The Haunting of Puckleberry Mansion (Another Blog Writers original)
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Hey
there Earthlings, Alternatives and Trollers. Put down that mouse and
lend an ear. Welcome to The Bandersnatch blog where we talk weird,
wacky and wondrous. I'm Mama Ogre and I have no idea what I'm doing.
In
these trying times, I hope you are sharing the day with the people
you love no matter who you are or wherever you are and keeping in
touch with those you can't.
As
you should know Fridays is Funday blog day were we talk anything and
everything and pretty much run with it. Today's blog is on another
one of the short stories I have written; The Haunting of Puckleberry
Mansion.
The
Haunting of Puckleberry Mansion
Have
you ever seen a haunted house?, you know the kind I mean. The strange
dark house at the end of a dimly lit street. It's either in the care
of a cranky old caretaker or the owners haven't been seen for years
and no-one knows why, well if they did they would never tell you. Now
at the end of my street the house I'm talking about sat right two
doors down from the house I lived in with my mother. There was an
abandoned mansion with a set of extensive grounds though it was a
darker looking version of the other houses along the street, the
mansion itself was uninhabited but the grounds were meticulously
maintained by the impressive ion will of a creaky old caretaker known
as Mr Jonathan Williams. Mr Williams was a cantankerous, heavy set
old man in his late sixties with thinning grey hair, watery blue eyes
and walked with a cane.
Twice
a year in April and September Mr Williams brought in a much liked
gardening team to sort out the gardens to his strict and oddly
specific specifications and since I was the only teenager living
nearby I would be on occasion pulled to help and I would often watch
Mr Williams prune rose bushes and weed the driveway from outside the
old chained and padlocked gates. The gates and the fence surrounding
the property were wrought ion and covered with an untangled mass of
wild poison ivy. The gates in particular were covered by both alive
and dead ivy which were hard to get rid of. Every attempt prompted a
resurgence of the live ivy as such Mr Williams and the Gardening team
had given up on the attempts and as such often used the side gate
which Mr Williams had the only obvious key. Oner day in autumn in
between college terms my mother received a phone call from Mr
Williams asking for my help. He wanted me to take the damned keys and
do the trimonthly mansion check for him......all by my self.
When
told this I groaned, grabbed a jumper, my trusty torch Betsy and went
next door to collect the only set of keys I knew of for the entire
property. Now supposedly there was as second set cut and living with
the owner but I highly doubted it. I noted that Mr Williams did
indeed look rather pale and cold as she shuffled to the door wearing
three jumpers and holding his cane and the keys in a pained death
grip.
“I'll
keep an eye from the kitchen window” he wheezed dropping the keys
into my outstretched hand, he could see half the mansion from his
window so I wasn't really surprised.
I
pocketed the keys with a salute to Mr Williams and trotted to the
gate at the end of the footpath. Mr Williams had been and always
would be a crotchety old man with trust issues. He'd been like that
ever since I'd met him as a child being watched from the window was
to be expected to be honest. As I whistled a tune as I passed the
gate and walked towards the mansion next door despite being a chilly
day it was rather a nice clear sky day. Reaching the mansion gates I
took note of the gardeners recent work. The ivy around the gates was
notably less across the gates to the point where the pillars were
clear of the dead plant.
“The
Puckleberry mansion, cirq Nineteen-Oh-Three” I read aloud with a
slight frown. I recognised the name of Puckleberry from somewhere it
meant something important and it bugged me I didn't know where I'd
read it. I shook it off as I fought with the awkward old gate and
entered the grounds.
The
grounds were neat and tidy having been done not one month beforehand.
The driveway was boarded by the carefully pruned rose bushes and
non-recurring peony flowers. The grass was near perfect; Mr Williams
and the gardening team had done a particularly good job keeping the
grounds in sync with the manic Stepford housewife-Ness of
neighbourhood we lived in. unfortunately a few stubborn weeds were
growing were returning in the paving slabbed driveway and parts of
the grass where Mr Williams was trying to keep lush and green. Having
witnessed and assisted Mr Williams with his preferred walkabout
numerous times i headed up towards the mansion, it looked normal as
far as I could tell with everything of the front facade clearly in
order. The boarded up windows of the living room did look a little
loose from out here but an inside check would decide if they had to
be re-nailed, since it was from the inside window frame they'd been
nailed to. I glanced over the upstairs windows as I stepped back and
looked up, everything looked in order although I got the strangest
feeling staring at the bay window I knew was the playroom in the
attic space. Again I shook off the feeling and after walking up onto
the porch which was devoid of furniture double checked the front door
and trotted around the large building. Stopping briefly at the small
graveyard and crypt building to double check for damage and the three
storage buildings holding gardening tools and some of the mansions
possessions.
