The Haunting of Pitmon House

by Michael Richan

  I wonder how long it’s been in there? she thought, as the microwave began to beep. Maybe a lot longer than I think. Maybe it’s been in there for years, even when I was young. Maybe before I was born.

  She pulled the plastic from her lunch and let the smell of the previously frozen food hit her nostrils. It looked a bit slimy, so she used a fork to stir things a little, blending the pasta into the sliced vegetables and the thin wedges of meat. I’ve got to stop eating this crap, she thought, sitting down with it and taking a bite. It was still too hot to eat. I say that all the time, but I keep eating it.

  As she shoveled it into her mouth, she had the odd thought of how the tasty crap she fed Sponge smelled better than the tasty crap she was about to swallow.

  ●

  “Ready?” Rachel asked, her finger over the button on her answering machine.

  “Just tell me, is it good news?” Eliza asked.

  “Well,” Rachel said, shrugging her shoulders a little. “Eh.” She pressed the button.

  The machine beeped, followed by Dixon’s voice. “Hello, Rachel, it’s me, Dixon. Listen, I’ve matched up that pattern. It’s from someone named Yessler. I think it’s an alias. The pattern has shown up a few times in the Midwest, but a lot in Europe, too. I identified it for someone about a decade ago, and they gave me an address for Yessler, which I’ll pass along to you. There’s no guarantee it means anything, but it’s a start at least.”

  Eliza listened while Dixon rattled off a street address in Middleton, a suburb of Madison. It was an older part of town, known for fancy mansions that housed the rich people of the past century. The machine beeped again, and Rachel looked up at her.

  “So, that’s the good news,” Rachel said.

  “The good news?” Eliza replied. “How is that any help at all?”

  “Well, normally, we’d track down this address and go from there. You know, hopefully find out something that leads us somewhere. That’s usually a good thing. In this case, however…” She paused.

  “What?” Eliza asked.

  “The address,” Rachel replied, beginning to pace back and forth in her trailer. “Not good. Not good.”

  “Not good? What, it doesn’t exist?”

  “No, it exists, it’s not that. I mean the place is bad.”

  “Bad? What do you mean, bad?”

  “This is the address of Pitmon House.”

  The name meant nothing to Eliza. She stared at Rachel expectantly. “So?”

  “And,” Rachel continued, “it’s notorious. You don’t go there. No one goes there.”

  “Why?”

  Rachel sighed. “You’ve never heard of it, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Well, it’s well known in gifted circles. Haunted. Not just normal haunted, dangerously haunted. Like, you can die haunted.”

  “Don’t tell me, after all we’ve done so far, you’re afraid of a haunted house?” Eliza said. “Seriously?”

  “I don’t think you’re hearing me accurately,” Rachel replied. “It’s not some abandoned house at the end of the street that the kids dare each other to enter. This place is hard to get into, and dangerous as hell once you do. People have died there; people who knew what they were doing!”

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that,” Eliza said. “You’re saying this is the solution for Shane, but we can’t solve it? We can’t help him? What do we do, then?”

  Rachel sat down next to Eliza. “I don’t know.”

  “Dixon mentioned the name Yessler,” Eliza continued. “You ever heard it before?”

  “No.”

  “He said it was connected to that address, the address you say is the Pitmon House. Do I have it right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Connected how?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Like, Yessler lives there?”

  “No one lives there, not anymore. It’s been abandoned for decades.”

  “Then Yessler used to live there?”

  “I don’t know!” Rachel said, becoming exasperated. She stood and walked into the kitchen. “I can’t just pull answers out of my ass!”

  Eliza bit her tongue. She could tell something was off with Rachel; the news from Dixon seemed to have extinguished her enthusiasm for helping her. Eliza felt no such dampening, however, and didn’t understand Rachel’s reticence.

  “You got me started on all of this,” Eliza said, choosing her words carefully. “You can’t just abandon me because of something that scares you.”

  “I’m not scared!” Rachel shot back. “It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  Rachel paused, looking around the kitchen as though she had misplaced something. “Listen, I’m not scared, alright? That isn’t it.”

  “Then what?”

  “I…there was…” She dropped her hands to her sides in frustration. “I can’t find the fucking lighter!”

  “Fuck the lighter!” Eliza said, standing up. “If you’re not scared, then what?”

  Rachel walked back into the living room, confronting Eliza. “You should be grateful for what I’ve shown you already! You wouldn’t even know anything about how Shane was infected or what did it to him if it weren’t for me!”

  It was another sudden change in Rachel’s demeanor, surprising Eliza. “I am grateful,” Eliza said slowly.

  “I never really wanted to get back into all this, you know! I just felt sorry for you, for Shane. I thought I could help. I don’t think I can any longer.”

  Eliza’s head was in a whirlwind, trying to understand Rachel’s sudden reaction. “What, you’re abandoning me? All this, and I have to figure out the rest on my own?”

  “It’s more complicated than you understand,” Rachel replied dismissively, turning to walk back into the kitchen.

