by Carrie Bates
Both of her boys were thriving here. Even Kyle, who talked openly of their parents now, seemed to be moving forward into a healthier part of life.
There was one remaining problem, and that was Robbie’s accidents at night.
Sometimes he was fine, and she could hear him get up at night and go confidently down the hall to the bathroom. Other times, he called out in a voice that broke her heart. She'd have to open his door slowly so as not to scare him and wait while he used the bathroom.
In truth, Veronica hadn't seen any of the men for weeks. She'd just started to relax, really fully relax in her home, when she smelled it: that fetid stench that made her tense up, remembering the tight grip on her upper arm.
She was on the staircase when she smelled it. She turned slowly and looked up to the landing, where the shorter man stood with a strange whip held in one hand. It trailed down to the floor and drew her gaze when she heard a strange metallic clatter. Nails were driven through the leather. They were old and had clearly been sharpened. Almost all of them were darkened at the ends with what she could only assume to be blood.
Veronica braced herself against the railing. No one else was home – Kyle was working, the boys wouldn't be back from school for at least another hour. It was just her in the house with this man.
He took two steps down the staircase toward her and grinned when she flinched. His mouth moved as though he was talking, but she couldn't hear anything.
There was a possessive air about him that made Veronica shrink. She was torn between fear of the man coming toward her and horror that her son had dealt with seeing him, being assaulted by him, watched by him, at night – enough that he'd become uncomfortable in his own home.
"Get out," she stuttered, taking a step back. Her heel rocked off of the step, and she had to catch herself on the railing. The man's grin widened, and the nails dragged across the hardwood floor.
On the landing above them, Kyle's bedroom door slammed open. The man whipped around, one hand going to the pistol at his hip. He sneered as Esther appeared there, her braid coiled up high on the top of her head.
She was so obviously young that Veronica's heart ached for her in that moment. She could feel something between Esther and the man that made her gasp in horror; the young woman was clearly blaming him for something, and he seemed completely unrepentant.
Esther appeared suddenly next to him and shoved him up against the wall. They were almost exactly the same height. There was nothing young about her now, as she growled at her tormentor; she was ancient and terrifying. Veronica was grateful that Kyle wasn't here to see her – she knew that her brother only associated the ghost with sad sweetness.
The man's wrist moved quickly and a length of whip wrapped itself around Esther's forearm. She cried out silently, her body bending so that the man was towering over her.
Veronica was shoved over suddenly and barely caught herself against the railing. She knelt and stared up at the strange scene before her. A young man had joined the fight, a knife held loosely in his hand. He was handsome in a natural way. Even in pain, Esther looked at him in a way that made it clear they were soulmates.
The man didn't seem at all worried about his attackers. Instead, he jerked the whip, sending Esther to her knees and reached out quickly to wrap a hand around the young man's throat. The knife he held clattered to the floor.
Veronica felt dread run through her body. It was like she was losing everything all at once. Like this place was being lost all over again.
She thought of Kyle, on his knees in his bedroom, sobbing. She thought of her sons – of Tommy's innocence and Robbie's fear. The whole point of lugging her family here, hours away from where they'd grown up, was to try and give them a fresh start. She wanted her sons to feel safe and her brother to feel alive again.
That was how she found her strength. Watching the young couple struggle against something so clearly evil, out to suppress them, made her realize that she needed to fight, too. The fight wasn't just getting her family here, in this home. It was a fight for every single day – through the happiness and through the darker days.
She pulled herself up and grabbed Tommy's hockey stick on the way. Luckily, the house was littered with sports equipment, as the boys were just starting to come into their athletic interests.
Veronica shouted as a warning and swung, barely missing the young man as he flung himself back. Esther crawled backwards, her mouth open, eyes on Veronica. The braid had come undone and was spilling across her shoulders.
The hockey stick passed through the man's torso, and he seemed to struggle momentarily, losing focus. His eyes locked on Veronica's.
Before the fear could set in again, there was a warmth radiating from behind her. She felt it loosen the tension in her muscles, and her chest rose in a deep breath. She passed the hockey stick through the man again, moving even closer, putting her face right up to his.
The smell coming off him would have been overwhelming if it wasn't for the reassuring scent of sunlight and grass surrounding her.
"This was never your home," she said slowly and strongly, standing tall before him. "It's mine." She tilted her chin up, realizing that he came only to her nose. A sense of triumph flooded her as he seemed suddenly scared. His eyes moved from her to Esther, who was standing now, and the young man, who was next to her.
The man flickered briefly before disappearing.
Next to her, the young couple entwined hands as the air calmed. They looked at Veronica, inclining their heads.
She felt that this was theirs to pass on – their legacy.
Chapter Ten
Eventually, Kyle began classes at a nearby college, where he dormed and was able to catch a bus home on weekends. He was working at the college bookstore and saving up for a car – nothing fancy, just enough to get him from one place to another.
