by Angie Martin
Vic waited for Joey to signal that the opening credits completed before launching into the history of the Farr house and its role in the murders. “What makes tonight so special,” he said, “is that Halloween has incredible meaning here at the Farr house. Bill Farr was born on Halloween night in this very house. He killed 31 victims. And, he was captured on Halloween night just over a decade ago, again, in this home. Let’s take a look inside.”
As they moved back into the home, Lena spoke. “Just two months ago, Bill Farr was executed by lethal injection. Though since his initial capture, Farr’s mom, Wilma, had experienced unusual disturbances, his death gave them new life, as if Farr’s death riled up the spirits of his victims.”
After they situated themselves in the kitchen, Darren continued their introduction. “Wilma and guests of hers have heard unusual noises, seemingly originating in the basement. But, since Farr’s execution, not only have the voices escalated, but there have been sightings of women roaming the halls at night.”
“Since the disturbances are more active at night,” Vic said, “We’ll be staying here through the dawn. Besides us three, we have our cameraman, Joey, but no other crewmembers will be allowed on the premises until the morning. I think we should start out the tour upstairs and finish in the basement, where we can begin the investigation of a lifetime.”
Chapter Five
Four hours passed with very little activity outside of the anxiety in Vic’s mind. Their first chance at an optimal location, one where no other investigator had stepped foot, and the ghosts who met their ends there had nothing to say.
Sure that his career in television paranormal investigation had spontaneously combusted two hours earlier, Vic decided to do something a bit more drastic, something Alice always balked at in the past. Outside of the camera’s view, he raced to his large duffel bag on the kitchen table. Unzipping it, he reached inside and took out the last remaining content: an Ouija board.
When he first brought up the idea of using an Ouija in their investigations, Alice shut him down, calling it “amateur.” Vic, however, had first-hand experience with the power contained within the Ouija. In college, he started playing around with one, testing it during a few investigations to try and rouse the sleeping spirits. It worked from his first go.
On his radio, he called Lena and Darren to the living room, where he set up the Ouija. They joined him, and both smiled with nostalgia. While Vic explained their history with the Ouija for their viewers, Lena and Darren took their positions. They shook out their muscles and carefully rested their fingertips on the planchette.
“I want to speak to the spirits in this house,” Lena said, without being prompted. For some reason, the spirits responded better to her than the others. “We know your time here was not pleasant, and we understand you are trapped here. We can help you go home, but you have to first make your presence known. Are there any spirits—”
Crash.
Vic jumped, but his fingers stayed on the planchette. All three looked around the room frantically, but nothing in the room had moved. The sound seemed to have come from upstairs.
“I’m not the only one who heard that, right?” Darren asked.
“Definitely not,” Lena said.
“That’s a damn powerful spirit,” Darren said.
“It’s the Ouija,” Vic said. “They just needed some prompting. We should go check it out.”
“I don’t think so,” Lena said. “If we leave now, the spirit may disappear. You two can go check it out. Joey and I can stay down here to continue using the Ouija to encourage the spirits.”
“It takes two to run the Ouija,” Vic said, “and we need Joey on that camera.”
“I’ll go upstairs then,” Darren said, getting to his feet. “You two just work your black magic down here, and I’ll catch that pesky thing on camera.”
“Joey can go with you,” Lena said.
“No, keep him with you,” Darren said. “That way, if something happens down here, he can film that while you both stay on the Ouija. If anything big is going on upstairs, I’ll call you up on the radio.”
Vic nodded, although he disliked breaking the number one rule of ghost hunting: don’t go alone. Through his night vision goggles, he watched Darren disappear upstairs before turning his attention back to the Ouija.
Lena took a deep breath and slowly released it. She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. “Spirit, please reveal your name.”
Another crash came from the upstairs. As Vic and Lena exchanged an uneasy look, footsteps thundered across the ceiling, moving from the bathroom into Bill’s bedroom, Vic surmised from the locations of the sound. What sounded like a muffled grunt followed, along with the sound of something dropping on the floor.
An unsettling silence fell over the house. Vic looked down at his radio on the coffee table, expecting it to spring to life with Darren’s voice, but nothing happened. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling again.
“Darren?” Lena called into her radio. “Darren, are you there?”
No response.
“I’m going to check on him,” Vic said.
“No,” Lena said. “We’ll both go.”
“I want you down here with Joey in case something else happens. It will be fine. I’m just going to grab Darren, investigate upstairs, and then we’ll come back to continue with the Ouija.”
Lena grabbed his hand as he stood up. “Let me come with you.” She made her plea with a soft, almost desperate voice.
He smiled and patted her hand. “I’ll be fine. You’re in good hands with Joey here.” He looked at Joey, who nodded his affirmation. “I’ll be right back.”
Letting go of Lena’s hand, he reached for his radio and gripped it to his side. He ascended the steps, keeping a careful eye on his surroundings, searching out any disturbances he could catch on camera. He started in the loft, but found no sign of Darren or of the item that made the earlier sounds. He lightly called Darren’s name as he moved out of the loft, but no voice came back to him.