I
opened the impressive oak door the moment I pulled out the keys from
my pocket with some difficulty. The hinges must either need oil or be
replaced I mused beginning a list in my head as I viewed the dusty
hallway stretching out before me. I could see everything right down
to the back door in the kitchen. There was an antiquated grandfather
clock standing at the foot of the stairs, the hands stopped at twenty
past three the pendulum resting on the floor of the column all
crooked and rusty. A large and somewhat ugly looking mirror sat on
the wall opposite the stairs and the clock, the reflection an almost
ghostly echo of what came before. I ignored the strange feeling
rising in the back of my head again and walked through the hallway to
the back door to open it leaving the front door open as well. This
aired the first floor out a bit and saving me choking on some of the
old air floating around.
Entering
the living room I surveyed the large space before me, the room used
to be three and part of it was attached to the kitchen. Flicking the
light switch I noted it was as usual off grid, the room remained as
dimly lit as I had entered. Crossing to the windows I switched on my
trusty torch and double checked the boards. They were still decently
nailed despite looking loose form outside, three years ago two
homeless people had managed to break in during a class three
thunderstorm. It took seven days for the thunderstorm to pass and
when we went to check the mansion, we found them huddled under the
bandstand in the back garden half drowned and babbling insanely.
They'd gotten in through the living room window and had broken the
back door to get out, took us a week to fix everything. We had top
replace the whole backdoor; frame, bolt and all too. I shook my head
at the memory and turned back to the room at large. The light purple
paint looked fine although the room looked musty despite the dust
sheets covering anything important. A few paintings looked like they
needed re-furbishing, which I'd have to take up with Mr Williams. One
was of a Victorian man whose sharpish one dimensional face seamed to
follow me as I crossed the room.
I
reached the storage room hidden behind the wall in the corner and
shone my torch light inside, seeing it empty yet tidy I closed the
door and walked back towards the main doorway. Closing the door I
crossed the hallway to the dining room double checking light switches
as I did so. I entered the dining room without a second thought and
looked over everything. The candelabra looked like it needed a clean,
id have to to come back with Mr Williams and a ladder to clean it on
the next check-up. The large dining table looked stable underneath
its dust sheet which covered the chairs around it too. The thick
curtains partially covered the windows but let in streaks of light
illuminating the room to a degree. Storage boxes sat beside the
service door put there during the refit of a few years ago. They were
filled with old antique plates, silver candlesticks and cutlery which
were wrapped in paper and covered in a few cobwebs. I'm positive if
they were sold they would make an absolute fortune. Unconsciously I
flicked at the switches knowing full well the house was off the grid.
We often had to check due to the fact that the electric company in
charge of the mansions power lines would on occasion have the house
powered. This was because the house was on the market and the owner
would occasionally attempt to sell it himself. Id never met the
owner, but during the summer holidays the previous year I saw an
older stately looking gentlemen turn up with a couple in an attempt
to sell the house.
Sighing
and giving the room one last glance, taking note that the windows
were due an upgrade i left the room and returned to the hallway and
walked to the kitchen purposely ignoring the mirror on the wall. It
gave me the creeps and often played with my eyes. My mind drifted
back to the selling attempts, I was often included in the opening up
or closing down of the mansion and usually Mr Williams sent me off
before the owner arrived and called be back long after he left. I
stood at the back door eyeing the backyard as a whole. Even though
I'd already checked everything it was best to take note of any
damages from the mansion door. Finding everything looking perfect
from a distance I closed the back door and locked it. Taking in the
kitchen which despite void of useful kitchenware didn't need anything
except a good clean. Stealing myself to head upstairs, I again tried
to ignore the mirror on the wall as I approached the stairs. The
mirror made me uncomfortable and the strangeness ran up my back as I
made my way upstairs.
