Paranormal is Relative

By S.J. Drew

Meet Nevermore and the Ravens, a progressive concept rock band! They've just released their second hit album, "Paranormal is Relative." Told from the perspective of an interview in a leading national radio show, the novel-length collection of short stories follows the supernaturally-themed misadventures of the band that were the inspiration for their album (song lyrics included!).

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.J. Drew
• Release date: Oct 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301607280

S.J. Drew

I am an aspiring author living and working in an undisclosed location in the U.S. I love writing and hope people will love my writing too (check out my blog for more examples) and are encouraged to post comments and reviews to the S. J. Drew Facebook page. I also have a WordPress blog for the purpose of shameless self-promotion in which I provide hopefully witty commentary for things that I find interesting, and I hope you will too.

Book preview

Paranormal is Relative

By S.J. Drew

Story and Cover Copyright 2013 S.J. Drew

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents:

Introduction

Track 1 - Beyond the Grave

Track 2 - Ghost Writer

Track 3 - Green-eyed Monster

Track 4 - Don’t Quoth Me

Track 5 - Cathedral of the Soul

Track 6 - Lovecraftian Horror

Track 7 - The Brother of Sleep

Track 8 - Bad Seed

Track 9 - Calm Before the Storm

Track 10 - How You Play the Game

Track 11 - Not a Murder (Only an Unkindness)

Track 12 - Like a Writing Desk

Track 13 - Howl at the Moon

Wrap-Up

Introduction:

Kelly: Hello everyone and welcome to Top 45 Revolutions! I'm Kelly Kellem!

Bryan: And I'm Bryan Highwave! This week after breaking into the Top 45 with three songs from their new album, Paranormal is Relative, we got a chance to sit down and interview the band Nevermore and the Ravens.

Kelly: The band is notorious for being evasive and mysterious about their real lives and the inspiration for their songs."

Bryan: But we thought we'd be able to get through that tough exterior and find out what makes them so successful.

Kelly: The whole interview will be available for download tomorrow. We’ll also include the song lyrics for context.

Bryan: And you can find out if we got the inside story or not. As usual, they did not tell us their real names, but insisted on being called by their stage names of Anna, Belle, Lee, and Lenore.

Kelly: By the way, we'd like to point out that even though this is a radio show, the band showed up in full costume. They looked like they're wearing a punk take on a tuxedo, complete with top hats, and everyone had long black hair partially covering their faces.

Bryan: They were dressed identically, which is one of their trademarks, in addition to crediting the whole band for each song and switching up who plays and who sings. In fact, the only person with any specific credit is Dave Rafel, and we'll get to that during the interview

Kelly: So, let's get this show started!

Track 1 - Beyond the Grave

The Interview:

Bryan: We're glad to have you on our show!

Anna: Thanks! We're glad to be here!

Bryan: So we're here to discuss your second album, Paranormal is Relative.

Kelly: Your first album, Necromancy for the Greater Good, was of course a break-out success. It's been called everything from innovative to odd but definitely not mainstream.

Bryan: Some of the tracks on this album might be considered mainstream.

Lenore: Is that necessarily a problem?

Kelly: You know, people may accuse you of selling out.

Lee: That would be great!

Bryan: It would? Really?

Lenore: Sure. It means people are paying attention.

Belle: It means there are enough people who have listened to us and liked us to form an opinion on what they think our music should be.

Anna: It's one of the signs that we've really made it big.

Kelly: Really? What's another sign?

Lee: When someone like Weird Al does a parody of one of our songs.

Bryan: That's fair.

Kelly: So, the first track here, Beyond the Grave, is hard rock with a metal edge but judging by the lyrics, it seems to be a love song, except it seems like the opposite of a love song, kind of like Blood-Sucking Fiend.

Lenore: Sure, let's go with whatever that means.

Bryan: Why do you feel inspired to write songs that seem to make fun of love?

Belle: We aren't making fun, as such. We're just pointing out the flaws in common perceptions of love. We did it in Blood-Sucking Fiend with vampires, and here we're just taking on the idea of love lasting beyond death.

Kelly: But why?

Lee: Regular love songs are boring. We don't like boring.

Bryan: [laughs] That's obvious. So what was your inspiration for this song?

Anna: Life, and death, and stuff.

Kelly: You aren't going to give us any details, are you?

Lee: Nope.

Bryan: Do we have any chance of getting the inside story?

