Me and My Ghoulfriends

by Rose Pressey

  Mr. Haynes was still sitting quietly in the back seat.

  I looked at him, and he met my gaze.

  Then he said, “I think Brianna is bad news. You should stay away from her. She's nothing but trouble."

  I pulled into the driveway and turned off my car.

  "You know, maybe you should wear clothing that is not so revealing,” Abe stated, still sitting in the back seat.

  I turned to look at him, and opened my mouth to say something, but didn't. Arguing with him wouldn't help. After all, in his day and age women did wear a whole lot more clothing. Besides, I figured my dress kept me just the right amount of concealed. And I knew by that comment Mrs. Williams had been discussing my clothing with him as well.

  "Guys, it's my bedtime. I'm awfully tired and just need to hit the sack. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

  They both nodded, but by the time I opened my front door they were already sitting on my overstuffed living room sofa.

  "I really like this seating you have,” Abe said bouncing on it as he spoke.

  Ugh. I trudged to my bedroom and locked the door. Not that that would keep them out.

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  Chapter 8

  Although I tried to keep positive thoughts, my mind scrambled through an assortment of dark images of what could happen to me. I rarely ever came on an investigation alone anymore. Not after three years ago when I'd been attacked by a dark evil shadow. I had barely made it out of the building with my life.

  That fateful night, while checking out Waverly Hills Sanatorium, an ominous shadow had chased me out of the building and I'd narrowly escaped falling to my death. In a panic, I tumbled down the long tunnel that leads from the abandoned building to the bottom of the hill. (Did I mention that the passageway had been used to remove the dead bodies from the hospital? Talk about creepy.)

  All right maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was scary nonetheless. I contemplated my grim thoughts. I could just see the headlines on the morning paper, Woman Murdered by Ghost. A chill tingled along my spine as I shook the thought out of my head.

  It was about eight a.m. when I set out for Greensburg the next morning. As I pulled out of my driveway, I seriously considered stopping by Full Cup for a quick cup of joe. However, I didn't want to appear to be too eager to see Callahan, so I decided against it.

  His knock-my-socks-off-if-I-had-been-wearing-socks kiss goodnight had been stamped permanently into my head, and I was having a hard time flushing the thought of him from my brain. The sweet taste and sensuous feel of his lips had a tight grip on my mind.

  I knew I'd better stop thinking about him, because I had a long day ahead of me that involved no kissing. Unless some ghost ended up trying to plant one on me, which was possible, by the way; it has been known to happen. Don't ask me how I found that out, though.

  Right around lunchtime I finally found the street where the mansion was located. The road was curvy, and tricky to maneuver along. Exactly where I would expect to find a haunted mansion. Add a full moon and howling wind and it would make the perfect ghostly setting.

  After driving a half mile, I spotted the manor. I recognized it right away, from the pictures I'd seen on the internet. It sat atop a slight hill with many immaculately manicured trees encircling it like a green fence. Maples, oaks, pines and even my favorite, Magnolia trees.

  Manchester Mansion was magnificent; three stories tall, with lots of twists and angles. The place commanded attention as soon as it came into view. As my car rattled over the gravel driveway, I followed the signs to the main entrance.

  I'd called Monica about a half hour before I'd arrived and let her know I was almost there. She had reluctantly agreed to meet me in the driveway at the front door, although she did state that she couldn't bring herself to take me inside for a tour. She would come by to meet me and then leave, and that was all. Her fearful voice had made that message loud and clear.

  That was fine by me, though, because I enjoyed working alone. Even though I knew I shouldn't. When I caught evidence on an investigation if I was alone, I knew it was the real thing, and not just noise from another living person.

  I stepped out of my car, pushed my sunglasses on top of my head and peered up at the huge structure. So far, I wasn't picking up any vibes from the place, good or bad. But that didn't always mean anything.

