Towering Troubles
The ghosts stepped into the foyer. Myrriah closed the front door behind her before joining them. Faintly, she heard an organ playing. She recognized it as the tune of "Grim, Grinning Ghosts", the anthem for Gracey Manor. Only the ancient, short, flickering candles of the overhead chandelier provided any kind of light in the room. There was a sort of scent in the air as well. It was a musty, dusty, earthy smell that Myrriah found oddly comforting. It reminded her of her bookshop. In the grand fireplace, the logs were smoldering. George always knew how to create the perfect atmosphere.
Dustin cleared his throat softly and tapped Myrriah on the shoulder, wanting to get her attention without disrupting the mood. "I've got, uh, some business to attend to," he whispered. "I'll speak with you later."
"See you later," she whispered back. She gave him a short wave before he disappeared. Looking around, she noticed that the hitchhikers were gone, too. Perhaps I should leave as well, she thought. George has probably got some sort of skit in mind, and I need to call a cab and Courtney anyway. She was jolted out of her thoughts by George Gracey's deep, velvety voice.
"When hinges creak in doorless chambers," something creaked, "and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls", something shrieked, "when candle lights flicker where the air is deathly still", the candle flames shuddered, "that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight…"
Myrriah grinned. He really was an old-school haunter with a lot of class.
"Hmm," muttered Gilbert critically. "Not bad…for an amateur. I say, a rather good set-up, old sport, but I hardly think it would instill terror into the souls of visitors."
George appeared before the group. "You say that as if you expect me to give them heart attacks, Mr. London. Our goal here at Gracey Manor is to entertain, sir." He smiled and held out his hand. "George Gracey, master of this possessed Manor."
Gilbert shook George's hand. "Looks about as possessed as a Hitchcock set," he sniffed, casting an appraising eye over the room.
"I always liked Alfred's style," said Carolyn. "Personally, I prefer the old techniques. Remember off camera kills and using shadows and old-fashioned jump scares? They don't do those nowadays."
"That's because it's not what people want now," Gilbert chided.
"Um, I like those old horror flicks," said Myrriah.
Gilbert ignored her. "What the audience wants is real, heart pounding thrills. A good adrenaline rush, not some namby-pamby 'boos'. They want to believe that they're in danger. Make their lives flash before their eyes sort of thing."
"I guess I have a lot to learn," said George. "Perhaps you're on to something, Mr. London. Why don't you folks follow me and I'll give you the grand tour? But first, I'll have Prudence bring your things to your rooms…PRUDENCE!"
A candelabrum, followed by a depressed sigh, floated into the foyer. "Yes, sir?"
"Why don't you take their luggage-" Before George could finish, Dewey quickly interrupted.
"No, no, no! I'll-I'll get 'em, sir!" He sounded positively panicked "It's my job, after all! And what is a man without his life's work?"
"Afterlife's work," Myrriah quietly joked.
Dewey looked at her and said sarcastically, "Oh, yes, very funny. You're a real comedian."
She scowled. "Maybe you should take a break long enough to pull that stick out of your-"
"Hey, hey," George cut in in a chipper tone. "Prudence, why don't you lead Dewey to the guest rooms while I show the others the house, eh?" He shot Myrriah a glare. Put off at first, she glared back at him.
"Oh, this will be ever so much fun!" gushed Sally Shine.
"Sorry, dear," Gilbert said in a voice dripping with false pity. "But the adults will be talking. Why don't you run along and do whatever it is little girls do, hmm?"
She perfectly stamped her perfect little pink shoe, making a perfect little thump on the carpet. "That's not fair!"
"You know," said George, "there is someone here I think you will get along splendidly with, Miss Shine." Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out, "L. L. there's someone here I want you to meet!"
Little Leota appeared. The tiny, dainty, pretty, and just plain eerie child studied the newcomers with an arched eyebrow. George nudged her as if to say, "Don't be rude." She frowned and shot him a quick look that said, "Whatever".
"Be nice," he whispered, "or you're cleaning out the mold in the mausoleums for a week."
"Hi, I'm Little Leota, but you can call me L. L."
"Why, hello!" Sally cooed. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing I've ever seen?"
L. L., who only came up to Sally's shoulder, flipped her long,black hair back and crossed her arms over her chest. She cocked an eyebrow again. The only thing that wasn't little about L. L. was her attitude.
