The house seemed to look down on Ray, with its many windows taking on the
look of many eyes staring at him. The front doors almost becoming an open
mouth.
It reminded Ray of gigantic jaws, waiting for its prey to hop inside them.
Yep, Ray thought, I'm gonna die.
"Hey, you're here!" Favish said tapping Ray on the shoulder. He had been hiding in the bushes and had seen Ray walk up to the house.
Ray jumped almost a foot in the air, and let out a half screech. Favish focused his flashlight on Ray and grinned.
"Sorry about that", Ray said. "I was just waiting for you guys to get here."
"We were here", Favish replied. "We were just waiting for you to get here." Behind him, members of Favish's gang began to pile out of the bushes. Ray noticed this, but said nothing about it.
"Now, the rules are that you, Raymond Francis Stantz, must spend at least five hours inside the famous Morrisville haunted house, otherwise known as the Powell Mansion. If you, Raymond Francis Stantz, chicken out of it within five minutes before the allotted time, then you, Raymond Francis Stantz, will be publicly declared a chicken in a public forum of our choosing." Favish smiled, his face looking like a wolf.
"Do you understand all that, Stantz?"
"I get it. Where do I spend the night?"
"The basement. It's where everyone spends their night."
Ray gulped and looked back at the house; more and more it was beginning to take on the persona of the evil that had once inhabited it.
"Are you guys coming in with me?" Ray asked. It sounded more like a last request for someone about to face the firing squad.
Favish shook his head. "Of course not; we're going to hang out here and wait for five to hit. We'll come and get you.if you've lived long enough." Favish and his friends laughed haughtily at his joke. Ray, too, could not help but elicit a chuckle, even if it was a weak one.
Shaking Favish's hand one last time, Ray turned towards the house and began to walk towards the steps. His legs felt heavier with each step. Behind him, he swore he could hear one of Favish's friends humming "Taps".
The doorknob felt cold in Ray's hand; strangely enough, dust was not on it, but when Ray thought about it, it was not so strange. Kids in the neighborhood came up to this house all the time, always gripping the doorknob to where dust did not have the time to settle.
Ray looked behind himself one last time at Favish and his friends. Favish shot Ray a thumb up, showing that he had total confidence in the kid. His friends soon followed, chanting Ray's name is if they were leaders at a football game. Ray's heart fluttered a little bit, giving him a little bit of confidence. He turned the knob and opened the door to the Powell mansion. It was dark, too dark in fact for anybody to look inside.
"You're going to need this kid", one of Favish's friends said to Ray, tossing him a flashlight.
"Thanks", replied Ray. He looked back at the inside of the house and shined a flashlight inside. It fell on the very steps that Commissioner Loeb had found Mrs. Powell forty-seven years ago. True to the stories, the bloodstain was still there. Gulping again, and helped by the whoops of hope given by Favish and his friends, Ray entered the house and closed the door behind him.
It creaked like his room window.
. . .
This isn't so bad, Ray thought looking around the house. A lot redecorating and this place could be cool again. He knew he was only saying this because he had a flashlight; if he didn't have that, he also knew he'd be in bad shape.
Everything inside the Powell house had virtually been left the same as the police had left it since that terrible day in 1933: there were various paintings of different subjects, varying from animals to humans, to some of the house itself and portraits of the Colonel and Mrs. Powell. On this painting, Ray noticed how beautiful the Colonel's wife was, with her raven black hair falling upon her shoulders, an unusual style for that time. On the Colonel himself, Ray was kind of frightened by him. The Colonel seemed to come from a different era altogether, dressed in formal military uniform, perhaps the same one had worn at his wedding. He was also bald, most of his hair coming from the side of his head. His mustache, curled at the tips, looked very distinguished and well kept.
But it wasn't that what scared Ray; it was the Colonel's eyes really. He heard stories from the people that had known the Colonel personally (there was always twenty or thirty people in town who did) that the reason the Colonel was so successful in his battles was that he had to simply stare at his enemies. He had cold, dark eyes, black enough to be coal and mysterious enough to baffle even Holmes. And this was Ray shining a flashlight on a painting, yet it was taking a life of its own. Perhaps the Colonel was planning his wife's death in this painting? Ray wondered. He didn't want to think of the answer.
Shaking off the odd feeling he got from the painting, Ray explored more of the house. Time had not been well to the kitchen, the tile on the floor nearly unrecognizable. Looking in the sink, Ray wrinkled his nose at the stench from the five decades old dishwater with dishes in it. There wasn't any food inside, and Ray began to wonder if that was due to hikers and bums coming up here and taking all of it. There were two plates set at a small table, the silverware already laid out.
Getting out of the kitchen, Ray went upstairs. As he was crossing the bottom step, he felt a cold chill pass through him. That was the very step where Commissioner Loeb found Mrs. Powell's dead body. Going further up, the feeling left Ray, which he thought was weird. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising in fear.
The hallway seemed endless to Ray; even as he showed the light down it, he couldn't see the end. He walked down it, not knowing fully what would await him at the other side. He checked all of the other rooms along the way, nothing much out of the ordinary inside of them, but stopped when he came up the fifth room on the left. The Master Bedroom, the very room that Loeb had found the Colonel. Much like the house he built, Powell's room seemed shrouded in eternal darkness.
Ray poked his head inside, followed by the flashlight. He found it difficult to hold it steady in his shaking hand. He started at one end of the room, noticing a framed picture sitting on the bedside nightstand and the neatness of the bed itself. The other end was particularly average as well.
Sighing in relief, Ray stepped inside the room. He would spend the night here, he thought, in the room where Powell killed himself. Let the kids of Morrisville know that I did.
