doing in the house needed to go. The last thing he needed was for the cops to come and see that they were all intoxicated and playing ghost hunters when Ben was poisoned by berries and everyone else was gone.
As fast as he could, he ran back to the attic, his lover still on the bed, cold and stiff. Austin paused long enough to kiss Ben on his forehead, then he gathered the Ouija board and any other items that the group had been using to call upon the dead and he booked it back to the library. He had no idea that Sophia, the woman that had been seen throughout the house on so many recent occasions, was slowly following him through the house.
The Secrets of Oakley House Page 13
