Haunted Lover IV

Cissie stood frozen in shock.  Her hands covered her mouth holding back a scream of terror.  Time stood still.  The next flash released Scott from the outlet, the letter opener flying loose with his break from the wall.

Cissie leaned forward to touch him, to see if he was still alive.  A fierce wind whipped around her stopping her movement.

No.  Don’t touch him.  Not yet.

“Cal, let me help him,”  she pleaded with tears streaming down her face..

Don’t risk yourself.  Wait until the next flash passes then you may touch him.

Her mind couldn’t release the sight of him, back bowed , facial muscles rigid, arms and legs askew while he jerked like a live wire coming from the wall outlet.

Sobbing, Cissie searched her pockets for her cell phone.  She didn’t even like Scott but no one deserved this.  His body had settled, lay still on the hard wood floor.  She grabbed a pillow from the settee in the foyer to place under his head.

When Cal finally let her touch the rigid handyman on the floor in front of her, it took a few moments to realize it might be a while before help arrived. She began CPR.  He had no pulse, but she’d heard during her CPR training the most important thing was to keep the blood circulating until help could arrive.  She pushed down in the center of this chest, rapid forceful movements sending the blood from his damaged heart to the limp limbs.  She stopped every two minutes or so to provide what she hoped would be life saving air into his lungs.  Basically she was revolted by the mouth to mouth.  Even though she knew it might be the difference between life and death, she simply didn’t want to go there.  Too much like kissing.  And she would never kiss Scott.  Not in this life or the next.

She continued her lifesaving efforts until she thought her arms would fall off in exhaustion.  Her back ached, she was breathless and the tingles from shoulder to wrist made her believe she’d done the CPR all wrong.

As the flashing lights of the rescue squad barreled up the drive, she finally burst into tears of exhaustion.   Cal enveloped her in a cloud of cool calm.  Don’t cry.  You did everything you could to help him.

She turned as if she would place her head on Cal’s shoulder when she realized he was close to full materialization for the first time in their relationship.

She drew back in shock as the paramedics burst through the front door, flashlight beams dancing over the entryway.

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Haunted Lover III

Cal needed to intervene.  But the timing needed to be perfect.

***

Scott spent the afternoon working on the lighting in the grand entryway.  He knew there was a hidden panel which, once revealed, would present him the treasure he sought. He knew the gold was here, he simply needed to find it.

Before the job ended, which was way too close.

Cissie told him the job would end when the B&B opened–whether he was finished or not.

Normally he’d wouldn’t pay any attention to single women trying to get him to commit to something like that.  He just didn’t do it.  Nobody pushed Scott into commitment.  Nobody.  Except Cissie made him sign a contract.  So once the B&B opened, his was history.  She wouldn’t have any trouble getting someone else out here to work once the public started showing up.

The solitude would only last as long as they were alone.

Scott wanted the job to be done.  This old house was really getting under his skin.  He’d been creeped out several times the past week, constantly feeling as if someone was watching over his shoulder.  And the tools.  That was freaky.  He’d put down a hammer, or wire cutters and when he went to grab them again, just a second or two later, they’d be gone.  He was being toyed with or losing his mind.

Probably not.  Just the stress.

He was anxious to get back into town tonight.  He had more research to do, and he needed to go by the library before it closed.  Besides, the young librarian was fairly hot.  She’d come onto him the last time he’d stopped in there.  Maybe he’d get lucky.

Clouds drifted across the late afternoon sun, causing a shadow to creep across the stairs.  Cold chills fingered their way down his spine and he looked up to find Cissie watching him from the foot of the stairs.

“What are you doing?’ she asked.

“Um, checking out the outlet here.” He pointed to the top of the staircase.  He’d added an outlet so the maid wouldn’t have to plug-in a vacuum in a guest room.

He’d insisted on adding the outlet, easily explained and not on the original plan, so he could search for panels on the staircase.  He’d already exhausted his other options in the attic, basement, dining and kitchen areas.  The great rooms and the reception hall offered no place where hidden panels might conceal the Colonels stash.

“I want you to finish up.  It looks like it’s going to storm and I don’t want you stuck out here all night if the road turn into a mudslide.”

As she turned on her heel to return to the kitchen she dropped the letter opener.

Scott ran down the stairs and grabbing her by the waist, reached around her to retrieve it.

Cissie yelped in surprise and pulled away, knocking a vase of flowers off the entryway table.  The crystal shattered and the water ran in rivulets from the table to the hard wood floor at their feet.

Cissie pushed him away and he slipped in the water, hand clutching the letter opener.  His legs went out from under him and his arms windmilled with the letter opener connecting with the electrical outlet at the same time the storm began in earnest.

Lightning struck the rods on the roof of the old mansion and the charge traveled down from the roof through the house.

Every electrical outlet, old and new exploded in a flash.  Snap, crackle, pop. Light bulbs popped, current slid across any available surface, and appliances unfortunate enough to be plugged in, immediately blew out.

When Scott landed, with the letter opener in his grip connecting with the outlet at the foot of the stairs, he began to jerk and flop like a trout on the shoreline deprived of air.

Cissie could only watch in horror.

We have a Winner!

