The Tormented House on Oakland Street

By Karly Paul-Morris

The Oakland House is alive, living and breathing. Is it possible that a house has the ablilty to capture a person's soul and absorb their energy within its walls? The Oakland house seethes in a quiet rage; it has every right to. Jenny has been gone for years and it can no longer wait for her return.
Jenny and her siblings grew up on Oakland Street in Pasadena, California. She had always known there was something unusual about her old house. She could feel it in her bones. Jenny was devastated the day her parents said they were moving from the old colonel mansion, but nothing could prepare her for its vengeful spirit.
The story moves in-and-out of reality. The Oakland house regains vitality, regressing to the time when Jenny lived there. Everyone and everything is exactly how Jenny dreamed. Or is it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karly Paul-Morris
• Release date: Jul 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9780986902109

Karly Paul-Morris

Karly Paul-Morris was born and raised in Pasadena, California. Karly immigrated to Canada in the mid 70's and pursued a career in Interior Design. After years of working in the design field, Karly began to write and never turned back.

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THE TORMENTED HOUSE ON OAKLAND STREET

Karly Paul-Morris

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Published by Karly Paul-Morris on Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 by Karly Paul-Morris

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the publisher.

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Cover Artwork by Paul Young

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ISBN 978-0-9869021-1-6

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To my children, Adam and Andrew,

and to Rob,

my one and only.

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It is with heart-felt gratitude that I acknowledge my cousin, Anne Young, for her encouragement and belief in me. Thank-you.

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We can’t bring back the past. Those moments no longer exist. Our playmates are now old. The family who lived in the small house behind the hedge are gone, and so is their dog. We can revisit the neighborhood, but it’s no longer home.

Lowell Allan Paul

Table of Contents

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~ 1 ~

We appreciate you taking the time to show us around, Jenny said, extending her hand to the elderly man. He smiled at Jenny and her cousin Anne, as if he had something more to say. There was a tired glint in his eyes and his old bones shifted in their stance. His frail wife did not appear concerned as the small group descended the flight of stairs, pausing on the massive landing that overlooked the entrance area below. There was a built-in storage seat on the landing that extended the length of the enormous window above it. Reaching down, Jenny’s hand trembled as she touched the brass handle to lift the seat. She had placed her precious dolls and stuffed animals in the window seat the day her family moved away years ago. With a slight tug, Jenny felt the resistance of the seat struggling to open. It would wait for another day.

Jenny and her cousin stood in the entrance area of her old house and thanked the couple for their time. She could have spent hours reminiscing, but she would not allow herself to over-extend their welcome. Exchanging final pleasantries, Jenny and Anne walked outside and down the concrete steps to the driveway. A twinge of nausea settled in the pit of Jenny’s stomach and for a moment she wondered if she would be sick. Fighting to maintain her balance, Jenny turned to look at her old house one last time.

Are you alright? Anne asked, her eyes widening.

Jenny’s vision weaved in and out, her thoughts were muddled. A loud piercing noise erupted in her head.

You’re not looking very well, Anne said, attempting to support Jenny as they reached the end of the driveway. Opening the car door, Anne helped Jenny into the passenger seat.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jenny said, clutching her growling stomach. She regretted skipping breakfast that morning. With the thought of seeing her old house, she had been far too excited to consume anything. Jenny’s blond hair fell limp to the side of her face as her cousin quickly closed the door and rushed over to the driver’s side of the car. Reaching for the handle, Anne attempted to open the car door. Jenny watched with alarm as the lock slammed down before her cousin could let herself in.

What happened? Anne cried through the closed window. Struggling with the handle, Anne glared at Jenny sitting inside the car. The hard look on Anne’s face was unfamiliar from her usual knowing smile and gentle eyes. Unlock the door! Anne yelled in desperation, pointing to the lock.

Leaning over the driver’s seat, Jenny slowly pried the lock up with her fingers. She could feel the car’s resistance to releasing the stubborn lock. Grabbing the door, Jenny saw her cousin’s eyes widen as the lock snapped back down.

There must be an electrical glitch in the car, Jenny screamed through the closed window. Holding the steering wheel, Jenny pulled herself over to the driver’s seat and threw her weight against the door. Pushing the car door open with her leg, Jenny set her foot down onto the paved street.

Come on in! Jenny cried, watching in disbelief as the car door swung closed crushing her leg. An instant jolt of agony coursed through Jenny’s leg as she saw it wedged between the half-open door and the car. What’s going on? Jenny screamed, seeing her pulsating leg through blurred vision.

Anne furiously pulled at the handle, yanking it with all her strength. The door gave no indication of easing in its pursuit to inflict the tormenting pain. Jenny realized if there was anyone that could pry open the defective door, it was her cousin. Anne had a strong build, unlike Jenny’s. Struggling to free herself, Jenny felt a wave of nausea threatening to take control.