  I walked around for a couple of minutes checking out the surroundings before I heard a car approaching. Turning around, I watched it slowly make its way up the drive, assuming it would be Monica.

  As the car rolled to a stop I moved a little closer to it. A woman was driving, and from the concerned look splashed across her face, I knew it had to be Monica. She waved warily, and slowly climbed out from behind the wheel.

  "Monica?” I inquired.

  "Yes. Hi, Larue. I'm so glad you made it safely. Did you have any problems on your drive? Or did you have any problems finding the mansion?"

  "No, no problems. Just the typical bad drivers.” I laughed.

  She gave me a half-hearted giggle. I knew she wasn't in the mood for humor right then, though. She must have had one hell of an experience in the place to be so scared that she didn't want to even drive up to the area. I thought about her actions, and realized I probably shouldn't be going in alone, but my partners couldn't make it anyway, and Monica had been so desperate I hadn't had the heart to make her wait.

  "Are you sure you want to go in there alone? What if something happens?” She visibly shuddered as the last sentence came out of her mouth.

  "I'll be fine. I have my rosary beads, cross, bible and holy water. If it's dangerous, trust me, I'll come out of there. I know the top demonologist in the world. If it's really bad, I can give him a call. I won't risk doing anything on my own if it's really unsafe. I can tell you that most of the time ghosts just want attention, although being pushed down the stairs is obviously an extremely aggressive behavior. I promise I'll be fine. Please don't worry about it too much. At least try not to worry. This is what I do.” I smiled, trying to reassure her.

  "All right. You're the expert. Here are the keys.” Monica shrugged and handed me the keys and a piece of paper. “Here's the number for security and, of course, there's always 911.” She laughed nervously. “When do you think you'll be finished?"

  "I'll hang out all day and most of the night. I'll see what happens. Of course, I can't promise I can help you, or make the ghost disappear. I'll try my best, though. It's just that there are no guarantees in this business."

  "Thank you so much, Larue. And good luck.” She quickly jumped back into her car and rushed down the driveway. She wasn't wasting any time in getting out of there. Poor thing.

  I grabbed my bag from the trunk of my car and slowly trudged up the front steps, taking in everything around me on my way to the door. I sat my bag down on the veranda, placed the key in the lock and twisted the knob.

  Pushing the large wooden door open, I felt the air grow heavy as soon as it swung ajar. I grabbed my bag and walked in, pushing the massive door shut behind me. It creaked loudly, announcing the presence of a guest to any spirits lurking in the shadows that might be listening.

  In front of me was a large round table with an oversized floral centerpiece in the middle. It had the biggest roses I'd ever seen, but obviously the flowers weren't real. I placed my bag on the edge of the table as I glanced around the room. A clock ticking was the only noise. Its steady tick-tock echoed throughout the entire first floor. I pulled my camera out of my bag and draped the strap around my neck, then grabbed my temperature gun with one hand and recorder with the other.

  Taking in a deep breath, I decided to start on the top floor first. With another deep sigh, I began to climb the spiral staircase, waiting anxiously for the first appearance of the ghost I'd heard so much about. I wondered if it would even make its presence known.

  There was no guarantee it would come around while I was there, I just had to hope for the best. Most people would pray that a ghost wo
uldn't show up. I, on the other hand, was always wishing they would. Another crazy part of the job was that I had no idea when the ghost would pop out, or if it would push me down the stairs like it had Monica.

  Suddenly, I heard footsteps somewhere above me, possibly coming from the third floor. Something was stirring up there and I would bet it wasn't a mouse. I slithered up the stairs like a cat burglar and rounded the landing into the hallway.

  Clump. Clump. Clump. The footsteps were definitely coming my way.

  My heart rate began to climb as visions of me falling all the way down that spiral staircase flashed into my head. As I started my pursuit down the long hallway I sensed a presence, and glanced to my left.

