Page 14 of The Ghost of Ellwood
“He didn’t say too much in the beginning,” Carter said, sipping the last of his cider. “When I came over to check on him, he’d bitch about noise at night. The old grump even accusedmeof sneaking onto his property and playing pranks on him. He heard thumps against the house and some of his things would go missing and turn up at random.”
“And you didn’t know what he was talking about?”
“Nope.” He sat back in the chair, resting his hands on the bottom of his stomach. His cheeks were a bit flushed, probably from the whiskey. “Then, Wayne was different one day.Freakedis the only way I can describe it. When I asked him about it, he said he’d heard someone running down the hall the night before. He went after the steps but didn’t find anyone. ‘I heard the little bastard laughing,’ was what he said. Now tell me that doesn’t give you the heebie-jeebies.”
It would’ve if I believed in such things.
“He moved out because of that?”
“Oh no.” Carter leaned across the table, his expression intense. “The straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak, was the last week he stayed here. He said pictures flew off the walls and hit him, plates crashed to the floor, his favorite coffee mug tried to kill him. The thing was chucked at his head with hot coffee inside. The dude had burns on his arms from him shielding his face.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Jesus had a part to play in this, Ben. Would’ve been different if he had.” Carter’s green eyes grew larger. “The last night Wayne was here, he was woken up from a dead sleep because the bed was shaking. He said a young man with dark hair and hate in his eyes was standing at the foot of the bed and growling at him.”
Okay, nowthatgave me the fucking heebie-jeebies.
“Wayne jumped out of bed and ran out of the room, not even stopping to put on his shoes. He said as he ran down the stairs, shit flew at his head and the house groaned and creaked, as if it was alive. He stopped to grab his truck keys from the counter, but that was it. He fled the house and never came back. The manor was listed for sale three days later.”
“I guess that explains the low asking price,” I muttered.
“He was desperate to be rid of the place. A lot of people say he went crazy in here and that none of what he said actually happened.”
“Caroline could’ve told me about the house’s morbid history before selling to me.” I rose from the table and went over to the fireplace. Ashes were still in the bottom, not having been cleaned in God only knows how long. “I thought it was the law to disclose any deaths on the property.”
“Would it have changed your decision to move here?”
“Probably not. I don’t know,” I answered. Carter had turned in his seat and kept looking behind me, to the side of me, everywhere. He was still freaked out being in here. “I don’tlikethat people died in the house, but…I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Carter was quiet a moment. “You should.”
That’s when I remembered the lost journal.
“Have you ever heard anything about a Theo who lived here?” I asked.
“Hmm.” He tapped a finger on the tabletop. “Yeah, I think therewassomething. Damn. It’s like right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember.” He paused, scrunching up his face. Then, he snapped his fingers. “Oh! I think he was the son of George Blackwell, the original owner of the manor.”
A breeze swept through the back of my hair. I jolted and clutched the back of my head.
“You okay there, Ben?”
“Y-yeah.” I lightly laughed at myself. For someone who didn’t believe in ghosts, I was sure jumpy. “I think I found Theo’s journal when I first moved in. It was hidden in a false drawer in a side table.”
“Really?” Carter perked up. “What did it say?”
“I only read a few paragraphs. Theo talked about the weather, and then he mentioned a guy named—”
The parlor felt stuffy all of a sudden, as if the air was being sucked right out of the room. I tried to suck in a breath but it was hard to do much more than gasp. My lungs screamed for oxygen. Lightheaded, I leaned against the mantel and raised a hand to my temple, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t know if I was going to puke or pass out.
What the hell’s going on?
“Ben?”
“I can’t b-breathe.”
Carter jumped up and grabbed my arm. His hand was like fire on my cold skin. He led me out of the parlor and to the front door. My feet were sluggish, and the poor kid had to hold most of my weight. Once we were outside, the dizziness lifted and I breathed a little easier. I gripped the railing on the porch and drew in breath after breath, filling my lungs.
The tree branches in front of me gently swayed as the wind blew. I focused on it as my panic began to subside.
