Haunted House Party? (a working title

Haunted House Party


This is the beginning of a story I'm thinking of entering into a contaes and I'd like to know what people think. I know it may be a little long winded but that's what rewrites or for. Right?
Well' I hope you enjoy and please review. I need to learn as much as possible from the people that read the things I write.




* Note: Come up with some background for him and the reason for buying a house like this. I. E. he always wanted a house like this since he was a boy. There was a house like this in the neighbor hood or down the road from where he grew up and loved the style and ambience of the place. In addition, houses like this are always in stories he likes. You know the old spooky house down the road or on the hill.


After selling his first book, Fred goes house hunting. He figures it’s about time to get his own place and since he has the money to do it, that’s what he’s going to do. That is, after he pays off his debts to everyone.
He finds a real estate agent and goes through all the questions and things a real estate agent does with new clients.
They finally find a few places he may be interested in that are in his price range and set up a day and time to go look at them.
None of the houses he looks at is what he really wants. He figures that this is his first house and he’s willing to wait to find just the right one. He tells the agent that he wants an old Victorian house with some character. Not these picture perfect cookie cutter houses that she’s been showing him. He explains about the house he wants in even more detail.
The agent tells him about an old house that has been on the market for a long time and that the price is negotiable at this point because the estate has had some financial difficulty. She tells him that it sounds like what he’s been describing to her, but the house has a long history and because of that history, it’s been hard to get people interested in it. He tells the agent that he’s willing to look at it. (NOTE: Give more info. Make it as if she doesn’t want to show him this particular house.)She tells him that it is about an hours drive away and that it is getting a little late to go that far out. He tells her that he doesn’t have any plans and if she could show it to him today. He’d greatly appreciate it. She gives in and he tells her that they can stop somewhere to eat, and that it would be his treat. She reluctantly agrees.
It takes about an hour and a half or so to get there. And they pull up to old rusty gates which have the house number engraved in a light colored stone above the mailbox that’s been built into one of the stone columns holding the gates.
“Well, this is it. The old Haverstraw house,” she announces.
She drives thru the rusty gates, which have been unlocked and opened by the part-time caretaker of the old place that she called on the way over. The trees overhang the rutted clamshell drive making it feel as though their going thru a long dark tunnel.
As they come to the end of the drive, it opens out onto a less than fine trimmed lawn. The house, which is centered in the lawn, has some old small groves of trees surrounding it. Almost as if, they are framing the house.





***OK here is what I wrote on paper. I’m adding this in to show what my original thoughts where. Later on, I’ll combine the two. And I’ll have to change the font size to 12 point. I’m writing in 16 point so I can see it better as I write. But I finally figured out how to get it double line spaced. Whoopee




Chapter 1


After selling his book. Fred buys an old house, a good old Victorian surrounded by woods with a long winding drive.
The realtor says, “I have one that’s been on the market for a long time and it’s mostly not sold because of its location. You see, it’s kind of isolated.”
“That’s perfect,” Fred, says, “That sounds like just what I want. When can we go look at it?”
“How about now?” The realtor asks him.
“I don’t have any plans today, except this,” he tells her.
They head out to the old house and Fred falls in love with it at first sight, it is a big old-fashioned house with plenty of land and it even has out buildings. You know the kind. Carriage house, garage, sheds. All the usual things. Especially the woods.
“It has all modern hookups, electric, gas, water, sewage, telephone, even cable and satellite for TV and internet,” the agent tells him as they drive out. “Here are some pictures of it.”
“Why all the modern hookups?” he asks.
“The estate thought it would help sell the place about ten years ago, but with the way the market was going back then. Well, you understand,” she explains.
They get to the house and the agent parks her car. They get out and walk up to the front steps to the large front porch leading to the front door. The agent pulls out a ring of old time keys. I mean old. Their all on an old key ring.
“These key are original to the house,” the agent tells him.
She finds the right key, after a few tries, unlocks and opens the door.

* (figure out a good description for everything)

