Tag: mystery fiction

For years it had been revered as the haunted house that no one dared to enter.  People would cross the street before walking past, grandmothers would encourage you to throw salt over your shoulder if you looked at it long, and black cats steered clear.  So the night that lights appeared on inside, everyone gathered from a safe distance to try and discern who would dare go in.  For weeks the house would shine bright through the night.  During the day, windows and doors stood open allowing it to breath, and once a week trash was left at the curb.  Painters were hired from out of town, since no one local could be paid enough to take the job.  From shabby to classy the house became more and more beautiful, even welcoming.  This went on for a month before the invitations were received.

They appeared in splendid fashion.  Enclosed in beautifully ornate envelopes were invitations that were crafted with fine calligraphy and photos that gave a teasing peek into the mysteries of the “haunted house” now named Uada Estate and Gardens.  A story was crafted that spoke of love and legacy.  A house that was reclaimed by the ancestral heir and restored to its grand beauty, including the unique gardens that had been known for their rare, exotic, and hybrid plants.  They promised to share magic and mystery and their allure was having the inviting affect.  The doors and gates would open to the public on the weekend.  Crowds began to gather, carried on waves of whispers and anticipation.  Those doors would open to a line of visitors finally willing to chance a look inside.

Over the summer people entered the property to explore what was once forbidden to them by fear.  Morning through afternoon the grounds were filled with talk and laughter.  Small kids ran through paths adorned with the most amazing fragrant blooms while their parents watched from porch or patio listening to stories of the family who built the manor.  While the sun was in the sky the property was filled with life, but once dusk fell the guests were escorted out and the gates were shut tight.   By August more than 100 people had been within those gates, but if someone paid attention they would realize that only 84 of them had left.

August was coming to a close when the first of the missing fliers appeared.  In the city they were taped to storefronts, left on windshields, and stuffed in the free coupon fliers at grocery stores.  At first no one made a connection.  Some of the missing people had only been here for a day trip, others were nuisance types that weren’t missed, and some hadn’t been noticed as gone.  It was Mack Findley, a local detective, who first suspected the connection.  He had been scanning through social media posts and found everyone had shared pictures of themselves at the Uada Estate and Gardens.  He had never been himself, but he guessed even the night shots were in this same location. 

Walking the street on which the house stood, Mack began by talking to neighbors.  None of them were familiar with the faces he shared, but they had all been to the estate and gardens.  It was a wonderful place with the most wonderful host.  They spoke of the young woman who gave tours and ran the property as though she had always been a part of their world and was the dearest friend they had ever known.  He was eager to meet her and tour the property in his pursuit of finding answers.  It was an hour before sunset when he made his way up the walk and through the gate entrance.  He passed the last of the day’s guests now leaving, so he was confident he would have uninterrupted time with the patron of the property.  Up large cement stairs he approached massive wooden double doors that had only just been shut to visitors.  He rapped firmly, but respectfully, with his knuckles against the hard surface, then leaned in to listed for the approach of feet on the other side.

Another knock against the door, this time slightly harder, spurred movement within.  He could hear the latch thrown back and the door began to swing inward, opening onto a lavish parlor that was lit by the evening glow of sunset through a far window.  “Hello?” he asked through the opening, just barely popping his head over the threshold.  “I’m Detective Findlay, I’ve come to speak with the owner of the estate.”  There was no answer so he stepped inside and looked around.  Just behind the door a small frail woman was taking deep breaths.  She waived in apology and then began the arduous work of pushing the door back into place.  “Please, allow me.”  Mack took the handle from her and swung the door closed.  “Thank you.”  Her voice was quite but melodious.  If he hadn’t been looking at her he would have expected to see the young woman that neighbors described.

“Madam, I apologize for the late intrusion, but I am inquiring with all residents of the neighborhood after some individuals who have gone missing.  I believe they all toured your property.”  She looked up at him with absolute concern.  “That is such a horrible thing to hear, but I don’t get out much to see people beyond these walls.  I wouldn’t know where they go or what they do when they leave here.”  “I understand that, but I was hoping you might be able to look at some photos, maybe see if you remember them lingering behind or if there were any odd occurrences associated with them while they were here.”  She nodded and lifted a hand to invite him further into the house.  “Let’s take a seat in the sun room.  You can show me your pictures and we’ll enjoy a glass of lemonade.”  He followed her, through the parlor to a door at the back under the staircase that lead to the second floor.  He sat and watched her pour liquid from a crystal decanter into stemmed glasses before she took her own seat across from him.  “Please,” she said reaching out “may I see your photos?”

The array of faces ranged in age, race, and gender.  There was no clear pattern other than the fact that they all had been on a tour of the estate and its gardens.  The old woman brushed a finger gently across the picture of a young smiling girl.  “They all look like lovely people, but unfortunately with the numbers who come through I can’t recall ever meeting them.  Are you sure they were here?”  “I am.  They each had photos on their social media profiles that they tagged at this location.  Any chance they may have lingered behind?”  Mack reflected on the few photos he saw from night visits.  “Maybe they came through during a night tour.”  The woman’s face clouded over, “excuse me?  There are no night tours.  The doors shut and are locked at dusk, no one tours the ground past then.”  Mack was taken aback by the sudden anger in her voice.  “I didn’t mean to offend.”  The woman settled back down a bit.  “Maybe if I could speak with the young woman who leads the tours, she might remember them.”  Now relaxed the woman chuckled.  “You must mean my niece, sweet girl although a little flighty, she leaves with the last tour.  I am sure you passed her on your way up the walk.”  Mack reflected on those he encountered when he arrived, none of whom could have been mistaken for the beautiful woman the neighbors described.

