Tales from the Beaumont House (Supernatural short stories)

Tales from

The Beaumont House

D.F. Holland

Tales from The Beaumont House

© 2014 D.F. Holland

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRO

MOONGLOW (Apt. 7B)

AWAKEN TO THE NIGHTMARE (Apt. 4E)

GATHERING OF SOULS (Apt. 17D)

THE 1940’s (Apt. 6C)

CYBERSPACE (Apt. 11B)

HEIR TO A NEW WORLD (Apt. 11A)

OUTRO

INTRO

The beautiful Beaumont House apartment complex was an old, well-maintained group of Tudor buildings on a large stretch of land. It was a sprawling apartment complex with jewel-colored, freshly-cut grass. There were old, tall shady trees interspersed within the landscape, making it look like a picture postcard.

Seasonal flowers were always planted in circles around the trees, in the pathways and around the perimeter of each of the Tudor buildings adding a touch of delicate color, like lace on a beautiful dress.

The grounds had small hills which looked beautiful all year round. In the winter the children would sled down them, screaming and laughing. The apartments themselves were well cared for inside and out, from top to bottom. Despite its age the apartment complex looked brand new. The Beaumont House was located in a sleepy suburb thirty-five minutes from the city. It was it an ideal place to live for those who worked in the city.

The first smaller building was the rental office. This was where people inquired about rentals or apartments to purchase. There was often a waiting list as the apartment complex was not only pleasing to the eye, but was one of the few pet-friendly apartments in the area.

There was an elderly gentleman who had worked in the rental office for many decades. There wasn’t a tenant who could recall a time when he was not there. He could remember the names and faces of the many people and families who had lived there throughout the decades as well as details about their lives. The old man was extremely thin and pale with a strange twinkle in his eye. What little white hair he had left was standing up in every direction. His suit was sharp and well-pressed but seemed to be from another century. The office had wall to wall bookshelves filled with mostly very old leather-bound books. The old man would often read, sit at his desk and look at his old-fashioned pocket watch.

Sometimes he looked out of the windows to watch the goings-on. People moving in or out, dogs being walked, children playing, residents sitting on their porches, driving to work, walking along the scenic paths and sitting under the large shady trees. The birds were singing, the neighbors were friendly and the lawns were always well-manicured. It was a very nice place to live. An ideal place, or so they thought.

MOONGLOW

The spirit had been resigned to eternal loneliness. He had been cursed to remain on a particular area of land to roam for all of time as an apparition, alone. He attempted to communicate with people but rarely did anyone sense his presence. When they did, they were often frightened of the feeling and would shut themselves off from him. He watched the beautiful, natural landscape begin to fill over time as people began to build. Eventually the Beaumont House apartments were built which covered the entire area that he was condemned to. At first he resented the disruption but soon found that he could learn from the residents who lived there.

The spirit tried not to allow his thoughts to wander into the past but it was impossible. The memories haunted him just as he haunted this land endlessly. He had been a mortal in the 1700’s and had been an average man of his time. One ordinary day he witnessed a woman from afar performing some kind of ritual. He was not aware that he was witnessing witchcraft. The woman spoke in a language unlike any other he had heard, and he had heard many. She motioned with her hands and her body seemed to contort in an inhuman manner. The trees around her swayed in the wind which appeared to only surround the area in which she was standing. She stopped as if she felt his eyes upon her and indeed she did. She turned and warned him that if he spoke of her witchery that he would pay the ultimate price. At that time he did not believe in witchcraft so he did tell others, which was his fatal error.

The people believed him and proceeded to bring her to trial. Eventually they burned her to death in the very field where he now roamed. She spoke wildly and in a high-pitched tone as she burned about the great punishment which would come upon each person responsible for her physical death. Her spells were formidable. Just after the burning, one by one, each person involved in the trial passed away mysteriously; slowly and painfully. But their punishment was only beginning in death. It was in the afterlife that her spells took hold, as he was to find out. He did not know exactly what caused his passing, only that he was extremely hot with a very high fever. He later attributed this symptom, or punishment, to the witch’s burning. He could not go towards the light as his body expired. He could not reach the other side. He had been cursed to remain on the land in which her life was taken. Never to arrive in Heaven or Hell but to remain in an abyss, unseen and unheard for all of eternity.

