Halloween Story
The two kids straggled out to the van. They didn’t seem as excited as Elaine but it was typical indifference to what their mother wanted.
“Isn’t daddy coming?” Jason asked.
“No, he has to work, now buckle up
and let’s get going.”
The haunted walk was a new event this
year. It was the first time Elaine took her kids on anything like this thinking
that it would be interesting and even educational. She was curious and liked to
do new things with her kids.
The walk started in an older part of
town. The houses dated back nearly two hundred years and were built for the
immigrants from the old country, many of whom were gypsies. Elaine had never visited
this neighborhood even though she’d lived all her life in the same town. It was
strange to be walking along these old streets where the tall old trees reached
so high into the dark sky that their branches cast long shadows in the street
lights. The group of twenty people stayed close together near the guide who
told the history of the place and some stories of the people who lived here.
“See that house over there,” she
said pointing to a narrow, three story brick place with a wooden porch. A pale light
shone above the door but the windows were dark, “It was once owned by a woman
they said was a witch and cast spells on children. The people were angry and
one night, I think it was about this time of year, she was found dead on the
sidewalk, right where I’m standing. The police investigated but the case was
never solved. It’s said that for years after her ghost appeared every
Halloween. Children stopped coming to this street for trick or treat and in
fact it is still known around here as the haunted street.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jason said to his
mom. “There are no such things as ghosts.”
“Does anyone here believe in
ghosts?” asked the guide.
“I don’t,” said Jason but no one else
said anything.
“You’re a brave boy,” said the
guide. “Let’s see what else happened on this street.”
The group walked toward the railroad
track hidden behind a curtain of small trees still carrying some of their
summer leaves. The moon broke through the clouds and bathed the street in a
silvery glow as they rounded the corner immediately across from a large dark
house connected to the road by a tree lined driveway.
“That’s the house where the mill owner
lived. The mill mysteriously burned down years ago and all the people who lived
here lost their jobs. It was a company town in those days. We’re going to go
into the house. It’s empty now but is being turned into a museum and has been
set up as a haunted house for our walk. It will be typical of a nineteenth
century home when it is finished,” said the guide. “The last person to live
here died twenty years ago and left the place to the town.”
Elaine felt strange as she walked
along the driveway. It seemed as if she had been here before. Déjà vu she thought.
Weird! The veranda seemed just as she remembered and she was sure she’d seen
the door before. It was dark except for the pale light of the moon and she
grabbed the hands of Jason and Cara. “Hold tight kids, it’s spooky here.”
“Oh, mom,” said Jason.
“I’m scared,” Cara added.
“Careful on the steps,” she said as
the group climbed onto the veranda. The guide opened the door and turned on a
single light. A hall appeared out of the dark stretching into the gloom, a set
of stairs went to the second floor on the left side and an alcove appeared
looking into a dark room on the right.
“Welcome to the haunted house,” said
the guide. “Go straight back to the kitchen. We’ll gather around the table.”
Elaine felt funny. She knew where
everything was. The picture of an old man on the wall was familiar. Was he her
father? No, he was dressed like the Father’s of Confederation but she felt that
was who he was. She looked through the alcove and saw familiar furniture
silhouetted in the moonlight from the windows. The children pulled her to the
kitchen. There was the large cast iron stove that made the room so cozy and warm
in the winter. She remembered standing in front of it when she came in from
skating on the pond. She shook her head; she had never been here before. What’s
happening to me?
“This is the original kitchen,” said
the guide. “In the old days it was the main room in the house and probably the
only room that was warm in the winter. The house keeper would cook on that
stove and people would eat at this table. It’s likely the family had a maid to
cook and clean because they were rich compared to others.”
“Emily, her name was Emily,” Elaine
said unconsciously.
“I beg your pardon,” said the guide.
“Why did you say her name was Emily?”
“Huh, oh, I’m sorry,” Elaine said.
“Well, there is a record of a person
named Emily who served here. Have you read something about this place?”
“No, no, I don’t know why I said
that,” said Elaine just as the woman named Emily appeared bending over the
stove. Emily turned and smiled, her mouth opening as if saying “Welcome back,
dear.”
“Let’s go into the main room now,
this way,” said the guide. “It’s dark. I’ll light the coal oil lantern.”
An orange light flickered ahead of
the group. Elaine’s knees were weak but the kids pulled her along with the
others. There was the chair her grandfather sat in every afternoon. She used to
play on it with her brother. Who’s that? The figure looked like her brother.
She doesn’t have a brother. Who can that be? He beckoned her over. She could
hear him call her to jump on the old chair. She shook her head, what’s happening
to me? The kids pulled her further into the room. She looked for the mirror she
knew was on the wall to the right. There it was but she didn’t see anyone
reflected in it except a woman dressed in a long gingham skirt, a white
buttoned up blouse with a shawl over her shoulders. It looked like her mother.
The image in the mirror smiled, a sad smile, a tear appeared in one eye as she
waved with a kiss on her lips slowly fading into the gloom.
