Key to a Haunting

by Coral Russell

  Key to a Haunting

  Coral Russell

  Published: 2011

  Tag(s): "short story" ghosts paranormal haunting

  This story is dedicated to my family, friends,and all the ghost hunters out there. I had tons of help with this and I appreciate everything! Couldn't have done it without you. <3 Coral Russell

  If you liked this story, please consider leaving a review on Amazon as a way of saying 'thanks for the free read.'

  http://www.amazon.com/Key-to-a-Haunting-ebook/dp/B0055DJO5E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1309282385&sr=1-1

  The dance was beautiful. Arms waving gracefully. Bodies swaying, doing pirouettes before slumping to the floor. Long hair floating up for a second as bright liquid strands of flame. The women that didn’t jump suffocated or burned to death. The doors locked.

  1

  Allen Harris lay on the bed, arms and legs splayed out, the sheets a crumpled mess around him, trying to will himself into oblivion. The refrain from a song playing in his head, Make the world go away …

  His life was pretty much over, like the other estimated eight million recently unemployed workers in America. The bank he worked for failed. The ripple of fear turned into a panic on Wall Street that more banks would soon topple. In his mind, he shared some responsibility.

  The housing bubble popped, an over-inflated balloon that took Allen’s career with it. Banks were making interest-only loans to homeowners and then reselling them to free up money in order to make more loans. Soon the original packaged deals were broken up and resold several times, using sophisticated computer programs to figure out the derivatives and sub prime mortgages. All went well until housing prices dropped and foreclosures piled up.

  Allen’s bank, Trust and Security, moved $40 billion every three months to hide the fact that a hundred-year old company was living on borrowed money and borrowed time. With no bailout coming from the Feds, the doors closed and the world didn’t stop turning.

  Make the world go away… . He covered his face with his pillow and tried to suffocate himself. A rapping at the door interrupted him. His mother’s muffled voice called out, “Breakfast is on the table, honey!”

  He pushed down hard one more time then flung the pillow to the floor. Is that eggs and bacon? Be a shame to let mom’s cooking go to waste.

  Allen entered the kitchen to find his father's icy blue eyes peering at him over the top of the Wall Street Journal. Allen ran a hand through his rumpled, dirty-blond hair and tightened up his bathrobe before sitting down to eat. He had a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth when his father said, “After breakfast, I would like a word with you in my office.”

  “Sure, dad.”

  Allen listened to his father fold up the newspaper. He felt a light tap on his shoulder as his father passed by. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Once seated in his father's office, Allen picked invisible lint from his shirt, straightened his sleeves and adjusted his position in the cushioned chair.

  “Our family owns some downtown property.”

  This was not the conversation Allen had expected. “Property?”

  “Yes, your great-grandfather owned the building and we’ve been using it as a tax write-off. I think it was a factory at one point. It’s been vacant for at least forty years. Well, not completely vacant, the first floor is rented out.”

  “And… ”

  “And, I want you to do… something. I don’t care what, but it’s part of your inheritance. It’s run down, but functional. You’ll need to study the downtown economy and decide how best to proceed.”

  Allen swallowed hard. “Sure, Dad, thanks. I’ll get right on it.”

  ***

  Allen stood on the corner of Stanton and Franklin. In front of him, ten stories high, stood the first fire-proof building from the 1900s. The street level housed a popular retail shoe store, clothing retailer and a chain restaurant. Impressive for a tax write-off.

  When his father handed over the keys, the old feeling of excitement at a new challenge drove Allen to see the property right away. The keys jingled, full of promise, in his pocket as approached the enclosed staircase that gave him full access to the building.

  2

  Months later, Allen surveyed El Paso’s most luxurious corporate apartments with a panoramic view of the downtown area. The price tag covered rent, utilities and once-a-week maid service. Initial marketing proved successful and half the apartments were already leased. He was a success. Again.

  Allen moved from his parents to the apartment decorated in warm, earth tones. The kitchen gleamed with immaculate, granite counters, light-brown wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances.

  The plunk of a cork leaving a bottle of Veramonte wine from Chile, echoed throughout the apartment. He poured himself a glass in celebration of moving out of his parent’s house for the second time in his life, and, he promised, the last. He glided into the living room, the wine halfway to his lips, when the glass slipped from his fingers.

  The torsos of at least a dozen women milled around back and forth over the hard wood floor and across the hemp rug.

  Allen jumped back, his feet slipping out from underneath him. Pain shot down his leg when he landed hard on his right hip. As the sensation subsided, he remembered why he was on the floor. He scuttled back into the kitchen, kicking the door shut as he passed.

  He used the counter to haul himself upright, poured another full glass of wine and downed it before limping to peak through the door again. A CD of the Paul Whiteman jazz orchestra played softly in the background. No bodies. He opened the door wider. Fantastic, he thought, I’m a successful nut.