He didn't find any chairs about, though there was a desk facing the window. Against his better judgment, Ray sat down on the Colonel's bed, dust flying up in all directions. Ray coughed a couple of times.
Hey, this is pretty comfortable, he thought as he began feeling how soft the bed was. He laid his head down on the old pillow and immediately went to sleep, the dream of being famous dancing around his head.
. . .
It was Favish that shook Ray awake from his dream.
"Hey, Stantz! You all right?"
Ray looked at him bleary-eyed and yawning. He was surprised to see Favish in the house, less than thirty minutes after Ray had gone inside.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his mind finally focused.
"Just giving you your 3:30 checkup", replied Favish. Ray could barely see in the dark, but the light of the moon falling on Favish's face told him that the other boy had a look of concern on him.
"Wait a minute", Ray said. "It's 3:30! As in '3:30 in the morning'?"
"Yeah, it is about that time", Favish said. "Anyway, now that I know you're alright, I guess I'll be on my way."
No sooner than he had said it, a crash was heard in the opposite room. Both boys got up and looked in the hallway. To their surprise there was nothing outside except darkness. "I wonder what that was", Favish said. He went out into the other room to check out the source of the noise, leaving Ray in the doorway of the Master Bedroom.
The house was suddenly a little bit darker. Only an hour left before I can leave, Ray thought.
Behind him, Ray thought he heard what sounded like footsteps. He turned around slowly and his jumped a little bit at what he saw. There, walking closer and closer towards Ray was the Colonel. There was horror on his face, more so apparent with his whiskers standing on end. His dark, black eyes stared at Ray much the same way as his portrait had. He was dressed in a similar military style that he had worn in the painting.
Around the Colonel's neck was a rope, Ray noticed. As the dead man got closer, he realized that it was not just a rope, but a noose.
"A NOOSE!" Ray screamed in his mind.
"You have intruded upon my home," the ghost of the Colonel said slowly. "You come inside my bedroom. Where I sleep. Where my wife sleeps." Getting closer, Ray could see that the Colonel's hand was going into his jacket pocket. The same exact spot where the oldsters say that he kept his famous Webley.
"P-P-Please sir", Ray sputtered, his fear getting the best of him. "I was only kidding around." The Colonel began pulling out whatever it was in his hand. Ray saw the dull gleam of the revolver shining from the light caused by the moon outside. He began to back out of the room now as the Colonel was no more than a mere two feet from Ray's face.
"You see, and you'll probably find this funny, but I came inside here mostly on a dare." That seemed to get the Colonel's attention Ray noticed. "I-I came here just to get accepted into a friend's little group. He dared me to spend the night at your house Colonel Powell."
"So does me not being around my home give you the right---no, the distinction---to enter another man's home?"
"Actually sir, I'm just a kid." Ray realized that what he said was not the right thing, as the Colonel, despite his ghostly demeanor, seemed to grow angrier. His revolver was now out of his pocket and was now also pointed at Ray's head. Ray knew he had no place to go; his back was to the railing of the stairs.
"Give my regards to the Devil when you meet him", the Colonel said and fired two shots from his Webley.
Ray screamed and fell backwards from the top of the stairs.
He expected to fall face forward onto the hard, squeaky floor. At least, he thought, Carl wouldn't have to worry about killing him later, or Jean not getting the attention that she supposedly needs from their parents.
But he didn't fall on the floor face first; somehow, he had fallen onto a couch, though the impact at which he had hit it caused it to collapse. Ray laid there for several seconds as he regained his consciousness. He looked up at the stairs and saw the Colonel walking down towards him, stopping once to rub the portrait of his wife.
Not wasting time, Ray ran to the door and tried opening it. He fumbled a little bit, trying to find the doorknob (he'd left his flashlight back in the Master Bedroom); when he did, he found out, to his horror, that it was locked. They hardly ever locked this door, on account of the fact that tourists would pick any locks Captain Fuhrman and the Morrisville PD put on it.
Behind him, Ray noticed the Colonel was getting closer, his revolver pointed at him.
Come on, man, come on! Ray shouted in his mind fiddling with the knob. Just as the Colonel was about to place his hand on Ray's shoulder, the knob finally clicked and Ray pulled it open, running as quickly as he could outside and into the woods.
He didn't begin to slow down until he was sure the house was far behind him. The house really was haunted, he thought to himself, walking slower and slower. Taking a breather, he looked back at the Powell house. The ghostly Colonel was nowhere to be found.
He hung his head down. He knew that he had bailed before the allotted time and therefore would be called chicken by the other kids in Morrisville.
"Ah the moral trouble", said a familiar voice behind him. "I have seen that happen before sahib."
Startled, Ray looked for the source. He didn't look far, as he was now facing a bright pink face!
"Do not be upset sahib, it is only I", Malvolio said.
"What are you doing-" Ray began to ask what was Malvolio doing here, but didn't. He had read too many issues of Captain Steel to know that some things were better left unasked. The thought of how the imp had managed to get out of the pen without Ray summoning him was also puzzling.
"You.changed", Ray said panting. True, Malvolio had indeed changed his appearance from when Ray had seen him last. No longer was a small elfish looking thing, but he was now a large, pink thunderbolt of a figure.
"Ah, yes. With each wish I grant, my power is augmented. I merely revert back to my original form, before the incident of the hobgoblin." Ray nodded, though he didn't understand.
"Well, help me get home Mal", said Ray sorrowfully. "I have a story to tell but no one will believe me."
"Do not be so gloomy master", Malvolio said. "We have enough time. Please, tell your tale."
