The Haunting of Reindeer Manor

by Kevin Guest

After Amy had regained her composure, Anderson stood. “It’s time to go upstairs. I’ll lead. Fletcher, take the rear.”

  The group looked at one another but did not argue. Slowly they ascended the stairs. Suddenly, Anderson’s flashlight went out. He paused as the house began to creak. Their senses were in overdrive, expecting anything to happen. Fletcher quickly wound the old flashlight and passed it forward. Anderson nodded at him, then continued.

  At the top of the stairs, they had four choices. There were two doors that stood opposite the railing, about twenty feet apart, and a door at each end.

  Mary whispered, “It did not look this big from the outside.”

  Anderson opted to skip the first door and instead open the second. Inside he found a marvelous bedroom, full of ornate furniture. Along the left wall, there was a single bed, obviously handmade, nearly twice the size of a standard king. On either side of the bed were old hand-carved bedside tables. Above the bed was a small but elegant chandelier. As Anderson held the light to the chandelier, the light bounced all over the room, softly illuminating it.

  The group walked in, astonished at the intricacies of the decorations.

  Anderson pointed the light at the ceiling. It was a hand painted mural of children and angels. Their faces were sad and their eyes seemed to follow the light.

  On the left side of the bed was a large passageway. He wandered in as the rest of the group followed.

  On the left and right were nearly identical opulent bathrooms. On the left was a white marbled bathroom with large shower. In addition, there was a bathtub built for two that more resembled a hot tub. The mirror above the sink was framed in gold and easily ten feet high. The other bathroom was decorated with black marble. The shower, tub, and sink all matched. Mary walked over and turned on the shower. The pipe wheezed and strained. At first, the water came out brown and cloudy, but quickly cleared up. It was warm and refreshing, “Well, at least something works in here.”

  The girls nodded their heads. They could go without electricity, but not without bathing.

  Anderson continued through the passageway that led to another bedroom of equal opulence. He turned. “Amy, Jessie, and Fletcher will take the first room. Mary and I will take this one.”

  The two girls looked at each other. Why would the professor want his secretary with him? Moreover, Jessie wondered why she had to sleep in the same room as Fletcher. She thought it would make more sense for the girls to take one room and the guys to take the other. Fletcher was having the same thoughts, though the idea of staying in a room with such young women was quite intriguing--if only for safety reasons, of course.

  After exploring the second bedroom, the group walked out the door. They were back above the living room, along the balcony. Amy looked concerned. To the left was another room. Anderson saw the fear on her face and decided it was worth a look. As he turned the doorknob, the door suddenly locked. He stared at it, intrigued. Again, he tried to open the door, but it stood fast, refusing to open. He handed the flashlight to Jessie, then rammed the door with his shoulder, but it refused to budge.

  Fletcher stepped forward, and together they rammed the door. It flew open and slammed against the wall. Inside, the air was old, still, musty, and damp. Jessie relinquished the light to Anderson and he scanned the room. It was a small and empty void.

  “I want to leave,” Amy stated.

  Anderson looked around the room. “Stand your ground.”

  In her head she heard, Get out. “Professor, we need to leave, now! It’s not worth it--please!”

  He ignored her. The voice continued in her head. Get out!

  Anderson wandered into the room and found a stain on the floor. It was pinkish in color. It looked as if the wood had absorbed some sort of liquid. As he walked over, the temperature in the room began to fall. He could see his breath extend out a foot or so. “This room contains something very special. There is energy at work here, an energy we must come to understand.”

  He knelt down and touched the stain. The wood was dry; only the dust from the floor covered his fingers. He smelled it, but nothing came to him. As he stood, he looked at Amy. Her face was ghostly white, as if she was in a trance, “Are you all right?”

  “It’s too late.”

  “What’s too late?”

  “We have gone too far.”

  He rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. The rest followed, but Amy was last. Before she closed the door, she looked into the darkness. “I’m sorry.” In her head she heard, You will be.

  Anderson walked across the balcony to the last room, just to the right of the stairs. Unlike the other door, this one gave him little trouble. Inside were props from the attraction. “A hundred thousand dollars and they forgot to check this room--ridiculous!” He slammed the door, but something was different. He could not explain it, but he felt confined, as if he were in a closet. He stood there as the others looked at him. He fought the sensation, afraid that if he showed any weakness, it would spread through the group and skew his data. A moment later, the sensation passed.

