The Mansion Read online

  The Mansion

  By

  Peter Buckley

  Copyright

  The Mansion © 2015 Peter Buckley © 2015 P.L.J.M Smashwords Edition

  The Mansion ©2015 written by Peter Buckley and published by P.L.J.M

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission from the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Peter Buckley

  1

  They had tried for five years to get permission to do a paranormal investigation at Hallstorn Manor. The stories of its hauntings were legendary in the Cornish area of the UK. Headless maids, ghost children, and a vengeful wife had all been documented throughout its two-hundred-year-old history.

  The Southern Paranormal Investigator Society finally got the go ahead to spend the night in the old mansion. The five members of the society were excited; as soon as they received the clearance, they arranged an emergency meeting and decided to conduct their investigation on December the thirteenth, the date when the Mansion had held its last party and where, as legend had it, all the guests disappeared.

  Tony Mortan, the lead investigator and founder of the Southern Paranormal Investigator Society, had been obsessed with the mansion. He had collected every bit of information he could find about the building at its hauntings. His obsession had cost him his marriage, his long-suffering wife walking out on him and moving in with another man she had met over the internet. Tony hadn’t even noticed she had gone until he realized that there were no clean plates to eat from. He had searched his house calling out his wife’s name when he found the hand-written letter on the mantel piece. He had walked past it several times but had never taken much notice of it until then. He read it and then crumpled it up and threw it in the open fireplace. He grumbled to himself and reassured himself she had never understood him and his passion.

  He had agreed to allow only a small group of people join his society. Only those that shared his belief in the paranormal and who could bring equipment and technical knowledge to his ghost hunts were allowed.

  Michael Hall and John Peterson were the first two to join; they brought a knowledge of video cameras and computer setup. On their first ghost hunt together, they had introduced Tony to the joys of thermal cameras and computer recording camera setups so that they could capture what was happening in each of the rooms even if the three were investigating somewhere else in a house. They had captured several “orbs” as they called them. Some would argue that the small balls appearing and moving across the camera were actual dust particles, but they were convinced they had captured paranormal energy.

  Phoebe Richards was the only female in the group. Tony initially didn’t want a woman in the team. He didn’t trust them, especially after his wife had left him. Phoebe brought a knowledge of electronic voice phenomenon, EVP for short. She captured several voices and sounds that she convinced the others were responses to her questions.

  The final member of the group was a newbie; Jeremy Sanderson was a religious education teacher and brought a large knowledge of religious beliefs and theories as well as a book about exorcism.

  The group began to meet more and more as the mansion investigation date approached. Tony had purchased several pieces of equipment in preparation: new thermal cameras, static electricity monitors, and temperature gauges. Hotels were booked for a couple of days prior to and after the investigation. The team members had all booked their holiday time with their respected jobs and counted down the days until they left for the mansion.

  2

  The two minivans travelled down the long and winding road that led to the mansion. The team of paranormal investigators had spent the past two days and nights staying in a hotel in the local village, using the time to check equipment and speak with locals about what they had heard about the history of the mansion.

  Tony Mortan, the team leader, had slept very little. This was his holy grail—the one he had been dreaming of since he first started investigating paranormal activity.

  They drove down the leafless tree-lined road with no other vehicles around, and all five of the team took the opportunity to enjoy their picturesque surroundings. Statues occasionally appeared amongst the old trees; their strange disfigured faces caused the team members to look at each other with surprise.

  They pulled up outside the large wooden front door, and a man dressed in blue dirty overalls and mudded boots waited in front. Tony exited the van and approached the man. He extended his hand but was greeted with a gruff, ‘Morning’ as the other man placed his hands into the pockets of his dirty overalls. Tony lowered his hand, thinking how rude the man was not to reciprocate the handshake.

  ‘Do you want to tell the others to join us?’ the man said, nodding towards the two minivans and their occupants. ‘I don’t want to spend too much time here. I got other things to attend to.’

  Tony looked at the man with raised eyebrows and then looked back at the others and waved them to join him.

  The man waited until the whole team was gathered by the door and then unlocked it. He pushed the large door open, the hallway beyond seemed to be covered in dust. The man in overalls stepped in, his footsteps echoing around the high-ceilinged hallway. The team followed him in. Phoebe, the last person, closed the door behind her, shutting out the only light source.

  ‘Don’t move,’ the man said.

  They heard his footsteps walk away, and then the small chandeliers above them burst into life. He stood at the far end of the hallway and beckoned them towards him. As they approached him, they looked up at the strange macabre paintings that adorned the walls. Two of the larger paintings depicted hangings and sacrifices.

