A Short Walk for a Promo pt. 1

(A short story from the Specter Files)

(Author’s Note: Deadlines. The most terrifying word for an author - this author specifically. I’d planned to release this on Halloween. But here it is instead. This takes place in the week before The Specters of Mammoth Cave, and is a different perspective on a scene witnessed second hand in the book.)

Outside Earthworks and Flameware, in the brick ally known as Chemists Way:

“Keep the lights down.” Klaus ordered. “I want the moon in the background.” He flourished his trench coat. With that sweeping gesture he pointed through up into the night sky. The nearly full moon hung above the hilly Cincinnati skyline beyond the river. It was partially obscured, casting a dim rainbow halo through low hanging rainclouds. Although the rain had passed, the brick alley in which he stood, was still wet, reflecting nearby streetlights. “We need the perfect spooky atmosphere.”

“Do you think that anyone will even notice?” Clancy asked. He was crouched next to the fog machine they had rented for the shoot. “We’ll have enough activity in the foreground, and you are standing beside someone who absolutely captivates the camera.”

“Thanks, dear.” Sheryl finished applying a shade of lipstick which matched her newly dyed hair and blew a kiss towards her husband. She tossed her fedora to him. “Let’s try this without the hat, I don’t want to shade my face.” Her voice dropped, and she repeated the line in the lower, huskier, voice she used on screen. “I don’t want to shade my face.”

“Maybe I should go without a hat too.” Klaus adjusted a stray beard hair, before reaching up to his head.

“No.” Clancy replied quickly. “Leave it on. We’ve done too many of these for you to swap up your uniform now. Besides, you still need a haircut.”

“Don’t worry.” Mark had been setting up a tri-pod at the entrance to the alley, “I’ll keep Camera One trained on your pretty face. You’ll be plenty well lit.”

“Thanks, Mark.” Klaus nodded. “I guess. Are we ready to go?” He asked the last member of their crew.

“A Spooky Occurrence.” Cody was leaning next to the fire escape reading a newspaper out of Southern Kentucky. “Who writes this stuff? I could have come up with a better title.” Cody continued to read, “A tour in Mammoth Cave came to an early halt when it was interupted by a bone-chilling apparition in. An earie, seemingly bloody, secretion began to drip from the walls causing the N.P.S. Guide to cut the tour short.’ Why don’t they just say blood? Why do they have to say seemingly bloody secretions?”

“I don’t know.” Klaus continued to adjust his beard. “I kind of like Spooky Occurrence, maybe I’ll throw that into out script.”

“Do whatever you want.” Clancy stood up, giving the fog machine a gentle kick. A heavy gray smoke began to spill out of the front. “But we’ve only got enough dry ice for two or three run-throughs. Any more and we’ll have buy more.”

Klaus replied. “We need to do this right. Spare no expense.” It was why they had driven across the river for the perfect shooting location. Why they had rented a fog machine for their announcement video. “We only get one shot at turning this into a full-time gig.”

“Spare no expense is something people say after they’ve made money or gotten the TV contract. Not something they say about an announcement video before they take a month off to chase ghosts. We’re basically jobless. If we cant turn this full-time hobby into a career, you’re going to regret dipping so heavily into our reserve funds.” Clancy crossed his arms.

“But look at our luck!” Klaus ignored his brother’s chastising tone. “We take a month off, and the perfect haunting falls into our lap! The walls of Mammoth Cave are Bleeding! If we can get that on camera, someone will buy our pitch for sure! The walls of Mammoth Cave are Bleeding.” He repeated that line with several different inflections. “Oh, that’s a good one!”

Fog was beginning to fill the little alleyway. “Are we ready to shoot?” Mark asked. “Who’s taking Camera Two?” He pointed up empty balcony of the second-floor fire escape. “If we’re doing this right, we want a camera up there.” Then he turned to Cody.

“Don’t look at me.” Cody held up a tablet. “I’m still researching the ghost we may run into in Mammoth Cave. Why don’t you take that one?”

Mark shook his head. “I’m not so good with heights. And there’s no way I’m going in there. “ He pointed to the brick wall, which held the fire escape. It was attached to a house turned shop known as Earthworks and Flameware. The shop was a famous haunted location in Northern Kentucky. “You all promised I wouldn’t have to go through any more haunted locations alone after that Hospital in Louisiana.” He eyed the brick building to the right. The only reason that the Specter Detectors knew about this shooting location was because that building was the site of one of their strongest hauntings, and their first viral ghost hunting video.