  Anderson nodded to the group and made his way down the stairs and into the living room. As Fletcher walked down, he lit a cigarette. “Well, if we’re going to stay here, we should find out if we can turn on the power, or at least contact the owner.”

  Mary nodded her head. “Yes, and retrieve our bags; they’re still sitting outside.”

  Anderson nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  After the group finished bringing everything in, Fletcher smiled at Amy. “Want to go for a walk?”

  Amy was once again reminded of her lost gift. Something in this house was purposely blocking her senses. However, she could not give it away. She looked at Fletcher, concerned about his intentions, but going for a walk sounded good. “Sure, why not?” The two walked out of the house and into the park.

  As they left, Jessie picked up an old dusty book on paranormal activity. “Doing some light reading, Professor?”

  “You might be surprised at the wisdom and knowledge old books can have.”

  As Fletcher walked outside, he threw down the butt and lit another cigarette. He then stood still and absorbed the warm sunlight. The house was so dark and damp, he actually felt as if his skin needed to dry off.

  As Fletcher and Amy stepped off the porch, they came face to face with the gallows. Though the platform seemed intimidating, to Amy, it was just dead wood. “It’s a prop,” she said, “nothing more.”

  They continued past the snack bar and walked out of the iron gate. They crossed the hayride road and entered the midway. Most of the booths were gone, but a few permanent ones remained. The midway was overgrown with grass and weeds. Yellow jackets and mosquitoes filled the air. They were careful to note which one they were slapping at.

  One booth, painted red and green, caught Amy’s attention. It was slightly leaning to the left and part of it looked burned. Her senses seemed to return. “There was an explosion here, sometime ago.” She closed her eyes. “Someone…did something. I cannot see it, but something was very angry. It wanted this person to leave, but they didn’t. Something always goes wrong for this person; they cannot seem to take a hint.”

  Fletcher just listened as he enjoyed his cigarette. He could not help but think, Could we take a hint?

  A moment later, they stood in front of the Dungeon of Doom. The door was padlocked and would not give.

  Fletcher tossed his cigarette on the ground. “Sure would like to look in there!” He pulled and pulled but the door would not budge.

  Amy shook her head. “The note said this was not a part of the history. We should leave it alone.”

  He laughed. “Who would know?” He looked to his left and noticed the exit. It was not a part of the building, but rather made up of walls of painted wood. It was lined with some sort of heavy-duty black rubber.

  “Fletcher—”

  He paid her no mind. He walked into the exit alone. Black sheets and pipes blocked his way, but he pus
hed them aside and continued.

  Amy sat down on a tree stump, waiting for the scream and the disappointment. Why couldn’t he just listen to her? She thought of all the people who brushed her abilities aside and walked right into stupid mistakes.

  As he turned the corner, a hanging corpse flew right into his face. He screamed and then laughed as the plastic dummy swung in the air. There were many corpses. Delighted, he wondered what horrors lay ahead of him. Cautiously, he moved forward, slowly. Finally, he made it to the front door, but it was locked. Disappointed, he walked out and found an angry girl waiting for him. “You know that was stupid. You really should listen to me.”

  Fletcher laughed. “Do you really think we will find anything here? This is all amusing for now, but soon we will be haunted by boredom.”

  She looked at him. Poor fool, she thought.

  They continued past the dungeon. Amy walked to the back of the ticket booth and opened the door. Inside she found a box of flashlights, each one working perfectly. “Looks like we have a bit more illumination.”

  Fletcher stepped inside and looked around. “A lot of canned goods in here.”

  As they closed the door, they realized they were mere feet from the Thirteenth Street Morgue. It seemed much bigger than the house, at least on the outside.

  In the manor, Anderson was setting up his computer and loading software. Mary was busy setting up monitors and testing video cameras. “Do you really think you will solve a mystery here?”

  Anderson looked at her. “I’m not here to solve a mystery. I am here to document an actual haunting and sell it to the world.”

  She thought about his answer. “So if you could stop the haunting, would you?”

  He looked at her with disdain. “You know that’s not what I do. Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

  “Because I would. I know exactly what would end it.”

  “What?” he said with disinterest.

  She walked over, wrapped her arms around him, and whispered in his ear, “Love, baby…sex.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “Hello, I’m in the room.”

  Mary smiled and returned to setting up the cameras.

