Please ignore possible plot holes in this story. It was written between midterms and purely for enjoyment. Hope you all enjoy xx
Part 1. You're Going to Die Here
"This is sick, bro."
Zak was sliding his finger lazily over his phone. He had pulled up a wiki article for the umpteenth time. He practically had the gruesome words memorized, yet there was always a new sentence to catch him off guard.
"I swear, the history on this place gets more messed up every time you reload the page."
"It's the Murder House," began Nick driving at his side, "It goes without saying."
The small crew had been driving through morning LA traffic en route to their latest location; The Montgomery Mannor aka the notorious Murder house.
The City of Angels was no stranger to secrets, and the estate known to many as the most haunted house in California certainly held its fair share of whispers.
"It's like the number one location for murders," Aaron spoke up from the back seat.
"Yeah," agreed Zak "the best part is it's practically in our backyard. No plane ticket to the depths of some Scottish dungeon required."
"... Is that it?" Nick had slowed the car as they came upon an unassuming Victorian brick home. It loomed over a square of land with a lavish front yard fenced in and retaining any suspicious murmurs of death and decay.
"That's it, all right," said Zak checking out the home from behind his aviator sunglasses.
He looked over the red brick, the vines, the immaculate garden. It all seemed too perfect, too common, and too good to be true.
"Aaron start rolling," he said getting out of the car once Nick had parked on the side of the road.
Constance blew a plume of smoke to the window. She was practically pressed against the pane as she glared down to the sidewalk outside the place she once called home.
"Fools, damn fools," she laughed dryly taking another drag from her cigarette. "Treating souls and people's personal matters like trite daytime dramas. Jesus H. Christ..."
"They're just curious. This place certainly has a reputation, you know," said an elderly red-headed maid, Moira, stepping to the jaded woman's side. Constance glanced to her indifferently.
She observed the maid as she longingly looked down to the men.
"Investigators like them help lost souls. Maybe they could even help me."
Constance blew smoke into the side of her face.
"Bullshit. Those morons are after one thing; fame. They could give a shit if you go to the light, or whatever crock of shit they believe."
"And what if I tell them I'm buried in the backyard? What then?"
Constance laughed causing Moira to cringe.
"Oh hell, maybe the big one will grab a shovel and put down the camera, but I doubt it."
"Why are you always so cruel?!" she cried, always taken back by the woman's cold calculated front.
Constance was unmoved, "Cruel? How is it that the whore is passing judgment? Better leave that one to the man upstairs, honey," she was about to walk away when a thought stopped her.
"No... I know what you want. You just can't wait to get your sticky little hands on that spikey-haired fellow down there."
Moira furrowed her brow. She was never able to control how men perceived her. She inwardly hoped it wouldn't hinder them possibly helping her.
"Oh, you stupid slut!" Constance spat as if she was able to read the other woman's thoughts. "Do you know what will become of this house after this show airs? We'll be a mockery! Who knows, some tour of over fed tourists could show up on our door step!"
"What would you have me do?! What can any of us do?!"
Constance pursed her lips, she gazed back out the window to Zak, Nick, and Aaron.
"What we do best," she answered gravely.
"The last owners were all dead within the first few months of living here. The daughter overdosed on sleeping pills, the mother died in childbirth, and the father hung himself from the second story. And that is only the latest of this house's dark history," Zak explained to the camera operated by Nick.
"There's much more murder and death that took place on these saturated grounds... does saturated make sense there?"
Nick looked away from the camera to Zak, "Sounded okay to me."
"I don't know... I don't want to say dark history again, ya'know?"
Just then Aaron rushed over.
"Woah, guys!" they both looked over to where he had been just outside the entrance of the fence.
"What?" asked Zak annoyed.
Aaron frantically pointed toward the front door of the house.
They both followed his gesture to see a woman facing the house, head hung low as she seemed to be dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Oh," said Zak taking in the sight of the young woman, "that must be the homeowner."
"No, bro," said Aaron stopping Zak from walking toward her. "I swear, man. I was setting up the camera for the interview and there was no one there, then this lady just showed up out of no where. I didn't hear the door open or anything... I only looked away for a second!"
Nick and Zak eyed each other.
The green crew was still new to filming TV. Shooting stressed them out and often had them on edge. Especially when it included a high profile haunt.
"Relax, man," started Nick glancing over to the woman. "You're just tired. I think I saw her open the front door a minute ago," he lied hoping to calm the man.
"So can we get on with the interview, now? God..." said Zak pushing by the pair.
