House of Darkness House of Light (68 page)

Determined to prove his hypothesis, Jerry rapidly flung the bedroom door wide open. He was right…nothing there. The almost deafening noise stopped instantly, the moment he touched the iron latch; that awful grinding, gouging sound ceased. Not a single piece of furniture was out of place. There was no one visibly present in the bedroom…not a scratch on the floor…no evidence of any commotion. Jerry’s hands began to tremble as blood drained from his face. Astonished, he turned on the landing then stared at Nancy, begging the question without saying a word. She found it to be a rather ironic twist. Jerry appeared to be more ghostly than any apparition she had ever witnessed over all her years in the house. He’d slowly passed her and went back downstairs, returning to his seat at the table…reserving comment.

“So? What was it? What did you see?” His equal as a skeptic, Katy asked him to describe the scene in detail.

“Nothing…like I said.” Nancy responded for him as she walked back into the kitchen, leering at her closest friend, the inflection in her voice telling everyone present to hush!

“You’re
so
brave!” Kate couldn’t leave it alone. Nancy found her fluttering eyelashes nauseating; seemingly unaware she often emulated the practice.

“Kate! Shut up!” Gritting that caustic statement through her clenched jaw, Katy did as she was told you so; Nancy’s glare, an expression she could read with relative ease, even if she was oblivious to Jerry’s sudden shade of pale. The game resumed but Jerry was too distracted to play. After a few minutes he excused himself, asking Eddy to give Kate a ride home. Suddenly she was the pale face in the crowd, devastated he’d leave her behind. He hit the road; the only bump and grind that night came from floorboards above. Petulantly pouting, Katy threw her hand of cards in the center of the table. Game over. Eddy had hoped to continue but Katy was hot and bothered; pissed off by the commotion culminating in cancellation of her plans. Her date night had been spoiled…nobody gettin’ any nookie
that
night. She wanted to go home.

“I hate this damn house!” Regressing by the second, Katy threw a tantrum.

“Well you don’t have to come back!” Nancy, noting how self-absorbed and immature her friend could be at times, Katy had her center-stage moments as the drama queen of arrested development. M’ lady: ascending to her throne. Nancy, her lady-in-waiting: Birds of a feather always flocking together! The situation was quickly becoming all flocked up!

“Fine! Then I
won’t
come back! This is a
creepy
old place anyway! I won’t
ever
come back here again!” That was a lie and everyone knew it.

Nancy and Katy were tight; thick as thieves. Secretly wishing what Katy said
was
true, Cindy knew better. Truth be told, she’d be back. Grimacing at the thought of it, Cindy watched the scene unfold with some amusement.

Eddy promptly took Kate home, a mere mile away. He then returned to the farm to spend time with his girlfriend. This young man had long been aware of a presence in the house. He’d likewise understood
his
presence triggered supernatural activity. As a conduit Eddy Richardson was a distant ancestor of the original family, those who had settled this property and built the house in which he’d become a welcome guest. His ancestral connection, a presumed factor in the reception he often sensed whenever he crossed the threshold, the place had always felt like home to him…because it
was
home: Inviting him.

Not long thereafter, Jerry confessed what happened to him, telling Nancy and Eddy why he had become upset by what he heard but did
not
see in the bedroom that night; the stunning absence of life. He was reluctant to express himself further; ashamed to reveal the details of an encounter he’d had
after
he left the house. Eventually sharing, shocking his friends in the process, the macho man whispered as he spoke. As it turned out, Jerry had not gone home alone, after all. While driving the dark, long and winding Round Top Road, he’d detected a presence with him in the car. It began with a sudden chill. On a hot August night he could see his breath, feel his heart beginning to pound. His car became unbearably frigid in a matter of seconds; whitening knuckles clenching the steering wheel. According to him it was impossible to describe. Jerry seemed shaken by simply retelling the tale; an abbreviated version.

“It was a real
different
kind of
cold, nothing like
I
ever felt before: Death. The car stunk like hell! A smell so bad it made me almost puke my guts up!” How festive. A man of few words, Jerry always did have a way with them.

Averting his eyes, as if embarrassed by the disclosure, Jerry struggled with his emotions as he spoke; he choked up, blushing because of it, admitting he had been
touched
several times and could feel an icy cold breath on the back of his neck and shoulders; the hair on his body stood rigid, at attention, with contact. There was no dismissing it, no denying the fact: he was not traveling alone. Sensing himself the subject of some scrutiny, Jerry forced himself to glance into the rearview mirror. He saw her through the steam, a mouth full of jagged yellow teeth. Full disclosure: “I almost pissed my pants!”

Jerking the car off the road during his moment of panic, he’d leapt from the vehicle without turning it off. He’d had to gather his wits. It was obvious. No one was in the back seat, certainly nobody he could see. Pacing around in a circle, staring inside it from every conceivable angle, several minutes passed. Jerry conceded feeling ridiculous. He wanted to go home and forget all about it but could not bring himself to re-enter a car possessed. Terrified, the young man finally mustered the courage to drive home, blasting the radio, providing a diversion for a terrifying ride. Though an odor and ungodly chill dissipated, Jerry remained profoundly affected by the incident. Eddy tried to make light of it, knowing his friend had been deeply disturbed and seriously spooked.

“So, was she the
Ghoul of your Dreams
?”

“Eddy, go have a cup of shut the fuck up!” Jerry was not the least amused, having suffered the ensuing nightmares. Eddy, suffering the bout of nervous laughter, was unable to control his equally serious case of the giggles. Nancy suggested he try to be more understanding of a friend’s obvious distress; kids can be cruel and insensitive, even into adulthood, and some never outgrow it. That night had become the ultimate date night from hell. Too bad Jerry went home with the wrong girl…the ghoul of his nightmares.