  A clerk was at his desk working on an account when a shadow passed by the window in front of him. His mouth dropped open as a body fell trailing flames. Shouts, screams, and yells from outside punctuated the fall of each person. He stood, hypnotized, as woman after woman plunged to the street below. Two girls fell, holding hands.

  3

  The maid service made no comment on the mess left in the condo nor asked any questions when Allen moved into another one across the hall. The predominately black and gray colors matched his mood for the next few days. Since nothing else freaky happened, he chalked it up to a bad case of delayed stress.

  Allen brightened up considerably when his wife, Laurie, called to talk. He started walking on air after she mentioned plans to bring the girls for a short visit.

  Allen had laid low when he first arrived in El Paso, but now, hooking up with old high school friends seemed like the perfect way to celebrate the completion of the apartments. Allen found out a good friend also moved back in town and opened a restaurant on the west side.

  Ruli was thrilled to hear about Allen’s plan for a mini-reunion of their Entrepreneurship Club from High School and offered up his place for a beer tasting and tapas party. Ruli’s International Kitchen consisted of twelve tables and a long bar. Behind the bar, Allen perused a collection of fine imported beers and wines.

  “What do you like?” asked Ruli.

  “You know, I really go for the dark, strong stuff,” said Allen.

  “Then you’re going to love this.” Ruli reached behind the bar and popped the top on a bottle of Dixie Blackened Voodoo Lager. When he poured it into a clear glass mug it became a dark, swirling liquid topped with a coffee-colored head of foam.

  Allen tasted the beer. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. I do love this!” He swung around and surveyed the rest of the small room.

  People started arriving and gathered in groups of four and five. Ruddy faces shone under the soft track lighting and laughter rose and fell in quick bursts. Allen lifted his mug in greeting to several friends as they passed by a little wobbly on their feet. “He
y, I thought this was supposed to be a ‘beer tasting’ not a ‘beer drinking’ party.” Scattered laughter broke out again. He leaned back to Ruli and said, “This sure is different from the wine tastings my wife takes me to.”

  Ruli slapped him on the back, “This was a great idea, man, thanks.”

  ***

  Allen stumbled against the door frame to the condo, clutching a six-pack of his new favorite beer. He chuckled to himself for no reason. After three swipes, he managed to fit the key in the lock and entered the condo. The twinkling orange and yellow lights of downtown El Paso lit the living room enough that he didn't even bother turning on a light. Allen put his package on the living room coffee table, took out a beer and picked his way past furniture to the patio.

  I’m back, he thought to himself. Once Laurie gets here with the girls, we’ll sit down and talk this all out. It’s my fault. I’ll own up to everything. He missed his family, and right now getting them back was the most important thing.

  Coldness interrupted his thoughts. He frowned. His back was colder than his front, which was exposed to the cool night air. In alcohol-induced slow motion, he turned around.

  A young girl, of fifteen or sixteen ran straight at him. Her arms reached out and her mouth was open in a silent scream, eyes wide with terror. Her hair was a long train of flames.

  Allen held up his hands in an attempt to slow her down. She passed by him as he grabbed at her clothes. Momentum almost carried Allen over the edge himself. He gripped the railing and stared into empty space. There was nothing there. Nothing at all.

  He stumbled back around and sat down. Holding up the beer bottle in his hand, he thought, At least I didn’t waste my beer. He rubbed his face with his free hand thinking, What if it had been one of his own daughters?

  ***

  Allen woke up on the couch with the T.V. blaring and the condo ablaze with light. He tried to prop himself up with his hands, but a sharp pain made him fall back onto his elbows. When he dragged himself to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, he noticed his left palm was bright red. It looked like a burn.

  Back in the living room, numb and hung-over, Allen turned the T.V. remote over and over in his hands. The local news team was interviewing a man dressed all in black, including a cowboy hat. The scene changed to night-vision. The scrolling caption under the video read “Ghost Hunt - El Paso Downtown Library.”

  The man in the cowboy hat was speaking directly to the camera when something clattered off camera behind him. He moved to investigate a book that apparently had fallen to the floor all by itself. As the camera cut back to the interview, Allen learned they were talking about ghost hunting and the man in black, Hector, ran ghost tours in El Paso. Allen leaned over the coffee table and jotted the number down on a scrap of paper in front of him.

  4

  Laurie agreed to bring the girls to his parent’s house instead of meeting on neutral territory. His parents agreed to keep silent about the reasons for the separation. His mother even pulled him aside and gave Allen a bracelet to give to Laurie as a reconciliation gift. All went well during a home cooked lunch of green chile enchiladas, beans, rice, and tortillas. After Allen lavished affection and gifts on his daughters, he grabbed Laurie’s hand and led her to the manicured back yard.

