The Erotic Ghost

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“May I help you?” the man asked, a scowl creasing his face as his gaze raked her from head to toe.

“I-I’m looking—” Her words faltered as the dark figure suddenly separated from the low-hanging shadow. With a trembling hand pressing her mouth, she muffled a gasp. What little light there was exposed merciless lines of age carved into his face. His thin mouth lay in a dry, snake-like twist, his cold, glittering eyes were surrounded by a web of wrinkles, giving him a constant scowl. He appeared to be dressed all in black and the gray pallor of his face was similar to some bloodless creature she’d seen all too often in horror movies.

She recoiled from the sight of this gray, death-like individual, her trembling voice reduced to little more than a whisper. “—for a phone. The bat—” She hesitated, trying to get control of her trembling voice. “The batteries are dead. I wonder if—” Her gaze shifted and she looked past him, the heavy silence and dim lighting inside reminding her of a funeral parlor. “—if I could use the telephone. I had an accident. My car is in a…well, sort of a…it’s difficult to explain. A lightning…” While trying to find the words, her gaze happened to drift up to his face, which was full of frowning uncertainty, as if he were trying to understand a foreign language. She finally gave up and sighed heavily. “Maybe I should talk to—well, whoever owns this place.”

“I am afraid the Master is not receiving at the present time. He is in mourning. Since you do seem to be in something of a fix, perhaps I can be of some assistance.” He stepped back. “Would you like to come in?”

Surprised at his sudden change in tone, she made a hesitant step across the threshold when something happened. She couldn’t tell exactly what it was. A change of some kind seemed to have taken place in the atmosphere. It seemed close, confining, sort of a prim, stiff, genteel kind of feeling.

She looked around at the combination of red walls, dark shining wood, and red carpet covering each step of the wide, formal staircase. It was as if she’d stepped into a different century. Oil lamps were used instead of electric lights, and some strange odor hung in the air, reminding her of her grandmother’s old house.

The elusive fear that had only nudged her before now burst into full bloom, and she turned quickly to leave. To her surprise, the old man she presumed to be a butler was closing the door. She had gotten only a glimpse of the outside, but gone were the rain, the trees, and the vacant road, and in their place was a street that resembled a foggy night in old England.

The house was surrounded by a tall spiked fence, there were old lamp posts that cast circles of golden light along the curbs, and she could see a noisy, wobbling carriage as it slowly made its way along a wet cobblestone street.

My God, what’s going on?

She lunged for the door and tried to open it. When it wouldn’t budge, she turned to the butler. “The door, it seems to be stuck. I think I…”

The man looked at her with worried eyes. “Are you all right?”

She nodded slightly, but she knew she wasn’t all right at all. She couldn’t seem to think. Her mind was muddled, confused. Turning away from the door slowly, she looked up at the strange décor that told her she had somehow landed in a different century.

The room had a kind of hellish elegance—so many leaping flames from so many fireplaces. There were cold spots—hot spots—God-awful heat. Hadn’t these people heard of central heat and air? Electric lights? All at once, the scene before her began to undulate, and her eyes closed. She pressed her hand against her head, trying to fight the dizziness—a dizziness that sent the garish room to spinning. The red color ran together while the fire in the fireplace stretched, making the room resemble a flame-ridden cave. Reaching out for something to hold on to, she shook her head, her mind full of black snakes that coiled and stretched until they obliterated reality. Finally, everything went black, and her weak body crumpled to the floor.

“Oh, my word,” the butler said, looking down at her as if he didn’t quite know what to do. Finally, with desperation nipping at his heels, he shouted toward the back of the mansion for help. A somber looking creature in a gray dress straggled in, her face turning to shock when she saw the woman on the floor.

“Wha’ ‘appn’d, guv’nor?”

“The poor woman was in an accident from what she said, and passed out. I should think that would be obvious. Here, now, help me get her to the couch.” They struggled, getting her into the study and onto the couch. “Put a wet cloth on her head. I will summon the Master.”