The House That Jack Built: A Humorous Haunted House Fiasco

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  “Wow!” his father said as he came into the parlor. He smiled a big, toothy grin. “It is starting to come down!”

  “Thanks for the weather report, Dad.”

  “When I left it was still clear, but boy did this storm blow in fast! You should see the roads to the house. I bet they’re all washed out by morning!”

  “You mean, everyone’s going to be stuck here?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Dad said. Grin.

  Nate’s stomach sank. He wondered if it would be rude to force people to stay at Shelby’s.

  The rain was picking up as more thunder rolled outside. Nate heard scraping on the front porch. Adolf scrambled inside like a shotgun blast, clearly on his way to hide in some closet.

  “Bar!” (unintelligible sobbing) “BEEEEE!”

  His father looked more confused than usual. “What’s with all the ruckus?”

  “Oh. Some uninvited guests.”

  “Well, if they’re hungry, I got extras. Everyone’s orders are marked with their name, so anything that doesn’t have magic marker scribbled all over it is fair game. Let me go put this in the back.”

  Dad marched to the kitchen while Nate tried to reassess the situation. Everything was imploding. Here he was, two days away from his Open House, and he was about to lose the tools needed for the finishing touches. His neighbor was passed out on his couch, and his realtor-slash-girlfriend was no doubt trying to wrangle her daughter away from the local crazy lady trying to perform an exorcism on her. His two best friends were upstairs boffing each other, his mom was in the bathtub and probably asleep with a risk of drowning, and now Nate’s dad was in the mix—who, left unchecked by Mom, would most certainly result in something strange. Not good.

  A cough alerted Nate that Dad had returned. He was holding a paperback puzzle book and looking conspiratorial.

  “Son, um …”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, you’re mom’s still taking her bath, and, well, I drank a lot of coffee on the way back from that sandwich place, so I need to take a giant grumper. You mind if I use your bathroom upstairs? Your mom doesn’t like it if I go have a sit-down while she’s in there. You know—too smelly.”

  “Dad. Yes, fine, go. Jeez.”

  “All right!” Dad said, pumping his fist. He went for the stairs holding his hands up like Rocky Balboa. “I’m on the move! Just like my bowels!”

  It was suddenly silent, and Nate was alone in the parlor.

  He looked at Shelby sleeping peacefully on the couch. Nate thought about his friend’s sense of loss now that Tobey had passed, about Shelby’s fear of being alone. The regrets he must have, buried in those life experiences and the choices he had to make along the way. Shelby told him once that when he had first come out of the closet, his family had all but ostracized him—cut him off, refused to acknowledge him. It must have been devastating for a man who was so clearly in need of social connection. What about now? With his partner gone, would Shelby try to reconcile with any remaining family? Was it too late? When Shelby reflected upon the choices he had made, would he be satisfied and proud? Or would he feel regret from the doors he had closed as part of his life’s story arc?

  How does one fully accept the consequences of one’s choices, when it is only at the end of the story that it becomes fully apparent what had to be given up in order to get there?

  Did Rufus ever find peace with a family gone all too soon?

  A single, brief flash of lightning flashed along with a boom of thunder that shook the floorboards. Suddenly all the power went out.

  Nate was plunged into blackness.

  30

  “The end! The end is nigh!” shouted a woman’s voice from somewhere back in the house. Elvira. “It is too late! The rift is opening!”

  Nate groped his way forward and immediately kicked his shins into the couch. “Ow! Shit.”

  Something rustled nearby and Shelby’s slurred voice said, “Wh-what’s going on?”

  “Shelby?”

  “Yes? Nate, is that you?”

  “Yeah. Storm put the power out.”

  “Oh.” The sound of a yawn filled the blackness.

  Nate used the couch to guide his steps. He literally couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. Outside, the splatter of rain competed with rattling windows every time a gust of wind blew through. Nate managed to wobble his way into the dark with his arms outstretched. The side hallway was over here somewhere.

  “Anna!” he said.

  “The end!” was all he heard from down the hall, and a door slammed shut.

