The Elm House Read online

  This will be easy…if you let it, the voice said inside Tiffany’s mind.

  What do you want? Tiffany questioned the voice inside her head.

  You’re going to have to wait and see.

  Who are you? Are you Eveline? Tiffany questioned the voice inside her head.

  Child, shush, I’m older than any mortal. Much ancient, your simpleton mind won’t begin to fathom.

  This can go the easy way, or it can go the hard way, the voice said.

  Tiffany couldn’t help herself, grabbing the steak knife from the knife holder.

  No! she cried out in her mind. Please, don’t make me do this!

  Oh, you will! And you will enjoy it, too. I’ll make sure of it. Your God won’t save you now.

  Please, she begged inside her mind. I won’t hurt them for you!

  Stop your whining and don’t resist. It would only make it much harder on you.

  No! Go to hell, she screamed internally.

  She grabbed her wrist and slammed it hard against the edge of the counter.

  BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Tiffany slammed her wrist harder and harder against the edge of the counter. The knife fell out of her hand.

  Oh, you little whore! You’re going to pay for that! The voice inside her head screamed.

  No matter how much she tried to resist and fight back the control that the shadow entity had over her. The shadow entity was in full control of her meatsuit. Tiffany snatched the kitchen knife and turned the blade towards her face.

  No! No! No! Oh, God! No! Please, No!

  She couldn’t stop herself, slamming the knife straight into her right eye—again and again. Tiffany continued to stab herself in the eye several more times. Sure, she was dead alright, but the shadow entity savagely massacred her eye socket with the knife. Once Tiffany’s vessel wasn’t any use to the shadow entity, Tiffany’s body collapsed on the ground with the knife still jammed deep within her eye socket. As Tiffany fell face-first, the knife jammed deeper into her skull. The sound it made sounded like a knife piercing through a watermelon. The squishy sound of the knife digging deep into her brain. Tiffany was a goner, alright, but she did the right thing. She didn’t give in to the shadow entity. But poor Brad, though; he stood there and witnessed the scene unfold in shock.

  Mary took her last bite of Chicken Parmesan with Alfredo sauce when her cell phone began buzzing, wildly. She slurped the last remaining noddle into her mouth, then wiped her mouth with the red cotton napkin.

  The restaurant they ate at was called: Jack’s Diner. The restaurant was near Jefferson Drive and Walnut Ave. One could think of the restaurant as similar to Olive Garden. Oh boy, they were toe-to-toe competitors.

  The table John and Mary sat at was a round booth placed against the mural wall. The wall had a decorative painting of Sicily. The lights were lightly dimmed to enhanced the romantic evenings; music played from the ceiling’s speakers. Of course, one can’t forget to add a special touch to a great dining without playing Italian music. The singer’s voice sounded angelic yet sad, mourning over a lost one or grieving the absence of a loved one. The small rounded candle’s flame flickered and danced from the wick as the candle was placed in the center of the round table. It was truly a romantic diner for John and Mary’s date night. Of course, their date night would come to a screeching halt in matter of seconds.

  “Hello?” Mary spoke into her cell phone. She couldn’t make out what Brad was saying. He was speaking too damn fast for her. But she knew deep down that something was terribly wrong. Something had happened, she alarmedly thought.

  “Slow down, Brad… what happened?” she asked, leaning slightly forward.

  “The babysitter… the babysitter—”

  “What about the babysitter?” she asked, impatiently. “Is everything okay?”

  “The babysitter… she’s dead! She’s dead!” Brad could be heard shouting over Mary’s cellphone.

  “Oh, my God! Okay… did you call 9-1-1?”

  “Yes!”

  “Hold tight, we’re on our way.”

  John’s startled face stared back at Mary.

  “We need to go,” Mary said.

  “Everything alright?”

  “No, everything is not alright, dammit!” she shouted. She spotted their waitress. She snapped her fingers at her. “Check, please! It’s an emergency.”