  There, coming from the door just steps in front of me, was a foggy mist. It swirled and danced in the air, whipping around in a graceful motion. If I hadn't had reports of the spirit being aggressive, I would have sworn the emotion coming from the mist was nothing but serene and peaceful.

  I slowly raised my camera to snap a few pictures, but by then the mist was dissipating. The place became quiet once again. No footsteps could be heard, and the clock ticking downstairs was silenced by distance. Slowly, I made my way through every room on the floor, but nothing else appeared.

  Just as I'd finished checking the rooms, my stomach growled and reminded me I hadn't eaten lunch before I'd arrived at the mansion.

  After my first few investigations, I'd finally wised up and remembered to pack some food to energize me through the long process of helping spirits. I decided to head back downstairs and grab a quick snack. It might be a long time before the spirit manifested again, if it even did. An apparition takes a lot of energy to manifest; it will take this power from any source it can find, like batteries or even me. That's why I was always so drained after an investigation.

  I moved back down the stairs intending to grab my bag from the table where I had left it earlier. When I reached the table, the bag was gone. I set out to search for it, moving through the foyer into the dining room. Scanning the room, I saw my bag was nowhere in sight, so I moved on into the kitchen area. It wasn't there, either.

  I got the distinct feeling someone, or something, was playing games with me. I looped back around the back area of the mansion and ended up in the parlor. My stomach was really grumbling at that point. My bag was not in the parlor, either.

  "I want my bag back. I'm hungry and I don't have time for your games,” I yelled.

  I get grumpy when I'm hungry.

  Something in the foyer fell with a deafening crash. That got my attention. I ran to the room, and discovered my bag lying on the ground beside the table where I'd left it earlier. I had no idea how it had happened, but I knew the bag hadn't been there minutes earlier. I snatched the bag from the floor and ignored the incident. Evidently, someone was just trying to get my attention. I perched on the bottom step of the staircase and pulled out my snacks.

  I'd just taken the first bite from my apple when the footsteps made their presence known again. I sure was getting my workout for the day climbing those stairs. This time the sound of the steps seemed to be coming from the second floor, and they seemed closer. When I reached the landing and faced the second floor hallway, I felt a cold breeze fly through me and my whole body stiffened for a brief instant.

  At that moment, I was dazed and struck by an overwhelming sense of sadness. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure peeking out at me from around the side of a door.

  It was a woman; I could see her from the waist up as she leaned around the side of the door, just as casually as any living human would do. Her face was full of sadness and she was beautiful as she stared inquisitively at me.

  Abruptly, she floated from the door with infinite grace. In one fluid motion, she drifted into the hallway in plain view so I caught a quick glimpse of her. She glided as if she were dancing a cotillion. Her gown draped to the floor, concealing her feet, so I didn't know if they were even there. She was swathed in silk and lace. Her dress was intricate, and she exuded elegance.

  Her expression turned to disdain as she looked at me, before gently lowering her gaze.

  "I'm the lady of the house.” That's all she said, but her words were clear.

  "Hello, my name is Larue."

  Surely, this couldn't be the spirit everyone had been afraid of? She looked like an angel. Then it hit me, maybe the vision in front of me was just a façade and what I was really witnessing was pure evil, a demon in disguise.

  A demon could take on the appearance of what it thinks you will respond positively to. This lady was definitely someone I would respond positively to, she looked so innocent. The woman was still standing and staring at me from the same spot. Under my breath I recited the Lord's Prayer. Better safe than sorry, I figured.

  "I'm here to help you.” I paused. “What's your name?"

  "What are you doing in my house? My husband will be here soon. If he finds you here, he will be furious,” she said as she looked around frantically. She continued. “I was sick, and he went for the doctor, and that was the last time I saw him. It has been a long time, so I know he will be home rather soon now.” She peered around as if hoping to catch sight of him.

  Definitely the hardest part of my job was explaining the situation to the spirits. How did I make clear to her that her husband was not coming back for her? I imagined she must have died before her husband had come back with the doctor, and she'd never realized what had really happened to her. My heart hurt for her.