So Ray revealed everything that had happened to him in the past four hours, how he felt when he walked into the house, what he saw, and how the ghost of the Colonel nearly killed him.
"He points his revolver at me and fires three rounds into my chest!" Ray said. "I think that maybe he either missed my heart or I'm just bleeding to death."
"You're not bleeding."
"What?"
"I said you're not bleeding", Malvolio repeated and illuminated Ray's shirt, giving Ray a better look at it. Examining his shirt carefully, Ray smelled a familiar scent upon it.
"Its paint", Ray said. Malvolio only nodded.
"Climb upon my back sahib", he said. Ray looked at the imp quizzically.
"Are you kidding?"
"No, I am not. I am solid and I will not drop you."
Ray figured what else he had to lose. He walked slowly over to the imp and, with some help, was hoisted upon its back.
"Are you ready?" Malvolio asked. "Good. Now we're off!"
For the first time that night, Ray got a taste of what it felt like to fly, though he wished it was under more pleasant circumstances. Malvolio's speed was immense, as he was covering the ground faster than Ray had done running.
They did not land at the front door; rather, Malvolio and Ray landed on the second story window. Ray went in first (the window broken a long time earlier). He waited for Malvolio to enter behind him, but was surprised to learn that his friend was able to walk through solid objects!
Ray then realized that they were back in the Colonel's Master Bedroom and a chill ran down his spine. He didn't want to see the insane ghost of Colonel Powell, even if his gun wasn't made of real bullets.
Getting closer to the door, the two of them heard voices coming from downstairs. They were apparently loud enough that Malvolio and Ray did not have leave their positions. Instead, they waited at the door and heard what was being said. One of the voices Ray recognized as belonging to Favish.
"Aw man that was one hell of a trick!" he said laughing. "I'll never be able to top that one, not for a million years!"
"Yeah Al", said another voice, Ray realized belonging to the tall boy in Favish's gang. "We taught that Stantz kid something good!"
"Right, he'll never mess with Elaine again", Favish agreed. "I wish I could have broken his nose again though."
"Hey, he'll get it even worse tomorrow when we tell everyone what a great, big yellow-belly is he is!" There was more laughing.
"That's all fine and dandy", said another voice, this one older than Favish and his friend. "But I was under the impression that I was going to get paid for this job."
"Right, right Ted", Favish said. "Here's a ten, go get juiced."
"Thanks son."
By this time Ray was at the very top of the stairs, having edged closer and closer to that point. He saw Favish give the money to Old Ted, the town drunkard; he saw Favish and the boy give each other high fives. But all this seemed inconsequential when Ray saw Favish wear his smile, the very one that had made Ray trust him. So, he thought, it was all a trick to embarrass me in front of Elaine. He could feel the tears coming to his eyes, which were quickly wiped away by Malvolio.
"You are sad sahib", the imp said mournfully. "I can sense your anger towards them, these people who have made a fool of you. Who have."
"You don't have to make it any worse Malvolio!" Ray shouted, though quietly enough that Favish and the others didn't hear. "I know what they did to me. I just wish."
"I just wish."
"I just wish that something ibad/i would happen to Alan Favish."
"Hey", Favish said. "When'd it get darker?" Ray too began to scratch his head. The inside of the Powell house had suddenly become pitch black, dark enough to where even Ray could barely see the imp sitting beside him.
"Watch this", said Malvolio as he slunk downstairs to where Favish and his friend were standing.
Favish looked around him, trying to feel his way around, cursing every time he bumped into something. "Dang, Jake where are you?"
"Over here Almmmmph."
"What was that?" Favish called into the darkness. He received no answer. "Okay, if you want to play like that, I'm just going to head on home."
i"You're not going home just yet Alan Rutherford Favish"i
Had Ray been able to see, he would have laughed to have seen Favish wear the same expression of puzzlement that Ray had worn earlier that day.
"Who are you?" Favish asked loudly. "Jake, if that's you, you're asking for an ass-whipping of a lifetime for using my middle name like that."
i"I am not the one called Jake, nor any other being that you have known."/i
"Really? Then if you're not Jake or Ted or anybody else I know, then what the hell are you?"
There was a high sweet laughter in the air that creeped up and down Ray's spine. Then, a stellar light (similar to the color of Malvolio's pen) illuminated the whole room. There, Ray saw that he and Favish had the same expression of fright on their faces.
Favish was standing in the middle of the floor, his knees suddenly shaking badly. In front of him was Malvolio, but then again it wasn't.
Ray thought that Malvolio had gone through another metamorphosis, that the form he had chosen now was one of them. The upper half of Malvolio's body was almost that of his form that Ray had seen earlier that night. But his hands and arms had changed dramatically, taking on the appearance of a praying mantis's claws. The lower half of his body reminded Ray of one of the Minotaurs that his father had once told him about. Had this been on a garish cartoon show, Ray might have laughed. Now, all he could do was watch and be frightened.
"Dude", Favish said, half in awe, half in fright. "What are you?"
"The Guardian of this house", Malvolio said triumphantly. "And you have trespassed upon my property. For that, you shall pay."
"Oh really?" Favish said, regaining his confidence back. Apparently, even he didn't believe that this was happening.
"You doubt me?"
"More than anything else. I'd put my life on the line to say that you're fake."
"Really? Very well then Alan Rutherford Favish, I will show you. Good-bye Alan Favish."
Ray heard Favish scream as Malvolio descended upon him in much the same manner that he had swooped down on Ray the day before. Then, Ray found himself again encircled in the hour between twilight and sunrise. Scratching his head, he wondered what had happened to Favish and Malvolio.
