Sister Till Death Do Us Part

“Hazel where did you put the money for this big man,” asked Ethel. The big man was Jason Watts a fourteen-year-old Mexican boy that had been adopted by the Watts family at birth. His dark skin was glowing from the sunscreen his mom had applied before he left the house. He had just mowed the Greystone Mansion’s lawn and reluctantly entered into the parlor to collect his pay.

“Jason, do you have to drip sweat all over my nice clean floor? Asked Ethel as she pushed her walker closer to him. Jason had heard so many horror stories at the local school of how the Greystone sisters had killed their husbands and buried them in the basement. Then there was the story of how the house was haunted by the husbands that didn’t let the sisters leave the mansion. So many stories that Jason wanted no part in finding out if they were true.

“Listen, we only have nine dollars and fifty cents in the cookie jar. If you come down to the basement with me, I have the other fifty cents on a shelf,” Ethel said in a deep throated voice she obtained from smoking for over seventy-years. Her voice and the long dirty see through night gown were freaking Jason nearly out of his wits.

“No, please it’s alright, 9.50$ is ok,” as he was trembling holding the change in his hand.

“Remember to remind me that we owe you fifty cents extra next week,” Jason immediately did an about face and tripped on the carpet that had been in the same location for the past sixty-years. The beets that had been harvested by the other caretaker had oust out red juice that created blood like stains. Just as luck would have it poor Jason’s face feel into the exact spot on the rug. Scrambling to his feet he came face to face with himself in a long mirror. His money feel onto the floor and the coins rolled over to Hazel who had fallen asleep sitting in tattered armchair. Her hair that hadn’t been washed in weeks stood straight into the air and her teeth had fallen out of her mouth onto her open blouse. Ethel had already turned her walker around making her way to the kitchen. Coming back into the parlor she had a large butcher knife in her hand asking if Jason needed any help picking up his money from the floor. Jason was ever so carefully kneeling down to pick up the last quarter when looking up he saw the butcher knife.

“Please no, I don’t want the money. I just want to go home”. Hazel woke up startled and her teeth feel onto the top of Jason’s hand. The young Mexican peed his pants and sat in between the two ninety-year-old sisters.

“Young man you just peed onto our clean floor. Come to the kitchen and I’ll get you a mob and water. You are going to clean up your mess,” said Ethel.

Jason with Hazel’s teeth still sitting on his hand wanted nothing to do with going to the kitchen with a woman holding the butcher knife. The weather was changing as fast as the events were taking place in the parlor. The strong winds with pounding rain started to blow the long curtains into the house. Thunder and lightning took over from the radio’s news cast for the audio portion of the scene happening involving Jason and the Greystone sisters.

“Hazel, your teeth are on Jason’s hand. For Christ’s sake sister get a hold of yourself. You’re scaring this poor child”.

Jason by this time had taken Hazel’s teeth off his hand and placed them on the coffee table. He was soaking in sweat and the pee was running down his legs. Every step he took towards the front door his socks would make a squishing noise that neither sister could identify. “Ethel is that the toilet upstairs that’s making that squishy noise?”

Almost to the brass door handle where he could see the rain pounding against his bicycle Jason was actually calming down. He looked towards the dinning room and saw the sisters’ two husband holding up geese by their feet with shot guns in the other hand in a three by five feet picture frame. The picture gave the impression that the husbands were about to step out of the picture into the dinning room. As he touched the door handle a loud strike of lightning struck the electrical transformer not fifty feet from the Greystone Mansion. He bounced back onto his butt onto the what he thought was a blood-stained carpet. By this time the sisters had found old kerosene lanterns that they were holding in their hands next to their heads. The lights went out and Jason was between what looked like the two-armed husbands and the sisters with lanterns reflecting their 90 year old faces. Ethel still holding the large butcher knife thinking she would use it on anyone that entered their residence. Jason jumped to his feet and made a dash for the front door when the huge picture of the husbands came smashing to the floor. A gust of wind blew the door open knocking the old 12 gauge shot gun, that the sisters always kept in case they needed it onto the floor. It went off and blew a hole into the husbands’ picture that forced screams from both Ethel and Hazel.

“We have to go to the basement, we’ll be safe down there,”

“Come on Jason, come with us we’ll protect you,”

Jason had one thought of where he wanted to go and it wasn’t in the basement with these two murders. He lunged for the shot gun and threw it further into the dinning room. The sisters were making their way to the basement stairs when Constable Hunter came into the front entrance. Jason looked up and immediately saw the word hunter and lost conscience. The sisters couldn’t see but a silhouette at the front door. Hazel pushed Ethel with her walker towards the open basement door. Ethel fell sixteen stairs to her death. Hazel who had lost her hearing twenty-years prior wasn’t aware Ethel had fallen to her death. She started down the stairs and tripped over Ethel’s walker falling to her death beside her sister. The police constable heard the sisters falling and ran towards the stairs to help. He too fell down the stair landing into the dead bodies of the ninety and ninety-five year old's. He injured his leg falling and screamed loud enough to wake up Jason. The lights came back on and allowed the terrified little Mexican boy to find his way to the injured police officer.

“We have to get out of here. The husbands of these two crazy sisters are buried down here in this basement. Please get up and let’s get out of here,”

“Son, I use to mow the lawn for Hazel and Ethel years ago when I was your age. Those ghost stories are all nonsense. Help me up and I’ll drive you home,”

“Mister your leg is missing, you can’t drive a car,”

As Jason was piecing what was happening in his mind, he suddenly realized that he had been sleeping in the little shed the Greystone sisters kept their lawn mower. “Jason, are you going to mow our lawn today or am I,” asked Ethel holding the butcher knife in her hand at the entrance of the shed. So, the stories lived on.