Horror Fiction by Scott Rossi 

This tale is about a haunted occurrence pertaining to a woman whose son died two years ago to this day, May 12, 1978. She was no different than any other woman at the ripe old age of 79. The course of her remaining years were forever altered, a year ago, from where she would have lived out her years with little surprise of what life had in store for her. Life would be as predictable as they go from where she stood. I should correct myself on the preceding line, ‘from where she sat’. She was wheelchair bound.

             Emily Robinson was a happy-go-lucky woman who had lived a full life and had many memories to reminisce over. She was the last of three sisters and had no other family save for her son, Harry Robinson. She had been urging her son for some time to, ‘Go out there and find someone nice to settle down with, and give me a grandson to carry on the family name, and to give me someone to watch over and spend time with.’ Of course after much pleading and her desire for him to stop running around with the ‘floozies’ he’d been keeping company with, he did not find the need to settle down.  

Much sadness had been brought unceremoniously into her life, and her dreams were mercilessly thrown aside when her son Harry’s life was cut short on May 12, 1976.  He had the tragic fate of having an important work document slip out of his brief case and into the street from where he awaited his bus to take him to work. He dashed out to catch it, seeing his bus slow down as it neared his stop less than a block away. Little did he know of what awaited him to the left of the bus. Bike messengers in Manhattan or other big cities refer to public transportation as, ‘the wall’, which they use as a safety block to ride beside in-between traffic.

For Harry that day, such a thing was speeding ever faster in his direction, only instead of a bike messenger, it was a blue Nissan. That day fate had it that Harry and the blue Nissan were to meet up that day. He was pronounced dead upon arrival of the Paramedics. 

Flashback to Friday May 13, 1977. A day unlike any other if not for being the day after the anniversary of Emily’s son death, and the superstition wrapped around such a day, Friday the 13^th. Are we truly affected by unseen forces on such a day? Are the only people affected this day, only those who give credence and power to such suspicions?  Who’s to say? Emily Robinson was not such a person. Though she did have her rosary neatly kept in a jewelry box by her holy cards of Christian Saints, she did not believe in superstitions. Such a case left little evidence as to what had caused such a horror to occur. 

                “Veronica, I need a glass of OJ please!” shouted Emily. 

                “Alright, Em, I’ll be right there,” she replied. 

            Veronica Torrosa was Emily’s minder, her in-house nurse. That day she was in the midst’s of watching her favorite television show, People’s Court. Emily was in the dining room parallel to the family room, looking over old photo albums. 

                “Ronica, honey, I’m still waiting.” 

            “Okay, Emily, I’m getting it now,” she said. 

            Veronica had a lot on her mind that day. At the time it was about 11:12 and she was awaiting a delivery to the house. The previous morning she had placed a call to ‘Francine’s Health Management,’ an outlet store which dealt in healthcare products. Emily had been complaining for some time about her old wheelchair which if not dealt with soon would most assuredly imploded into bits and pieces with dust being the only reminder of it’s existence. Veronica finally had to break down and purchase a new one. 

Francine’s was a place she purchased other products from over the past four years. The last time was a year ago. The delivery of the new wheelchair was to arrive by noon.  

            There was a knock at the door followed by a ring of the doorbell. It was the delivery man. He stood just under 5 foot seven with dark brown sideburns peeking out from below his brown UPS baseball cap. His brown truck was parked outside and Veronica greeted him and signed his clipboard.  

“Okay that’ll be $240 even,” he said.  

“Do you except checks?” 

            “We do, but we’d rather it be paid in cash.” 

            “Alright hold on a second, I’ll be right back.” 

            “That’s fine. I’ll just get your purchase from the back of the truck.” 

            Veronica went back inside to get her wallet and also to tell Emily that her long awaited semi-new wheelchair had arrived.  

            The UPS guy brought it inside and after he left they opened it. There were lots of Styrofoam popcorn and some newspaper that hid the wheelchair from sight. When they finally got to the wheel chair, Veronica cut one side of the box and then she wheeled it out onto the rug to show Emily. It looked as though the wheels were new, by the lack of rust, the silver sheen from the chrome and by the condition of the tires, which had no sign of wear and tear. 

            “Just what you’ve been waiting for, Emily, and it’s all yours.” 

“Oh, Ronica, you’re such a doll.” 

“Well let’s try it out, shall we?” 

“Sure.” 

Emily pulled her old wheelchair beside her new ride and Veronica stood in front of the both of them to help Em into her new chair.

“How’s that?” 

She wheeled herself back and forth. “Great! The wheel on the right side doesn’t stick like my old chair.” 

