by Tony Martin
“Go sit down with Meredith,” said Joshua, gesturing to Bethany. She nodded. Meredith looked faint.
Precious, shaken himself, ran his index finger over the murky space in the photograph. He let his touch linger a moment on the damp canvas, before turning to Joshua.
“Joshua,” he said, his voice devoid of his usual cheer, “All bets are off.”
“What do we do now?” asked Joshua.
“We go back in the parlor, we wait until daybreak, and we leave this place,” said Precious.
“Wait,” said Meredith, rising, and avoiding looking at the photograph. “You still haven’t told me what you propose to do about what’s happening to me, to my house!”
“Let’s go back in the parlor,” said Precious, “and try not to wake the others.”
The four returned to the parlor, circling chairs.
“Let me try to organize my thoughts,” said Precious. “I’ve just had a nasty scare.”
“I thought you didn’t get scared,” said Bethany.
“I changed my mind a couple of minutes ago,” said Precious. He didn’t smile. “This is definitely a night for firsts. I won’t even begin to try to explain that photograph. But in a little while, I want to take some photos for myself, and get some EMF readings. And I want to leave a digital recorder recording the rest of the night in the library.”
“Precious,” said Meredith, “excuse me, but I need to know how you can help us.”
Precious visibly shook himself. “Fine, fair enough,” he said. “Ever since Ghostbusters came along, there have been countless quacks who have tried to semi-seriously tap into that craze. They’re as slippery as personal injury lawyers, and have about the same morals. They are worse than useless. I guess what you’re asking, Meredith, is how do we rid your house of these beings?”
“Absolutely.”
“As you know, the Roman Catholic Church has a ritual for exorcism – both of a person and a location. Now, since none of us is Catholic, I don’t think that’s an option. I don’t even think the church acknowledges they have a ritual anymore, and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want to trouble themselves with a bunch of Baptists.” Everyone chuckled.
“Throughout history, there have been all kinds of cures – talismans, amulets, charms, salt, and other things. It’s like garlic keeping away vampires, or a silver bullet killing a werewolf. Silver has been used in most every culture for protection against evil.” Precious snorted. “Superstition. Useless.
“We have religious methods to turn to,” Precious continued. “There are blessing. Prayers. Placing of religious symbols around.”
“I’ve always believed in God,” said Meredith. Joshua and Bethany exchanged glances. “Doesn’t that help?”
“It sure can’t hurt,” said Precious. “And there is one other possibility – we can ask the spirits to leave.”
“Come again?” said Bethany.
“Sounds too simple, doesn’t it?” said Precious. “But there are cases when people dealing with a haunting have simply asked the spirits to leave and not trouble them any more.”
“Ghosts, leave!” said Meredith, then smiled.
“It’s a start,” said Precious. “But – and you won’t like this – there is almost nothing, in all the annals of psychic research, that has been shown to be a sure-fire way of ridding a house of apparitions. A ghost is usually there before the current occupants, and tends to be there long after those occupants leave.”
“That’s not very encouraging,” said Meredith.
“There are plenty of accounts where a haunting has simply ceased,” said Precious. “It’s almost as if the spirit has accomplished whatever he or she set out to do. Now, we do have one thing in our favor – we’ve been part of an appearing.”
“What’s that?” asked Joshua.
“We – or at least, Meredith – have been present at the beginning of a haunting. It seems to have arisen spontaneously – and it can end just as abruptly. At least, that’s my hope.
“Here’s my plan,” Precious continued. “I’d like for the three of you to try to get a little sleep. Just at sunrise, I’m going to wake everyone up. Then, we’re going to gather in the great hall and sing some hymns. We’ll pray, asking God to protect Meredith, this house, and all who will ever live here. We are going to pray that God give peace to whatever entities are not at rest. And, in Jesus’ name, we are going to ask the spirits to leave.”
“Simple as that?” asked Joshua.
“Simple as that.”
“Why wait until dawn?” asked Bethany.
“There’s just a little extra symbolism there I think is appropriate,” said Precious. “It’s the start of a new day, a new birth. That just feels right. And … tomorrow is the equinox, the first official day of spring. I didn’t plan it that way, but it seems, I daresay, as if God is in it.”
“Wow,” said Meredith. Then she sobered. “And what if it doesn’t work?”
“We’re not even going to entertain the possibility that it won’t work,” said Precious. “I am handling this case much different than I would for people of no faith. We are all believers here, and I believe God will honor this. In other cases, I’ve told people that their only choices were to learn either to live in a haunted house, or simply to move somewhere else. I don’t think either of those are options for you.”
Meredith seemed uneasy. “No … no, they’re not.”
“So, friends,” said Precious, standing and gathering his gear, “I’m going to do a little wandering around. I still want to get some more readings, if possible. I’d encourage you all to get some sleep.”
“Easier said than done,” said Bethany as Precious left. She shivered. “I don’t want Precious to go around stirring things up playing Inspector Gadget,” she told Joshua.