  Muffled calls and grumblings were filling the house. From far to his left, behind him and toward the kitchen, Nate heard some kind of slapping and another door open. “Hello?” said a woman’s voice.

  “Yeah, Mom? Hello?” Nate answered back.

  “Hello?” said another man’s voice, also from near the kitchen.

  Who the hell was that? Nate froze, listening.

  “Nate?” his mother said again. Sounds of shuffling. Then a frightened cry.

  “Sorry! Sorry, ma’am! It’s Matt. Didn’t mean to touch you there. I can’t see.”

  “Matt? What happened?” Nate said.

  “The power went out from the storm.”

  “No, dude—what did you do to my mom?”

  “Uh, no comment.”

  Nate shuffled his way to what he thought was the archway to the dining room. “Mom?”

  “Nate?”

  “Are you okay?”

  A pause. “Yes, I think so. Everything is so dark.”

  “Yeah, it is. There aren’t any street lights in the country. Can you come out to where I am in the main parlor?”

  “Okay,” she said, but she clearly sounded out of sorts.

  Matt came to the rescue. “Don’t worry, I got ‘er, Nate.” His voice lowered. “You just stay with me, ma’am, and everything will be just fine.” A thud immediately echoed from the kitchen, followed by the cymbal-crash of a saucepan falling to the floor.

  “What’s going on?” Shelby asked again.

  “I told you, dude. Power went out.”

  “Oh.”

  Another door opened. The sounds of Elvira and Anna arguing quickly drifted into the parlor.

  “Stop it!” Anna said.

  “We need to get out!” Elvira said.

  “You’re scaring the hell out of Des! The dark is bad enough.”

  “But you don’t understand—”

  Nate cleared his throat. “Anna? You all okay?”

  “Just dealing with a little fear mongering!”

  “Oh.” Maybe changing the subject would help. “Did you find the Barbie?”

  A moment of silence.

  “My BARB-EEEEEEEEE!” wailed Des.

  “Nate! Why did you do that?”

  “Sorry.”

  Another rumble of thunder boomed outside. Whatever storm this was, it sounded like a big one.

  “Listen to that wind!” Matt said. Shuffling feet scraped into the parlor. “Guess you’ll get to see why it pays to have a contractor check out your roof.”

  “Yeah, guess so.”

  “I got your mom here.” A woman’s hand was placed gently on Nate’s forearm.

  “Mom, you okay?”

  “Yes. Where’s your father at?”

  Matt interrupted. “Where’s my flashlight at?”

  “He’s—it’s—it’s upstairs.” Nate winced. He had hoped that Matt would overlook the extra tools being used on the second floor and leave them behind.

  “No tellin’ when power’s coming back. I’m gonna go get it. Where upstairs?”

  “Front left bedroom.”

  Matt clomped away.

  It was dark, but Nate’s eyes had adjusted a little and he could now make out shapes. One (Shelby) was sitting on the couch. Another (Mom) was standing next to him. Two others (Elvira, fat, and Anna, skinny) were standing in the hallway and arguing in fierce whispers.

  “Why are you whispering?”
Nate whispered.

  There was a pause.

  “I don’t know,” Anna whispered back.

  “Where’s Des?” Nate asked.

  Another pause. “Oh my God. I lost—Des?”

  A loud thunder crack echoed over the house. Nate jumped. Shelby shot off the couch in alarm and knocked Nate’s mother over backward.

  “Mom!”

  A bunch of steps and thumps rattled upstairs. As Nate bent over to help his mom back up, he caught bits and pieces of another argument.

  “… out!”

  “Didn’t mean to walk in on you like that.”

  “I said, get the fuck out!”

  “Sorry, really,” Matt said. “By the way, is my flashlight in here?”

  “Out!”

  Oh, Nate thought. Brad and Sarah. Oops.

  “Des? Where are you?” Anna was shouting in a loud, panicked voice.

  “Mommy! I’m scared! I want my Barbie and I want to go.”

  “We will, sugar booger. Where are you?”

  “Here!”

  “Where’s here? I can’t see.