  Eliza felt the confusion turn to anger. “That’s pretty condescending,” she said, and walked to the trailer door. She heard Rachel say “Eliza, wait,” as she slammed it shut behind her. She walked to her car, got in, and started it up. As she backed up so she could turn and drive down Rachel’s driveway, she saw the trailer door open, Rachel standing inside.

  Screw you! she thought, and stepped on the accelerator, kicking up rocks. If you don’t want to help, fine! Don’t help.

  She sped down the driveway, fishtailing a little. When she reached the main road, she came to a stop and took a deep breath. 1431 Hilltop Street, Middleton. I’ll go there myself. I was planning on going in to see Shane, anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  She drove slowly, trying to determine if the large brick wall to her right was the address she was after or not. When she arrived at a large iron gate, she stopped and got out.

  The sun had gone down, and there were streetlights farther down the road; here, at the top of a slight hill, things seemed dark. She walked up to the iron gates. They towered above her, reaching sharp, ornamental points. Embedded into the brick of the wall to her left was a metal plaque that read “1431 — Pitmon House.” Someone had hammered at the raised brass lettering with a rock, causing several dents in the name Pitmon.

  She stared at the house through the gate. It sat back from the street; a long cement walkway stretched from the gate to its front doors. She expected to see overgrown trees and bushes, and weeds poking up through the cracks in the cement, but instead she found it perfectly manicured. Someone obviously kept it up.

  Big red bricks had been used in the construction of the house, and it looked solid, like a bank. Large wings ran to the left and the right from the center section. Rising almost three stories, it gave the impression of a fortress. The front door was recessed beyond a porch, but she thought she could see stained glass in its window.

  She turned from the gate, examining the brick walls of the fence. They stood eight feet high and two feet thick, and were topped with more ironwork. As far as she could tell, the wall completely encircled the structure, heightening its sense of permanence and impenetrability.


  She knew she wouldn’t be scaling the walls tonight; they were too high, and she had no way to climb them. She glanced up and down the street; it was silent and dark, even at 9:30. The nearest house sat across the road, fifty feet down the hill. If she had the right equipment, she could scale the wall and get inside without being seen.

  Not tonight, she reiterated. If she was being completely honest, Rachel’s comments about the place had scared her a little, and she wasn’t sure that going in alone was the best idea. However, Shane looked even worse when she stopped at the hospital earlier, and she knew she had to proceed, even if Rachel wasn’t going to help.

  Well, now at least I have a sense of it, she thought, wondering if she should drop into the River for a moment and drift through the iron gate.

  What are my options? I either explore this place, or I try to dig up as much research as I can. Or both.

  She grabbed the iron bars with her hands, intending to hold onto them while she entered the River. They were cold and a little moist. She held on, and allowed herself to slip into the flow.

  She passed through the gate and drifted over the landscaped yard. After thirty feet she came to the porch. There were no cobwebs or signs of neglect; the thin wooden trim surrounding the brick looked freshly painted.

  She moved to the door, instinctively reaching for the handle before she remembered she didn’t need to open it. She stopped outside, looking at the stained glass that comprised its window.

  Something behind the glass moved, startling her. She stepped back.

  Instantly she dropped from the River, and she released her grip on the iron bars. “Whoa,” she muttered. “Maybe Rachel was right.”

  She returned to her car. Rachel’s protection, she thought. I need that if I’m gonna enter the house. Maybe I can get her to give me more of that stuff. I’ll have to talk to her tomorrow and see.

  She slowly drove away, beginning to regret walking out on Rachel. Rachel obviously knew more about the Pitmon House than she did, and she needed to know what Rachel knew. She resolved to apologize to Rachel the next day, and see if she could put things back on track.

  Even if she won’t go into the place herself, Eliza thought, I think I can get her to at least help, once she understands that I’m committed and she can’t stop me.

  She rehearsed what to say to Rachel all the way home.

  ●

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Eliza said, whispering to Rachel as she filled the fudge stand. “I was pissed.”

  “I understand,” Rachel whispered back. “Let’s talk during a smoke break, if Lois will cooperate.”

  Eliza made sure to pick up a couple of the tasks that Lois normally completed each morning, so that when they asked to take a smoke break together, she’d be in a good mood and give them the go-ahead. It worked, and Eliza found herself sitting on a bench with Rachel as she puffed away.

  “I drove by it last night,” Eliza said.

  Rachel pulled the cigarette from her lips, her mouth opening a little. She stared at Eliza as though she had plants growing out of her ears.

  “Are you crazy?” Rachel asked. “After what I told you?”

  “I have to pursue this,” Eliza replied. “It’s Shane’s life at stake. I can’t just dead-end this and pretend there’s nothing to follow up on.”

  Rachel softened her look. “I know,” she said, taking a drag. “I know, I know. I understand completely. It’s just me.”

  “Why?” Eliza asked. “What about this stops you?”

  Rachel paused. “Yeah, you’re right,” she replied, then looked up at Eliza. “I’m letting it stop me, aren’t I?”

  Eliza sighed. “Rachel, something’s going on with you. I wish you’d tell me what it is. If you’re afraid of this place, I get it. I understand.”

  Rachel dropped her gaze to the ground while she took another long drag on her cigarette. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “Me?”

