**So this is just a little story I wrote for my fiction class and thought I’d share.-Rae Marie
The House on Black Hill
“Can we go yet?” Blake complained. The whine in his voice made him sound more like a five year-old than the eighteen year-old he actually was. He tossed his baseball into the air for the millionth time and let it crash back into his hands with a solid thump.
“Let me finish this article,” Ibee returned, not moving her eyes from the yellowing newspaper in front of her. She flipped her long black hair over her shoulder, creasing it behind her ear to keep it away from the tiny gray print.
Blake stood from his spot on the scratchy red library carpet and let his knees pop as he fidgeted behind his girlfriend. “Baby, you’ve read these a hundred times.”
“Not this one.” She placed her finger under a tiny word to mark her place and stared at him over her thick, dark-framed glasses. “I’m almost done.”
“I don’t get why you like this stuff so much.”
He fingered through the pile of fading newspapers stacked next to Ibee’s elbow The bold headlines blared up at him, like the dark print could impress readers to believe the information was more important. Black Deaths Still Under Investigation. Black Case Determined Murder. Remembering Lexi Black. Five Teens Missing: Last Seen Heading Toward Black Mansion. Realtor’s Body Found at Black Home. The articles dated back from the 50’s, with the most recent bearing the declaration half of Blake’s freshman baseball team had gone missing after visiting the house. Blake shuddered as he scanned over the titles, unable to shake the sensation he was being watched.
“This is so creepy,” he whispered, more to himself, though he knew she could hear him.
She sighed and placed the newspaper she had been reading on top of the stack before lifting the pile with a grunt.
“Way to make me feel like a man,” Blake groaned as she struggled to balance the papers under her chin. He took the pile and hoisted it into his arms, leading the way out of the dim library basement.
“Thanks,” Ibee smiled weakly.
“You know you can see these online, Ibee,” the librarian asked as they returned the papers to the desk. , her tight gray bun pulling at the edges of her face.
“I know,” she smiled cheerfully, “but it’s not the same.”
The librarian nodded knowingly and placed the pile behind the desk, ready for Ibee’s return. “See you tomorrow.”
Ibee pulled her oversized black sunglasses over her eyes as she and Blake strolled hand in hand through the parking lot toward her Ford Truck. The dry October leaves scattered around the pavement crunched under their feet with each step as the crisp air filled her lungs. She searched the skyline for the decrepit building as they walked. She knew exactly where it was, but didn’t immediately focus on it.
The house on Black Hill had been empty for as long as she could remember. No one seemed to own the towering mansion, but she was sure someone had to be listed on the deed. Homes didn’t own themselves. She added a note to her mental check list to check the city home registry.
Ibee had a strange fascination with the house. Looming above the perfectly manicured lawns and brightly painted shutters of the small town, the Black Hill house was like a black sheep. Everyone complained that it cast a horrible shadow on Castle Brook, but nobody, not even the city council did anything about it.
No one was supposed to go near it, but Ibee knew better than to believe everyone listened. Chief Dead, Ibee’s father, had deemed the building unfit, claiming the wood was rotten and the attic was infested with rabies riddled bats. The house was old, built around the 1940’s, so her father’s logic worked, but Ibee couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on with the house that people weren’t supposed to know about.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about that house again,” Blake rolled his eyes, his voice breaking through Ibee’s thoughts. She glanced at him, his half smile a sign he was only partly joking.
“Why does it matter?”
“I swear, that’s all you think about,” he returned, “and to be honest, it’s a little creepy.”
“It’s a mystery,” she cooed. If there was one thing Ibee loved talking about, it was the Black house. “No one knows what happened up there.”
Blake shook his head, fully aware he had opened a can of worms. “Which is why it’s creepy.”
Ibee laughed. “You’re just a pansy.”
“Am not!”
“Ohmygosh,” Ibee gasped, her eyes alight with realization. “You’re afraid of ghosts.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are!” she grinned. “You think the place is haunted so you’re afraid of it.”
“I am not afraid of some old house, ghosts or not,” he replied defensively.
“Prove it.” She grabbed his muscled bicep and stepped directly in front of him, blocking the way to her truck. “Come up to the house with me and prove you aren’t scared.”
Blake stared at her with a furrowed brow as he thought over her words. Going to the house wasn’t something he really wanted to do. His parents would kill him if he was caught at the crumbling mansion, but his masculinity was in question. He sighed heavily. “Fine. We’ll go to the house and I’ll prove to you I’m not afraid of ghosts.”
