Haunted Crypt: Supernatural Mystery, #3

Prologue

ISTILL REMEMBER THAT NIGHT.

I awoke with a start, shivering, in my bed, in the dark.  At first, I thought my silk nightgown and thin bedspread were insufficient to repel the cold.

But then I ignored the shivers, as my eyes focused on the light above me, where a rectangular shape was cast onto the ceiling by a full moon, streaming its brilliance through the window.

I gazed at the shape, and noticed how the edges feathered into gray, and then merged into shadow; finally engulfed by the darkness in the corners and crevices, where walls and ceiling joined.

Why did I awaken? I mused.  What are these feelings?  My body – shivering, and I don’t know why.

I shut my eyes, and felt tears running down my temples.  Sadness?  Grief?  The feelings washed over me.  I became limp, plunging into even deeper sadness.

But then I let go, and my eyes, my face, softened – the softening allowing my being to travel as it would.  Here, I thought I would succumb to sleep.  Yet it was not slumber that I met ...

I laid on my back, my head nestled into the pillow, my eyes closed.

My breath brushed past my nostrils, barely touching the tip of my nose as I inhaled, and then exhaled.

One breath, then two, then three . . . and I felt the tension in my body ebb from me, letting go.

My mind was a void; no thoughts, no judgment, no questions.  It was as though I were an empty book, open to whatever page the universe might choose to write.

I began to see  . . .  something.  It was blurred, and gray; wallowing in some obscure haze.  Drifting, as though a wisp of smoke seeking substance.

The blur receded as the image took form and became . . .  solid.

A building.  A monument, if you will.  Made of stone.  Blocks of stone, stacked each upon another, forming walls of impenetrable hardness.  The walls climbed upward, meeting at the junction of a roof – also made of stone.

And as I gazed toward the roof, I could see a gloomy sky with gray clouds.  There were trees.  And the branches – barren, naked – slicing across the sky in jagged lines of anguish.

But then my perspective shifted.  I was floating above the ground, drifting toward the front of the structure.  And as I approached, I could see a door – seemingly made of iron – framed by a casing made of stone.

There were pillars on each side of the door, extending from the ground up to the roof, supporting the roof and creating a covering above.  Shelter from the elements.

My view followed the stairs onto a covered veranda, now facing the door.  Then in the blink of an eye, I was inside.

There was light, subdued, from an indeterminate source.  In the shadows, I could discern the shapes and texture of some objects, yet others were obscured by the dark.

I was viewing this place from a far corner.  I gazed along a row of stone caskets, toward a door at the opposite end.  I could not really see the door, but instead, a rectangle of darkness embedded in the wall.

In front of the door, I could see the outline of a human form.  It was stretched out, prone, on the floor, unmoving, save for an almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest.

There was little surrounding him – a stone wall, an iron door, stone floor, and curiously, a hammer with a pointed tip.  I took all of this in, without thought or judgment or wonder – simply aware I was in this place.

My focus was drawn to the figure.  And it was this moment when I began to sense his energy – his sadness, pain, anger – all as one.  The connection felt weak, tentative, as though hanging by a thread.

But then I felt energy coming from his heart, and from mine, and I knew we were joined in this way.  My heart fluttered, then vibrated – and he felt this too.  For I sensed the energy from our core had merged, become one – connected, in a way that each knew the other.  I'm feeling him, I mused.  I'm feeling the very depths of his soul!

I say 'him' as though this person were a man.  But the truth is, I didn’t know his gender – I knew only the joining of our souls, and it was undeniable!

Yet what I also felt was his life energy, and it was diminishing, ebbing from him.  And with this, his heart was also slowing, perceptibly so.  Knowing this, I felt tears welling in my eyes.

Time moved, and his energy continued to flow out of him; drawing lower, as from a depleting well – until his energy was barely perceptible.

I sensed an approaching moment when his energy would fade into nothing.  As though perched on the edge of a cliff, he would plunge into unknown depths.  I knew this would be the moment of his death; I also knew that I would die, were I to keep this connection.

And so I severed our link but an instant before his energy departed.  From a distance, I could sense his plunge into the abyss.

