House of Darkness House of Light

by Andrea Perron

“But that’s not the point, Nance. She doesn’t want that story told at all.” Andrea knew there was no malice implied or intended, so did not chastise a younger sister. She simply told her the truth, as kindly as possible.

  Ed and Lorraine stared blankly at one another as the copious notes ceased and the couple took a break. So many questions clogging their minds, neither of them knew what to ask next. No one had to say so. It welled in their eyes. Carolyn returned with Christine. Subdued, it was obvious the young lady had closed that chapter of the book; she sat down to eat what was left of her cake. Nancy leaned in toward her wounded sibling, issuing a heartfelt apology. Its acceptance was noted with a nod and a hard gulp of cocoa to wash down the knot which had formed in her throat… the subject, off-limits for discussion.

  “My friend Katy has a weejee board!” Nancy needed to deflect attention away from Christine… back to herself. “She brings it here for us to play with and things happen when she does. The spirits talk to us through it. We ask it questions and it answers us in letters and sometimes the board even moves!”

  “What? When did this happen?” Carolyn was alarmed.

  “Ouija board?” Lorraine’s soft disposition became stern, even severe. Her mannerisms became more animated, the pitch of her voice, rising suddenly. “Under no circumstances should a Ouija board be allowed in this house. No Tarot cards. No Ouija board. Nothing connected with the Dark Arts.”

  Everyone was startled by the sudden outburst coming from such a demure woman. Mrs. Warren was as shocked as they were, fearful for them.

  “But it’s just a game.” Nancy was pleading her case, to no avail.

  Lorraine was unwilling to argue the sharp point with a child, focusing the remarks on her mother instead.

  “Carolyn. That is a very dangerous game. Actually, it is not a game at all. Please forbid all of your children from romping in the devil’s playground. It is literally inviting disaster into your home, literally begging for trouble.”

  “I was unaware of this… you all heard Mrs. Warren.” Nods all around; the rather vague, mysterious warning was being heeded. The girls all agreed to comply with her directives, as if they had a choice. None of them understood exactly why such an order had been issued. Mrs. Warren had not explicitly detailed the evils or hazards involved, but she certainly did sound like an authority on the subject and their own mother backed her up, even though Carolyn was confused. She did not know about the Ouija board discreetly hidden from her but she always presumed they were benign. No more playing with fire!

  “Girls. Pay attention to me. This is very important. If something comes to frighten you, even if it comes and you do not see it but you feel something with you, I want you to say: ‘In the name of Jesus Christ, go back to where you came from. Leave us in peace.’ Do you understand? These words will protect you and keep you safe. It will make the spirits leave you alone. Say it again with me. I want all of you to memorize it.”

  The group spoke together as one voice, repeated it twice again, until Mrs. Warren was satisfied it sunk in. Cindy interjected a viewpoint no one had yet to consider, spoken softly, as one would murmur a prayer.

  “That sounds like the voices sound, the ones who tell me about the dead soldiers in the wall. But, what if the spirits are already where they come from?” It was a profound realization from someone so young, haunting in its delivery. Cindy was familiar with a cacophony of sounds as chanted incantations in her head. She recognized a cadence, the syncopation: a lyrical song hidden beneath its fluid words. She believed the spirits were with them all the time, believing that it was where they belonged… or they wouldn’t be there at all because God doesn’t make mistakes.

  “It sounds like praying in church.” April remembered. “When we all talk together and do the cross and say ‘amen’ afterwards.” The littlest one never did quite master the sign of the cross but displayed it for the group anyway, backward. Lorraine laughed, the first time any of them had heard her bright chuckle. She was a serious sort most of the time.

  “It is a prayer, sweetie. It’s something we all call for: Divine Intervention. It’s a way of connecting with God to ask Him for help when we’re scared. If you say those words over and over until what scares you goes away, it will go away, I promise you. These are sacred and powerful words. Carolyn, does your family attend church?” The uncomfortable question was finally posed.

  “No, Lorraine. Not anymore. We’ll talk. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “They don’t want us to go there anymore. Especially the blue-haired lady. She thinks we’re witches or something.” Nancy curled her lip in disgust.

