by Cindy Winget
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dr. Montague asked.
“Yes. I’m sure. Like you, I am a man of science. This is your chance to see what would happen. This is unprecedented territory. Isn’t this what you were seeking by coming to Hill House? A chance to study the afterlife. I’m giving you a golden opportunity to step into a realm of science that is unheard of. Take it,” Valdemar implored. Dr. Montague remained silent. “Come on, my friend. You can’t tell me that you aren’t at least a little intrigued by the notion that death could be suspended by hypnosis.”
Dr. Montague smiled. His friend knew him so well. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Valdemar smiled in return. “Thank you. Please hurry. I feel it may soon be too late. I have postponed it long enough.”
Dr. Montague nodded and sat down in a chair beside the bed. “I want you to relax and concentrate on something in the room. An object on the table, a picture on the wall, anything. Just pick something to focus on and don’t let your eyes wander.”
Valdemar did as he was instructed, choosing a small statue of a young girl herding geese. He stared fixedly upon the knickknack, located on the bureau across from the bed he lay in.
“Now, I want you to clear your mind,” Dr. Montague told him. “Think of nothing but the sound of my voice.” He used soft, soothing tones, drawing out the syllables. Lucky for him, people who had been mesmerized before were generally easier to mesmerize again. “Let my words wash over you. Everything here is safe and peaceful. Let yourself sink into the bed as you deeply relax. Your eyes may feel heavy and want to close. That’s fine. Let your body sink naturally down as your muscles loosen. Listen to your body and my voice as you begin to feel calm.”
Valdemar’s eyes closed and his breathing deepened.
“Good. Continue to breathe deeply.” Dr. Montague demonstrated by taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it back out. “Fill your lungs with life-giving oxygen.”
Valdemar took a deep breath.
“And slowly let the air out of your chest, completely emptying your lungs.”
Valdemar exhaled. His eyes began to dart around beneath his eyelids.
“Let your eyes relax. If you need to, open them and once again focus on the object before you or a space between my eyebrows.”
Valdemar’s eyes remained closed, but they stopped their fluttering movements.
“Now, I want you to concentrate on relaxing every part of your body, one at a time. Starting with your toes. Relax each muscle. Now relax your feet and ankles. Feel the muscles lighten and loosen, as if they require no effort to maintain them. Then work your way up to your calves and then your thighs.”
Dr. Montague was interrupted by Valdemar’s fit of coughing. Valdemar’s eyes flew open and he took in a rattling breath, coughing once more. When it passed, he sat wheezing for a time. “Sorry,” he apologized.
Dr. Montague shook his head. “It’s okay. Let’s try it again,” he said in the same slow, soothing tones he had been using through the entire exchange. “Relax each muscle separately and take deep calming breaths.”
Valdemar did so.
“You can feel your eyelids growing heavy. Feel free to close them.”
Valdemar blinked a few times before allowing his eyelids to drift closed.
“Let yourself slip deeper and deeper into a calm, peaceful trance. You can feel yourself relaxing now. You can feel a heavy, relaxed feeling coming over you. And as I continue to talk, that heavy relaxed feeling will get stronger and stronger, until it carries you into a deep, peaceful state of relaxation.”
Dr. Montague used Valdemar’s breathing and body language as a guide to his mental state. He quickly scanned Valdemar’s body for signs of distress or alertness. The eyes were no longer darting. The toes weren’t tapping or wiggling. The breathing was deep and organized, not shallow and irregular. Good. He appeared to be completely calm and relaxed.
Dr. Montague continued, “Every word that I utter is putting you faster and deeper into a calm, peaceful state of relaxation. Sinking down, and shutting down. Sinking down, and shutting down. Sinking down, and shutting down, shutting down completely. The deeper you go, the deeper you are able to go.
“Imagine yourself standing at the top of a staircase. Take the first step down in your mind, and feel yourself sinking deeper into relaxation. Each step is a step further into your subconscious. You step down the second step and feel yourself getting calmer and calmer. When you reach the third step, your body feels as if it’s floating blissfully away…” He continued to guide Valdemar down each of the ten steps.
