The Dark Thing :A Tale Of Terror Chapter III

Skeptics are necessary when it comes to us who keep an open mind upon hearing claims of paranormal activity. Skeptics not only keep us honest they also keep us wanting to obtain better evidence that supports the theory of life after death. Every Mulder must have his Scully and every yin must have it’s yang. There must be that person who’s feet are so firmly planted on the ground that they act as an anchor for us who are threatened with the ever present prospect of drifting past the clouds and flying to close to the sun. Richard Webber, the third part of our party on our little road trip into hell, was just that my anchor and my unlikely best friend.

Ten years ago when the Parapsychology department was established at the University and I was brought in to head it up, Richard actively sought me out to debate the merits of such research. Richard, a physics professor and hardcore realist, believed that nothing happened in our world outside of the laws and rules of physics. Richard felt that those who witnessed little green men zipping around the cosmos and ghosts floating down the darkened halls of medieval castles were either hardcore drug users or unfortunate folks who suffered from some form of mental defect that caused them to witness such things. Imagine Richard’s surprise when I wholeheartedly agreed with him, he honestly felt that I was just another weirdo howling at the moon. I explained to him that upwards 80-90% could be dismissed as hallucinations either caused by misidentification or something else, however that left 10-20% of phenomena that could not be explained away so easily and it was this percentage that should be looked into and explained by competent and intelligent investigators. After many debates over many pitchers of beer an unlikely friendship was struck up between the anchor and the floater.

“Are we there yet?” Jacob whined from the backseat of my SUV like an impatient five year old. Before I could reply Richard rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh of exasperation. “Derrick, was it really necessary to bring the boy wonder?” Richard asked jerking his thumb towards the backseat, “If I would have known he was coming I would have stayed home.” That was the one thing that really annoyed me about Richard, he honestly felt that students should be seen and not heard as they sat in his class hanging on every word that proceeded from his mouth like he was some great prophet of old.
“You know Richard,” I said as I looked into the rear view mirror to see Jacob’s smiling cherubic face. “Sure Jacob follows me around like a lost little puppy dog, but he has done a lot of reading and research concerning Maysfield his knowledge is invaluable to me. Right Jacob?” Jacob stuck out his tongue and panted like a dog. “Good boy, good boy. Ah, and we are here.”

When we pulled onto the oak tree lined driveway and Maysfield House came into view I was astonished at just how unremarkable the late Victorian era house was. When most people think of a haunted house they get the image of a dilapidated rundown mansion or a mist shrouded castle on the moors of jolly old England. I know from experience that this is not the case. Brand spanking new homes in new subdivisions are just as capable of harboring some evil imperceptable supernatural force and Maysfield did not appear to be the archetypal haunted house. No creeping ivy, no black clouds emitting peals of thunder not even so much as a black cat stalked the grounds. Maysfield house sat on handsomely landscaped grounds and was well maintained basically it looked like something your grandmother might live in in anytown USA.

As we exited the car the front door opened and a pleasant looking older gentleman emerged wearing a very smart looking suit.
“Derrick Latrell?” He asked looking us over with a weary eye.
“That would be me.” I replied as I stuck out my hand and he shook it weakly.
“Nice to meet you, I am Peter Macilhenney, the future manager of the Maysfield house museum. And who are your companions?” I detected a note of fear and mistrust in the man’s voice.
“My associate, Richard Webber and my assistant Jacob Weintraub.” Peter shook their hands and turned his attention back to me.
“Well then, Welcome to Maysfield House.” As he spoke I gave the house a complete once over with my eyes and said, “Well this place does not appear to harbor an all pervasive evil out to steal men’s souls.” At my comment, the manager let out a nervous little laugh.
“Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Latrell.”
“wait just a minute.” Richard cut in before I could make another statement. “Do you mean to tell me that you believe there is something unseen and dangerous in this house.” Richard’s attack seemed to unnerve the man further and I could tell Peter was about to throwup his defenses.
“All I am saying gentlemen” Peter said and then paused to look over his shoulder at the house. “Over the years there have been numerous reports of some pretty strange and frightening events that have transpired behind these walls. And I believe that you will be needing these.” The manager dug in his pocket and pulled out a key ring with two keys on them. “Those two keys will open any and every door in the house and on the grounds I’m sure you will be needing them for your investigation.” Still stunned by Richard’s lack of manners I gave a weak smile and grabbed the keys. “Good day, gentlemen and I wish you the best of luck.” Macilhenny said as he quickly walked around the house and a few moments later disappeared down the driveway in a BMW. The three of us watched until the man was out of view and I turned to my friend and said, “Jeez, Richard what the hell was all that about? That was incredibly rude.” Richard was stunned by my rebuke and looked down at the ground for a moment before saying a word. “Derrick, I’m really sorry I truly do not know what came over me.” I stood for a few moments looking at my friend trying to understand his actions and just sighed and said, “Well, whatever lets just get the gear inside and set up we have a lot of work ahead of us.” As I reached for a bag in the rear I noticed something odd. One of the windows on the second floor that was closed when we arrived was now open almost as if someone was listening to our conversation. Perhaps Maysfield House will not disappoint afterall.

More to come.

Rick E. Hale

t_seeker@hotmail.com