by Various
Was it the wrap-around porch that begged for a bench swing? The turret that screamed library? Or the fact it sat on the edge of the town bordered by woods on five acres? All those things perhaps? Either way, she fell in love with the century home and, unlike her usual self, acted like one of the heroines in her books, buying it on a whim. Her grandmother would have beamed in pride. Go big or go home, her grandma used to say.
This was definitely big! Being the responsible sort, Jenna hadn’t touched her inheritance from her grandmother, a tidy nest egg she’d saved for an emergency despite her ex’s hints he could use a new truck and stereo system. Well, the need for a change was necessary, so, throwing caution to the wind, she used it to pay for the low purchase price on the repossessed home in Strange Dales. Even better, she still had enough socked away to renovate. Between those leftover funds and her writing, she’d live comfortably—alone.
No more dirty socks on the floor or toilet seats up for me. Jenna had sworn off men. They were nothing but trouble, and she’d had enough. From now on, she’d have relationships with the men in her books and in her head. At least they knew how to satisfy her, and when the urge for something to fill her for real became too strong, that was what dildos were for. If you ask me, cuddling is overrated.
Following the voice prompts of the GPS, Jenna made her way through the silent streets of town—eight p.m. and not a thing stirred. She drove through the winding darkness, leaving the dense small town core and hitting the outer burbs where houses were spread out, with perfect green lawns and in some cases, picket fences. Those faded in her rearview mirror as she kept going, the road extending past the last row of streetlights and narrowing to two lanes, bordered by a thick forest. She would have thought herself lost if it weren’t for the flag on her viewscreen. But even then, she had to wonder where it was leading her, and she’d just about decided to turn around when she finally saw the sign for her street. Despite the lack of traffic, she put on her left flasher and turned onto Changeling Drive, a dead-end street with one home at the corner then nothing until she reached the end and her house.
Oh my god, my house!
Excitement gripped her, especially when she caught her first real glimpse of her new home, which, even in the bright beams of her car, possessed an old-fashioned solidity and beauty that made her smile with pleasure.
I’m home.
And that emotion more than anything, surprised her. When was the last time she’d felt such peace and a sense of belonging? She hadn’t even seen the inside, but it didn’t matter. She stepped from her car and stood before the two-story Victorian and smiled.
It’s perfect.
Grasping the key the realtor had Fedexed her, she climbed the front steps. Made of solid wood, they were weathered to a faded gray but showed no sign of rot or weakness. Just as the pictures and video showed, the porch extended all around the front and around the corners. She couldn’t wait to stick some chairs out here, maybe even a table so she could work.
Taking a deep breath, she inserted the key in the lock, her hand trembling slightly. With hardly a sound, the tumbler turned. Time to check out her new home. She almost giggled. This was probably the most exciting thing to happen to her since Dylan, the quarterback of the team, asked her to prom. She opened the door and walked in.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped into the vacant house was the absolute silence, as if the world held its breath as she began the next phase of her single life.
“I’m home!” Why she sang it aloud she couldn’t have said. Was it to make it seem more real? To let the house know it held a new owner? Perhaps to dispel the freakiness of the quiet.
No one replied, of course, but the creepy hush of before seemed to have disappeared, replaced by the more expected hum of a furnace kicking in and blowing warm air, the fall evening this far into October a touch cool.
Noting the beautiful hardwood floors, Jenna elected to kick off her shoes before she began her exploration. As she wandered from room to room, delighted in the period details such as the crown molding and thick wood trim, the sliding pocket doors, and wainscoting in the dining room, she also was amazed at the lack of dust and the general cleanliness of the place.
The realtor had explained the place had been vacant for almost six years, and Jenna had quite frankly expected to have to scrub a layer of grime and cobwebs from the place. Yet, as Jenna walked around, taking in the furniture that still graced the rooms, the braided rag rugs here and there, to the dishes in the cupboards, she marveled at the state everything was in. It seemed as if the home had been frozen in time, kept in stasis as if waiting for the original owners to return.
Not likely. Whoever they were, they had walked away years ago and not a trace of them was ever found. But no bodies found meant living relatives couldn’t inherit the place, and so the house was left empty. And time went by.
The power was shut off for lack of payment, as was the water. It might have stayed in its frozen state forever but for one thing. The mortgage home got in arrears on its property taxes. With no one around to pay for them, they piled up until the town finally foreclosed and took over. The house was auctioned off for back taxes.
What surprised her, was that no one else had scooped the fully furnished place up, especially given its low selling price. The realtor on the phone, when Jenna had questioned, had nervously laughed and said, “No one wants the place because they claim it’s haunted. Silly of course.”
Yes, it was silly, Jenna thought, even if the realtor hadn’t seemed convinced.
Either way, this treasure now belonged to her, every creaky board, settling-on-its-foundations groans, and cold drafts. Their superstition is my gain.
And what a gain! The main floor boasted a large entranceway with a high ceiling to accommodate the oaken staircase which led to a second floor. On one side of it, the house boasted a large living room complete with fireplace and two brown plaid couches.