Joshua barely acknowledged Bethany’s comments. He was watching Meredith arrange and fluff her bedding on the floor next to Christine. She caught Joshua’s eye and smiled. She’s so fragile…and so pretty, thought Joshua, then, ashamed, gave his attention to Bethany.
Bethany was looking at him sadly. “When this is all over, we are going have a long talk,” she said, and left Joshua standing alone as she lay down on her sleeping bag.
“Your mom and dad are doing what?” asked Peter Battaglia.
Mark Tracy grinned, as only a fifth grader in possession of a dire secret could. “Mom and Dad are on a ghost hunt,” he said in a stage whisper. “They’ve gone with the preacher out to the Dubose mansion. Christine, too.”
“That place is definitely creepy,” said Peter. “So that’s really why you’re spending the night with me.”
“Yeah,” said Mark. “I’m not supposed to know about any of this. I guess they think I’m deaf or something. I’ve heard them talk.”
“So does Brother Josh believe in ghosts?” asked Peter.
“He must,” said Mark, “or else he wouldn’t be going through all this trouble. Meredith Dubose has been staying at our house, and she’s been acting weird. And I know that Mr. Al has a cousin who’s come here from New Orleans who’s supposed to help them.”
“So do you believe in ghosts?” asked Peter apprehensively.
“Naah,” said Mark. “There’s no such thing.”
The two boys talked a while longer before finally drifting off to sleep. But Peter didn’t go to sleep immediately. He kept seeing shadows in his bedroom, heard noises from the hall, and wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not.
Peter knew he’d have to ask his parents what they believed about ghosts. He now knew his pastor believed in ghosts … and he wondered what his mom and dad would make of that bit of information.
Chapter Seventeen – The Attic
Precious McRae placed his digital recorder on the desk in the library. His intent was for it to record for the remainder of the night. While he didn’t relish the thought of having to review hours of recordings, he didn’t want to risk missing anything.
He looped the strap of one
of the digital cameras around his neck, and switched on the EMF detector. While he knew that with the electricity on to the house he stood the chance of picking up electromagnetic artifacts, he felt that his previous reading upstairs was powerful enough to offset any background radiation.
Stealthily, Precious made a circuit of the library. The EMF meter’s gauge twitched a couple of times, but there was nothing definitive to record. He paused long enough to make an entry in his journal, then walked into the great hall.
The great hall was fully lit and decidedly normal. Precious retraced where Joshua, Jimmy, and Christine had seen the wet footprints, sweeping the EMF detector before him in slow arcs. He walked to the back door, looked out over the lawn, and out toward where they’d seen the ignis fatuus, spectral light. Nothing.
Precious recalled that for the last couple of hours the camcorder had been silently taping the great hall. Checking his watch, he realized that the tape had already run out. He went to the camcorder, retrieved a blank tape, and was about to replace it when a thought struck: the camcorder had caught the whole series of events occurring soon after nine p.m.
He checked the time imprint on the camcorder, and rewound the tape to nine p.m. The tape showed an empty hall, a stygian black space tinged with an otherworldly green glow. Precious smiled, pleased with the night vision capabilities of his equipment.
Using the fast forward and rewind controls, Precious set about previewing brief segments of tape. He saw Bethany and Lydia leave through the back door to make photos. He could hear the men clomping and clattering around upstairs at times.
There were a few moments of tape showing the empty hall. Then –
A sudden flash of light illuminated the great hall. Precious, taken aback, blinked in surprise, then rewound the tape a few seconds.
He saw the same phenomenon again. And, as he watched, awestruck, he clearly saw two human figures on the staircase, captured on tape.
The figures were those of a man and a woman. The woman wore a long dark dress, and she was backing down the stairs, her back to the camera. A few steps above her was a much older man, wearing a dark cutaway jacket, riding boots, and walking with a cane. He seemed to have difficulty negotiating the stairs. In the greenish glow of the night vision recording, each figure was outlined with an unholy nimbus.
Precious had to will himself to breathe. The man and woman reached the foot of the stairs, she continuing to back away from the man as he limped toward her, forcing her into the middle of the great hall. Precious looked away from the recording long enough to take one quick glimpse of the hall before him, as though to confirm that what was recorded wasn’t happening even now.
As he watched, the man brandished his cane at the woman as if to strike her. She cowered, staggering back a few steps. Then, to Precious’ amazement, the two figures froze, as if in a tableau. The whole image shimmered, as though he were seeing it through water, and the two figures faded from sight, leaving a faint greenish glow in their wake.
Precious waited a moment, then, trembling, reached to stop the tape. As he reached, he staggered back as if physically struck.
A face loomed into the viewing screen. It was the face of a young woman, inches from the lens – a woman with hair in ringlets and wearing a dark, broad-brimmed hat. Precious saw that the woman had black orbs where her eyes should have been. And, just as suddenly, the woman turned and rushed toward the door to the library, disappearing through the open door. Seconds later, the camcorder registered Meredith’s scream.
Precious, shaken, forced himself to rewind the tape. He froze the frame in which the woman appeared. In wonder, he realized that he was staring into the face of Meredith Dubose. He recognized her high forehead, the set of her mouth – but the eyes were not hers. The eyes were soulless, dead, unseeing.