"Make way for Hans Holzer," Nick said under his breath as he headed back to the van.
Zak approached the woman as Aaron started rolling.
"Excuse me, hello, are you the current owner?"
The blonde haired woman practically jumped out of her skin at Zak's voice. She turned to see the pair, her eyes widened in horror at the large dark contraption taping her.
"Y-yes, and who would you be? And what is that? What are you doing?"
Zak narrowed his brow, "We're, uh, filming our show, we talked overt he phone remember? I'm Zak, Zak Bagans," he said extending his hand to her. She took it cautiously. "And, are you Nora?"
She nodded confused, "I... am?"
"And this is a camera, aha," Aaron said laughing tilting the camera away from his face for a moment.
She only clutched the small piece of fabric she held trying desperately to make sense of something, of anything. "A... camera?" she laughed before dabbing at her eyes again. Once Zak had stepped closer to her, he could see the tears that filled her eyes.
"Can you... tell us what happened here?"
She looked back up to him, just as shocked as before.
"So much… Sadness. Pain… Oh god!" she cried out before hiding her face in her handkerchief.
Zak looked questioningly back to Aaron then to Nick who had been watching from the van.
Still, he felt his tear. He knew first hand the effect these type of locations could have on people unlucky enough to live there.
"Do… Do you want to go into the house for the interview?"
"The house?" she asked as if the thought hadn't entered her mind, "Yes… Yes. I think I'll do that."
With that, she pushed open the front door and the men stepped over the threshold.
It was large, dark, and rich in energy. One would swear they had just stepped back into time. Like a hundred years had passed and yet nothing had changed.
"It's a beautiful home," he said as they traveled toward the living room.
"I know, my husband built it for me," she said with a beaming smile before hiding it behind her small rag.
They stopped in the living room as she began to frantically look around.
"Nora?" Zak asked, "is everything all right?"
She reached out carefully to the couch, as if it were capable of biting her.
"What is this?!" she wailed to no one in particular, "I don't recall this... this cheap furniture! What has become of my fine velvets? My luxurious furs?"
Zak watched as she threw herself on the couch and cried.
"This isn't right!" she yelled into the cushions.
The lead investigator looked back to the men behind him who seemed just as clueless as him.
Nick gestured for him to move closer to her.
Zak could only presume he had lost his mind as well. Yet, he figured he should try to comfort the inconsolable woman.
"Uh... Nora... I know this sort of thing can be... difficult," he said taking a seat beside her and placing a hand on her back.
"What is going on!" she asked looking up to him. "This isn't my house. This isn't what I remember!"
"Well having these sort of experiences can change the your whole life. It can be scary."
"What?" she asked clueless.
"Can you tell me about some of the things that happened here?"
She shook her head looking blankly at the camera, "I could never tell you what happened here. Never."
"We could help you, Nora. Please."
She got up from the couch shaking her head, "I told him I'd never say a word. My reputation... my family... my baby..." suddenly it were as if she had realized a horrifying fact all over again. She backed out of the room slowly. "Oh God! My baby!" she sobbed.
With that, she ran from the room. Zak quickly got up to follow her, yet, as soon as he turned toward the hallway where she had ran to, he found it eerily empty.
His mouth fell open.
Once the others had caught up to him, they were as dumbfounded him.
"Bro!" gasped Aaron, "bro, I told you guys! There is something weird going on here."
His wide eyes looked wildly to the others who grappled for a logical explanation.
Zak wanted to roll his eyes. As much as he was a believer, he was equally a realist. Sure, he believed wholeheartedly in the supernatural, but people don't appear and disappear after complaining about their couch to you.
"She was obviously upset. I won't intrude on her privacy, if she wants to talk, she'll talk."
"Yeah," agreed Nick, "I guess she retreated through her secret trap door," he quipped.
Zak didn't appreciate it.
"This has never happened before," he said looking into the camera addressing the audience, "never in Ghost Adventures history has a interviewee just... well... disappeared. Let's get some B-roll, or something."
"It doesn't make any sense," said Zak as the men made their way back to the front door. "On the phone, whoever I spoke to was nothing but compliant."
"I don't know, man," said Aaron still reeling in confusion. "She seems like she has some pretty deep problems. Like the house has a hold on her..."
The men stopped at the entrance. Zak reached for the door knob, but something stopped him.
"I can't leave," he said looking back to Aaron still holding the camera. "We came all this way and now that I'm actually standing here... I don't know... I can't explain what I'm feeling. Almost like, like I'm being pulled-"
"You're going to die here."
