Chadwick Manor

It has been over forty years, but to me it seemed like yesterday.  The ruins of the estate have been left as is since no one wishes to enter the grounds that seem cursed and forbidding since that day in late September 1974 when the first flash of flames appeared that would consume the manor in a blaze that many swore came from Hell itself.  I, for one, do not bend so easily to superstition and folklore, but the evidence is quite compelling that what happened on the grounds on that fateful night was not of this world.  

Wealth has its privileges and when I met Wesley Chadwick in Sir Weller Gantry Preparatory School in the 1960’s, we were considered the cream of the crop.  Many from the upper middle class squeezed and sacrificed to send their sons to this prestigious school known for graduating their students into Ivy League colleges, but for me and Wesley, there was no economic strain for either of our upper gentry families.  During our first holiday break, I was invited to Chadwick Manor and discovered even though my father lived in luxury, even our  wealth and splendor was pale in comparison to what was contained the Chadwick Manor from the arena sized dining room with a table that could be set to serve over one hundred guests to the swimming pool with the mosaic inlay of the family crest in the bottom as well as the temperature controls that kept the pool at a consistent comfortable temperature.  But with the gilded gold trim of the paneling and the lavish light fixtures with sensors that would splash light in the dark hallway as you moved through it, there was a whispering of a dark secret, a curse that weighed heavy on the entire manor at all times.  It hung in the air like an unpleasant aroma, evident in the quick side glances you would receive from the fifty employed staff who knew the curse, the haunting of the manor, because they were the ones who had experienced it first hand in the dark corners of the manor.  There were things said that were said in code so that an outsider would not have a clue about the secrets of Chadwick Manor.  Rising from the top of a North Carolian hill, Chadwick Manor was built in two centuries previous when slavery still existed in this scenic land in the Great Smokey Mountains near Ashville and from first impression it reminded me of something from the pages of Edgar Allan Poe.  The gate was wrought iron with spikes to prevent intruders from gaining entrance.  Popular trees populated the front yard as you approached on the semicircular driveway that used to accompany horse and buggies when first put to use.  

“Jeremy Crankston.” I was greeted warmly by Wesley’s mother, Maleficent Elizabeth Channing Chadwick. “Please call me Mally.” Her face was that of a lady of her age, but many of the valleys had been artfully filled in with makeup applied by one of her servants most likely. “Wes is in the drawing room.  Follow me.” 

The drawing room seemed like a mile hike through the manor, but when we finally arrived, Wesley was sitting at a computer and upon seeing his mother, quickly switched the screen to a more acceptable website than the one he had just been on.  She knew, but pretended she didn’t.  She did roll her eyes as she left the room.  

“Glad you could join us for the holidays.” Wesley leaned back in his chair and pressed a button as a picture of a man and woman engaged in sex splashed across the screen. “Welcome to the most boring place on the face of the earth.”

“How can this place be boring.” I waved my arms, “This place is a castle.” 

“And like a castle, it is drafty and cold and devoid of anything that resembles human emotion.  The Ice Castle.” 

“I think these digs are great.” I sat down in the chair next to him.  

“Alright.” He shook his head, “So what do you think of Gantry Prep, by the way?”

“Seems alright.” I nodded.

“You’re not one of those kids from Maryborough are you?” He chuckled. 

“No, not me.  My dad is CEO of one of the major distributors on the East Coast.” I bragged, something I did not do very often when it came to talking about my old man.  There were associates who came over to the house who appeared to be from the other side of the law, but dad poured them drinks from his wet bar from the game room that opened to our swimming pool. 

Maryborough was that section before you got to Gash Harbor where houses went for millions on the open market.  It had an odor that was unpleasant.  I had a girlfriend from Maryborough who liked to walk on the shoreline where the sea vomited up its dead and decaying things, but she didn’t notice the unpleasant smell and finally I had to break it off because she began to take on the aroma herself.  There are some avid boaters from that area, but for the most part these people are the wannabes who think that an outdoor stove is the ultimate luxury.  

Since the school was private, many of the students who went there were from Maryborough as their parents scraped and scrimped to afford the overpriced tuition.  Wes and I spent a lot of our time poking fun at those who believed they came from an affluent background, but you could smell the dead and decaying things in their clothing. 

Wes broke out a couple of joints, fatties he rolled earlier of some very fine Jamaican stuff.  “My dad does not approve, but then he never really checks up on what I do in this place.”

The smoke hung in the air like the odor at Maryborough, but this odor was much more palatable to me and after a few tokes, I was floating on a satin cloud.

