Chapter Four
Around eight John returned home bearing a feast of burgers and fries from the local burger joint. All three sat down at the dining room table and feasted on the greasy burgers and equally greasy fries which were also overly salted. Rose proudly stated her night's achievement, rescued her and Jacob from hours of sitting in darkness.
Near nine John tucked Jacob into bed.
Rose retreated to the bathroom to enjoy another soak and investigated her find from the basement.
She sat immersed in steaming hot water up over her bust, slipped one of the unlabeled cassettes into her Walkman then hit play and tucked the headphones over her ears. Her eyes frowned, heard what was instrumental music, electronic instrumental music with keyboards and what sounded like an electric violin, no vocals.
She checked another cassette and it too had similar instrumental music. Over and over she discovered each cassette had the same type of music. The last cassette was played, she frowned more for it sounded like an instrumental version of the ivory music box's melody but unlike the other songs there was a type of vocal, sounded haunting. She listened further, heard the high pitch of an electric violin that struck higher and higher with powerful notes and melody. She turned off the Walkman, removed the cassette then tossed it into the box. Into the Walkman was placed one of her typical metal favorites. She relaxed back against the slant of the large soaker claw foot tub.
Rose said goodnight to her dad who sat in the living room with the news on while he was buried deep in business papers. She carried the box of cassettes upstairs. Inside her bedroom she set the box near the box of records. She stepped to the bedside table, switched on the lamp then set down her glasses.
She suddenly startled, swore something moved from the corner of her eye. She spun and her eyes shifted side to side and scanned the room. Her eyes continued to frown as they anxiously looked to every corner of the room.
The room temperature dropped, seemingly at a rapid pace.
She hugged her arms over her chest in response to the chill and quickly started to shiver as she stood perfectly still within the silence of her room and the entire house. Not even the television was heard.
She pried her feet off the floor and shuffled anxiously to the double doors. When the door opened, she shouted, "Dad, is the heat on?" She felt the heat just outside the door then her dad confirmed with a shout that heat was definitely on.
Reluctantly she stepped back and closed the door. Something really weird was up with her bedroom and she didn't like it. Maybe, she thought, it was a draft through the fireplace.
She moved to the fireplace and reached a hand down but felt no draft. She again huddled her arms about her. Her eyes drifted upward and looked to the ivory music box. She took a step back with her eyes focused on the music box. Her mind scrambled with so many scenarios that might explain what was oddly happening.
In the past two years since Anne Garrett's passing, Rose had gotten somewhat desperate for a type of resolution concerning her mom.
Her head darted and eyes looked to the closet. Her feet scrambled across the floor. She flung open the door then lifted up on her tiptoes and reached up to the closet's top shelf. Her hand tucked under a quilt and grabbed a somewhat flat box. She dropped down on her feet then turned to the bed. She crawled atop the bed, gathered and wrapped the floral comforter over her shoulders.
Her eyes looked down at the worn cardboard box of what looked like a board game but not just any ordinary board game, an Ouija board to be exact. She removed the lid and looked down at a traditional Ouija board with an eye shape form of the alphabet, yes and no at the top corners, hello and goodbye at the bottom corners, and within that lettered eye zero through nine. She lifted the board then slid the box back and rested the board before her. She reached and removed the planchett and set it in the center of the board.
Many times she desperately tried to communicate with her departed mother but stopped after a year. Was she possibly being contacted by her mom or was it something in that house?
She anxiously shook her hands, tired to loosen up her fingers then wiggled them nervously as she neared them towards the planchett. She trembled from the cold and nervousness.
Before her fingertips could touch the planchett, it suddenly budged which caused her to lean back with a startled gasp. Her wide eyes rapidly blinked. Had she imagined it?
She again gasped with startle as it again moved. She hadn't even spoken a word or asked a question or even touched the thing. Her eyes shifted with the planchett which slowly turned to the left. She was frozen with fear, never saw a single movement from it in all the times she attempted to use it. She leaned further back and pressed against the metal headboard. Her eyes grew wider as they followed the planchett.