  “Everything is going to be all right,” he said.

  “Really?” Laurie laughed softly. “You always could make me laugh.”

  Allen took both her hands in his, “I mean it. I’m back on my feet. It’s not Wall Street, but we can make a life here.”

  “You want me to just up and leave my job? Allen, how can I trust that you won't let the pressure get to you again? You ran away and left everything behind.”

  Allen looked into her warm brown eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fell apart and gave up. I let you all down and I am sorry. It’s whatever you want. I need some more time to get the condos leased. After that, the property will pretty much take care of itself and then I can move back and find a new job.”

  “I don’t know.” Laurie pulled her hands out of his.

  “Everything is going to work out, I promise. I could stand you being angry with me, but I couldn’t stand disappointing you.”

  “You didn’t disappoint me.” When Allen tried to look away, Laurie took his face in her hands. “All the stuff doesn’t matter to me. It never did. You got all wrapped up in the prestige, money, status, all the things that didn’t have anything to do with us, as a family.”

  “What can I do to make this right between us?”

  She kissed him gently. “Asking that question is a good start.”

  “Since you’re not interested in stuff, I guess I should give this back to Mom.” Allen took out the silver bracelet inlaid with semi-precious stones.

  “Allen, where did you get this? It’s gorgeous.”

  “Well, I didn’t think flowers were going to cut it, but if Mom doesn’t see you wearing this, she’s going to think I screwed up.”

  She kissed him again as he fastened the bracelet on her wrist. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

  Allen tried to dissuade Laurie from going to the condo with him to collect his things. She asked why they couldn’t just stay there, but he convinced her the condos were intended for businessmen, not families with children. He wasn’t lying, but he didn’t tell her the place creeped him out. Since he couldn't come up with any good reason for not showing her what he’d been working on all this time, they left the happy grandparents watching the kids and headed for the condos.

  Laurie loved the third condo Allen had moved to with its cool, pale, wood paneling and cabinets accented with teal, brown and white trim. She admired the embroidered cactus and palm tree throw pillows and asked, “Did you decorate this yourself?”

  “Not exactly,” he called out from the bedroom where he was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. “I came up with the color scheme and some ideas to give each condo an individual personality, but an interior designer put it all together.

  “Allen, they are beautiful.”

  “Thanks, honey. That means a -” He was interrupted by her screaming. “Laurie!” he yelled, running to the living room. He stopped at the entryway where Laurie stood with her back pressed against the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. Her face was turned as far as the glass would allow and her eyes were squeezed shut. “Laurie?”

  A figure passed in front of him as the walls seeped away exposing the whole floor in a way Allen had never seen it. Rows of black sewing machines gleamed in a flickering orange light. People, mostly women, ran back and forth, panic-stricken. Some of them, already on fire, leapt out shattered windows while others plunged down the elevator shaft at the far end. Thick, black smoke rolled through the room. Allen started coughing. He collapsed to the floor thinking, Stop, drop, and roll, before blackness thickened all around him.

  The blackness turned grey and he could hear his wife crying and yelling his name from far away. When he forced his eyes to open, Laurie's face bobbed up and down. His shoulders throbbed. She must have been shaking him for a while.

  “It’s okay.” His voice was rough and shaky.

  “No, it’s not! I saw women, girls. And there was a fire. Was there a fire here?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But since this is the third condo that something strange has happened in, it’s about time I found out.”

  5

  Allen heard the chime of the elevator doors. As two men rounded the corner to enter his office, he recognized the man in black from the T.V. “Hector?”

  “Mr. Harris, nice to meet you,” Hector said extending his hand.

  Allen shook Hector's hand.

  “And this is Marcos.”

  “Hi, Marcos. Nice to meet you,” Allen said shaking Marcos's hand.

  “Likewise.”

  “Let's talk in here.” Allen led them to his office and motioned for them to have a seat. He had splurged on the Equipale furniture that decorated the reception area an
d office. Every time someone new entered he couldn't help mentioning how the furniture was hand-made of estaca wood and tobacco-stained pigskin. No two pieces were exactly alike and the cushions had to be custom-made as well.

  Hector and Marcos nodded politely as he finished his explanation.

  Allen rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “Now that you’re here, I’m beginning to feel pretty silly about the whole thing.”

  “Take your time,” said Marcos.

  “We’re not here to judge you, Mr. Harris,” said Hector. “We’re here to listen and help, if we can. If we can’t, we’ll tell you up front.”

  “Good, good, it just sounds so crazy.” Allen took a deep breath, offered drinks and drank some water himself before finally retelling all the events leading up to calling El Paso Ghost Hunters.

  “So the first time you saw part of their bodies?” said Marcos.