Veronica hadn’t heard from her ex, but it no longer stressed her. The boys didn’t ask for their father – luckily, they’d never been very attached to him. She was able to provide for her family the way she’d always wanted to, and she felt that she was in the place she’d always been meant to be. Even if that place was a house where ghosts still lingered around the corners and in the overgrown grass of the orchard.
“But there had to be a reason she did it,” Kyle said quietly one night as he and Veronica sat at the kitchen table. The boys were out with Craig – a guy she’d met who worked for the construction company that would be putting up the new houses on the open plots.
He’d traveled for most of his life, even though he was only a few years younger than her, but he took to the boys quickly and had mentioned a few times that maybe he wouldn’t mind staying in one place for a while. It wasn’t a promise, and Veronica knew better than to get attached, but for now, she was happy.
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Veronica asked, grinning at her little brother. I really need to stop thinking of him like that, she chastised herself. Kyle wasn’t little anymore, and he was doing better than she’d hoped for. He’d even mentioned a date later this week with a girl from one of his classes.
“Figured what out?” he asked, sitting forward.
When Kyle came home, he spent time mostly out at the oak tree or with the boys. He still had his old room, but it only had the bare essentials in there – they’d both decided, after the discovery of the grave and the talk with Mr. Bloomquist, that they could live with these ghosts.
Veronica tended to respect but ignore them, whereas Kyle sat out under the tree and talked whether Esther was there or not. He told her about college, which she probably wouldn’t understand, and about his parents. The boys thought he was a little crazy since it looked like he was talking to himself – now that things had calmed down, Ether seemed more comfortable and appeared less often. But she did like to wander around the four acres.
“You smelled warmth from the sun and dirt,” Veronica pointed out, still smiling at her brother. He waited expectantly. “Did it look like E
sther got much sun to you?” she asked pointedly, and Kyle frowned.
“No…I guess not. She’s usually wearing a hat when she’s outside, and her skin is pretty pale. I think that was the trend back then.”
“Exactly. So she’s the dirt. I mean, you’ve told me that her clothes are covered.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “So the sun must be from someone else, right? You haven’t seen him?”
Veronica wondered briefly if only she could see the boy, the same way that Kyle was the only one who could see Esther now. The boys had never seen her.
“You’re not talking about the guys…” Kyle started carefully, watching Veronica’s face for a giveaway. He was hoping that the two men hadn’t appeared again. Robbie hadn’t reported anyone lingering in the hall, but that didn’t mean they were still around.
“No, no,” Veronica reassured him. “I think they’re gone for good, now that they can’t smell the fear on us. There’s another one. A boy, near your age. He stays out near the apple trees, though.”
That’s where she’d first seem Amos, who didn’t have a gravestone. But he must have been buried nearby. He stayed out in the orchard and watched her pick apples for the pies in fall or prune the trees in the spring. They were filling out nicely with some attention.
“Do you think that’s why she did it then?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t think it’s that far of a stretch. Why else would a young girl kill herself on her wedding night? She must not have had a lot to look forward to. The boy’s handsome, but he definitely wasn’t anywhere near her social status.”
Kyle nodded and sat back, thoughtful.
“Well, it’s good then that they’re here together,” he said. “I don’t mind them staying.” He looked at his sister, realizing that it didn’t matter if he minded or not – it wasn’t his house. “Do you?” he asked.
Veronica shook her head. “Not at all. It’s going to be hard to explain when the boys get older, but we’ll figure that out when we get there.”
They both paused, listening to the sound of a car in the drive, doors shutting, and the boys shouting. The siblings smiled at each other.
“Looks like everyone’s home,” Veronica said as she stood to gather the dishes. She could smell the apple pie she’d baked earlier, the grass outside, and the warmth of Louisiana in summer.
Epilogue
Veronica couldn’t believe one year had passed since the terrifying encounter she’d had on the stairs with Esther, Amos and the foul-smelling short man.
Craig had recently proposed, and he and Veronica were planning a small wedding in 6 months. Craig loved the boys like his own and planned to adopt them.
Kyle was doing well in school and working in the admissions office, making more money than he had at the bookstore. He was dating Courtney, a pretty blonde, and was absolutely smitten with her.
The ghostly encounters had mostly vanished until one afternoon when Veronica was alone in the house, half asleep on the couch. She smelled the putrid smell and sat up, terror forming a knot in her stomach. She ran around the house, searching for the evil short man but never found him.
Thinking that she was tired and smelling the toast she had burnt earlier, she plopped back on the couch, eyes almost closing until she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Craig?” she sputtered, wiping her eyes with her knuckles and sitting up on the couch. No one was there.
“What the?...” Veronica stood up, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She felt her heart leap into her throat; something was wrong, terribly wrong. She let out a startled scream as she saw Esther’s reflection in the window. One solitary tear slowly rolled down her cheek, and then she vanished.
“Meow!” The sound startled Veronica, and she turned around quickly, tripping over the coffee table and landing face down on the floor.
Mr. Bloomquist’s cat came over to lick her face. “How did you get in here? Did Robbie or Tommy let you in before they left?”
