The Haunting of Waverly Hall

by Michael Richan

“It must be something you’re tuned to,” Rachel replied. “I don’t remember feeling much of anything when Marc and I dropped and walked through it. I remember thinking, ‘I hope this works!’ It didn’t.”

  “Try it again,” Eliza asked.

  Rachel entered the flow and crossed the threshold, then dropped out. “I feel a little something. Like last time.”

  “You don’t feel like there’s power surging through you?” Eliza asked.

  “No, not even close. See, this is why I wanted you to help me! You’ve got some special ability with this kind of thing!”

  “Maybe,” Eliza replied, still marveling at her hands and the sensations she felt; rapidly moving prickles of exhilaration running up and down the length of her fingers.

  “Let me show you where we found stuff,” Rachel said, passing Eliza and walking deeper into the house, leading her upstairs. Eliza followed. The floorplan of the house was remarkably similar to her own, with small differences. Some of the wooden poles holding up the banister were shaped differently than the ones in her home, and the wallpaper, peeling in places, was a different pattern. When they reached the top of the stairs, Rachel led her to the last room on the left.

  My room, Eliza thought.

  Inside were a broken bed frame and an old desk against a wall. She walked to the window and looked out.

  The garage, she thought, looking down. It’s in the same place. And the road.

  She glanced to the left, almost expecting to see gravestones in the same spot where they were on her property; there were no markers.

  “It was all in this desk,” Rachel said, behind her. She turned. “We found the diary in this drawer. There were a couple of other weird things in here too. Marc took them. They all disappeared when Marc died.”

  “When Marc disappeared,” Eliza corrected.

  “Right, disappeared,” Rachel said. “You can see the desk is mostly empty now.”

  Eliza closed her eyes and entered the River, looking around the room. Nothing was different. She tried to sense anything powerful, as she’d felt at the home’s threshold, but there were no such feelings here in the bedroom. She dropped from the flow.

  “There’s nothing here,” Eliza said. “It’s all centered in the doorway downstairs.”

  “I don’t get it,” Rachel said. “We tried it. It didn’t work.”

  “It does work,” Eliza said. “I promise you, when you walk through that threshold in the River, it bestows something upon you. You called it a token, why?”

  “That’s what Gloria called it, in her diary.”

  “Maybe you need more than just the token.”

  “She didn’t mention anything else.”

  “You said you and Marc took some objects from the desk, some weird stuff. How about any of those? Maybe you had to have one of them with you while you passed through?”

  “Maybe,” Rachel said, sitting on a dusty chair. “Like I said, there wasn’t anything in the diary about that.”

  “Hmm.” Eliza began to pace. The power that had entered her body downstairs was still rumbling around inside her, making her itch. Pacing made her feel as if she was expending some of it.

  “Tell me again how you and Marc did it,” Eliza asked.

  “We came here. We both dropped into the River, and we walked through the threshold. Then we walked to the hall. When we went inside…well, I told you already what happened.”

  “No sense that it wasn’t going to work?” Eliza asked.

  “Not really.”

  “But you didn’t feel this tingling sensation, this kind of power surging through you, like I’m feeling?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just a sense that something had happened when we walked through the threshold. I thought maybe we had the token, that maybe it would work, so we went with it.”

  “Let’s walk to the hall,” Eliza said.

  “Oh, no!” Rachel replied. “Don’t ask me to do that! I’m not going to lose you, too!”

  “We won’t go in. I just want to see how things develop.”

  “You promise?”

  “I swear.”

  Rachel rose from the chair and they made their way downstairs. Soon they were walking down the driveway, back to the main road.

  “We’ll go past the old Erdmann place,” Rachel said. “It’s the last one I wanted to show you on the tour.” They walked silently down the road until the lights of the house appeared through the trees. Rachel stopped.

  “It’s rented, so we can’t go in; at least, not without talking to them. Pam told me he commutes to Fond du Lac.”

