2
Sitting in the study of the mansion, Samantha's fingers were typing furiously an e-mail to her mother back in New York City, and although she was alone in the mansion, she was having a conversation with the prior tenants of the were supposedly quite a number of them on the estate, but there were only around seven to eight of them she saw regularly.
"Sam, you know what would be a great idea." Sassapis was a local Lennapi hunter who had died on the land almost five hundred years prior. "If you popped a pizza in the oven. Preferably pepperoni?"
"That's okay…" She looked up with a light smile. "But I'm very satisfied with my vanilla yogurt."
"What about dinner?" The Native American pressed on. "There's still a frozen Jumbo Grande pizza in the freezer getting freezer burns. Wouldn't it be nice to pop that in?"
"Maybe…" Samantha kept typing. "But it would be rude. Jay said he'd be bringing home dinner."
Watching the squirrels on the estate, former scoutmaster and travel agent Peter Torrance turned from the window after hearing the sound of Sassapis's obvious discontent. Clad in the garb of a Revolutionary War-era nobleman, Isaac was standing somewhat posed at the bookcase, his fingers lightly drumming his chest
"Come on…" Sassapis tried again. "You don't have to eat it. Just put it out so I can smell it."
"I know what he means…" Pete spoke up. "I miss Hot Pockets. Oh, and the KFC Bucket. Those eleven herbs and spices…."
"Fresh cod right off an ashen pit…" Thorfinn joined the conversation just as Isaac started chuckling.
"Amateurs…" Isaac turned to them. "A fine meal should consist of roast mutton, potatoes au gratin, glazed carrots, a Pouilly-Fuissé with slices of goat cheese on the side…"
"...hush puppies, cole slaw, a frosty glass of expensive beer…." Alberta added.
"Libertines…." Isaac felt a loss of swagger.
"Guys!"
"Babe," Jay's voice interrupted her as he entered the front hall. "I got you your favorite from Daisy's Coffee Shop." Jay entered the front hall of Woodstone Manor with an outtake bag in one hand and a cardboard drink carrier in the other hand. "I also picked up dinner from Worshams…. That place we visited last month?" To his left side, he heard Samantha's voice in the middle of a one-sided conversation in a room he knew was otherwise empty. Sitting at the desk and typing at her computer, she seemed to be looking up at the sixth shelf of books, but he knew it was something else entirely.
She was talking to the ghosts again.
"The place with that crab and shrimp salad…" She shined in his presence and rose from her seat to kiss him. "I loved that place."
"I know…." He watched as his wife clicked a button on her computer to send an e-mail and joined him on a stroll to the kitchen. Mulling behind her, the ghosts were following them on the way to the kitchen. It wasn't the full retinee of spirits. The group included Pete, a 1980s scoutmaster and travel agent who had died from an errant arrow to the neck, Sassapis and Thorfinn, two of the oldest ghosts on the estate, a Native American from the 1500s, and a Viking warrior who had once explored the area, Alberta, a vivacious and animated 1920s entertainer, and Isaac, a veteran of the Revolutionary War still clad in the opulent garb of the period. They were sometimes joined by Trevor, a 1990s Wall Street broker, who had lived a life of excess until his death in 1998, Hetty, one of the Woodstone's grand dames from the 19th Century, who was sometimes oft waxing nostalgia in the old gardens or visiting the family plot on the grounds, and then there was Flower, formerly Susan Montero, a 1960s flower child, whose group once camped in the woodlands near the estate.
"I also picked up the dry-cleaning, it's in the car, got the tires checked…." Jay continued. "And talked to a paranormal researcher signing his new book near Ossining about visiting Woodstone."
Only a few of the ghosts gasped as Samantha turned around on the kitchen floor. "What?"
"Yeah, I'm already feeling hesitant about that one." Jay confessed.
"What's a paranormal researcher?." Thorfinn responded.
"I know what they are." Hetty and Flower were also in the room. "At the turn of the century there was this new religion going on; they called it Spiritualism…." Hetty remembered. "And my children had these people in the mansion trying to contact me after my death."
"A big waste of time if you ask me." Isaac commented. "It does no good to join hands and call out to us if no one can see or hear us. The theatrics were amusing though."