Sally's smile seemed to wither under the stare. "I'm Sally Shine, and we're going to have so much fun together. I bet we're going to be best friends."
"That's great," said Emmaline. "Mr. Gracey, show them around and I'll keep an eye on the little ones." She sat down on a sofa as Dewey took her bag from her. He had his arms wrapped around the luggage and had Carolyn's clutch clamped in his teeth.
"This way," moaned Prudence as she led him down the hall.
"And would you two please follow me?" George asked Carolyn and Gilbert. "First is the portrait gallery…" His voice soon faded as the three spirits disappeared into the hidden gallery.
"Emmaline," began Myrriah, "what sort of place do you…" The nanny had fallen asleep on the couch, snoring loudly. "Haunt?" She sighed. She needed to find her phone so she could let Courtney know what was going on. Unfortunately, she had no clue where it was. And then there was the matter of Sally and L. L. They would be okay without adult supervision for a little while, right? After all, it's not like they could get into anything that would kill them.
"Hey, kids, would you two be all right if I slipped away for a little while? I have something I need to do. Can I trust you?"
"Oh yes, Miss Harolds," chirped Sally. "I'm sure L. L. and I can think of some wonderful games to play." She hugged L. L. tightly around the neck, making her gasp for air instinctively and claw at her captor's arms. The blonde watched as the mortal limped into the hall, her cane dully thumping on the carpet.
Once Myrriah was out of earshot, Sally shoved L. L. away from her with disgust. "One more second of that and I was about to puke."
L. L., still rubbing her throat, stared at Sally in shock.
"What are you looking at, Tiny Tim?"
"It's Little Leota, Darla Dimple," L. L. shot back. "What happened to the whole 'golly, gosh' routine?"
Sally snorted. "That's just an act. I am an actress, after all. And a great one, I might add."
L. L. rolled her eyes. Sally was more stuck up than Emily.
"Let's get a few things straight, shall we?" Sally stood over L. L. threateningly. "I don't care about your stupid haunted house, all right? I don't like you or any of your stupid friends. But I am a guest, and a respected celebrity, so you've got to do everything I say when I say it. Got it?"
L. L. stood on her tiptoes and looked Sally right in her baby blue eyes. "Or what?"
Tears formed in Sally's eyes and she snuffled. "Mr. Gracey!" she sobbed. "You'll never believe what L. L. just called me!"
Clamping a hand over the other girl's mouth, Little Leota hissed, "Okay, fine! What do you want to do?"
"Why don't we explore and see what kind of fun we can have?" She flashed perfect teeth in a perfect mean grimace.
"This is the attic," said George with a grand sweep of his arm.
"I can see that," Gilbert said with a yawn. "Don't you people ever throw anything away?"
"Ooh, I think it looks spooky, don't you, Gilbert?" asked Carolyn. She laughed as a ghoul in tattered clothes sprang up with a shriek. "How adorable!"
"Droll," he muttered in reply. His attention was caught by the sound of a heart beating. "What's that?"
"That is one of Gracey's Manor's most popular spirits," answered George. "The divine Emily. Emily, why don't you introduce yourself?" Emily drifted over to them. "Emily, this is Gilbert London, one of the ghosts from The Hollywood Tower Hotel, an actor."
"An actor?" she exclaimed. Suddenly she went into 'depressed, forlorn, jilted bride' mode. "Oh, it's been so long since I've gotten any visitors," she sniffed tearfully. "I'm just so lonely in this big, dusty attic, with no one to talk to."
"What about me?" demanded the ghoul as he sprang up behind her. She gave him a swift kick in the face with her high heel shoe, knocking him back down.
"I was murdered on my wedding night." Emily wiped away a nonexistent tear. "As a constant reminder of my torment my heart beats, aching for my lost love. But he shall never return." She put her head in her hands and pretended to cry.
"Have you ever thought of a career in theatre?" asked Gilbert.
Emily looked up. "Have I? It's been my dream!" She looked off somewhere in the distance, stars in her eyes. "I can just picture it. The crowd applauding, people cheering, everyone watching me…"
Meanwhile, Carolyn had walked over to a broken window and was looking down at the graveyard below. "Gilbert, they have a cemetery."
"How cliché," he said as Emily prattled on.
