Dark Spirit
By Dana Stephens
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Dana Stephens
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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I didn’t realize it when I closed on my house that rainy morning in October that I had set into motion the most terrifying few days of my life. Do you belief in ghosts, evil spirits? No? I used to be just like you and scoff at other people’s experiences with the paranormal. You may still be a skeptic after you hear my story, but somehow I doubt it.
I turned up the wooded drive to my new home, admiring the brilliant fall colors of the maples and oaks along the way. Still I couldn’t believe my good fortune at finding the old two story Victorian house nestled in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina. It was everything I had ever wanted in a home. Built in the 1800s, it still had all the characteristics of that era with its ornate gingerbread trim and other details particular to that period. It had been, for the most part, kept to its original state. I couldn’t wait to begin refinishing the old woodwork and molding that ran throughout the old place.
Its once elegant rose garden now consisted of dead weeds, except for the rambling rose that wound its way along the partially covered stone footpath, and up the side of a crumbling shed. I wasn’t deterred one little bit. After all, I had high hopes of restoring that garden to its original glory.
Grabbing the two bags of groceries from the passenger seat of my SUV, I carried them through the back door into the kitchen, the screen door slamming shut behind me.
Moe, my cat, was waiting for me. “Meow! Meow!” He cried, rubbing his head against my legs and purring.
I laughed. “I didn’t forget your food.” I filled his bowl to the rim and he dove right in.
A cool breeze suddenly swept through the room and I shivered. Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I could feel the goose bumps on my skin. After all, I thought, it was late October in the mountains. I closed the back door and finished putting my groceries away, not thinking any more about it.
After unpacking a few more cartons, I realized just how exhausted I was and decided to go up to bed. Yawning, I turned off the lights and staggered up the stairs to my bedroom with Moe bouncing along beside me. After a quick shower, I changed into a tee shirt and shorts, my favorite pj’s, and practically crawled into bed. I had just closed my eyes when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Jamie Clark?”
“Yes?” I didn’t recognize the voice.
“I’m Dillon McDaniels, from the real estate office. Susie is out of town and asked me to give you some old photos she found of your property. I could bring them by at ten o’clock tomorrow morning if that’s convenient.”
Susie was the real estate agent whom I had used to buy my house and we had become good friends during the process. I had asked her to look for some photos so I could see how my property had once looked as I had dreams of making it look that way again. I was excited to see what she had found. “Sure, ten o’clock will be fine.”
“Great! See you then. Goodnight, Miss Clark.”
“Thanks, goodnight.” I fell asleep almost as soon as I hung up the phone. Sometime later that night, I was startled out of a sound sleep by a clap of thunder so loud that it shook the entire house. I jumped awake, my heart pounding against my ribs. A flash of lightning zigzagged across the dark sky, lighting up the room. “It’s only a storm, Jamie,” I told myself, switching on the bedside lamp. Sheets of rain and pellets of hail pounded against the roof and the wooden siding of the house. I tossed back the covers and walked over to the window to look outside. It was raining so hard, I couldn’t see a thing. Lighting flashed again and for just an instant, I could have sworn I saw the reflection of a man standing behind me. I screamed and whirled around, finding myself alone in the room, except for Moe, who, until then, had been lying quietly on the bed. He suddenly leapt to his feet, his hair standing on edge, and began yowling. What in the world was going on? I was seeing things, and Moe had gone stark raving mad! The storm must have frightened him. I picked him up. “Its okay, Moe.” He eventually calmed down and I went back to bed. Feeling anxious, I blamed it on the storm, but still decided to leave the lamp on. I fell asleep sometime later, puzzled about what I thought I had seen.
When next I opened my eyes, morning sunlight was spilling across the hardwood floor, making it seem as if the terrible storm the night before had never happened. I sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. Someone knocked at the front door. I looked at the time. Ten o’clock! Mr. McDaniels was downstairs, and I was just getting out of bed! I quickly ran a brush through my hair, and grabbed my lavender robe, tying the sash around my waist as I raced barefoot down the stairs.
I threw open the door, and found myself looking into a pair of the most beautiful brown eyes I'd ever seen. I know women who would kill for eye lashes like his.
He raked his fingers through his dark, collar length hair and smiled, showing a mouth full of perfect teeth, to match his perfectly chiseled features.
“Mr. McDaniels?”
“Please. call me Dillon,” he said, handing me an eight by ten envelope. “Did I get the time wrong, Miss Clark?”
I shook my head. “No, no, I just overslept. Please come in, and call me Jamie.” He walked past me and I got a whiff of his cologne. There’s nothing better than a good smelling man, especially a handsome one, and this fellow fit into both categories. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the masculine scent, and closed the door behind him.”
“I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I just didn’t realize how late it was. I should have set the alarm, but I’m usually an early riser. All the moving must have really drained me. Would you like a cup of coffee? It won’t take me but a minute to make a pot.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Let me take you out to breakfast.”
