by Jack Wallen
“It’s her,” Sally whispered. “Mr. Roar-opolus is searching for this young thing here.” Sally pointed to the woman in the dress.
“Oh no,” the woman panicked. “If father finds me, he’ll certainly take my life.” She stood and scrambled about. “I refuse to end on his terms.”
The young woman raised her hands to the ceiling. From high above, a rope gracefully descended. On the end of the rope was tied a noose.
Sally grabbed my hand and squeezed. I nearly laughed as I looked around to see every face in the room frozen with fear.
“Father,” the young woman belted out. “It is for you that I sacrifice my life.”
She grabbed the rope and wrapped the noose around her long, thin neck. Once the knot was tight, she looked out at us and smiled.
“I give my life, so that I may finally know true love. Some consider this an act of folly, whereas others can appreciate the artistic notion of what must be done. It is for him, that I die.”
The young woman’s arm raised and her pale finger pointed directly toward me.
Everyone in the crowd, save myself, gasped and whispered as they stared on.
With a single clap of her hands, she was yanked upward by the rope. The jerk of the line was so fast and so sharp, I was certain the woman’s neck would have been snapped. Instead, she hung from a rope whose end disappeared into nothing…and laughed.
“Why do you deny me death? I beg of you, Father. If you cannot see to it to allow the end of my nightmare, then know I will attempt to take my life, every day, until I succeed.”
With that, the young woman reached up and loosened the knot of the noose. Once the hangman’s rope was wide enough to allow her head slip through, she dropped…about five feet – and then she stopped. Time stood still. I attempted to look around, but my head refused to move.
When my lips tried to speak out, no sound was produced; and yet, the young woman looked down at me (as she continued to hang, frozen, in the air) and smiled. I finally managed to force my lips to move and mouthed:
What is happening?
The woman nodded, closed her eyes, and slowly lowered to the floor. When her bare, delicate feet touched down, she stood in front of me. I could smell the perfumes of her flesh and hair. Not a word was exchanged. She simply stared into me and I into her. Something unsaid, unknown, was passed with the exchange – almost as if, with a simple glance, a graceful and unique seed was planted. She reached up, and with the most delicate touch, placed her fingertip on the end of my nose.
She blinked.
She disappeared.
Sally grabbed my attention.
“Scott, what happened? Is everything okay?”
I had to stop and take a quick, physical inventory.
On the surface, everything was fine. Deep within the recesses of truth, I wasn’t so sure. No haunted house had the budget to pull off such incredible effects.
I grabbed Sally’s hand. “Yeah, everything’s good.”
“Where did the redhead go,” Sally asked.
“Didn’t you see what…just…”
It dawned on me; some maddening notion that the spectacle was there only for those willing to look between the lies and directly into the heart of madness. I was one such spectator. Not only was I willing to accept that reality is, in fact, relative, I had more disbelief to suspend than most.
Sally snapped her fingers inches in front of my nose. “Scott, what’s going on? Are you in there?”
Her voice pulled me from my reverie. I turned to her and could feel my eyes nearly bugging from my head.
“Sally, I need you to…I don’t know how to say this without sounding completely crazy…when we go into the next room, I need you to watch the scene without the pretense of adulthood.”
Sally smiled. “Scott, sometimes I can hardly understand what you’re saying. Dumb it down for me just a bit.”
My brain scrambled for the Cliff’s Notes version of my theory.
“I need you to walk into the next room as if you were a little girl – no bias, no preconceived ideas of what is real and what is fiction. Rewire your mind and heart to believe anything could be possible. Anything at all.”
Sally opened her mouth in what would most likely be a protest. I stopped her before she could utter a word.
“Please, Sally, trust me on this. Just open your eyes and look through them as a child would.”
She nodded.
“You believe in me, right?”
“Completely,” whispered Sally.
The door at the other end of the room suddenly opened. From beyond the doorway, a throaty whisper begged us:
Follow.
We complied. Slowly, carefully, everyone made their way across the room. The noose still hung from nothing. Whenever anyone passed underneath the rope, they would duck or jump to avoid being touched by evil…pure and simple.
The next room was smaller than the Greeting room – and perfectly square. The group packed into the center of the new room and, as soon as the last person walked in, the door creaked shut and the light flashed into darkness. Completely bereft of illumination, the room became impossible to comprehend. Without the ability to judge distance and space, it seemed like the walls were forever away. I could run for days and never lay a finger to a solid surface.
And then, the Gaultier House pulled off a stunt I would never forget.
A light flashed. Trapped within that blink of time I could see the surrounding walls lined with the same masked creatures as before: Grayish-green flesh, yellow eyes, horns, boils, Victorian-era clothing. The light flashed again and the walls were bare. Another flash found the bodies returned – only this time the monsters were replaced by the most beautiful people I have ever laid eyes upon. We were surrounded by visions of perfection – faces and bodies to shame Hollywood and forever silence Victoria’s Secret.
Again, darkness returned. When the light finally flashed to a near blinding intensity, the angelic beauties had been, yet again, replaced by the hideous faces.
The light strobed. The flickering brilliance revealed the surrounding faces switching from hideous to human…hideous to human…hideous to human.
