Haunting Of Verdica

It wasn’t supposed to happen- but it did.

Marie threw her duffle in the car trunk and bellowed for the two children to enter. Tears decorated her face, make-up by drowsiness. Her heart was full yet empty. She hastily forced herself in, strapping the seatbelt on. She took a deep breath, then another one. Marie was on the verge of bawling. She didn’t expect it. It all happened as fast as time itself. She took a glance at the children- her children.

“Anna,” she took a deep breath, “Anna, what’s… what’s, that in your hand?”

Anna had been dumbfounded. 

The fifteen years old girl stared into nothingness, gripping a rather dated book, whose condition declared it had survived several generations. The apprehensive girl opened her mouth but no sound escaped. 

“Anna! Anna! Anna!” Marie tried her hardest to receive her attention but it only led to the lamentation of Peter. 

Anna heard not one sound, all she could think about was what really happened last night. It was a peaceful night, peaceful until he came home.

People whispered that the mansion was haunted, they whispered of feeble tales of its creation, of how the cruel voodoo witch Verdica murdered husband and bathed in his blood; all strayed, but Marie and her, recently wedded husband, Jeff. He was kind, loving, romantic; taking her to picnics, buying roses like the romantic he was. It was all these traits that convinced Marie to marry him. There was an issue though; her family despised him. It was not that he was seven years her senior nor that his account wasn’t loaded, but the reality that he was black. They gave her an ultimatum; marry Jeff and be estranged by her or don’t and inherit their illustrious fortunes. She chose love and fled to New Orleans where she and her husband would settle in an unbelievably inexpensive mansion. It was no telling that it was a former grand estate, a spectacle in its days.

“Jeff isn’t home yet I see,” Anna said dryly. Marie had been checking and rechecking her phone every minute on the minute.

“No,” she breathed out. She sighed, his new job was limiting their time together, time Marie once cherished so much. It had not been a quarter of a year since they occupy the building yet the walls were strange to her; they scream during the night to her dismay.

“In due time you’ll be able to call him dad,” Marie smiled but only earned the look of disapproval by Anna.

“Doubt it,” the child muttered to the poignancy of Marie.

“Check on Peter, he should be asleep, but you know how he is,” Marie changed to subject quickly.

Anna gave a gentle nod and proceed as told. It was once leaving, she heard the wrestling of keys.

Anna would take the narrow staircase up but her attention was stolen by the forbidden door leading to the basement. Like the intrigued child she was, she wondered. The moon was at its highest, nocturnal creatures liaised with each other and all living occupancy was off to slumber. The obstinate child began to turn the knob. The door screamed, racing the heart of the poor child. She thought to abandon her curiosity but quickly decided against it. She gently pushed the wooden door open. There was no source of illumination in sight but the reflection of sunlight entering from a rather dwarf window. 

There was no sound; a great void of nothing. The room wasn’t special at glance nor at another. There laid boxes of various kinds and sizes all over the floor, untidily packed. She slowly made her way down the shaking stairs. One step at a time she went, unsure fully about her surroundings. It was in a corner, an object caught her attention- it was a book. It was withering away, washed by presumably centuries of dust but like the curious cat she was, she seized it. 

The room was now below negative one hundred degrees Celsius. invisible presences danced around the room.

“Who’s there?” Anna fired, alerted and alarmed.

“Get out!” the wind screeched.

The girl didn’t need another warning as she grabbed her two feet and out she ran. She wanted her mother, but she was nowhere around so she made for Marie. Anna was brought to a halt once she reached the living area. Marie and Jeff were in a gladiator match, a match of words but deadly nonetheless.

“It’s another woman, isn’t it?” Marie barked.

“I can’t take this. You are one to speak. Dragging our family to the city, all for fantasies about your ex,” Jeff retaliated.

“He has nothing to do with me wanting to live here. That was my choice-”

“Yes, your choice! Not ours!”

“That’s not fair, I don’t want to hear anything more about this.”

“Right, run when the truth hurts. I have to work my ass off for this family and all you do is just shut yourself in all day, doing what? Painting? I sure don’t see any paintings. I bet you are still seeing him. My mama was right. You are a sleazy-”

“Sleazy what Jefferson? Sleazy what?” you could hear the anguish in her voice. 

Anna didn’t want to be a part of this so she hurried to her room and slammed to door shut. Tears crept in corner of her eyes. This wasn’t the family she expected but sadly it was better than her last. She threw herself on the bed, an ancient thing. She desired to distance herself from reality and what better way than to lose yourself in newly discovered artwork. She timidly brushed aged dust off the book to reveal the cover and on it was one word; Verdica.

If it was anyone else they would throw the book away, believing in silly superstition but no, it was the curious Anna, and she was more intrigued than fearful though the commotion earlier. Therefore the girl opened the book to unveil its contents.

‘It was the year 1803, a year after our marriage, George had been acting dubiously. I wonder if he regrets forsaking his wife and marrying me. He promised to make me happy and I, him but in recent times, he is hardly home, hardly here with me. My people turned their backs on me, forsaken me for I now lie with the despot. I wish they understood, I chose to love, I chose freedom. I shed the slave name I was given and emerged as Verdica Badeaux, a beautiful name, a french name. Verdica was my creation though he loved it.’

The paper spoke.

“My lady, Seigneur Badeaux has a meeting with Monsier Clément de Laussat,” the houseslave announced upon Verdica’s entry in his study.

“It seems that’s all he does these days,” the lady sighed, “thank you, you may go off to your quarters now.”

‘I had been lonely these past few weeks, it is like my husband wished not to make time for me. I must confess I have taken others to bed. Am I proud of it? No, but what choice did I have. I have desires as well and I desired to be touched.’

“My lady! Come! Come! Come and see!” an appeal shouted from outside.

The commotion caused the lady to rush outside without a second thought. There he laid, stiff as a stone, as dead as the dodo. The newly-made widow was horrified by the mutilation of her beloved. She didn’t believe her eyes and what came next.

“She did it!” a shout made and then another and another. They kept bellowing the same three words. Fear took control and Verdica tried to run but that was futile. She was seized and chained. 

‘Dear Lord, you know I did not kill my husband. I know not what to do. They have made up their mind about my execution. I am guilty nonetheless, my infidelity has been the death of my love and my downfall. I wonder’

The sentence seized and undoubtedly Anna could only imagine what came next. They killed her and started this urban legend to demonize her. It brought a tear to the little girl’s eyes. She wrapped the book in her arms protectively, and it was then she heard the commotion in the living area escalated. 

There came a loud scream. It almost shook the house.

Anna was fearful of the worst so she rushed to see what had happened. What she saw, she was not prepared for. It was the most heinous scene, she had ever seen. It was unspeakable. It was odious.

She came face to face with her adopted father swimming stilly in a pool of blood and Peter on top of him with a cleaver in his right hand. Marie was on her knees, eyes bloodshot in horror, frozen with no words to utter. 

The image stained Anna’s mind. It was the only thing she could think of as the car was being navigated out of the city, out of New Orleans.

They would soon come to never speak of that night.