  ‘Come on, I don’t want to spend more time than I have to here,’ the man said, getting inpatient with the group of fascinated paranormal investigators.

  He began walking through the mansion, room by room, giving a brief history of its décor and use. Several times he paused and took a deep breath before entering. One of these pauses was before he pushed a pair of great oak doors into a large dining room. A long, dark, wood table stood in its center, and in the middle of it a strange art sculpture stood. It was made from hundreds of deer antlers, and it spiraled and twisted until it reached the ceiling. Phoebe stared at it wide eyed; there was something about it that grabbed her attention. Both Michael and John called to her as they moved to the large fireplace at the far end of the room, but she seemed to be in a trance. It was only when Jeremy tapped her on the shoulder that she snapped back into the moment.

  ‘This room has a long dark history of death,’ the man began. ‘Two children of the first owner were found poisoned sitting at this very table.’ He pointed at two chairs, one at either end of the table.

  ‘Most recently, the current owner’s grandson
was found dead lying in this fireplace.’ Again, he pointed a dirty finger at the place where the body was found.

  ‘What was the cause of death?’ Tony asked.

  The man in overalls looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. ‘No one knows. “Natural causes,” is what was entered on the death certificate.’

  As they left, Phoebe took one last look at the sculpture. They moved through to a small kitchen, and as soon as the door was opened, they could all feel the drop in temperature.

  ‘Is there a door open or a window?’ John asked.

  The man turned, looked at him, and shook his head. ‘It’s always cold in here. Some say it’s the restless spirits; others say it’s just the position of the room in relation to the building.’

  ‘Restless spirits?’ John asked.

  ‘There are stories that a large number of people were murdered in here,’ the man said before quickly moving to the next door and into the adjoining room.

  They were shown several other rooms that all had strange macabre pictures on the walls before they reached the large, marble, curved staircase.

  ‘Well, that’s all I got time to show you,’ the man said, gently tapping two fingers on the large banister.

  Tony looked up the stairs and then back at the man. He pointed up the stairs and was about to ask about being shown the next level, but the man cut him short.

  ‘I don’t go up there; no one goes up stairs,’ he said.

  ‘But we need to know what rooms are the best to set up our equipment in,’ Michael said.

  The man shook his head. ‘You can set up in any of those room, it makes no difference; something bad happened in each of them.’

  ‘What like?’ Tony asked eagerly.

  The old man looked at each of the investigators and again shook his head.

  ‘You people are crazy. If you really want to know what happened upstairs, there is a book on the small table over there,’ he said, pointing at the small round table next to a black wooden coat stand and a large door.

  A cold breeze flowed down the stairs and engulfed the group standing at its bottom. They all shivered and looked back up the stairs. The old man took a step backwards towards the large door.

  ‘Right, that’s all I have time to show you. I have a very busy day, and there is meant to be a dumping of snow later today,’ he said.

  He walked the group back to the front door and stood outside and looked up at the grey, cloudy sky. ‘There’s snow on its way, and I think it’s going to be here sooner than the bloody weather man said.’

  The others looked up at the clouds and then at each other. The temperature had dropped, yet it still felt warmer than the icy chill they got from the breeze that came down the stairs.

  ‘You better hurry up and get your stuff out of your vans; I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.’ The old man said, still looking up at the clouds.

  The team of investigators looked at each other and fell into their well-rehearsed routine of gathering equipment from the van and moving it inside. They carried the equipment into the dining room and placed it against the wall. Phoebe stayed and began setting up the laptop and arranging the cameras, placing them on the large table. Normal cameras, night-vision cameras, and thermal cameras were each labeled with the name of a member of the group. She then began unpacking the stands and the multiple lengths of cable that were going to be run around the house to connect all the fixed cameras and scientific data recorders to the laptop and recorders.

  The others returned several times with other bags and crates full of cables and equipment until she was finally joined by Michael and John, who began busily setting up screens and recorders, connecting cables, and talking in a language that even Phoebe didn’t understand: numbers and words that referred to lengths and power outputs of cables and resolutions of cameras and screens.

  Tony and Jeremy made sure that the vans were empty and locked before turning to the old man, who impatiently looked at his watch.

  ‘Ok, that looks like everything,’ Tony said.

  ‘You sure you want locking in?’ The old man asked, confusion etched on his face.

  ‘Yes please, it’s just to make sure there is no outside interference. You can return in the morning and unlock the doors,’ Tony replied.

  ‘Ok, but you are all crazy if you ask me,’ the old man said, shaking his head.

