The Moon, The Lovers & The Devil

[Mistress Jorja]

for Darren...

“You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?” Sam asked, her voice incredulous. Jackie could just picture her wide-eyed, comical expression.

“I didn’t say that I did, and I didn’t say that I didn’t. The jury is still out on all that. But I do know that I have an overactive imagination, and that if I go I’m gonna end up seeing something…” Jackie trailed off, rolling on her back with the phone.

“You’re kidding me! Miss travel journalist, Miss serious ar-teest, Miss I-wanna-show-the-world-the-world…giving in to the supernatural. I mean, I know we did the Ouija board thing as kids, but c’mon…”

“I know you guys think it was just sleepover, paint your nails – eat popcorn – talk about boys bullshit, but I don’t know. There’s some pretty unexplainable stuff out there. And if you’re so level-headed, why wouldn’t you ever let me read your cards?”

“You and your Tarot and your Ouija board and your Light-As-A-Feather, Stiff-As-A-Board...you’re creepy sometimes, Jackie,” Sam said with a nervous laugh, “I hate that about you. Never know when you’re kiddin’.”

“Anyways, I gotta get packed if I’m gonna do this. And if you’re not gonna play my mule for all my camera bags, you need to go start trying to figure out an outfit for tonight. I know that Rick likes you on time…and you’ve only got 4 and ½ hours left, after all…” Jackie laughed softly to herself, glad Sam wasn’t there to attack her with pillows.

“Jerk,” was the snappy answer. “You’re a big girl, you can take care of yourself. Just, I dunno, don’t do anything stupid. There’s stories about that place y’know…”

“And that’s exactly the reason I’m going there, dear!” Jackie cut in, exasperated, “I’m doing paranormal research…I’m not interested in the pretty 3-bedroom, 2-bath Victorian with a white picket fence.”

“I got it, I got it. Jeeze, vicious aren’t we. You’re the only girl I know who’d sacrifice her Friday night for this. Well…have fun crazy lady.”

“It’s MISS crazy lady to you. And before you ask – wear the pink with the suede. I don’t want ten billion voicemails on my cell with you sweatin’ you’re wardrobe choices.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know. Bye Sam.”

“Later Jackie.”

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Jackie hung up, and rolled off her bed, surveying the pile of equipment she had accumulated by the door. It wasn’t excessive enough that she really needed to have someone to help her carry it – truth was, she was kind of scared. Of course, she could always back out, she wouldn’t lose any respect for it. But still, the principle of it…

“Thornfield Hall, here I come,” she said with a sigh, throwing her bag over one arm, followed by camera case and purse, tucking her sleeping bag under the other, and balancing her tripod on top. Walking outside, she pushed the door shut with a swing of her hips, locked it, and trotted her way to the car with keys still between her teeth.

Dumping her stuff in the back of the El Camino, she looked towards the failing sun, a chill running down her back despite of the mild spring weather.

“What the hell,” she thought to herself, “let’s do this.” Backing out onto the quiet street, she drove the half hour in silence, usual alternative rock station off, just her and her thoughts. Upon reaching the house, she drove slowly past it, scrutinizing the a-typical haunted residence.

It was a three-story house – grand and secluded – but it hadn’t fallen into disrepair. The porch didn’t sag, there were few smashed-in windows, and a decided lack of boards and nails. The path to the front door was dismally crack-less, and more or less in one whole piece. The front lawn was unfortunately neat, or at least no worse than some of the inhabited houses she has seen while driving here.

But still, Jackie had this nagging feeling about the stories and rumors she had heard. This tidy residence showed that the neighborhood hoodlums were so wary of the place that they stuck to graffiti-ing old warehouses, and left this landmark basically unscathed. Parking a little ways down an unused dirt road, she tucked her car into a grove of overhanging trees. The cops around here weren’t too pleased with trespassers.

Gathering her stuff, Jackie trekked back up the highway, and reached the front gate. To her disappointment, she got no horrific squeal of metal-on-metal as she pushed the behemoth open. Just a sigh of old hinges, and here she was, in the middle of the scariest place in town….