“One night the Rodriguez sisters came up and after a few tokes of this stuff, I nailed both of them.  Dude it was one of the best highs I’ve ever had.” He took a long hit off the joint as a snake of a smile ran over his face.  His brown eyes began to take on a luster and he went to a website where there was girl on girl. “I really like to watch this stuff.  What about you?”

“I’m alright with it.” I nodded as we watched the entire twenty minute clip. 

“That just cost my dad about eighty bucks.  He doesn’t even know.” Wes laughed.

“Seems like you got everything in a nutshell.” I laughed and for some reason found it difficult to stop.

“You wait.  Night’s young.  There are things that take place here I cannot describe.” His face tightened like a fist. “You wait.  You’ll see.” 

The moaning woke me from a deep sleep. 

“Jesus, not already.” I heard Wes mumble from under his blankets.

“What is it?” I asked sitting up.

“You do not want to know.” He shook his head as he put his bare feet on the floor. “There are some family secrets that are best kept secrets, but it seems little by little our family is letting the cat out of the bag.”

“What do you mean?” I shook my head.

“They have repainted all of the walls, they have refurbished every one of the forty rooms in this place, but it keeps coming back.” His gaze was elsewhere as he opened the door. “It’s name is Kelbob.”

“Kelbob?” The name felt strange on my own tongue as I repeated it.

“Yeah.  He’s awake.” Wes opened the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked as I watched him walk into the hall.  

“Someone has to feed it.” He scowled sourly.

“Feed?” I was aghast. 

“Sure, Kelbob gets hungry.” He leaned back into the room. “You do not want to make it angry.  He gets angry when its hungry.”

The look on his face was beginning to creep me out.  Now I will admit that I am not a big fan of horror films and I certainly had no intention of becoming a character in one, but it seemed that Chadwick Manor had a hungry thing that must be fed and I was not sure I wanted to witness the feeding.

“What does Kelbob eat?” I asked as I trailed close behind as we walked through the dark hallway.

“Anything.” Came the answer from Wes. “He began to eat the walls once, but that nearly brought down the second story.  That’s when I took it upon myself to make sure it was fed.”

“What is it?” I asked with my eyes wide.

“I’m not sure.  That’s why I call Kelbob an it.” He sighed and turned to me, “Hey look, if you don’t feel up to this, you can go back to the room, no hard feelings.”

Call me a coward, but when you put it into terms where despite the “no hard feelings,” you know that there will always be this thing between you and him and in time it will rub like a sore and make you uncomfortable. 

“It’s okay.” I swallowed hard.

“Alright, can’t say I did not warn you.” He grunted as we began to descend down the ornate staircase that led to the foyer.  It was weird seeing the house in darkness knowing that Kelbob was moaning in hunger out there in the dark recesses of the manor.

“Why is it on you to feed Kelbob?” I asked as the moaning seemed to get louder.

“My dad takes medication and my mom drinks herself into a stupor every night.” He paused, “She’s seen Kelbob and she has never been the same.”

I did notice that when we retired to the room for the night, she just sat there in a chair as if someone had pulled the plug on her.  Wes bent over and kissed her on the cheek, but there was no reaction, just this cationic person sitting in a chair.  She was mumbling something unintelligible. 

“Both of them don’t want to have Kelbob ruin their manor.” He said as we walked through the massive industrial kitchen and he stood at the door that led into the basement.  He turned to me and said in a whisper, “There will be no turning back.  Stay here where it’s safer. Once you have seen Kelbob, you will never be the same, that much I can guarantee you.”

He opened the door and instantly the groans filled my ears, they were groans of agony as if all the voices who had suffered a violent ending were collectively screaming out in agony.  

“He is really hungry tonight.  I should not have waited so long.” Wes sounded almost angry as he walked down the stairs.  Unlike the rest of the manor, these steps were made of bare wooden planks and it appeared as if the stairs did not fit in with the rest of the estate.  Suddenly the odor nearly knocked me out as it drifted up from the bowels of the basement.  Forget dead and decaying, this odor was beyond anything I had every encountered before, it was the smell of acid on living matter as if already beginning the raw process of digestion, a chemical reaction changing living matter into an amino acid, peptide bonds that would produce energy to keep on living, but the process created a stench that was unbearable.

“Kelbob!  What have I told you about eating the walls.” He scolded it.

Walls?  The walls were made of solid cement.

“You knew I’d be here to feed you.” Wes still sounded very angry with Kelbob.

More groaning.