He got his answer when he heard a scream that sounded like it came from the roof. Ray ran all the way up to the stairs that led to the attic and climbed them somewhat hesitantly, not sure of what he'd find up there.
There wasn't much inside the attic to get in Ray's way as he made it towards a lone window. Peering out, he was shocked by the scene that greeted him there.
Malvolio was standing upon the ledge of the mansion. He held Favish in one of his hands upside down. Ray could see the blood rushing to his enemy's face quickly, tears streaming from his face.
"I'm sorry!" Favish pleaded. "I didn't mean to come in on your house! Please! DON'T DROP ME!!!!!!!!!!"
"We have gone beyond apologies Alan Favish", droned Malvolio. Ray noticed that his imp had suddenly become something iother/i. This was not the playful magician that Ray had met earlier, but someone else entirely. The cold, steel reserve in Malvolio's eyes showed not an ounce of humor in what he was doing.
Malvolio was going to drop Alan Favish on his head.
Ray could not hold in the horror he was feeling any longer and said:
"Mal, stop! You don't know what you're doing!"
"Yes, sahib, I do know", said Malvolio as he turned towards Ray. "I am doing as I'm commanded. I'm 'doing something bad' to Alan Favish, just as you wished."
"I didn't wish this!" shouted Ray. But Malvolio was far from listening. He turned his back on Ray and, with an invisible force that Ray didn't see coming, pushed him back into the attic and took several tiles from the roof, barricading Ray inside.
Outside, he heard Malvolio say a soft, "Good-bye Alan Favish" followed by the high-pitched screams of Favish. Ray's heart sank. Peeking through a small hole, he saw the imp looking downward, as if it were admiring its work.
Then a strange thing happened. A look of horror passed over Malvolio's face as a beam of energy seared his arm. Roaring in pain, the imp disappeared, perhaps back to Ray's house.
For a few moments, Ray sat in the attic looking outside. He didn't know what had exactly happened. Regaining his senses back, he walked out of the attic and back downstairs. Outside, he was ready to see Favish's crumpled body on the ground. But he was amazed by what he saw.
Favish was indeed on the ground, but was curled up in a fetal position mumbling incoherently. The most damage that was on him was a small scratch on his forehead.
Had this been under more pleasant circumstances, Ray would have found it funny to see his enemy like this. But this wasn't the way he wanted it to happen. In between his thoughts, Ray felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Is everything okay here?" Boo Radley asked calmly. Ray felt somewhat comforted by the face of the old man.
"Yeah", said Ray then he looked at Radley. "What are you doing here?"
"I may ask you the same thing Raymond", said Radley. "I usually take hikes around these woods. And", eyeing Ray with a bit of suspicion, "find children around the Powell mansion."
Ray looked down at the dirt. "Um, can I have a ride home?"
"Sure", Boo said as he picked up Favish. "What happened to Master Favish here anyway?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you", Ray said.
"Try me. I've seen and done a lot of unbelievable things in my lifetime and I've lived a long time."
"Alright" Ray said. As they got to Boo's car (parked somewhat near the edge of the woods) Ray told Boo the story of the pen he had given him, what was inside, what it had told him, and was happening to it. Boo listened with quiet reserve. Favish, as Ray figured, wasn't paying too much attention.
After they had dropped Favish at his house, Boo's car tumbled on towards Ray's. Ray knew his parents would still be asleep at this time, so sneaking in would be easy. Plus, it was a Saturday so Ray could sleep in if he wanted.
"I was afraid that this would happen", Boo said quietly.
"What?" Ray asked.
"The imp inside the pen. I found him many years ago, a while before you were born. I had no idea how insane he was at the time."
"You mean you knew what it was capable of?"
"Yes. Malvolio's power is only augmented by the hate that his master harbors. It feeds off of despair and sadness and anger. I felt that, when I gave the pen to you, that someday you would be able to reform the bastard. Pardon my language."
"It's okay", Ray said slightly surprised. Boo smiled.
"I never imagined that he would manipulate you the way he did me."
Ray gulped. He wasn't sure if what all Boo was telling him could be taken as fact, but then he remembered the lifeless eyes Malvolio had when he looked at Ray.
"Did you save Alan?" Ray asked out of the blue.
"Almost didn't", Boo replied. "I was walking up towards the house when I saw him.and Malvolio."
"Why didn't you kill Malvolio?"
"Here's your house Raymond", Boo said stopping his car across the street from Ray's house. As Ray got out, Boo added:
"I'm not sure what level of power Malvolio is at, but it would do you-and your family-a world of good to get rid of that pen. What I did was just neutralize him temporarily. You'll have to do the rest."
"How do I get rid of it?" Ray asked.
"It's not really anyone's place to kill things", Boo said. "That's the most I can suggest Raymond. I'll be by later to check up on you." With that, Boo went in the direction of the town, leaving Ray to walk carefully back to his house. He climbed the rosebush fence and, as carefully as possible, pulled open his window, tumbling inside his room. He woke up Theodore Roosevelt, he looked over at Ray then went back to sleep.
"Sorry Ted", Ray apologized changing out of his clothes and back into his pajamas. He looked at the clock. It was almost 5:30 in the morning, yet the sun was on the rise. Ray didn't even pull his bedcovers over himself, instead collapsing on top of the bed and falling asleep immediately.
br
It was around three in the afternoon when Ray walked silently towards overpass. There were no cars running back and forth at this time. In his hand, he held the pink pen. Malvolio's home. He didn't know if the imp was inside, and found he no longer cared. If this was the way things had to be, Ray decided, then so be it.
He looked over the edge of the overpass, which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. Looking one last time at the pen in his hand, he chucked it out towards the ocean as hard as he could. He watched it as it plopped and bobbled up before finally sinking to the ocean floor.