Ibee beamed like a kid on Christmas as they continued toward her truck. “Tonight.”
“Why tonight?” he asked, uncertainty feeding his voice. “It’s a Wednesday. We should go on a weekend or something.” He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he hoped he could put off the adventure long enough that she would forget about his promise.
“No tonight’s the perfect night,” she answered. “It’s the anniversary.”
Blake’s shoulders slumped in resolve as he opened the truck door for her. “Okay, I’ll be at your house at ten.”
“Perfect!” She pecked his cheek before hoisting herself into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you then.”
“Oh,” Blake called as he walked toward his own car. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”
**********
“Knock knock,” Chief Dead said as he drummed his knuckles against his daughter’s open bedroom door. Ibee looked up from her notebook and brushed a thick chunk of black hair behind her ear. “How’s my little Ibee Dead?”
“Alive. Why?”
“You were just really quite at dinner,” Chief Dead shrugged. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice squeaked a bit, but she hoped he hadn’t noticed. Fear fluttered through her stomach with each passing second, unsure if he father had discovered her plan. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Everything okay with Blake?” His eyes bored into her and she felt like he could see straight through her.
“Yeah,” she nodded, turning back to her notebook.
“What are you working on?” the chief asked, sitting carefully on the edge of his daughter’s purple comforter. “Homework?”
“Not really,” she smiled sheepishly.
“The Black House?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“I found some new articles today,” she replied. “How come you never mentioned that people have been found dead up there?”
Chief Dead sighed and placed a heavy hand on Ibee’s knee. “You know I don’t like to bring my work home with me.”
Her father hated talking about the house, especially since it fueled her obsession, but she couldn’t fight the curiosity eating away at her stomach. “Yeah, but this is kind of big stuff. What’s going on up there?”
“One day you’re going to make a really good reporter,” he grinned, “but until then will you promise me you’ll stay away from that house? Nothing good happens up there.”
“I know,” she sighed, feeling like a little kid.
“Ibee, promise me you’ll stay away from there.” The sternness in his voice forced her to make eye contact.
She curled her fist under knee and crossed her fingers. “I promise, dad.”
He smiled and stood from the bed. “That’s my girl. Good night.”
“Good night.” She closed the door behind her father as she tried to control her pounding heart.
Ibee had never been a good liar, especially to her parents. She was the good child, the one who got straight A’s, had a decent boyfriend and didn’t do anything she wasn’t supposed to. Breaking the rules wasn’t her deal, but she couldn’t deny the excitement it carried.
Butterflies flapped around her stomach as she glanced at the clock and wished time would go faster. Trying to not seem suspicious, she went through her nightly routine like normal . She brushed her teeth, taking extra long just to waste the minutes, and said goodnight to her parents before slipping back into her room.
She lay on her bed and stared up at the punk band posters plastered on the ceiling. The white walls her parents refused to let her paint over glowed in the shadows from the street light outside her window. Her stomach churned as she waited for Blake, and the ominous taste of bile floated over her tongue. She took several slow breaths and tried to calm her nerves. Unable to relax, she grabbed her notebook with a picture of the Black house taped to the front and flipped through her notes.
Everything Ibee knew about the house tattooed the white pages. She fingered the sheets reading over the scribbles. Most people in town agreed on the basic story, but the finer details differed depending on the story teller. Sentences and clues had been scribbled out and wrote over as Ibee tried to figure out the myth.
She scanned over the pictures of the house she had photocopied from newspapers. It looked dark and creepy even in the sunlight, but Ibee knew it hadn’t always been that way. As the story went, the Black house was the most envied place in Castle Brook. It had been constructed of beautiful cream brick with large bay windows and lush sloping lawns. It was the first official home built in the small community when the town was establishing itself in the late forties. Andrew Black, the town’s founder, built his lavish home on the top of the tallest hill overlooking the growing town. People said it was so he could remind the city who was in charge, but it was all just a rumor as far as Ibee could tell.
She nearly jumped out of her skin as her phone vibrated against her leg. She pulled the chipped silver flip phone from her pocket and glanced at the message from Blake.
I’m here. Come out
She rolled off the bed and carefully opened her window with a muffled grunt, glad her parents hadn’t yet replaced the screen. Blake smiled up at her from the shadows of the large oak tree next to her window, his bright white teeth almost glowing in the darkness.