 

[darrenfate]

ALAN

Alan struck the match, the distinct smell of sulphur filled the air as he lit his cigarette. It was completely dark now, the glow briefly illuminated his face. He stood on his front porch, dressed in all black as was his custom, inhaling deeply the unfiltered smoke filling his lungs. His place was small and out of the mainstream, across from the house-that-was-haunted-by-ghosts.

Haunted? Righhhht.

Still, the reputation of the place kept the riff raff to a minimum in this low life neighborhood. Staying out of the spotlight was something he wanted to do just now. He spent his days and nights watching and waiting, biding his time.

Alan didn't miss much, ande he sure saw that out of place shiny new El Camino drive slowly down the street. A lone female driver - quite a babe by her profile - attracted his attention. After several long minutes, he saw her walking quickly past then up the stairs and into the house. From her hesitation at the doorway, he knew she didn't belong there. Then she was gone.

He finished his Camel, idly twisting his ring with his lucky number "3" set in diamonds on it, thinking furiously all the while. At some point his thoughts became spoken ...

Curiousity killed the cat, my boy. Let it go. Leave her to her own fate.

Look at you, talking to yourself! Pathetic man. Fuck this. I'll do what I want!

Alan hopped off the porch, and across the street. Silently he looked in a cracked window just in time to see her move off and up a spiral staircase.

Once she was out of sight, he slipped quietly in the door - his heart pounding so loudly he feared she would hear ...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Jackie didn’t pause to take in the scenery – she didn’t think a cheery sunset was the right lighting for outside shots of the house. She’d return after dark to take a few flash shots and hope for a rainy day so she could put her black and white film to work in its element. She had cased the place before, and trotted around to the small side entrance, not wasting her time with the front.

Disappointedly she tugged off her sunglasses – she liked the artsy way they made her look. It was also a great bonus to be able to study her possible photograph victims without the necessary eye contact – and it made it much easier for her to ambush them at just the right moments.

She was not big on wasting time – Jackie liked everything punctual and orderly. Making her way down a dim back corridor, she found it opened into the main hall. The windows were of a strange, tinted red glass. Ruby light settled over everything, although there wasn’t much to see. All the furniture was draped with white sheets, and the walls were barren of all décor.

“Damn, no portraits with moving eyes,” she thought to herself, “although I really would need a video camera to capture them properly.”

Neatly arranging her baggage by the front door, she noted it had a keyed deadbolt. She grabbed her Minolta 35mm SLR – her best friend as of late – and turned to the stairs. Slipping on her regular glasses, she pushed them up her nose. The black plastic frames were just coming back in style, and the moody intellectual look was her favorite. Pulling her thick mane back in a simple ponytail – it never did to have stray blonde hairs all over ones prize photographs – she started up the dizzying spiral.

She would leave the lower levels for later – it was rumored that the uppermost berth had been occupied for some years after the rest of the house had been abandoned. Crazy, rich uncle mourning over his love and experimenting in ways to unite this world and the afterlife…or something unimaginative like that.

Still, too wild a story for her to pass up a chance...

 

[darrenfate]

ALAN

His heart was thumping madly as he slipped in the door. He was alive the familiar adrenaline rush came back with a vengence - briefly he knew that he had not felt this way since the accident. All trace of depression vanished as soon as he crossed the threshold.

The atmosphere was thick from stale air He heard sounds of her walking upstairs the creaky wooden floors protested as she moved about. Trespassing? Sure he was - but he had done far worse things than this to get a story. Strangely, he was in his element.

He felt something inside. Not the girl certainly. Something else. An indefineable presence. Something or someone unearthly was here. Watching him. Alan suppressed the instinct to flee.

Catch up to the girl. Whether it was safety in numbers or an automatic male instinct to protect kicking in - Alan didn't pause for this self analysis.

To hell with caution. To hell with silently following her. He didn't want to be accused of being a stalker anyhow.

Alan bounded up the stairs making a lot of noise as he did so.

All sounds from her ceased as he reached the top of the staircase. The corridor stretched both right and left, there was also a smal stair continuing up, ill used by the thick layer of dust that swirled over the top.

Hello ..... Alan said loudly. No response.

Hello he said again, more forcefully this time. Still no answer. He waited a full minute before he said ...

I know you are here. I live across the street and I saw you come in. Show yourself !

Alan felt this presence growing minute by minute as he waited ...