The planchett inched slowly as it turned itself upside down with the point aimed at a downward angle.
Her lips trembled while lightly gaped. Her breath was visible as it struck the icy air. Her eyes darted.
The planchett suddenly scraped across the board then skidded and stopped over 'hello'.
What the hell was happening?! Was she seeing what she was seeing?!
"Ah," she mumbled and fearfully neared her trembling right hand towards the stopped planchett, "Ah, um…hello…" Her fingertips finally touched the planchett and it felt just as icy as the air. She anxiously licked her lips then pressed them together as she dared and brought her left fingertips against the planchett.
"Ah, hello," she greeted with her voice shaky and dared to ask, "Um, Mom?" Again startled, she jerked her hands back.
The planchett darted diagonally up the board stopping over 'no'.
"Ah, ah," she mumbled, her body trembled uncontrollably and again she dared, brought both sets of fingertips to the planchett. She again greeted, "Ah, again, hello," she then asked, "Do I, um, know you?" This time she didn't startle when it moved, her fingertips barely touched it.
The planchett made a quick jerk down then darted back over the 'no'.
"Okay, well," she spoke, tried to calm her nerves then asked, "Was this your house?" She gasped when it again moved.
The planchett delivered her fingertips across the board to 'yes'.
"Okay," she gave a short nod, "Ah, the stuff in the basement…" before she could finish the question the planchett again moved.
The planchett swiftly moved back then darted over 'yes'.
"Huh," she somewhat laughed, had a mind reader for a ghost, "So, obviously you're dead and that's why your stuff is in the basement." Great, she thought, someone died in the house.
The planchett again did its quick movements and agreed with her mental note, landed back over 'yes'.
She swiftly pulled her hands back, did not liked the idea that who or whatever it was that was speaking through the Ouija could read her next thought. Her eyes stared widely at the planchett, terrified of even thinking anything. Maybe it was a bad idea that she whipped out the Ouija.
"Alright, whoever you are," she started to speak but silenced as the planchett again moved.
Her eyes darted, tried to keep pace with the swiftly moving planchett. Her mind gathered each letter it pointed to, apparently it was introducing itself. Her eyes frowned as the letters formed a name in her head then spoke it aloud, "Jerry."
The planchett darted to 'yes'.
"Um, hi," she swallowed hard, "Ah, Jerry." She startled again.
The planchett darting to 'hello'.
"Yeah, maybe we should say goodbye now, Jerry." she spoke as she breathed heavily, her breaths still visible. Her eyes frowned.
The planchett went to 'no'.
"Um, yeah," she nodded and thought, was she seriously gonna argue with a damned Ouija board?
Suddenly the planchett started to move in rapid circles against the board.
Her eyes tried to keep watch then she gasped the moment the planchett flew off the board. "Oh, that's not good," she mumbled, realized she made a terrible mistake having messed with the Ouija board and was beyond creeped out by what had come through it.
A planchett leaves the board on its own accord; the speaking spirit is released.
She quickly grabbed the board, crammed it into the box then reached and frightfully snatched the planchett, tossed it atop the board then placed the lid back on. She rushed and literally tossed the so called spirit board game into the closet then slammed the door.
Her breathes continued heavy but gradually became invisible as the room's temperature raised. She sighed with relief then looked to her bed. She really didn't want to sleep in that room alone.
She whined, "Oh, this is going to be a long night."
She knew she couldn't go downstairs and explain to her dad she messed with an Ouija board he never knew about and she really didn't want to sleep in her own bed. She stepped to the bed then sat down and looked around the room.
"Okay," she spoke aloud, "Maybe you're not still in here because the cold is gone but, please, if you're still here just go away and don't come back, okay, Jerry whoever you are."
She lifted her legs, shifted on her rear and pulled back the sheet. Very cautiously she slipped her legs under the sheet then gathered the comforter over her. Her eyes continued to look about the room., afraid to turn out the lamp and refused to do so.
"Just go away," she whispered, tucked the blanket over her head, "Go away."