When he reached the bathroom, he fished his flashlight out of the front pocket of his jeans. He shined it on the floor, toward the strange sight he saw through his infrared camera.
Blood.
The thought slammed into his mind without logic. Of course it wasn’t blood. There had been no blood here before. It appeared to be the same coloring, but he’d never seen swipes and small puddles of blood in his life, so to what did he have it to compare? With the sounds they heard, Darren clearly knocked something over in the dark during his investigation.
With the simple explanation calming his mind and slowing his pulse, Vic shifted the flashlight’s beam to the hallway. The reddish liquid continued down the carpeting, large drops of it.
It’s blood, dammit! Call it what it is!
Vic refused to listen to the irrational ramblings of the scared child in his brain, and he followed the trail down to the closed door of Bill Farr’s bedroom. His hand shook on the doorknob, but his weak muscles still found a way to twist it and push the door open. His flashlight zipped across the room, landing on Darren’s body slumped in the corner.
Racing to Darren, Vic nearly tripped over a bedpost. He turned his friend over and stared into his lifeless eyes. Only then did he notice the red liquid in which Darren laid.
Blood, I told you it was blood.
Vic scampered out of the bedroom and down the steps. He didn’t know what killed Darren, but he didn’t want to find out. His cell phone was in the kitchen, on the table next to his bag. He had to grab that, get Lena and Joey out of the house, and call the cops.
Lena cut Vic in the hall to the kitchen. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Where’s Darren?”
“Dead,” Vic said, mostly in a breath.
A laugh told him Lena didn’t believe him. “Come on, Vic.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “Darren’s upstairs, dead in Bill’s bedroom. We have to get out of here.” Only then did he realize that they were
missing someone. “Where’s Joey?”
“No, Vic.” Lena’s smile faded. “Tell me you’re kidding. Darren isn’t dead. This game of yours is starting to wear thin.” She grazed his side as she walked past him, toward the stairs.
He grabbed her arm before she reached the steps. “Lena! I’m not joking. Don’t go up there.”
She twirled around. “Darren’s dead? That’s impossible. He was just down here with us and—”
“We have to get out of here. Now, where’s Joey?”
She shook her head, but then appeared to snap out of her daze. “Joey? He’s downstairs. We heard something just after you went get Darren, and Joey went to check it out.”
“I’m going after him,” Vic said. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with here, but we can’t stay here another minute. Especially if this is a malevolent spirit.”
“Like Bill? Do you think he’s come back?”
“We can figure that out later. Go to the kitchen, get my cell phone, then go out front and call the cops. I’ll be right out there with Joey.”
“Be careful, Vic.” She pecked his cheek before heading toward the kitchen.
Vic sped to the living room and basement stairs. His shoes clunked down the steps. “Joey!” he called out halfway down. “Joey, we have to go!”
He ran around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, but didn’t see Joey anywhere. Using his flashlight to search, he found the basement in the same condition as when he was last in it. He checked the floor for any of that red liquid he saw upstairs (blood!), but found none.
A squeaking noise from the other side of the basement caught his attention. His flashlight lit up the room behind him, but again, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He followed the squeaks around another corner, where the washer and dryer were housed.
The rubber soles of tennis shoes jerked against the top of the mildewy, outdated washing machine. Shoes belonging to Joey. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his hands desperately tugging at the rope around his neck. Vic sprinted to Joey, formulating a plan to loosen the makeshift noose that hung him from the exposed pipes in the ceiling, but it was too late. Joey’s hands dropped to the side, and his legs stopped twitching.
Vic stood motionless for what seemed like eternity, staring at Joey’s body. First Darren, now Joey, his trusted cameraman and friend. What sort of malevolent spirit could do such harm? A demon, possibly, but Vic had no experience with those. When he got out of here, he’d have to research the subject and see what he could find.
Stop it! his mind screamed at itself. Just like with the blood upstairs, he didn’t want to admit what was happening, what danger he was in. His rational side was already researching what killed two of his friends, with no thought as to getting Lena out of harm’s way.
Lena, he thought. He had to get outside to Lena and wait with her for the cops to show up. He flew up the steps two at a time. A sound in the kitchen stopped him when he hit the living room. He did not know what made the sound, but if it was this spirit-demon, he didn’t want to catch its attention.
After turning of his flashlight, Vic crept out of the living room and into the hallway. He couldn’t help peeking into the kitchen as he passed, but didn’t see anything. He refocused on making it outside.
That was when he saw her. His beautiful Lena, standing against the front door. Why was she still inside? It was nice of her to wait, but she should have listened to him to go outside.
Tears had already flooded his eyes when he reached her body, pinned to the wood of the door with knives. The red liquid (this definitely isn’t blood – it can’t be) dripped down her petite body and onto the floor. Her head hung low without expression.
“Why didn’t you just go outside?” he asked her. “All you had to do was go outside and wait for me.”