“I’ll be down in a second,” she whispered, even though she was pretty sure he hadn’t heard her.
She turned back to her room and tiptoed into the hall. The sounds of the ten o’clock news wafted up from the living room and she knew her parents weren’t likely to move anytime soon. Positive the coast was clear, she slipped back into her room and grabbed her Castle Brook pep squad hoodie.
“How am I supposed to get down?” she called from the window, a twinge of panic in her voice.
“Use the tree, silly,” Blake laughed loudly. He clamped his hand over his mouth and Ibee prayed her parents hadn’t heard him.
With a deep breath, Ibee hoisted herself out of the window and clung to the closest branch. She had never climbed a tree. Among other things, it was forbidden in her house for fear someone would fall and break something. She scooted backwards down the branch and tried to ignore Blake’s snickers. He was an avid tree climber, and she knew she probably looked like a complete idiot as she inched down the tree. When she reached the main trunk of the tree, she looked down to Blake with pleading eyes. The swaying branches made her heart race as she imagined crashing to the cold, hard grass.
“You’re going to have to switch branches until you can jump,” Blake coached as he tried not to laugh.
She gave him a terrified wide-eyed look as she contemplated his words. Leaping from branch to branch seemed impossible as the orange and yellow leaves danced around in the evening breeze. She hugged the center of the tree and slowly inched toward the ground. The rough bark scratched at her hands, making each move more painful. She felt Blake’s strong hands grip her waist and place her feet on the ground. She held onto him as she tried to steady her shaking legs.
“If that scared you, what are you going to do when we get to the house?” Blake teased as he led her to his car he had left in front of the neighbor’s house.
“I’m not scared,” Ibee scoffed.
Blake smirked as he held onto her trembling hand. “Sure. That’s why you’re shaking like a leaf.”
“It’s just a little cold,” Ibee smiled as she squeezed his hand.
He offered her a giant clown-like grin and opened her car door, helping her inside. “Whatever you say babe.”
He raced around to the driver’s side and gunned the engine as they sped out of her neighborhood. For as quiet as she had tried to be when they left, Blake’s getaway made sure everyone on the street knew someone was in a hurry to get away. She gave him a frustrated glared as the tires squealed against the pavement. He grinned mischievously and sang along with the radio as it blared out Thriller.
“So are you gonna tell me about this house?” Blake questioned as they twisted up the hill toward the mansion.
“What do you want to know?” she returned.
“What’s the story?”
Ibee grinned, feeling totally in her element. “Well, Andrew Black built the house when he first established the city. His dad left him a ton of money in his will and Andrew decided building a house was the best thing to do with it. He was supposedly a player. Every girl wanted him and he was more than happy to flit through the ladies. No one really expected him to settle down, but eventually he found Lexi Newton and married her. She came from a wealthy family so the match seemed logical. They acted like a picture perfect pair during their engagement, attending every social function in town. As soon as they were married though, people rarely saw them.
“Everyone figured they just wanted privacy as they tried to set up their new home and lives, but as the months ticked by, fewer and fewer people saw them. They didn’t go out, didn’t talk to people, didn’t really do anything. Soon Andrew stopped going to work and people got suspicious. Two days after their first wedding anniversary, which was sixty years ago today, Lexi’s parents called the police chief and asked him to go investigate. No one answered when he knocked, so the chief took a branch to one of the large bay windows and let himself in. The police report says the house smelled of death and upon searching, the chief found the couple in the attic. Lexi, dressed in a crisp white house dress, lay in a pool of her own blood while Andrew’s limp body hung from a noose tied to the exposed rafters. The story says that Andrew shot Lexi before hanging himself in a fit of grief,” Ibee grinned.
Blake shuddered as an icy chill rippled up his spine, but he tried to hide it from Ibee. “So what about the disappearances? How do people explain those?”
“Apparently the house is haunted by Lexi’s spirit since she was unable to find rest after being robbed of her life by her psycho husband,” Ibee explained with a creepy smile. “Rumor has it that Lexi’s ghost takes the souls of those who make it into the house. That’s why the house has never been sold. No one wants to live in a haunted house.”
“And you want to go there?” Blake questioned, uncertainty layering his voice.
“You’re not afraid of ghosts, remember?” she teased. Blake was a typical “tough boy” baseball player. She had never imagined he was afraid of anything.
He hesitated before answering with a scoff. “And I don’t believe in them either.”