Lee: Probably not. But you can keep asking anyway.

The Inside Story:

A show in Salem around Halloween? Leah said, reviewing their itinerary. That's totally appropriate. Did Mr. Rafel book this one or did Dave? she asked, referring to their agent and his son.

I think Dave booked this one for us, Isabella answered as she steered their van.

I would have guessed that. Mr. Rafel still doesn't get our music, Nora sighed from her usual spot in the front passenger seat.

I know this town really revels in its history, but it is actually kind of gloomy this time of year, Maryann said. We missed all the pretty autumn leaves.

Maybe next time around, Leah said. So where are we staying for this gig?

Gable House Bed and Breakfast, Isabella replied.

Probably it's some kind of touristy thing, Nora said dryly. Genuine haunted house with a real live ghost and all that.

Actually, no, Maryann returned, looking at reviews of the place on her phone. Apparently it's not haunted at all. That's also apparently a bad thing here.

How come everyone's so sure it's not haunted?

Well, it used to have a reputation for being haunted. You know, the usual stuff like cold spots, odd breezes, things falling off of shelves by themselves. But about twenty years ago, all that stuff stopped happening. Looks like the owners have hired ghost hunters to prove the place really is haunted and no one has turned up anything.

Wait, the owners want their B&B to be haunted? Leah asked. Well, I guess in a town built on supernatural tourism, an un-haunted house is not a draw. So let me guess, the rates are really low?

Isabella shrugged. It works out for us.

And it would be nice to stay in a definitely un-haunted house for once, Maryann said.

You just totally jinxed us, Leah replied.

Oh, honestly.

Hey, I've jinxed us before. Remember the Battle of the Bands and I said nothing was going to happen on Halloween because that's too cliché? I was wrong, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

So you're saying this house is definitely not not-haunted?

I'm saying a double-negative equals proof-positive, Leah answered. She waited a moment. No one got that? It's from Clue.

After a quick online search Nora said, What is it with you and '80s pop culture? You weren't even alive in the '80s.

I have three older brothers who were and they loved that movie. Specifically, they loved watching the busty French maid.

Boys, Maryann said, shaking her head.

Gable House Bed and Breakfast was actually a little outside the Salem city limits. The house was large and built in a kind of Gothic style. There was a very large American elm tree in the front yard that looked easily as old as the house. Everything about it was old and sprawling.

Are you sure those reviews say this place isn't haunted? Leah asked. I mean, look at it.

It looks like my great-aunt Victoria's house, Nora said. Although I think her house is probably older.

I think it looks nice, Maryann said brightly. I like all the trim and the pointy roof bits.

The band checked into their rooms. Nora and Isabella shared one, as normal, and Maryann and Leah shared another. They dropped off their luggage, got into costume, and headed back out almost immediately for their first gig. They returned late and went to sleep as soon as they could.

Isabella woke up to the sound of thunder. Her eyes popped open and very carefully felt for her glasses, which she always kept under her pillow. It was annoying being near-sighted, and as a natural medium who was often awakened by things that went bump in the night, it was downright frustrating at times. She tried to put her frame-less glasses on without being too obvious about it and reflected again on the idea of getting laser vision correction. She carefully looked around the room. Standing near the door was a ghost of a man. He was translucent but other than that didn't look very corpse-like. He was a little past middle-age and was wearing very old-fashioned clothes. He was just kind of staring at Isabella and seemed unaware she could see him. She rolled over and cast a spell on Nora to allow her to see spirits.

Nora! Nora! she said in a harsh whisper.

What? she replied fuzzily.

Look at the door.

Nora sighed and sat up in her bed.

The ghost looked startled but didn't move.

What do you think you're doing here? Nora demanded.

The ghost and Isabella looked very surprised.

Yes, you in the corner. What are you doing in the room of two single young ladies at this hour?

I-I-I, he stuttered.

Nora? Isabella said in disbelief.

Aren't you a gentleman? How dare you! This isn't appropriate. This is scandalous. Scandalous! she said.

My apologies. I-I-I didn't mean harm...

Get out. You can come back after breakfast when we're dressed to receive the company of a gentleman.

Yes, you're right. Again, my apologies, he said, and passed right through the door.

Isabella was just staring at Nora.

Nora yawned. Problem solved for now. Good night, she said, and rolled back over and went to sleep.

Isabella shook her head and went back to sleep.