Walking into the room, she crossed over with quick steps to one of the selling points, the turret area. As a little girl, when she’d dreamed of her perfect house, she’d always imagined it having one, so she was more than a little excited, and it didn’t disappoint.
Stepping into it, she grinned. Set up as a sitting room, it boasted delicate wicker furniture overflowing with flowered cushions and, following the curve of the windows, a bench seat with bookshelves underneath. She couldn’t wait to clear some space and place her own romance novels on them.
Returning to the living room, she went through an archway at the other end and found herself in an immense eat-in kitchen. More space than she’d ever needed in a lifetime. Pale honey-colored cupboards lined half the area in an L-shape. The countertop was ceramic tile, white for the most part, with the occasional motif, one bearing a basket full of goodies, thrown in for good measure. A little too country style for her, but easy enough to fix with some granite or quartz. The kitchen also boasted a gas stove and a huge fridge. She opened it and was surprised it still worked. Bonus. Nestled inside its cold recess was a basket with jars of jam—homemade by the looks of them—and a note that said, “Welcome to your new home”.
How quaint. Jenna couldn’t help but giggle. She’d wondered if, once the neighbors noticed her, whether they’d start showing up with casseroles and pies just like they did in the movies. Jenna bit her lip and tried to stop her snickers. She shouldn’t make fun, even in her own head, of her perceived notion of small-town hospitality. This was what she wanted, and if she was going to fit in, she’d probably have to learn how to make cookies or something so she could thank people in return. And besides, I’m one of them now.
A door in the kitchen led back to the hall, and she explored the second archway on the other side of the staircase, which opened into the dining room. Massive wood furniture graced this space, and a brassy chandelier hung from the ceiling, its many crystal pendants catching the light and refracting. A neat place and one she’d probably never use. Jenna didn’t cook much and never e
ntertained. Who the heck would sit at this table for ten?
Flicking off the light switch, she returned to the hall. A half bath was conveniently located under the staircase and boasted a toilet and a small sink. Perfect for her non-existent guests or the times she didn’t want to run upstairs. Speaking of which, time for the second floor.
Climbing the curved wooden stairs, she ran her hand with appreciation along the gorgeous handrail. Reaching the top, she paused and wondered which door to hit first.
The closest door led into a small room with a daybed and a small nightstand. Boring. Exiting, she proceeded to the next door and opened it to find the bathroom, all tiled in white with a large claw-foot tub. Jenna could imagine herself sitting in it with bubbles to the brim reading a hot romance.
She kept exploring and found a fairly large room with a queen-sized bed and heavy wooden furniture scattered around. A large closet and the view over the front of the house made her think it was the master bedroom, until she checked out the last room.
Nestled above the living room, which meant its space flowed into the turret, the room was definitely the biggest. She let out a cry of delight seeing the gorgeous four-poster bed taking pride of place in the center of the room. Jenna threw herself on the bare mattress, arms out-flung, and shivered because it felt like she’d dived right into an icy cloud.
Rubbing her arms, with a frown she sat up on the mattress. Cold drafts or not, this would be her room, and she couldn’t wait to redecorate it.
Home sweet home.
Chapter Two
With disbelief surely marking his expression, Mark stared at the woman who’d entered their home and wanted to howl with the injustice. Derrick didn’t bother with such restraint and opened his mouth wide to let out a cry of rage.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Mark watched his best friend rampage through the house, his ghostly presence only barely rattling the loose items that decorated it.
Let him have his tantrum. Eventually he’d calm down. In the meantime, Mark shadowed— or was the more correct term, haunted?—the woman, a woman he instantly recognized as his long-awaited mate.
He’d known it from the first moment she’d walked in the house. Even without scenting or touching her, her very presence called to him, and to Derrick too, apparently. It seemed fate had decided that best friends in life, and now in limbo, should share, which was fine with him. He and Derrick had always done things together, from learning to walk, to ride their bikes, to dating sisters and losing their cherry the same night. Destiny took their close bond and did them the ultimate favor to keep them together by choosing one woman who was destined to be theirs. The one who would accept them and love them, bearing them the sons that would continue their line. That is, if they could ever regain their solid bodies again instead of floating around like fucking ghosts.
Shit. The reminder depressed him enough that Mark wanted to go on a tantrum of his own, but he prided himself on having better control.
Mark sat beside a morose Derrick on the wooden step, having learned after many attempts how to do so without sinking through, and watched the woman whose name they had no way of knowing as she made several trips in and out, bringing in boxes and bags.
“We should be helping her,” Derrick noted.
“Yup.” What else could he say? No point in elucidating aloud the wretchedness of their situation, a situation now made torturous.
The mystery woman was perfect, from her short, rounded figure that boasted a plump ass and a nice handful of tits to her long dark hair that tickled the top of her waist. She possessed a face made for smiling with rosebud lips, lustrous brown eyes, and apple cheeks. A woman with real curves, a natural beauty, and hair made for grabbing in the throes of passion. Just the type of woman he and Derrick preferred. A woman they couldn’t touch. All they could do was watch helplessly as she moved into their house, unaided and thankfully alone. What he or Derrick might have done if she’d shown up with a boyfriend or husband in tow, he’d prefer not to think about.