  “Nance, I’d rather not discuss this right now.”

  “Okay, mom. Sorry.” After the mishap with Christine’s story, Nancy was treading more lightly… as if skating on the thinnest of ice!

  “Ladies.” Ed was polite. Such a gentleman. “Would you mind if we went upstairs to look around?”

  At the mere suggestion, panic ensued. Not a single bed was made. It was never a priority but especially not on a sunny Saturday morning with a bed of fresh-fallen snow beckoning instead.

  “Are your rooms presentable?” Carolyn knew the answer. They scattered. It would be a frantic effort but about fifteen minutes later, the call of the wild child came from above. Nancy pressed her face into the open grate between their kitchen ceiling and her bedroom floor, announcing that they were ready to receive guests upstairs. Lesson learned: clean before the company arrives!

  Ed and Lorraine were accompanied by Carolyn, heading up the steep and narrow stairwell beyond the cellar door in the front hallway. The children at the other end of the house were grateful. The choice made had bought them a little more time to tidy up their end of things.

  “I beg your pardon in advance.” Carolyn was only half kidding them.

  “This is our bedroom.” Nancy welcomed them, kicking something behind the door as the Warrens entered. “I share it with April. Sorry. She’s a slob.”

  “Don’t blame me! You’re the slob!” April, offended by the comment, did not deserve the bulk of the blame. There was nothing hidden under her bed, just a few toys that liked to be there… it was their home!

  “Your room looks lovely, ladies. That is not why we’re up here, anyway.” Putting an end to any potential disputes Lorraine wandered around the room. Then she shut her eyes for a moment. (Perhaps it was too painful to look!) Ed reassured Carolyn that she was merely sensing the vibration of the room. He stood by the door, waiting patiently for his wife to do whatever it was she was doing. Approaching him quietly Nancy whispered her words so as not to disturb Lorraine’s ongoing investigation spent in consultation with spirits.

  “These are the stairs where the footsteps come up and then they stop right here. Sometimes the door opens by itself but nobody is ever standing there.”

  “Somebody’s there. You just can’t see him.” This was the most April had said since their arrival. Compelled to follow up with the youngest one of the family, Ed began asking questions he hoped she would answer.

  “April, do you see him?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “You know for certain that it’s a man?”

  “Yes. He smells sweaty, like he’s been working hard for a long time.”

  “Is he the only one you see?”

  Averting her eyes, April did not respond to Ed’s question. Nancy snagged the opportune moment to interject another comment, giving April the chance to escape further inquiry, rejoining mom before Ed could delve more deeply. He sensed she had something to hide and he was seeking same… no game.

  “His name is Manny. That’s what I named him. He watches over us and he doesn’t cause any trouble. He’s the ghost I told you about, before. He was here the day we moved in standing behind the hallway door downstairs while Mr. Kenyon and his son were packing up the rest of his stuff. He just stood there and watched everyone. It felt like he was saying goodbye to them but they did not even notice him. I don’t think so, anyway. N
obody said a thing about him being there but I saw him, plain as day. And Cindy did, too and so did Annie, but we saw him disappear and she thought he was real.”

  “What’s in here?” Lorraine approached the chimney closet door.

  “That’s our playroom. It’s really warm, just like the room in the bathroom downstairs. We keep most of our toys in here.” Nancy stood beside the door, presenting the sacred space like a model on a game show would. Before she could do the honors, the door opened. Click. The wrought iron latch lifted as they watched. There was no one on the other side… no one visible, anyway. The door swung open as April raced past her startled sister, rushing toward what would scare most away. As Lorraine entered the closet, April placed herself down on the floor in front of the smallest door to the eaves then sat, pressing up against it, pretending to be engrossed with all the toys scattered around her. It was a confining space, not much room to move, so the group passed through one at a time. No one lingered long. It was April’s impulsive behavior which captured Lorraine’s attention. It did not escape her notice; the girl was hiding something. Carolyn assumed it was their messy pile of toys on the floor but Lorraine knew better. She did not ask for an explanation of her decision to bolt into the closet. Instead, Lorraine moved on into the middle bedroom. It was a long, dark space with a single portal window in the shape of a rectangle tucked in above the eaves, overlooking the back yard.