  “What happened?” John asked.

  “I don’t know… Brad said the babysitter is dead.”

  “Dead?!” John said, alarmed. He got up, threw his coat on as Mary threw her coat on, dug into her purse for their credit card.

  The slim waitress handed them their check.

  “Put it on the card,” Mary told her. The waitress nodded then briskly headed to the cash register. Moments later, she arrived back and told them to have a good night with their receipt.

  Mary left behind ten-dollar tip for her and told her goodnight. John and her left the restaurant quickly. Poor Brad… did he see anything? Mary thought. Oh, Brad did see it—alright. It may had left a mark on his psyche.

  “One… two… three,” one EMT said to the other as they lifted Tiffany’s carcass up then over to the body bag. One EMT placed her dangling hand inside the bag then zipped the bag shut. After they were done raising the stretcher up, they wheeled her lifeless body out of the house. The wheels on the stretcher would squeak as it turned and make a thud sound.

  Brad shuddered at the sight of her blood on the kitchen’s tiled floor.

  One officer knelt down, wearing gloves, and placed the kitchen knife into an evidence bag. Tiffany’s blood was caked on the blade, possibly some brain matter, when the knife went inside the evidence bag. Crime Scene Investigators took photos of the pool of blood.

  Flash!

  The cameras emitted a bright blinding light. A yellow marker rested next to the pool of blood.

  Bright yellow crime-scene tape stretched out across the doorway of the kitchen.

  Brad could hear the commotion outside as they neighbors were attracted to the bright flashing red and blue lights. Their noses poking around like nosey-bodies as the neighbors stood outside of the Elm house.

  Great! I’ll hear this for the rest of the school year, Brad grimly thought.

  Hey, Brad. I heard your hot babysitter stabbed herself, really good. We told you that house was tainted and damned. Just wait until the house takes other people’s lives, and the house will!

  That’s the last thing I need to hear, Brad thought.

  His parents had burst through the front door. Mother embraced Brad than his father.

  “Where’s your sister?” mother asked.

  “I told her to stay in her room,” Brad said.

  “Good,” father said.

  Mother rubbed Brad’s shoulders and kissed his forehead.

  “Are you alright? Did you see anything?” she asked, worriedly.

  Brad sadly nodded his head. First time, I ever seen someone kill themselves.

  “Ma’am, if you won’t mind; I’ll like to ask your son a couple of questions,” an officer asked Brad’s mother.

  “What is there to ask? She killed herself!” Mother said. Her tone sounded bewildered.

  “We would like to know what he witnessed. It’s just protocol.”

  “John, can you go and keep Jesse company?” Mary asked him. Brad noticed his mother spotted Tiffany’s bag being searched through by an office.

  They’re going to find the peace pipe, and I’m going to get grounded.

  One office held the pipe in his hand with pair of examiners glove and motioned one office to come over. Then the pipe was placed inside an evidence bag.

  Mary’s eyes widened and pointed to the pipe that was recently placed inside the evidence bag.

  “Is that… is that a crack pipe?” she asked, bewildered.

  Oh, god!

  She covered her mouth. “How could I let a crack head, babysit our children?”

  “Ma ’me, it’s not a crack pipe. It�
�s used to smoke marijuana,” the police officer said who stood in front of Brad.

  Mary looked at Brad.

  “Did you know about this?” she asked, tilting her head.

  The police officer coldly stared at Brad.

  Brad sweat beats on his brow started to form.

  He spotted the same officer place the baggie of weed into an evidence bag.

  “Son, answer the question,” John told Brad.

  “Did you smoke some dope with your babysitter?” the officer asked, calmly.

  Brad was about to break under pressure. What the hell am I going to say? He thought.

  The truth will set you free.

  Brad shook his head.

  “No.”

  “Thank, God!” John made a sign of the cross. He patted Brad on the shoulder. “Smart, very smart choice. You see, son… sometimes the devil hides in plain sight.”