  “Why would they want to rent way out here?”

  “Good question,” Rachel replied. “It does look like a nice house. But you’d think there are better options closer to Fond du Lac than living in run-down Waverly.”

  Rachel turned to take a different street. Eliza looked back at the house in the distance as they walked away; she saw a white minivan parked in front of the structure.

  It didn’t take long for the hall to come into view. As they got closer, they turned off their flashlights, allowing the single streetlight to guide their way.

  A hundred feet from the hall’s door, Eliza felt the electricity inside her begin to surge, crackling through her system like an alarm.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said as they walked.

  Rachel stopped and turned to her. “What?”

  “It’s starting to feel out of control.” She held up her hand to show Rachel; it was shaking. “You and Marc never felt any warning signs like this?”

  “No. Maybe we should stop.”

  “We’re still a ways from the building,” Eliza said, glancing up at the hall, dimly lit by the streetlight. “Let’s try a little closer, just to be sure.”

  “I don’t think we should.”

  “We won’t go in,” Eliza replied.

  They took a few more steps toward the door of the hall. Eliza could picture how they’d entered the building just a couple of hours earlier; it was silent and still, with no hint of any kind of malevolence. The quickening intensity within her body made her feel she was having some kind of attack; each step jacked up the intensity. She reached for her chest; her heart was beating madly.

  “We should stop, Eliza,” Rachel said.

  Eliza looked up at the hall. The dirty windows on the ground floor reflected the yellowish light of the streetlamp, but she could see something inside, beyond the panes of glass. It was moving back and forth.

  “Do you see inside?” Eliza said, pointing.

  Rachel turned to look at the hall. “No!” she replied. “I don’t see anything!”

  Eliza took another couple of steps toward the building, hoping to see more detail through the windows. Something flew past them and then returned. She could see the outline of wings, beating the air. Something was hovering just inside the window, looking out at her.

  She took another step, peering intently, trying to make out the image. A face appeared between the wings — a sunken, hollow face, with large pits for eyes and exposed teeth.

  Eliza stepped back, and the frightful image pulled away from the window. She could hear music, faintly drifting over the roadway. It was a polka — slow and twisted, out of tune.

  She took an additional step and felt her heart leap, skipping beats. Afraid it might be a heart attack, she stepped back, retreating.

  “There’s no way I could enter the building like this,” Eliza said. “I can’t believe you and Marc even made it to the door.”

  She turned and walked from the structure until she was much farther away. She stopped and took a deep breath, waiting for her pulse to return to normal.

  “I think that proves it,” Rachel said. “You are tuned to it. You can pick it up.”

  “I’m amazed that you couldn’t detect it,” Eliza replied. “It felt like my heart would beat right out of my chest.”

  “How foolish we were,” Rachel said. “Marc and I didn’t have a clue. I should never have
suggested it.”

  “If you couldn’t sense it, how were you to know?” Eliza replied.

  “Do you feel OK? Should we go back to the house? We can pick this back up tomorrow if you want. You look beat.”

  “No,” Eliza replied. “I want to go to the store.”

  “Back there? Why?”

  “Because we know Gloria went there.”

  Chapter Five

  Eliza stared at the padlock on the door to the red brick store. “We went in the window when we were here earlier,” she said. “Not the threshold.”

  “The threshold?” Rachel repeated. “Why would that matter? The gateway is at the Grignon farm. You proved that.”

  “I proved that a gateway is there,” Eliza replied. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only one.”

  Rachel paused, thinking. “Never considered that.”

  Eliza lowered her flashlight and reached for her lockpicking kit. Rachel stepped up to keep light on the padlock while Eliza worked.

  “More than one gateway,” Rachel muttered. “Huh.”

  “Think about it,” Eliza replied while twisting a torsion wrench into the lock. “We know she came here. Peter said so.”

  The lock clicked open, and Eliza removed it from the latch, dropping it to the ground. She retrieved her flashlight and pushed the door open.