The spirit had the ability to go in and out of the apartments as he wished, undetected. He had been in spirit form for so long that he barely remembered what it was like to be a flesh and blood human being. He remembered having the name Nathaniel while he lived but he hadn’t heard his name spoken since. Now, no one knew of him so he had no need for a name. His thoughts often fatigued him. They were hopeless, dreadful and all his own with no one to share them with. Not that anyone would necessarily want to hear them. There was no comfort available from any source.

He learned to keep track of time by visiting the tenants of the Beaumont House apartments. He could listen to their radios to keep informed of the changing times and the changing ways of humankind. They did not see or sense him.

He wondered why he craved human contact since he was no longer living, no longer human.

Time passed. The weeks, months and years blended together in a blur of darkness and doom for the spirit. He was often with people but was never acknowledged. He often wondered how long he could withstand the isolation before going mad. Why hadn’t he already gone mad? He would often moan and scream out in anguish, releasing his emotional pain but no one heard him. He discovered that he could read people’s thoughts although this usually bored him. He discovered that with much effort he could open and close doors. He could also open and close windows. People noticed this and wondered about it but he quickly became disinterested. Performing tricks for amusement was beneath him.

He found that sometimes he could implant a thought in a person’s mind and they would think it was their own. He could only penetrate the minds of a few for a short period of time. He experimented with this until he grew tired of it. The spirit realized that what he needed was a way out, an escape. He wished to free himself of this place, of this curse, and regain some kind of form. A body in which to live freely, as he once did.

He tried harder to communicate with the residents but the best he could do was to create a chilled breeze that would brush past a tenant. He wandered the halls and apartments in despair. He walked the grounds in the pouring rain and freezing cold, oblivious, and unable to feel any of it. How long must I endure this eternal damnation? he wondered.

He saw people moving in and out of their apartments often. He wondered if anyone could help him, if such a person existed. Many years passed and he witnessed technology advancing. People watched televisions then used computers, phones, tablets and other devices. He thought that perhaps his escape would somehow lie within this technology. He waited patiently while apartment 7B was painted and prepared for its new tenant. He watched and saw the young male tenant bringing in boxes of belongings. Many of his belongings were computers, computer parts and what the spirit heard referred to as programs.

The spirit was extremely interested in the new tenant because he had sensed his presence. While bringing in boxes the tenant stopped in his tracks and felt the spirit in the room with him. The young man put the boxes down and searched the apartment, of course finding no one. The spirit felt something he had not felt for centuries – hope. This hope allowed him to feel longing. A longing for a bearable existence and a longing to live. He implanted a few thoughts into the tenant’s mind and the tenant, named Shane, received them immediately and easily. The situation was promising indeed.

The programmer:

The moon glowing behind the Beaumont House apartments gave it a horror film feel. Horror films were familiar to Shane, so it probably appealed to him when he decided to take the place, his first apartment. Shane was parked in his car that evening looking up at the huge buildings lit from behind by moonlight.

You’ve heard all the rumors about this place, haven’t you? asked his friend Joe on the phone.

It doesn’t bother me. Maybe it will inspire me. I have that vampire game to finish by the deadline.

I can’t wait to test it out in beta.

Thanks. I have to bring some boxes upstairs and find the super. Talk to you later.

The super was a nervous, older man who looked like he’d seen a few ghosts in his time. I have all the keys for you right here, the super said as he handed him an envelope with several keys inside. He took Shane upstairs down an unusually dark corridor to the empty apartment’s door. So, are all the rumors true about this place being haunted? he asked. Shane turned around but the super had gone. No sound of footsteps – just gone, muttered Shane to himself. Some welcoming, he thought as he brought in the boxes. He later collapsed onto his bed which was the only piece of furniture in the place.

The shadeless windows were letting the moonlight in, bathing the bare rooms in blue light. Shane woke up groggily at 2:45 AM thinking that he heard someone speaking softly. He listened closely. It sounded like whispering and the sound of faint music from long ago. Shane was too tired to get up and investigate. The spirit whispered, Give me form. Shane decided to remain perfectly still pretending that he was asleep. Who am I pretending for? he wondered. Another whisper, Create me. He remained still until he was sleeping again, until the rooms changed from blue to