It reminded Ray of gigantic jaws, waiting for its prey to hop inside them.
Yep, Ray thought, I'm gonna die.
"Hey, you're here!" Favish said tapping Ray on the shoulder. He had been hiding in the bushes and had seen Ray walk up to the house.
Ray jumped almost a foot in the air, and let out a half screech. Favish focused his flashlight on Ray and grinned.
"Sorry about that", Ray said. "I was just waiting for you guys to get here."
"We were here", Favish replied. "We were just waiting for you to get here." Behind him, members of Favish's gang began to pile out of the bushes. Ray noticed this, but said nothing about it.
"Now, the rules are that you, Raymond Francis Stantz, must spend at least five hours inside the famous Morrisville haunted house, otherwise known as the Powell Mansion. If you, Raymond Francis Stantz, chicken out of it within five minutes before the allotted time, then you, Raymond Francis Stantz, will be publicly declared a chicken in a public forum of our choosing." Favish smiled, his face looking like a wolf.
"Do you understand all that, Stantz?"
"I get it. Where do I spend the night?"
"The basement. It's where everyone spends their night."
Ray gulped and looked back at the house; more and more it was beginning to take on the persona of the evil that had once inhabited it.
"Are you guys coming in with me?" Ray asked. It sounded more like a last request for someone about to face the firing squad.
Favish shook his head. "Of course not; we're going to hang out here and wait for five to hit. We'll come and get you.if you've lived long enough." Favish and his friends laughed haughtily at his joke. Ray, too, could not help but elicit a chuckle, even if it was a weak one.
Shaking Favish's hand one last time, Ray turned towards the house and began to walk towards the steps. His legs felt heavier with each step. Behind him, he swore he could hear one of Favish's friends humming "Taps".
The doorknob felt cold in Ray's hand; strangely enough, dust was not on it, but when Ray thought about it, it was not so strange. Kids in the neighborhood came up to this house all the time, always gripping the doorknob to where dust did not have the time to settle.
Ray looked behind himself one last time at Favish and his friends. Favish shot Ray a thumb up, showing that he had total confidence in the kid. His friends soon followed, chanting Ray's name is if they were leaders at a football game. Ray's heart fluttered a little bit, giving him a little bit of confidence. He turned the knob and opened the door to the Powell mansion. It was dark, too dark in fact for anybody to look inside.
"You're going to need this kid", one of Favish's friends said to Ray, tossing him a flashlight.
"Thanks", replied Ray. He looked back at the inside of the house and shined a flashlight inside. It fell on the very steps that Commissioner Loeb had found Mrs. Powell forty-seven years ago. True to the stories, the bloodstain was still there. Gulping again, and helped by the whoops of hope given by Favish and his friends, Ray entered the house and closed the door behind him.
It creaked like his room window.
. . .
This isn't so bad, Ray thought looking around the house. A lot redecorating and this place could be cool again. He knew he was only saying this because he had a flashlight; if he didn't have that, he also knew he'd be in bad shape.
Everything inside the Powell house had virtually been left the same as the police had left it since that terrible day in 1933: there were various paintings of different subjects, varying from animals to humans, to some of the house itself and portraits of the Colonel and Mrs. Powell. On this painting, Ray noticed how beautiful the Colonel's wife was, with her raven black hair falling upon her shoulders, an unusual style for that time. On the Colonel himself, Ray was kind of frightened by him. The Colonel seemed to come from a different era altogether, dressed in formal military uniform, perhaps the same one had worn at his wedding. He was also bald, most of his hair coming from the side of his head. His mustache, curled at the tips, looked very distinguished and well kept.
But it wasn't that what scared Ray; it was the Colonel's eyes really. He heard stories from the people that had known the Colonel personally (there was always twenty or thirty people in town who did) that the reason the Colonel was so successful in his battles was that he had to simply stare at his enemies. He had cold, dark eyes, black enough to be coal and mysterious enough to baffle even Holmes. And this was Ray shining a flashlight on a painting, yet it was taking a life of its own. Perhaps the Colonel was planning his wife's death in this painting? Ray wondered. He didn't want to think of the answer.
Shaking off the odd feeling he got from the painting, Ray explored more of the house. Time had not been well to the kitchen, the tile on the floor nearly unrecognizable. Looking in the sink, Ray wrinkled his nose at the stench from the five decades old dishwater with dishes in it. There wasn't any food inside, and Ray began to wonder if that was due to hikers and bums coming up here and taking all of it. There were two plates set at a small table, the silverware already laid out.
Getting out of the kitchen, Ray went upstairs. As he was crossing the bottom step, he felt a cold chill pass through him. That was the very step where Commissioner Loeb found Mrs. Powell's dead body. Going further up, the feeling left Ray, which he thought was weird. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising in fear.
The hallway seemed endless to Ray; even as he showed the light down it, he couldn't see the end. He walked down it, not knowing fully what would await him at the other side. He checked all of the other rooms along the way, nothing much out of the ordinary inside of them, but stopped when he came up the fifth room on the left. The Master Bedroom, the very room that Loeb had found the Colonel. Much like the house he built, Powell's room seemed shrouded in eternal darkness.
Ray poked his head inside, followed by the flashlight. He found it difficult to hold it steady in his shaking hand. He started at one end of the room, noticing a framed picture sitting on the bedside nightstand and the neatness of the bed itself. The other end was particularly average as well.
Sighing in relief, Ray stepped inside the room. He would spend the night here, he thought, in the room where Powell killed himself. Let the kids of Morrisville know that I did.
