Lunacy

By Dwane Starkey

In the summer of 1990, a rural farmhouse was the setting of a violent tragedy that befell six local teenagers. 25 years later, a team of ghost hunters investigating claims of paranormal activity return to the house and discover it has a past even darker than they thought.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543925005

Book preview

Lunacy

© 2018 Dwane E. Starkey

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN: 978-1-54392-499-2

eBook ISBN: 978-1-54392-500-5

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Home Coming

Scene 1 Visitors

Scene 2 Graystone

Scene 3 Mr. Cutter’s Lament

Scene 4 Highways and Happy Meals

Scene 5 Almost Home

Scene 6 Home

Chapter 2 Knock Knock

Scene 1 Dead Nobs and Ghoulsticks

Scene 2 After Hours

Scene 3 What’s the Story Morning Glory

Scene 4 Oswald Gaylord

Scene 5 Let’s Get This Party Started

Scene 6 Hiking It

Scene 7 Is There Any Body Out There.

Chapter 3 Something Wicked, This Way Comes

Scene 1 Suspicious Minds

Scene 2 Mikey Likes It

Scene 3 Mixed Emotions

Scene 4 Funnel Cake

Scene 5 Want Fries With That

Scene 6 Little Red Book

Scene 7 Making A List And Checking It Twice.

Scene 8 With These Dreams

Chapter 4 They’re Here

Scene 1 House Of Wax

Scene 2 Castle Graystone

Scene 3 The Event Horizon

Scene 4 Into the Void

Scene 5 Once Remembered

Scene 6 Redemption

Chapter 5 June 4 2016

Scene 1 Ice Tea And Better Days

Chapter 1

Home Coming

In the twilight I am there. As the sun sank below the horizon, I closed my eyes. The smell of stagnant water from the lily pond dissipated with the heat. The scent of the purple sage floated in with the evening breeze. Fireflies danced in the summer night like fairies in a magic kingdom. Their weary trails floated up into the ether, getting lost amongst a blanket of stars. She was with me. My Love . Her golden hair reflecting in the moonlight, her eyes wild and full of wonder, glowing. I smelled her scent and reached up, touching her silky hair. She fell into my arms. My hands trembled with the pounding of my heart. I could feel her warm breath on the crook of my neck. She spoke. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make out the words; she faded into the darkness .

The end was always the same. I return and I cry . For years I did not remember anything. I was told that was common with traumatic memories. Your mind blocks out events that you can’t handle. But they may return, sometimes in dreams.

My dreams are usually void, maybe it is the medication. The doctors like to keep me zombied up. They think I’m some kind of threat. They said I’m a paranoid schizophrenic that has suffered a homicidal break. I do not remember hurting anyone. Sometimes when I close my eyes I can hear screams but never any memories. It’s like watching TV with the video off and sound up. It’s been that way for years; then five years ago, I had a flashback of the night Debbie and I spent in the pasture. The last night. After the flashback ends, I remain filled with feelings of emptiness, loss and an unspeakable, paralyzing fear.

The memories I do have are becoming more vivid, more horrific. I can see the house, that evil fucking house. Not the main one, but the small servants’ quarters, behind the main house. Its own free standing structure,vacant and unlivable long before our visit. Something dark was there; it had been dormant for a long time but that summer in 1990 it wanted our attention. I feel its presence again even though I’m locked behind concrete and steel a hundred miles away, I feel it . It wants its due once more. My fear is that I will see what my mind has deemed too horrible to remember. I can feel the malevolence. Feel it calling . Feel it coming like a storm in the distance . A dark terrible storm on the horizon. It’s winds the howls of pain. Its rain,tears and blood. It’s coming. I know it’s coming.

Dennis Cutter 03:20AM 09/03/2015

Graystone Psychiatric Center Morrison NJ

Scene 1 Visitors

Where are we going? Jessica asked from the back seat. Grant could see her in the rear view mirror. Her curly long black hair covered her face as she dug into the paper bag. She was wearing a light blue track suit. It clung to her slender frame. Dark blue piping on the arms and legs gave the suit definition. She pulled a foil wrapped sandwich from the bag. Her head came up and her eyes met his in the mirror. In the early morning light they were the shade of root beer candy. Her tan face brightened as she smiled. If they had not been friends for so long she could have accused Grant of checking her out. Instead she shot him a toothy grin and a wink.