“So you like it then?” asked Veronica. 

“Like it? I love it!” replied an enthusiastic Emily. 

Veronica went behind her new chair and began to rummage through the knapsack on the back of the chair. There were three pockets on the bag and out of one pocket she pulled out a four by eight orange card. 

“Thank you for buying your purchase from Lu Ann’s Enchanted Boutique.  Lu Ann’s Enchanted Boutique? That’s odd, who’s Lu Ann?” 

This card struck her as peculiar, when she talked to the woman on the telephone to place her order, the woman never even picked up with a ‘Hello, this is Lu Ann’s Enchanted Boutique. How can I help you?’ It was just a, ‘Hi, how can I help you?’ She seemed as though she was in a hurry and preoccupied with business or something. Veronica answered with a question, “Hi, is this 1641 Hamlin Street?” And the woman answered, “Sure is.” 

Veronica did indeed order a wheelchair and a wheel chair was delivered. She thought nothing more of it, and let it go at that. Emily spent the remainder of the day watching television with Veronica. Later after dinner they went for a wheel through the park. Afterwards they watched TV and ate pie and popcorn before going off to bed. 

“Get ready for bed Emily, I’m going out into the kitchen to put the dishes into the dishwasher, be ready by time I get back.” 

“Alright hon.” 

Veronica brought their plates into the kitchen. Emily felt around behind her, reached back and slid the bag off the handles of the chair. She looked inside it with wonder. As she looked within the bag she came upon a zipper that went across the inside of it. She unzipped the bag to find a leather string with something attached to it, and struggled to get it out when it finally gave way. 

It was some sort of amulet. It had a woman engraved upon it in throw position ready to heave the spear in her left hand. With the suspense and curiosity of what it was she had just found, Emily placed it around her neck and looked down to see the amulet that lay on her chest. She gave a smile looking at her new piece of beautiful jewelry. 

Meanwhile there was some noise in the kitchen and finally the sound of the dishwasher being turned on. Veronica made her way to the dining room.  

            Emily gave a weird smile in Veronica’s direction. 

Veronica looked at the amulet that Emily had around her neck. She bent down to take a closer look at it and was about to take it in her hand. 

“Where did you find that Em?” 

Emily just gave her such a strange look of unfamiliarity. 

“Okay Emily it’s time to go to bed, it’s after ten, past your bed time.” 

“Okay Hon, it’s time to tell the secret……………”  

“Tell the secret! Tell the secret!! Tell the secret!! Tell the secret!!!!!!……….. 

Aaarrrrrggghhhhh……krrrpphhhthhhhddddd………uuuuhhhhhhh………...thudd!!!!!!

Oooohhh, I like that feeling. I finally know what it’s like to be alive again.” 

Something happened that night that even now with time having passed, all the facts have yet to be brought out. 

Time went by, and months went by until finally a year had gone by to the day of May 12 1978, the day before the anniversary of the death of Emily’s son. Not a soul had seen Emily or Veronica all year. 

Emily’s house had long since devolved into the dilapidated condition it had now become. The gardener who Emily had paid for the upkeep of her garden and yard, had long since stopped dropping by. The bushes and trees were now overgrown with foliage and part of the right side of the yard seemed to be hidden from sight. Nothing, but greenery all around. There were even a few broken windows made by kids who threw rocks at the house when they found they had nothing better to do with their time. Stories quickly began to circulate about the ‘former owners of the house’. And the house was even given a nickname, “Mad Emily’s House.” If one were to walk by they would have made a remark like, ‘Wow guess these people don’t like to take pride in their yard.’ And one couldn’t blame them for saying such.  

On this day around noon there are six kids ages 10 to 12 years of age on Emily’s yard sitting in a circle on her grass. 

“Oh, come on. Are trying to tell us you’re chicken?”

“Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!!” taunted the boys. 

“I’m not a chicken!!” screamed little Chris.

 “Alright then, prove it. Stay the night there if you’re not chicken. Stay there from 9 at night, till nine in the morning. We’ll even send Jeff and Steve to check on you at 11’o clock just to make sure little Chrissy’s alright. And also to make sure you haven’t chickened out and run home to your mommy.” 

“Fine!” answered Chris. 

What else could he say? They challenged his manhood, and at the age of twelve how could he chicken out? The story would follow him on his way back to school in September. How could any kid live with that? And so he did.  