"Well, I think it's picturesque. George, dear, do you mind if I take a look?"
George, who was sitting in a nearby rocking chair and had nearly nodded off out of boredom, snapped wide-awake. "Go ahead, Miss Crossent."
"I'll see you later, Gilbert."
"Cheerio," he waved, still half listening to Emily.
Carolyn walked down the old balcony steps that lead into the cemetery. She could hear singing coming from a short distance away. She followed it. It brought her to an old hearse buggy, with a floating harness attached to it. By the floating restraints, brush in hand, was Dustin, singing "Grim, Grinning Ghosts" as he brushed an invisible horse.
Carolyn cleared her throat. "Hi… um…driver."
Dustin stopped, his eyes wide with embarrassment. "Hello, Miss Crossent."
"Call me Carolyn."
"Call me Dustin. Uh…" He stared down at the brush dumbly. Then quickly, he said, "I'm just giving Rolly a good brushing, to keep his coat nice and sleek, you know. Just in case we get any visitors. He always likes to look his best." Rolly whinnied as if to say, "I could not care less about how I look." "I really hope you and your friends can help us, Miss Cross-I mean Carolyn."
"Well, we'll do what we can."
"It's really appreciated. Uh…" He couldn't recall the last time he had felt so nervous. He tried to think of something to say, just so she wouldn't leave. Then he wondered why he cared if she left or not.
Carolyn smiled.
Right, gotta think of something to say. And not something completely stupid, either. "Have you ever ridden a horse before, Carolyn?"
She shook her head. "No, actually."
"Would you like to?"
Carolyn bit her lip fearfully. "Is he tame?"
"Of course," said Dustin as he undid the harness. "Rolly wouldn't hurt a fly."
Rolly's invisible tail swatted a flying insect, splattering it against a headstone.
Dustin hoisted himself onto Rolly's back, and then outstretched his arm to pull up Carolyn. She sat behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.
"I'm scared," she whimpered.
"What a coincidence," squeaked Dustin.
"What was that?"
He cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't crack again. "I said, 'hold on tight'. Giddy up, Rolly!"
The horse snorted angrily.
"What's gotten into you, boy? Hey!"
Rolly reared up. Carolyn screamed.
"Rolly! Stop!" Dustin pulled on the reins in vain as Rolly bucked like a bronco. "This isn't the bloody rodeo!" Carolyn screamed as she was flung off the ghost horse.
"Carolyn!" Gilbert yelled as he and George ran towards them. The actor pulled her to her feet and embraced her. "Are you all right, dear?"
"I'm fine, Gilbert. Don't fuss."
By now, Dustin had calmed Rolly down. He slid off the horse and started to approach Carolyn. "I'm so sorry, Carolyn. Are you all right?"
"Don't you come near her," Gilbert spat. He put an arm around Carolyn's shoulders. "Come on, let's leave this stupid animal."
"He's not stupid!" shouted Dustin defensively.
Gilbert turned and scoffed. "Who said I was talking about the horse?" He laughed as he walked away.
As Dustin stepped forward, George grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him back. "Forget it, Dustin. Just let it be."
"But…"
"Go lock Rolly up and relax for the rest of the day."
"But…"
"You had a long drive all last night and this morning, Mr. Dust," George said in a tone that meant 'do as I say right now or else'. "You need to take a break, right?"
"Yes, sir," Dustin answered meekly. Taking Rolly's reins in hand, he dejectedly led him away. Right now he couldn't think of anything worse than being the Gracey chauffeur. No one was treated worse than he was, he was sure of it.
"You know what I hate?" Prudence asked Dewey as they lounged in the servant's quarters.
"People?" Dewey answered, reclining on a tattered sofa.
"Yeah."
"You know what I hate?" Dewey asked.
"Cheap tips?"
"Yeah."
"You know what I love?" asked Prudence.
"Using their toothbrushes on the dog and then putting them back?"
There was a brief silence.
"Yeah."
A/N: The line, "When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls, when candle lights flicker where the air is deathly still, that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight…" is from the Haunted Mansion ride.
Darla Dimple was the name of the bratty child star in the Warner Bros. animated feature, Cats Don't Dance.
And, of course, Charles Dickens created Tiny Tim.
Thanks Melanie Gracey and alanluver for your kind reviews! I'm sorry this took so long to update!