“I’ll do it.” Clancy volunteered. “I need practice with the camera anyway. Besides—” he held up a key ring, “—I have the key.” He turned his back on the alley and headed for the front door. Although it was built like home, albeit a large one, Earthworks and Flameware was a commercial establishment with wide windows and an illuminated sign over the front doors. However, as a business, the owners were long gone for the night and the interior was dark.

Walking up the front steps, Clancy peered through the display window before opening the front door. The first room on the first floor was a display for pottery and glassware. The workshops and hotshops had been moved out of town after an accident more than a century ago. At the time, ownership had been transferred to the closest surviving relatives of the original owners, who learned their lessons from couple who had died. The new owners had chosen to not to restore the workshop in the backyard overlooking river.

Some suggested that the accident was the start of the curse, others suggested it was this choice which angered the dead couple. Either way, whispers soon began that the spirits of the Potter and Glassblower began to haunt the property. And their ghost, rumored to be pale figures burnt and torn, were just the first to appear..

Inside, Clancy could see stacks of bowls, plates and cups, rows of vases and decorative jars, and a wide array of more fanciful objects displayed across shelves and countertops. He opened the door gently so he didn’t set off the bell which would alert anyone inside. He and Clancy were good friends of the current owner, and they had permission to be here, but he still felt like a thief stealing into the place after hours.

Across from the door, the cash register stood sentry atop an old wooden desk, purportedly as old as the building itself, the desk, not the register. Stories went that on some nights a faint glow could be seen from the street seeming to emanate from behind the desk, as though one of the previous owners of the establishment was still working the books trying to make a good accounting of the place. Shop keepers often complained of feeling a warm presence, or being startled by a hot breath on the back of their necks as they sold pieces on display.

The last time they were here, Mark had captured a series of orbs floating near the desk throughout the night, and they’d heard a faint whispered mumbling like someone trying to add up old sales sheets. Even though the house was cooled by central air and heating, the space behind the desk had remained constantly warmer than the rest of the room throughout the night. Tonight, the only dim light came from the keys of the register in sleep mode. As Clancy crossed the threshold, the floor creaked, and far away, perhaps up the stairs, something thumped loudly.

Clancy paused, taking a deep breath, trying to re-swallow his heart.

“Don’t get lost in there.” Klaus called, before he could shut the door, “And remember, don’t use any of the instruments, Sam says it only stirs up their spirits.”

“I can’t believe you invited her on our next adventure.” Sheryl complained, in her normal voice again.

“Sam said she needs to come. She thinks Mammoth Cave will be one of our more dangerous ghost hunts.” Klaus replied. “Which is awesome! Just what we need to get our TV spot. She’s especially worried about a ghost named Melissa.”

“We already have a spiritualist Klaus.” Sheryl continued. “Me.”

Clancy would rather take the risks of encountering the ghosts inside, then get put into the middle of that debate again! Fear forgotten he stepped inside and gently pushed the door closed. He, personally, thought Sam was good for their team dynamics, and for his brother. But as Sheryl’s husband he understood why the two often butted heads. Sheryl was sensitive, and claimed that Sam was tailed by a dark aura. Sam also seemed to be a bit condescending, dismissing about half the evidence in any of their videos, while focusing on other paranormal things which didn’t seem to matter. Sam didn’t seem to think the Specter Detectors were actually capable ghost hunters.

Which is why, after researching this place, Sam had warned them not to come again. “That shop has a grim history, which can contribute to a dire present.” Her exact words. “It’s always to approach a building when a legacy of hauntings and which is tied to a string of deaths with an abundance of caution.” Sam had warned them against using instruments inside the shop. “Look what happened to the last ghost hunters who visited.”

The last ghost hunters besides them, that is, as the worst the Specter Detectors had suffered from their first viral video was a barrage of mean comments and a negative review of their signature tool the Spook Detector, “Isn’t it just a SLS camera with more steps?” That comment still hurt. Clancy and Klaus had developed the Spook Detector themselves, hoping its unique design would eliminate some of the randomness inherent in some ghost hunting equipment.