She smiled, noting the slight tremor in his voice. He pulled the car to a stop along the curb and killed the engine, but didn’t rush to get out. She took hold of his hand and squeezed it reassuringly even though the whole situation felt weird to her. She wasn’t used to taking charge and wasn’t sure if she liked it.
“Ready to go?”
He nodded and grabbed the flashlight from his jockey box before climbing out of the car. Ibee waited for him to open her door, still expecting him to be a gentleman despite his fear. Once out of the car, they stood on the curb, taking everything in.
Looming above them in the darkness, the Black Hill house seemed different than the far off version Ibee was used to seeing from her bedroom window. From far away, the house didn’t look terrible. Everyone knew it was in bad shape, but in person the structure looked one loose nail away from a condemned sign. Most of the shutters, worn and warped from the harsh winter snow and drizzly spring rains, hung from a single corner, ready to fall off at any moment. The roof shingles were only sporadic, leaving gaping holes for any creature, human or not, to slip inside. Blake squeezed her hand and led the way through the crooked wooden gate and up the cement walk. Graffiti artists had attacked the blank walls, coating them with murals of obscenities. Among other things were a marriage proposal and the exclusive prom offer from someone named Dave. Ibee smirked at the marks, realizing her father hadn’t been as successful at keeping people away from the house as he wanted people to think.
She shuddered as they neared the front entrance. It was a chilly fall night, but the cold wasn’t the only thing giving her goose bumps. She glanced over her shoulder as they walked; unable to shake the feeling they were being watched. Her stomach twisted and she gripped Blake’s hand a bit tighter. He put an arm around her, slightly amused that she was scared.
“Blake, maybe we shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, glancing around the property for the millionth time.
“Relax babe,” he replied, trying to sound brave as his voice shook. “Like you said it’s all just a story.”
She swallowed hard and offered a slight nod. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Miraculously given the state of rest of the house, the front door was still propped up on its hinges. It sat slightly ajar and Ibee noticed the lock was broken, preventing it from properly closing. Blake nudged it open with the toe of his Nike’s and led the way into the darkened house. The smell of wet wood mixed with a hint of death overwhelmed them as they stood in the small entryway. It took everything Ibee had to keep the contents of her stomach safely inside her body. Blake flipped the flashlight around, scanning the room. Majority of the floorboards were missing, revealing a plethora of forgotten items among the dirt, mainly cigarette butts and joint stubs. He shone the bright light into the far corner of the room where a mouse nest lay tucked under the baseboards. The arrival of light sent the inhabitants into a tizzy as they scattered across the floor into new hiding places.
She took the flashlight from him and pressed farther into the room, feeling brave. “You know, they say the noose is still up in the attic.” She turned around, the flashlight under her chin, making her innocent smirk terrifying. She pointed to the ceiling, or what or at least what was left of it, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“It’s just a story,” Blake reasoned. “The cops had to take it down. It’s evidence.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged as cold shiver rattled up her spine. She felt like someone had slid past her, but looking around the room, she realized she and Blake were the only ones there.
The brave ones never leave
It was the faintest whisper, leaving Ibee unsure if she had imagined it. With each step, her fear level rose, but she refused to admit it. She didn’t want Blake to know she was scared and take her home.
“Babe, did you say something?” she asked, flipping her head to focus on her boyfriend, her long black hair moving like a solid curtain.
“No,” he shook his head, stepping to her side. “I didn’t-“
You can still go home
“Ssh!” She tossed an arm across his chest like she was stopping him from moving forward. “There it is again!”
“I didn’t hear anything,” he said after a silent minute. “Are you sure you’re not scared?”
She shook her head, trying to get the remnants of the cold woman’s voice out of her head. The words echoed in her ears, making the knot in her stomach tighten. She reached for his hand and tried to muster a bit of bravery.
“We leave if you want,” he said sweetly. He could see the fear in her eyes, and though he wanted to explore, he was happy to leave.
“No, let’s go look in the attic,” she said, sounding anything but brave.
He squeezed her trembling hand in his and led the way toward the stairs. He took the flashlight back, bouncing it around the molding staircase. Cobwebs filled the gaps in the wooden fittings where the original boards had rotted through. Ibee followed him, matching his tested steps as the wood groaned under their weight.
“Did you just touch my neck?” he asked, pausing in the middle of the steps.
She shook her head, although he couldn’t see. “It’s probably just the wind. C’mon were almost to the top.”