In the morning, they met up with Leah and Maryann and briefed them on the odd events of the previous night before they headed to breakfast. While the young women dressed identically on the stage, they could not be more different in their regular clothes. Nora wore a fashion-forward, designer label purple dress with immaculately styled, straightened hair. Isabella had on a plain white, long-sleeved t-shirt and blue jeans from a big-box department store and pulled her blond hair back in a ponytail. Maryann's eclectic sense of style had the common thread of bright colors, so her orange-rimmed glasses, orange shirt, red pants, and shoulder-length red hair stood out against the rather old-fashioned, pastel-colored walls and interior decorations. Leah, who was used to hand-me-downs from her brothers, wore a green sweatshirt and brown jeans and kept her long, thick, dark hair braided and out of her face.

Definitely not not-haunted, Leah said smugly.

Fine, fine, I jinxed us, Maryann sighed. I shouldn't be surprised, I guess. So many weird things happen to us it's like being weirdness magnets is really our job in life.

You're being silly, Nora said. We're musicians. It's not like all the weird stuff happens to us all the time.

They descended the stairs to see a frazzled woman staring at the lounge area looking lost. Ruby! Ruby! Ruby Lew, where are you? she asked, calling to either a child or a pet.

Over here, said a high-pitched voice with a lisp.

The woman walked over to an in-table and a three-year old girl crawled out from underneath it. There you are! Don't run away like that! And look, you knocked over the lamp, she said with a strong Brooklyn accent, setting it back on the in-table.

Wow, that's one heck of a lampshade, Leah said.

Oh, it's too kitschy for my taste, but I don't think it's that bad, Maryann replied.

The frazzled woman led the child into the dining room while giving her a lecture on appropriate public behavior.

Anyway, let's get some food and figure out what we're going to do, Nora said.

By the way, how did you know how to chase away the ghost? Isabella asked.

From the age of the house and his clothes, I guessed he was a financially well-off man from the early 1800s. Men of that time period did not go into ladies bedrooms like that. So I just shamed him into leaving.

You made a ghost blush? Leah asked, sounding impressed.

Something like that anyway.

And you recognized his age by his clothes? Isabella asked.

One of my projects for American History was on fashion, Nora answered. I didn't focus on this time period, but I did study it.

You went to a way better high school than I did, Leah replied.

Breakfast was, as expected, homemade and quite filling. They also discussed their mysterious visitor. His identity, at least, was easily found out due to the large portrait over the fireplace in the lounge.

'Fitzwilliam Gable,' Leah read off of the plaque on the bottom of the portrait. 'Founder of the Gable House.' Well, that tells us a little bit anyway.

An elderly woman in a floral apron walked up next to them. Oh, would you like to know about the Gable House? she asked, peering through her thick glasses. I'm Mrs. Gable and I own this place.

Nice to meet you, Maryann said immediately. We would love to know more about the history your lovely bed and breakfast. And how everyone knows it's definitely not haunted.

A slightly bitter expression crossed Mrs. Gable's face but it quickly passed and she smiled pleasantly. Fitzwilliam Gable was descended from some of the first British colonists in Massachusetts. The family first settled in Boston and made a fortune on importing goods. The Embargo Act of 1807 made business difficult, so the family moved to Salem and used a great deal of the money to invest in Chinese imports, which paid off. The Gables were a little tired of city life from their years in Boston, so when they decided to settle down, they picked a spot a bit outside the city. Nathaniel Gable, Fitzwilliam's father, actually built this house in 1810 and it was completed the year Fitzwilliam was born. Of course, all that is just accounting, she said. In 1832, Nathaniel died and the business was left to Fitzwilliam, who ran it quite well. And later that year, he met Elise Berkshire, whom he later married. That, of course, is where the story gets interesting.

How so? Maryann prompted.

Follow me, Mrs. Gable said, leading them to what had probably been originally the parlor of the house. There was large portrait of a young lady with blond hair, fair skin, and attractive, if slightly pointy, facial features. She was wearing a high fashion pink dress of the early 1800s.

The band stared.

Isabella, she looks almost exactly like you, Maryann whispered.

