Chapter 4
2010, somewhere outside of London
"Hello?" Kurt called. He had dropped his bags by the entrance to the estate. The gates that surrounded the home, were so high that he couldn't see the top of them from where he was standing. They were old fashioned, gothic style metal rungs that gave him the feeling that he was in the middle of an 'Adam's family' movie. He half- expected the gate to start shaking against the locks and for Wednesday to come and threaten to steal his soul...That would be an improvement over standing here.
Then he noticed something. The lock was not completely shut. He dropped his carry on and tugged on the lock, grinning happily when it opened for him. He removed it and pushed open the gates, easily.
He shrugged. I guess, she really must not be expecting intruders then, He said to himself.
He grabbed his bags and started walking. Each step brought a little bit more of the actual house into view. It resembled 'Casper' more than the 'Adam's family.' The house was done up, in a beautiful gothic style however, the grounds were not very well kept.
The grass was overgrown and the weeds and climbing wines plentiful. The home looked abandoned, but in a shockingly majestic way. As Kurt walked towards the entrance, something caught his eye in one of the few opened shutters. It was a face, mostly hidden from view in the shadows but still there it was. He looked for a moment, until [He assumed Connie] had left the window. He hoped, she was leaving to let him inside. All he wanted to do now, was sleep and sleep until the summer was all over.
He marched up the porch and using the Lion's head knocker, knocked on the door and waited. He had to stop himself to knock again, reminding himself that she was 78 and didn't move as quickly as she used to. He couldn't help but knock again after 10 minutes…then again after 20. What was possibly keeping her?
"Who you waiting for?"
Kurt just about jumped out of his skin, as he slowly turned around. It was an older woman, with her hair tied back in a loose bun and a pair of old spectacles rested on a crooked nose. She wore a full length blue and white flowered dress that bubbled around her, in an incredibly unflattering way. He noted the army boots she wore under the skirt that were coated in dried mud.
"I think you, are you Connie?" He said, trying not to let his annoyance show through his words.
She nodded. "That be right, Cherub."
He raised an eyebrow at the use of the word Cherub but decided that it be best not to comment.
"I'm Kurt, Burt Hummel's son," he said sticking out his hand for her to shake. She shook his entire hand with surprising strength.
"Hmm, do all your family's rhyme or is it just you two's?" She asked.
"Uh," Kurt muttered.
"Oh, never mind come in come in! You'll have to help me out, tomorrow."
"Oh, doing what?"
"The gnomes have invaded my garden and my pond, Cherub and I'll be needing some manly muscle to help me out and since the ghosts are useless…I'll have to turn to you." She said, untying a large skeleton key from around her neck and fitting it in the lock.
Kurt could find many, many things wrong with that sentence but he wouldn't want her to send the ghosts of the house on him so…better to deal with the crazy then provoke it.
"And here we are!" Connie stated, gesturing to the front foyer. "A few rules, before I send you off to your new bedroom. First, do not touch 'The Book'. And second, obey the first rule or risk death."
"Um, which book?" He asked.
The walls were lined with bookshelves and he could see more up the grand staircase and down the hallways on either side of him…how was it humanly possible to have this many books? He betted right then and there that this entire mansion did not have one speck of wallpaper. The bookshelves were the wallpaper!
But then again, the foyer did have that fantastic old book smell and used that as an air freshener by the smells of it.
"The Book," she replied. "You'll know it when you see it, Cherub. Don't worry about that."
She stared up the stairs and muttered under her breath, "those damn ghosts making a mess of things again and when I have a guest too."
If Kurt was not already filling out Connie's metal illness report already then he would ask her what size straight jacket she wore. Clearly, someone must live here with her? She couldn't be completely alone, it wasn't healthy.
"Well she was alone except for the ghosts," Kurt muttered.
"Cherub, don't worry about the ghosts. They just like causing some mischief and making me look nuts. Ignore them and hopefully they'll do the same to you."
She clapped her hands together and grinned. "Now, I'm sure you are tired! Your bedroom is on the second floor, third door from the right."
Kurt couldn't help himself. "Any roomies, I should worry about?"
"Just one, but he's a quiet one and won't bother you really." She answered, her face not once leaving a state of complete seriousness.
Kurt wondered if he would be this insane by the end of the trip…was it possible to bedazzle a straight jacket?
"Alright-y then, see you in the morning. To help you with the Gnomes, right?"