  Though Jessie was just a bystander, there to witness anything that happened, she was becoming bored and hungry. “So, exactly how to you plan to use all of this equipment without electricity?”

  Anderson looked at her. “Everything runs on batteries.”

  She nodded, expecting a different answer.

  Anderson began questioning the intelligence that surrounded him. “What, you thought I had come unprepared? I am prepared for anything, my dear. This is not my first rodeo.”

  Fletcher and Amy stood in front of the massive barn door. It was slightly cracked, just enough for them to enter one at a time. Fletcher slid in first, then assisted Amy. Once inside, he played his flashlight around and realized he was standing in a theater. “Quite an unexpected find.”

  They covered their mouths with their shirts, as the musty smell was quite strong. The rainy season had come early that year and this leaky building obviously had not been aired out for some time. Fletcher set his flashlight down, then grabbed the massive barn door and pushed. The door groaned and creaked, but it slowly slid, allowing the light and the fresh air to enter.

  Amy played her flashlight around until she came to the center beam. She felt shivers down her back. She heard a strange sound, like a rope under pressure, straining back and forth. Without thinking, she said, “This is where he did it.”

  Fletcher looked at her. “Did what?”

  “I can feel him; he’s here. He feels lonely and isolated. In his mind, everything’s ruined.”

  He looked up, trying to see what she was describing, but nothing was there. “What are you talking about?”

  She walked forward, directly under the beam. “This is where James Junior hung himself, on that middle beam, right above me.”

  He could see the beam, but that was all.

  Amy walked toward the stage as she did her best to block out the negative energy.

  Fletcher ran his hand along the back one of the old seats. “I wonder what went on in this theater.” It was not impressively big. A single aisle, with seven rows of seats, led to the stage. The walls were once painted red, but now chips of paint lay on the wooden floor. Above them were the rafters of the barn. An old 1990s projector was mounted from the ceiling. “You think this is authentic?”

  Amy turned. “It’s not a theater; it’s a funeral parlor, or at least it was.”

  “Well, maybe in its heyday, but now it looks like a theater; that’s what I’m calling it.”

  The two walked down to the stage. The movie screen used by the Boy Scouts was mounted onto OSB boards, but they could tell the stage went back quite a bit farther. Fletcher felt the makeshift wall and found a hidden door. The hinges were painted matte black and could only be seen from close up. He pushed the door open to reveal the back part of the stage. He looked around for a ladder, but could not locate one. Instead, he hoisted himself up with his arms, then assisted Amy.

  As they walked in, they scanned the area with the flashlights. The backstage was actually full of life. Black jumping spiders were everywhere. They ran quickly from the light. As Fletcher and Amy trained the flashlights toward the ceiling, even more spiders were descending. Fletcher quickly batted them away, though Amy did not appear rattled by the little creatures.

  As the spiders scurried off, Amy’s attention was drawn to the floor. She pointed to a trapdoor. “There is more to be found down there.”

  Fletcher walked over and grabbed the massive handle. He pulled and it opened with relative ease.

  Amy stood back as her senses went into overdrive. “That’s not a happy place.”

  Fletcher said, “You don’t have to go down there.”

  She shook her head. “No, I am here to do a job. I cannot let my own emotions cloud my judgment this time.”

  Fletcher looked at her. “This time? You have done this before?”

  Amy nodded. “A long time ago, I abandoned an investigation and several people got hurt. I will not make that mistake again.”

  That bit of news did not give Fletcher much confidence. “Well, good. So, let’s see what’s down there.” He looked at her, then began the descent. Once he reached the bottom, he turned and looked at Amy. Her face was obscured by the darkness; the light coming from above made her look like a moving silhouette. Her hair seemed to glow in the light, and he tried not to stare. She was a beautiful young woman and he was the dashing young professor, or so he thought. He began to fight his impure thoughts.

  Amy could feel his thoughts, but decided, as she did with most people, to let it go without comment. However, since they were going to be together both day and night, she felt a bit of caution was warranted.

  Making small talk to ease his perverted mind, Fletcher asked, “Why did you choose this university?”

  “It was not a choice, it was where I belonged.”

  Amy stepped down and listened as the sound of her footsteps echo. As she looked up, she tried to limit her senses to the room. “This place is bad. It’s as if something unnecessary happened here…unwanted…undesired.”

  They shone the flashlights around, the light illuminating odd pieces of hardware. “It looks like an embalming room,” Fletcher said.

