by Tony Martin
“Let’s gather around the dining room table,” he said.
The group filed silently into the dining room, taking seats around the massive table. Precious took a seat at the head of the table.
“We need to talk about what has happened in the last half hour,” he said.
Precious began, telling of his positive EMF reading, and the subsequent photographs. Al passed his camera around, and everyone viewed the orbs he’d captured. Bethany and Lydia shared of their sighting of the spectral light, and Christine and Meredith reiterated their experiences. Precious checked his watch, and his journal – he’d been furiously jotting notes.
“It seems,” he said, flipping between pages, “that everything we’ve experienced happened almost concurrently… beginning with my positive EMF reading upstairs, then with Lydia and Bethany’s sighting and Meredith and Christine’s experience, with the tactile sensations and the lady’s cries.”
“W-what about that lady?” asked Christine. She struggled to keep her composure.
“I have no idea,” said Precious. “Do you have your digital recorder with you?”
“Right here,” said Christine, passing it to Precious.
Precious pressed the BACK button, watching the digital time counter. “You started recording at – let’s see. Nine-fifteen?”
“I think so,” said Christine.
Precious worked in silence, then: “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He pushed the PLAY button.
The group heard thumping and clattering with giggles in the background. Then, startlingly loud, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“Pretty professional, there, Chrissy,” said Jimmy.
“Shhh,” said Lydia.
The recording continued, Christine wincing at their absurd dialogue. Meredith’s recorded voice asked for silence. There was a clunk as Christine apparently placed the recorder on a hard surface. Then – silence.
After a couple of minutes of uncomfortable quiet, Jimmy said, “There’s nothing there.”
“We should at least be able to hear Christine call for Lydia,” said Precious. “We can – “
“Wait!” said Joshua. “Did you hear that?”
“Let me back it up,” said Precious, momentarily flustered.
There was no need. Over the faint background ambient noise recorded, the group clearly heard a woman’s voice. It sounded hoarse and distant, as though it were an echo. It lasted a couple of seconds, the words unintelligible.
“What --” Lydia began.
The voice became clearer; a phrase leapt out: “the shame.”
More silence. Another unintelligible phrase – a couple of beats – then: “with child. Abomination.”
The group, transfixed, all jumped when Meredith’s recorded voice cried out: “Chrissy!” And, seconds later, a female voice weeping. Christine and Meredith’s terrified voices poured from the tiny speaker, and clattering footsteps told of their exit. And all the while, the woman’s piteous cries cut through all other sounds – cries that eventually trailed off, as if the source were moving off into the distance.
Precious stopped the recording, said, “Let me replay that.”
“No!” said Lydia. “No, please.”
Precious looked at her, then reluctantly laid down the recorder. The group around the table looked toward Precious as though he was a shaman about to pronounce doom.
He surprised them all with a faint smile. “It’s not even midnight,” Precious said. “The most active time for manifestations tends to be between midnight and three a.m.”
“So, you wouldn’t consider this active?” asked Al, glaring at his cousin.
“Actually, Alphonsus, I’d consider this very active,” said Precious. “Makes me wonder what the rest of the evening might hold.”
“I, for one, care nothing about finding out,” said Jimmy. “I don’t think we need to be here.”
“Hold that thought a moment, Jimmy,” said Precious. “I’ll come back to that.” He paused and thumbed through his notes. He shook his head, bemused. “I feel you all need to know that I’ve conducted over fifty paranormal investigations, and I can’t recall activity this intense in such a short period – ever. I wonder what’s happening in this house.”
Precious turned to Jimmy. “So, do you think we need to leave? Are you feeling this is too dangerous?”
Jimmy glanced around at the rest of the group, trying to get a read. “Precious,” he said, “I will tell you what I think. I am convinced that, yes, there is something supernatural happening here.” Lydia gasped. He continued: “I don’t believe in ghosts, not by your definition, at any rate. I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I believe there is something here that is not of this world. I think the devil is at work here, in a way that I’ve never seen or heard of.”
