After the Haunting

I turned of the light in the kitchen, then moved to the end of the hallway, hesitated then turned it out as well.

Silhouetted against the moonlight filtering in from the window of the back door, there stood a tall figure. For a second, all the terror and anguish came back to me in one fatal swoop.

The screaming.

The shouting.  

Lamps being knocked over by invisible hands.

The many nights I spent huddled in terror in my bed wrapped up in blankets as I felt the icy stare of the dark figure watching me.

I closed my eyes and forced my self to stay calm. I opened my eyes again and the figure was still there, its presence emanating the dark, agonizing terror that-

The figure moved into the light from the living room closer to me and I sighed in relief.

Mr. Rufus. Poor Mr. Rufus.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” He said in that scratchy old voice of his. “I know you must still be shaken up after all this.”

I smiled at him. “It's very alright, Mr Rufus. Come sit.”

We moved to the living room. I went to the wet bar and poured my self a drink.

Then I came and sat across from him. He looked comfortable in the big red arm chair.

Then again, this house has been his home

sixty years

longer

than

it

had

been

mine.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I came across this armchair?”

I shook my head, “No, you did not. Then again, we never have had much time to sit and talk, have we?”

“When I was a young man, having jut moved into this house, I lived next door to a beautiful girl named

Lorraine.”

“Did you?” I asked, taking a sip.

“I did. I'd never met such fox in my life. She had it all;

looks,

class,

personality.

I wanted her more than anything.”

“So what did you do?”

“I took her out on a date.”

He paused.

Outside, it became darker.

“And?” I asked, intrigued.

“I didn't go well. I spilled a drink on her.”

“Oh? That must have been so embarrassing!” I giggled.

He scowled. The deep lines on his face reminded me,

unwillingly,

of the creatures fingers.

I repressed the urge to

shudder. 

“It was. After that she started seeing this brute named James. He was such a lug, and didn't treat her so well, either. One day she shows up at my door with a

black

eye.”

“Oh, my.”

“Yes she said she wanted me to take a red arm chair for her.”

“This chair?”

“Yes.”

“She said that James didn't like the chair to much, and it was a prized family heirloom, and she couldn't bear to part with it.”

“So...you took it?”

“Of course I did. I was half in love with the broad.”

He developed a look of bitterness, 

his long fingers started to twitch. I 

fidgeted. 

“Then what happened?”

“One night, weeks later I was sleeping, when I hear a sound down stairs. I grab my baseball bat and head down stairs. I'm thinking, it's James, and he's gonna find the chair and kill me. And in this very living room, I turn on the lights and find Loraine tearing at my

chair

with

a

knife.”

“I figured this story would have something to do with the stitches on the sides.” I said and took another drink.

I looked at them and

shuddered,

only few days ago, I witnessed a pair of long, spindly fingers emerge from the stitches.

The same fingers that

knocked over the lamps and

pulled Daniel's hair.

“Yes, and guess what she tells me? She stashed some cash in there that she was using to get away from James. She was all packed up and ready to leave, while he was away at the saloon.”

“Oh, that's so sad. Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you

loved

her?”

“Of course I didn't. I couldn't bear too. I gave her some extra money, called her a cab, and wished her luck. She said I could keep the arm chair.”

“Did you ever see her again?”

“Yeah, forty years later.”

“Where?”

“In the paper when I read her obituary.”

he smiled, as if he was haboring some sacredd knowlede. 

I smiled back, nervously. 

I stayed silent for a moment and thought.

“That was a nice story, albeit a little sad.”

“Yeah..” he said and looked around the room. “I've go to say, I like the way you've decorated the house, much more stylish than the way I did it.”

“Well the landlady gave me a good price for the place. I had some extra money for the interior decorating.”

“Well, we both know why the price was so low.” he chuckled.

I swallowed hard.

“So, where did it happen?”

He looked confused for a moment, then gradually under stood my meaning,

“Oh that. Well, I went the way most people hope they do, peacefully in my sleep, right in this very armchair.”

I gasped in disbelief,

“Really?”

He nodded.

“This chair really has some history, doesn't it?”

He nodded again, “It's funny, because as I went I was thinking of Lorraine, of the way her eyes

sparkled

when she smiled.”

“Do you think you'l find her in...whatever comes after?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you pass.”

“Pass?”

“Well, yeah, you have to do it some time. Remember what the priest said. Now that the

creature is

no longer

keeping

it's

hold

on you, you can leave as soon as you ready.”

He looked suspicious,

“Right, well, I don't know about that.”

“It'll come when you ready.”

“I've been here so long, it's hard to imagine leaving.”

“I'll bet they have an exact replica of this house in heaven, with Lorraine waiting at the door for you.”

He chuckled, but there was

no mirth

in his face.

“Heaven? I don't think I'm a heaven man.”

I started to get that cold feeling in the back of my neck that I knew so well.

I swallowed hard.

He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes.

“Really? Well I-um..”

“Do you want to get rid of me?”

“What?” I said,

the cold feeling persisting.

“Do you want to kick me out of my own home?

Is that it?”

“No, but, you have to pass on don't you?”

“Is that so...”

he looked at me with cold hostility.

I looked down at my drink, almost empty.

I went to the bar again and poured more.

Then,

without looking back I said, “Mr. Rufus?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“There still one thing I don't understand.”

“What's that?”

“When we first made contact with you. You said

'I like to hear them scream'.

At that point, the creature didn't have full control over you yet, so you must have been speaking on you own behalf.”

“I must have.”

“What did you mean by that?”

No response.

“Mr.Rufus?”

I turned around.

No one was there.