  They walked around, looking at the antique instruments. They lay on a small metal tray beside a table with a drain, ready to catch the last bit of humanity and flush it away. With her eyes, Amy followed a series of chains to the ceiling. There she could see the underside of the stage. “This must be where they brought up the bodies for viewing. Odd setup for sure.” As she further scanned the room, there were racks that contained half bottles of fluid. She could not tell what they were. On the opposite side, old sinks lined the walls, some with papers on them. Broken tiles lay around the base of the walls while other tiles held fast.

  Fletcher walked around and fou
nd an old wooden door. “I wonder where this goes.”

  Amy walked over to him. Together they pulled the heavy door open, revealing a long tunnel. Their flashlights could not penetrate the darkness. “I wonder how far it goes,” she said.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  They slowly walked down the narrow corridor. It was cool and damp. The light from their flashlights struggled to extend out more than five feet.

  Fletcher reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, “This place gets more interesting by the moment.”

  Suddenly they heard a door slam. They turned, and the light from the morgue was gone. Quickly they ran back to the old wooden door, but it would not budge.

  “We’re trapped!” Amy began to cry as she beat the door, begging to be set free. Her senses completely blocked, she had never felt so vulnerable.

  Fletcher put his hand on her shoulder and Amy snapped, “Don’t touch me!”

  He backed away. “Calm down. We need to get out of here. No one’s going to hear us from here, so let’s continue forward; there’s bound to be another way out.”

  She looked at him, worried he was going to try something. “Walk, then, and I will follow.”

  Jessie was bored and tired of watching the professor and his secretary flirt. She thought, At least he could take his wedding ring off! She decided to go out to the snack bar and see what she could find. As she left, she heard the conversation in the living room die down. Perverts, she thought.

  As she exited the house, she reached around to close the door, but it seemed to close on its own. She paid it no attention, as her hunger was growing by the minute. She walked over to the snack bar and entered. It was exactly as she expected, just a basic snack bar with a microwave and small stove. However, her eyes lit up when she saw the soda fountain. She grabbed a cup and filled it with ice and soda. One cup at a time, she relished the tasty drink.

  After her sugar fix was satisfied, she discovered a large assortment of pots. After some digging, she located spaghetti and sauce, as well as other grocery items. She thought, No one’s said anything, so spaghetti it is. She put the pot on the stove and boiled the water. As she made dinner, she continued to delight in the soda fountain.

  Fletcher and Amy slowly walked down the narrow corridor. Their senses were on high alert, ready to react to anything. It seemed as if the tunnel went on forever. It was nothing but dug-out dirt, reinforced with wooden arches.

  Amy’s concerns with Fletcher disappeared and she grabbed his arm tightly. If anything were to jump out, she would quickly use him as a human shield. Fletcher felt her warm body pressed against his. He was not sure who or what closed the wooden door, but this was a great benefit. Amy became so terrified due the loss of her senses that it was becoming hard for her to walk forward. Fletcher held her tight and guided her.

  After a few minutes, the lack of oxygen was becoming apparent. “We have to move faster,” he said. Amy nodded her head, and though she felt as if she was moving faster, she wasn’t.

  Anderson and Mary had slumped to the floor in a long kissing spell. She looked deep into his eyes. “When are you going to leave that old bag?”

  He looked away. It’s not possible, he thought. There was no way he would give up his wife for her. The scandal alone could cost him his chair at the university. He turned back around and looked deep into her eyes. “We’re together now; let that be enough.”

  Mary wanted to respond, but she decided to wait, to bide her time. “If you would, please massage my feet.”

  Anderson repositioned himself and took her feet into his hands. He gazed into her eyes as he rubbed. She looked back. “Silly man, do it how I like.”

  Anderson smirked, then slipped her big toe into his willing mouth.

  Mary leaned back in delight, both at the feel of his lips and the thought of his wife kissing the lips that sucked her toes. A moment later she reached over and picked up her phone. As Anderson continued to suck her toes, she snapped a picture, though he remained unaware of it.

  Jessie finished the spaghetti and felt a bit queasy after drinking nearly seven sodas. She grabbed the big pot and hoisted it off the stove. The weight was too much and it hit the floor, splashing searing tomato sauce onto her face, causing her to scream violently. The sauce burned, and she quickly dashed to the sink. The cold water brought sweet relief, but the damage was done. In a small mirror on the back of the door, she could see the wounds. She sighed and hoped they wouldn’t scar.