  Lace curtains filtered waning daylight. Evening came quickly in winter.

  “Carolyn, what’s behind the small doors in there?” Lorraine was referring to the chimney closet, curious about what April guarded so protectively.

  “They lead into the eaves. We use that space for storage… too many toys… too much in this house to keep up with, including the spirits.”

  Carolyn, glancing down at her daughter, tucked discreetly into the corner behind the chimney, wondered why she was acting so oddly, all of a sudden. Following the Warrens into the middle bedroom, while this was discussed, April shuffled a bit uncomfortably in place then shoved herself even closer to the miniature door, partially hidden behind her. Everyone else had passed on, gingerly stepping over the little one as they went. Lorraine looked back, to re-examine this scene, asking April if she’d like to continue on with them, but the reticent child declined. She had better things to do… a secret to keep.

  “Would you like to come along with us?” Lorraine was being solicitous.

  “No, thanks. I’ll play in here.” Smiling sweetly toward the wary woman, Lorraine had a feeling that April felt relieved. Her secret went undiscovered. She was hiding something or protecting someone. Lorraine had a sense of it but did not pursue the line of questioning floating through her mind. Instead, she focused on the next mystery along the path of a journey through the past.

  “This is the wall.” Cindy pointed at what appeared to be an enclosed area of the bedroom offering much in the way of mystery. The far wall had a full window and door, leading into Andrea’s room at the other end of the house, positioned above the parlor. It was an odd keepsake, unaltered over time as a farmhouse grew. Perhaps a former owner had retained it for the extra light it shed in an otherwise tomb-like room. Mrs. Warren closed her eyes again as she sensed her surroundings then spoke directly to the most sensitive one.

  “Cindy, do you think there’s something hidden behind this wall?” As she pressed further, Ed was investigating, too. Inquiring minds. He was equally fascinated, looking everywhere at once, getting his sea legs beneath him as he peered out the masterfully constructed window fit for a captain’s quarters on a mighty ship adrift at sea. The light shifted. They both felt it happen.

  “I know there is… I’ve always known it, even before they told me so.” Lorraine was more than intrigued. She’d joined her husband and touched the wall, closing her eyes. Withdrawing her hand abruptly, she stared intently at Ed but said nothing to him, not aloud. Her process was mysterious to those who witnessed it. She stood silently in the center of the room, motionless, lost in thoughtful reflection for several minutes. “In the name of Jesus Christ go back to where you came from. Leave us in peace.” The words muttering past her lips as a prayer were then repeated several times. It spooked them. Children looked around apprehensively, wondering what or who was in their midst. Everyone, including Ed, went on high alert. Carolyn, equally alarmed, began asking the obvious questions of her houseguest.

  “Lorraine, what is it?” No response. “Do you feel something? Please, tell me. Is someone in here now?” There was desperation in Carolyn’s words.

  “Someone is always here.” The gentlewoman’s voice was heartbreakingly sad. “So many of them… so many.” Lorraine bowed her head in prayer.

  As she did so, the mother of “so many” wondered precisely who Lorraine was praying for within their unholy farmhouse. Carolyn perceived her words as the sympathetic treatment of a supernatural someone harboring malice, an evil intention toward her and the entire family. She remained in staunch opposition to the presence she could not detect but detested, totally adverse to their existence, utterly unsympathetic to their plight. Carolyn could feel only disdain for the intruders and was resentful of Lorraine’s psychic energy being spent on them rather than on behalf of those she had supposedly come to help. As if reading Carolyn’s mind, Lorraine addressed the troubling issue with her immediately in an attempt to resolve it as quickly as it had surfaced.

  “Trapped. Earth-bound souls with no escape. I grieve for them.”

  “I reserve my grief for us.” A comment as quick as it was terse.

  “Carolyn, please do not misunderstand me. Your family is our priority but we can’t help you without helping them, as well. I cannot help but pity these miserable lost souls. We’re here to intervene on their behalf, too. No one will be free until everyone is free.” It was a good point and a good time to amend that old Yankee motto: Live free or die trying!