As they walk into the foyer, she turns on the lights. What Fred sees astounds him. It is like walking back in time a hundred years.
“It’s pretty much, what you see, is what you get,” the agent says. “Everything works and all the contents are included in the selling price. That was stipulated in the will.”
“Really? Some of this stuff looks pretty old,” Fred comments.
“The estate has been paying for the upkeep and they hoped this would be a good selling point. Anything that you don’t want can go back to the estate,” she tells him.
The furniture is still covered with white sheets, but you can still see what their covering. (Expand on this description.)
“How come such a low asking price?” does he ask?
“The estate is trying to cut costs and since this place is so isolated, they thought it would sell better at a lower price. To tell you the truth. Nobody has even looked at this place for around nine years.” the agent confides.
“Okay, what’s wrong with it? Somebody die or got murdered here or something?” He asks.
“NO, nobody got murdered here in this house. After the children grew up and moved out to go to school, they went to college, got good jobs, got married, and had children of their own. However, they never came back to visit their parents. After Mr. Haverstraw died, Mrs. Haverstraw continued to live here for twenty-five years until the gardener found her in the library at her desk, dead. She had left everything to her children. Hoping that they would come back, but they never did come back. You see, they had made their millions and couldn’t be bothered with this old place. So, they pay the upkeep and eventually put it on the market with my firm,” she explains to him.
“So, it’s not haunted or anything like that. No, murders, no dead bodies hiding between the walls, under the floors?” he looks at her questioning.
“Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just a case of kids growing up and moving on. I don’t know why they never came back, but you know how it is with kids sometimes. They get so wrapped up in their own lives that they forget where they come from,” she says.
“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” he says sympathetically.
“Do you want to look around? I’ve been here a few times so I can show you around. I even have a floor plan if you want to walk around by yourself,” she says.
“Okay, that would be great. This place looks wonderful, with all the woodwork and plaster walls,” he says.
“Everything is original to the house. There’s never really been any reconstruction or additions except the electric, and heating and air conditioning of course,” she says.
“This place has air conditioning?” he asks surprised.
“Yes, they wanted to modernize. That’s why the electric lights and all. They had to bring it up to code, to put it on the market. Then, when it was rented about five years ago to some corporate big shot. That’s when the new heating and air conditioning was put in,” she says.
“Oh, so I’m not the first to be living here since she died then?” he asks.
“Well…in reality. Yes, you will be the first to be living here since her death. You see, the corporate big wig never got to live here. He didn’t even get to see the place. He ended up being shipped off to Japan or some place like that. But the company did finish the remodel and paid off the rental in full.” she tells him.
They look around for a couple of hours and the more he sees of the place, the more he wants the place. Especially when he sees the library.
“This will be perfect for writing and I can’t wait to see what all these old books are about,” he says with building excitement,” he says.
As they head back to the front door to leave he, feels a cold shiver run up his back. He turns around and looks about to see where the cold draft came from, but he doesn’t see any breezes so he turns back around to follow the realtor out the door. Walking back to her car he turns around to look a the house again, wondering what secrets are lurking in the old house for him to find.
As his gets into her car he asks,” Does this place have a name?”
“A name?” she asks. “No, no really. Just the old Haverstraw place. Why?”
“It just seems like it should have a name, that’s all,” he says.
They head back to the agents office to sign the paper work for the sale of the house. Fred leaves the office to go back to his place. A week later the agent calls and tells him that everything has been approved and that he can move in at anytime he likes.
“I’ll drop by tomorrow and give you all the paper work and the keys.” she says to him.
Within a few days, the agent stops by and drops everything off in an old documents box that’s very finely craved made of some type of dark wood. (Figure that out later)
*** NOW THE FUN BEGINS ***
With the sale of the house, the estate contacts him to set up a day to open the house for him. That mainly means that they’ll send a cleaning crew to remove all the sheets from the furniture and have them cleaned and returned to him or put in storage. They will also clean the house and the carriage house and have the house ready for him. This is a surprise to him. It’s explained to him, that this was in the papers that he signed and not to worry, because this was a regularly scheduled cleaning for the year and it’s already been paid for by the estate. He agrees and tells them that he was going to be moving in the tomorrow and that they can send the crew out anytime that’s convenient.
The next day he pulls up to the house and gets out of his car and just stands there looking (staring) at his new home. Taking in the ambience of the old place. The smell of the woods that surround the place and just plain old taking the place in.
“I’ve always wanted a place like this,” he says to himself.
He takes his duffle bags and the few boxes he packed out of the trunk and sets them on the porch. Going to the passenger side of the car, he reaches in for the finely carved wooden box with the keys and papers for the house. He closes the car door and walks up the stairs onto the large porch and steps up to the front door. Opening the box to get the keys he wonders to himself. How long has it been since the box has been away from the house.
“I guess it’s about time you came back here, huh?” he says to the box. “Now why did I say that?”
He gets the door keys, slides it easily into the well-oiled lock, and turns the key. It’s nice hearing the keys jingle in his hands. Opening the front door to the house. He just stands there in the doorway as he did when he got out of his car, and then walks in a few steps. Leaving his bags on the porch, he enters the house alone for the first time and starts to look around. As he’s looking around the first floor, he comes to the library.
Opening the door and walking in he says,”Ahhh,” with satisfaction.
He sets the box on a shelf as he goes to remove the sheets from the desk and chair. He rolls the sheets into a ball and lets them fall to the floor. Retrieving the box, he places it on the desk blotter. Then he goes to the windows and starts to open all the curtains to let the light in the room. Turning from the last window, he sees the room in all its glory, the rich woodwork of the bookcases and the room. He inhales deeply of the smell of leather furniture and bookbinding and paper. He walks to the deck and sits in the big over-stuffed brown leather desk chair. Leaning back in the chair with a sigh, he looks around the room with a feeling of elation and calm satisfaction. (All the good feelings of finding something that you think is perfect)
He doesn’t realize how long he sat there daydreaming. He may have nodded off for a while because he didn‘t sleep too much the night before. Then he hears noises and footsteps coming from the hallway and a voice calling.
“Hello? Hello, is anyone home? Hello?”
He sits up and calls out, “In here, I’m in the library.”
A head pops around the doorframe of the library door and then the rest of her comes into view.
She smiles and says, “Oh, there you are. The front door was open and we figured someone was home. We’re from the cleaning company. My names Amanda.” Introducing herself and walking around the desk to shake his hand. Fred stands and meets her besides the desk with his hand extended. Shaking hands with the woman and introducing himself.
“Hi, I’m Fred, Fred Stigile,” he says.
Their eyes meet and she says, “So you’re the one that bought this old house, Huh? We didn’t think it would ever sell,” she says bubbly.
“Why would you ever think that? It’s such a wonderful house. Well, at least what I’ve seen of it. You know with all the sheets, it does take some of its charm away,” Fred says.
“Well… with the stories we’ve heard about it,” Amanda says.
“Stories? I haven’t heard about any stories. I asked the realtor and she didn’t tell me anything about any stories,” he says.
“It’s more like an urban legend to tell you the truth,” she says hesitantly.
“Okay, so you’re trying to tell me this place is haunted?” he asks.
“Noo….it’s not the house really. It’s …the woods,” she says with downcast eyes.
“The woods? What’s wrong with the woods?” he asks curiously.
“Some people say that there are beasts that live there. You know what I mean, people that live around here tell stories about the beasts in the woods. There more like campfire ghost stories to scare kids, but they’ve been telling them for a long time,” she tells him.
“Campfire stories, huh? I take it you live around here then,” he asks.
“Yes Sir, I live in town,” she answers.
Another heads pops around the library doorway followed by the body of an ageing mostly balding man. And he says, “Ah, there you are Amanda. Sorry Sir, the door was open so we came in to do the cleaning. We brought your bags and thing in for you.”
“Yes, Amanda has been explaining that to me. How long do you think it’s going to take?” Fred asks. “I’d like to throw a house warming party soon.”
“We were told to do a really good job. You know, a top to bottom job and to do the same thing to the carriage house. Therefore, I figure four of five days should do it. We’ll start with the main house of course and then move to the carriage house. That way we can get out of your way,” he explains.
“That’s fine with me; could you start with the master bedroom and bath, and the kitchen? I’ll be staying here while the cleanings is done,” Fred says.
“Sure thing, I guess you’re excited about this old place. Huh?” the old person asks.
“Yeah, this is my first time buying a house. It’s exciting, and I couldn’t wait to move in and all that,” Fred says smiling.
“Oh, I remember the feeling, when me and the Misses first moved into our place. It wasn’t as nice as this place. But for us it was perfect,” He says reminiscently. Well, we better be getting to work. Is nice meeting you.”
“Same here,” Fred says. “Maybe we can get together later. You know you, Amanda and me. For coffee and whatever.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” the old man says. Glancing quickly at the carved wooded box sitting on my desk. “I think we may have quite a lot to talk about. Don’t you Amanda?”
“Yeah, sure,” Amanda says. “A lot to talk about.”