  Moments later, she grabbed the pot and lugged it into the house. Though it was dark, the small amount of light coming from the electronics in the living room was enough to light her path. As she entered the living room, she rolled her eyes when she saw the professor making out with his secretary. “Ahem.”

  The two broke off their passion and Anderson looked quite embarrassed to be caught. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” After straightening himself up, he pulled her aside. “I would not report on such things if I were you.”

  She looked at him. “How do I know the house is not having an adverse affect on you?”

  “Because it’s not,” he scolded.

  Jessie rolled her eyes as she lugged the spaghetti onto a hard case sitting on the floor. “Well, we have no table and no chairs, but here’s dinner.”

  Anderson responded, “Well, actually we do. Across from the snack bar are rows of picnic tables and chairs. That’s where we will dine, smartass.”

  After hauling the massive load of pasta in, she was not about to carry it out. “Fine, you want it out there, you can carry it!” Jessie walked out of the house and over to the snack bar to further indulge in the soda fountain.

  As Anderson and Mary were leaving, they noticed the bookshelf moving. They stood fast, listening and watching it turn. Suddenly Amy and Fletcher emerged. Anderson looked at them. “And where the hell did you two come from?”

  “Hell,” Amy said sarcastically.

  Fletcher nodded his head. “There is a passageway that leads from the morgue to this house. It runs under the midway.”

  Anderson’s mood instantly improved. He walked over to inspect the bookshelf. “What a perfect thing to have! It’s so classic!” He searched up and down for a trigger to open it, but there appeared to be no locking mechanism. He pushed the shelf back and felt something engage. He tried to open it, but it would not budge. “How did you get it open from the other side?”

  Fletcher looked at him. “There was a door a handle.”

  “Then the locking mechanism is either at the top or bottom.” He began pulling on the books until one gave resistance. He smiled, pulled, and the door swung open. “Amazing. It has to be a counterweight system.”

  Amy was less impressed with the door and more concerned with the spaghetti. “I guess that’s dinner.”

  Anderson turned. “Yes, why don’t you take it outside to the picnic table?”

  Fletcher rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “I’ll take it.” He watched as Anderson and Mary left the room. He shook his head, then grabbed the pot and followed them. Amy stayed and looked around the room. She felt disconnected and worried. A moment later, she joined the rest.

  Jessie was outside; she had set up paper plates and utensils. Fletcher heaved the pot onto the table and together they dished up the supper. At each setting, Jessie had provided soda.

  Anderson sat at the head of the table, the rest on either side. “I want to begin a watch.”

  Fletcher looked up at him. “Fine, who goes first?”

  “I will, along with Mary.”

  Figures, Jessie thought.

  “Though there are five of us, no one is to monitor the equipment alone. One of us will have to pull double shifts. Since it is my project, I volunteer for the first night.”

  How noble of you, Fletcher thought.

  Jessie glanced at the house. “When was it built?”

  Anderson looked at her. “Sometime in 1915. It’s the second house to occupy this land. The first
one burned down after a lighting strike. The family never made it out of the house.”

  “Weird—”

  “But not just that, Reindeer Manor is built strangely. The house is made of materials that will not burn. The interior is loaded with flammable materials today, but in its time, Mr. Sharp wanted to be sure that the tragedy of the past would not revisit the future.”

  Jessie was quite interested. “What do you know of Mr. Sharp?”

  “Well, from the stories and research done, he was a prominent businessman. He was an oil pioneer and part founder of the Sharp-Hughes Tool Company in 1908. Howard Hughes had patented a roller-cutter bit that dramatically improved the rotary drilling process for oil rigs. After Sharp’s death, Howard Hughes went on to own a motion picture company. There is no telling what would have happened to Sharp, had he lived longer.”

  Jessie could not let him stop there. “So what did happen to his estate?”

  “His widow, Estelle Sharp, sold her fifty percent in the company, and it was renamed the Hughes Tool Company. Estelle decided not to take up residence in the house and instead gave it to her eldest son, James Junior, who turned the majestic house into a prosperous farming and ranching venture. He even bred horses for harness racing.”

  “Go on,” Jessie prompted.

  “Well, by 1929, James Junior had turned the property into a wealthy estate. He added several buildings and employed quite a few workers. However, when the stock market crashed, his investments were wiped out. Soon after, he was unable to pay his bills. Subsequently he and his wife lost faith in God, feeling they were being punished—”

  “Not much faith there,” said Amy.