The lamp atop the bedside table lamp started to flicker, first very subtly then gradually dimmed and brightened with a type of strange pulse. The bedroom started to cool, dropped degree by degree in sync with the lamp's pulses.
Hours had passed, Rose had fallen asleep with her head covered but upon the lamp's rapid pulses the blanket slowly lowered under her squinting eyes. She peered at the lamp. Immediately she felt the drop in temperature then when her whole head was uncovered her breaths were visible. Her eyes blinked against the pulsated dimming and brightening flashes. Her eyes slowly shifted and looked across her room.
The lamp started to dim all way into darkness then suddenly brightened, created a strobe effect.
She slowly sat up as her eyes tried to focus where the short entryway was, the room again was freezing. Before her strained and blinking eyes, she caught what looked like a black silhouette that formed at the entryway.
Was she dreaming? Was she having a nightmare?
The cold felt damned real and so did the quick visuals of her breaths.
Her body started to tremble as her eyes were frozen in a stare. Each quick flash of light seemed to bring that silhouette more into a human shape.
Suddenly the bulb in the lamp made a loud pop and the room was swallowed by darkness.
She screeched and quickly dropped back and ducked under the covers.
She lay there under the covers which seemed like forever. Her body continued to tremble as she listened to her deep and erratic breaths. Everything was too quiet, eerily quiet with only the sound of her breathing. She was too frightened to actually pull back the covers, afraid she'd see something even more frightening.
"Go away," she whispered with a tremble with her eyes squeezed tightly closed.
She startled the moment that damned ivory music box started to chime its now creepy melody. "Go away," she spoke a bit louder, brought her hands over her ears and tried to block out the eerie tune.
She started to hum loudly one of her metal tunes and gradually started to sing the words to the song We're Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister in desperation to drown out the music box. "We're not gonna take it," she sang, "No, we ain't gonna take it," she continued to sing, "We got the right to chose it…and there ain't no way we're gonna lose it" she hummed then started to sing again, "We're not gonna take it... No, we ain't gonna take it anymore."
She went silent, the music box stopped. She slowly sat up and inched down the blankets from over her head. Her eyes pried open, first the right then the left. Through the room her eyes scanned, tried to catch any glimpse of anything remotely really scary like that silhouette. She felt the temperature again begin to warm.
Maybe it went away, she hoped.
She guessed with a shrug. Who knew that Twisted Sister warded of a ghost?
She slowly laid back, her trembling hands loosened their grip of the blankets. Her eyes peered up at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She carefully rolled onto her side and tugged the covers over her shoulder. She lay there, her eyes stared at the closet door with hopes that whatever just happened would never happen again.
Maybe she should get rid of the board. Maybe she shouldn't have screwed with the board in the first place.
Her eyes shifted and looked the white ivory music box.
Maybe she should've thrown the music box out with the other stuff instead of confiscating it.
"No," a voice spoke.
Her entire body stiffened with fear. Did she just hear that?
"Yes," there it was again.
She felt the urge to scream but was too scared to scream. Her body remained stiff while she started trembling again. She couldn't tell where those answers came from but they were answering her mental questions, just like the board did. That couldn't be possible, she tried to convince herself.
"Ah, but it is." the voice again spoke from somewhere in the room.
"Go away!" she said with a raised whisper.
"I can't." the voice again spoke.
"Yes you can." she disagreed then pleaded, "Just go away, please."
"I would if I could." the voice replied.
She breathed heavily through her nose, her nostrils flared as her eyes remained wide and almost teary with fear. "Why not?" she asked. Seriously, she asked in thought, was she having a conversation with a damned ghost?
"Because I'm stuck here and I'm always going to be stuck here." the voice answered her verbal question then answered her mental one, "And yes you are."
She heard actual angry frustration in the voice. "Well, leave me alone then." she suggested, refused to shift her eyes or move at all.
"You shouldn't have said hello." the voice commented.
"You said it first." she quickly argued, "You shouldn't have said hello and," she tossed back her covers then slowly sat up and commented, "You shouldn't have taken the planchett off the board."