The
mansion once was twice the size it was now but half of it was damaged
and demolished during a rare class five thunderstorm as such the
remaining rooms had been remodelled into five large bedrooms two
bathrooms and a small toilet room. Three of the bedrooms, one
bathroom and the toilet room were on the second floor. The other two
bedrooms, the second bathroom and the room dubbed the playroom were
up in the third floor mainly known as the attic space. I cleared the
second floor pretty quickly, noting that a few windows needed
replacing and a few floorboards needed re-nailing or replacing
themselves. The taps ran cold as to be expected when I ran them in
the bathrooms but all three toilets flushed properly without leakage
so I wasn't too troubled. Swallowing my fear after noting the ceiling
damage in the fourth bedroom I froze at the doorway to the fifth and
final bedroom. This room was the root of all my anxiety. It was a
child's bedroom and it sent chills all over my skin. I hated it as it
would crawl up my neck, I steeled myself again and walked into the
room. As usual it was near empty apart from a box of old toys sat by
the bay window with an old school rocking horse leaning against it.
On top of the box lay a china faced doll dressed fancy looking
clothes with sandy coloured hair. Its white face with expressionless
blue eyes gave me the impression it knew and seen too much.
A sudden bang like a window closing behind me had me whirl around.
The light above me flickered despite not being on grid....it
shouldn't have worked. The air around me began to chill and I saw my
breath mist in front of me as creaking echoed around the room. I
turned back to the window for whatever reason and froze. My heart
began to pound fast with fear in the bay window floating in the air
almost like it was hanging from a rope was the lifeless body of a
little girl of about five or six with pale skin mottled with purple
and blue bruises, greasy straw-like hair and dulled green eyes under
heavy eyelids. I couldn't date the clothes despite their wear and
tear, her dirty feet miles form the floor. My heart twisted in grief
for a moment before I tried to scream, it died in my throat. A dark
mist formed out of nothing and twisted itself into the form of a
crazed looking nanny figure, as it solidified I turned on my heal and
ran for it. Time seemed to slow down as I threw myself down three
flights of stairs with the ghoulish terror barrelling down behind me.
Whatever it surely was it bounced off the walls and into the mirror
as I jumped out of the way and threw myself through the front door.
With the last strength I had I managed to shut the door and lock
it....despite great difficulty. Pulling the keys out of the lock I
ran part way down the drive before tripping over my own feet and
falling over. Taking deep breaths I tried to calm down my beating
heart, I'd never been so terrified in my whole life. It took me a
moment but once my heart stopped acting like a Japanese bullet train
I got to my feet and stumbled to the side gate, the weather had
turned whilst I was inside and it began to drizzle as fought with the
gate and locked it.
Burring
the keys in my jacket pocket alongside my bloodied hands I ignored
the throbbing from my torn up knee and stumbled down the street back
to Mr Williams house. I had to tell him what happened. Turning the
corner I noticed the ambulance and Mr Williams being loaded into the
back of it. Seeing my mother talking with another ambulance tech I
knew instantly it was serious. The mansion temporarily forgotten I
entered our house and grabbed the keys to mums car and an extra
change of jeans. Three hours later having tolerated a nurse cleaning,
stitching and binding up my wounds in bandages, I sat in delayed
shock beside my mother waiting for the news of Mr Williams. It seamed
to go on forever before they let us in, what happened in the mansion
played over and over again in my head before the doctor let us
through. The old man sat on a hospital bed in a ward room for five
people hooked up to a few machines. Seeing Mr Williams like this I
decided to wait before telling him what happened. I sat down in one
of the chairs as Mr Williams let my mother fuss around him for a few
minutes whilst she dealt with his pre-prepared emergency bag before
shuffling off to see the doctor about all of his medication he'd need
since my mother would be Mr Williams primary carer when he got out.
The
moment she left his sight Mr Williams turned to me with worry in his
eyes.
“How
did you get out?” he wheezed slightly grasping my damaged hands
“Are you alright?”