After years of dealing with Brittany and her innocent crazy, he had plenty of practice of how to go along with those type of things. Besides, it should be interesting to see what these Gnomes were, he was guessing frogs or maybe a large insect of some sort.
She nodded. "It's a big job, so you'll need all the rest that you can get."
"Okay and by the way how did you get all the way down from the third floor so quickly? Is there a secret back entrance that I should know about?"
Connie crooked her head to the side. "I was never upstairs, I was outside with the Gnomes, remember?"
Kurt blinked. He had been so certain that he had seen someone looking out the window. He had assumed that she had come down through another exit to surprise him.
"I thought I saw someone look out the window," he blurted out.
"Ah, it must have been the one I told you about, the quiet one. He must be curious by you."
Kurt found the room, fast enough and fell onto the plush quilt faster and fell asleep before he could even take off his shoes. He curled up on the pillows and was soon completely passed out. Connie's words nagged at the back of his mind while he passed into sleep but he shoved them off as absolutely ridiculous.
Still it crept into his dreams anyway.
The feeling that he was being watched, observed even. By those forces that he had always thought only loony birds believed in. But in his dreams he was believing it and it was chasing him. He couldn't move fast enough, he would catch him.
"Hey Hummel," a voice sneered from the darkness.
Kurt's eyes widened. He recognized that voice, of course he did. He run despite not knowing where he was running, it was all black and he couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face.
Then there was a face.
He stopped in his tracks. He was certain that he had never seen that face before but in a way it looked almost…familiar. The face vanished and he was left alone, fighting to escape that darkness that had taken over his life, just months before.
Kurt woke up screaming, not knowing once again that he was being watched from the shadows.
To say that Kurt was annoyed would be an understatement. He dropped back onto his bed and peeled off his mud coated boots. He was so glad that he hadn't worn his good pair, they would not have survived 'Gnome hunting.'
The Gnomes turned out to be just as he had thought, frogs. Connie seemed so enraged by said creatures invading the pond out back that she had to scare them all off. Kurt had spent the morning making loud noises to frighten them into the brush, just to have them hop back again. This terrified Connie and she forced him to scare them off again and again…and again.
He had only managed to escape when he noted the time and said how hungry he was. She agreed with him and stated: "we'll get rid of the heathens later, Cherub."
Kurt sighed, running his fingers through his hair- this was going to be one long summer.
"I will try defying gravity! I think I'll try-"
Kurt pressed talk on his phone before Indiana Medzel could get to the next line. He wouldn't want to alert Connie of anything, he was hoping that she'd just leave him up here for a few hours so he could…well do something besides scaring frogs.
"Hey, Dad, how's life? I just spend the morning de-gnome-ing the back pond."
He heard Burt sigh over the phone. "Well I know your aunt's a little-"
"Crazy, insane, out of her right mind…"
"Yeah, yeah I know but…I had to make sure that you were safe, Kurt. I wouldn't be able to stand it if you got hurt."
"I know, I know. I guess I'm a little bit annoyed anyway. This house honestly gives me the creeps. It feels like something's watching me everywhere I go and it's…frightening despite the fact that to prior belief…it's insane." He said, laying down on the quilt.
"Well, you're there for at least a week. If Connie turns out to be some crazy person then give me a call and I'll book the plane ticket. Just make sure that you help her, catalog some of her books though. There must be plenty of money in that collection…"
"Dad she uses book shelves as wallpaper and has separate rooms for more special books…my room is honestly stuffed full of manuals for…well everything. It's an interesting collection, that's for certain."
Burt laughed. "Not sure what to say to that but try to have fun, kiddo and I'll call you later."
"Yeah, love you."
"Love you too, Kurt."
Kurt muttered a quick goodbye and hung up his cell phone. He put it back on charge, on the old dated outlet above the desk. The house did have electricity but it was seriously out-dated to the extent that it couldn't be 100% safe. Kurt was certain that an electrical fire would bring the entire house down, considering the sheer amount of paper and cardboard that was everywhere. Still, he was glad for the limited amount of power despite that it didn't come with internet.
Kurt had set up his notebook and pens on the desk, very neatly. Yes, he did keep a journal and no it was not a diary. He did not- often- draw hearts around people's names inside of it. It was given to him after the 'incident' [As everyone seemed to call it] by Ms Pillsbury.