“I know you are hungry.” Wes turned on the bare bulb hanging overhead.  In the shadow that was playing with the light, I saw a dark shadow on the floor near where Wes was standing.

More groaning growing in volume.  

I don’t know what made me brave enough to walk down a few of the rickety steps, but when I did I saw it and I put my hand over my mouth to muffle a scream as there in the floor just a few paces from where Wes was standing was an open mouth in the floor.  Surrounding this hideous thing were tentacles that were reaching out, probling, searching for what it was craving, food, nutrition.  If Wes took one careless step forward, it appeared he would be dinner for Kelbob.

He held the box in his hands. “Kelbob, I brought the box of jewels my mother keeps in her safe upstairs.  Is this what you desire?”

The groan seemed to rise up from a level so low that it vibrated through me like an electrical shock.  

“You know how these items are valued.” He took in a deep breath. With a twist of a key, he opened the curio and held a few pieces of jewelry in his hands.  Slowly one of the tentacles rose up and ran over his hand which made me shudder in disgust since the tentacle was slimy and slick to the touch, but when it withdrew, the jewelry was no longer in Wes’ hand. There was a very powerful stench as the jewelry was dropped into the open maw on the basement floor.

“There is more.” Wes held out his father’s watch.  And the same ritual was repeated as Kelbob sent tentacles over Wes’ arm to retrieve the watch. In a very smooth movement once again the watch began to swim in a pool of digestive acid giving off a sickening metallic odor. 

The groaning ceased and much to my amazement the mouth closed and disappeared leaving behind only a small depression in the otherwise smooth cement floor.

“That was Kelbob.” Wes sighed.

“What?” I could not manage to say anything more.

“He came with the house.” Wes closed his eyes. “When Kelbob is hungry he will let you know.”

“You fed him valuables and jewelry.” I could still feel myself shaking.

“According to the legend, Kelbob was the original owner of this mansion.” Wes was also shaking as he climbed the stairs, “It was a curse as I’m sure you must have surmised.” We sat down in the kitchen while Wes brewed some chamomile tea and told the story of Kelbob.

Zacharias Kelbob may have provided Charles Dickens the inspiration of Ebenezer Scrooge, but his temperament was much worse and he immigrated from England and built the manor with his fortune from a holding company he owned.  Therein what is now Maryborough lived a woman in the woods named Desiriah Tullaha who every one knew was a witch.  Many of the citizens tried to catch her in the act, but it seemed no one could catch her practicing the dark arts.  Zacharias decided to woo her and make her do magic for him.  He lavished her with the finest jewelry of the time.  But she was not swayed by his grand gestures and he became angry at her refusal on his advances.  So angry he had his attorney swear out a deposition against Desiriah and she was condemned to be burned at the stake in 1698.  As the flames consumed her mortal body, she screamed out, “A curse on you Zachariah Kelbob that you are a glutton and will eat yourself to death and in your afterlife you will become just an appetite that can never be sated.  Your hunger will be eternal and you will long for that which hunger the most for--wealth and riches like what you once showered on me for my affections.”  The flames overcame her as she screamed before dying.  Before the end of the year, he had a holiday feast where he got a bone caught in his throat and before anyone knew, he had choked to death.  Her curse was true.

“There’s no way to get rid of Kelbob?” I asked, drinking my tea with a shudder.

“This is Chadwick Manor’s secret.  As far as I know the previous owners also had to deal with a hungry spirit whose appetite will never be sated.

Suddenly Wes’ mom came walking into the kitchen, her eyes were as cold as a tombstone and her face lacked any warmth or color.

“Do you need your medicine mother?” Wes reached into a cabinet and placed two tablets in her hand which she swallowed robotically without water. 

“It was Kelbob I heard?” She managed to say.

“Yes mother.” He nodded. “I fed him.” 

“I wish he would develop an appetite for other things.” She sniffed and I realized she had started to cry. “How horrible that thing is.” 

“Yes mother.” He patted her on her ice cold hand. “Did you see Kelbob?”

She was speaking to me and I answered, “Yes I did.”

“Horrible apparition, but Wes takes care of Kelbob.” Her voice was flat.

“Come mother, let me take you to bed.” He grabbed her elbow and walked her to her room.

“Wes, I think I need to go home.” I said as he left the kitchen.

“I understand.” He nodded as they reached the stairs. “Help yourself out.” He pointed to the silent door.

I drove back to my house in the moonless light trying to get the image of Kelbob out of my head. Wesley was right, some secrets are best kept secrets for the sanity, where the thin line between the beautiful and profane can razor thin indeed.