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Key to a Haunting

Page 4

by Coral Russell


  “Mom, hey, what’s wrong? Is Dad okay?” He scanned the room for signs of his father.

  “Oh, Allen, he’s so upset. He's never acted like this before.”

  “Like what? What happened?” Allen sat next to his mother, putting a hand on her back.

  “Remember the bracelet?”

  “Yea, of course. Laurie loved it.”

  “I’m glad, honey.” Allen handed her a Kleenex. “Apparently it meant something to him. He’s upset I found the bracelet and gave it to you.”

  “I thought it was yours.”

  “I found it in his dresser while I was going through his clothes to give to Goodwill. I thought - oh, I don’t know what I thought. I assumed he meant to give it to me as a present, but forgot. I could have sworn he saw me wear it.”

  “Is he upset we gave the bracelet to Laurie?”

  “Allen, I’m not sure what he wants. Please, go talk to him.”

  Allen opened the door after a soft knock and poked his head in. His father sat on the bed, shoulders slumped, fingering a stack of neatly folded papers held together with string.

  “Dad? Can I come in.”

  His father nodded his head, but didn't look up.

  Linen curtains diluted the desert sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom. Allen picked up a small ottoman and sat in front of his dad. “If this is a misunderstanding about the bracelet, I'm sure we can fix it.”

  Mr. Harris continued running his finger along the light brown edges of the papers with his thumb. “Have there been problems with the building?”

  Allen frowned. “No, Dad. Everything's great. We need two or three leases and we're full. Why?”

  “That building has been nothing but trouble for this family.”

  Allen opened his mouth to answer, then thought better of it. Opening up to his father had never been easy. The ceiling fan whirred overhead.

  “I'm not sure what you're talking about, dad.”

  His father leaned forward. “You've seen them.” Mr. Harris held up the papers. “All the men in this family see them eventually, if they spend any amount of time there.”

  “Are you ready to tell me why? Why is that bracelet so important to you?”

  Mr. Harris tossed the papers in Allen's lap. Allen picked them up and saw they were brown with age, the folds yellow and heavily creased. Mr. Harris told Allen everything he knew about the building and where the bracelet came from. After he finished, Allen explained the visit from Father Eugenio and the house blessing.

  “It's been done before. Maybe some things can't be put to rest.”

  “I saw something right after Father Eugenio left.” Allen tapped the papers against one palm. “I have an idea.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his wife. “Laurie, you remember when you said how all that material stuff didn't mean anything to you?”

  11

  Hector wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt and stood back to admire their handy work. The office on the eighth floor of the Harris building held every piece of ghost hunting equipment Hector and Marcos owned: full-spectrum camcorder, laser grid scope, infrared camera, EMF meter, Digital thermometer, and a digital recorder to catch any Electronic Voice Phenomena.

  Most of the attention was centered around a silver bracelet with semi-precious stones laying in the middle of Allen's desk.

  After going 'lights out', Hector and Marcos settled down for an EVP session alternately asking questions and addressing Margarita by name. They didn't hear any responses, so they finished the session, and left the equipment running for the night, hoping to catch something.

  ***

  Time erased many things. She hung on to her name as long as she could, but eventually even that was lost in the snowy, black and white plane where she existed.

  She was aware of some of the other girls who worked on as if nothing had happened. Familiar sounds, smells, and sights would gather in a burst of activity. Then fade away. It was dull, repetitive, yet hypnotic. It took every ounce of will for her to remember why she was here. Why she waited.

  A brilliant silver gleam made her start. She gathered the fragments of herself around the most beautiful thing in the world and sighed.

  She lingered as long as she was able. Focusing took so much energy.

  She felt herself spreading out and becoming wispy when a presence, dark and blacker than the black and white plane she lived in, swirled close. Fear flicked across her consciousness as she was engulfed by its form. She was not alone. Hundreds, maybe thousands, wandered aimlessly in the oblivion with her.

  ***

  Allen removed the face plate of the wall outlet behind his desk and tucked the bracelet in the recess. After staring at the bracelet for a moment, he searched the desk and unwrapped the packet of papers. On a blank piece of paper, an old key had been taped. Allen removed the yellowed brittle tape and placed the key beside the bracelet. He screwed the face plate back on. He sat back on his heels and thought, I hope this helps you find some peace.