"I still keep a journal, Kurt. It helps that no matter what that little book isn't going to judge you and that it will always be there when you need it most. You don't have to write everyday but you should write as a way to vent out everything that you must be feeling now. It will help you get your mind back on track."
Kurt couldn't understand why people worried about him so much. He was a big boy and could take care of himself…still those memories haunted him and in a way he was glad of their support. Except, when it involved sending him halfway around the world- for his safety.
He sat down, on the high stool and flipped his journal to a new page. He never read over what he had already written. He felt that when he wrote something down, it was definite and didn't need any sort of revision.
Dear journal,
I have arrived, here. I'm still not sure where here is, though. The estate is miles and miles away from air-conditioning and the beloved internet and also my boo Mercedes. She normally would know what to say in a time like this so really I miss her the most. I hope she's doing well, I plan to call her tomorrow morning…finally figured out the time zones…
Well, I also spent the morning chasing frogs out of a pond…it was not very pleasant. I'm very glad that I didn't end up wearing my good boots! Despite the designer label they would not have survived the crazy.
Speaking of crazy, my aunt Connie is getting worse. She has placed me in a room meant for storing manuals that only has a bed because I think it was an actual bedroom before the How-To books took over. You can see some of the old room through the bookshelves but not much. I think this may have been a girl's room once because of the flowered wall paper behind the shelves. Besides this room, has a subtle smell of rose perfume. I still have not found it's source. There is a hundred year old fire place, though that is actually really pretty and the plaster carvings on the ceiling give the room some character and it's not half bad really. I would kill to bring that bed back with me though. I have already designed my room if I had some of these old fashioned things back home. It would have some charm, I think.
Speaking of crazy, I think I might be joining my aunt soon enough. Is it possible to bedazzle a straight jacket? That is the only way I could make one of those things look good… I honestly feel like sometimes someone is watching me. I sound nuts, but it's true.
Kurt looked up and around the room. He had been so sure that he had heard something. Like a footstep on the wood flooring.
"Anyone there? Connie?" He asked, to the empty room.
He rolled his eyes. All old houses have little noises, like that. It meant nothing and he shouldn't get so worked up over it. But he still glanced up and around him as he finished off his journal entry, muttering to himself about how crazy it all sounded.
It had taken years for Blaine to come to terms with what had happened. That he had been attacked and murdered and dragged off into the night. He had been certain that he was dead, he had seen it happen. But he had seen it happen from outside of his body.
He had seen the men cover his body with a blanket and carry him like he weighed no one than a sack of potatoes. Shocked, by the display he had fled. He didn't know if they had really thrown his body to the mighty waters of the Thames, to join the other lost souls whose lives had been lost there. Or if he had just been thrown into a trash bin somewhere.
Well neither could be it since he had watched the police search the entire city for him or better yet his remains. He had watched Rachel, so desperately try to find out what had happened to him. She had all the pieces, she just couldn't make them fit. Within the first few days of his death and odd afterlife he went to Rachel, hoping to comfort her.
She lay on her couch, her eyes stained red from worry and sorrow. She held a newspaper in her hands, the top article was Blaine Anderson's mysterious disappearance. He had walked up to her and tried to touch her face, to comfort her and say that he was alright. There was no need for her to worry and that he would find his way back somehow. His hand went straight through her, his eyes widened as he drew back. She shivered and drew her knit blanket closer around her shoulders.
That was when the truth truly sank in. He wasn't going back, he was trapped here, for what felt like all eternity.
He could hardly stand staying in London. The police had given up on him, claiming that it was just another unsolved British mystery to add to the vault.
Every once and a while Blaine would find someone who could see him, most of the time they ended up being complete whack jobs who didn't know how to help him. Blaine didn't know how to help himself, he still believed that he simply wasn't allowed into Heaven for the sins he had committed. For that he was forced to wander the world, in search of something.
That was when he found Connie. Who was a little rough around the edges but was still someone to talk to and he found other in-between spirits like himself living there. Afterlife was good until the day before, when he arrived.
Blaine knew that Kurt could see him.
He wanted to say something so badly but he could never have the courage. Kurt was different and to be honest reminded him a lot of Gavin. He was strong willed and so wildly different that even, he dapper Blaine Anderson was scared to say hello.
Because Kurt didn't believe in him and that was clear.
Well, he would just have to make him believe.