  Anderson smirked. “Yes, well, in a revolt, they turned to the occult, believing only they had the power to change their fortunes. They invited strange guests to stay at the house, particularly in their bedroom. They held séances to lift the Sharp family curse, which they became obsessed with. In any case, that’s all you need to know.”

  Jessie prodded on. “Why? Why will not you tell us the rest?”

  Anderson put down his fork. “Because if I did, I could endanger this investigation. Ask no more questions of me on this subject.”

  Fletcher looked at Anderson. “Well, Amy sensed that James Junior hung himself in the barn.”

  Anderson looked at him with disdain. “Told you that, did she? Well, so much for an honest investigation.”

  “Lipstick on a pig,” Fletcher said.

  Anderson eyed him. “What do you mean?”

  “The house is exactly as it is; the decorations, the show; the attraction, and your deception--that’s the lipstick. The pig is what you’re looking for.”

  Amy stared into the ground. “You’re not going to have to look far.”

  Anderson looked at the group, “No more questions. We are doing this my way, understand? Your ignorance on what happened out here is a part of my strategy, now eat and shut up!”

  After dinner, the group cleaned up in silence. There was a bit of tension after Anderson’s rude behavior. Before returning to the manor, they retrieved the box of flashlights from the ticket booth. Each took a flashlight. The daylight was fading fast and Anderson was eager to get his first watch going.

  Amy, dusty and dirty from exploration of the morgue, decided to take a shower. Using the flashlight, she walked up the stairs. She avoided looking at the door at the end, worried that the voice in her head was more than her imagination.

  She walked into her room and closed the door. Though there was no power and the flashlight was her only means of light, she felt safe. It might be a false sense of security, but she would take it as long as she could get it.

  As she entered the room, the light from the flashlight illuminated the walls as she played it around. The dust in the air seemed almost motionless, as if frozen in a photograph. She moved her hand through the light and the dust fluidly moved out of the way, but came to rest shortly after.

  She set the flashlight on the dresser and trained it over to the bed. As she walked away from the light, her shadow got bigger and bigger. She looked about the room, opening herself up to the spirits, only to make sure she was truly alone.

  Once she was comfortable, she slipped the tight-fitting shirt off and her hair flopped over her face. As she laid the shirt on the bed, her senses became even more attuned to the surroundings. She thought, The last thing I want to do is run out of here half-naked. She carefully walked to the door and placed her ear upon it.

  Down below, Mary and Jessie were setting up the electronics as Anderson and Fletcher watched the monitors and displays. Anderson logged the time and location as each device came online.

  The last room to be serviced on the first floor was the chapel. As they entered, they did their best to avoid looking at the horrid displays. Jessie kept repeating a Bible verse in her head. ‘Though I walk through the shadow of death.’ She sighed, “This is the shadow of death.”

  Though her instincts were to look up, she fought them, but the chapel was not just horrid at eye level. As she set up the camera, in the last pew she saw a book. Though her mind told her no, she had to see what was in it. She picked it up and blew off the dust: Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence. What an odd find, she thought, a work of classic literature in such a foul place. She opened the book and turned a few pages. “Published in 1928.”

  Mary walked over. “What did you find?”

  Jessie held the book up. “Seems a bit out of place.” She continued to flip the pages until she came to a bookmark. A small arrow was drawn next a particular passage:

  Her tormented modern-woman's brain still had no rest. Was it real? And she knew, if she gave herself to the man, it was real. But if she kept herself for herself it was nothing. She was old; millions of years old, she felt. And at last, she could bear the burden of herself no more. She was to be had for the taking. To be had for the taking.

  As Jessie flipped further in the book, she found images drawn in the margins. They were pornographic and repulsive, but she felt compelled to look. They captivated her mind as she felt butterflies within her stomach. As she turned the pages, she found detailed notes, instructions to the reader, on how to act and what to say. She turned to Mary. “They acted this book out, like a play.”

  Upstairs, Amy removed her ear from the door. She slowly walked back to the bed, removing her bra and setting it on top of her shirt. Her senses were so tuned in, she could almost hear the hum of the flashlight as it displayed her silhouette on the wall. However, her extrasensory perception was still being blocked.