It worked! Valdemar was mesmerized.
“Please state your name,” Dr. Montague implored.
“Ernest Valdemar.”
“Good. Tell me how you feel.”
“I feel…I feel…cold. I am dying.”
“Continue to tell me how you feel a few minutes at a time so that I may assess—”
“I am dead.”
“What?” Dr. Montague sat up straighter in his chair.
“I am now deceased.”
“You are?”
But the hypnosis was supposed to delay Valdemar’s death. Dr. Montague walked up to his friend and placed two fingers to the man’s neck. Hmm…he felt nothing. He placed the same two fingers to Valdemar’s wrist but could find no pulse there either. Looking closely at Valdemar’s chest, he saw no movement. It remained still. No sign of inhalation or exhalation. He placed his hand to Valdemar’s mouth, palm out, but felt no breath. Valdemar’s skin looked even paler than it had before and was already growing cold to the touch.
How was this possible? If Valdemar was truly dead, then how was it that he was able to move and speak?
Valdemar opened his eyes and stared at him with unblinking eyes, making Dr. Montague feel uncomfortable. “What do you feel?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.
“I feel nothing,” was Valdemar’s reply.
“Nothing? Nothing at all?”
Valdemar shook his head. “I don’t feel cold any longer. But neither do I feel warm. I don’t feel the breeze coming from the window.”
Dr. Montague glanced towards the only window on the far side of the room and saw that it was indeed open, the thin, blue curtains blowing in a light breeze. He turned back towards Valdemar. “I want to try something. Close your eyes.”
Valdemar did so.
“Tell me if you can feel this.” Dr. Montague walked up to the bed, pulled the covers off of the man’s arm and ran a finger lightly from his wrist to his inner elbow. “Anything?”
Valdemar shook his head.
“How about now?” Dr. Montague did the same thing again, but pushed with more force.
Valdemar shook his head once more.
“Hmm…interesting,” Dr. Montague murmured.
“Sir, there is a guest waiting for you in the front parlor,” came Miss Dudley’s voice from behind him.
“Don’t call me sir,” said Dr. Montague without turning around. “Tell whoever it is that I’m busy and to come back later. In fact, nobody should be here at all. I have rented out Hill House for three months.”
“She claims to be your ex-wife, sir…er…Dr. Montague.”
Dr. Montague raised his head at this. He had entirely forgotten that Annabel was supposed to arrive today. “Tell her I’ll be there shortly.”
With a slight bow, Miss Dudley left the room.
“Go,” urged Valdemar. “I’m okay.”
“Don’t leave this room. For the moment, stay here. I will come check on you once she is settled.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do. I have my book,” Valdemar told him, picking up a copy of The Great Gatsby.
I’ll be fine? The man was dead for goodness sakes!
“F. Scott Fitzgerald,” Dr. Montague read off the cover. “Never heard of him. Is it any good?” He swiped the perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand, which trembled slightly.
“It ju
st came out. I am not that far into it yet, but I like it so far.”
“I’ll check in on you a little later,” Dr. Montague repeated.
“Yes. Yes. Get out,” Valdemar commanded with a smile. “I actually feel better than I have in a long time. I am not struggling for breath or feeling nauseous or anything adverse of any kind, so stop worrying about me. I’m dead! What more could possibly happen to me?”
Valdemar let forth an unnerving cackle, disquieting Dr. Montague and causing him to think quite the opposite. It was true that Valdemar’s physical body was dead, but could his mind still yet come unhinged?
He would ponder about this later. With a last glance in Valdemar’s direction, Dr. Montague left the room, being sure to close the door behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
“Thank you for coming, Annabel,” said Dr. Montague, a slight waver in his voice, as he entered the front parlor where his ex-wife sat upon the rose-colored couch, flipping through a fashion magazine. She wore a low-waisted yellow dress and a cloche hat over her familiar finger-waved hair.