She’d seen the cat a lot more than usual the last few days; perhaps, she’d better check on Mr. Bloomquist to make sure he was okay. She slowly got up off of the floor and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. As she looked in the mirror, a scream escaped; the putrid smelling evil short man was behind her.
When she turned to confront him, he had vanished. Am I just imagining this or is he back? Did he ever leave?
She didn’t know if she could live through this again. Why had he come back? Why wouldn’t he leave them alone?
“Meow!” The cat’s meowing brought Veronica back to the present. “Alright, girl, let’s go check on your daddy.”
She opened the door and the cat ran out, stopping to look behind her to make sure Veronica was following her. As they trekked about 20 feet into the woods, Veronica smelled an awful smell.
“I wonder what animal died in these woods?” she said to the cat. “What an awful smell.” Maybe it had something to do with the construction that was going on; she’d have to ask Craig when she saw him later. Maybe he’d have a suggestion to get rid of the smell.
Thinking of Craig, Veronica got a big smile on her face. She loved that man so much; he was her Prince Charming, something she had never believed in before. The boys loved him, too, and Kyle had let her know in the beginning that he was a big fan of Craig’s – and that he thought he was perfect for Veronica.
But Veronica’s smile soon turned to horror as she looked off to her right. There hanging from a tree was Mr. Bloomquist; he was caked with blood, and the flesh on his chest and back was ripped off, exposing his ribs.
On the ground underneath him was a leather whip with nails in. Veronica’s screams could be heard down at the construction site just before she passed out in a heap underneath Mr. Bloomquist’s body.
The End
The Haunting of Redding House
©2018 by Carrie Bates
All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.
Prologue
Redding House, August 5, 1937, Beaufort
It was Elizabeth Redding’s birthday, and the only person present to celebrate it was her daughter, Mary, who wasn’t at all in the celebratory mood. Mary was the only child out of eight who was single. Her mother had married all of her siblings off to wealthy performers and entrepreneurs. They were living the good life whilst Mary assumed the role of caretaker for her paralyzed mother.
Mary just wanted a simple life. She didn’t need for her husband to be an important aristocrat. But her mother only cared for social standing and would not allow her daughter to marry anyone who wasn’t the picture of wealth and fame.
Mary was in the kitchen slaving over her mother’s favorite dessert - sweet potato pie. Mary hated sweet potato pie. She hated the stringy texture sweet potatoes gave to the otherwise delicious treat. Mary was in the midst of mashing the blanched potatoes when she heard her mother’s bell ring. Given the fact that she was bedridden, Elizabeth was unable to get up to use the washroom, or really do much of anything, for that matter. Whenever Elizabeth required assistance of any sort, she rang the service bell. Some days, she rang it so frequently Mary wanted desperately to throw it out the window.
“Coming, Mother!” she called.
As she swept up the curved wooden staircase, she paused to admire a photograph of her father shortly before his passing. Mary’s father, William, built the stunning Redding house for his wife and children in 1889. Unfortunately, he did not live long to enjoy it. At the age of 57, William died of a heart attack, leaving Elizabeth alone to care for her eight children. Thankfully, the wealth William had acquired from his hugely successful bakery, not to mention the money he’d received as an inheritance from his parents’ passi
ng, helped the family tremendously. William’s brother now ran the bakery and had employed Mary as a baker. While she was working, Mary employed a live in nurse to care for her mother. On the weekends, however, Mary was her mother’s slave.
“Mary, Dear,” Elizabeth said from her position under the white cotton sheets. “Can you go to the post office and see if my package has arrived? I got a card from your brother, Eli, saying he sent me a birthday package.”
“Yes, Mother,” Mary agreed. Since marrying that flapper model, Nadine, Eli had been sending Elizabeth ridiculously extravagant gifts for her birthday. Last year, he’d sent her a pearl necklace. He was becoming pretentious.
“Don’t even think about meeting that Frank character!”Elizabeth barked as Mary turned to leave. Mary could have slapped her mother’s haggard face. She gritted her teeth and balled her hands tightly into fists.
“Yes, Mother,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
Frank Jones was the love of Mary’s life. He used to frequent the Redding Bakery while she was working. A refreshing slice of lemon meringue pie. That was his order. Frank would go into Beaufort to escape the heat of working with his father on a cotton farm in the summer. He was incredibly kind and incredibly hard working. Despite his age, Frank was responsible and mature. Mary fell in love with him for this reason. She had planned to marry Frank, but her mother did not approve of him. Mary would never forget the look of disgust on her mother’s face when she brought him home.
Neither Frank nor his father were men who paid much attention to the race, class, or gender of an individual. For this reason, they received quite a lot of criticism from the other more traditional wealthy business owners in the area. Frank’s father was often ridiculed for being a hired hand on a cotton farm and for marrying a very homely woman. But Mary understood. Love was love. Elizabeth, however, was amongst the many traditionalists who did not understand. Mary knew this was the reason her mother disapproved of him, and it infuriated her. Her mother had never even bothered to get to know Frank. She banished him from the property upon first laying eyes on him.