“What
do you mean?” I asked half my mind thinking of the keys in my
pocket
“How
did you get out of the mansion with few injuries?” he asked “The
girl and her nurse can be vicious”
“How
did you.......?” came out of my mouth faster than I could catch it
before becoming truthful “I ran since I didn't know what they were”
“The
girl was Alice Puckleberry and the woman was Joyce Macready” came
the voice from the door of the room as Mr Williams began having a
coughing fit.
Mr
Williams and I turned to see the older stately looking guy I assumed
was the owner approaching the bed. It took a moment to calm Mr
Williams down who promptly began apologising for causing chaos.
“John
its alright” He said raising a hand as he sat down on the opposite
chair “you've been ill which has turned worse, I'm not holding it
against you”
“Thank
you Mr Puckleberry” Mr Williams wheezed again “Although I think
its best we tell Abigail here about what exactly happened in that old
mansion of yours”
I
sat there listening as I was given a crash course through the history
of the Puckleberry mansion and the Puckleberry family as a whole. The
family could trace their history back to the first ships to land in
America and as such had a whole wealth of people in numerous
positions, jobs and faiths. It lead to the family becoming extremely
wealthy and as such one great-grandfather building the mansion back
in nineteen oh three. Tragedy seamed to follow the family however and
it struck when Alice's father began an affair with her nanny Joyce.
After the father killed Alice's mother and himself due to shame the
nanny went nuts....killing Alice and herself after the grandparents
attempted to step in and look after the traumatised girl and her
older brother. As the two men continued their tale of what
experiences they had in the mansion my mind drifted over my own
experiences. Including my first ever one which happened when I'd
first moved into the town with my mother. I remember seeing Alice in
the window whilst asking Mr Williams about the mansion. It had been
my end of year history project. I remember being lead through the
building with no-one not even my mother batting an eyelid about it or
of my feelings about the house. It was the reason Mr Williams would
trust me to stand at the gate let alone help. I'd been the only kid
around to 'see' the mansion for what it was. When their tales were
done I told them mine right down to tearing up my knee and hands. Mr
Williams looked ashamed as he grasped at my hands gently with his
own.
“I'm
sorry I asked you to go in” he finally said “I saw the wicked
woman lunge at you from my kitchen window it seamed good luck your
mother was there to help me”
“I'm
sorry I made you worry Mr Williams” I replied squeezing his hands
in return “I promise to not provoke anything....although I think
the house and everything in it needs a blessing at least.....if not a
full exorcism”
I
got strange looks off both men in front of me but it was put off as
my mother came back into the room with Mr Williams doctor. I sat
there and stewed over my train of thought until the doctors came to
scurry us out. From that moment on I was unaware that within the next
six months -that I'd spent researching the history of both town and
home- that I would get permission for my own set of keys or in a
twisted sense of luck or Irony that both Mr Puckleberry and Mr
Williams would die in a week of each other not long afterwards. That
earned me both a new job as caretaker and a new boss in Zachary
Puckleberry.....to be honest that's a whole new story for a whole
other time.
The
writing of this story had nothing spectacular behind it, I wasnt
influenced by anything I had read or seen. For some reason I couldn't
get the idea out of my head of a teenager having to complete a random
task for a elderly neighbour which was a little odd/out there and it
having a paranormal/spooky twist and what came out of it was this
story. Out of all my stories which is usually influenced by something
and has a collection of scene snippets in each, The Haunting of
Puckleberry mansion flowed from my brain onto the page from the
moment I started writing it. The story has remained somewhat
unchanged since the first draft, bar a few paragraph rewrites.
I
have spent time over the years, going through periods of writing my
own short stories and several fan fictions of my own. The writers
community of Fictionpress and Fanfiction are good places to get
feedback on such stories, but now I want to share them with you the
public. I hope you send back some form of comment on what you
liked/disliked on the story, the information would be valuable. Out of all the short stories ive written, this one is one of my absolute favorates.
A
version of this story is on my Fictionpress.com account, the links to
both story and accounts to both Fictionpress and Fanfiction is in the
bibliography below.
THE
WEBSITE BIBLIOGRAPHY:
COVID-19
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SAFE, STAY INFORMED, STAY ALIVE.
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THIS
IS THE BANDERSNATCH, I'M MAMA OGRE AND REMEMBER STAY WEIRD, STAY
WACKY, STAY WONDEROUS AND I'LL SEE YOU SOON...
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