“I wouldn’t normally, but I could tell how badly you needed my help.”
Dr. Montague was pretty sure she was joking, but even so, he found the comment galling. “Well, let’s get you settled in,” he said, attempting to stop his hands from trembling. “Step right this way. I found a small bedroom just off the dining room I think will suit you just fine.”
“I would like to be placed in the most haunted room of the house.”
“But Miss Dudley has already cleaned this other room.”
“Surely she is capable of cleaning another. That’s her job, isn’t it?” she said, placing a hand on her hip.
Dr. Montague was grateful that Miss Dudley wasn’t in the room to hear Annabel’s statement.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather get some real rest during the night and save the paranormal experiences for during the day, when we can all be together and safe?”
“Nonsense! I don’t worry about being safe. I have conducted a dozen séances and not once did I feel truly threatened. Now, which room will I be staying in?”
“Well, the first time we felt anything supernatural was a cold spot in the doorway of the nursery, but there have also been—”
“Wonderful. I will stay in the nursery.” She stood from the couch, picked up her luggage, and stepped around him. “Which way is it?”
Dr. Montague reluctantly took her to her new room where he was surprised to feel that the cold spot was back.
“Yes. This will do nicely,” Annabel said as she walked into the room, seemingly unconcerned with the discernible temperature change. “Tell your Miss Dudley about the change and have it cleaned by the time I’m ready to go to bed.”
Although the divorce had been her idea, and he now knew the reason thanks to Valdemar, in that moment he was relieved that he no longer had to deal with Annabel’s exacting personality. After being away from it for two years, having it thrust upon him in such a manner made him realize how much less stressful his life had become since Annabel left him.
“Now, in which room should I perform the séance?” Annabel asked.
“Séance?”
“Yes. That is why you brought me here, isn’t it?”
“No, I brought you here because I felt, or rather Valdemar felt, that I could benefit from your seeming expertise on the matter. But let me be clear. This is to be a scientific experiment that I am conducting here at Hill House.”
“Oh, John, you are too pragmatic at times,” Annabel trilled. “You can’t communicate with the paranormal world with mortal tools. You must use supernatural means to contact the supernatural.”
“Séances. Ouija boards. Voodoo dolls. It’s all superstitious nonsense!” said Dr. Montague, tugging at his beard.
Ignoring him, Annabel said, “Wait a minute. Valdemar told you to call me? He’s here?”
“Yes.”
Annabel’s eyes brightened. “Take me to him. I would love to see him.”
“That may not be a good idea, right now.”
“Why not?”
Dr. Montague hesitated. He couldn’t very well tell her that it was because Valdemar had died, despite the fact that he could still move and communicate. He said simply, “He’s sick.”
“Well, all the more reason. I can provide him with comfort.”
“He had just fallen asleep when I left to welcome you to Hill House.”
“Oh, alright,” said Annabel. “I’ll catch up with him later then.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Dr. Montague said, “Let me introduce you to my three assistants.”
After helping Annabel deposit her luggage in the nursery, he walked down the hallway toward the small sitting room they all seemed to like best, turning once to make sure that Annabel was following.
“I have three. Two women and one young man. You’ll like them,” he assured her.
Dr. Montague was relieved when he entered the room and found that all three of his assistants were there. Luke sat in the lone chair while Theo and Eleanor sat talking quietly together on the couch.
“Hello, everyone. I would like you to meet my wife…er…my ex-wife, I mean, Annabel.” He could feel his cheeks redden.
Pretending not to notice, Theo was the first on her feet, introducing herself to Annabel and welcoming her to Hill House.
“What brings you here?” Luke asked, cutting to the chase.
“I am here to help you with your research and experiments. In fact, we are going to conduct a séance this very night.”
“Is that so?” Luke gave Dr. Montague a questioning look, one eyebrow raised.