I recalled a trick – a way to cancel out the effect of strobe lighting. It came in handy as a child, when the blinking of such lights inevitably brought bile to my throat. I blinked my eyes in perfect rhythm with the light and caught a glimpse behind the curtain. As the light went black, the surrounding people donned masks. With every other flash of light, they’d be revealed with their masks on. The effect was brilliant – once you understood what was happening. Without that understanding, your brain tricked you into thinking a hideous transformation had occurred. From human to hideous and back again.
A brilliant commentary on the state of society in the country. We are victims of our own perception and nothing more.
Sally grabbed my hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “Oh my God, Scott. Is this incredible or what?”
My blinking fell out of sync with the strobing effect and the lights went completely dark. The screams finally echoed to silence. From within that blanket of quiet, a raspy breathing rose very near to me. A sour smell, almost almond-y in fragrance, drifted up to get caught in my breath.
Without word or warning, the lights flashed back on (this time to stay), to reveal each of the bodies had stepped away from the wall and were standing nose to nose with an audience member. As luck would have it, the hanging redhead stood before me, a glowing white smile gracing her lovely lips. Oddly enough, she wasn’t wearing her mask, so that sickly green flesh was replaced by a flawless, milky-white complexion, with the slightest bit of color on the cheeks. Her eyes were the green of rolling Irish hills.
My heart lunged forward until it nearly broke free from my chest.
The girl smiled and her face melted downward. The perfect skin drooped and finally let go its mortal coil and sloughed off completely to reveal the sickly flesh beneath.
Again, the lights blinked out. When
the room was, once again, visible, the specters were gone. The audience gasped, some even applauded.
“Sally,’” I whispered, “she was right in front of me. Her face…I could see everything. What they did was impossible.”
“Then how did they pull it off,” begged Sally.
“I have no idea, but I intend to find out.”
The remainder of the Gaultier House was as elegant and frightening as the first few encounters. The rooms ranged from morbid to graceful. Throughout, it seemed the redhead angel followed me…made a point to always be at my side when the lights shooed the darkness away. For whatever reason, I found some comfort in her presence. Even the sight of her mask thrilled me. I knew the delight that lay beneath the facade and wanted to dive deep into the pool of her existence.
Whatever it was, she held powerful sway over me.
Sally and I stepped out into the chilled night air. My face felt frozen, not by temperature, but astonishment. Shock and awe flooded my system.
Sally waved a hand in front of my face. “Scott,” she said, “you okay?”
I nodded. I wasn’t ready to speak; there was so much yet to process.
“Come back to me, Spooky.”
A flood of emotion washed through my system. Tension poured from my muscles to drown the brick walkway below me in emotion and stress.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Sally, that was…I can’t…how is it possible that…”
I couldn’t do it; conjure the words necessary to describe what I had just witnessed. In all of my years as a fan of horror and haunts, I had never before experienced such perfection.
There was something else, something drifting in and out of my conscience that I couldn’t explain away…didn’t want to explain away.
“Sally, I have to go through again. I’ll pay for us both. Can you…”
Concern lined Sally’s face. “I’m sorry, Scott. I have so much homework.”
Disappointment threatened to break my spirit. I nearly insisted Sally drive home without me. Surely, I could find a cab or bus home. That scenario would play out with me grounded for thirteen lifetimes. Plus, there was no way I’d lay that kind of guilt on my best friend.
“I understand. Maybe we can come back this weekend?”
Sally smiled. ”I’d love to.”
As we walked away from the Gaultier House, I felt a tug beckon me back. I wanted to give in, turn, and run back into the comfort and wonder of the haunt. I wanted to search out the red-headed angel and fall completely under her spell.
Against the will of my soul, I allowed Sally to drive me home.
seven | discoveries
Babette stood at the hidden exit of the house, the angelic mask hiding her true self from the crowd. She watched the young human boy walk away from the mansion as her heart shattered against her ribcage and fell into the pit of her stomach.
She didn’t hear Timely step up beside her.
“Look at all of them; so utterly devoid of truth,” whispered Timely.
Babette jumped at the sound of her best friend’s voice.
“Oh that’s too rich,” Timely laughed, “I scared you, the great Babette? Wow, this is a banner night.”
“No, you didn’t…okay, maybe a little. But I was preoccupied.”
Timely stared off, in the direction of Babbette’s gaze. “Oh, the human boy. I saw you fawning over him in the house.”
Babbette turned to Timely and placed her hands on her hips. “I did not. No fawning happened. I did no such thing.”
Timely’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped. “You cannot lie to me, Babbett Gaultier. Do not forget who you are speaking to. I know you nearly as well as I know myself. You’re smitten with that human boy…and smitten bad.”
Babbette opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Wow! This is a red-letter day. Not only did I scare you, I rendered you speechless.” Timely danced around Babbette and sang a song in the tongue of ‘Kind. “Too rah ha. De lah pra ha no ja. For keeg zo ti la ja.”
Babbette turned and pointed her finger at Timely. “That is so not true. I did not make a fool of myself because of a silly crush.”
Timely continued to sing. “Mo rey ti zo nee zay.”