He didn't find any chairs about, though there was a desk facing the window. Against his better judgment, Ray sat down on the Colonel's bed, dust flying up in all directions. Ray coughed a couple of times.
Hey, this is pretty comfortable, he thought as he began feeling how soft the bed was. He laid his head down on the old pillow and immediately went to sleep, the dream of being famous dancing around his head.
. . .
It was Favish that shook Ray awake from his dream.
"Hey, Stantz! You all right?"
Ray looked at him bleary-eyed and yawning. He was surprised to see Favish in the house, less than thirty minutes after Ray had gone inside.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his mind finally focused.
"Just giving you your 3:30 checkup", replied Favish. Ray could barely see in the dark, but the light of the moon falling on Favish's face told him that the other boy had a look of concern on him.
"Wait a minute", Ray said. "It's 3:30! As in '3:30 in the morning'?"
"Yeah, it is about that time", Favish said. "Anyway, now that I know you're alright, I guess I'll be on my way."
No sooner than he had said it, a crash was heard in the opposite room. Both boys got up and looked in the hallway. To their surprise there was nothing outside except darkness. "I wonder what that was", Favish said. He went out into the other room to check out the source of the noise, leaving Ray in the doorway of the Master Bedroom.
The house was suddenly a little bit darker. Only an hour left before I can leave, Ray thought.
Behind him, Ray thought he heard what sounded like footsteps. He turned around slowly and his jumped a little bit at what he saw. There, walking closer and closer towards Ray was the Colonel. There was horror on his face, more so apparent with his whiskers standing on end. His dark, black eyes stared at Ray much the same way as his portrait had. He was dressed in a similar military style that he had worn in the painting.
Around the Colonel's neck was a rope, Ray noticed. As the dead man got closer, he realized that it was not just a rope, but a noose.
"A NOOSE!" Ray screamed in his mind.
"You have intruded upon my home," the ghost of the Colonel said slowly. "You come inside my bedroom. Where I sleep. Where my wife sleeps." Getting closer, Ray could see that the Colonel's hand was going into his jacket pocket. The same exact spot where the oldsters say that he kept his famous Webley.
"P-P-Please sir", Ray sputtered, his fear getting the best of him. "I was only kidding around." The Colonel began pulling out whatever it was in his hand. Ray saw the dull gleam of the revolver shining from the light caused by the moon outside. He began to back out of the room now as the Colonel was no more than a mere two feet from Ray's face.
"You see, and you'll probably find this funny, but I came inside here mostly on a dare." That seemed to get the Colonel's attention Ray noticed. "I-I came here just to get accepted into a friend's little group. He dared me to spend the night at your house Colonel Powell."
"So does me not being around my home give you the right---no, the distinction---to enter another man's home?"
"Actually sir, I'm just a kid." Ray realized that what he said was not the right thing, as the Colonel, despite his ghostly demeanor, seemed to grow angrier. His revolver was now out of his pocket and was now also pointed at Ray's head. Ray knew he had no place to go; his back was to the railing of the stairs.
"Give my regards to the Devil when you meet him", the Colonel said and fired two shots from his Webley.
Ray screamed and fell backwards from the top of the stairs.
He expected to fall face forward onto the hard, squeaky floor. At least, he thought, Carl wouldn't have to worry about killing him later, or Jean not getting the attention that she supposedly needs from their parents.
But he didn't fall on the floor face first; somehow, he had fallen onto a couch, though the impact at which he had hit it caused it to collapse. Ray laid there for several seconds as he regained his consciousness. He looked up at the stairs and saw the Colonel walking down towards him, stopping once to rub the portrait of his wife.
Not wasting time, Ray ran to the door and tried opening it. He fumbled a little bit, trying to find the doorknob (he'd left his flashlight back in the Master Bedroom); when he did, he found out, to his horror, that it was locked. They hardly ever locked this door, on account of the fact that tourists would pick any locks Captain Fuhrman and the Morrisville PD put on it.
Behind him, Ray noticed the Colonel was getting closer, his revolver pointed at him.
Come on, man, come on! Ray shouted in his mind fiddling with the knob. Just as the Colonel was about to place his hand on Ray's shoulder, the knob finally clicked and Ray pulled it open, running as quickly as he could outside and into the woods.
He didn't begin to slow down until he was sure the house was far behind him. The house really was haunted, he thought to himself, walking slower and slower. Taking a breather, he looked back at the Powell house. The ghostly Colonel was nowhere to be found.
He hung his head down. He knew that he had bailed before the allotted time and therefore would be called chicken by the other kids in Morrisville.
"Ah the moral trouble", said a familiar voice behind him. "I have seen that happen before sahib."
Startled, Ray looked for the source. He didn't look far, as he was now facing a bright pink face!
"Do not be upset sahib, it is only I", Malvolio said.
"What are you doing-" Ray began to ask what was Malvolio doing here, but didn't. He had read too many issues of Captain Steel to know that some things were better left unasked. The thought of how the imp had managed to get out of the pen without Ray summoning him was also puzzling.
"You.changed", Ray said panting. True, Malvolio had indeed changed his appearance from when Ray had seen him last. No longer was a small elfish looking thing, but he was now a large, pink thunderbolt of a figure.
"Ah, yes. With each wish I grant, my power is augmented. I merely revert back to my original form, before the incident of the hobgoblin." Ray nodded, though he didn't understand.
"Well, help me get home Mal", said Ray sorrowfully. "I have a story to tell but no one will believe me."
"Do not be so gloomy master", Malvolio said. "We have enough time. Please, tell your tale."
So Ray revealed everything that had happened to him in the past four hours, how he felt when he walked into the house, what he saw, and how the ghost of the Colonel nearly killed him.