Can you open it? Jenny pleaded, now reeling in a pain that she never thought possible. A piercing high pitched squeal suffocated her thoughts as she felt her throbbing leg and body fall limp against the car seat.

For God’s sake! Jenny barely heard her cousin scream. Bright lights began ricocheting relentlessly inside Jenny’s head. Her leg had begun to bleed from a loose bolt that had been hanging from the inside frame of the car door. Jenny remembered thinking that Anne had always meant to fix the door and most likely regretted ever letting it go unattended.

Jenny felt herself slip into unconsciousness as she floated quietly above the scene. Her body was weightless with the cool wind streaming through her hair. Soaring up towards the sky, Jenny was strangely aware that she could see everything for miles around. Her cousin was wildly beating the car window and her clenched fist had begun to bleed. Small droplets of blood began to smear the car door. In spite of her calmness, Jenny gasped at the sight of seeing herself lying on the front car seat with her blood streaked leg grossly twisted in an unnatural position and hanging limply out from the small crack of the door.

Anne continued beating the car window in her pursuit to release Jenny’s leg, but with little success. Jenny realized she was not in any discomfort while she gazed down at the frantic scene. In fact, she could not ever remember feeling as peaceful and tranquil in her life.

Gliding up higher above her old house, Jenny hovered over the living room and saw the elderly couple. They were discussing their recent visitors, but their conversation made little sense to Jenny. They spoke to the house as if it were a person, a living and breathing spirit waiting for Jenny to come home. The elderly couple sat at ease in the high-back chairs on either side of the fireplace. Subconsciously, Jenny knew they were resigned to the fact that they were mere puppets in the grand scheme of the house’s plan. They had said their young granddaughter would be assisting in some capacity that wasn’t completely clear to them, at least not yet.

Jenny felt the tug of her body being pulled back into the car. She resisted and desperately wanted to linger over her old house and listen to the elderly couple’s conversation that had piqued her interest. Jenny could see that her cousin was making progress in opening the car door and it wouldn’t be long before Anne reached her.

In the next instant, Jenny felt the agonizing pain return not only to her leg, but to her entire body. The torture was beyond what Jenny thought was humanly possible. Willing herself to open her eyes, Jenny saw the sheer desperation on her cousin’s face.

Are you alright? Anne cried, crawling into the car. I think we had better get you to the hospital. Looking down, Jenny watched in awe as the oozing gape in her leg instantly healed itself. She wondered if she was in shock and could no longer feel the agony from minutes ago. She had been floating over her house and instinctively knew that whatever the elderly couple were discussing was crucial to her well-being.

How did that happen? Anne shrieked, staring at Jenny’s mended leg. Jenny could not imagine how her body had the capability of recovering so quickly. Anne’s eyes widened and Jenny knew her cousin was waiting for an explanation.

I have no idea, Jenny said, gazing at her perfectly normal leg. But..., I need to go back into my house. I can’t explain it..., I just know it’s something I have to do. Jenny could hear her voice shaking, threatening to expose her confusion. You have to trust me. I’ll call you soon.

Jenny reached across the front seat giving her cousin a hug. She prayed Anne would be able to understand something she, herself did not. Stepping out onto the street, Jenny ran down the driveway towards her old house without a second thought to the streaks of dried blood on her leg.

~

Their lives had once filled the enormous house, now no one was home. Every room, hallway and staircase she remembered. Deep dark closets faded back into nowhere. The sculptured moulding surrounding every window and door commanded attention with its beauty and grace. She always loved that house. Large columns encased the tiled front porch and the sound of the children’s skates that had once glided back and forth, could still be heard. Crickity crack, crickity crack, the sound echoed in her memory.

The day was June 24, 1959. It was a hot and humid day. There weren’t many children playing outside for such a beautiful day. Her name was Jenny and she was the second child of four. Jenny had an older sister and two younger brothers. They knew each other better in those days. Jenny’s mother grew up in an orphanage and had said life was lonely as a child. She told Jenny that she never learned how to show her children love. Jenny did not know what she meant then, but she knew now. Her father was kind and gentle. Jenny thought he had secrets as he rarely spoke. She knew her parents loved her, but it wasn’t something that she felt. It was her old house on Oakland Street that loved her and it longed for her return.

Growing up in her old house on Oakland Street, Jenny recalled trivial moments. Like scenes from a movie endlessly replayed, or a broken record repeating its prior note. It had been years since Jenny lived in that house; now it consumed her every thought. She surrendered to the memories.

Massive willow trees fronted every house along the street. The children clambered through the thick heavy branches that extended above the street, contentedly lost in their own worlds. It was their shelter, their sacred domain. Life was simple and pure, there was no sin.