"He's usually this tiny old man wearing glasses and scribbling notes in a little book." Hetty added. "Often putting objects in front of us to move…. But we never could."
"All those so-called psychics of the time were just con-artists and criminals…." Sassapis recalled that period. "Well, maybe one or two… They could sense us and describe us, but they really couldn't see or communicate with us like you Sam."
"They were more like drinking parties with food and ale…." Thorfinn added his recollection. "Mostly the ale…."
"Jay…." Samantha confronted her husband. "Why would you do that? We already know we have ghosts…. You didn't tell him I could see them, did you?"
"Oh, no…" Jay responded, trying to quell her fears. "I didn't mention anything about you…." He looked around the empty kitchen, but somehow he knew they were there. "I guess I was just annoyed with them constantly ratting me out…"
"That reminds me, he was scratching his back the other day with a serving spoon, but he did put it in the sink to wash it later." Isaac inserted.
"But as soon as I started driving back…" Jay continued. "I started getting second thoughts. I mean, I don't want to become one of those kooks people or pointing at and making jokes about."
"Actually, they would be pointing and laughing at Sam…." Sassapis pointed out. "Good move, Jay."
"Jay…." Samantha started pacing back and forth trying to deal with the anxiety. "I thought we were going to keep this to ourselves! We just can't put the cork back into the bottle if this gets out…"
"What kind of cork? Is there a bottle? What's in it?" Flowers looked around.
"...We could get a lot of attention we don't really want." Samantha continued. "Not all of it good."
"But don't haunted inns usually get good business." Jay asked. Samantha looked to the ghosts, and they all started shaking their heads in unison, all except Flower.
"That's not the only thing we need to worry about." Isaac stepped forward as the disputed spokesman for the group. "If this person wants to do a séance, it could turn out to be bad. The door swings both ways, and someone could come here we don't want, and it's crowded here already."
"I'm not sharing my room." Sassapis declared.
"Neither am I." Pete added.
"Neither am I." Alberta spoke up. "Unless it's Douglas Fairbanks or Rudy Valentino… I wouldn't kick them out for eating crackers in my bed!"
"Jay," Samantha made a stern but terrifying look. "I just hope this person doesn't tell anyone else!" She turned away wanting a sedative for her nerves from the upstairs bathroom, and Jay followed her from the kitchen. Isaac made a nervous and concerned look harkening back to his experiences in the Revolutionary War, already forming a line of defense in his consciousness. The ghosts looked among themselves a few times. Hetty recalled the seances, there had been seven to eight of them in the 1890s after her death and two or three in the later years. The last one at Woodstone was in 1922, attended by Harry Houdini, but they could not pierce the veil between the worlds to satisfy the great magician.
"I gotta admit…" Pete started talking. "I'm a bit scared, but I'm also a little excited. I mean, sure someone could join us from the other side, but he could also help us get sucked off. I wouldn't mind seeing my father again."
"I would love to see my boyfriend the bootlegger again." Alberta confessed. "So, I could tell him off a second time!"
"Hetty…" Flower was trailing a bit behind. "I bet you would like to see your husband again." The group was re-entering the main hall.
"Oh, I'm sure he went somewhere else." Hetty commented. "I buried him in a dress and high heels." A bit ahead of her and next to Pete, Isaac had stopped under the upstairs landing and was staring ahead. Sassapis had seen it first, and Pete and Hetty caught it next before the others. Billowing around the front doors, there was a dark misty smoke appearing, but it appeared to have size and content, like oil in a gaseous state. Behind it, a figure in black was passing through the interior doors. It was tall and dark, dressed in black robes similar to a monk or period cleric, but its hood hung down low dripping over its face and the darkness was flowing off it in the form of an ethereal black moved slowly and mechanically, as if it was an old man scanning its surroundings. It peered into the parlor once then turned its head with a crackling noise toward the study, but it must have sensed the ghosts next. Leaning on to a long thin staff with a bony skeletal hand, it lifted its face up to look upon them, and when it came to a stop, the dark mist parted to reveal a sheer white skull looking upon them with dark sockets where its eyes should be. From it came a dry gurgling noise of a creature trying to speak.
"Alberta, your date's here." Sassappis responded.