All three men turned with a start to see a young woman standing across from them. She stared to them, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes playful as if she knew something they did not.
"What?!" Nick whispered as Zak and Aaron could only stare in fright.
Then came another voice, a woman's throaty laugh wafting in through another room. Constance sauntered in, a cigarette in her hand and and a broad smile adorning her red painted lips.
"Addie, come now, it's not polite to frighten the guests," she said in her elegant southern drawl.
"What?!" Nick gasped again, in a hushed voice.
Constance smiled to the men as if greeting old friends. All though, there was still something foreboding about the confidant beautiful woman looming before them.
She turned to the younger woman placing a gentle hand on her cheek.
"Now, now, honey bear. Run home. Why don't you bake up some of your delicious cupcakes for the fine television men?"
Addie's face lit up and in the next moment she had left just as quickly and mysteriously as she had appeared.
The older woman turned back to the men, "My daughter. She's always had a skill for comedic timing. A regular Carol Burnett!"
The guys breathed a small sigh of relief. The young woman was clearly mentally handicapped so they were able to let the incident go.
"Forgive her... I'm Constance. I live next door."
"Next door?" asked Zak, "Well you must be very familiar with this house then?"
"Yes," she agreed taking a drag from her cigarette, "I know this house like my own children. Well, except for Addie there. She's always had a bug up her ass about this place I could never understand. A sick obsession. I, on the other hand, would dance on its burnt remains."
"Well then," Zak continued awkwardly as Nick and Aaron began to ready their cameras. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind speaking for us, for the our show?"
She frowned, her once friendly smile turning into a sneer.
"You want to talk?"
"Yes," he insisted.
She nodded patting at her hair, "I do have a lot to say."
"The floor is yours!" he said before reaching out a hand, "I'm Zak Bagans, by the way. Lead investigator of Ghost Adventures. And this is Nick and Aaron. We've been waiting to investigate here for months now!"
"Oh," she purred taking his hand, "all right then," she said before tossing the butt of her cigarette into a nearby vase. "I just hope I don't disappoint you."
"I'm sure that you won't."
She smiled as the lights and cameras where set on her. Zak quickly introduced her as she coolly gazed to him.
"So, could you tell us anything about the history of this place?"
"This house is as boring as an old married couple on a Saturday night," she said in one unmoved breath. "Why, you couldn't get more cookie cutter Americana than this red brick right here," she added with a laugh.
Zak was taken off guard and for a moment and wasn't sure what to say, "That's- that's not what anyone else has been telling us."
"Well everyone else is a fool. Raised in a generation of violence and pornography! It's no wonder your depraved minds try to find monsters and demons in wholesome family estates."
"But don't you find it hard to ignore the undeniable history of this house, Constance?"
She stared at him. Through him.
"You're out of your depth, Zachary."
He smiled despite her fierce attempts to dismay his interest.
"I won't talk anymore," she said curtly before producing a lighter and cigarette from her dress pocket, "not on camera, anyway."
Zak was frustrated as he looked back to Nick and Aaron lowering their cameras.
Just then, the click of high-heels were heard slowly descending from the steps.
"Ah, Moira, get me and these men here some coffee, would you?"
The men turned to see a woman clad with vibrant red hair, a tight short maid's dress, thigh hugging garters, and the face of a young beautiful creature, no older than twenty-five.
Their jaws had become slightly unhinged now for a whole other reason.
Moira slowly descended the steps, her dark lips never budging from an unimpressed and uninterested expression.
Yet, her smoldering eyes connected with Zak's, and her emotionless glare became one of want and need as she coyly glanced downward.
"Of course. You men like it dark... or light?" she asked now standing before them.
The men looked away from her, pretending to be more occupied in their cameras, Zak was the only one to answer her.
"No thanks, we're fine. We have a lot of work to do."
She meandered closer to him.
"Are you sure? I don't take you to be a man to pass up anything hot... and... sweet."
Her mouth hung open provocatively as Zak uncomfortably laughed and looked away.
"Not on the job, sweetie."
"Suit yourselves," she said nonchalantly before turning away to the kitchen.
Constance carefully eyed Zak as he watched the young woman walk away. It sickened her how no man could see her for the lying scum she truly was.
"Come on," said the older woman following her, "I have a great deal of questions for you."
As she left Zak as he turned to confront the other men.
"This is all really strange, isn't it?"
"Let's see, between the woman crying about throw pillows, to "you're going to die", to a crazy neighbor and her b-rated horror movie maid? I don't know, seems pretty average to me," Nick dryly quipped.