“Demons,” murmured Al.
Precious sighed. “As I told you all earlier, I don’t believe demonic activity is behind hauntings. I will concede that your supposition is not unreasonable. But I can only tell you that, in my experience, I’ve never concluded – based on the evidence – that there were demons afoot.” He smiled. “But I have seen some mighty ticked-off spooks.”
Everyone laughed nervously.
“Back to my question, then, friends,” said Precious. “Do you think we need to leave?”
“I don’t think I can,” said Meredith. “I don’t need to. I need to be able to reclaim my home.”
Lydia started to protest, but Precious held up his hand. “Anyone else have any strong feelings one way or another?” He waited a moment for responses, then said, “Here’s how I think we need to continue. I think it’d be appropriate for any of you to leave who feel the need to – no shame, no guilt. You have to determine what’s best for you. For those of you who care to stay, we’ll adjust our rules a bit. I’ll leave the electricity on – no disappointment there, right? And, I’ll ask that we all stay together in one room for the remainder of the night, perhaps in the parlor. Between sofas and sleeping bags, we’ll fare OK for the evening. And, I won’t ask you to make periodic sweeps of the house, taking pictures or making recordings. We’ll simply stay together, hopefully get some sleep, and leave in the morning. Now, I will continue taking EMF readings, and will take the occasional photograph and recording. Any of you who stay are free to join me, but it will be your call.”
The group exchanged glances, then Jimmy said, “Christine, I’d like for you to go home.” He steeled himself for the inevitable response.
“Dad – I can’t leave Meredith here.”
“I’ll be here with her,” said Jimmy, intercepting Lydia’s glare.
“No, sir. If you stay, I stay,” Christine said. “I stay even if you don’t.”
Jimmy returned Lydia’s stare. “That’s your daughter talking.”
Precious looked around the group. “And what do the rest of you think?”
No one spoke at first. Then Al said, “Actually, I thought about leaving … but I don’t want to be the only chicken in the group.”
“It may just be you’re the only one with any sense,” said Joshua. “But, seriously, Precious – what is the benefit of any of us staying, even you? Haven’t we seen enough to know there is something going on? And what do we do next?”
“Selfishly, Josh,” said Precious, “I don’t know that I’ll ever have another opportunity to do something like this again. The Octagon, Winchester House, the Myrtles … Borley Rectory in Essex County , England … there have been some classic haunting over the years. In just a few hours, I’ve seen enough right here to think that this may be the most active property I’ll ever experience. I have to stay, and I need witnesses to verify what I’ve seen.”
“You sure you aren’t taking advantage of Meredith’s misfortune?” asked Al.
“I do so hope I haven’t given that impression,” said Precious. “Please forgive me if I have. In all the annals of hauntings, you’ll almost universally find that it is a place that is haunted, not a person. G
hosts just don’t attach themselves to an individual.”
Precious turned to Bethany. “Well, since it appears we’re all staying – Bethany, my dear, don’t we have some snacks?”
Chapter Sixteen - Margaret
The grandfather clock in the parlor chimed 11 p.m., its pendulum marking the seconds with loud ticks. Everyone had made sleeping arrangements; Joshua and Bethany placed their sleeping bags in one corner of the room. Meredith had rummaged through the downstairs bedrooms, finding bedding for everyone. Lydia and Christine had already claimed the sofas and were asleep. Al was asleep on the floor, snoring like a bear. Jimmy, illuminated in flickering blue, was watching Jay Leno, the TV volume muted.
Joshua and Precious had pulled two chairs together, as far away as possible from those trying to sleep. They’d been talking for almost an hour.
“You know,” said Joshua, “it’s something of a minor miracle that Al was able to pass your name along to me. I was at a point that I didn’t know what to do.”
“Mine is a specialized field,” said Precious. “There aren’t too many people out there who can do what I do with a straight face. And, as you can well imagine, there are a lot of outright frauds out there.” He smiled. “Makes those of us trying to make an honest living look bad.”