"Ah, but I did." the voice stated, "I knew what I was doing because if I hadn't I wouldn't be speaking to you right now."
"Oh, then you're a bad ghost." she commented without shifting her eyes, kept them forward.
"Perhaps," the voice said, "If you didn't want to speak to me then you shouldn't have brought out the spirit board."
"But you were already here." she stated, couldn't determine where the voice came from then accused, "You've been making it get cold and you've been playing the music box and you caused the breaker to trip when those clocks went off." she gave a nod, "So, I had nothing to do with why you're here just only why you're talking to me, that's all."
"No, you aren't the reason why I'm stuck." again the voice spoke with the sound of frustration, "I'm stuck because I died in that damned basement."
She suddenly startled, heard one of the window shades dart up. She finally shifted her eyes and looked to find the neighbor facing window's shade up. "Stop it," she slightly whined.
"He's why I'm stuck, why I'm dead." the voice said with a growth of rage.
"Charley Brewster, my neighbor?" she asked, confused and not sure if she wanted to know any more details, "I don't wanna know." She shook her head, decided that details weren't wanted or desired.
"Ah, but I finally have someone to tell it to." the voice stated, "Don't take that away from me, Rose."
She slightly gasped, heard it speak her name.
"I've been stuck here for a damned year while that little son of a bitch goes on living." the voice explained with bitterness, "He and that damned Peter Vincent," the voice seemingly growled, "How they managed to do it, it dumbfounds me to this day." the voice grew angrier, "I know how but I'm baffled how they managed to do it. They actually killed me!"
The room's temperature rapidly plummeted.
"I don't wanna hear anymore." she shook her head as her eyes fearfully scanned the room for any physical sign of where the voice came from. She could again see her breath in the subtle darkness. Her arms lifted and hugged over her chest. "Please just go away." she pleaded, "I'm sorry I spoke to you. I won't mess with the board again I promise."
"I'm not sorry you spoke to me and there is no need for the board is there?" the voice questioned then stated, "Once the planchett went off the spirit board I was freed of most limitations." then it oddly thanked her, "Thank you, Rose."
"No, don't thank me." she shook her head again, "I ain't thanking me." then commented, "I made a huge mistake now I'm paying for it. Why couldn't you've been my Mom instead of whoever you are?"
"Jerry Dandridge," the voice spoke the full name then commented out of context, "You look like your mother."
"Huh," she mumbled, "What?"
"The photo, your mother," the voice of Jerry Dandridge explained, the voice of Charley Brewster's neighbor vampire long believed completely destroyed.
That fateful morning Jerry Dandridge was delivered into a type of purgatory where he was condemned to be a permanent spectral resident of his final home.
"She was very beautiful." he commented as through his spectral eyes he studied the framed photo of Rose's mother set atop the fireplace mantel. His eyes shifted. He looked to the searching young lady and commented, "As you are beautiful."
Oh great, Rose grumbled in thought, a ghost was complimenting her. She heard a laugh. "Stop that," she demanded then asked, "Why ya gotta read my thoughts? How the hell are ya reading my thoughts?" she then whined, "Oh, this sucks, really sucks."
"Think of my situation," he commented, "I'm stuck in a house I never had a chance to finish restoring while everything I've collected is thrown out besides the few things you've kept. Now it's been made that I've never even existed when I've existed a lot longer than anyone in this pathetic little town, state, or even country."
She blinked, confused by what the hell he tried to say. "Go away!" she shouted then flopped back and jerked the covers back over her head, "You don't exist! You're a stupid bad dream! I'll wake up tomorrow and you won't be here!"
"No I won't," he agreed, "Not until the clocks go off." then he grumbled, "Can't believe I have to suffer the same damned routine in death as I did in life."
She jerked the blankets off her face with her eyes frowned, "What?!"
"When the clocks chime dusk here I am and when they chime dawn there I go." he explained with annoyance, "The same as when I was alive. This is my hell and now you're part of it."
"No I'm not!" she disagreed, "You're dead, I'm not and what are you talking about?!" She again sat up.