  As she finished undressing, she became less concerned with the spirits and more concerned about Fletcher. Something about that man was not right. She sensed his presence. He would here soon, almost on purpose, to claim an innocent look at her naked body.

  She walked over and placed a chair in front of the door. Almost on cue, the door handle turned and the door jammed against the chair. Amy held the chair firm as she could almost anticipate his words. “Are you o—”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes Dr. Fletcher, I’m fine. Please go downstairs. I am not dressed!”

  He walked away smiling. He was less interested in seeing her naked than in testing her abilities. If she were the genuine article, then she would only allow such a view on purpose. He was satisfied with her reaction. As he walked downstairs, he saw Anderson flustered.

  Amy, however, was not using her abilities. A girl’s instinct was what caught the near-peep.

  Downstairs, out of frustration, Anderson screamed, “Chapel!”

  “It’s on!” Mary screamed back.

  Anderson checked the monitor; it was on, but not showing video. He checked the antenna; it was on as well. “Turn it off and back on!”

  “Done!”

  The monitor did not flicker. Frustrated, he walked into the chapel. “Girls, go watch the monitors, please.”

  They rolled their eyes and returned to the living room. Fletcher was leaning against the wal
l, smiling at them. “Amy is the genuine article.”

  Jessie snarled at him. “You peeked at her, didn’t you? You’re such a perv.”

  “No, I was checking on her safety, but she blocked the door and I saw nothing. She knew I was coming, and I was sure to walk quietly to ensure it was a surprise.”

  Jessie did not believe him.

  Anderson removed the camera from its mount and walked into the kitchen.

  “Got it!” yelled Mary.

  Finally, he thought. He walked the camera back into the chapel.

  “Nope!”

  Anderson scratched his head and yelled, “Fletcher! Get a cable; something is blocking the signal.”

  Fletcher looked at the girls. “Are you playing tricks on him?”

  Jessie glanced at him. “Of course not.”

  His heart beat fast in his chest as she spoke. If he were going to peek at anyone, it would be her. Suddenly he thought, What am I doing? I have not thought of students in this manner before; why now? The immorality of it made him sick. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

  From the chapel he heard, “I don’t have all day!” He quickly retrieved a long cable and connected it directly to one of the monitors. He then fed it through the dining room, kitchen, and into chapel.

  Upstairs, Amy decided she was alone and would remain undisturbed. She walked into the bathroom and stopped. Four towels lay on a small seat in the passageway between each side of the bathroom. She did not put them there, nor did she remember them being there when they walked through before.

  She walked over and inspected them. After a moment, she decided to continue. She walked to the large shower on the left and proceeded to turn on the water. She was delighted that it got hot instantly. She walked over to the passageway and opened herself up one more time to the environment. The air was still and her nerves eased. She sighed, then returned to the shower.

  As Fletcher entered the chapel, he found Anderson staring at the pentagram. “Marvelous, isn’t it? How symmetric the lines are, perfect in form and symmetry. Look at how the lines of each cross over the next, as to draw your mind in. Within its lines lies a well of souls, and within that well are the worthy and the damned.”

  “Professor—”

  Anderson turned, dazed and confused. “What?” He shook off the feeling and walked back to the camera. Fletcher handed him the cable and he attached it. He yelled out, “Ok!”

  Mary looked at the screen. The snowy picture remained. “Nope!”

  Frustrated he grabbed the camera and walked into the kitchen.

  “Ok!”

  He paid her no mind. He walked into the living room and swapped out the camera for another. He looked onto the screen and validated the picture. “Fletcher!”

  Fletcher walked into the living room and retrieved the new camera. As he carried it into the chapel, the signal was lost.

  “Damn,” Anderson said. He walked back into the chapel and removed the setup. As he took the camera back into the kitchen, he heard, “Ok!”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” he mumbled. He pointed the camera at the door of the chapel. “This will get ya.”

  He and Fletcher returned to the living room. When they looked on the monitor, the door to the chapel was closed, obstructing the camera’s view. “Fletcher, go open the door.”

  As he went into the kitchen, the room felt cold. “There’s a temperature drop in here!”

  Anderson watched the monitors closely, but there was no activity. “Just open the door!”

  Fletcher walked over and grabbed the door handle. As he opened it, the screen returned to its snowy picture.

  “Damn!” Anderson was frustrated and curious at the same time. “Close the door!”

  Fletcher closed the door and the picture returned.