He went home for dinner of course before returning to old Mad Emily’s House. He told his parents that he was staying over Vinny Matteo’s house, which under no condition would he even think about doing, but it gave him his alibi. He told his parents he didn’t have Vinny’s number, but he knew where his house was and would call them once he got there. He did call from Vinny’s house and quickly ended the conversation by saying the boys were going to watch a movie on television. The boys minus Chad Jones who couldn’t get out because of his ‘early’ curfew went over to ‘Mad Emily’s House’.  

“Alright Chris, good luck, let’s go fellas.” Quickly they left Chris in a lurch and disappeared down the street just as fast. 

“No, wait guys!” protested Chris. 

“Don’t worry ‘Chicken,’ Jeff and Steve will come back to check on you!” said  Vinny as he and the other boys sped away on foot. 

It was 8:00 o’clock. Against better judgment, and for the next three hours Chris went about in search of whatever it was that supposedly made this house special. If the outside of the house left much to be desired, then the inside failed to compensate. There were layers of dust and sediment. It was dusky and not well lit at all. It was obvious that the electric bill hadn’t been paid in some time. None of the light switches worked. 

There was however this dim red glow apparently coming from beneath the basement door. This seemed to be a sign to Chris to leave well enough alone. All Chris had to navigate the dark house was his Dad’s flashlight. He concealed it in his backpack just in case Vinny decided to make up a rule of, ‘No flashlights allowed’. 

“There’s nothing to this house,” spoke Chris aloud to himself. “It’s all a big dumb story.”  “I’ve been through the bedroom, and nothing but a dusty made bed. I’ve been in the kitchen and opened the screen door to let some air into the house and I’ve even gone into the bathrooms. Nothing…..anywhere.” 

From then Chris decided to sleep with his flashlight for safety. He would flick the on and off switch in intervals of every ten minutes to conserve batteries.             He heard a sound outside of people laughing, hopefully it was Jeff and Steve. The door opened. Just like clockwork. 

            “Hey Chris c’mon we’re not planning on staying! Where are you?” yelled Steve. 

            “Steve, over here,” said Chris. Chris was laying on the rug to the left of the open door.  

“So? How is it? Meet the ghost yet?” 

“Ghost? What are you talking about?” 

“Oh, come on, you’re telling us you haven’t heard about old Emily?” 

“No…..I….” 

“She died in here, a year ago tomorrow.” 

“Really? You’re not just pulling my leg are you?” 

“We’re friends right?” 

“Yeah, sometimes. No, oh course we are.” 

“Well we just wanted to warn you that’s all. Anyway, good luck we’re out of here.” 

Great, just what Chris needed. He already checked most of the rooms, how could this ghost business possibly be? Chris decided to just sleep the rest of the night and not make a sound so that maybe the ghost, if there really was one would just pass over him.  

Pretty brave for this boy. He slept the rest of the night and awoke at 6 a.m., the next morning. He took the throw rug from in front of the door and wiped the thick layers of dust off the front window. It was too thick to get it really clear but a weak ray of light shone through to the basement door. The sun was just rising and east was directly facing the front of the house.  

Soon enough there would be enough light to fill most of the 1^st floor. He decided, out of curiosity, that now would be a good time to head for the basement. The red glow seemed to call out to him. ‘You don’t know what I am. Come see what I am. If you have any care at all.’ Chris did have a care, he didn’t know why. All he had to do was to just wait two more hours and he could leave. Then no one could call him a Chicken. He wanted to be sure that there was truly nothing to be afraid of, for his own sanity. The only way was to see what it was that created that red glow. 

He walked towards the basement door with caution, slowly making his way to it. He creaked open the door and began his descent down to the basement. He quickly took notice of the origin of the red glow, which now looked more like a red beam emanating from a lighthouse facing the far corner of the room. He neared closer. 

It was then that the beam began to move counter clockwise. This sent shivers down Chris’s spine. He began to back away and now held his hand on top of the post connected to the bottom of the railing.  

“Hello? What are you?” 

Chris wasn’t aware of what it was he was addressing, but he began to think it was supernatural. 

“Hello,……………………. Tell the secret. Tell the secret!! Tell the secret!! Tell the Secret!! Tell the Secret!!!” 

Needless to say, Chris was halfway up the stairs. He felt a pull on the back of his backpack. It had reached from behind and gave a sharp tug on Chris’s bag.  “Noooooooooo!!!” yelped Chris. 

He turned to look back, but in retrospect he would come to regret it. It was what seemed to give sustenance to the story. It seemed to be her, the ‘Emily’ he had heard about. Only it was a woman with white hair all mussed up and the source of the red beam was made clear for the first time. Her veiny blood shot eyes seemed to fire out focused beams of light ahead of her. The skin around her eyes were grayish with extreme wrinkles and blood stains on her shirt. She forced the corners of her wrinkled mouth to form her strange smile. 