"Charley didn't mention me did he?" he asked, stood leaned against the fireplace and watched her shake her head, "Oh but of course he didn't. Why would he? I'm positive the entire town won't even mention me to you or your family. I know the realtor sure in the hell didn't mention me to your father. She probably made it sound as if I up and vanished without word and left all my belongings." he shook his head with frustration, "How I used to love my solitude, kept to myself and did everything to make sure no one truly knew I existed. Well, I got what I wanted for the only ones who remember me are Charley Brewster, Amy Peterson, and that washed up Peter Vincent but," he slightly smiled, "Now you will remember me."
"I don't want to," she quickly stated, "And you're not even answering any of my questions. Wait, don't." she shook her head, "Just stop talking to me and go away."
"Again, I'm not going anywhere because I can't." he grimaced, crossed his arms over his chest, "Ask Charley about his previous neighbor Jerry Dandridge and see what reaction you get. Maybe he'll say something or maybe he won't. Most likely he's been desperate to forget about me, the little bastard. I should've just taken him out of the equation when I truly had the chance instead of messing around."
"Oh, you are bad." she gasped, fearfully jerked the covers nearer her chest, "What did ya do to him?" she again shook her head, "Wait, I need to stop asking questions because I don't wanna know anything about ya."
"Too late, you asked." he smirked, "I guess it doesn't make a difference if you know what I am or should I say, was because, well, I'm dead."
He stepped away from the fireplace and continued to relieve his silence, "What I tried to do to Charley Brewster was eliminate a problem, my problem. I did, however, give him the option to forget about me and what he had seen of me but unfortunately he didn't take that option which left me no choice to make an attempt on his life. Typically I don't make attempts, I succeed but as fate has it, I didn't succeed which undoubtedly made him succeed, hence, I'm dead." he paused before the bed, "Charley discovered my secret, a secret I've successfully kept for a very, very long time. Sure, there have been other close calls but nonetheless the secret was kept."
He frustratingly huffed, "He tried desperately to convince people of my secret but most thought he was simply a lunatic teenager. He even attempted to alert the police but thankfully that failed. Even Peter Vincent didn't believe at first. His girlfriend," he paused and grinned in remembrance of sweet and innocent Amy with an all too familiar face, "Yes, his girlfriend and best friend didn't believe him and did their best to convince him that I wasn't what he said I was. Peter was the first to be convinced because of a little mirror. I took every precaution necessary. I brought the best friend to my side then focused on the girlfriend. Everything I did to maintain my secret was done in vain because, here I am stuck." His eyes scanned the walls that were once beautifully tasteful and hung with those lovely portraits but now cluttered over by long haired musicians wearing feminine makeup, "Likely, stuck forever inside these walls."
"Okay, you told me whatever so now get lost!" she said then again flopped backwards and tugged the covers back over her head.
He snapped, "I'm already lost!" Then with just the focus of his eyes he stole her hiding place.
She gasped loudly, the covers were jerked off her. Her eyes went wide and she quickly asked, "How'd you do that?"
"Like I said," he spoke with a smirk, "I am now void of most limitations."
"Bullshit," she commented and sat up again, "If you were then why can't I see you?"
"Do you want to see me?" he curiously asked with hope, "Would you like to see the bad ghost you've been conversing with?"
"Actually, no I don't." she refused then shook her head, "That'll just make it worse."
"Might make it better." he smugly stated.
She frowned, heard his arrogance then again refused, "No," she shook her head, "I already don't wanna hear you so, no, I don't wanna see you." she snatched her covers, again flopped down against the bed and jerked the covers over her head, "Goodbye, Jerry Dandridge!" Again her covers were jerked off her.
"Stop that!" she whined then snatched the covers again but that bothersome something seemed to have a hold of them and she demanded, "Let go!" she grumbled, "Gah, this is nuts!" She grabbed a pillow, flopped down then gathered her legs up and covered her head with the pillow.
From beneath the pillow, she loudly stated, "I'm officially shit crazy!"