He swallowed hard and continued up the steps, driven by masculinity. He moved up two more steps before stopping, a horrified look on his face. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“No,” Ibee replied, a twinge of fear rattling through her voice.
Blake pulled her next to him and wrapped a protective arm around her dainty frame. With a shaking finger, he pointed toward the top stair as a blur of white disappeared from view. He stared at Ibee wide-eyed, waiting for her to explain. She rolled her eyes, unable to see what he was so worried about and took his hand before mounted the last two steps.
Like the downstairs, the attic was destroyed. Floor boards had been ripped up, exposing the living room they had just been in. A growing bat’s nest hung in the corner and tiny squeaks emitted from the darkness. Amongst the missing boards, a clean and even path reached from the stairs to the center of the room. Dangling from the tallest rafter was a frayed yellow noose. Bright moonbeams filtered in through the patchwork ceiling, illuminating the old rope like a shrine. Ibee let go of Blake’s hand and tiptoed toward the noose. The wood squeaked under her steps, but felt sturdy enough that she wasn’t afraid of falling.
“It’s really here,” Ibee whispered in awe as she fingered the soggy braid. “I can’t believe it’s still here.”
I wouldn’t touch that Ibee
“D-d-did you just refer to yourself in third person?” Blake stuttered as a chill rippled up his spine. He checked over his shoulder, sure someone was watching them. No matter how many times he looked, no one was there. Afraid to be by himself, he crept across the wood to Ibee’s side.
“No, but I heard it too,” she whispered, gripping his hand with white knuckles, her courage completely gone.
He could feel her trembling next to him and wrapped a protective arm around her while he took several deep breaths to calm his raising pulse. He flipped the flashlight beam around the room, looking for the speaker.
“Of course you heard it,” the voice said as a glistening woman emerged from thin air. Dressed in a white house dress that belonged in the 1950’s, she seemed out of place. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five with a pleasant smile dancing on her lips. A dark red circle covered her heart, as stains of something dripped down the front of the lace dress. Her hair was perfectly curled and despite the fear bubbling in Ibee’s stomach, she had to admit the woman had a pretty face. “What would your father say if he knew you were here, Ibee?”
“Y-y-you know my name?” Ibee stuttered, stepping closer to Blake. He hugged her to him with shaking arms and she knew he was just as scared as she was.
“I know everyone,” the woman responded sweetly as she took a step closer to the trembling pair. “Andrew and I built this town.”
“You, you’re…” Ibee tripped over her tongue as she tried to think straight. “Lexi?”
“Yes,” the woman nodded with a sad smile.
“Lexi Black?” Blake spat out. “The lady that was murdered here?”
“I wouldn’t say murdered,” she sighed, “but yes I’m her. You’re a smart boy, Blake. I like smart boys.”
“What do you mean not murdered?” Ibee asked, noting the legion of glowing white beings infiltrating the room from every direction. They appeared to be mostly men with the same haunting dark eyes as Lexi.
Lexi laughed and took a step closer to the couple. “Well, I don’t think you can call it murder when I did it myself.”
Blake sidestepped her, putting them closer to the stairs. The growing number of ghosts converged on the pair, with outstretched icy hands. “You know, this has been great, but we have to go.”
“But why?” Lexi cooed like a child. “We were having so much fun.”
“What happened to Andrew?” Ibee called as Blake tried to steer her toward the stairs.
Lexi flashed a manic smile, stepping closer as the army of beings followed. Looking around the faces, Ibee recognized several from the missing person ads the newspaper often ran. Her heart pounded against her chest as realization set in.
“He had to go,” she replied like it was obvious. “He didn’t let me have my boyfriends,” she motioned around the room at the love-hungry boys surrounding her. “Blake, you would make a perfect addition to the circle. You’re just my type.”
With knocking knees, Blake pulled Ibee down the stairs. His feet pounded against a soft spot in the sagging middle step, dropping him to the floor. He pushed Ibee farther down the stairs, but she reached for his hand and tried to pull him to his feet. The glistening mass closed in, blocking their exit.
“I love brave boys,” Lexi crooned, floating to the center of the circle. She ran a frigid hand over Blake’s cheek, locking her eyes on his.
“But I’m not brave,” Blake protested as the group zoned in.
“Oh, but I think you are,” Lexi responded. With a flick of her slender white hand the white cloud closed in, stifling the warm bodies. “I think you’ll love it here.”