His hand reached for her when he heard the noise behind him. He whipped around, but before he could focus on what made the sound, the world went black.
Chapter Six
Seven months later
Alice Marcel sat quietly on the couch, waiting for her glass of iced tea. The weather had warmed since her last visit to the Farr home, back in November when she worked with investigators on the graphic, disturbing scene of death for her Ghost Explorers team and one of her best cameramen.
The case had caught national attention, but more for what the cameras didn’t catch rather than what they did. Though the live executions of the four people had been newsworthy in and of itself, the absence of any murderer on the tapes made them a point of controversy and debate. Four people had met their deaths, yet not one of their cameras showed who killed them, leading the world to speculate on whether it was Bill Farr or one of his many victims that haunted and took the lives of the four on that Halloween night. Most likely, it was a combination of both.
Wilma Farr appeared from the other side of stacked moving boxes, two glasses of iced tea in hand. “I hope you like sweet tea,” she said. “I only use real sugar, none of that processed, chemical crap pushed on the world.”
“Real sugar is fine,” Alice said, lying. She was trying to drop another 20 pounds, but a small cheat with Wilma wouldn’t kill her diet entirely. She sipped the tea as she rested back against the couch.
“I trust you received the last payment.”
“That’s correct,” Alice said. “Two days ago, as agreed.”
“Then I guess I don’t understand why you’re here today.” Wilma’s sour expression and pointed statement didn’t surprise Alice. She had gotten to know Wilma very well over the past several months.
“I suppose I have some questions about… that night.”
Wilma crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Nine months ago, you showed up here, and we came to an agreement. You were to help me sell this house, and I would help you with your problems with your show. You held up your end, and I, mine. The house sold within one month of the police releasing the crime scene for four million dollars. Now, you have an extra million in your bank account, and I have three million. You don’t have to deal with those idiots on that show anymore, and you kept your job. What questions could you possibly have?”
Though everything Wilma said was correct, she still pressed ahead. “Did you hire someone?”
“Hire someone for…?”
Alice squirmed a bit in her seat, a little uncomfortable for the first time since stepping foot in the Farr house this afternoon. “We agreed that you would get rid of my problem, and I would doctor the footage to make it appear supernatural in nature. But, I’m sure you hired someone to help you. There’s no way you could have done that all yourself. I guess I’m curious to know if there are any other loose ends we need to worry about before going our separate ways.”
Wilma leaned back against the recliner and smiled. “You know, when William brought home that first whore, I didn’t hesitate in my duties as a mother.” She spoke the word “whore” with such venom that Alice jumped. “I knew I couldn’t have someone like that hanging around in my basement, tempting my sweet William. So, I got rid of her. And the next one. And the one after that. This went on until 31 of them had come and gone. He did what he wanted with them for a bit, and I pried him away from those sinful women who used their bodies to try and steal him away from me.”
Alice knew this, knew it all from their first discussion nine months earlier. She wondered for a moment why Wilma insisted on rehashing the past.
“I’m a mother,” Wilma said. “I’m good at helping clean up problems of my child. Now, I didn’t like you much when you first walked in here, but I came to. You’re of good people, my kind of people. I cleaned up your mess for you, and you took care of me, just like you promised.”
Her words satisfied Alice. With no more questions to ask, no more dialogue to exchange, she set her half-empty glass of tea on the coffee table and rose to her feet. “Thank you, Wilma,” she said. “I am very grateful to you.”
“And I, you,” Wilma said, a hint of a smile on her face.
&nb
sp; As Alice walked to the hallway, she had one more thought. Turning around she said, “Just one more question, if you don’t mind. How did you find out about my past? The incident you mentioned when we met that first day?”
Wilma’s laugh roared across the room. “Oh, honey,” she said, her tone a little condescending, as if she felt sorry for Alice. “I never knew of any ‘incident.’ Like I said, you’re my kind of people.”
Alice nodded slowly, realization coming over her. Wilma had played her from day one. She was right; they were exactly the same. “So, what made you think I had anything you could use against me?”
“Women like you and me don’t get to our place in life without leaving a few bodies behind as evidence we’ve been there.”
Alice smiled. “We don’t, do we?”
Flawless
Chapter One
“I’ve had a wonderful evening.”
Maggie Barrett’s heart swelled at Henry Watson’s words, as the two lovers strolled down the shadowed side street. Barely two months into their affair, but she had fallen for the older man, quite possibly during their first meeting. She had received a handwritten invitation to a local jeweler’s opening event. Though she normally paid no mind to such things, she had just broken her favorite chain, and she figured the invite was a great way to see if she could get it repaired.
She didn’t attend the party itself, but visited the store the next morning, broken chain in hand. As soon as Henry stepped out of his office to assist her, her knees buckled on sight. He had been unable to fix her gold chain, but her heart was a different matter.
After that, she had journeyed several more times to his shop, hemming and hawing about which replacement chain to purchase. Though she had decided on one during her first visit, she needed an excuse to see the handsome jeweler.
