"Dear, I think I'm going to sit in the car with my mom," I yell up the staircase, hoping my husband can hear me. "My feet ache and I think the baby showed his disapproval of me trying to run up the stairs by kicking extra hard just now."
Not hearing a word from him, I turn around to leave and that cold feeling rushes through me again. The heavy oak front door creaks slightly open and I hurriedly walk outside, pulling it tightly shut. We need to do something about that cold draft before the baby is born, I was thinking before sitting in the front passenger's seat.
It takes about an half hour before my husband gets back into the car and starts rattling off, "There is a lot of old stuff inside the mansion. I think the first thing we should do is have everything put in storage before it gets stolen by looters. We can have it all evaluated later. I'll call around as soon as we get back to the apartment for containers and movers."
"We can't be spending a lot of money all at once," my mother warns. "It's cursed and we don't know what could happen to us."
With mom sitting in the back seat, she can't see the flash of anger which crosses over my husband's face. Thankfully, he recovers quickly enough.
"Don't worry Mother," my husband says eerily, while looking at her through the rear view mirror. "I'm sure I can find something I can afford since in a couple of months I won't be paying rent any longer." Smiling into the mirror now he continues. "As long as you can get the construction workers out here after the place is emptied out."
"I have my own savings for that," she replies. "The only bit of blood I am going to use is to pay for the lawyers to set up the trust fund for my daughter."
I know it bothers my husband when mom says the trust fund is going to be in my name only. So I look at his face for that spark of anger again. But the expression I see on his face now is even much worse. It's an intensely gleaming, almost insanely, smile. Which scares me even more.
"You should get that done right away Mother," he says breaking the awkward silence. "God forbid it's not finished and something should happened to you."
I begin protesting his heartlessness when my mother sheiks again. "What is it?" I ask her.
"I saw something open the front door."
I try calming her down by saying how it probably wasn't closed properly. I tell her what happened to me earlier, before I came out to the car.
"No, I saw something," she states flatly.
"Don't worry mother. I'll go close it." My husband then jumps out of the car, rushes up to the mansion's front door and slams it shut. Using the key to make sure it's lock tight this time.
My mother says to me while we are still alone, "I'm never coming here again." Before my husband reaches the car she adds, "I don't think you should live here either."
To Be Continued.....
This is,
I Might Have To Turn This Into A Weekly Serial Because I Can Tell This Story Is Going To Take Longer Than A Week To Finish
Jim Hauenstein
And,
“Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.”
-
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
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