  A low, guttural chanting was filling the room. Was Elvira making that noise? Nate wasn’t sure, he was preoccupied pulling Mom back to her feet. Luckily she didn’t weigh very much.

  “Des, I can’t find you.”

  “I’m here!” the little girl said.

  A hand groped Nate’s pant leg.

  “Anna?”

  “You’re not Des,” Anna said. She pulled herself up Nate’s side until she was standing next to him—not that he could see her. It was still pitch black. “Where’s my baby?”

  “Here’s your fucking flashlight!” screamed Brad from upstairs. There was the thud of something being thrown against the wall. Nate guessed it was the flashlight.

  “Thanks!” Matt said again. “Didn’t mean to interrupt! Sorry I stepped on all your clothes!”

  The wind was really howling now. Sheets of rain came down and were pounding the front porch, and the splatter on the roof made a dull roar almost like white noise. Another thunderclap sounded, much closer than the one before. The storm was on top of them.

  “Des! Where are you?”

  Shelby’s voice now added itself to the mix. “Nate? Anna? What’s going on? It’s so dark.”

  “We lost power, Shelby,” Nate said.

  “Did you drink my bourbon?”

  “I—yes, I might have. In fact, I need another one.”

  A flashlight beam played wildly around the room as Matt finally tromped down the grand staircase. “I got it! Don’t worry, everyone, I got it!”

  “What, so now you can finish packing your tools in the dark?” Nate jibed.

  “That hurts, Nate.”

  “Des!” Anna said. “Matt, give me that flashlight. Des!”

  “Mommy!” Des said.

  Elvira’s chanting had grown louder. She sounded like she was speaking Latin.

  “Elvira, can you stop that, please? It’s not helping.”

  “Who’s Elvira?” Nate’s mom asked.

  “She’s a colleague of Anna’s. She’s in the voodoo business.”

  “Voodoo? What do you mean?”

  “She’s been trying to do some sort of exorcism on the house here to rid it of ghosts. Don’t worry, I’m not paying her.” Something bothered Nate about his mom’s question but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  Anna’s voice was turning frantic. “Des, why aren’t you answering me anymore? Matt—please, shine your light around this damn room.”

  “Nate, honey,” Mom said, “do you really think there are ghosts here?” His mom’s grip tightened on his sleeve.

  “No, mom, it’s all nonsense. Don’t worry about it.”

  Matt started sweeping the flashlight around. He shone it on Elvira, who was facing the hallway and had her hands in the air as she intoned her chant. Then he pointed it at the couch and caused Shelby to shield his eyes. Then the light fell on Nate’s mom, who was standing behind the couch in her fuzzy bathrobe. She had facial cream on her face and her hair up in a towel.

  “Des! Where are you?” Anna cried out, and Matt moved the light to her. She looked incredibly worried as she stood next to Nate’s mom.

  Wait a minute.

  Nate frowned. His mom was standing behind the couch. On the other side of Anna?

  Then who was holding his arm?

  As soon as he had finished the thought, Matt’s flashlight beam swept onto Nate. He looked over at the hand clutching his forearm and saw gaunt, bony fingers curled around him like an eagle’s claw. His eyes traced upward, up a ratty old dress sleeve trimmed with rotting lace, past a sunken chest and shoulders, until he finally was looking at the face of the person next to him.

  Only it wasn’t a face. It was a skull, with putrid flesh hanging off and tufts of hair peeking out from a rotting bonnet. A lone eye glared at him from its socket.

  The grip on his arm tightened a little more. And everyone in the parlor contributed to a collective scream.

  31

  Matt dropped the flashlight with a start.

  Shelby thrashed out again and sent Nate’s mom to the floor for a second time.

  “Ow!”

  “What the, who the, who the HELL was that?!” Nate gasped, wrenching his hand away from the ghostly skeleton. He stumbled sideways and fell himself. “Who the hell is that?”

  “You mean, what the hell is that!” Matt said. He tried to focus the flashlight back on the thing, but the batteries sputtered and the beam died.

  Elvira’s voice waded into the fray. “I beseech thee, spirits, to heed my call. Leave this place! Be cast out from the home of the living!”