Joshua returned his smile. “I’d considered calling an old retired seminary professor of mine for some advice,” he said. “I knew Dr. Peterson told us in missions class he’d had some supernatural type experiences while he was serving as a missionary. He didn’t talk about it much, but what he did say – man, it stuck with me.”
“Peterson,” said Precious. “Thomas Peterson. You know, he’s the primary reason I dropped out of seminary.”
“Well,” said Joshua. “What a tangled web we do weave.”
“Kind of an ironic coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” said Precious.
“Yeah,” said Joshua. “I don’t mean to pry, but … my understanding is that the two of you had some sort of falling out.”
“It was nothing as dramatic as all that,” said Precious. “I’m amused that this has come up.
We disagreed on some of my extracurricular activities.
“When I was a student in New Orleans, this fascination I have with the paranormal had already taken root with me. I’d joined an amateur ghost-hunting group, and after hearing of some of his experiences on the mission field, I shared some of what I’d seen. I started out thinking it was harmless fun, but I saw enough for me to have to wrestle with my skepticism.
“Peterson is such a gracious gentleman, but he let me know in no uncertain terms that this was not the kind of activity a young ministerial student should be involved in. He believed that I was just opening the door to satanic influence in my own life, and that I should basically repent and put all that behind me.”
Precious paused and cracked his knuckles. Joshua leaned forward inquisitively.
“So, I dropped his class,” Precious continued. “I didn’t have anything against him personally. I just disagreed with his assessment of what I was doing.
“Soon afterward, I dropped out of seminary altogether. It was a shame, actually – I was only a few hours shy of having enough credits to graduate. Since that time, though, I’ve done enough independent study to qualify for just about any degree imaginable. And, through involvement in my church – well, you can see what I’m doing today.”
“How firm are you in your beliefs as to what constitutes a haunting – or ghosts, for that matter?” asked Joshua.
“Pretty strong,” said Precious. “I’ve shared my theology, so to speak, and I’ve given you my scriptural reasoning. Peterson would look at the same phenomena, and come up with a different explanation – and he’d argue from scripture, too. Truth is … I don’t think either of us has the market cornered on the truth. What I think we’d both agree on is that there is something that, throughout history, has presented itself in the form of ghosts and hauntings. I’ve shared as best I can what I believe to be true. Peterson would differ. Who knows? He may be right.”
Joshua was about to ask another question when he felt pressure on his shoulder. With a start, he saw that Meredith had walked over. She had leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder. She smiled at them both. Joshua could smell the scent of her hair.
“Is this a ‘boys only’ meeting?” she asked.
“Not at all,” said Precious heartily. “Please, pull up a chair.”
With a sidelong glance at Joshua, who simply nodded, Meredith took a seat with the two men. Precious, not one for dead air, said, “You seem wide awake.”
“I am,” said Meredith, “but I’m just about the only one. Look at my dad.”
Jimmy, still in front of the TV, had gone fast asleep. His head drooped forward on his chest. Meredith waved at Bethany, who waved back. Joshua met her eyes. She shrugged, and Joshua was relieved.
“So,” said Meredith, “what’s the hot topic for the evening?”
“We’re back to this whole theology of ghosts and hauntings,” said Joshua.
“I’ve heard that already. Boring,” said Meredith, giving Precious a wink. Then, suddenly serious, she asked, “So what exactly do you propose to do? I’d really like get back home – Bernadine and me both. I want to come back to a quiet house, just the way it was.”
“This is interesting, since you mentioned it,” said Precious. “The phenomena you’ve experienced in the last couple of weeks – is this the first time anything like this has happened?”
“It sure is,” replied Meredith.
“And – your parents, or other relatives. Did they ever mention any unusual occurrences?”
Meredith frowned. “Not that I know of.”
Precious seemed to be organizing his thoughts. “Meredith,” he said presently, “Didn’t you and Christine use a Ouija board?”