  ***

  Hector and Marcos sat at a long conference table in Scottish Rite Temple downtown analyzing the results from the paranormal investigation. They heard what sounded like a woman's sigh during the EVP session and forty minutes after they had left the building, the camera caught the sound and slight movement of the bracelet on the table.

  Five minutes after the bracelet moved, a black mass darted across the screen, Marcos looked at Hector. “What the hell was that?”

  Hector replayed the video several times, squinting hard at the screen before he replied, “I have no idea.”

  A shout out to:

  El Paso Ghost Tours at 877-GHOST10

  Paranormal Posse

  Paso del Norte Paranormal Society

  In remembrance of the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire victims. May they rest in peace.

  Excerpt from Amador Lockdown

  Chapter 1 - Once in a Lifetime

  Mother and daughter both stared at Eduardo Diaz, arms crossed, one hip stuck out and toes tapping an unhappy rhythm.

  “How could you be such a cheapskate, Eduardo? Your daughter’s quinceanera only comes once.”

  “Maria, I’m not being a cheapskate. Wait ‘til you see it, mija, it will be perfect for your quinceanera.”

  His daughter’s eyes filled with tears, “Dad!” Dalia turned and ran to her room. After a few seconds, he heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

  “Eduardo, I don’t care what favor you owe, but you are not using our daughter’s coming out party to pay it back.”

  “It’s not a favor. Oscar’s cousin rented the building for his daughter and he said it was great. They’ve fixed it up. There’s a huge main hall, a kitchen, restrooms and a large staircase Dalia can walk down. Just take a look first before you get all upset. We can always find something else if you don’t like it.”

  “No, we can’t. You waited too long and all the other reception halls are booked. We’d have to go to El Paso to find something now. I trust you to do one thing Eduardo, one thing.”

  “And I found a reception hall. It’s open, it’s available, and yes, I’m not going to lie, it’s at for reasonable price.”

  His wife slapped her hand on her thigh. “Cheapskate!” she said through clenched teeth before turning around and marching toward her daughter’s bedroom.

  ***

  A quinceanera, a special Hispanic tradition to celebrate the transition from a young girl to a young lady when she turned fifteenth, took months of planning. The morning began with a Thanksgiving mass. Her Godparents presented her with a locket necklace. Nestled inside was a picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe. A bible and a rosary set, both decorated with a porcelain quinceanera picture, were also presented. Afterward, Dalia left her bouquet of flowers at the feet of the Virgin Mary. Then family, friends, and relatives all drove to the center of Las Cruces for the reception at the Amador Hotel.

  Eduardo held the door of the limo open. He ma
rveled at Dalia's beauty and gracefulness as her hands in long, white, satin, elbow-length gloves gathered up the voluminous, white, lace folds of her dress decorated with baby-blue roses. She stood four and a half inches taller with the crystal tiara balanced delicately on top her thick, black hair. The tiara displayed the number fifteen in the center of a heart with five feather shaped crystals shooting out at the top.

  Eduardo escorted her inside. The small hallway lead to the main hallway, sixty feet long and two stories high. At one end stood a grand staircase that lead up to one level and then branched to the left and right with a short flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. At the other end stood a parlor decorated with old-fashioned sofas and a large fireplace.

  Once inside, Eduardo turned Dalia over to the dama, young ladies, Court of Honor for the final preparations. The galan, young men, Court of Honor mingled, waiting for the festivities to begin.

  Long tables on either side of the main hall held boxes and bags of birthday presents for Dalia. The aroma of mole, barbacoa, arroz, frijoles, fresh tortillas of maiz and harina, and salsa with pungent cilantro made Eduardo inhale long and deep. He followed his nose to the end of the great hall and around the corner to the front entrance and lobby of the hotel. There was a kitchen off of the lobby where plate after plate of steaming food was laid on another long table. A wet bar with beer, liquor, non-alcoholic drinks and champagne for toasting was set up at the other end.