Sibling rivalry was an everyday occurrence in Jenny’s house. Bedroom doors were shields to outside enemies. Holly was Jenny’s older sister by two years. For as long as Jenny could remember, there was an awkward silence between them. She lived in the shadows of her older sister and felt that there was no one smarter or prettier than Holly. Everything about her was perfect, except, Jenny thought, their relationship. The bond between them was a collage of mixed and unsettled emotions.

Sammy was the jokester in the family. The sparkle in his mischievous eyes was only a reminder of his quick sense of humor. Jenny’s mother said Sammy had inherited his personality from his Uncle Harold, Anne’s father. There wasn’t anything that could keep Sammy and Uncle Harold apart at the many family gatherings. Even though Sammy was two years younger than Jenny, he grew miles taller than her.

Andy was the youngest of Jenny’s siblings. His dark sensitive eyes were the windows to his sweet and thoughtful personality; he could melt the hardest of hearts. As a child, his big round stomach was accentuated by his short legs and tight hand-me-down tee-shirts. Jenny often felt the need to protect her little brother and enjoyed having their bedrooms next to each other. Andy’s room was small compared to his massive closet that led to the attic. It was there, that Andy heard the voices that would keep him up at night. No one in the family believed Andy, except for Jenny. On the nights that Andy heard the soft whispers coming from the attic, Jenny used the skeleton key that her parents had given her to unlock the door between their two rooms. She would stay with Andy until the voices stopped and he had fallen asleep. Jenny had always loved her little brother.

Jenny was thirteen years old when her family moved miles away from the Oakland house. It was a tragedy beyond Jenny’s young comprehension. She remembered the car idling quietly in the driveway. Her siblings filed dutifully into the car while her parents sat waiting in the front seat. Jenny’s heart clung to the hope that it was all a horrible nightmare that she would soon wake from.

Jenny felt her legs buckle beneath the strain of her resistance to get into the car. A raw acid-like taste lodged in the back of her throat. Stepping back, Jenny turned and looked at her old house one final time. Her legs would not allow her to obey as she quickly pulled herself away from the car and ran up the front porch steps into her house. Climbing two steps at a time, Jenny rushed into her old bedroom, feeling the pounding of her heart. It was impossible to ignore the reality of her family sitting, waiting for her in the car. All sense of Jenny’s security died on that day; a free fall without a net.

The family moved to a small town near the beach approximately two hours north of the Oakland house. In theory, it sounded like a nice place to move, but Jenny found the house painfully small and in spite of her objections she shared a room with her sister, Holly. Jenny and her siblings grew up quickly and moved miles apart from each other. Jenny stayed in contact with Sammy, but as time slipped by they too rarely spoke and became mere strangers to one another. Jenny’s parents kept in contact with each of their four children and it was only through them that the siblings knew of each other’s lives.

~

For the past several weeks Jenny had been dreaming of her old house on Oakland Street. There was no logical reason to dwell on the past, but it seemed the harder she tried escaping from the memories, the stronger and more vivid the dreams became. It had been over ten years since Jenny had last seen her old house.

I really need to get away, Jenny mumbled walking into her office, which wasn’t anything more than a desk sitting in front of her apartment window that over-looked busy Cornwall Street in Kitsalano, Vancouver. Jenny decided she needed a much deserved break. She had been working six days a week and was exhausted. All the dreams were likely from being overly tired, Jenny thought. Within a few minutes of spontaneous planning, Jenny concluded that she would drive to Pasadena and visit with her cousin, Anne.

Looking at her schedule for the next several weeks, Jenny made the executive decision to rearrange all her appointments. She had started her own company as an interior designer and while appreciating the freedom of being her own boss; there was also headaches and responsibility.

I would love to see you! Anne’s voice cried through the phone. Jenny smiled at the thought of seeing her cousin again.

Okay, I’ll start packing and I’ll see you soon, Jenny said, not wanting to talk long. She would have to make the most out of the next several weeks. By her calculations, it would take her a good three days to drive from Vancouver to Pasadena. Jenny had never made the trip alone and had only gone down to California with her parents that were now living a few hours north of her. But now that Jenny was older there was no reason why she couldn’t make the drive by herself.

Jenny arrived at her cousin’s place earlier than she had expected. As Jenny had planned, she stopped at a motel in Oregon and Northern California. On the third day, Jenny made it to Anne’s house in the early morning and the two caught up on old news over a large pot of coffee.

Why don’t we go by your old house? Anne asked after Jenny had painstakingly described her recent dreams.

It might do me some good, Jenny had to admit. She loved seeing her old house. Even though Jenny was tired from driving, it was a short distance from Anne’s apartment to the Oakland house.

