Cogshill Gables.. a ghost story

[ariosto]

A closed thread, the first in quite awhile for Chanaud and myself.



The girl was warm and willing. It was a sultry summer's night in July. He was fresh back from a run around the horn in search of the big sperm whales off the coast of Alaska, and hadn't had a woman in over a year. So what if she was the young wife of Doctor Graham Stone. He'd sensed her vulnerability in the cast of her azure eyes towards him, in the blush that suffused her face when she saw that he'd noticed and the hand that lingered in his as he'd bent low over it introducing himself. It hadn't taken long at all. It was simple after that. A few exchanged notes, a time set for a rendezvous at the great house he'd had built the year before, Cogshill Gables, the showpiece of the community of Cogshill Harbor on the coast of Maine.
And now he had her as well...

With a last powrful thrust Captain David Sinclair released himself into her tight young cunnie. Maggie, squirmed and moaned beneath his powerful body as she felt hot seed gushing into her for the third time that day.
With a groan he collapsed across her, spent and exhausted, his bearded face nuzzling between her ripe breasts.
It was a hot afternoon , the summer breeze barely stirring the white curtains on the open windows...they petted each other langerously and slowly drifted towards a lazy afternoon slumber, their sweating bodies intertwined in sensual embrace.

That's how Doctor Stone found them.
Hurrying up the cobblestones to the towering house on a tip from his housekeeper, the pistol cocked and ready, the drowsing lovers never heard him...
"FILTHY BASTARD....BLACKGUARD...FORNICATOR..."
He was still screaming invectives when he emptied the pistol into Sinclair's broad chest and killed him dead on the spot.

Maggie survived only grazed by one bullet. The couple reconciled, traveled on a long tour of the capitols of Europe, their first son Andrew was born in 1876 and eventually became the mayor of Cogshill Harbor. Maggie lived to be 101 and never mentioned the name of Captain David Sinclair in all the rest of her life, though she would travel far out of her way to avoid the sight of the crumbling mansion on Cogshill Lane....

************************************


She'd bought it sight unseen. The realtor had sent her a full description, pictures, even a video. It was a classic New England coastal home. three stories high and gabled. Built in 1872 by a famous Sea Captain and then passing through many hands after his untimely death. Most recenty occupied as a a bed and breakfast but that business had mysteriously failed after less than a year and the desperate owners will willing to part with it for a song!
Rose was tired of California and had always yearned for such a place on the rocky shores of Maine and here it was!
She'd just sold a screenplay to Universal and she, for the fist time in her life, had money to burn...
It was an impulse buy but one she was immensely satisfied with.
The home, called Cogshill Gables, was newly renovated and fully furnished with 4 guestrooms in addition to the Master's suite.
It was too big for her by far but she fell in love with it. A pefect place to write...perfect!




I watch the automobile coming up my hill. It's red as a cherry and one of those with no top...warm weather inspite of the spring storms so why not. I wonder what it would be to drive such a thing.
A girl in it, pretty girl...going to the light house for photos I imagine.
Turning from the window...the smell of fresh paint from the foyer making me sick...another one will be coming soon no doubt...couldnt stand the last ones, sorry about the boy though, hope he'll be allright, but the woman, that loud mouthed bitch of a woman!...but she was good looking..very very much so.
The motor grows louder...it stops!
Looking down I see the red car with no top in the driveway. A young woman in a thin yellow dress standing by it, photo's in her hands, looking from them to the house...smiling...walking to the door...
Lovely creature...absolutely lovely!
Is this the new owner I wonder, not daring to hope.....

 

[chanaud]

Rose

It was even more magnificent in person. The pictures didn’t do it justice, I decided as I stood before my new home, comparing the photos the realtor had Fed Ex’d to me and to my new home on top of the hill. Oh, I knew it would be beautiful, no technology can disguise the magnitude of the house, I just didn’t realize how larger than life it looked. It belong on a postcard. In the movies. In the books I write. As I stood gazing at the tall windows, the peaked gables, the white pillars holding the house erect and at attention, I saw my future in there. This is my retirement, where I’ll spend the rest of my days writing my future novels, and hopefully, if fate allows me, I will raise my children in that house.

I had to pinch myself several times. A warm summer breeze carried my yelp over the cliff and plunged into the crashing Atlantic ocean. Only then, I was ready to take ownership.

The bright green summer grass begged me to take my shoes off. I threw my sandals in the backseat of the car, and skipped across the long lawn, allowing the soft grass to tickle me, making me giggle like a schoolgirl. Tucking my feet under me, I sat down breathlessly on the soft grass carpet and studied my new home.