I gasped.  Laying on the bed, I felt my body shudder; shivering, as emotions washed through me.  I was wheezing, grabbing for air to fill my lungs, and finding none.  But then I let go, and my breathing slowed; emotion flowed out of me.

I exhaled yet again, and then opened my eyes,  my vision to roam.  Still my bedroom, I thought.  And still my bed!

I remained prone on the bed, nestled under the covers, contemplating the life I just lived, for it was indeed a journey ...

... and for a long time, the significance of this encounter would remain unknown to me, until ...

October 27, 1925, 2:00pm - Maureen and Friends with the Spirit Board

IT’S A CURSE to be a woman like me.  Yet, it’s also a blessing.

You see, I feel others’ emotions.  And if I allow it – and all too often I do – I actually absorb their feelings; drawing them into me, living with them, and sometimes even immersing myself in them, as though they’re my own.

You might ask, why would I do this?  Yet the answer is simple, you see, for I do not live this way by choice.  Rather, it’s in my nature – it is who I am.

Because, I’m an empath.

I live with the curse of being an empath.  The curse is most painful when crazy is nearby – because I feel their crazy.

Yet it’s a blessing when sane people are close – those who’re honest with their feelings.  With these people, I can sense their emotions, without the turmoil of crazy.  This can be a comfortable connection.

It’s a big reason why I decided to date Blaine.

He was stable – a known quantity.  Taller than me by several inches, his skin and hair were dark, and his eyes were bright in a way that showed he had a brain.

But for all of his looks and charm, there had to be more. Much more.  And in Blaine's case, I sensed emotional stability; something I needed in any relationship I could tolerate, much less enjoy.

But there was more still.

I was tall, and attaining an over-ripe age (though I’ll never tell what it is).  I was living the flapper lifestyle, and I was happy, liberated; yet I also knew time was passing, and I could see that someday I would wind up as an old maid – this gave me pause.

I had no men in my life, although at one time I did.  There was my once-upon-a-time husband.  But he left me when I went blooey – some would call it a nervous breakdown.  Looking back, I now know it was his craziness I was feeling, and upon which I acted.

And then there was the one man I truly loved – my father.  But he disappeared years ago, never to return.  We still don’t know what became of him – Mother and I.

Since my marriage had broken up, horribly, I hid inside a protective shell, reluctant to date anyone.  Blaine was my first real excursion outside of it.

So, here I sat in Blaine's apartment, venturing out with him and two others.  And all of us sipping on some kind of hooch that Blaine handed out.

I took another sip, mentally shaking my head with the taste.  Coffin varnish, they called it.  And unless you’d hidden away a stash of real liquor, this is what you were bound to be drinking.

Prohibition had ushered in the age of bootlegged liquor, and homemade beer and wine.  We all heard tales of how hooch had made people sick, or even dead.  Yet we took a chance, because drinking was better than not – and this was all we could get.

I’d been watching the other three.  Eileen and Matthew were making small talk – already I could tell that Eileen was tipsy, her blond hair becoming disheveled.  She drew from her cigarette as she nodded to Matthew.

And Blaine – he was eying me.  I sensed he was hesitant, maybe he was trying to figure out what to say.  I smiled at him and took a sip.  I wasn’t in any hurry.

Eileen turned to face Blaine, the corner of her mouth crooked up.  Well, cousin.  I thought we were double dating?

Hey cousin, Blaine replied.  We are.

No, we're not.  We're still here in your apartment.

Just relax, Blaine replied. Hey – let me pour you another.

"No.  I want to go out.  Dinner.  Dancing.  Blotto."

Blaine frowned, then said, You’re already blotto.

I'm with you, Eileen, Matthew interjected.  But I'm also interested in this game.  Blaine and I heard about it, and I'd like to try it out.

Game? Eileen spat, the corner of her mouth turned up in a sneer.  She brandished a drink and said, What – am I dating a child?

Matthew's face turned red, but he just looked at her.

Blaine said, Eileen, I think you'd really like this one.

Eileen’s face softened.  What's the game about?

It's – it's just a game where you put your hand on a – a 'thing', and you ask it questions, and it gives you back answers.