Mrs. Gable didn't hear her. Elise joined the household as a common housekeeper. Despite their differences, Fitzwilliam and Elise fell in love and married in 1834. Many of the members of the Gable family remaining in Boston were against him marrying down, as they saw it. There was some bad blood between Nathaniel and his brother William, that's Fitzwilliam's uncle, and old William did not take kindly to his nephew marrying such a low-class woman. Fitzwilliam and Elise had four children and he fought to make sure they were recognized as his legal heirs. She shook her head. Despite all that, they were fairly happy together. But then in 1859, Elise died suddenly. There were a number of rumors at the time that she had been murdered by one of the Boston cousins, or that Fitzwilliam himself had murdered her to finally appease his uncle William, or that she was so distressed by the family feuding she killed herself.

The band expressed appropriate sympathy.

Fitzwilliam just wasn't the same. He became deeply depressed and almost obsessive over the loss of his beloved Elise. On the one year anniversary of her death, a housekeeper found him dead in his bedroom. To this day no one knows how he died. There were more rumors of murder by the Boston cousins or of suicide so he could follow Elise to the afterlife. So very sad. She shook her head again. Not long after his death, the family started to report strange happenings. Objects would move of their own accord. Rooms had cold spots and sometimes people would see lit candles in empty rooms, only to have the light go out as soon as they entered. Things got so bad that Nathaniel Gable the second, Fitzwilliam's eldest son, moved out of the house and back to Boston, although I suppose that could be due to the family's interest in manufacturing over imports. For quite a long time the house was empty. My husband inherited the house and we thought it would be perfect for a bed and breakfast. The house still had a reputation for being haunted, which certainly didn't hurt during tourist season. The old lady sighed again. But the house has been silent for nearly twenty years. I guess Fitzwilliam moved on. I of course wish him peace, she said hastily, however, it was obvious that she felt business would be better if the house was actually haunted.

Well, thank you for telling us the story, Maryann said. Even if the house isn't haunted...

Leah coughed slightly.

Maryann glared at her. Even if it isn't haunted, I think it's a lovely old house with tasty food so if people would rather go to some touristy haunted house, they don't know what they're missing.

Mrs. Gable smiled a little bitterly. Well, thank you dearie, but unfortunately most people don't seem to agree. They like haunted houses or houses were famous witches lived. Or famous colonists, but sadly the Gables did not distinguish themselves to that degree during the Revolutionary War. It's too bad, really. I like the town, even with all the tourists, and I love the house, but business is business. We need either a tourist draw or a historical draw and since the haunting stopped, we don't have either. But that's not your problem. I hope you'll give us a good review on those social media sites you kids are on these days.

Sure, we can do that, Maryann said.

Mrs. Gable lead them back to the busier, but not busy enough, dining area, and struck up a conversation with the frazzled woman and her daughter Ruby.

The band returned to Nora and Isabella's room.

You look exactly like Elise! Maryann said.

Yes, I noticed that, Isabella replied dryly. That probably explains the ghost's interest.

I feel kind of bad for Mrs. Gable, Leah said. She runs a nice place but probably doesn't get as much business as she wants.

I do too, but we do have the problem of the definitely not not-haunted house to deal with, Nora reminded them.

Well, let's talk to the ghost and find out what he wants and go from there, Isabella said.

You have to be sensible all the time, Leah replied.

There was a knock at the door and a male voice asked, May I enter your bed-chamber?

That's got to be the ghost, Nora said. No one uses the phrase 'bed-chamber' anymore.

Isabella quickly cast spirit sight on the group although she suspected the ghost would probably manifest for them if he was knocking on the door. You may come in, she said.

The ghost of the man she had seen the night before walked through the door, fully manifested and visible to the unaided eye. Please accept my most humble apologies for last night's intrusion. I had no business entering your private rooms without permission. I can only offer the unacceptable excuse that being dead has rendered many manners unnecessary and I have forgotten many more. Please forgive me.

I'll think about, Isabella said. We got some of the family history from Mrs. Gable this morning.

He looked faintly annoyed. Yes. She and her husband have been good stewards of the house although I disapprove of it being turned into a business. Still, I do understand that the living have needs and those needs are met through earning money. I am glad; however, they ceased attempting to market the house as haunted to tourists.

Well, it sounds like they lost all the ghostly happenings to market, Nora said.

He nodded. Opening a business in the family house is close to selling out the family name. I accepted that, however, as a necessary evil. But capitalizing on the family tragedy to attempt to attract more ungrateful gawking tourists was not acceptable! I still retain some dignity after death, he said proudly.

Okay, I get that. So why were you in our room last night? Nora asked.