HHP1a

They leave to go clean my house, leaving me with more questions to ask them later. I go to sit back at the desk and I turn to look around the room. I notice on each side of the door are two large pieces of furniture. They look like amours (find the right thing to call them); both are about seven feet tall and at least four feet wide. Maybe one has a bar in it. I walk over to the one on the hinge side of the door and study it. Its old wood glowing with age and warmth as the sunlight caresses the wood. Studying the grain of the wood and just…just what? Oh, I’m glad all this old furniture was left with the house for me.
I reach to open the door and find it locked. Damn! Nothing is easy these days. I remember the key ring on my desk, go, and retrieve them. There has to be a key to open it on here. I look thru the keys and find one the might fit and go back to insert it into the keyhole. Nope, not that one. I try another key, and another. That’s it, third times the charm. Why did I think that? The three times get’s me thinking for some reason… three times? That means something. I can’t remember what though. Ehh, I worry about that later. I really hope there’s something good in here. They key turns easily and I open the doors. To my relief I see a few bottles of what I hope to be liquor. The bottles have little silver necklaces on them with plagues telling what should be in the bottles. To call them bottles is a sin. In reality, they’re finely carved carafes sitting on a silver tray with a half dozen upside down glasses on it.
I reach for a carafe and pick it up with apprehension.




* * * NOTE * * *

I’m thinking; maybe have the scare come from joining the box back with the house. On the other hand, have the woods haunted as I already started to do, maybe a combination of the two. The box returning back to the house and that brings the creature back into the woods or the house. Creature comes from the woods to do something with the box or the people that control the box. Eh…. Let’s see where the story takes me.