  My job never got any easier, no matter how many times I did it. Luckily, so far, I was safe from demons. I held my breath that the situation wouldn't soon turn violent and she was who she said she was.

  "When did you last see your husband?"

  She frowned and gave me a confused look. She didn't answer the question.

  I asked again, “When did you last see your husband? Can you remember the date?"

  She lowered her gaze.

  "Your husband is in another place now. He won't be coming back here. I know he's sad without you and wants to see you. Don't you want to go where he is and finally see him again?” Her answer I knew depended on what type of husband he was. Had he left his dirty clothes on the floor? Had he been a slob? Lucky for her, I was pretty sure he hadn't spent all of his Saturday mornings back then at the golf course.

  "No!"

  I was shocked she could raise her voice that loudly.

  "I don't want to leave my home; I know he will come back for me. I will stay here until he returns."

  I nodded my head at her, letting her know I understood. But I couldn't let her continue to believe that.

  "I'm sorry, but he really won't be back, he can't come back here. He is in another place now.” I shifted my feet. “Do remember seeing a very bright light? Maybe you felt drawn to the light?"

  She remained quiet.

  "He is in that light you saw. You can find him there. I promise you'll be all right."

  She walked away from me. Effortlessly, she glided into the room from where she'd peered out at me a few minutes earlier.

  Carefully, I moved toward the room, still praying she wasn't some violent demonic force waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack me. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my rosary beads and held them tightly in my hand.

  The door was closed. The ghost had slid through, no need for her to open it. I'd often wondered why ghosts didn't know they were dead, but accepted their ability to pass through walls, doors, and other things. I'd never gotten an answer. Even Abe was tight-lipped on that one. I figured they'd been sworn to secrecy.

  As I twisted the knob, I held my breath and waited for what was to come. I opened the door slowly, and so far so good, no pushes or punches came at me. My eyes scanning around the room, I saw her sitting on the bed.

  Her head was in her hands and she appeared to be weeping. It was extremely difficult to console a distressed ghost, as I'm sure anyone could imagine. I couldn't exactly embrace her in a comfort
ing hug.

  "Can you tell me your name?"

  She snapped her head up quickly to look at me as if she was angered by my presence. I was there in her home, invading her space and privacy. She gave me an angry glare; she didn't look so innocent at that point.

  "I'm sorry. I'm only here to help you. Please can't you tell me your name? I told you mine."

  Her expression eased somewhat, then she turned her head away and looked at the wall.

  I continued talking to her. I wasn't leaving without exhausting every attempt I could to help her move on.

  "I've heard you have been upset with the people who are in your home. Have you been pushing people? You don't seem like the type of person who would be that aggressive."

  "They don't belong here and I want them to leave. This is my home and my husband will be very angry with them!” she shouted.

  It was going to be very hard, if not impossible for me to convince her. If I couldn't get rid of her, at least maybe I could get her to be nice to the people in the home. And tell her not to bother Monica anymore.

  "You know your husband is very sad you're not with him, and that he hasn't seen you in such a long time."

  That brought more weeping from her, and she held her head in her hands once again. Ugh. It seemed like I just couldn't say the right thing.

  What I did next was the craziest thing I had ever attempted. It was the first time I ever volunteered to have a ghost come home with me. I guess I was just a big pushover. But I felt bad for her, plus I didn't want Monica to be upset any longer. At least that way, I could take my time and work on convincing her to go into the light to join her husband.

  She had been reluctant, of course, but I convinced her I was the key to finding her husband. I promised if I didn't help her, she could come back to her home. To my surprise, she actually said she was happy to have someone to talk to about her predicament.

  I was sure her husband was wondering if she would ever arrive there. No doubt he was sad. It was a good thing none of the spirits needed their own room or I'd have to open my own hotel to accommodate them. Hotel de la Larue.