Disclaimer: Hanna-Barbera owns JQ: TRA and all characters and environs therein. Disney owns the Haunted Mansion. Everything else belongs to the author. Categories: E, V, and A Archivists: Please feel free. Feedback is highly welcome: scullyspice@juno.com Date: July 5, 1999
DARK MIRRORS
BY: SARA METZ
I've noticed odd things here, ever since I moved in with the Quests 4 years ago. Wispy images seen out of the corner of my eye, the feeling that there is someone behind me; curtains rustling even though there is no wind.
At times it's like that spiel from the Haunted Mansion: 'When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the hall. Whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still, that is the time when ghosts are present…' Eerily prescient, eh? That ride never scared me, but I'm sure if I went on it now, it would scare the crap out of me.
It all started when I walked in the door of the Quest Compound. The main house is over 200 years old. Renovated, of course. And in the front hall, there is a large, ornate mirror. Dr. Quest said it has been here since the house was built. I was standing in the hall, alone because my father was getting my suitcase out of the car. Even on the brightest day, the foyer is twilight dark. Decorated in period antiques and heavy lace curtains, it has an eerie feel, like an abandoned house. Jonny once confided in me that his mother was always after his father to redecorate it, but died before he did anything. I honestly can't blame her.
While standing in the hall, my eyes were drawn to the mirror. Standing in front of it, I quickly smoothed out my blue plaid skirt and matching sweater, a going-away gift from my mother. I wanted to look nice, but there was nothing I could do about the unruly scarlet strands falling out of my braid. Suddenly, I felt something being pushed into my hair, holding it back. I looked up into the mirror and saw a diaphanous shape behind me. It formed into an attractive blond woman ?earing an old-fashioned gown. I turned around, but by that time, she was gone.
Turning back to the mirror, I saw a small hair clip had been placed in my hair. It was shaped like a bug, its blue and white stones matching my outfit exactly. In the next moment, my father returned. He never noticed the pin. I suppose he assumed my mother gave it to me. Perhaps not, but I would like to think someone's mother gave it to me.
Later, I went to an antique store to have it appraised. Late eighteenth century, I was told. After looking through some books on the subject, I realized the woman's dress was of the same era.
I've seen the blond woman again, amongst others. In fact I saw her death. Once, late at night, I was home alone during a storm. Walking towards the stairs, I thought I saw figures standing on them. The next flash of lightening told me otherwise. The ghostly figures were locked in argument at the head of the stairs. In the next flash, I saw a dark-haired man push the blond woman over the railing. In the darkness, I heard a sickening thump. When I turned on the lights, however, no one was there but me. The others, you may ask? The dark-haired man, my mysterious benefactor, a young boy in the lighthouse, and an elderly lady standing on the widow's walk atop the house. I'm not sure if these are also the shadows I see turning a corner ahead of me, or if those are other residents of what seems to be a retreat for the disembodied.
I've done some research on the history of this house. Perhaps I'll record in a later entry, but I sense a storm is coming, and I'll need to go watch for a guest appearance. Or perhaps, a house favorite.
THE END