It was half painted – the original color in the photos and the antique white that I had ordered from California. My blue eyes, the color of primrose, rose up slowly and counted all the front windows. There were eight on the first floor, including one oversized bay window, four medium sized ones on the second floor, and lone tall one on the top floor. My eyes drifted up and noticed how high the peak was. It seemed to connect to the sky. I decided right then and there, that would be my office. I knew I would be able to see miles, and miles of the ocean from that window.

My eyes drifted down, and over the top floor to…

Wait! What was that? My eyes drifted back up. There was a dark shadow forming a… an…outline of some sort. I blinked to clear my focus. It was gone. I must have imagined it.

My eyes looked across and continued to drift down. Every so often, my eyes strayed towards that top lone window hoping to catch what I saw earlier.

After I had memorized the exterior, I rose slowly and to the house. The key was found where the realtor had said it would be – in the mailbox hung beside the front door.

The door opened effortlessly. I stepped in and yelled “Hellooooooooo..”

When no one greeted me, I frowned. I wasn’t expecting anyone, yet for some reason a wave of disappointment filled me as my hollow voice echoed down the hall.

I started wandering room to room…

 

[ariosto]

Noisy damned thing, I thought as I heard her crashing around downstairs.
I rarely go to the first floor now, or for that matter even the second. I've found that the tall narrow staircases of the house tend to keep people from venturing to far verticaly after the initial intrigue and novelty of the place has worn off.

But I must admit to a thrill for the new and novel myself, especially when the tenant is as pretty as this one.
The last who looked this good was a certain Abbigail Rawlins, a young bride whose husband Cuthbert had brought her to Cogshill on their wedding night back in '06. Too bad about Cuthbert but I did get to enjoy the delectable Miss Rawlins for several weeks before they took her to the State Hospital.
I sometimes feel....

CRASH!

"DAMN....DAMN...DAMNIT!"

Let's see that would be the loose bannister on the second floor landing coming loose again.
Looks like I may get a visitor up here pretty soon.
How and when should I reveal myself to her?
Usually I come at night when all defenses are down and in the morning they can write me off as a dream, or a nightmare.
But there are other ways...

I went over to my own landing and peered down. I could see her quite clearly, a marvelously put together creature.
She was trying to fit the bannister back in it's grooves, a most fetching frown on her face.

"Maybe Milton can fix this when he comes tomorrow." She said to herself.

Milton?...boyfriend, lover, husband, handyman?
Well at least I'd have her all to myself for one night.
I fairly glowed at the prospect.

 

[chanaud]

I wandered slowly up the winding staircase, marveling the intricate design on the wood grain. This house is far lovelier than the realtor described. And far more valuable. How this house can sit vacant with a low price tag is beyond me. Again, I couldn’t help wondering how could this house lay vacant for years. What is wrong with it? It looks perfect by my critical eye.

The house was in excellent shape. Minor maintenance, a few pieces of wood grain needing replacement, and cleaning, lots of cleaning was all that was needed to make it livable. Ghostlike dust mites swam above me, shrouding my vision. I sneezed. A thud was heard over my head. I stopped still and peered upwards. Silence. Nothing seemed disturbed. Yet, I knew I heard something.

I ran up the winding stairs onto the second floor. Each door creaked as I pulled it open. There was a large master suite, and an adjoining sitting room. Odd pieces of furniture lay dormant, covered with what was once, white linen sheets.. A table here, a wing chair there. Even a chaise lounge in what I assumed was once a library. A bathroom separated two small bedrooms A gold chain and ball hung over the bidet. The porcelain sink and matching bear claw tub were authentic. No replica can substitute its authenticity. I was absolutely delighted with everything I saw.

I forged up the stairs to the third floor. On top of the landing was a door. I turned the knob, it didn’t budge. My hand ran over the ledge hoping for a long, lost key. No such luck, all I found in return was nothing but a handful of dust. Again, I tried to pull the door opened. The door barely budged. I pressed my ear to the door, hoping for what I don’t know. There seemed to be an electric charge from the other side. Possibly, life? But how could it be? The realtor claimed it sat vacant for over eight years. And the mounds of dusts, and cobwebs proved her correct. Yet there was something. What, I don’t know. It was calling me, beckoning me to the other side. Only this heavy door is preventing me to what lies beyond.

Reluctantly, I turned and started down the stairs.

“AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

My body was hurled into the air and landed with a thud.

Pain. So much pain. I can’t move my body.

“Heellpppppp. Someone, please help me.”

Blackness.