Not wanting to overstay his welcome he ventured one last question “any chance someone might have snuck into the garden after dark?  I noticed some of the fencing was damaged.”  With concern the woman looked out towards the garden.  Her answer was distant but firm.  “I would hope not.  This garden isn’t a kind place after dark.”  She turned back with cold eyes “many of these hybrid plants have unwelcome tendencies for pollination and fertilization.  Come, I’ll walk you back to the door.”

He wanted to ask more questions about the garden but the woman was already up and moving away.  Her speed betrayed her fragile appearance and the door did not give her quite the strain it had before.  She ushered him over the threshold with gentle force and before he could turn and thank her for her time the door was shut.  He stared at the wooden barricade now thrown in his path.  In his gut he knew the answers he sought were here.  As he made his way down the walk and back to the sidewalk he kept reflecting on one of the last things she said “this garden isn’t a kind place after dark.”  What did that mean?  He was just past the damaged part of the fence when he made a split second decision.  Turning back, he slipped past a hanging fence slat and into the garden beyond.  It was darker here.  The sky was now violet as the sun sunk below the horizon and many of the plants reached above his head.  This was his first visit to the garden and he found it overwhelming.  The colors were vivid, even in the dim light of evening, and he was mesmerized by a feeling of being transported to a different world.  Breathing deep he took in the aromas that wafted around him.  The whole experience was making him relaxed and full of joy.  He walked along the paths with his head and eyes swiveling around, taking it all in.  His primary motive was completely forgotten until he got tangled in a low vine and fell to the ground.

On his knees he had a new vantage point and looking around, beneath the foliage, his eyes came to rest on an object that chilled him.  He reached out with his right hand to brush away some of the dirt.  Slowly the mound became a hand, a woman’s hand with a large diamond ring still attached.  He recognized the ring from one of the many missing person’s reports and knew that his search had come to an end.  Staying low he continued to look beneath the plants in this area.  It was getting much darker so he took out his phone to use as a flashlight.  Most of what he saw was expected.  Plant stalks thrust deep into the ground creating a dense forest to peer through, but every now and then the light would grace something that didn’t belong.  The toe of a shoe, a few fingers reaching upward as though the owner had been sucked below, a face staring back with the frozen expressing of a scream cut short.  This last image startled him.  He let out his own muffled cry of horror before getting to his feet.

He didn’t have time to wait for a warrant, he was already here and knew that if he allowed the them time, the bodies would most likely be cleared away.  He fumbled with his phone to call for back up.  As the display came on it was near blinding as night had now fully set in.  He jerked his head away and dropped the phone.  As his eyes regained focus he came face to face with a flower he hadn’t noticed before.  It was slowly opening up before his eyes to reveal an amazing array of colors within.  The head lowered slowly and came to rest as though it was looking directly at him, and then it sprayed.  It was a fine dust of pollen that shot forth and covered his face in a sticky powder like substance.  He stumbled a little and tried to brush it off.  When he realized his attempt was futile he decided to find his phone and make his call.

Looking down he found the ground spinning beneath his feet.  He tried shaking his head but to no avail and rubbing his eyes only made the sensation worse.  Distracted by his distress he didn’t notice the tendrils snaking their way along the path towards him until it was too late.  In one swift motion his legs were pulled from beneath him and he found himself on his back.  The vines that had grabbed at him were twisting tighter and higher until he found himself immobilized from the knees down.  He tried to twist out, but the movement only seemed to tighten the hold they had.  The fear didn’t set in until he realized he was now moving towards the bodies beneath the foliage.  Images ran through his mind of suffocation as he was dragged under the dirt.  He flailed out reach for anything.  Plant stalks broke in his hands as he was pulled along with great force.  His fingernails chipped as he tried to grasp at the ground, and then his salvation was at hand.  A rusty trowel that had been discarded was in his grip.  Using all the core strength he could muster he reached out towards the tendrils around his legs. A quick stabbing motion caused a flurry of activity.  The vines released their hold and pulled back, flailing around in apparent pain.  Mack scurried back trying to catch his breath but his moment of relief was short lived.  The vines reached out again, this time more aggressively.  Mack jumped to his feet and moved backwards as quickly as possible until he was stopped by what he thought was a tree.  He seemed to be out of reach as he stood there trying to catch his breath.  The world was still spinning a bit but he could feel the effects passing.  Thinking back to the words of the old woman he was now believing that his best option would be to wait until daylight.  He’d come back first thing with a team to excavate the garden and expose the bodies of the missing people he sought.  He rested his head back against the trunk giving him support while he closed his eyes allowing the last few waves of dizziness to pass.  When he opened them, it was to a view of the heavens with stars twinkling overhead, such a beautiful sight to end his horrific adventure.  It was the last thing of beauty he saw before the darkness closed in.  His final moments were ushered by the sharp barbed edges of the leaves that closed around him, adding his name to a growing list of missing people.