  Mary looked at him then rolled her eyes.

  “Maybe Tiffany had a legal marijuana medical card?” she asked the officer.

  “Hey, Thomas, does the vic has a registered marijuana card?” the officer asked.

  “Checking,” Thomas said, shifting through her purse. He held some type of card in his hand as he examined it. Brad couldn’t make out what the card said.

  “Yup,” Thomas said.

  “It’s very well possible that she was having issues, mentally.” The officer nodded. “But to be honest, this house has an effect on people.”

  John bewildered. He shook his head. “What does that even mean?”

  “The house has history.”

  “Every home has histories,” John scoffed. “This house shouldn’t be any different.”

  The officer shrugged.

  “I know, but not this home.”

  “What are you trying to say?” asked John. “This house makes people kill themselves?” He laughed. “The devil can only make people kill themselves. The devil—”

  “John, go check on Jesse,” Mary said, slightly pushing him upward.

  “How could we not even see it? She had the devil inside her.”

  Mary shook her head.

  “Go upstairs and check on Jesse,” Mary said, firmly.

  John did what he was told, headed up the stairs. Good boy, John. Listen to your wife.

  “I’m sorry. My husband can get over dramatic at times,” Mary said to the officer.

  “It’s understandable. My first case was inside this house. There’s things that I don’t even understand.”

  Mary nodded. She paused a moment. Brad could tell a wheel was turning inside her head. “What has happened in this house?”

  “Things that don’t make sense. But, first, I want to get Brad’s statement,” the officer said, facing Brad. “So, Brad, you were sleeping on the couch. How did you find your babysitter?”

  “I heard loud banging sounds in the kitchen. I got up and checked on her,” Brad said.

  “Then you saw your babysitter stab herself?”

  Brad nodded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did she say anything or… what did she do before she stabbed herself?”

  Brad tried to recall what he’d seen, but his mind blurred a lot of the parts out. Perhaps, Brad’s mind was trying to protect him from the traumatic experience. He shook his head.

  “She didn’t say anything. The knife went inside her eye socket numerous times. I think… she groaned as she stabbed herself in the eye. Then she didn’t say anything but kept on stabbing herself.”

  Mother’s face turned green.

  “Oh, my God!” she said, placing her hand to her forehead. “Poor girl,” she said, sadly.

  “And what did you do?” the officer asked.

  “I called 9-1-1, immediately.”

  The officer exhaled a breath out from his lungs, shook his head. He glanced at Mary.

  “It’s unfortunate that Brad had to witnessed it. There’s counseling that he could go to.”

  Mary nodded.

  “Also, we’re going to ask you to get your family to a friend’s house or a motel for a couple of nights, during the investigation.”

  Mary nodded.

  “Yeah, I understand. Jesus!” she said.

  Brad could see how everything had hit his mother. It was a shocker, alright. Brad, too, felt that everything was surreal. The night for Brad was unfathomable.

  “Also, you’ll have to call a crime scene cleaning service, so you and your family can get their normal schedules. If you’d want, maybe you could also bless the house. If that’s something you’re into, you can.”

  Mary nodded.

  “Until then, Brad, I think we’re done.” The officer nodded.

  “Thank you, sir.” Brad nodded.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and see how Jesse is doing?” His mother rubbed Brad’s back.

  Brad broodily nodded, grabbed the stair’s railing, headed to the second-floor hallway. He entered Jesse’s bedroom, plopped down on her bed.

  “Is everything okay?” Jesse asked.

  Brad put on a fake smile and nodded.

  “Yeah… everything’s fine, ladybug.”

  Jesse held her teddy bear close to her chest, frowned and shook her head.

  “Tiffany hurt herself… she’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “Jesse, she’s fine!” John said, sounding alarmed and almost panic struck.

  How did she even know that?

  “She stabbed herself in her eye…” Jesse said as she trailed off into space.