Dr. Montague cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that remains to be seen, although Annabel seems dead set on it. Why don’t we all gather in the dining room. Miss Dudley will be ready with lunch soon.”
As they all gathered around the table, Dr. Montague took the opportunity to inform Miss Dudley about the change in bedrooms for Annabel. She didn’t look happy, but merely nodded. As Dr. Montague piled mashed potatoes and gravy onto his plate, and was about to grab a drumstick, he heard Theo ask, “So, Annabel, how did you become interested in the paranormal?”
Dr. Montague and Annabel exchanged glances.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Theo was quick to say, “should I not have asked? If it’s personal, you don’t need to tell me.”
“No, dear, it’s alright. John and I had a child, Peter, who passed away a few years ago. He caught pneumonia. Ever since then, both of us have been a little more…aware, that there may be forces in this world that we do not wholly understand. I wished to make contact with my dead son and have done all I can to make it happen.”
“And did you? Make contact?” Luke inquired.
“No. I have held many successful séances, but my dear Peter never attended any of them. But that doesn’t prevent me from continuing to try.”
“I thought that the Society for Psychical Research proved that most séances were fake,” interjected Dr. Montague.
“That’s true, but I still have hope. I have seen things that even the SPR can’t explain away. Just because there are a few charlatans out there, doesn’t mean that every supernatural phenomenon is faked.”
Theo was looking down in her lap at this point, disengaged from the conversation.
Dr. Montague leaned towards her and whispered, “Are you okay?”
Theo looked up. “Huh? Oh, yes. I’m fine.”
“Hope you all saved room for dessert,” Miss Dudley said as she walked in holding a delicious looking pie. The smell of apples and cinnamon filled the room. Dr. Montague’s mouth instantly filled with saliva. He loved homemade pie and he hadn’t had any since he and Annabel split up. She also dished some vanilla ice cream and placed it on top, for those that wanted it. Once the desert was served, Miss Dudley left the room, presumably on her way to clean the nursery for Annabel.
When everyone was finished, Annabel said, “Shall we retire to a different room for the
séance?” Turning her attention to Dr. Montague, she asked, “Is there a particular room that you know of where a ghost may be present? I hope the nursery isn’t the only haunted room you have discovered thus far; it would be much too small to conduct the séance.”
“Well, let’s see. One of the former residents hung herself from the spiral staircase in the library. We could hold it there.”
“Excellent. I will gather my things. Will you find a round or oval table and place it in the library?”
Dr. Montague relayed these instructions to Mr. Dudley and gave Annabel directions. Then he and his three assistants walked to the library to wait. Within a few minutes, Mr. Dudley was there setting up the table and bringing in five matching chairs.
“Thank you, Roderick,” said Dr. Montague.
Annabel appeared not long after, holding a folded tablecloth, a few candles, a box of matches, a planchette, and a piece of paper. She piled the items onto one of the chairs and Dr. Montague helped her spread out the tablecloth. She lit the candles and placed them strategically around the table.
“Will you please turn off the lights on your way out, Mr. Dudley?” she asked.
Roderick nodded and upon his retreat from the library, the room was plunged into darkness, but for the small glow from the candles.
Annabel placed the piece of paper and the planchette in the center of the table.
“Okay. What will happen is, I will attempt to contact the dead and ask the ghost some questions, mainly yes and no questions as those are easiest for apparitions to respond to, and the answer will be written on the piece of paper by the planchette.”
“I’ll also be voice recording the session,” Dr. Montague interjected as he walked to the side of the room. He had set up a phonograph record earlier. He placed the needle in the groove and set the cylinder to the beginning. “Perhaps it will pick up something we don’t hear during the séance.” He called Mr. Dudley back to the room and asked him to turn the hand crank while they performed the séance. The cylinder he used would only last four minutes, so Dr. Montague hoped that if there was a spirit lingering in this room, it would manifest quickly. The cylinder was quite susceptible to temperature changes, and he worried that it would break before anything could be recorded.