  In the lobby, a short flight of stairs lead up to a balcony, the railing all hand planked oak. On a table in the center stood the cake. The bottom of the three-tiered center cake was supported by pillars tall enough so a small fountain for decoration could fit underneath. The water was baby blue to match the roses on Dalia's dress. On either side of the center cake were two tiered cakes connected to the top by lace decorated steps. Each step held a doll, fourteen total, leading up to the doll on the center cake. A miniature version of Dalia. The dama Court of Honor would each get a doll to take home as a gift.

  Eduardo rocked forward as his friend, Oscar, slapped him on the back. “See, I told you this place would work out.”

  “If this is her birthday, what is she going to expect for her wedding?”

  “The moon,” Oscar slapped him on the back again. “Nah, this only happens once in a lifetime. Enjoy it.”

  Eduardo’s chest swelled with pride, as the photographer slipped in front of them and shot a picture. “Hey, get my good side.” The photographer snapped several more before working the rest of the room.

  A bell chimed to begin the ceremonies. Eduardo and Oscar along with everyone else filed into the main hall as glasses of champagne were passed hand to hand. Eduardo worked his way up to the front. He admired the Court of Honor assembled on the staircase – fourteen dama on one side matched by fourteen galan on the other. In the middle stood his daughter. A handsome, young, dark-haired galan climbed the stairs and presented Dalia with a heart-topped scepter on a satin pillow.

  Eduardo felt his wife slide her arm around his middle and give a gentle squeeze. He raised his glass. “A toast!” He coughed into his hand as tears threatened to overwhelm him. “It seems like only yesterday when we brought her home. Now here she stands, before all her family and friends, a young woman. I am so proud of you Dalia. This is your special day. Salud!”

  Applause and a chorus of “Salud!” echoed through the main hall.

  During the rest of the ceremonies, Eduardo coughed into his hand repeatedly to clear his throat and hide fresh tears. Dalia gracefully raised each foot, during the shoe ceremony, so he could trade her flats for two-inch heels. The ceremonies ended with the presentation of The Last Doll. A symbol of her last childhood gift, because after this day she would be considered a young lady.

  The waltzes that followed were an important event since Mexican tradition stipulated girls do not dance until their fifteenth birthday or quinceanera. Eduardo gazed through watery eyes as Dalia danced with each of the galan.

  The photographer had been weaving in and out among the guests, but now, Eduardo noticed the photographer rubbing his eyes and cleaning the lenses on the camera repeatedly. Eduardo frowned and started to intercept him to find out what was wrong when the family waltz began followed by the general waltz.

  After all the traditional waltzes were through, the live band and DJ kicked in for the real party. All the young adults and children danced while the adults drank and ate. This special, once-in-a-lifetime event didn't officially end until the next morning where there would be a recalentado, or re-heating, of leftovers at the Diaz’s house for anyone who wanted to join them.

  ***

  Eduardo was startled when Maria stormed into the kitchen and dropped a large envelope in front of Eduardo’s bowl of menudo. “Ruined!” He took in her face, realizing she was on the verge of tears. “Almost all of the photographs taken by that relative of yours are ruined!”

  Eduardo maneuvered the envelope in front of him and dumped the pictures on the table. He started to thumb through them faster and faster as photo after photo held swirls of mist floating around the people in the photographs.

  At the Court of Honor picture, the most important one of the day, the galan and dama were lined up on either side of the staircase all smiling and happy. His eyes moved up to his daughter's beaming face and sparkling crystal scepter and tiara. The priceless moment frozen in time by the photographer. Everything so perfect, except for the towering, black mass floating directly behind his daughter.

  From the same author on Feedbooks

  Devil of a Ghost Tour (2010) Lynn and Lee Hoyt decide a local ghost tour would be a fun date night. In an abandoned hotel on the tour, a demon and his minions have been waiting for just the right couple to come along. Can the ghost hunters, Hector and Marcos, save them before it's too late?

  * * *

  Cube (2011) Luke's family isn't perfect, but they're worth saving. How far would you go to save your family?

  * * *

  Playing with Fire (2011) Welcome to Playing with Fire, anthology of horror, volume I.

  Scare easily? Are you often frightened out of your sleep? Does the mere mention of ghosts prickle your skin?

  These seven author's imaginations are fired up by the scariness of the unknown.

  Find a comfy spot, sit back and enjoy nine tales to tickle your taste for terror.

  www.feedbooks.com

  Food for the mind

 

 

 


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