 

[ariosto]

How much she looks like my dear lost Maggie I thought . The girl had fallen hard and struck her head on the wall. I hadn't meant to use such force but often I find it so difficult to judge the intensity of my actions when dealing wirth things of the old world. I'd only wanted to nudge her away from my rooms, at least until I'd had a chance to put things in order. She had arrived so unexpectedly...

I knelt close, close enough to catch the fresh sweet smell of her perfume and see the gentle rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin material of her dress...I reached out, being very careful, and placed my fingers on the tempting mound...I could feel a nub of hardness on the soft flesh and began to draw arabesques around it with my fingertips just as I'd once done with Maggie.
It excited me when I realized that she was resonding to the caress and her nipples were making little tents in the yellow material as they stiffened beneath it.

I knew I shouldn't go further but couldn't stop myself! The dress was in disarray around her and her long legs were both exposed.
Long tanned legs, well toned and wonderfully shaped. An outdoors girl I smiled, remembering Maggie running along the beach with me so long ago.

I kissed her knees gently and ran my hands...just barely grazing her fine soft skin....along her thighs, slowly lifting the dress away until I saw the pastel green of her panties, and the soft swell of her mons beneath them.

I became instantly erect, my staff filling with the surpressed vigor of 100 years of denial!
Not since Abbigail had one so aroused me!
My hands trembled, my entire being was poised on the brink of an outrageous action.
I could tear them from her, I could ravage her right here!
It would drive her mad...I'd have too...Do what I did to Abby.

No...no...hold back. Be patient.
I counted to ten very slowly.
My hand found my erection and released it. I planted a soft kiss on her lips and sitting beside her began to slowly masturbate. I imagined her eyes, like Maggie's watching the movements of my hands as I prepared myself for love...

 

[chanaud]

Slowly, very slowly consciousness seeped in, waking me from a deep sleep. Through the tiny slits of my eyes, I saw two dark blue moons, familiar eyes filled with love and wonder peering into mine.

“Barry?” I whispered, smiling. I love waking up to him watching over me. And he does often. He told me I’m beautiful when I sleep. I look so peaceful, like an angel.

He sat there smiling. I knew that smile. He was horny, he wanted me. His lips were moving. His hands gesturing something. He was trying to say something, but I couldn’t hear him. Wanting to capture his words, I willed myself to wake up.

“Umpffff..” I groaned. The pain in my head grew, forcing my eyes to snap shut.

“Barr, it hurts…”

His lips continued to move, he didn’t hear me. “Barr, it hurts. Help me up.”

Two dark brows furled into a sail knot, hooding his eyes. He lifted me, and carried me up the stairs. I felt light and weightless, as if I was floating. I wanted to wrap my arms around his thick neck, so familiar and warm, but I couldn’t move them. They continued to dangle in midair.

Sometime, somewhere along the way, I must have lost consciousness again. When I did finally wake up, I was lying on a bed of soft feathers. It was dark out. The moonlight, so carefully hidden by the elm made the room darker. My eyes flickered desperately looking for familiarity. Where am I? It was musky, full of dust. My sense of smell sharpened. Why does it smell different? I knew without seeing it, this place, wherever I am was new to me. I’ve never been here before.

Then it hit me. I was dreaming of Barry again. An overwhelming sense of sadness filled me. Something died inside. My body felt numb. My pulse deadened. I want to sleep again.

Footsteps….

“Barry, darling is that you?”

 

[ariosto]

Her eyes flutter..she dreams...such long lashes. She looks like an angel. I continue to stroke myself, always reassured that even in my present state, I remain as randy as a rutting stag as Dear Abigail used to say..

One hand free...to roam. Soft cheek, cool to the touch. Fingers caress the graceful sweep of her throat, tarry in the warm hollow at the base and slip into the neckline of her dress.
She wears no brassiere, her breasts are small but firm and round. I cup them in my palm and slowly squeeze...

My cock is thronbbing in my hand now and I contemplate taking her. Taking her as I did the last....but this one is so much prettier.
She'd be nice to keep for awhile. I lean close, touching the soft skin of her thigh, exposed by the disarray of her clothes, touching it with the wide soft head of my erection, leaving a stain of precum...my lips meet hers.

She shudders....She turns towards me!...her arms reach around...
"Barry..." she whispers.

Barry! My hands squeezes hard, the stiffening of her nipples now easily felt.

"Yessssssssss..."
I breath in her ear. I'll be your Barry...I'll be...."

SLAM!

The front door!
She stiffens, her eyes flutter open...

FUCK!
I Vanish.