My ears piqued at that last statement.  I said, Blaine, what's the name of this 'game'?

Name?  Well – he didn’t say.

Who’s ‘he’? I asked.

Just a friend.  I got the game from a friend.

And he didn’t tell you what it’s called?

No, not really.  He called it – ah, a Talking Board, or something like that. He paused.  Let me get it.

He disappeared into his bedroom, and soon emerged carrying a piece of flat wood.  It was inscribed with letters and a few words – 'yes', 'no', 'good bye'.  I'm – I'm sorry, Blaine said, but it doesn't seem to have a name.

Spirit board! I whispered.

The three turned and looked at me.

What did you say? Blaine asked.

It’s a spirit board.  I felt a lump stick in my throat, as though the words were stuck.

The three turned to the board and looked at it.  Eileen and Matthew both touched it – gingerly – as though fulfilling the board’s ‘need’ for acknowledgment, or respect.

For my part, I remained seated on the couch, watching Blaine, and eying the board.  I leaned back and took out a cigarette, lit it, and drew deeply.  Then I took another drag.  I looked down at the cigarette in my hand – it was shaking.

Oh damn, was all I could say.

What? Matthew replied, gazing at me.  Do you know what it is?

Yes, Matthew.  I know exactly what it is.  It's dangerous.  It's dark.  And my body’s reacting to it – it’s scaring the hell out of me.

Why?

Don't ask, I replied.  I don't want to go there.

Blaine spoke up.  Well, do you want to play it?

Eileen nodded toward me, curiously, and then said to Blaine, Yeah – let's try it.

Matthew chimed in.  Me too.  I want to see what it does.

Blaine looked at me.  "And you, Maureen?  What do you say?

Hmpf, I grunted.  No thanks.  I’ll just watch."

Blaine sighed.  Suit yourself.

He positioned the board on the table in front of the couch.  Then he placed the pointing device on its surface.  Oracle, I thought.  They probably don't know what it is.

I stood up from the couch and walked around to the other side.  I drew from my cigarette as I looked on.  The other three leaned up to the board.

What are the rules? Eileen said.

I chimed in.  Make sure you move it to goodbye when you finish.

Blaine glanced at me, then said, I think we all touch the pointer with a finger, or a hand.  Then we ask the board some questions.

Is there anything we should do first?  Matthew said, Before we ask?

Hmmm ..., Blaine replied.  Maybe we could move the pointer around – tuning it up?

You should just put it away, I said.

Eileen fastened her eyes on me.  You're scared, aren't you!

You’re damn right I am, I replied.  This is dangerous.

Why?

Because it can contact the dead.

The dead?  Eileen said, her blue eyes widening.

Spirits.  Ghosts.  Demons.  It can reach all of ‘em.

Bees knees! Matthew replied.  Let's get on with it.

Blaine eyed me and turned to the board.  He remained silent.

Still looking on, I said, You should tell the board you’re here, and that you want to make contact.

Contact with whom?

Contact only with the Light – only with good spirits.

Why only 'good' spirits?

Because you could otherwise get something dangerous – something that could kill you, or worse.

Matthew glanced down at the board and then up at me, his eyes wide.  Or worse?  He said.  What could be worse than death?

A demon.

What’s a demon? Eileen asked.

Evil, I replied.  Something that can rob you of your soul.

Eileen swallowed.  Then she said,  Okay.

I suggest you at least light a candle.  Just one.

Why? Blaine said.

Because it might help to ward off evil spirits.

Blaine retrieved a candle from the fireplace mantel.  He positioned it near the Board and lit it."

With a bright flame at the tip of the candle, the three glanced at each other then turned to the board.  Blaine took the lead, but Matthew and Eileen hesitated.  They glanced at each other, then each of them touched the Oracle.

They settled in, breathing deeply.  Waiting.

Blaine announced, We seek to talk with spirits of the Light.  Good spirits.  Benevolent spirits.  Spirits of love.  Spirits without judgment.

The Oracle shifted but did not otherwise move.

Eileen looked up at Blaine.  Try again, she whispered.

Blaine closed his eyes and said, We seek spirits of the Light.  We seek to talk with you.

