by S A Jacobs
I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say. I saw this as my chance to turn and walk away, but I couldn’t. Something drew me in. I took a deep breath and looked at Samuel. He held out his hand as if inviting me to come to him. I stepped out into the open path and began walking towards him. I wanted to run away. I wanted to do anything but approach him, but I had no control. I felt like a fish on a hook. He reeled me closer. I stopped about ten feet away from him.
Now, I could see the men surrounding him. A cold shiver shot through my spine.
“James, I thought you understood that you could not win,” he said. “I really didn’t want to be forced to prove my point.”
He stopped and looked at the other men.
“It is time,” he declared to them.
One by one, they turned and walked off slowly in a single line.
“You completely misunderstand me,” he said. “I am not the monster your mother makes me out to be. Really, I can be quite agreeable. Well, that is, when you do your part. I am not here for the house. I could care less about this useless place. I need that which was taken from me and locked away. So, if you would be so kind to return it, I shall leave you, never to return.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
“Master James, you are hardly in a position to negotiate,” he replied.
“Who said anything about negotiation? What if I refuse?”
“You do have a strong will. Quite an excellent character trait. Although, battlefields are often littered with the bodies of the strong-willed, dying for their cause. I really had hoped you would be more understanding than this.”
He retrieved a long knife from his cloak. It reflected the light into my eyes, blinding me for a moment.
“How far are you willing to go, Master James?” he asked.
“Are you going to kill me? Add my body to your little graveyard in the woods?”
“Please James, if it were only that easy. Those bones back there… well those people were very different from you or I. I’m afraid we are both difficult to truly kill. Besides, what use would you be to me then? Sadly, I do need you. I’ve been waiting many years for you. Only you can bring me what is needed.”
“Well good luck with that!” I yelled as I gave him the middle finger and turned to walk away.
“As you wish, James,” he said. “But you might want to stay for a minute. I would hate for you to miss the show.”
I turned to look and saw the four men laying a body covered in a white sheet upon the bench in front of him. In a grand flourish, Samuel tore the sheet off of the limp body. I went numb. It was Kat, lying there, peacefully sleeping.
Without a thought, I sprinted at Samuel. Within an instant, I was tackled by the cloaked men. They held me down as I fought to get free.
“Fuck you!” I screamed at him.
“There, there Master James,” he said. “This was your choice.”
“What do you want?” I spat.
“You know what I want,” he said. “Now let me begin. You see James, I can be very agreeable. However, when someone fails me, there is nothing left but to spill their blood. Katherine has failed me no differently than you plan to. I will not be stopped. I will not stop with her. I will kill everyone who stands in my way, everyone you care for in the slightest until you give me what I need. Now watch James. Watch what you have done!”
He raised the silver blade above his head with both hands clutching it.
“I hope I have not underestimated you, James, I would hate for you to derive a sick pleasure in the blood.” He brought the blade down thrusting it into Kat’s chest.
I jolted up out of bed, dripping with sweat. My hands were shaking. My head throbbed. It took a few moments to figure out where I was, even when it was. My hands still shaking, I picked up my phone and called Kat.
“Morning baby,” she said as she answered the phone.
“Uh… morning. Are you alright? Uh… I mean, is everything okay?”
“Jim, what’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing, I was just worried about you.”
“I’m fine, but what is there to worry about? What happened?”
“It was nothing, I just had another dream. It just freaked me out a bit. Everything is fine.”
“Don’t worry about me. Everything is great. I just gotta get ready for work. Want me to come over tonight, afterward?”
“Have I ever turned you down?” I replied.
“Mmmm, that’s what I thought. But I gotta run. I love you, babe.”
“I love you too!” I replied as I hung up the phone.
I sat on the edge of the bed trying to collect my thoughts. Dreams of the house had become somewhat frequent, but this one was different. This one didn’t feel like a dream at all. The only reason I could believe that it was a dream was the fact that I woke up in my bed.
I had chosen to stop obsessing about the house in hopes I could approach it from a place of logic instead of emotion. This dream however, made me understand without a doubt that the house would not let me do this. The house and I were connected and now I realized that I couldn’t hide away, I needed to get involved.
Kat and I were having a wonderful time together. Without being obsessed with the house, things between us just became natural. Without my intervention, the renovation at the house was moving forward smoother than ever. The foundation was complete. This meant no one currently at the house knew anything of the bones in the forest. The roof was about half done, and another crew had begun building the custom replacement windows. I had even contracted out to have the electricity and gas done. A week from now, a massive heating system was set to be installed. According to plan, while the house would be far from being done, it would be habitable before Chicago’s chilly winter hit with full force.
The last thing I wanted was to derail the positive momentum because of a dream. But this dream cut through me in a different way. After an hour of replaying it in my head, I decided I needed to talk to someone about it. I picked up my phone and called David.
“Hey bro, where you been?” he answered.
“Hey, David! Listen, I gotta ask you something.”
“Well, I hope you’re gonna ask if we are available to come up there this weekend, ‘cause the answer is yes!” he exclaimed.