He stared at his feet a moment. Did Mrs. Gable show you the portrait of my beloved Elise?

Yes.

Your mistress looks so much like Elise...

Mistress? What are you talking about? Nora demanded.

I-I assume you are this young lady's personal servant, he stuttered. You and the Spanish and Irish immigrants, he said, pointing to Leah and Maryann in turn.

Excuse me? Maryann exclaimed.

Nora crossed her arms. Now listen here. I know when you were alive black people were servants or slaves and immigrants were just servants but it's been over a hundred and fifty years since you died and just a few things have changed since then. We're all equal here, you got that?

He looked quite taken aback. My apologies, again. I am only dimly aware of the sensibilities of the modern age, and it is quite difficult for the dead to change their ways.

Whatever, she said. So, yes, Isabella looks a lot like Elise. That doesn't mean you can watch her sleep like some creepy stalker.

Yes, I agree with the sentiment. I can only make apologies for my breach in manners and etiquette. But I have been here so long, I thought perhaps my beloved Elise had finally returned to me and we could be together again, he said.

I'm not your dead wife, Isabella replied flatly.

You are not familiar with the concept of reincarnation? he asked. I know, it is a pagan belief and certainly contradictory to my Protestant upbringing, but ghosts are also a pagan belief and yet here I am.

I know what reincarnation is, she answered. I don't know if I believe in it.

But you look so much like her I would swear you must be at least distantly related.

She shrugged. It's possible, I guess. My Dad's ancestors did settle in the Boston area.

Then perhaps there is still a chance, he said, looking slightly less translucent. Our love was like none other. We hardly liked each other at first, he said with a laugh. She was a servant and I barely paid her any attention until she sharply rebuked me for getting in the way of her work. I almost sent her from the house, but I was distracted by her fair face and unusual gray eyes, which I notice you share.

I'm not your dead wife, Isabella said again.

We bickered and sparred and one day realized we loved each other. I proposed underneath the great elm in the front yard. She accepted my proposal. Sadly, my family did not accept my marriage to a woman of such a low class. I endured such harassment from my Uncle William, curse him, and I know she did as well. Even our children were not sheltered from the harassment from the family in Boston. Fitzwilliam started to look translucent again. Such tactics took a toll on her health. She suffered from bouts of coughing and terrible headaches that left her bedridden for days. I brought in all the finest doctors and they would give her tonics and medicines but her health continued to decline. I did not realize how fragile she was...

I'm very sorry, Maryann said after a few moments.

Thank you. Even though she had been ill, her death was still quite a shock to me. I was in turns so furious I could not see straight and in such a deep grief I could not get out of my bed. I was partially convinced one of my Boston cousins had poisoned her in order to finally satisfy my Uncle William's wish that the marriage be ended. I investigated the doctors but I found no evidence of foul play.

Do you still think your family may have murdered your wife? Leah asked.

He sighed. I do not know. Competency in the medical profession in my lifetime was difficult to find. It would have been easy for a cousin to bribe a doctor into giving my wife something detrimental, or the doctor could merely have been ignorant of the consequences of his prescription. Or perhaps my wife did not understand the dosing instructions and accidentally killed herself. Even now such thoughts cause me great anxiety.

Did you kill yourself because of that? Isabella asked.

Now he looked ashamed. Yes and no. I took to drinking, which caused me to be violent and irritable. I was depressed, so I sought medicine to improve my moods. I made accusations of murder and foul play by my Boston relatives which caused a number of fights with them and my own children. I was engaging in many self-destructive behaviors which did lead to my death, but it was not intentional. I think perhaps the medications and alcohol should not have been combined. I went to sleep one night and never woke up.

But if you missed your wife so much, why didn't you move on? Nora asked.

I have asked myself that every day. I wish to move on, but something binds me here. Upon realizing I would not be united with my beloved in Heaven, I acted out. My disruptions eventually drove my family away from their birthright. It was only recently the Gables returned and you can see what happened, he said.

And this reincarnation thing? Isabella said.

He seemed to brighten up again. I wondered if perhaps I was bound here as a test of my love and devotion. I am bound to Gable House, but I may cross the boundaries for a time, and so I have often visited the city to try to alleviate the boredom. I learned of many things. I do believe one day my Elise will return to me and we can be together again.

But why? Isabella asked. "I mean, life and death aren't quite as separate as a lot of people think, but it's been a hundred and fifty years.