But, while the Specter Detectors had survived their trip through the shop, with no real trauma, the same could not be said of the Northern Kentucky Ghost League, who had been plagued with a series of accidents after their visit to the shop. One had their engine catch fire just days later, another was admitted to the hospital with burns after a pot of tea had burst in their hands. And the third complained of headaches, and claimed to see visions of horrid faces in the steam every time he took a hot shower.

Rumors of the building’s misfortune went back a long way, and were said to plague any owner who attempted to turn the home/shop towards any business other than pottery and glass. A short run as an apothecary had gone up in smoke, burning down the side building where the chemist worked, taking the chemist with it. ‘An accident of inattention,’ was how the newspaper Sam had found described it. The side building had been in the alley where his friends were standing, waiting for him.

After that, one of the owners had tried renting the place to lodgers, but they had all left complain that the rooms were too hot and stuffy, and that the building was not well ventilated. Then one of the owners had attempted to turn the place it a bakery, but kept burning all of her recipes. It was only when one owner had returned the shop to it’s original use, selling glass and pottery that many of the accidents seemed to stop.

Clancy stared at some of the glass and pottery now, shaking himself. Why was he getting lost in reflections of a previous haunt? They had only come back here to shoot a promo video for their next investigation, when they would head to Mammoth Cave, investigate the bleeding walls, and turn that footage into a pilot for a TV show. He could still hear his friends talking outside. They were waiting for him to head up to the second story so they could continue filming. What was he doing waiting in the entryway?

Suddenly a shadow shifted, causing his throat to squelch up. A car drove by reminding Clancy where he was. How long had he been here? And he’d barely made it into the foyer. He scanned the various glassware shapes in the window. The shadow must have come from the headlights casting onto one of them. Only, it had been very human-like. He pushed that thought aside, Time to move on.

To the left was a display room, with some of the more intricate, expensive, pieces of art. There was a secret stairway leading down to a small basement bar from the days of prohibition. That too had been a failed business, and not because the proprietor had been caught. Instead, a small fire had broken out after an intense bar fight. Everyone had escaped, and the fire had been doused before it could do too much damage. But no one returned to the bar after that night. Visitors to this day claimed to see a burned face reflected in the half melted mirror behind the bar. Some said there were two faces.

Last time the Specter Detectors were here, they’d caught a shadow figure standing behind Cody, and several legible EVP’s. Voiced recorded saying various things. The one which stood out to Clancy was the phrase “It’s too hot.” Those words echoed into his mind, as he turned away from the display room. They weren’t hunting here tonight, just shooting a spooky promo. He turned right. A large open room with big windows. Pictures hung on the wall displaying various glassblowers, and potters at work, the people who made the works in the first room, and others who had sold wares in the shop in the past. This room was sometimes used as a classroom for young students learning to mold clay. Their works would be stored in the back, and be fired later in the offsite kilns. No fires were allowed in residence, anymore.

Seeming to break the no fire rule, a fireplace stood in the corner next to the large window overlooking the front yard. However, Clancy knew that no one fire had been lit in that brick fireplace since the accident involving a former resident’s daughter. After their video about the place had gone viral, the Spector Detectors had gotten a couple complaints from the shops curren owner. Several of the kids who took pottery classes here, watched their video and learned of the ghost girl who was rumored to haunt the room, some of those kids were too scared to resume their pottery classes.

The Spook Detector had gotten good results in this room. They’d set it up in front of the fireplace, and then placed a few motion-sensitive toys in the room. Several times, the Spook Detector went off, then the toys, and then the Spook Detector again. Always in that order, as though the girl was coming from near the fireplace to play, only to return to the fireplace again. Nothing moved there now, but the hairs on the back of Clancy’s neck stood up as he stared at the brick and granite mantle, a single name engraved on white paper set into a wooden frame: Nancy.

Clancy shook himself and forced his body to turn away from the fireplace. A wide wooden stairway led up to a short balcony overlooking the room. The stairs creaked with his weight, and he heard another thump from somewhere higher up. Maybe rats. But, except for the small fridge in the old kitchen turned employees breakroom, there wasn’t any food stored on the property.

