The ad, tucked away in the classifieds, was like a moth to a flame for me, Evelyn Thorne, a renowned freelance paranormal investigator, but an unknown witch hunter. "Haunted Mansion? Week-long Stay. Win a Lifetime Supply of the Exquisite Blackthorne Coffee!" were the words that gnawed ominously at me.
A lifetime of their signature dark roast? That would be such a lifetime treatment for a freak like me whose love for the coffee brand bordered on addiction. It was practically a dare. Whispers of Blackwood Manor's hauntings had been swirling for decades, ever since the tragic fire that claimed the Blackthorne family. The official story was an electrical fault, but rumors hinted at a darker secret.
Ignoring the raised eyebrows that hinted at suspicion and warning from my skeptical editor whose spectacles hung loosely off his long nose, I left the office with the volume to go pack my ghost-hunting gear – EMF readers, temperature gauges, and a voice recorder that looked like a prop from a 1950s sci-fi film.
With a mix of some of my favorite old school RnB songs oozing from the speakers of my little wagon, I could see Blackwood Manor looming large on the hill, a gothic silhouette against the bruised twilight sky. Gargoyles, weathered and grotesque, leered down from the crumbling facade. Inside, dust motes danced in the single shaft of light from my flashlight. The air hung heavy with the smell of damp earth and decay.
The first night was uneventful. The only sounds were the creaking of the house settling and the rhythmic drip of a leaky faucet. Disappointment gnawed at me.
"Maybe this was just a publicity stunt. Perhaps an attempt at inflating the property's price before putting it up for sale" I thought
But then, the second night, it started. A low, mournful melody, like a child's lullaby played on a broken music box, echoed through the halls. It wasn't hideous, just ominous and sinister. The EMF reader spiked wildly near a dusty nursery, the temperature plummeting. On the voice recorder, a whisper, too faint to understand, sent shivers down my spine.
That was but just a welcome party and each night from then on brought new phenomena. Cold spots, flickering lights, disembodied footsteps. On the fourth night, I was startled in the deep of the night to a figure standing at the foot of my bed, shrouded in shadow.
Panic surged through me, but before I could scream, the figure vanished. In its absence, a scent of lavender and woodsmoke lingered. Lavender – the Blackthorne family matriarch's favorite scent, according to local lore.
By the fifth night, I was a mess of frayed nerves and churning curiosity. The haunting was undeniably real, but in my experience there's always a why? Who, or what, concerned with the case. The answer seemed to lie in the nursery that kept spiking my EMF reader, so I tiptoed towards it.
A hidden compartment in the rocking horse at the centre of the nursery revealed a tattered diary belonging to one Emily Blackthorne. It spoke of a fire set by a jealous relative, a locked room, and a desperate plea for help.
Suddenly, the haunting clicked. Emily wasn't malevolent, just a lost soul trapped in the inferno. On the last night, I set up a makeshift spirit box, white noise crackling through the room. A voice, this time clear, cut through the static. "Help me… find the key…" with one frail finger emanating from the dark corner pointing towards the fireplace. With shaking hands, I cleared away the debris. Tucked behind a loose brick was a rusted key.
As I picked the key, another brick fell off revealing a keyhole. I slotted the key in and turned and immediately it unlocked a hidden room behind the nursery wall. The air was thick with smoke and ash. A small music box sat on a charred crib. As I picked it up, the mournful melody filled the room, then faded away to silence and a sense of peace settled over the mansion.
The following morning, the air felt lighter, the oppressive atmosphere gone. I emerged from Blackwood Manor a changed woman. The free coffee definitely worth the adventure, but then the true reward was the feeling of closure I had brought to Emily's restless soul.
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