Closing her eyes, Jenny imagined every room, hallway and staircase. The large front entrance area was furnished with an old pump organ that Jenny and her siblings had often played. Reaching down, Jenny instinctively massaged her ankles at the memory of playing the old organ. As a child, her feet barely reached the pedals while she pushed her legs back and forth, creating the magical sound that permeated throughout the entire house. The grandfather clock was mounted on the wall near the massive staircase. Jenny could easily hear the soft beat of the clock ticking.

I’m sure whoever lives in your house wouldn’t mind if we ask to look around, Anne said, smiling. Jenny felt lost in a daze knowing there was nothing she would love more than to feel the house’s warmth surrounding her and bask in the security she had lost so long ago.

Jenny kept her eyes firmly on her old house, studying the once beautifully sculptured columns on the front porch. They had become splintered and frayed over the years with the paint peeling back exposing the water stained wood beneath. The impressive hand carved moulding that encased the front door and windows now appeared ragged and ignored. Her father had always taken such pride in their house and it pained Jenny to see it in such disrepair. The house had been painted a dull moss color with an ugly barn red trim. Even the elegant tiled front porch that stretched the width of the house with its massive concrete steps leading down the driveway was now sadly worn.

I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Jenny’s voice wavered. Her instincts warned her to stay away and yet the undeniable desire to see her old house was difficult to ignore.

Well alright, Jenny said, surprised at her quick change of heart. She smiled at her cousin’s expression while they opened the car doors in unison and walked down the long driveway towards the house. The spider web-like cracks that crept along the concrete intertwined to the bottom step that led up to the front porch.

The brass knocker on the front door was ice cold in Jenny’s hand. Feeling a trickle of sweat at the base of her neck, Jenny ignored the instinct to turn around and leave while they still had time. The house seemed to exhale a soft groan.

Did you hear that? Anne asked, wide eyed. Before Jenny could answer, the front door opened as if on its own. Jenny quickly released the brass knocker from her tight grip and wondered how anyone would have known they were there.

Hello, the petite woman said, standing in the entrance of Jenny’s old house. An awkward silence caught in the air. You must be Jenny. Jenny stared at the elderly woman, then over to the man standing at her side.

Yes, I am, Jenny stammered, but how do you know my name?

My name is Mrs. Johnstone and this is my husband, Mr. Johnstone. We’ve been expecting you. The old couple’s weathered faces beamed with delight and their eyes danced in exhilaration.

You’ve been expecting me? Jenny asked in surprise, looking over at her cousin, Anne.

No, what my wife means is that she is happy to have someone visit us, the old man said as his eyes narrowed, glancing at his wife.

The woman quickly extended her frail hand, nearly pulling Jenny into the familiar front entrance of her old house. A sudden sense of turmoil consumed Jenny. It wasn’t something that she could explain; only that her sensitivity had developed over the years and she often knew an outcome before the event took place or was aware of a conversation before it was spoken. Jenny had always felt there was a certain amount of energy radiating from her old house; but now, it was stronger, more powerful and on the verge of being angry. Dazed, Jenny stared across the entrance area into the living and dining room watching in awe as a brilliant white light playfully drifted throughout the interior walls.

Are you okay? Anne asked, looking at her cousin with concern. Jenny felt herself weave helplessly in and out of consciousness.

I’m fine, Jenny said. Taking a deep breath, Jenny turned her attention to the elderly couple. I hope we’re not bothering you. I lived here years ago and I have always missed this house. I hope you don’t mind, Jenny said apologetically. I would love to look around....if that’s okay with you.

The couple smiled and nodded their heads in agreement.

How do you like living here? Jenny asked.

You might say it’s been interesting, Mrs. Johnstone smiled.

Drawers in the kitchen fly open by themselves, Mr. Johnstone said, slowly nodding his head in agreement. The lights throughout the house often flicker on and off. Jenny and her cousin followed the elderly couple’s gaze as they slowly turned and watched the young girl walk into the room.

This is our granddaughter, Megan, Mr. Johnstone said. Megan’s parents died in a car accident when she was just a baby and we have been fortunate to bring her up ourselves. She calls us mommy and daddy, which suits us just fine. The little girl looked up at the old man, flinching at his words.

How old are you? Jenny asked, suddenly wanting their conversation to be something other than the oddities of the house. There was no reason to feel defensive about her old house, but her instincts were unexpected and Jenny suddenly felt the need to protect it.

Megan is four years old, Mrs. Johnstone said. Megan reached out and clutched the woman’s tattered apron as she attempted to stifle a yawn. She hasn’t been sleeping well, I’m afraid, Mrs. Johnstone sighed. The little girl’s bones protruded from her knit sweater and her face was pasty in color.

Over the past few weeks, she’s been hearing noises in the attic, Mr. Johnstone said. The thought seemed to bother the elderly man as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. We have told her there is nothing up there..., his voice trailing off, but she refuses to accept it.

Jenny casted her eyes down to the little girl and studied her small face.

Which bedroom belongs to you? Jenny asked, kneeling down