by Lori Titus
OVER THE WEEKS THAT followed, Jenna read all she could find about cleansing rituals and releasing the unwanted dead.
She rented a small house near the edge of town and tried to keep her mind on the baby and all the things that she would need to do to prepare to welcome her new daughter, and of course, her novel. Patricia Bell’s voice was stronger in her head than ever, and the flow of words kept her up at night. She wrote, even though she feared the massive job of editing and cleaning up later.
At this point, she could only theorize that the story might follow reality, at least a bit. Much of her research had been destroyed in the fire, along with her laptop and her notes. The only reason she had her book was because she had emailed Amanda a copy of it.
Along with Patricia, there were new voices.
Jenna did not recall all their names, and she did not want to. The only one she knew in particular, through instinct and not research, was Willow.
Willow was the only one that sang, and her voice was so clear and sweet that in its presence the others fell silent.
Perhaps the spirits were satiated with Diana’s death. And they had, after all, found someone new to haunt.
Jenna didn’t see things. She wasn’t sure if that was a matter of sheer will or if her particular type of - perception come with visualizations of the dead. She could feel spirits moving through the wind, wrapping themselves around her as she walked. Though the presence was comforting, it never left her mind that perhaps, somewhere, the vengeful spirit of her sister waited.
The Ancestors deserved rest.
Jenna refused to go anywhere near the Bell property again, though she did not leave Chrysalis. What little family she had was there, including Stephen’s mother, and she didn’t like the idea of moving far from the only grandparent her child would have. Raquel stepped up and took care of everything—both the funerals for Diana and Henry as well as anything having to do with the house.
One afternoon, after a thorough search and cleaning job through her mother’s house, Raquel came to visit her.
“I found this in a panel inside my mother’s bedroom closet. There are more out in the car, Auntie, but this was the last of the set, so I thought you might want to read that one first.” Raquel said. She handed Jenna a small brown leather bound book. The journal was fairly well preserved, the cursive writing still clear on the yellowed pages.
Jenna opened the volume to the first page and stared at the handwriting in wonder: Helena Bell.
Swallowing over a lump in her throat, Jenna asked, “How many of these journals are there?”
“Fourteen. Apparently you aren’t the only writer in the family. I’m actually wondering if there might be more hidden away.”
“So, what are you going to do about the house?” Jenna asked, rubbing her belly absently. She was just beginning to show, and Raquel smiled at her.
“Well I’m not trying to live there, that’s for sure. But I’d feel awful selling it to someone else for them to encounter . . . um . . . the same problems we did.”
“What if there is a way,” Jenna said, “to release whatever is tied to that land?”
IN THE END, RAQUEL decided to go with the first plan that her aunt suggested.
Inside the house, she spray-painted the names of every relative or other possible spirit they had been able to find on the walls of the house. They included the name of Travis Bell and Willow Branom. Jenna’s research and Helena’s journals provided the names of countless members of the Bell clan. Amanda’s search of county records provided the names of renters and family friends alike, and no name was left unaccounted for.
Once they were done with the names, Jenna arranged for the fire department to come out and do a controlled burn. Jenna, Constance, Raquel, and a group of curious onlookers all watched as the house went up. Even the local news showed up. Amanda came and took pictures of it.
Afterwards, Jenna and Amada stood together, talking.
She watched and slowly felt the stirring of voices become calm around her. Ashes flowed away on the wind.
Jenna stayed until the very last embers of the flames were extinguished. It was only then Jenna heard the cries of the dead fall silent, replaced by the still of the cold night.
Acknowledgments
No book is ever written in a vacuum. Writers work with editors, cover artists, and sometimes a friend or two that allows us to bounce ideas back and forth. Then there are the brave souls who offer to be beta readers! Friends and loved ones spend time without us as we become immersed in the worlds that we create in our heads. Sometimes we are present but not truly all there. From what I can tell, that is the general state of people that pursue storytelling. For the people who have put up with my lapses, I sincerely thank you.
I first started The Bell House as a project for Nanowrimo back in November 2011. Living in a new city with unexpected challenges, the creepy town of Chrysalis was a comforting place to write about. The characters felt complete and the word count flowed easily.
My friend Tony Smith, who edited much of my work on Marradith, allowed me to send him this story in chapter- sized installments. Every night or so I would email him the next bit, and he would write me back with his comments. I knew I was on to something when he wrote back in the wee hours one morning, “damn, that Diana is just NASTY!” As always, he gave me very honest feedback “spare the rod, spoil the writer,” he teased, but I was happy that he enjoyed it.
Thank you to Loretta Sylvestre, who stepped in and helped trim, mold, and polish the story into what it is today. Thank you to my many writer friends who always help to inspire me.
And thank you for reading this, and giving me the chance to entertain you for a while.
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Lori Titus is a Californian with an affinity for speculative fiction. Her work explores mysticism and reality, treading the blurred line between man and monster. She thrives on coffee and daydreams when she isn't writing or plotting out her next story.
Read more at Lori Titus’s site.