  A dim, reddish glow straight out of a horror movie filled the parlor and provided an extreme minimum of visibility. The apparition, ghoul, or whateverthefuckitwas had vanished. Nate was trying to get his feet under him but the rain had come in through the open door and made the floor slick. He crawled over to where Shelby had fallen face down.

  “Shelby!”

  “Who hung this carpet on the wall?” he muttered. “No interior design sense.”

  “Shelby!” Nate rolled the old man over to his back. “Did you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “That scary thing, with the skull-face?”

  “Oh. Yes. Terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to hit her, now-now. You really should tell your mother that as great as facial masks are, she shouldn’t—”

  “No! The thing—zombie, ghoul, weird person. Not Mom. Did you see it?”

  Anna was screaming for Des from the other side of the room. “My baby! Where are you, Des? Why don’t you answer?”

  Nate started to crawl around on all fours as a flash of lighting provided a brief moment of visibility. Nate spied the discarded flashlight at the foot of the stairs and made his way over to it. A weak beam of light was facing the wall. When he picked it up, of course, the batteries died.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Nate started shaking the housing, then twisted the end off to check the connections inside.

  “Mommy?” Des said. “You’re not Mommy!” Then a little scream.

  “Des! I can’t find you. Stay still,” said Anna.

  “Anna!” said Nate.

  “Nate!” replied Anna, “I need your help!”

  “Nate!” said Matt, “we have a problem.”

  “Nate!” said his mom, “I can’t get up.”

  “Nate!” laughed a drunken Shelby, just for the heck of it.

  The flashlight sputtered out a weak, intermittent beam. It was better than nothing. He shone it around the room and saw each of the others spread out in different places. He didn’t see Des anywhere, which didn’t make sense because he could hear her wailing.

  “Des, this is Nate. I can’t see you. Are you hiding somewhere?”

  “I’m right here!”

  Matt’s voice rose up. “Nate, we have a big problem.”

  “Not now, Matt. Let me get Des sit
uated.”

  “It better be now, dude, because your house is on fire.”

  Nate paused long enough to look at the corner. Sure enough, the red, hellish glow that had filled the parlor was emanating from flames licking the outside of the window. His porch looked like it had a bonfire underway.

  “What the hell?”

  “You got a fire extinguisher?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah, in the kitchen. Wait here!” Nate jumped up and instantly slammed into a plant, knocking it over and spreading potting soil all over the floorboards. He scrambled past it and trotted through the dining room to the kitchen. The extinguisher was under the sink, right where it was supposed to be. He still heard the splatter of rain from outside. How could his house be on fire if it was raining? Had there been a lightning strike? Or was it something else?

  Another lightning flash delivered a brief instant of daylight from outside, followed almost immediately by a tremendous thunderclap. Nate jumped.

  A woman’s scream filled the house. It sounded like Anna.

  He hurried back to the front. “What is it? Anna?”

  His mom answered instead. “The ghoul! It’s back!”

  Nate waved the flashlight beam around. He saw Matt pull a claw hammer out of his Rubbermaid tote and hold it like a samurai sword. Next to him, near the hallway, Elvira was still chanting. Nate watched in horror as she took a squirrel—where had she gotten a squirrel?—held it over her head, and sliced it open with a fishing knife. Entrails spilled out of its belly onto the floor.

  “Oh, jeez. Elvira, we just cleaned this place. Really?” Nate said.

  Shelby’s voice carried over what was now a confused din. “Nate! The fire!”

  Nate looked over in the corner. The flames had eaten through the windowsill and were now inside the house. Black scorch marks were forming on the yellow paint Shelby had worked so hard to choose at the hardware store. With a yell, Nate charged toward the fire. He aimed the fire extinguisher—only to have nothing happen, he had not removed the locking ring. Nate yanked it out, pointed the extinguisher, squeezed the handle, and immediately obscured all visibility with a giant cloud of smoke.

  “Look out!” someone said.

  “I can’t see!” Nate said, choking on the flame suppressant.