"He points his revolver at me and fires three rounds into my chest!" Ray said. "I think that maybe he either missed my heart or I'm just bleeding to death."
"You're not bleeding."
"What?"
"I said you're not bleeding", Malvolio repeated and illuminated Ray's shirt, giving Ray a better look at it. Examining his shirt carefully, Ray smelled a familiar scent upon it.
"Its paint", Ray said. Malvolio only nodded.
"Climb upon my back sahib", he said. Ray looked at the imp quizzically.
"Are you kidding?"
"No, I am not. I am solid and I will not drop you."
Ray figured what else he had to lose. He walked slowly over to the imp and, with some help, was hoisted upon its back.
"Are you ready?" Malvolio asked. "Good. Now we're off!"
For the first time that night, Ray got a taste of what it felt like to fly, though he wished it was under more pleasant circumstances. Malvolio's speed was immense, as he was covering the ground faster than Ray had done running.
They did not land at the front door; rather, Malvolio and Ray landed on the second story window. Ray went in first (the window broken a long time earlier). He waited for Malvolio to enter behind him, but was surprised to learn that his friend was able to walk through solid objects!
Ray then realized that they were back in the Colonel's Master Bedroom and a chill ran down his spine. He didn't want to see the insane ghost of Colonel Powell, even if his gun wasn't made of real bullets.
Getting closer to the door, the two of them heard voices coming from downstairs. They were apparently loud enough that Malvolio and Ray did not have leave their positions. Instead, they waited at the door and heard what was being said. One of the voices Ray recognized as belonging to Favish.
"Aw man that was one hell of a trick!" he said laughing. "I'll never be able to top that one, not for a million years!"
"Yeah Al", said another voice, Ray realized belonging to the tall boy in Favish's gang. "We taught that Stantz kid something good!"
"Right, he'll never mess with Elaine again", Favish agreed. "I wish I could have broken his nose again though."
"Hey, he'll get it even worse tomorrow when we tell everyone what a great, big yellow-belly is he is!" There was more laughing.
"That's all fine and dandy", said another voice, this one older than Favish and his friend. "But I was under the impression that I was going to get paid for this job."
"Right, right Ted", Favish said. "Here's a ten, go get juiced."
"Thanks son."
By this time Ray was at the very top of the stairs, having edged closer and closer to that point. He saw Favish give the money to Old Ted, the town drunkard; he saw Favish and the boy give each other high fives. But all this seemed inconsequential when Ray saw Favish wear his smile, the very one that had made Ray trust him. So, he thought, it was all a trick to embarrass me in front of Elaine. He could feel the tears coming to his eyes, which were quickly wiped away by Malvolio.
"You are sad sahib", the imp said mournfully. "I can sense your anger towards them, these people who have made a fool of you. Who have."
"You don't have to make it any worse Malvolio!" Ray shouted, though quietly enough that Favish and the others didn't hear. "I know what they did to me. I just wish."
"I just wish."
"I just wish that something ibad/i would happen to Alan Favish."
"Hey", Favish said. "When'd it get darker?" Ray too began to scratch his head. The inside of the Powell house had suddenly become pitch black, dark enough to where even Ray could barely see the imp sitting beside him.
"Watch this", said Malvolio as he slunk downstairs to where Favish and his friend were standing.
Favish looked around him, trying to feel his way around, cursing every time he bumped into something. "Dang, Jake where are you?"
"Over here Almmmmph."
"What was that?" Favish called into the darkness. He received no answer. "Okay, if you want to play like that, I'm just going to head on home."
i"You're not going home just yet Alan Rutherford Favish"i
Had Ray been able to see, he would have laughed to have seen Favish wear the same expression of puzzlement that Ray had worn earlier that day.
"Who are you?" Favish asked loudly. "Jake, if that's you, you're asking for an ass-whipping of a lifetime for using my middle name like that."
i"I am not the one called Jake, nor any other being that you have known."/i
"Really? Then if you're not Jake or Ted or anybody else I know, then what the hell are you?"
There was a high sweet laughter in the air that creeped up and down Ray's spine. Then, a stellar light (similar to the color of Malvolio's pen) illuminated the whole room. There, Ray saw that he and Favish had the same expression of fright on their faces.
Favish was standing in the middle of the floor, his knees suddenly shaking badly. In front of him was Malvolio, but then again it wasn't.
Ray thought that Malvolio had gone through another metamorphosis, that the form he had chosen now was one of them. The upper half of Malvolio's body was almost that of his form that Ray had seen earlier that night. But his hands and arms had changed dramatically, taking on the appearance of a praying mantis's claws. The lower half of his body reminded Ray of one of the Minotaurs that his father had once told him about. Had this been on a garish cartoon show, Ray might have laughed. Now, all he could do was watch and be frightened.
"Dude", Favish said, half in awe, half in fright. "What are you?"
"The Guardian of this house", Malvolio said triumphantly. "And you have trespassed upon my property. For that, you shall pay."
"Oh really?" Favish said, regaining his confidence back. Apparently, even he didn't believe that this was happening.
"You doubt me?"
"More than anything else. I'd put my life on the line to say that you're fake."
"Really? Very well then Alan Rutherford Favish, I will show you. Good-bye Alan Favish."
Ray heard Favish scream as Malvolio descended upon him in much the same manner that he had swooped down on Ray the day before. Then, Ray found himself again encircled in the hour between twilight and sunrise. Scratching his head, he wondered what had happened to Favish and Malvolio.
He got his answer when he heard a scream that sounded like it came from the roof. Ray ran all the way up to the stairs that led to the attic and climbed them somewhat hesitantly, not sure of what he'd find up there.