  Tony and Jeremy walked in through the front door and turned to see the old man close the door. They waited until they heard the key in the lock turn and click, signifying that it had locked before joining the others in the dining room.

  The old man walked to his old muddy Landrover, and he pulled on the door. It creaked as it opened, and the chassis also gave a groan when he got in. he sat motionless and stared at the house. He shook his head once more and started up the engine. He turned the car around in the wide gravel driveway and headed down the long, tree-lined road leading back to the main road.

  3

  Once all the monitors were up and running in the dining room, Tony, Michael, and Jeremy took a number of cameras each and headed to different rooms, setting up the cameras in positions where they could observe the largest part of the room. They each contacted Phoebe via the handheld radios they all carried, each responding to her directions by moving the cameras left or right to get the best picture. The three men all met at the bottom of the stairs. They looked at each other, Michael radioing their position and saying that they were about to head upstairs to set up the cameras. Phoebe told them to stay where they were until John had joined them. He had been working on a special electrical charge detector that sounded an alarm and flashed when a static charge passed over it.

  Once he had joined them, they all headed up the large winding staircase. As they reached the top, a strong, cold breeze crashed against them, it’s cold bite making the hairs on their necks rise; they could see their own breath as they exhaled. They all automatically slowed and looked at each other.

  They moved down the corridor, its dark wallpaper and red carpet making it feel dark and mysterious. They passed several paintings, all depicting women and men being tortured in different ways. Jeremy decided to head back to the top of the stairs and place a night vision camera pointing down the corridor. He then jogged back down to the others, who continued to inspect the paintings.

  ‘This is some sick shit!’ Michael said.

  The others looked at him and nodded.

  As they reached the other end of the corridor, Tony turned and directed the others. ‘Right, there are six rooms. We’ll set up a camera in each, and John, if you place your static charge monitor in the middle of the corridor when we head back, that should cover everything. We can look at the book of incidents when we get back to the dining room.’

  The others nodded and then they all entered the rooms.

  Tony pushed the door open and was met by a strong beam of light. A large window that stretched from floor to ceiling bathed the room in the grey light from outside. A large four-poster bed sat proud in the center of the room, dark, wooden cabinets and wardrobes stood in sharp contrast against the faded cream wallpaper. He looked closer at the wallpaper and could see a faint print on it. He found it hard to see what the pattern actually was, so he ran his hand over it and could feel the raised outlines of the lines and circles that made up the pattern. He stood back and turned on his digital camera. He had placed an infrared filter on its lens and took several pictures of the largest un-obscured wall. When he was done, he set up the night-vision camera he had on a retractable tripod and positioned it in the corner of the room, focusing on the bed and cabinets. He radioed down to Phoebe to check that she was receiving the picture but was met with static. He tried again and was met with a static-filled voice telling him all was ok with the picture. He looked down at the receiver in his hand. Maybe it’s the batteries, he thought to himself. Just as he left the room and pulled the door behind him, he heard a thump coming from the room and froze. His radio bust into life, makin
g him jump.

  ‘Tony, did you knock the camera over?’ Phoebe asked.

  He looked at the radio receiver in his hand before replying. ‘Erm no, I’m no longer in the room. I just closed the door and heard a thump.’

  He turned the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped back into the room. The camera was on its side, the tripod legs still in their fixed triangular position. He walked over to it and picked it up and inspected it carefully. He wobbled it but it didn’t fall over; it was in a secure place and position. He stood in front of it and radioed down to Phoebe.

  ‘Can you see me?’

  The radio again fed back static before clearing.

  Phoebe stared at the screen and Tony crouching, his face in frame. She was about to reply when she saw a dark shadow move across the room behind him. She gasped and shouted into the radio.

  ‘Behind you, I just saw something move behind you!’

  Tony quickly stood up and turned around. He could not see anything. He moved to the large window and peered out. All was still outside until he heard the faint call of a crow. He looked at the trees and finally found the lonesome bird that was calling. He turned again and carefully scoured the room. He raised the radio to his mouth and spoke slowly into it as he turned again and looked outside at the grey sky.

  ‘You must have seen a shadow cast by a passing bird or something because there’s nothing here.’

  ‘No it wasn’t a bird's shadow; it was behind you and then moved away out of shot,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘When I get done here we’ll check the footage,’ Tony replied.

  The others then began responding, asking if Tony was ok. He replied quickly, telling them to continue with their jobs of placing cameras in the other rooms. Tony once again left the room and moved on to another room, passing John, who was standing outside the door to another room.