“Stop it, Timely,” Babbette insisted. “We aren’t supposed to use the ancient tongue in public. If my father were to hear you…”
“Babbette tor vortilah haha.”
“You’re lucky I am a lady, Timely, and your best friend.”
Timely finally stopped singing and dancing. A grin spread wide across her face. “Admit it, you’ve got it bad for that human boy.”
Babbette gasped. “I will admit no such thing.”
“Babbette, I can see it written all over your face, even through your mask.” Timely tugged at Babbette’s mask. “You have a serious crush on that human boy.”
An awkward silence drifted between the two girls.
“Before you fall too far for him,” Timely pointed toward the human pair, “it looks like he already has a girlfriend.”
“I know,” Babbette sighed.
Timely grabbed Babbette’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Whoa. No, no, no. This is for the best. The second he saw you without your mask, he’d run screaming. Humans don’t value beauty as we do; they can’t see beyond the flesh. Besides, your father would forbid it so hard, your babies would be born screaming ‘Oh no you didn’t, momma!’”
“It’s not fair, Timely.”
Timely turned to Babbette and stared deep into her golden-yellow eyes. “No, it’s not. That is why we live our lives behind masks, three hundred and sixty four days out of the year. Otherwise, it’d be Frankenstein, all over again.”
Babbette laughed. “Are you on that conspiracy again? Frankenstein’s monster was not one of us. Besides, that was a tale of fiction. We were there when Mary Shelly wrote the book.”
“You mean, I was there,” Timely huffed. “And I know, for a fact…”
Before Timely could continue her tale, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Girls,” Gorman shouted. “What may I ask are you doing out here, when there are humans to frighten within the walls of the manse?”
Both girls turned and stared, wide-eyed, at Gorman Gaultier.
“We were,” started Babbette.
“…just getting some fresh air,” continued Timely.
“The smoke was bothering my voice,” finished Babbette.
Gorman stepped in between the girls and leaned against the railing. He took in a great pull of air. “Isn’t that the most lovely smell? There is something other-worldly about Autumn.”
“I wish it would remain this way, year round,” added Timely.
Gorman glanced at Timely and spoke with a measured tone. “What fun would that be, young Timely? The change of the seasons serves to remind us how precious life is. Without Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, we would all fall victim to complacency. Besides, there’s a beauty in the change that cannot be found elsewhere.”
Babette moaned. “Oh Father, you’re too much of a romantic.”
“And what, may I ask, is wrong with that? Romantic souls are what make the world a beautiful experience. We feed the hearts of those without connection to creation or joy. Without us, this planet would be dreadfully beige.” Gorman turned to Timely. “I do so hate the color beige.”
“We know, Father,” chimed Babbette.
“Beige is the color of boring,” the girls recited the familiar phrase in unison.
Gorman let loose a laugh from deep within his belly. The sound resonated off the nearby walls and bounced around until it drifted to silence.
Babbette looked to her father. “Father…”
Gorman smiled down at his child. “Yes, my dear?”
The young girl stared up at the elder and went blank.
“Is there something you want of me, darling?”
Babbette shook her head. “No, Father.”
Timely grabbed Babbette’s hand and gave
it a tug. “Come now, let’s return to our stations. We have humans to haunt.”
The two girls started off, but were stopped by Gorman’s booming voice. “Ladies…”
Babbette and Timely turned to see Gorman looking to them, his hands crossed in front of his chest and his left eyebrow raised.
“Yes, Father,” Babbette asked, fear creeping through her voice.
Slowly, steadily, a smile drifted across Gorman’s lips. “Have fun.”
The girls both offered a quick curtsy, turned, and sped off to the entrance. Gorman stood, perfectly still, taking in the moment. When he finally turned back toward the crowd of humans, he raised his hand and turned it so the palm faced up. He closed his eyes and whispered, deep and soft. “Come to me, secret moment. Grant me your knowledge, so that I may protect my child from the ill will of mankind.”
The air around Gorman’s hand sparkled. The show of light concentrated itself above his palm until it funneled into his flesh and disappeared. When he opened his eyes, the pupils dilated until all color had been replaced by blackness. A low growl escaped his throat. He pulled in a deep breath and then puffed a cloud of sparkling air from his lips. The contrail shot out and chased down the cause of his daughters condition.
“Oh my dearest Babbette,” Gorman whispered, “this will not do.”
With a flourish, Gorman turned and walked to the entrance of the mansion. Before he pulled the door open, he released a long, relaxing breath.
eight | tactical skirt move
Lunch was ritual, a rite of passage for all teenagers. It was a painfully slow climb up the social ladder and the only possible reward was a seat at the table dubbed ‘Cool’. Sally and I knew that was never a part of our future; so for the last two years, we relegated ourselves to a corner table where no one would notice us. We did our best to remain ‘small’. There were days when it bothered one or both of us and we’d venture out. When the shaming looks fell upon us, we’d scurry back to our corner like rats and hope drama didn’t follow us.
The whole scenario made me feel like a coward. How was I ever going to step out of fear’s shadow when all I knew was how to tuck my tail between my legs and run off?
