Dream Mansion

Mom with her two young adult, unmarried children, ride along the interstate in her new purchased SUV. She drives off the interstate onto the state highway.

           “Mom you never really told us how you got that winning lottery number,” William says.

           She sighs then says, “I got it from your father.”

           “Before he died?” Jill asks.

           Mom sighs. “It was the date that he died.”

           “Wow, that’s ghoulish mom,” William says.

           “It was, man, I didn’t notice,” Jill says.

           “We tried our wedding date, birthdays, your birthdays, so I thought that I’d give it a try.”

           “It’s like dad giving you a going away gift,” Jill says.

           “I guess that you can say that, since he has been gone for a month,” Mom says.

           She drives off of the highway onto a road, after a mile turns onto a driveway. The concrete damaged from lack of maintenance, allows grass to grow through cracks. Thickets has grown high on either side of the driveway.

           “Think those pythons, maybe, hang out in it?” Jill asks.

           “No, anyway we are maybe twenty miles from the everglades,” William says.

           “Well, they say that they will go anywhere to eat.”

           “I doubt this far.”

           “There it is,” Mom says.

           They look at a two-story mansion with a dilapidated façade and boards covering the windows.   

           “Mom,” Jill complains.

           “Wait a minute, when it is finish like I want it to be, it will be like a palace,” Mom says.

           “Mom, you didn’t pay for it yet did you?” William asks.

           “Lock, stock and barrel.”

           Mom’s lottery numbers were the sole winner of the power ball pay out of three hundred and seventy million dollars after taxes and after satisfying close relatives, she has three hundred and fifty millions dollars in her bank account.

           “How much mom?” Jill asks.

           “One hundred thousand.”

           “For that,” William says.

           “Yes, and I intend to spend what I need to make it my dream mansion.”

           She stops the SUV at the outside steps of the mansion. “I’ll call the contractor and let him know that we’re here.” She calls; it goes to voice mail. “He’s not answering. Oh well, I have the key.”

           The front door opens with creaks. Inside, sunlight flows through the slots between the board reminds Jill that they’re entering one of those mansion in a Vincent Price horror movie.

           “Can we wait outside?” Jill asks.

           “What for?” Mom asks.

           “That contractor.”

           “I’ll call him again.” She does; it goes to voice mail. “Let’s look around.”

           Reluctantly, the siblings agreed.

           Each step begets a creak, constant waving to defend themselves from spider webs.

           “This place is scary,” Jill says.

           “It stinks too,” William says.

           “It will not be in a year’s time,” Mom says.

           “How much will it cost to do that?” William asks.

           “Five million or so,” Mom says.

           Behind Mom’s back they look at each other, display their disbelief with frowning gestures. After their tour of the first-floor rooms and kitchen, Jill says, “call that contractor again mom.” Mom does with the same results. “Okay next upstairs,” Mom says.

“Do we have too?” Jill asks.

“Come on,” Mom says.

They step up the stairway in which each are weak from age so there are creaks. “Gee whiz mom,” William says.

           “Don’t be a scary cat,” Mom says.

           On the floor, they stop to look up and down the hallway before moving on. There is less sunlight. A portrait of a former owner had fallen to rest on the floor upright. It seems to Jill that the eyes are tracking them. “I think that we should wait outside for that contractor; maybe, he’s on the highway and can’t or won’t answer his phone,” she says.

           Mom ignores her, walks along the hallway; they follow her as she opens doors to the bedrooms, bathrooms, a nook, more sunlight allows her to see each room.

           “Did you hear that?” William asks.

           “Hear what?” Jill asks.

           They listen.

           “I didn’t hear anything, come on,” Mom says. She wants to get a good idea of what to do for each room.

           “Did you hear that?” William asks.

           Annoyed. “Hear what?” Mom asks.

           “That,” William says.

           They listen.

           “Nothing, come on,” Mom says. She hears it, stops her survey.

           “Mom, what is it?” Jill asks.

           They heard it then looks around to determine from where did they hear it. They look at each other, too nervous, too scared to tell each other what it might be. They hear it again, louder than before. “It’s the walls,” Jill hollers. Their dash to the stairway become a scurry down it then full flight out of the mansion into the SUV.  Mom drives fast back onto the highway. She does not stop until encouraged by her children to do so. She pulls onto the side of the highway. “The damn place is haunted; they didn’t tell me that shit,” she says.

           “Maybe that’s why it was so cheap,” William says.  

           They stop at a restaurant. After ordering their meals, Mom calls the contractor.

           “I am going to tell him that I want to stop renovations on that haunted mansion.”

           “What about the money that you already paid for it?” William asks.

           “Screw it, I can afford to do that.”

           “Hello,” man says.

           “Mister Caldwell?”

           “No.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry; I must have dialed the wrong number.”

           “No, you didn’t, I’m trooper Masters.”

           “Who?”  

           Familiar with the area, Caldwell had parked his truck on a service road that’s not visible from the mansion. He decided to not to wait for his client instead ventured into the mansion for his inspections. He decided to begin in the basement. With the aid of a flashlight, he stepped down the stairway; the aged weak wood gave way under his overweight size. He tumbles onto the floor, causing a beam to loosen that trapped him, also fractured a leg. Although semi unconscious, he was able to moan whenever he felt pain.

           “That is what we heard,” Mom says.

           “We saw his truck and phone inside it, and we were able to track him to the mansion and locate him when hearing his moans. Those old heater ducts in the basement had amplified his moans throughout the place,” Masters says.

           “We thought it was the walls chasing us out of the house, didn’t want us in there,” Jill says.

           Masters holds back a laugh instead smiles.

           “Will mister Caldwell be alright?” Mom asks.

           “He’s in the hospital. The doctors says it might be a while before they release him.”

           “We can visit can’t we?” Mom asks.

           “Yes, you can,” Masters says.

           After Masters has gone.

           “What are you going to do now?” William asks.   

           “After lunch, we’re going to that hospital to tell mister Caldwell that I can wait until he’s healthy enough to do the job. After that, we going home.”