“Yes,” she said, bowing her head. “What have I done?”
“Probably nothing,” said Precious. “There are some misplaced values these days, though. These things are marketed as toys, of all things. Now, I know there are thousands of kids – adults, too – who have played with Ouija boards. But … there is some reason to believe that a Ouija board is very dangerous when used by someone who has no idea of what they’re tampering with, especially if they ask a spirit to give some sort of physical proof of its existence. Some would say that this even allows unwanted malevolent spirits to enter the physical world.”
Meredith looked as though she might cry. Her chin quivered. “Precious, we didn’t really do anything like that … but I thought I might communicate with my parents. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Well, my dear,” said Precious, “you weren’t thinking. But speak no more of this – what’s done is done. You acted in ignorance, that’s all, and out of a desire to have some sort of closure to your loss.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meredith said, one tear dripping off her chin.
Joshua reached over and brushed away the solitary tear. Meredith smiled at him tenderly. Should I have done that? He stole a glance at Bethany, who was engrossed in her own thoughts.
“We will speak no more of this,” repeated Precious.
“So,” said Meredith. “If you believe there really are ghosts in my house, and they are, like you say, departed spirits … who are they?”
Precious, without hesitation, said, “I think they are your ancestors.”
“What?”
“Your ancestors,” said Precious. “And here’s why I believe this. Your house has been in your family for generations. Your family members have been the sole occupants. And we have the singular incident of Bernadine, seeing the lady in gray, and immediately assuming it was you. Meredith – do you have any family photographs?”
“We have plenty of photographs,” said Meredith, “along with oil paintings. But I’ve never felt like any of my ancestors looked like me.”
“Do you think we might take a look?” asked Precious. “We might just find that your
great-great grandmother or someone resembles you – enough to fool Bernadine.”
Meredith stood. “Well, I suppose. Most of the family portraits are in the library, and there’s one shelf just full of old photographs.”
Precious, Meredith, and Joshua walked into the library. Bethany joined them, coming up behind Joshua and putting her arms around his waist. “Are you OK?” she whispered.
“Fine,” said Joshua. “We’re just going to look at some old pictures.”
Meredith, meanwhile, was pointing out several portraits. “Here you have our patriarch, Eleazar himself, along with his wife Patrice. Grim looking gentleman, wouldn’t you say?”
Eleazar was grim. He had a high forehead and tiny black eyes. Patrice had much softer features. Eleazar had on a ruffled collar; Patrice had on what looked to be a ball gown.
“Not the ideal dinner guests,” said Bethany.
“Probably not,” said Meredith. “Let’s see … these two young boys are Christopher and Pierre. Christopher always looked like a sissy to me.” She moved down a few steps. “Now, here are a couple of girls – these are Jacob’s sisters. Elizabeth Anne is here with her husband. She died in childbirth.
“Now, one odd thing,” said Meredith. “We don’t have a photograph or a painting of Jacob. Jacob was our Confederate solider, but for some reason there’s not even a photo of him in uniform – most all the men ‘had their image struck’ before they went off to war. Now, we do have a couple of good photos of Judith, his wife, and one really good photo of Judith, Jake, and Margaret, his two children. Right over here.”
Meredith paused in front of a large photograph in a gilded frame. She was about to speak when, abruptly, she took a step back. The blood drained from her face. She moaned.
“Meredith,” said Bethany, putting an arm around her shoulders, “what’s wrong?”
Meredith stared fixedly at the photograph. “Margaret,” she mouthed silently.
The group followed her gaze. “Lord,” Joshua whispered.
The sepia-toned photograph showed a young mother, flanked on either side by her children – or what should have been her children. Judith Dubose smiled down at the group from a space of over one hundred years, and her son, Jake, scowled with childish fury at the camera. But the image of Margaret Dubose was ruined. Margaret’s likeness was blurred and distorted; brownish water stained the photograph in that one area and ran down, streaking the frame. It was as though someone had singled out this one figure and covered it with damp filth.