  There has to be some sort of electrical interference in that room, he thought. “Open it quickly!”

  Fletcher grabbed the door handle and flung it open. For a brief instant, there was an orb on the screen. Anderson smiled from ear to ear.

  The door handle flew out of Fletcher’s hand and slammed shut so hard it cracked. He dashed into the living room, where the three were huddled around the monitors. Anderson was searching the recording, but all that recorded was the door slamming. He filtered everything but the audio. A barely audible No came out of the speakers. He looked at Fletcher and smiled. “We got it!”

  Fletcher was less enthusiastic, being so close to the entity. “What was it?”

  “A ghost!”

  “What do we do about it?”

  “Do? Nothing! We wait, we record, we learn all we can and we hope for more!”

  Mary and Jessie were less enthusiastic. They were each questioning what they had gotten themselves into. Sure, they were being paid, but what if this entity turned violent--what then?

  Anderson nodded to Fletcher. “Open the door.”

  Fletcher shook his head nervously.

  Anderson shoved him. “I said, go open the door!”

  He walked back into the kitchen. Slowly he stretched out his sweaty hand. As he touched the door, the ice-cold metal sent shivers down his spine. He turned the door handle, and the door opened willingly. As he did, the screen continued to broadcast.

  Anderson nodded. “Move the camera into the chapel.”

  Fletcher swallowed nervously. He walked over and picked up the camera with its tripod. He walked it into the chapel and set it down. Afterwards, he returned to the living room, thankful the chore was done.

  The camera was still broadcasting. Anderson flipped a remote switch and the camera went into infrared mode. Nothing happened. He flipped the switch again and it went into night vision mode. The picture became grainy, but the pentagram was visible, along with the upside down cross and the tops of the pews. The pentagram appeared to be wet.

  Upstairs, the hot water sprayed all over Amy’s neck and chest. It flowed gracefully between her breasts, down her torso, through her thighs, and out the drain. Her head was tilted back as she breathed in the heavy steam, unaware of the incident downstairs. Her thoughts dwelled on the room just down the hall. Was it really her imagination that told her to get out? Could it be that simple, or was something evil present?

  She reached over and turned off the water, then stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her head. As she used another one to dry off, the air got cold. She felt goosebumps all over her body. As she stood there, the small amount of light coming from the flashlight in the bedroom dimmed until she was in complete darkness.

  She stood there, terrified and motionless. She opened her mind to the spirits. “I will not harm you.”

  Suddenly something blew into her ear, and she screamed.

  Downstairs, Fletcher and Anderson heard her and raced up the stairs. As they burst into the room, the light returned from the flashlight. They found Amy slumped on the floor, crying. Jessie ran to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “It touched me.”

  Fletcher blurted, “Where?”

  Amy clenched her chest. “In my soul. For one moment, my body was not alone.”

  Anderson looked at Fletcher. “We need a camera up here!”

  Jessie scolded him, “Absolutely not! Put them anywhere you want, but not in rooms! I refuse to be recorded up here, is that clear?”

  Fletcher tilted his head to Anderson. This was one battle they would not win. The girls assisted Amy into the bedroom as the men left.

  Fletcher stood on the balcony as Anderson hurried down the stairs, then right back up again. He returned with a handful of equipment and quickly hurried to the next door over. “We can position these cameras and sensors to peer into the assistants’ room, but we must be quiet!”

  Fletcher rolled his eyes, but assisted the professor. As they positioned several cameras to monitor the room and to peer across the opening, Mary and Jessie continued to comfort Amy.

  Anderson was pleased. “I have pointed the directional microphone and laser sensors to o
nly detect what’s coming from that room. Let’s leave before we’re discovered.”

  After they were back on the balcony, Fletcher was quite concerned. “If we get caught filming students, the dean will do more than just fire us.”

  Anderson put his finger over his lips and whispered, “I’ve done this kind of slippery-slope filming before. Don’t worry, it will work out.”

  Fletcher nodded. “Ok, but what about your secretary? Perhaps the students can be fooled, but she knows your ways. Besides, the cameras in her room are out in the open.”

  Anderson smirked. “Let me tell you a bit about Mary. I got her right where I want her. She will not be any problem, at least for us—”

  As Anderson continued, Fletcher was detecting a change in the professor’s demeanor. He was becoming a bit more arrogant. He wondered if that was who he really was, or if the house was getting to him.