There wasn't much inside the attic to get in Ray's way as he made it towards a lone window. Peering out, he was shocked by the scene that greeted him there.
Malvolio was standing upon the ledge of the mansion. He held Favish in one of his hands upside down. Ray could see the blood rushing to his enemy's face quickly, tears streaming from his face.
"I'm sorry!" Favish pleaded. "I didn't mean to come in on your house! Please! DON'T DROP ME!!!!!!!!!!"
"We have gone beyond apologies Alan Favish", droned Malvolio. Ray noticed that his imp had suddenly become something iother/i. This was not the playful magician that Ray had met earlier, but someone else entirely. The cold, steel reserve in Malvolio's eyes showed not an ounce of humor in what he was doing.
Malvolio was going to drop Alan Favish on his head.
Ray could not hold in the horror he was feeling any longer and said:
"Mal, stop! You don't know what you're doing!"
"Yes, sahib, I do know", said Malvolio as he turned towards Ray. "I am doing as I'm commanded. I'm 'doing something bad' to Alan Favish, just as you wished."
"I didn't wish this!" shouted Ray. But Malvolio was far from listening. He turned his back on Ray and, with an invisible force that Ray didn't see coming, pushed him back into the attic and took several tiles from the roof, barricading Ray inside.
Outside, he heard Malvolio say a soft, "Good-bye Alan Favish" followed by the high-pitched screams of Favish. Ray's heart sank. Peeking through a small hole, he saw the imp looking downward, as if it were admiring its work.
Then a strange thing happened. A look of horror passed over Malvolio's face as a beam of energy seared his arm. Roaring in pain, the imp disappeared, perhaps back to Ray's house.
For a few moments, Ray sat in the attic looking outside. He didn't know what had exactly happened. Regaining his senses back, he walked out of the attic and back downstairs. Outside, he was ready to see Favish's crumpled body on the ground. But he was amazed by what he saw.
Favish was indeed on the ground, but was curled up in a fetal position mumbling incoherently. The most damage that was on him was a small scratch on his forehead.
Had this been under more pleasant circumstances, Ray would have found it funny to see his enemy like this. But this wasn't the way he wanted it to happen. In between his thoughts, Ray felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Is everything okay here?" Boo Radley asked calmly. Ray felt somewhat comforted by the face of the old man.
"Yeah", said Ray then he looked at Radley. "What are you doing here?"
"I may ask you the same thing Raymond", said Radley. "I usually take hikes around these woods. And", eyeing Ray with a bit of suspicion, "find children around the Powell mansion."
Ray looked down at the dirt. "Um, can I have a ride home?"
"Sure", Boo said as he picked up Favish. "What happened to Master Favish here anyway?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you", Ray said.
"Try me. I've seen and done a lot of unbelievable things in my lifetime and I've lived a long time."
"Alright" Ray said. As they got to Boo's car (parked somewhat near the edge of the woods) Ray told Boo the story of the pen he had given him, what was inside, what it had told him, and was happening to it. Boo listened with quiet reserve. Favish, as Ray figured, wasn't paying too much attention.
After they had dropped Favish at his house, Boo's car tumbled on towards Ray's. Ray knew his parents would still be asleep at this time, so sneaking in would be easy. Plus, it was a Saturday so Ray could sleep in if he wanted.
"I was afraid that this would happen", Boo said quietly.
"What?" Ray asked.
"The imp inside the pen. I found him many years ago, a while before you were born. I had no idea how insane he was at the time."
"You mean you knew what it was capable of?"
"Yes. Malvolio's power is only augmented by the hate that his master harbors. It feeds off of despair and sadness and anger. I felt that, when I gave the pen to you, that someday you would be able to reform the bastard. Pardon my language."
"It's okay", Ray said slightly surprised. Boo smiled.
"I never imagined that he would manipulate you the way he did me."
Ray gulped. He wasn't sure if what all Boo was telling him could be taken as fact, but then he remembered the lifeless eyes Malvolio had when he looked at Ray.
"Did you save Alan?" Ray asked out of the blue.
"Almost didn't", Boo replied. "I was walking up towards the house when I saw him.and Malvolio."
"Why didn't you kill Malvolio?"
"Here's your house Raymond", Boo said stopping his car across the street from Ray's house. As Ray got out, Boo added:
"I'm not sure what level of power Malvolio is at, but it would do you-and your family-a world of good to get rid of that pen. What I did was just neutralize him temporarily. You'll have to do the rest."
"How do I get rid of it?" Ray asked.
"It's not really anyone's place to kill things", Boo said. "That's the most I can suggest Raymond. I'll be by later to check up on you." With that, Boo went in the direction of the town, leaving Ray to walk carefully back to his house. He climbed the rosebush fence and, as carefully as possible, pulled open his window, tumbling inside his room. He woke up Theodore Roosevelt, he looked over at Ray then went back to sleep.
"Sorry Ted", Ray apologized changing out of his clothes and back into his pajamas. He looked at the clock. It was almost 5:30 in the morning, yet the sun was on the rise. Ray didn't even pull his bedcovers over himself, instead collapsing on top of the bed and falling asleep immediately.
br
It was around three in the afternoon when Ray walked silently towards overpass. There were no cars running back and forth at this time. In his hand, he held the pink pen. Malvolio's home. He didn't know if the imp was inside, and found he no longer cared. If this was the way things had to be, Ray decided, then so be it.
He looked over the edge of the overpass, which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. Looking one last time at the pen in his hand, he chucked it out towards the ocean as hard as he could. He watched it as it plopped and bobbled up before finally sinking to the ocean floor.