I was pleasantly surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, I want to. A big plate of southern homemade biscuits smothered in country gravy, with sausage and eggs on the side, sounds pretty good to me on a Saturday morning. What do you say?”
I liked this guy. “It sounds pretty good to me too, if you toss in lots of coffee. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed. Just make yourself at home,” I said, as I raced back upstairs.
Grabbing a pair of jeans out of a packing carton and a white, long sleeved button front shirt from the armoire, I tossed on a little mascara, tossed my hair with a little gel, and took a look in the mirror. “Not bad, Jamie, I said, slipping my feet into a pair of brown leather mules. After dabbing on a bit of my best perfume, I headed back downstairs.
I didn’t see Dillon anywhere. Could he have changed his mind and left? “Dillon?”
“I’m over here,” he said, coming out of the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind, I was just checking out the place.” He suddenly stopped talking and looked me up and down. “Wow! What a transformation! Not that you didn’t look just fine before.” There was a faint glint of humor in his eyes.
“Yeah, right.”
“Ready to go?”
“I will be as soon as I feed my cat.” Dillon followed me into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, watching me as I fed Moe.
“Now, I’m ready,” I said, putting away the bag of food.
I
grabbed the envelope from the table on the way out and slipped it into my handbag. “I want to take a look at these over breakfast.”
It didn’t take but a couple of minutes for us to arrive at the local eatery, The French Broad Café, and have our breakfast served. I bit into a gravy covered biscuit and practically moaned. “This food is delicious.”
He smiled at me, and I noticed how the corners of his brown eyes crinkled when he did. “Glad you like it.” His demeanor suddenly changed. “Jamie, may I ask you something? It's going to sound strange."
“Sure, what is it?” I couldn't imagine what he wanted to ask me.
“Were you crying when you were upstairs?"
“Of course not, why would I've been crying?”
“That’s what I thought.” He put his fork down on the edge of his plate and looked me directly in the eye. “I could have sworn I heard a woman crying. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what I heard.”
I didn’t know what to say. “Could it have been a bird, or insect?”
He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think so, but I could be wrong. That’s why you caught me coming out of the kitchen. I was trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.” He picked up his fork and resumed eating.
I opened the envelope and slid the contents out onto the table. We looked at several pictures showcasing the front of the house and the garden in all of it's past splendor. Then I picked up a photo of a man and young woman. I began to tremble as it slowly sank in as to what I was seeing. I let out a gasp.
“Are you okay? You’re as pale as a ghost!”
I held the photo closer to my face and examined it. “Funny you should mention the word “ghost.” You’re not going to believe me when I tell you what happened to me last night. During the storm I could have sworn I saw a man's reflection behind me in the window of my bedroom. Of course when I turned around, there was no one there except my cat, and he began acting all weird.”
Dillon sat there, his food forgotten for the moment. “I’ve got a feeling there’s more to this story. I can’t believe that both our minds were playing tricks on us.”
“You’re right. I based last night’s incident on an overactive imagination, and a stormy night in an old house. That is until I saw this photo, now I’m not so sure. The man in this picture is the same man I saw behind me in the window, I sure of it. It’s okay if you don’t believe me. It all sounds so farfetched.” I wouldn’t have blamed him at that moment if he had gotten up and left.
Dillon started to say something, but waited until the waitress finished refilling our cups. “I’m one of those people who walk the line between being a skeptic and a believer. You don’t strike me as someone who would just make something like this up. Besides,” he shrugged, “I know what I heard in that house.”
A thought came to mind. “What if my house is haunted? I even feel like an idiot saying that, because I don’t believe in ghosts. I've used all of my savings to purchase that house. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” I was beginning to feel desperation creeping up on me.
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe you saw the photo somewhere else and the man’s features just stuck with you.”
I appreciated him trying to ease my fears, but it wasn’t helping. “I have to find out who this man is and his attachment to the house. Any idea on how I might do that?”
He let go of my hand and picked up a slice of crispy bacon. “I love a good mystery as well as the next guy, and this morning my curiosity is at full mast. I know someone who might be able to give us the information we need.”
“Who?” He said “we” which meant we were going to find out together. My heart sang with delight, and I felt calmer, knowing I wasn’t alone.
“My grandmother, Granny McDaniels,” he said, biting into his bacon.
I held the envelope on my lap as the jeep traveled along the two lane mountain road that wound around the countryside dressed in all of its fall glory. The day had turned out to be a sunny one and Dillon had removed the top before we started. When he had suggested we go and see his grandmother, I was all for it, but now I was beginning to feel silly and wondering if the whole thing was just a figment of my imagination. “Your grandmother will think I’m a nut.”