"Man, you can't talk to her, I honestly think they are plotting your murder in that room, right now," added Aaron.
"Will you stop, okay? You've been freaking out this whole time. Things are weird here but, I don't know, I sorta... like it," he added with a smirk.
"And the maid in the kitchen with a wrench has nothing to do with that?" asked Nick.
"What? Wrench?"
"Clue reference."
Zak sighed heavily, his coworkers had been getting on his last nerve.
"Okay then," he began, "the people are interesting, to say the least. This is still about the house. I feel like its... talking to me, or something."
Nick narrowed his brow, "Well is it giving you any ideas on how we're gonna pull together an episode out of useless interviews?"
"Larry Harvey," Zak said suddenly remembering a man who had reached out to him earlier, "that burned victim, the guy who previously owned the house. He's supposed to meet us outside at noon. I'm sure he is willing to enlighten us."
"That's a relief. Until then we'll get some shots of outside," said Nick looking to Aaron, "or maybe the basement. They've been trying to sell the house. It seems like they don't mind if people wander around."
"All right," Zak agreed, "while you guys are doing that, I'll see what information I can swindle out of Constance. There's bound to be one hot spot in the house she's willing to reveal," he said heading toward the kitchen in the direction of the women.
Aaron looked to Nick once Zak had left. He hoped the more understanding man wouldn't brush his fears away.
"If Bloody Face shows up... I'm seriously outta here, bro."
"I have a keen eye for spotting paranormal talent... so what gifts do you claim to possess?" asked Constance seated across from Zak as she sipped on her coffee. "I've never known a man to have talents in anything useful, let alone spiritual."
Zak smiled, "I don't... I mean not spiritual, at least."
At that, Moira glanced to him as she slowly polished a spoon.
"I think lonely spirits are just drawn to me sometimes. Ever since this incident out in Michigan," he added.
He glanced past the older woman to see Moira leaning over to clean the stove. He quickly averted his eyes back to Constance.
"Can't you tell me anything?" he continued clearing his throat, "Just one strange thing that happened here? Maybe one spot you would never go alone?"
"I have no qualms or fears in this house."
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
She paused for a moment, "I believe in the other side... and I do believe that some choose to stay here due to their cowardly fear of judgment."
"Then you must have had some experiences! I heard a family was once run out in the middle of the night."
"I am at peace!" she cried, "And I will not give in to the masses who want to see this home turned into some sort of macabre exhibit with plastic masks and colored corn syrup dripping from the walls. You may see this as the Murder House but this... this place was my..."
She stopped herself and he took the lead.
"You can tell me whatever you want, this is off the record," he said hoping his mike was still on.
"I once lived here," she confessed.
He raised a brow, "Here? When?"
"Oh, years ago. I lost almost all my children in this house. Two husbands... one maid. And a great deal of shrubbery. Nothing will grow in the infertile womb that is this soil."
"What? You lost all those people while living here?"
"Did I stutter, Mr. Bacons?"
Zak frowned, "Bagans."
"Anyways," she said getting up, "you and your men should leave this house before sunset tonight. I doubt you want to confront the sort of characters lurking around this neighborhood after six p.m. I'll tell you, it was a fine street until those Gomez people moved in on the corner," she added under her breath.
She made her way to the door, but Zak wasn't content with her hasty exit.
"We aren't leaving, Constance, we're investigators who only came looking for answers."
She turned to him. She eyed him over like an insect she had caught in her web.
"We get a lot of people like you, you know. Each thinking they can get some sort of rise out of the dead that walk these halls. Well, I'll let you in on a little secret, Bacons. The living don't control Murder House, the dead do. And they aren't particularly fond of spikey-haired intruders."
She slammed the door behind her leaving Zak alone with Moira who picked up her half empty cup of coffee.
"Is everyone around here crazy?" he asked sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms. He was beginning to question himself, something that didn't happen that often. It was Moira who brought him back to the present moment as she leaned far over in front of him, cleaning the kitchen counter with a rag.
"Don't ask me, I just clean up their mess."
He furrowed his brow as she gazed up to him through her ravishing bedroom eyes. He wondered if she was even a real maid, or just some poor girl paid to saunter around the house in a cheap Halloween costume.
"I wouldn't mind cleaning up after you, though," she added carelessly pushing a bowl of fruit to the side, clearing the table top. "If you wanted to make a mess..."
He starred to her curiously as she lustily gazed back, bending herself over the counter.
Something was greatly off about her, yet, he couldn't exactly put his finger on it.
"Have you... seen my show before?"