“Nah… well, maybe. I just got something else for you. What do you know about dreams?”
“Depends what you’re asking. I mean shit, that is a pretty wide topic. Wanna narrow it down for me a bit?”
“Can spirits overtake one's dreams?” I asked.
“Of course! There are mediums I’ve worked with that can only communicate with spirits in a dream. Actually, dreams, and taking the time to look into them, is where a lot of mediums first realize they have the ability to communicate. But this isn’t a theoretical question, as much as I love those. Is it Jim?”
“Okay, but if spirits can contact a person via dreams, and at the same time dreams can also be a manifestation of something in your head or subconscious or some shit like that… well, how the hell do you tell the difference?”
“I don’t dream. So, I don’t have first-hand experience with this. But from what I’ve learned, most mediums will say that there is something starkly different about these dreams. The feeling, the clarity of it, the emotional pull of it. I know that isn’t really tangible but that is the best I can do on that front. You wanna cut the crap and tell me what you are dreaming?”
“I had another dream with Sam in it,” I confessed.
“See, now that is something else. I mean now, sure, there is a lot in your head with Sam and the history of everything. But, this isn’t your first dream of Sam. You had a dream of him; you also had one of Ida. And if what you are telling me was real, both of those happened long before you knew the story, knew the people. You recognized Ida in a photo, having never seen a picture of her before. Kinda hard for that to be a manifestation of your subconscious. Am I right?”
I told him the dream. M
y mind was focused on the sheer fact that I saw Sam killing Kat. The horror of it. The pain of it. It was like there was brightly flashing warning signs everywhere. Yet, while I told David, he almost bypassed that. He was focused on the details. He zeroed in on the words. What Sam was saying to me. He made me recite them over and over.
“You know there is a lot here, but there is one thing that really sticks out in my head,” he said.
“Yeah, like the fact that I got a warning from some dead asshole that he is going to carve up my girlfriend!” I huffed.
“How did Sam refer to Ida? He didn’t say his wife, that bitch whore, or anything else. He said your mother!”
“Okay, what’s your point?” I grumbled.
“There have been quite a few things that point to… well, refer to anyway, to the idea that you, are in fact, Ida’s child.”
“Well, too bad she was about eighty years too early for that to happen.” I was annoyed.
“No! Listen to me dammit! I am beginning to believe that Ida left this estate to you because she believed you are her son. I mean, I get it. That was forever ago. You have a mom and everything else on this plane. But what if? Just what if, on the spiritual plane, she was right?”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Look, I appreciate all your help, but I’m not sure I can buy into this crap.”
“Look, I am not going to say we understand everything, but hear me out. Just because the idea of reincarnation doesn’t make any sense to you, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. It is a belief held by billions. Generations and generations of people steadfastly believe in it. And you know damn well the minute anyone tries to apply scientific proof to any belief system, they get nowhere. So, who are we to just instantly deny thoughts like that?”
“Seriously? You are too much.” I waved my arm dismissively.
“Actually, if you apply the idea of reincarnation to this, it makes a lot of sense. Provided of course someone, in some way, would be able to predict reincarnation. I think we need to start digging into this concept. See if there is anything we can find out about reincarnation being of interest to Ida. This could answer a lot of questions and help us with the house.”
“How exactly will this help us?” I asked.
“Let's just pretend you are her son reincarnated. Then the spells, the charms, any magic she used, could have been done specifically for you. Meaning, you could be the key to solving all of this and ultimately putting all of this stuff to rest.”
We continued talking for a while and I finally updated David on the crewman who was attacked and subsequently the bones in the forest. Kat had been surprisingly really easy to talk to about that. David, on the other hand, grew increasingly concerned. The conversation ended with an air of real danger. For the first time after talking to David, I felt that something bad was about to happen.
18
After talking to David, I drove out to the house. After that dream I felt a drive to just face the house and everything head on. I didn’t have any plan, aside from appeasing David’s request to go into Ida’s parlor. Outside of that I simply realized that the only way I could accomplish anything was to be present at the house.
I drove up about twenty feet from the front door. The crew was hard at work. I noticed that they were parking off to the left of the house. The front of the house was covered with ladders and scaffolding. I slowly made my way to the makeshift parking lot and parked in a spot deep in the trees. The foreman must have assumed I was there to inspect the work as he quickly came out and greeted me.
He walked me over to a tent he’d set up and started going over the plans and the progress. For the most part, I was uninterested. I just assumed they were doing their job, and really, my visit had nothing to do with their work. Then, something caught my eye. On the desk, were large sheets of the plans for the work being done. Also, there were copied sets of the original plans I’d gotten from the library. One of the originals was slightly peeking out of the pile. The area exposed was the front corner of the second floor of the house. It was the parlor. I pulled the copy out from under the pile and started looking it over.
The plans showed the shape of the parlor as a perfect square. Yet, I knew from being in the room, it was nothing close to a square. It was a long rectangle.