  “Jesse, that’s enough. She’s fine,” John said, trying to reassure her.

  Brad nodded.

  “She’s fine,” he said.

  Jesse furrowed her eyebrows and tucked in her lips.

  “No, she’s not! You’re lying. Lying. She’s right there! Her eye is gone and blood everywhere.” She pointed near the door. “She’s saying—”

  “Stop it!” John said. “She’s fine.”

  Father looks almost scared, Brad thought. There was a look inside John’s eyes that he never seen before. Something, perhaps, Brad could tell—intuitively. John could very well be scared, but he’d never admit it. Father would never admit it until a chair flies across the room, Brad thought.

  “I’m not going to stop!” Jesse screamed. “She warning us and Brad. She says, ‘the house is evil. The house eats to become stronger’.”

  The house is evil… the house consumes your family and anyone you hold close, Brad remembered Casandra’s warning.

  God told her to kill her children.

  God savagely raped Eveline to force her to submit to his will, Brad remembered Tiffany’s scary story.

  Brad felt the eeriness rush over his body. The lumps on the back of his neck rose. He knew Jesse wasn’t there when Tiffany killed herself. Does this house imprison souls? Brad questioned.

  He heard footsteps approaching Jesse’s room.

  Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

  The footsteps appeared to come closer and closer.

  Tell me that I’m not hearing things again, Brad thought.

  “Hey, buttercup!” Brad’s mother said. Her tone was tender and sweet.

  “Mommy… I’m scared.”

  “She’s been in a fit,” John said to his wife.

  Mary sat beside Jesse and wrapped her arms around her.

  “There’s nothing to be scared about, pumpkin.”

  Jesse sniffled.

  “Yes, there is… the bad man will get us.”

  “Bad man?” Mary asked.

  “She saw what happened.” John frowned.

  Brad shook his head.

  “No. She wasn’t there,” he protested.

  John placed his hand in front of him.

  “Brad, you’re a good boy with a good heart. Jesse shouldn’t had seen what had happened.”

  “I didn’t see… I knew… Tiffany told me… she told me to tell you, ‘the house is evil’,” Jesse insisted. She pointed her index finger near the door. “She’s right there.”r />
  Mary shook her head. Her eyebrows furrowed.

  “She went home… home to her parents,” Mary said, trying to lie the best way that she could. But she wasn’t any good at it. A white lie—is good sometimes—to tell someone, Brad thought.

  “Her eye is missing… and her shirt has blood all over it,” Jesse said.

  Brad remembered the light white tank-top Tiffany had worn. It was indeed saturated with her blood, he remembered. How is she seeing her? Brad questioned. Is my sister—gifted?

  Gifted children are believed to see ghosts, and sometimes they tell their parents that they’re imaginary friends. But Tiffany wasn’t an imaginary friend. She was real, physically—real, and Jesse was able to see her.

  Mary kissed Jesse’s forehead.

  “You wanna know what?” asked Mary.

  Jesse shrugged.

  “What?”

  “Tiffany told me… you wanted to get some ice cream.” Mary nodded, smiled ear to ear.

  “She told you that?”

  Mary nodded.

  Brad already knew what mother was brewing, and she was very smart to do so.

  “She told me that you’ve been a good girl. And she’d told me to bring you out for ice cream.”

  Then it dawned to John what was going on, Brad assumed.

  “She sure did.” He smiled. “Come on, let’s get some ice cream. I haven’t had those ice cream cones with those cute eyes on them for a long time.”

  Ah! Premo’s Ice cream. Wow! Now that brings me back some fond memories.

  Jesse sprung up from bed.

  “Can I get the chocolate ice cream with those eyes in it?” she asked. Her eyes seemed to glow. A glow of happiness, her eyes appeared.

  “Sure thing,” John said, picking her up. “Well grab your coat, shoes and off to Premo’s Ice cream—we go!”

  “YAY!” Jesse shouted.

  Smooth, daddio, smooth.