Chris pulled away with all his might and finally was released free. He did not look back after that, not even for a second. He had learned his lesson.

She seemed to be empowered by the amulet around her neck. She climbed the basement steps with her arms crossing each other making fast motion hand holds on the railing one arm over the other, with the strength of her possessed wrists and arms.  

Finally she gave out a screeching sound from the bowels of her body. 

“Tell the secret! Tell the secret!! Tell the secret!!!!………………Tell the seeeecccrrreeettt!!!!!!”

‘Tell the secret?’ No matter that she needed to know what the secret was, Chris wouldn’t have turned around to answer her if she requested, “Tell me what time it is!” He saw her glassy red veiny eyes glaring up at him and no way he was going to turn around. 

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!” screamed Chris as close to hitting the C note as humanly possible for a kid his age. He had never been as scared in his life and he reacted the only way he knew possible, run as fast as you can and get the hell out of there. 

He ran to the front door and something was wrong, the door wouldn’t open. He didn’t know if maybe in his struggle to get out that maybe he just didn’t turn the knob the right way or what. He turned around, looked to his left at the old woman staring back at him with this insane smile, and headed towards the back of the house. He saw that the screen door was slightly ajar and with all his might, and leaning with his left shoulder like a linebacker heading for the end zone, crashed through the door forcing it open with all his might. With all the speed his twelve-year old legs could muster he darted towards the woods through the back of the overgrown backyard and two feet high weeds and disappeared into an opening in the woods with the last audible sound to be heard from him was this, “Noooooooo………Mom I’m coming home open up the door!!!!!” 

He reached the safety of his home and ran into the arms of his mother who, having the job of teacher, was off for the summer. Chris would never forget the events that unfolded in the basement that May nor would he ever forgive Vinny Matteo for putting him in such circumstances.

On this day the truth was closer to being brought out into the light, thanks to the actions of Chris and his friends. The inspector who reached that house just after 11 a.m. came face to face with what seemed to have no explanation. A full skeleton frame of a woman who was lying face down on her carpet with a piece of shiny jewelry two feet in front of her on the floor. It was the amulet. Apparently it was flung forward after the wheels of her chair got caught the wheel chair got caught up, by bunched up carpet. To the right of the remains was an old wheelchair thick with cobwebs and dust bunnies between its spokes.  

After much detective work the Inspector found the orange card originally found by Veronica and traced the amulet back to Lu Ann’s Enchanted Boutique. Lu Ann did the rest. The amulet was traced back to the Egyptian times. Apparently the engraving of the woman with the spear was etched in after the original owner had died in battle. This was unusual for a woman to be on battlefield, and unheard of. But she died on a battlefield, hence the engraving. This was a woman on a journey to retrieve her son who was kidnapped from her village. She was by then infertile, and could not have another son for her husband to carry on his name. Her husband was already a soldier called into this specific battle. The woman came upon the supposed culprit who kidnapped her son. The ‘culprit’ said she would only get her son back alive if she could guess the secret for the cause of this battle that was waged. After much thought she guessed wrong and someone had ambushed her from a six-foot cliff behind her and knifed her in the back.  

As legend has it, the woman’s soul leapt into the amulet that was around her neck. She could not bear the fact that she had not guessed, ‘the secret’ needed to save her son.

The sad fact is there was no easy answer, hence the answer being a secret. The reason this battle was waged was that a relative of the woman had disgraced himself for impregnating the emperor’s Queen. At the very least disgraceful, at the worst, something liable to get put to death over, but he had run for his life and was never seen again, and the woman on the amulet was caught unawares. Such was her fate. 

Sadly, Veronica Torrosa was also caught unaware. She had ordered Emily’s wheelchair and they had delivered it, but the store she had purchase it from was not ‘Francine’s Health Management’. Unaware to Veronica, six months previous they had moved two blocks down from their original location. The store she made her purchase from, though located at 1641 Hamlin Street and answered to the 321-555-6872 phone number given in the phone directory was anything, but Francine’s Health Management’.  

The directory through which she scanned with her index finger was two months from expiring, and  ‘Francine’s Health Management’, Veronica did not reach. What she had contacted was something else all together. This place did indeed have a wheelchair in their inventory, but this was no ordinary wheelchair. The chair she had purchased was bought from ‘Lu Ann’s Enchanted Boutique. Though they made no claims that their products were enchanted or haunted, they did claim they were purchased by people who claimed they were enchanted or haunted, and by people who claimed they were removed from enchanted and haunted places. Such are the things of chance. 

The End

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