Most of the belongings she left in the front hall, but she lugged one large suitcase upstairs, panting slighting at the weight and exertion. When she came back down, Derrick planted himself in her path, and she strode right through him with no reaction other than a subtle shiver.
“So unfair. I’m going to kill that witch,” Derrick bemoaned their dilemma.
“Uh-huh,” Mark absently replied as he drifted amongst the boxes and bags, peering through her belongings.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Something more useful than crying like a little girl.”
Derrick growled. “I wasn’t crying. I was bitching.”
“And moaning.”
“And you should be too.”
“Maybe later. Right now, I’m—Aha. Here it is.” His search paid off as he located a faded tag on a carry-on bag. “Jenna. Jenna Fairbanks.”
“What?”
“Her name is Jenna.”
“Great. She has a name. That makes me feel so much better,” grumbled Derrick.
Oddly enough, regardless of what Derrick said or thought, Mark actually did feel better. For the moment, their situation hadn’t changed, but with Halloween fast approaching and their true mate now in residence, perhaps the time had come where things would start to happen.
And when she settled down to sleep for the first time in their house, Mark did his best to rush things along.
Chapter Three
Jenna woke in her new house with the oddest sense of not being alone. Senses on alert, she lay on the bed and held her breath, listening. Her trusty baseball bat was tucked between the bed and the nightstand, a single-girl weapon she wasn’t about to give up. Although now that she owned some space and land, perhaps she’d look into getting a dog.
Not one sound seemed out of place. Birds sang outside her window instead of the traffic noise she’d grown used to. Everything seemed fine, and yet the pervading sense of someone watching would not disappear.
Stupid city-girl paranoia. Mentally slapping herself imagining danger where none existed, she got up and stretched. Muscles popped and ached, the exertion of carrying the boxes from her car more manual labor than she was used to. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to drive anywhere today. I’m home.
Jenna set about unpacking the things she’d brought. As part of her fresh new start, she’d left most of her old life behind, selling all her furniture and other items that she didn’t feel like moving. She’d packed her car with clothes, photo albums, her laptop, and the books she couldn’t bear parting with. Oh and food, because her new location meant no more just popping downstairs to grab a bagel or a sandwich when she felt too lazy to shop.
Around noon, she finished putting stuff away and was admittedly even more in love with the house than ever. Her cleaning job was made easier by the fact everything seemed spotless. Clean appearing or not, she still ran a damp rag over counters and dressers, but the lack of dust was nothing short of amazing.
The realtor must have had some cleaners in. I’ll have to thank her. Later though. First, she needed food, something more filling than granola bars and snack cakes. Time to hit the grocery store and stock up. She showered quickly in the claw-foot tub, shivering at the occasional cold draft that seemed determined to caress her body. The chilly whispers across her skin continued as she dressed. I’m really going to need to find out where that cool breeze is coming from. And then she’d stuff it with Mono Foam.
Stepping through a particularly chilly spot at the bottom of the stairs, she grabbed her keys and purse and then headed to town.
In the daylight, the shops looked quaintly old-fashioned with large plate glass window displays, hand-painted signs, and a wide sidewalk running in front of them. Jenna parked with ease. How awesome, she didn’t have to circle the block waiting for someone to pull out first and squeeze in before someone else did. While the grocery store beckoned, her nose led the way, right into the bakery. She practically dro
oled as she entered and inhaled the scent of freshly baked bread.
A red-cheeked matron beamed at her from behind the counter. “Hello, dearie, what are you looking for today?”
Jenna returned the friendly smile. “A loaf of bread and a few buns please. Oh, and do you have any banana muffins?”
“We do.” The woman began wrapping Jenna’s order, chatting as she did. “So are you here on a visit?”
“Not quite. I moved here. I bought a house just out of town.”
The matron regarded her with round eyes and an open mouth. “You bought the house?”
Jenna’s brow crinkled. “If you mean the one on Changeling Drive, then yes.”
The shopkeeper handed Jenna her purchases and with a shake of her head said, “Good luck with that place.”
What an odd statement. Jenna didn’t pay the reaction or statement much mind until she found it echoed in every store she went for supplies. It seemed everyone knew of the house. It was a wonder ominous music didn’t play every time the townsfolk lowered their voice and said it.
At the hardware store, as she paid for several tubes of foam insulation, she asked the cashier, an old fellow, “Why does everyone keep telling me good luck?”
Gray brows rose and beetled together. “’Cause it’s haunted of course.”
“By who?” Because while the realtor had alluded to it, Jenna had never bothered to question. She wasn’t the superstitious type.
“By the two boys who used to own it. Best friends they was. They both disappeared on Halloween Night.”
“How convenient,” was her dry reply.
“Don’t mock me, young lady. Strange things happen around here, especially at certain powerful times of the year.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jenna took her purchases and left the store.
Only when she was driving back to the place did Jenna give in to mirth. Oh, that’s too funny. They all really think the place is haunted. Jenna giggled. How absurd in this day and age that they all seemed to believe in something as archaic as ghosts. Then again, maybe she should thank the fact they mistook drafts and the creaking of an old house settling for otherworld spirits else she wouldn’t have gotten the house so cheaply.