"No, you're not." he commented with a little laugh then stepped around the corner of the bed and along the side, "But I do question your taste in music, if that's what you call it."
"I can say the same about you." she mumbled as she kept her head hidden under the pillow. She commented, "Your music is creepy like you are."
"Strange," he frowned, "I've never been called creepy." he stated as he looked down at her poor attempt to block him out then smugly stated, "In fact, most young ladies, actually all women of any age even men have always found me irresistible."
She somewhat laughed then sarcastically commented,"Yeah, too bad no one can see you."
He slyly offered, "I'll let you see me." His lips formed his signature slanted grin.
"No thanks," she refused with her voice somewhat muffled under the pillow then urged, "Again, go away before my Dad wakes up and thinks I've lost my damned mind!"
"I'm not going anywhere, can't and won't." he firmly stated then added, "I spent a year in this house alone, besides the occasional urban legend seekers but they stopped months ago. So," he sat down on the edge of the bed, "Now that my voice is being heard, I refuse to relinquish this opportunity."
She felt the distinct motion as if someone had sat down and quickly asked, "You're sitting on my bed aren't you?"
"Yes I am," he answered then urged her, "If you would, uncover your head."
"No," she again refused.
"I would like for you to see who you've been speaking to, see your ghost and know you're not insane." he urged then leaned back against the headboard, "Please, it'll be nice to finally have someone look at me instead of through me." he somewhat attempted sympathy, "I have spent my entire life having young ladies such as yourself immediately look at me and unable to stop looking at me." He missed his life which seemed shorter than expected though he was approximately a thousand years old when his immortal life was taken.
"You sound conceded." she commented then smartly added, "You're full of yourself or was or whatever."
"There is nothing wrong knowing how attractive you are." he stated with confidence of his abundance of attractiveness, "I promise you won't be disappointed if you take just a peek."
She grumbled under the pillow, "I need sleep, unlike you, I have to get up in the morning; again, unlike you." she continued to sarcastically grumble, "I have a life unlike you. Yeah, just vanish already."
He shook his head then rose up off the bed, "Fine," he faked disappointment, "I'll leave you to your sleep." His eyes focused on her as he kept silent. He watched closely as she finally lifted the pillow off her head, obviously believed he vanished as she requested.
She slowly sat up with her eyes shifting as her hands reached for the covers. She didn't hear another word. Had she been dreaming? Was she just waking up from a really annoying dream or was it a nightmare?
Slowly she shifted on her rear, brought the covers over her. Very cautiously she started to shift onto her right side with her head following then eyes. Her eyes caught up with her body then she startled with a short screech. She scrambled backwards across the bed. Backwards she dropped off the bed and hit the floor with a thud, her legs were left awkwardly up and against the side of the bed.
She groaned, on her back on the floor then heard an amused laugh. "Why?!" she asked with a loud pout in her tone, "Why did you do that?! I said I didn't want to see you!"
She dropped her legs to the floor then sat up and groaned, "You scared the shit out of me, again!" She refused to get back onto the bed, didn't want to look at him again though she really didn't get a good look which was the way she wanted it to remain.
"Damn you, just leave me the hell alone!" she whined then leaned back against the wall with her arms tightly crossed over her chest.
"Yes, I'm damned." he agreed, looked down at her.
She shook her head, sick and tired of him talking to her. She grumbled, "That's it!"
She quickly rose up, scrambled onto the bed then crawled across it and snatched the Walkman off the bedside table. She put the headphones over her ears, pressed the play button, and turned the volume to the max, "Make him go away, Mr. Rob Halford!" she pleaded then flopped on her side then grabbed the covers and hiked them over her head as she listened to the British steel metal god deafen her to anymore unwanted babbles from a dead guy. She hummed to the music, loved the melody of Turbo Lover.
Beneath the covers she hugged the Walkman against her chest, tightly closed her eyes and wanted nothing but to fall asleep and wake in the morning where there would be no ghost bothering her
(Author)
Blah, Blah, Blah! HAHA! I just crack up when I read this stuff again!
FRIGHT NIGHT FOREVA!