  “You want to go first?” she asked Rachel.

  “After you,” Rachel replied.

  Eliza dropped into the River and crossed the threshold.

  Instantly she felt the electricity in her system calm and level off. She inhaled, feeling the air go more deeply into her lungs, and her vision intensified, making the dark corners of the room more visible. She turned and watched as Rachel followed her.

  Nothing, Rachel said.

  No, not nothing, Eliza replied. Very much something! It harnessed the energy from Gloria’s threshold.

  Eliza glanced down. At her feet were smudges and splatters, eerily glowing as though someone had spilled a radioactive liquid. The trail ran out the door and back through the store.

  Do you see that? Eliza asked, pointing down.

  Oh! Rachel replied, kneeling. They’re so faint, but yes, I can see them.

  To Eliza they were anything but faint. They glowed a ghostly red color, vivid and stark. She followed the trail through the store; it crossed the main room and ascended the stairs. At the top it turned and proceeded down the hallway, coming to stop at the third door.

  I don’t need to go in there again, Eliza said, drifting away from the door and back downstairs. Rachel followed. When they reached the store’s threshold, she passed through it again, and saw that the splatters ran off into the distance, becoming farther and farther apart.

  That’s the direction of the hall, isn’t it? Eliza asked.

  Yes, Rachel replied.

  Eliza dropped from the flow. Once Rachel had dropped too, she pulled the door closed and slipped the padlock back onto the latch.

  “Come on,” she said, turning to follow the trail.

  “We’re going back there?” Rachel asked. “To the hall?”

  “That’s where it leads,” Eliza replied, walking. “I think the threshold at the store issued a second token. I want to see how things go at the hall now.”

  “You said it feels different?”

  “Yes. After Gloria’s threshold things felt crazy, like power out of control. I can feel that power still there, but now it’s tempered and modulated. I think I can control it.”

  “Oh god,” Rachel mumbled. “I didn’t think things would move this quickly. It took Marc and me weeks to sort it out the first time. You’ve been here three hours and you’re ready to try the hall. I’m amazed.”

  “No sense in sitting around,” Eliza replied. “We get this solved tonight, I can go back to Spring Green and still have a vacation!”

  “OK,” Rachel replied. “As long as you’re sure.”

  They walked toward the hall. Within another minute it came into view. Eliza assessed herself; she felt none of the prickling anxiety of the last attempt. Instead she felt a calmness and assurance that compounded the closer they got to the building.

  “This was where you freaked out last time,” Rachel said, stopping. “What do you feel now?”

  “I feel fine,” Eliza replied. “I feel protected. I think this is it, Rachel. I think we found the right sequence.”

  They walked closer, Eliza monitoring each step. As they approached the windows, she could see movement inside; distant figures shifting at ground level, and the faint strains of a polka.

  They stood at the door. Eliza dropped into the River. Stay right behind me, Rachel.

  Rachel followed her into the River. They took Marc just inside the hallway. Be careful.

  Eliza passed through the door and into the entryway. It looked nothing like the dirty, dilapidated hallway she’d seen a few hours earlier. Bright lights hung overhead, and the walls were lined with colorful coats and jackets, hanging from hooks. There were a few boots sitting on the ground under the jackets.

  There! Rachel said, pointing toward the ceiling at the end of the hall. Sitting high on the molding were two skulls, glistening white.

  Light streamed into the end of the hallway from the main room, accompanied by the sounds of music and dancing. They slowly progressed down the long hall. As Eliza approach the end of it, she kept her gaze on the skulls hanging on the molding. They moved slightly, shifting from left to right and back again, as though they were birds, watching from above. Something large and black surrounded them on each side; she couldn’t make out what it was.

  They turned the corner. The room was filled with dozens and dozens of people, all hopping and dancing to the sound of a polka. At the end of the hall was a gentleman with a phonograph, alternatively watching the crowd dance, and the progress of the arm on the record spinning on the turntable. He looked ready to swap the record with another, as soon as the current one finished. The out-of-tune music wheezed from the speaker on the phonograph, filling the hall.

