Free The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion by Roger Hayden Page B

she
asked herself in a soft voice. She pointed the flashlight down the
stairs walked down, step by thick, marble step. She reached the
foyer and was met with a series of unpacked boxes all over the
room. The boxes casted shadows against the light which had her on
edge. She couldn’t deny a slight pinch of fear coupled with her
increasing heartrate. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She was
seeing things—figures against shadow that her mind gave life
to.
    She rushed past the stacked boxes and headed
toward the dining room, closing in toward the kitchen. She flicked
on the kitchen light switch in haste. A series of long fluorescent
bulbs from above flickered on, much to her relief. Their new
stainless steel refrigerator hummed in the corner next to the
dishwasher. She approached the fridge with the intent of grabbing a
bottle or two and going back to bed, but the grumbling in her
stomach told her otherwise.
    She swung the fridge open and grabbed two
water bottles from the middle shelf, setting them on the counter.
Inside, the fridge was practically empty. There was half a tuna
salad sandwich Curtis had gotten her from the diner earlier, a loaf
of bread, and some cold cuts. Not wanting to spend too much time in
alone, she grabbed the to-go box and closed the door. Sandwich and
water in hand, she left the kitchen, leaving the light on behind
her.
    As she passed through the dining room, Mary
felt more at ease and less afraid of the bare, looming walls along
her way. She turned the flashlight back on, balancing her sandwich
and drinks and suddenly heard an unmistakable sound coming from the
foyer. She slowed her pace, and listened. It was the familiar
scratching sound from before, coming from another room.
    Rodents , she
thought.
    Pest control had done a sweep of the house
earlier in the day, but their work was far from over. The
scratching ceased and she continued on, when another sound stopped
her dead in her tracks: the faint cry of an infant. She couldn’t
believe it. She had to be dreaming. She slowed again and followed
the sound, past the stair case and toward the rooms on the other
side of the hall.
    The crying grew louder with each step.
Shining her flashlight ahead, she looked down and saw that her
hands were trembling. As she stopped at the first door to her
right, the crying became clearer. There was no door to muffle it.
The sound was coming from the living room. She peeked inside,
waving the flashlight around. The crying stopped. The hairs on the
back of her neck stood up in unison.
    What the hell was it?
    She braved forward and entered the living
room, clutching the bottles of water against her chest. Ahead in
the corner, just beyond the beam of the flashlight, she saw
something small huddled in the corner. It looked small and furry.
Too large to be a rat or a feline. Too small to be human. The cries
resumed. Whatever it thing was, it was most definitely making the
noise.
    She stopped within five feet of the thing
and tried to steady her flashlight. A loud screech from all around
startled her, just as the figure came into view, turning its
gleaming yellow eyes fang-ridden face in her direction, hissing.
She screamed just in time to see the figure scurry off to the other
side of the room, burrowing into a small hole near above the
baseboard.
    The figure had ears, whiskers, and a
stripped tale. She stumbled back, dropping her food and water, and
bolted for the exit. She ran without turning back, vaulting up the
stairs and into the room with adrenaline flowing through her
veins.
    She closed the door and threw her back
against the wall, breathing heavily. “A raccoon…” she said,
exasperated. “A freaking raccoon.”

Chapter Eight
    A New Discovery
     
    Mary woke the next morning still feeling
rattled from the incident before. Curtis had just walked out of the
bathroom in his robe with steamy mist following him as Mary sat up,
agitated. “This house is infested,” she said.
    Curtis stopped and dried his bushy