Thanks to all the faithful followers who’ve been not only reading but occasionally writing with us.  We appreciate you spending your time her with us at Her Story Calls.

Because she is bold,  innovative, and because I loved her twisty little story she posted for the entertainment of others, the winner of this weeks drawing is Jessica Aspen.

Thank you Jessica, for reading and writing with us at Her Story Calls.

I loved your contribution to our All Hallow’s Eve Celebration and hope you continue to share with us in the coming year.

Congratulations!

Spookiest month of the Year

It’s that time again!

Welcome to the Her Story Calls  Annual Halloween SpOOk Fest.

As independent writers we pride ourselves on bringing you the latest, the greatest, the spookiest, the scariest Halloween Tales anywhere on the internet.  Well, maybe not the most, but I bet our tales are the most fun.  Or maybe we just had the most fun writing them?

At any rate, we love Halloween so stay tuned, sit back and be prepared to be amazed by the frighteningly fabulous Her Story Calls Authors who will wow you with new and exciting original tales of Horror!

Stayed tuned for the first installment of

The Haunted Lover

“What we fear comes to pass more speedily than what we hope.”
—- Publilius Syrus – Moral Sayings (1st C B.C.)

 

                “I don’t know.  How can I ever explain it to you?  I miss him, and I don’t think I’m ever going to get over it.”   Cissie wiped the tears spilling down her cheeks.  She lost her true love not two years before, but his legacy was what allowed her to follow her lifelong dream of owning a Bed & Breakfast.

                The house was the mansion of former oil magnate Caleb D. Clemmons, who had built it  shortly after the war of northern aggression. Clemmons recovered after the Civil war and the south’s enduring occupation by carpetbaggers, when he discovered oil on his property.  Old family name, new money, a match made in the dreams of entrepreneurs everywhere. 

Caleb’s family still owned land around the county, but the mansion, although well built, had been abandoned for more than eighty years.  Oh, it was desirable enough as a property.  It’s location at the far edge of the upper echelons of the town’s prestigious historic district, but the place was, in a word, haunted.

Cecelia Lee Shelby, Cissie to her friends and family, purchased the mansion in anticipation of her marriage to Jacob Edward BrownClemmons, Jeb to his friends and family.  She knew it was reported to be haunted and claimed she didn’t care.  Jeb, ever the charming southern gentleman knew Cissie to be a psychic who frequently consulted those who had passed over, did not care.

When the funeral and the mourning period—for all intents and purposes— were at their end, Cissie began her restoration.  With advice from “Cal” her friendly ghost, she restored Magnolia House to its former glory. Of course, this was accomplished with “Cal” by her side on each buying trip.  The matriarch of the Historical society, Mrs. J.B. Stuart who was also the President of the Glorious Daughters of the Confederacy, assured Cissie her colors were spot on authentic to the houses original plans.  Cal had told her were to find most of the missing furniture.  Everything that could be restored was, and those things which could not were replaced with reproductions.

Cissie ended her call and wiping her eyes, she hurried to answer the knocking at the front door.  Scott Hancock stood with a hand shielding the glare peering into her front hall. She felt her mouth turn down at the corners but knowing he was the only general contractor in the area willing to work on the haunted house, she pretended to be happy to see him.

Turning the locks and opening the door she smiled, and waved him into the entry.  “I didn’t think I’d see you today. “ She turned back to close the door behind him and take a fortifying breath.  “The weather man says thunderstorms, and I thought you only had roof and electrical work to finish.  Do you think it‘s a good idea to try either of those things during the storm?”

Don’t let him work on the house today.  Caleb whispered in Cissie’s ear. He shouldn’t be here, alone with you.

We’re not really alone, Cissie thought.  I have Caleb with me.  She smiled and headed toward the kitchen where she’d been going over bills at the table when the phone first rang.

“You know, I could help with more than the odd jobs around the house,” Scott smiled at Cissie and put a huge hand across his crotch, adjusting himself.  “I could make you forget things.” The smile became a leer as Scott moved forward to stand next to Cissie.

She shivered in revulsion and stepped back placing her hand, palm flat on his chest, to push him away.  Panic rose in her, along with a remembered warning from Caleb. He wants to see you naked and pictures you succumbing to his vilest desires.

“I have told you time and again, Scott.  It is not mourning for Jeb that allows me to resist you.”

“You’ll come around.”  He tugged his jeans down then up and adjusted the rise once more.  “Sooner or later, they all want to see what it’s like.”  He smoothed a hand through his hair and grabbing his tool belt stepped around Cissie.  His arm brushed up against her breast and she heard him chuckle, but decided not to call him on it.

Who else would even come to the house?  And she was so close to opening the B&B.  Once the work was finished he would be gone and she get on with her life, no fears, no regrets.  Besides, this far from town she didn’t  think she needed to alienate the only contractor who could and would finish the job.

“It dangerous Scott.”  She picked up a stack of bills and the letter opener she’d been using and followed him back into the hall.  “Besides, Cal says it’s not a good idea.”

 

Hmm.  I wonder what will happen next?  We’ve got four more installments to see what happens between Cal, Scott and Cissie.

Leave me a comment along with an email, since will be drawing for prizes weekly and also at the end of the month.  Tell me what you think will happen next.