In time, this humbled soul would return to their farm again, requiring some uncommon courage to do so; a valiant effort by Katy’s Prince Charming. His belief system had been formally challenged. He’d questioned his own sanity. When Jerry did return, months later, it was as a
believer
. He would never again volunteer to go “check it out” whenever a sudden noise erupted in the house. Instead, he’d take the opportunity to escape; inviting Kate to go for a walk in the woods. Due to the Nature of their walks, her attitude improved as well. Soon Kate was praying for the holy ghosts to appear at will: how ironic.

“Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with

its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.”

Diane Ackerman

 
reality

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

Pablo Picasso

It is said that thoughts are things; to be careful what you wish for, as surely you will get it. It is said: what is spoken into the Universe comes back to help or to haunt, depending on the intention of the desires. If thoughts are indeed things, they are intangible, invisible things until they are made manifest in form. When thoughts appear as
something
substantive, such as a manuscript, first written inside the mind then transposed onto paper, the object is defined; assigned its identity. Prior to the existence of the actual book, is the story it tells any less real? No. It was merely invisible, an intangible, out there in the ether of the Universe. Mortals function primarily within the confines of five senses, with all of their inherent flaws and limitations. These senses integrate with and compensate for one another, frequently working in tandem as five complementary co-conspirators. Defining the parameters of what’s perceived as reality, humans predominately use the five senses to firmly establish what actually exists, to the exclusion of this vital sixth sense, with which we have been so generously gifted. Essentially, we do believe our eyes. We should. There is no legitimate reason to dismiss these otherwise consistently reliable senses. As trustworthy as the senses prove to be they are woefully inadequate if one’s intention is to see with the Third Eye. They do not tell all, and thus, should not be relied upon as the sole litmus test of Reality; the determining factor of whatever is ultimately deemed real or unreal. Disregarding reality in the context of what is seen and unseen discounts the vastness of an intelligent Universe as well as the incomprehensible mysteries it harbors, establishing sensual boundaries where none actually exist. It is ludicrous for mortals to believe we know anything about the ways of the Cosmos; too presumptuous to assume we have any answers when we have yet to ask the right questions.

Reality ~ n.
1
. The quality or state of being actual or true.

2
. One, such as a person or an event, that is actual.

3
. The totality of all things possessing actuality, existence or essence.

4
. That which exists objectively and in fact.

(The American Heritage Dictionary)

It requires a certain expansion of consciousness to accept as “real” what is unseen, intangible; to perceive the absence of reality
as
reality requires a leap of faith. The Perron family was forced to leap from this precarious precipice in order to comprehend the essential Nature of Reality. By definition, these spirits are real as their essence manifests in form and function. The night they
all
appeared around her bed Carolyn was abruptly challenged to reassess her perceptions. One element of it was certain: her fear was real. During those moments, all else remained in question. She did
not
believe her eyes. She could smell the putrid air and taste the rancid stench in the hard palate of her mouth; she could see the flames and smell the smoke. The urgency she felt, the need for an explanation of this encounter was real. The terror consuming her being was all too real. It pulsed through her veins, as pure as the blood it swam with during those moments of crisis. Worst of all, it was the perception that she (and her entire family) were about to perish, to burn to death in their own beds, which gripped the woman’s mind and shook her to the core of her consciousness. It was not just a visceral reaction but cerebral transformation which she endured in the darkness of night, at the break of dawn. Under such extreme duress an individual naturally questions the origin and interpretation of sights, smells and sounds which cannot be rationally explained otherwise. Little wonder Carolyn had questioned her own sanity, her own belief system; everything this woman thought she understood about the world underwent a seismic, cosmic shift once she and her family stepped across their threshold, into the house alive with death. There was nothing logical, nothing tangible in their altered frame of reference anymore. The mysteries of life and death, revealed to disbelieving eyes, ruptured Pandora’s Box. There was no point in confronting them; best to give them their space and time to travel.

Her natural curiosity became a supernatural quest for knowledge. Her fear became a catalyst to questions destined to remain unanswered, as if by divine decree. Five senses were formally challenged as her sixth sense came to life; focusing its gaze upon death. In time, Carolyn came to rely upon perceptions having nothing to do with innate ability to see, touch, taste, smell and hear. In time, the eye of the beholder would see all: behold! She’d wonder why she had been the privileged one; as if chosen to receive these messages imparted. It felt as if she’d been targeted; likewise one entrusted with an awareness few perceive in life. This assaultive spirit certainly got her attention; an encounter she interpreted as a curse, literally and figuratively. Decades pass, as decades do. In time, Carolyn has come to
realize
a blessing: Uncommon Knowledge.

“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason

for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries

of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries

merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”

Albert Einstein

 
Baker boys

“The clouds that gather round the setting sun

Do take a sober coloring from an eye,

That hath kept watch o’er
man’s mortality.”

William Wordsworth

They all stood together on the landing of Andrea’s bedroom stairs. She had seen them there several times before over their years in the farmhouse: as the father, the son and their holy ghost of a dog. They’d appeared as a Trinity of Souls, gazing through the bedroom wall, overlooking a familiar landscape, a place in the country they had all loved, as if surveying their property in death which claimed them in life. Their eyes remained locked; fixed and focused, a steadfast stare never to be broken by the intrusion of a mere mortal. Andrea looked directly into their eyes but they did not return her gaze. Elsewhere, they were, in a time long ago and far away, in a country place resembling the home she knew, unavailable for question or comment…no contact. Too bad.