He chuckled, a smoky sound that caused a warm glow to spread through me. “No, she won’t. First of all, she will love the company. Second, she has the best memory of anybody I know. And third, she could tell you ghost stories all day, and some of them would make your hair stand on end. When I was little, I would beg her to tell me one, and when she did, I’d lay awake half the night with my head under the covers. Of course, she never called them ghosts, she call them haints.”
We turned onto a rutted out dirt road that wound around for about half a mile, before ending in front of a freshly painted white house, its era near that of my own. A large tobacco barn, a chicken coup and other out buildings sat away from the house, leaving no doubt that it had once been a hard working farm. As I opened the door, I heard a rooster crow and chickens clucking nearby. I followed Dillon up on the porch. An elderly woman sat dozing in a white rocker, a throw about her shoulders, and a worn Bible open on her lap.
“Granny?” he whispered beside the woman’s ear.
She stirred and smiled up at him sleepily. Then she spotted me. “Who’s that you got with you, Dillon? She’s as cute as a button.”
He looked around at me a bit shyly. “Granny, this is Jamie, and I actually think she’s cuter than any old button.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled.
She started the rocker to moving. “It’s nice to meet you, Jamie.”
She waved her hand toward the porch swing and I sat down. “Mrs. McDaniels, it’s nice to meet you, too. I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here with your grandson.”
“Well, he’s a good looking boy, I can guess.”
Heat rose in my cheeks, and Dillon came to the rescue. “It’s not what you think, at least not yet. Jamie has some questions to ask you about the house she just bought.”
My pulse quickened, wondering about the implication of what he had said. “Do you mind, Mrs. McDaniels?” I asked, opening the envelope.
“No, of course not. What's that you got there?”
“I was wondering if you could identify the people in this old photo.” I reached it to her.
She studied it for a few moments, and pointed a weathered finger at the young woman. “That is Adalein Sawyer and the man beside her is her husband, William,” she said, handing it back to me with an expression on her face that I couldn’t identify. “You bought the Sawyer place?”
There was something in her tone that gave me pause. “Yes, is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I won’t say, since you’ve got to live there. Anyway, that was a long time ago. Besides, you never know what’s true and what’s not.”
Dillon leaned against the banisters and crossed his arms. “Granny, what’s going on in that head of yours?"
“Boy, sometimes it better to let sleeping dogs lie. That’s all I’ve got to say about it.”
He leaned down and kissed her wrinkled forehead. “Thanks, Granny. We’ve got to go.” He pulled a chocolate bar out of his pocket and handed it to her.”
She took his face between her hands and planted a kiss on his cheek. He took her gnarled hands in his. “I’ll call you later.”
I leaned down and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Mrs. McDaniels, for your help.”
She was already tearing into the chocolate wrapping. “You’re welcome. Make Dillon bring you back, you hear?”
I nodded and got into the car.
Dillon turned the car around and started back down the drive. “I plan to, you know.”
I looked at him, confused. “Plan to what?”
“Bring you back.”
“Oh!”
As we drove back to my house, my previous da
ys excitement at going home had been replaced with a foreboding. Of course, I still loved the house, but what was I to do if it was indeed haunted by the spirits of William Sawyer and his wife? Dillon walked me inside.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to spend the night? “ He held up a hand to silence me. “Somewhere other than your room, of course,” he said, with a grin.
His grin was irresistibly devastating. “You don’t need to do that. If I plan on staying here, I’ve got to work it out for myself.”
He took me by the shoulders. “Jamie, if you need me, call me. Earlier I put my cell number in your phone. I can be here in less than ten minutes; otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled at me in a way that felt as intimate as a kiss.
I stood in the doorway and watched him leave, already feeling alone, yet not alone at all. After giving Moe his dinner, I finished unpacking my pots and pans, and even got my dishes put away in the cupboards before I began yawning. Trying to ignore the nagging feeling that someone was watching me and the prickly feeling on the back of my neck, I tucked Moe under my arm and went upstairs to my room and locked the door behind me. “That’s really dumb, Jamie. Ghosts can walk, float, whatever they do, through walls.” I mumbled to myself. After a quick shower, I got into bed and tried to force myself to fall asleep. For a long time, I lay awake, my heart pounding with every creak of the old house, afraid to even think that it might be more than just settling. Sleep finally came and I slept deeply until after midnight.
I was awakened by as sound, but wasn’t sure what. I raised myself up in bed and listened. Crying! I could hear a woman crying somewhere in the house! My first urge was to scream, but the way I was trembling, I really don’t know if I could have. The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could call Dillon and wait outside in my car for him, which was tempting. Or I could follow the sound to its source. I wasn't certain why, but I chose the second. I gathered my courage and determination, put on my robe and unlocked the door. I looked down the hall. The crying was faint. With my heart pounding, I followed the sound and found myself standing in front of the attic door. All sorts of fearful images ran through my mind as I forced myself to turn that doorknob. Locked! It hadn’t been locked the day before. I pressed my ear to the door and listened to the sound as it grew fainter and fainter until completely disappearing.
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