As he reached the balcony, Clancy felt a strange urge to glance back down towards the fireplace. He didn’t follow it. Instead, he entered the hallway running through the center of the building. The only dim light came from a stained-glass lamp hanging on the wall, about halfway to the end. It cast white light up, but red, blue, and yellow glimmers along the wall. In a strange quirk of architecture there were several doors leading to various rooms on the right, but the only door on the left was at the end of the hall.

To reach the fire escape he was looking for, he’d have to walk all the way down the hall, and then cross through each room on the left. “Get my good side, babe.” Sheryl’s words echoed through his head. The things he did for love. Of course, all the doors on the right were open, but the rooms were dark. Clancy sped hastily down the hall, resisting the urge to glance into every room he passed. Ignoring the worry at the back of his mind that if he looked, he would see burned faces staring out at him from the shadows.

He reached the end of the hall with only a little sweat dripping from his brow. The hallway terminated in another window. Through it, he had a good view of the backyard where the potter and glassblower used to ply their trades. An old oak tree grew where once their workshop had been, recounting the passage of time. The window, rumored to be original, gave off a warped view—as though the glass had been slightly melted.

There were various stories about the accident which had claimed the lives of the potter and glassblower. By one account, the glassblower had wanted to leave the business and the family, and potter wouldn’t allow it. By another account the glassblower had learned a dark secret about the potter, and set up an explosion to escape him. Of course, the story told to the media was that everything was an accident. The report in the old paper simply state that the couple had either died in the small explosion, or the following fire.

The family story, passed down to the current owner, was that the potter had collapsed near his kiln, and the glassblower had dropped her tools rushing to help him. Those tools, still hot from her work, had caught their shared workshop aflame. Soon after, an explosion had erupted, shattering the glass pieces sending shards through the couple and hopefully putting a quick end to what otherwise would have been an painful deaths by immolation.

It was the explosion which had alerted townsfolk in time to put out the blaze. And it was the tragic circumstance of the two deaths which caused those same townsfolk to spread rumors of how it had happened. It was impossible to tell which version of events was true, since the only two people who knew for certain had perished.

When the Specter Detectors had visited the shop, they’d stood in that backyard, next to the oak, and asked the spirits of the potter and glassblower what had happened directly. All they had had heard was silence, but their recorder had picked up whispers in the wind, four distinct words, “love, loss, water,” and “careful.”

After their first eventful night, Cody had wanted to solve the case, thinking the truth might bring the restless spirits closure. They had delved through historical records to find out what had really happened the night of the accident. However, when Sam had reviewed their raw footage, (pre-edit) she had cautioned the Spector Detectors against attempting to set the record straight. “Stories get crossed over time. To ghosts the truth rarely matters as much as the stories we repeat about them. In this case, we can’t be certain that truth will free the spirits. They might simply be wrapped up in the lurid rumors told about them and they may be reacting not to what happened, but to the speculation and imaginations handed down about them.” Clancy and the others did not understand. “I’m simply saying that fiction, sometimes, can be as dangerous as the truth when it comes to ghost stories.” Sam clarified; one of the philosophies which put her at odds with Sheryl.

A sudden metallic pop brought Cody back to the present. He turned to check the lamp behind him. The pop sounded as though the steel rings wrapped around the tri-color stained glass florets were warping with heat, even though the incandescent bulb in the lantern shouldn’t be hot. That lamp itself was a haunted object. It had claimed the home’s third victim. It had originally been a gas light, and one night, that light had gone out, filling the long hallway with gas. An elderly caretaker, the one who had attempted to turn the building into a boarding house, had passed out. She was still breathing when her youngest son found her, but she passed away a few days later.

Supposedly, the son had wanted to throw the lantern away but couldn’t bring himself to trash the ornate object. The lamp was said to be one of his great-aunt’s prized pieces before she died. So, the lamp had hung, unlit in the hall for, until the home had been wired for electrical lighting. Electrical lighting, however, wouldn’t cause the steel ring around the lamp to warp. So, when the popping sound repeated itself, Clancy decided to ignore it.

After all, he wasn’t here to commune with the dead. He was here for a nostalgic callback which maybe a half-dozen Spectators would notice. Not wanting to spend anymore time in the hall, he braced himself and opened the door on the left. The room in front of him was dark, and ten shadowy figures, backlit by moonlight, stared back at him.

To be continued…