  “I understand.” It was untrue. She did not comprehend such compassion. It made no sense. They were there to help her family… those who were alive.

  “We’re standing in the core of it. The energy is here and it’s coming from the room below us… from your bedroom, Carolyn.”

  “My bedroom.” The notion instantly struck her. Their home was a portal.

  “Best we move along.” Mrs. Warren stopped at the next doorway, waiting and watching as Andrea organized the surface of her desk. While doing so, a container of pens went for a ride across the room, scattering on the floor. She hadn’t touched it. Retrieving them, Andrea glanced up toward Mrs. Warren, knowing she’d seen what happened. The youngster’s pleading eyes told her story in full… they were not alone. Never alone.

  “It’s all right, dear. My presence does have a tendency to shake them up!” She smiled at the flustered child then entered her bedroom. Steep dormers in all the rooms upstairs, the ceilings were quite low. However, Andrea’s room had a different feel about it. Lorraine paused in the center and took it all in, peering at the farthest door, deeply inset, tucked into the corner between the chimney and the largest of the closet doors leading into the eaves.

  “What’s in there, Andrea?”

  “That’s the borning room. Mr. Kenyon called it that. It’s dark and scary. I don’t go in there anymore. No one does.”

  “That’s where I got stuck in the bubble behind the chimney when Cindy could not get it to open!” Nancy walked right past Lorraine, lifting the latch. “See? It works just fine. Click. But not that day! Something was holding it closed, from the other side. I just know it! When it let go the door hit Cindy in the head. It almost knocked her out! Do you remember me telling you?”

  “Yes, Nancy. I certainly do. Good. You shouldn’t play in there anymore.” Lorraine began to enter the room, stepping back out after only a few seconds. She closed the door. “No one should go into this room. Do you understand?” The children agreed. Lorraine became visibly rigid. She stood perfectly still, closing her eyes again. It was as if she had gone off… elsewhere. T
hen, when she reopened her eyes she remained quite still, appearing to be different than she was just a moment before. Carolyn asked if she was feeling all right and Mrs. Warren responded, anticipating that question. She was fine, so she said, but it was striking how quickly she’d changed. There was an ethereal quality about her, amazing to all the witnesses. Ed seemed unaffected by this sudden shift in his wife’s demeanor, having seen the phenomenon occur before, they suspected, but it was very strange for everybody else present in the bedroom. When she answered Carolyn’s inquiry, it was as if she was doing so from an enormous distance. Then it was over. She was back as fast as she’d departed. Ed approached his wife, taking her hand in his own, a sweet gesture; a warm and comforting touch. He loved her deeply; there is no mistaking true love.

  As she smiled then squeezed his forearm, Lorraine glowed. During their tender exchange, she’d ignited a fire in his eyes. For him, she was The Light.

  “We are all done in here.” As Lorraine began heading down the stairwell, she did so slowly, deliberately stopping several times along that narrow path. Impatient, kids turned around and went on through in the opposite direction, emerging from the kitchen stairwell instead. There they waited for their mom to return with the Warrens while finishing off the cake and cocoa in the pot.

  Lorraine entered the parlor with Carolyn then, stopping abruptly, stared at the hatchet lodged in a stump on the hearthstone. As the newest fixture in the room, Carolyn had recently moved it into the house so she would not have to splinter kindling out in the cold woodshed, but Lorraine’s reaction to the tool was sudden and severe. Her interpretation of its presence was far more sinister.

  “Dear.” Her tone as sharp as its blade. “It would be advisable to remove this from the premises.” The expression on Mrs. Warren’s face, startling to a nervous mother, revealed apprehension in her heart and worry on her mind.

  “But I use it all the time. It’s where I split my kindling for the fireplace.”

  “Carolyn, get that thing out of your house.” It was not a suggestion. For the first time, Carolyn gazed at a simple hatchet with new eyes, as a potential weapon instead of a tool. She agreed to comply promptly with a direct order. Tucking it away in the summer kitchen, she’d deal with the hatchet later.