New Orleans, 2016- French Quarter
"Come on Mom, we're going to be late for the parade!" The teenager whined, dragging his mother through the crowded streets of New Orleans. Jazz music filled the air, accompanied by the cacophonous drunken singing of Mardi Gras patrons. The boy and his mother were there to celebrate, of course, having arrived in Louisiana the night before. The over excited teen in question just wished his mother shared his enthusiasm for the French holiday, grumbling to himself as they made slow progress through Bourbon Street.
"Slow down, Henry! Don't run ahead!" Emma yelled, knowing it was pointless- her son had a habit of ignoring her. They continued their half jog-half sprint until Henry stopped at the street corner, declaring the spot acceptable for parade viewing.
"Finally, at least we can see everything from here." Henry stated, leaning against the street sign. Emma rolled her eyes. Kids these days, so high maintenance.
"After the show is over, what do you want to do, kid?" Henry squinted his eyes, staring off into space, racking his brain for ideas.
"I don't know, nothing too touristy. Those graveyard tours are such a scam- I want a real haunted house experience; you know?" Emma nodded, looking through her guide book.
"How about a museum?" That didn't go over well, getting a firm "no" from Henry.
"There's seriously nothing about haunted houses in that book? That's ridiculous." Sighing, Emma put it away in her backpack, leaning against the same street sign as her son.
A few minutes later, they were approached by a young African American woman wearing a bright yellow dress with an apron. Having heard the last bit of their conversation, she made her way to the couple, hoping to be of assistance.
"I'm sorry to bother you, I'm Tiana, I work at the restaurant you're standing in front of. I couldn't help but overhear, you say you're looking for a haunted house?" Henry leaned forward, his interest piqued.
"Yeah, know any good ones?" Tiana glanced around for onlookers, and handed the teen a map.
"There's an old manor just outside the city, hardly anyone acknowledges its existence these days." She stopped to take a breath, clearly becoming anxious at the mention of this place.
"The only reason I know about it is because I stumbled across it on a run. It's a beautiful home, completely run down, but still very Victorian. When I went to go investigate, the gate was locked, but I could have sworn someone was staring at me from the window. It's worth checking out, at least. I marked its location on that map for you." Henry was bouncing with anticipation, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"Know anything about it?" Emma asked, becoming curious herself.
"The locals call it Sherwood Manor. The 150-year-old legend says it was built by wealthy businessman Robin Gracey as a wedding gift for his bride. No one knows the whole story, but it's been accepted that the couple were murdered by the jealous housekeeper. Myself, I think the whole thing's made up, but to each their own." By the time Tiana had finished her speech, Henry and Emma Swan had made up their minds to visit the manor.
"We could have picked a better day to do this." Emma grumbled, driving the two of them out of the city in the pouring rain. Their rental car was a yellow Volkswagen beetle, which would have been fine if they weren't down a functional headlight, making the journey slow and painful.
"According to Tiana's map, we're almost there." Henry said, unfolding their guide onto his lap as they drove. Emma sighed, taking another sip from her Starbucks cup. When they had finally reached their destination, both were confused.
"I don't see anything." After 150 years of neglect, nature had reclaimed the property- overgrown trees and bushes shielded the house from the outside world.
"It's right there, behind those trees." Henry was right: the outline of the manor was barely visible in the distance. Satisfied, Emma got out of the car, grabbing her phone.
"Operation Ghostbusters is a go!" She laughed, and followed her son down the path. When they reached the gate, it was open, sending a chill down their spines.
"Didn't Tiana say this was locked when she was here?" Henry asked, picking up the rusted, broken lock on the ground.
"Relax, the lock probably just fell off- look how old it is." Henry wasn't convinced.
"If we die, I blame you." The pair walked through the gate, the house now becoming visible in front of them.
When it was finally completed, Sherwood Manor was a sight to behold. The three story Victorian home had a southern flair to it- with four two story columns making up the front entrance. Painted white with green shutters, the manor was uniquely adorned with detailed metalwork surrounding both the lower and upper porches. Protected by a metal fence, the house looked appropriate for any well to do family. Throughout the years, it fell into disrepair, however it never lost its charm.
"Well, it's certainly creepy." Emma said, crossing her arms across her chest. Henry had already reached the front door, so she ran to catch up. Both of them failed to notice the shadow looming in the attic window.
With a turn of the handle, the pair entered into a dark, dusty foyer. Coughing up dust, they made their way down the hallway, Emma turning on the flashlight.
"I wonder who lived here." Henry casually stated, eyes roaming over the broken grandfather clock in front of the stairwell, stuck at 8:15. Emma continued walking up ahead, scanning the portraits, and then stopped in her tracks.
"I'm going to guess he did." She pointed at one of a man with striking features and a pale complexion. Obviously wealthy, he was youthful and attractive, with piercing eyes that held you captive in their gaze.
"Lord Robin Gracey, 1880." Henry read, tracing the engraved frame.