His mind reeled. Precious thought that he had to compose himself, that he needed to write his observations in his journal, that he needed to be professional – but nothing he’d experienced had prepared him for this. In one evening, in one home, he’d catalogued more paranormal activity than most investigators would experience in a lifetime. The detached, clinical part of his mind fairly teemed with the possibilities of presenting his findings to his peers, even to the public at large. But, he realized suddenly, he himself was afraid, and perhaps he should wake the rest of the group and take them away from the Dubose mansion.
Precious willed himself to be calm. He replaced the tape in the camcorder with a blank tape and began recording again. He took a handful of photographs of the great hall, concentrating on the staircase. Then, feeling his nerves settled enough for him to put words on paper, he took his equipment and his journal to the breakfast room to organize his thoughts and observations.
The breakfast room – indeed, the whole house – seemed blessedly quiet. Precious opened his journal, and was amused to note that his usual neat, cramped handwriting sprawled all over the page.
He started writing, and a bizarre memory struck him. He was reminded of the last scene of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? In that scene, the residents of Toontown gathered to celebrate the end of the bad guy, Judge Doom. What Precious remembered was the excitement he’d experienced at seeing all his favorite cartoon characters from childhood – Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Pluto from the Disney cartoons, and Bugs, Daffy, Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam from the Warner Brothers cartoons – all together on the same screen for something like a curtain call. Something about seeing all those beloved friends together at last thrilled him.
Now, here he was at the Dubose mansion, and in one evening, he’d experienced more than he could’ve ever imagined. He’d recorded unmistakable Electronic Voice Phenomenon. He had photographs of orbs. He’d seen spectral lights. He detected vigorous EMF activity. Others had seen apparitions, experienced tactile sensations (he shivered, remembering Meredith describing feeling something brush her ankles), and everyone in the group had moved from skepticism – if they were indeed skeptics – into believers in paranormal phenomena. The only thing missing, thought Precious, was rattling chains.
Precious furiously jotted his impressions of the group. Joshua was at that “I believe, but I don’t know what to believe” stage. Bethany had been more skeptical than not, but she had seen an apparition of the woman and the spectral light. Jimmy and Lydia entered into the situation committed skeptics, but now, they had to believe something. Al was simply afraid – he reminded Precious of Don Knotts. Bethany was all wide-eyed wonder, as any teenager would be. And Meredith, who in some fashion seemed to be the nexus of all the occurrences – and who may, conceivably, “stirred things up” by her unwise use of a Ouija board – was more of a victim than anything else.
Meredith was also the subject of something akin to possession, and this was troublesome for Precious. He could not fully accept the possibility of demonic activity – it wasn’t because he didn’t believe in Satan and demons, but he’d long since discounted that theory of hauntings. This was the one variable that didn’t seem to match up, and Precious realized that he wouldn't be able to figure out this one.
Precious was convinced that the female apparition was Margaret Dubose. It seemed almost too obvious. Margaret Dubose had drowned tragically in a cow pond behind the house – and Precious noted that the spectral light was seen in that area … he needed to ask Meredith if she knew the location of the old pond. There was the matter of the wet footprints, another link. And there was the startling resemblance of the apparition caught on tape to Meredith herself.
What Precious couldn’t begin to explain was the unspeakably eerie occurrence of Margaret Duboses’ figure from the family photograph being washed out with filthy water – the hair on the nape of his neck prickled as he thought about it. Nor could he identify the old man with the cane. The manifestations seemed to pile one upon the other.
He doodled in the margin of his journal, pondering these things. What Precious, nor anyone else in the house knew, was that as he sat at the table engrossed in his work, the door to th
e attic of the Dubose mansion opened, swinging on creaking hinges.
Joshua managed to doze off a little after midnight. Bethany had been asleep for some time. He did rouse himself briefly as Precious came in, trying to be quiet with limited success. Precious huffed and grunted as he settled himself on a quilt and a couple of blankets; Joshua’s last conscious memory before drifting off to sleep again was Precious’ vain and noisy attempts to get comfortable.
Precious awoke, his wristwatch alarm cheeping. Two a.m. He wanted to make a circuit of the downstairs and upstairs of the house with his EMF detector. The chore would take only a few minutes, he’d reasoned; he, too, recognized the need for sleep before a challenging sunrise.
Joshua stirred, raising himself up on one elbow. “What’s that?” he whispered.
“An alarm,” said Precious – even when attempting to be quiet, he was loud. “I’m going to make a lap through the house to collect data.”
Joshua sat up stiffly. “I’ll join you.”
“Suit yourself. Bring a digital camera.”
Joshua stumbled to his feet, fumbling for Bethany’s camera in the process. Bethany lurched. Her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Gonna walk with Precious a minute. Go back to sleep.”
Bethany rubbed her eyes. “Not likely,” she said, and turned over to face the wall.
Joshua stood and looked at her a moment, feeling a sick wave of guilt. He’d not done anything wrong, but at the same time felt he done everything wrong. He felt as though he’d betrayed the most important person in his life.