“This is the room where the
gentlemen met to talk and smoke after the days work or to read the Bible on
Sunday. They would often entertain friends or business associates in here,”
said the guide. “We are still looking for period furniture to suit this room
but it is hard to find these days. The next room is called the parlor. It is at
the front of the house and is usually accessed through the alcove from the
hall. It was used for entertaining under very special circumstance. We have set
it up to show one of its most important uses.”
Elaine felt her knees begin to buckle.
She knew what she would see in that room and she didn’t want to go there. “Jason,
Cara, we’re not going,” she said.
“Aw mom, it’s just getting
interesting,” Jason whined.
The guide gathered the group at the
entrance to the room. “Before we go inside I want to tell you some of the ways
the parlor was used. Everyone knows about Funeral Parlors, right, they are the
modern version of this room. When a person died in those days they had to make
sure they were really dead before the burial. Many times a person might just be
in a coma and not really dead. In fact they were so afraid they might still be
alive that it was not unusual to place a bell above the grave with a strong
cord attached to the hand of the body in the coffin so they could ring for help
if they regained consciousness. It was not unusual to hear bells in the
cemetery at night in those times even though most of them were being blown by
the wind. Even so there are stories of graves being opened to find the inside
of the coffin scratched and torn with pieces of cloth caught in the finger
nails of the body inside.”
“That is so weird,” said Jason.
“I’m scared,” said Cara.
The guide continued, “Most of the
time they placed the deceased in a casket in the parlor and kept it there for a
week. Family, friends and neighbours came by to look in on
the person and share food and drinks. There was often singing and partying as
the people hoped to waken the dead. In fact it was called a Wake. Eventually
the family had to accept the fact that their loved one was truly gone. This
room has been set up for a wake, please follow me.”
Jason tugged his reluctant mother
and sister into the parlor. Elaine saw the casket on the platform in the middle
of the room and people gathered around looking inside. They were not the people
on the tour but strangers dressed in old fashioned clothes. She saw her mother
crying, her brother staring curiously, her father was welcoming people coming
through the alcove. Her knees could hardly hold her but she had to look inside
the casket. The tour group formed a physical barrier, the ghost people melted
as she moved through them. Slowly she got to the side of the casket, it seemed
to take hours, what’s happening? She felt like she was dissolving and then she
saw what was in the casket.
“Oh, no, I can’t be, no, no,
please.”
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Cara tugged
her arm.
Elaine looked again. It was her, she
was in the casket. She looked up at the faces looking down at her. She couldn’t
speak, she couldn’t move, she could only look at the faces where her mother,
her brother, her friends were staring and crying. She tried to speak, I’m not
dead, please, I’m not dead. Then she saw the lid being placed over her and
heard the hammer drive the last nail into her coffin.
Lying alone in the dark the laughing
voice of the witch from the other street echoed in her head. Images of that horrible
Halloween appeared. She saw her brother and other kids tricking neighbours who didn’t treat.
They were at the house of the old witch woman. It was dark. Her brother and
another boy crept around to the back. She and her girl friend followed. The
boys found the Out House and tipped it over, laughing. A light appeared in the
back door. They jumped over the neighbour’s fence but
she couldn’t manage it and felt the witch’s bony hand grip her arm. She
struggled and slipped away running as a croaked curse echoed in the alley telling
her she would die in her own coffin in this and all her future lives. Terrified
she ran home, crying and frightened, not knowing what to do.
The curse soon worked. It was during
the winter, she was skating on the pond, the ice broke and she fell into the
water under the ice. It was so cold. She looked up at the light but she
couldn’t get out. She slowly drifted to the bottom of the pond. Next were images
of her mother cradling her, kissing her, calling her to come back but she
couldn’t move.
The sounds of a funeral service
penetrated the dark of her coffin. She heard the words and felt the coffin
being lowered into the grave. The thumps of dirt falling on it were muffled by
the laughter of the witch as a shadow of her mother appeared. The air slowly
ran out. She felt her spirit leaving to join the others. Strangely her mother transformed
into Cara and behind her was Jason and Tom standing over her.
“Mommy, come back, please, please,”
Cara called, her voice in panic.
“I think she’s gone,” a voice said
sternly.
“No, not yet,” it was Tom. “Give her
more time, please. I know she’s there.”
“I don’t think she’ll make it, look
at the trace, its flat. I’ll give you another hour.”
She heard and tried to call out. I’m
here, I’m alive, don’t turn it off. She struggled. She sensed Cara and reached
for her. The effort caused a blip on the electrocardiogram trace.
“Look, doctor, it’s there,” called
Tom.
“No, it’s not her”, said the doctor.
“One more hour, that’s all.”
She wanted to hold Cara so much. She
tried harder, a finger moved, she gasped.
The witch’s laughter faded and
Cara’s voice became stronger. Life returned to Elaine.
“Daddy, look,” said Cara, “mommy’s
finger moved. She’s breathing.”
Tom bent over and kissed her
forehead. An eyelid flickered and opened. She had escaped the curse that had doomed
her to die in her own coffin. She was free at last.