Sherwood Manor, 1877
"Am I to bail out every bank that has filed for bankruptcy?" With a sigh, the pile of papers on the man's desk grew larger- that would be dealt with at a later date. For now, he needed to see to the Manor's construction progress. To date, only the essential rooms were finished: mainly the kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom. The library, much to his dismay, was half done, but work couldn't wait any longer. The aforementioned room was shaping up to be his favorite- dark wood paneling covering the walls, and a large window behind his desk that brought in just the right amount of light. He occupied the space in his free time, whether it be to sign contracts or read the newest Sherlock Holmes.
"Well dear, you are the richest man in town." Robin smiled as his wife approached, bringing him a much needed cup of tea.
"Right you are, Marian. Quite a shock to a former criminal." They exchanged laughs knowingly- before he inherited a fortune from his adoptive parents, he spent his days living off of stolen luxury goods. When he got caught stealing from the late Lord and Lady Edward Gracey, the couple realized that this was a man stealing out of necessity- not greed. Instead of having him arrested, they gave him a job as Lord Gracey's finance manager. The couple grew to enjoy Robin's company: he was like the son they never had. Recognizing this, as they got on in age, they made the decision to adopt him. With their eventual passing, Robin had become the new Lord Gracey, inheriting a sizeable fortune.
"Is there anything you needed at the moment, my love?" Marian nodded, taking the now empty tea cup from the desk.
"The housekeeper you selected has arrived for her interview- Zelena Leota, I believe was her name." Robin got his papers in order and waited, hoping that this would go well.
Sherwood Manor, 2016
As soon as he said that, they heard the sound of a door being slammed shut and then locked. Looking back, the front door was no longer cracked open- they were trapped inside.
"I guess there's no turning back now." Emma mumbled, eyes wide. Henry continued to stare at the entryway, looking for evidence that a spirit had done this, and not a gust of wind.
"Is it colder in here, or is it just me?" He rubbed his arms, wishing he had worn some sort of jacket. Emma pulled him along, the incident fueling her desire to get out of the house as fast as possible. They made a left, and entered the main parlor.
Ample amounts of natural light shone in from the windows, highlighting the oddly pristine furniture: save for a few layers of dust and scattered cobwebs, the room looked lived in. There was a polished wood sofa sitting in the center of the room on top of an antique Persian rug, accompanied by matching chairs and a wooden table. Facing the sofa, behind the chairs, was an elegant marble fireplace. The beautiful herringbone floor matched the rest of the manor, and was complemented by red patterned wallpaper. A large oval mirror decorated the back wall, now reflecting the faces of its unsuspecting guests.
"Classy." Emma stated, wiping off the dust on the sofa before taking a seat. Henry lingered in the door frame for a minute or two before observing his reflection in the mirror.
"Hey mom, you see a rope lying around?" Taken aback by the random question, she looked at her son slightly confused.
"No, why?" Henry felt a chill run down his spine. He was sure of what he saw in the mirror: it only appeared for a few seconds, but he could make out part of a rope large enough to swing from, or even…hang from.
"No reason, just thought I saw something. Never mind." He went to go join his mother on the sofa, taking a deep breath. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until they head a loud, uneven scraping noise.
"Did you move the couch?" Henry shook his head slowly, staring at the fireplace, and then down at his shoes.
"Well it definitely wasn't me." The scraping started up again. "Weird, sounds like someone dragging a chair across the floor or something." Henry felt something tap his shoulder, and he looked up to see what had touched him. Too scared to speak, mouth slightly agape, he motioned for Emma to follow his gaze.
"Oh my god…" Hanging from the ceiling was an old, fraying rope, swaying back and forth slowly. Attached to the rope was the corpse of Robin Gracey.
Sherwood Manor, 1880
His soul had been anesthetized by lifeless chocolate colored eyes, the analgesia a welcome sensation. Time would adjust to his slowing heart, and cold skin became the new familiarity. Mockery soon took the form of copper hair and deviousness, revealing the fate of his bride. Anger and bitterness wanted to set the woman aflame, but detachment kept her alive, thriving off of empty threats. The mortal coil was temporary: Death would soon honor his wedding vows.
Robin's grief had consumed him, Regina's passing occupying his every thought. Only a few hours had passed, but it was enough to realize that there was only one way the night would end. He had to see her, even if that meant the unthinkable. Having laid his soul mate to rest in the garden, saying his goodbyes, he entered the parlor with a long rope and a chair. Suspending the rope from the ceiling, he stood on the chair and tied the noose around his neck. Had Madam Leota arrived ten seconds earlier, the chair wouldn't have been kicked out from underneath him, and the air wouldn't have left his lungs. As that was not the case, a scream was ripped from her throat.
Sherwood Manor, 2016
Lightening crashed in the distance, highlighting Emma and Henry's stunned expressions. A sudden feminine screech tore their attention away from the body, but when they looked back it had disappeared. They glanced at each other, unsure of what they just witnessed.
"So that was either a ghost…. or an actual dead body." Emma's gaze returned to the ceiling, trying to decide whether or not she believed in the paranormal. Henry, having gotten over the shock faster than his mother, dragged her out of the room, closing the door behind them.
"I'm pretty sure we'd notice a dead body as soon as we walked in, mom" Henry stated, feeling like the star in an episode of A Haunting. And that got him thinking: whatever had occurred here must have been horrific. "I wonder what happened to him." The answer was lost on both parties as they continued moving through the Manor.