The Oracle shifted, then it glided across the board, finally resting on 'yes'.

Matthew’s eyes shifted between the other two.  Did either of you move that?

Not me, Eileen said.

Nor I, Blaine announced.

Because I didn't do anything, Matthew replied.  I just touched it – someone else moved it.

That’s weird, Eileen said, her voice quivering ever so slightly.

Blaine peered at the board, his brow furrowed.  Let's ask it a question.

Each of the three placed a hand on the Oracle, then Blaine said, Eileen – go ahead and ask.

Okay, she replied.  Her face lit up in a mischievous smile.  What color underwear am I wearing?

Matthew cast a glance toward her and grinned.

Well? Eileen replied, her eyes wide and innocent.

The pointer began to move, slowly at first.  Then whisking across the board, it spelled out the letters:  B, L, A, C, K.

We all looked at Eileen.  That – that's scandalous, Blaine spat.

I burst out with a chuckle, as did Blaine and Matthew.

Well? Matthew asked, with a grin across his mouth.  Is that the answer?

Eileen's face turned red – she looked away.

We’re waiting, Blaine said.

Eileen turned and eyed the two young men, then said, I’ll never tell.

Humph, Blaine grunted.  I think you just did.

Everyone laughed, then Blaine said, I have a question.

The three placed their hands on the Oracle, then Blaine announced, Who are we talking to?

The Oracle shifted, then began to move.  It moved to the letter T, then more quickly to the letters I and M.  It stopped.

What's that mean? Eileen asked, looking at the other two.  T – I – M; TIM?

Tim, Blaine said.

Eileen looked at him with a blank expression.  Then she said, Oh no, is it? – is it my father?

Blaine eyed her and said, Ask it.

Ask what? Eileen said.

If it’s your father.

The three placed their hands on the Oracle.  Eileen closed her eyes and said, Are you my father?

The flame flickered as it leaned toward one side.  And in the same moment, the Oracle moved to ‘yes’.

Eileen gasped, as did Blaine.  But, he’s been missing – for two years he’s been missing.

Blaine met Eileen’s stare with his own.  Then Eileen whispered, He must have died.  And no one knew.

Wow! Blaine whispered.

Still watching, I snuffed out my butt.  I knew Eileen’s father had disappeared, but no one knew how or why.  But now ...

I gazed at Eileen.  Her eyes were weepy.  I said, You were close to your Father?

Yes, she whispered, tears now rolling down her cheeks.  She looked at Blaine; his eyes were also watering.  Then she broke out in sobs.

Blaine stepped over to her and lifted her out of her chair, then embraced her as she cried.  I’m so sorry, he said.

They held each other until Eileen’s tears stopped.  The two separated, now gazing into each other’s eyes.

Their sadness was palpable to me.  The two were cousins, and I knew it was their special grief.  Yet I also knew at least part of my grief was about the loss of my father so many years ago.  To this day, my mother and I still didn’t know if he were dead or alive.

I allowed the grief to wash through me.

Blaine said, I’ve got an idea.  Let’s try the board.

They sat down and the three touched the Oracle."

Blaine said, How did you die?

The Oracle didn’t move.

Tim.  How did you die? Blaine asked again.

Silence.

It looks as though he won’t answer, Blaine said, looking at me.

Wait, Matthew interjected.  I got one.

Go ahead, Blaine said.

The three placed their hands on the Oracle, then Matthew focused on the board.  Where's the treasure?

What? Eileen exclaimed.  She turned and looked at him.

I said, where's the treasure?

There's not gonna be any treasure, Blaine said.

But then the Oracle shifted, and our eyes were drawn to it – watching.

The device shifted again, and then began to move, spelling out:  W, I, N, S, L, O, E.

What? Blaine said, looking at each of us.  What's that mean?

WINSLOE, Matthew replied.  He repeated it, then eyed Eileen.  It's your last name.

And so it is, she said.  She turned to Blaine. And yours too, cousin.

Our eyes were on Eileen, yet she looked confused, perplexed.  I know nothing about it.

You haven’t heard about a treasure?  Matthew asked.

No, she spat