  They walked into the room. Above them were six large chandeliers holding brightly-lit electric bulbs. Eliza noticed more of the skulls, hanging near the molding that encircled the room. She saw one of them drop, as though it had fallen from a hook, and large black wings spread out from its sides, causing it to rise just before hitting the ground. The wings beat at the air, and the skull soared through the room, coming to land on the ground near a dancer, a tall man in his early thirties.

  Eliza realized two other skulls were already at the man’s legs. They were attached at the thigh, their mouths biting down on the flesh of the man’s leg, chewing into it, ripping out large, translucent chunks. The man was holding a woman as they spun to the polka, seemingly unaware of the attack, laughing as they turned, dancing.

  Who stole the keeshka? Who stole the keeshka? warbled from the phonograph speaker, discordant and distorted, as though the record was warped.

  More of the skulls descended from the ceiling, landing upon other dancers, gnawing at other parts of their bodies. The dancers danced and spun, sliding their feet in a one-two-three one-two-three cadence, oblivious to the creatures.

  Eliza turned to Rachel. I’m guessing this isn’t what you expected.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect, she replied.

  They walked among the dancers. Eliza felt the skulls watching them as they moved through the hall, but none of them attacked. She wondered if it were the skulls who had taken Marc from Rachel years ago.

  The record ended and the dancers came to a stop, laughing and applauding, turning to talk amongst themselves. Within a few moments another tune began, and the ghosts in the hall took up the new dance. Some of the dancers appeared to be missing pieces of their body; a hand, a foot, a section of their neck. They danced on regardless, seemingly unfazed by the lack of the appendage or body part.

  She caught sight once again of the skulls on the leg of the tall man and watched them closely. They’re eating him, she t
hought, and he doesn’t seem to care.

  A stairway, Rachel said, pulling her out of the middle of the dance floor. Let’s see where it goes.

  Eliza felt like she was in the middle of a twisted nightmare, a bizarre wonderland gone wrong. The more she tried to process the images of the dancers around her, the more bewildered she became, and she happily allowed Rachel to drag her from the hall and into the stairwell. She followed Rachel down, the music slowly receding into a faint pulse of beats. A smell of dampness and dirt hit her nostrils.

  The basement was only half the size of the hall above, but it was much more dimly lit. In a far corner, a rustling pile of movement drew her attention; it was dark and slowly undulating. As they approached, she could see it was made of the dark feathers she’d observed on the skulls upstairs. They approached within ten feet of it, when Eliza decided to stop.

  Here! Rachel said, addressing the pile.

  The feathers erupted into a sudden flapping as dozens of the birds arose from the pile. They flew rapidly through the air, filling the basement, flying at Eliza and Rachel. Eliza raised her arms to shield her face, but found them used as targets by the birds. The teeth-lined mouths of the skulls bit into her arms and pulled them back behind her body. Eliza tried to shake her arms to dislodge them, but they held firm, digging into her skin.

  She saw Rachel struggling with the birds as well, her arms similarly pinned back, the mouths of the skulls biting firmly into them to hold her immobile. She saw Rachel’s eyes widen as she stared into the corner.

  Eliza returned her gaze to the spot where the birds had been. Rising from the ground was a tall, muscular man. His head alternated between a skull and flesh. At the sides of the skull were black wings, similar to the ones holding her but much larger; they sat folded against the sides of his head.

  Once his body was fully upright, he walked toward them, stopping in front of Rachel. The skulls holding her released her arms and flew away. Rachel ran her hands along the indentations in her flesh, left there by the skulls.

  She’s here, Rachel said to the man. I’ve done what you asked. Where is he?

  Eliza watched as the man turned from Rachel and stared at her. He took another step forward. His eyes appeared only momentarily, as the image of his head shifted back to a skull.