  “Years ago, I was helping someone, just like you, just like I’m helping you now. He was young and gifted and had his whole life ahead of him.” She paused, caught up in the memory.

  “Yes?” Eliza asked, hoping it would gently nudge her to continue.

  “Let’s just say,” Rachel replied, “things didn’t go well. Actually, they went very bad. He was permanently hurt. I don’t know if it was my fault or not. At the time I was convinced it was, but as time has gone on, I’m not so sure. Even so, it was bad.”

  “Is that when you sold all your stuff?” Eliza asked.

  “Yes,” Rachel said, taking another puff. “I decided I wouldn’t have anything more to do with it; it was too dangerous. I stopped practicing, auctioned off all my things, and didn’t take a step into the River for almost ten years. Then this thing with Shane happened, and you looked so worried, so upset…I felt I had to say something, at least get you moving down the path to solving it. You had all this potential, and you seemed hardly aware of it.” She looked up, giving Eliza a weak smile.

  “And you did!” Eliza said. “You did get things moving! At first I wasn’t sure, but after seeing the ghosts in the exhibit, and Jack, and the Tapura, I get it now, I’m completely on board. I need to finish it. Shane’s getting worse, Rachel. I saw him again last night, and the skin on his face was starting to lose its color. It was scary. I’m far more scared of what will happen to him than I am of what might be in that house.”

  “That’s only because you don’t know about that place,” Rachel said. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so anxious.”

  “What choice do I have?” Eliza pleaded. “I have to pursue it, whether you help me or not. I understand that something went wrong in your past; I get it. But I really need your help right now. I need to know what you know. I need to know about Pitmon House.”

  Rachel sighed as she tamped out her cigarette. “I suppose it was a little unfair of me to start this all rolling and not finish it with you.”

  “Damn right.”

  “I’m not perfect, you know,” she said, standing up. “Relying on me might get you killed.”

  “It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

  A weak smile crossed Rachel’s face, quickly replaced by worry. “Let me make a phone call. Do you have a free evening?”

  “I can make it free.”

  “Good,” Rachel said, walking back to the gift shop. “I’m going to set up an appointment with someone. Goddamnit, I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

  “You are,” Eliza replied, following her. “You’re doing the right thing for Shane.”

  “We’ll see,” Rachel said. “I’ve done what I thought was the right thing before, only to have it blow up in my face.”

  “It’s on me,” Eliza said. “I don’t blame you, and I won’t. From this point on, it’s all on me.”

  Rachel didn’t reply as they made their way back.

  ●

  “So what’s this guy’s name again?” Eliza asked as she parked in front of a large rolling door in the industrial outskirts of Madison.

  “Granger,” Rachel replied. “He’s the foremost expert on haunted houses in the area. All the ghost TV shows use him to figure out locations to film in.”

  “Gifted?” Eliza asked.

  “You better believe it,” Rachel replied, getting out of the car. They walked to the door and Rachel knocked. After a minute it rolled up from the floor, exposing an older man wearing a pair of dirty overalls. Behind him was a large garage, filled with tables. Two desks sat in the back; another man was seated at one of them.

  “Rachel!” the old man said, smiling. “Long time!”

  “Hello, Arnie,” Rachel replied. “Yes, it has been.”

  The man behind the desk rose and walked toward them. Eliza was immediately taken by his size; he stood six foot four, and had a massive chest. As he approached, she could see a bit of a swagger to his walk, a signal of confidence that she found appealing. He had long white hair and a white goatee, and w
as very tan. He walked up to Rachel and gave her a hug.

  “You bugger,” he said to her. “Didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

  He released her, and she took a step back, blushing. “Nice to see you too, Granger.”

  “And who’s this?” Granger asked, turning to Eliza.

  “Eliza, meet Granger,” Rachel replied. “Granger, Eliza Winters.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Eliza said, extending her hand. Granger ignored it and she was suddenly wrapped up in his arms, pressed against him for a big hug.

  “We’re huggers,” Granger said. “Aren’t we, Rachel.”

  “You are indeed,” Rachel answered.

  Granger released Eliza. She caught her breath as she stepped back, sure that her face was red.

  “Robert?” Rachel asked.

  “Out,” Granger replied. “Might be back later. How ’ya been, Rachel? I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too,” she replied. “I meant to call, I really did.”

  “I wasn’t offended,” Granger replied. “I understand. Just glad you called. What can I do for you?”

  “Eliza and I could use some help,” she started.

  “Come over here and sit,” Granger said, motioning to two old sofas in the corner. They walked past tables; Eliza was expecting to see car parts, since the place looked exactly like a auto garage, but the items she saw didn’t bear any resemblance to cars. Banks of equipment lined the walls; she recognized a welder, but most of it was foreign to her. As she sat on one of the sofas, she realized they were bucket seats removed from old automobiles. They were surprisingly comfortable.

  Rachel began to relate the story of Shane, the object at The House on the Rock, and the patterns they had detected. When she got to the address in Middleton, she paused.

  “Don’t tell me,” Granger replied. “Pitmon.”

  Rachel smiled weakly. “Yeah.”

  “Well,” Granger said. “That makes it much, much harder.”

  “If it’s even possible,” Rachel replied.