“How accurate are these old plans to what is actually here?” I asked.
“They are as precise as it gets. I’ve found nothing even an inch off from them. We typically don’t use old plans as much of a guide, but these were so accurate that we used them as a base model for our own plans. Of course, with ours, we took precise measurements to adjust them. But there was really little adjustments to be made.”
“Hey, this might sound kinda odd, but have you guys seen anything weird going on here at all?” I asked.
“Aw hell, is this where you tell me there are stories about the place being haunted? I mean I get it. It's an old house. I’ve heard it all before.” He rolled his eyes.
I suddenly felt stupid for asking. Part of me couldn’t help but think this was all made up in my own head.
“Nah, not like that. I uh… well, when they were working on the foundation they had a crew show up supposedly to do the interior. The thing was, I hadn’t hired anyone at that point. They left and all, but still, I don’t know if somebody might be trying to get in,” I covered my embarrassment.
“Ah. No, nothing like that. It’s been as quiet as a work site can be, but I’ll keep my eye out. I’d be surprised though; my boys don’t exactly play well with other crews. So, if someone did show up we’d know it.”
I finished up the conversation, thankful that I hadn’t raised too much concern with the foreman. But now, I had a new mission. I was still going to the parlor, but instead of just going in there to see if I felt anything, I had to figure out this anomaly that I saw in the plans. As I walked into the house, I was thankful that the crews were working on the opposite side of the house. The sound of them working quickly faded away as I walked closer to the parlor.
I approached the door and looked at it. I hadn’t stepped foot inside since I was there with David. A chill went up my spine thinking about the blood red wall I saw that day. I ran my hand across the door frame, discovering new marks. There were even new spots of red paint rubbed off from a pry bar. I took a deep breath and unlocked the door.
The door swung open easily. Much like the first time I walked into the parlor, it was calm and quiet inside. Everything looked like it had that first day. I shut the door and walked over to the chaise lounge and sat down. I closed my eyes and my mind instantly brought me back to that day in the room with Kat. I took a deep breath and could smell the scent of flowers. I was immediately at peace.
I began to think about that day with David. I couldn’t help but question if that was real or just in my head. The room felt so peaceful right then, I couldn’t believe that it had also been so dark and twisted. I stood up and started to walk through the room. Remembering why I was there, I started to pay attention to the size of the room. It was indeed how I remembered it, long and much narrower than the squared size portrayed in the plans.
The window, the door, and the fireplace were all in exactly the right positions, but yet everything was off. Then, I realized the wall along the west side of the room was wrong. It was as if the wall cut the size of the room. That was when it hit me. The room was not inaccurate to the plans. It was just divided. I started to analyze the wall. It was beautifully done. The top half was a light green color with a gorgeous dark wood covering the bottom half. The two sides were separated by an ornate piece of wood trim. I slowly walked along the wall running my hand across that piece of trim.
About five feet from the door, my fingers felt a small gap in the wood. I stepped back to look at it. There was a slight but unusual gap right where the two piece of wood trim met. As I looked at it, I realized that it perfectly aligned to one of the vertical pieces of trim on the green portion of the wall. As my eye followed this vertical line, I
noticed a similar gap in the crown molding where the wall met the ceiling. Below the trim, this imaginary line also lined up with the tiny gap in the wood paneling.
I gasped. “Fuck me sideways! It’s a door!”
I was convinced that I’d found a hidden door. What I didn’t know was how to open it. I spent countless minutes looking at it and working my fingers along the edge, trying to find a way to pry it open. I found nothing. I began to realize there had to be a lock of some sort, but I couldn’t even imagine where. I moved things all over the room, half-expecting to unlock it by moving a book or object. I couldn’t find anything that could be used to unlock the door.
I again sat down on the lounge and was about to give up. Sitting down caused me to look at the wall from a different angle. My eyes were drawn to the centerpiece of trim. The length of the room was adorned with brass flowers every couple of feet. They were not bright or polished but dark and dull with age. I noticed that one fell just about six inches to the right of the door. I walked up and looked at it. It looked like all the others. I pressed it, and it pushed in easily.
There was an audible click, and all of a sudden, the hidden door swung inward a few inches.
I gently pushed the door open. Surprisingly, it opened with ease. I looked over my shoulder, half-expecting to find someone watching me. Satisfied no one was there, I took a step into the dark room. For as warm and inviting as the parlor was, this room was the opposite. The temperature dropped what felt like twenty degrees. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, with just the parlor light coming in. I grabbed my flashlight to get a better look.
While the room was far from an unfinished storage area, it was still stark and cold. It was a small rectangular room. The floor was covered in alternating black and white marble tiles. There were two chairs on either side of a small desk. The walls were black except for a mirror that hung on the one side. The ceiling was black. Aside from the white tiles on the floor, there was just darkness and a feeling of emptiness. The black walls and ceiling gave the illusion of empty space, like there were no walls and ceiling…like the room just went on indefinitely. The desk and chairs looked like they were just floating there in space.