This better be good. You have me up at seven am on my day off, Mike said. He turned to Jessica. Hey pass me mine before you start eating. Where did you learn your manners, at a boarding house? Mike’s barrel-shaped body rolled towards the center console. He wasn’t fat. But gone was the nerdy, scrawny 98-pound body he had at nineteen when Grant met him. Now he could be described as stocky and of average height. Today he wore his usual Yankee shirt and matching cap. The cap has not left his head in public since he started losing his hair at the age of 37.

I should lick it first, Jessica said, as she handed Mike his egg on roll.

And the Yoo-hoo Mike demanded.

God a Yoo-hoo, what are you twelve, Jessica said passing up the bottle Grant, do you want your roll?

Not yet, it’s a bit of a drive, Grant said. He turned the burgundy Chrysler minivan on to 287.

NJ, did we get a new ghoul house. Jessica asked.

In a way, today we are doing an interview, Grant said.

Who, Springsteen? Mike chimed in.

This guy is not the boss, but pretty famous or more like infamous Grant said.

Who already Jessica asked

Dennis Cutter. A smile appeared on Grants face.

Dennis fucking Cutter, Jessica screamed. Mike put a hand over his ears.

Jesus Christ, Jess, Mike said.

But how? He’s never spoken to anyone, Jessica said.

The hospital is closing next month and he’s being relocated, it’s now or never. Besides maybe he’ll remember me, Grant said.

I forgot you two went to the same school, Jessica said.

I’m hoping after twenty five years he might want to reminisce.

Lord knows he missed the last two class reunions, Mike said slamming his Yoo-hoo and letting out a loud burp.

Pig, Jessica said.

Better this end than the other one, wait till that egg hits on the ride home, Mike said. Speaking of ride home, what makes you thing we can even get in the building?

"I met his doctor at Comic Con last month. Get this, he’s a fan, he wouldn’t really speak about the case but said Dennis may or may not be remembering things.

Wink, wink, nudge, nudge." Grant put his hand back for his buttered roll.

Do you think he wants a book or a book movie? Mike asked, rolling the window down.

Christ, Mike. Jessica quickly rolled her window down and held her nose.

Not my fault, the egg was runny, Mike said.

I’m not sure, I think he may actually believe something went on, but he’s a little afraid to speak out without evidence. Grant looked back and forth at Jess and Mike as if trying to convince them. He has been Cutter’s Shrink since it happened

We’re already sold, Jess said. Can we film on the farm?

The Keaton family has left it untouched since the murders. The mother died in April. The son, Brian, is putting it up for sale, but not before he lets yours truly conduct an investigation. It pays to keep in touch with your high school buddies. Grant’s smile grew wider.

Is he asking for money? Mike said

Nope, he just asked that we treat the memories of the victims and the property with respect. Grant paused. Especially if we find the remains of Debbie Meyer."

They never did find her, Mike said

Nope and Dennis never admitted to killing anyone. Did I tell you we dated once? Grant said

You and Dennis? Jess said

No smart ass, me and Debbie, before Dennis. She was a great girl.

Wasn’t she three years older than you guys?

Like I said she was a great girl.

Well finding her spirt will be easy, just find a cradle, she’ll be robbing it, Jess snickered.

Jess, it was only three years.

Three years at 30 is nothing, three years at 19 is a slut.

Oh God, take it easy, Mrs. Garret, Grant said.

To get back on track, did Brian say anything about the property? Mike asked.

No, Brian said he had only been there once, just before his father first bought it in June 1990. It was supposed to be a summer retreat with stables for added income. They were still interviewing stable staff when everything happened, Grant said.

They were twins, right? Jess said.

Yeah, Laura and Brian were twins

I don’t know if I believe a twin didn’t go see the place where the other died. Jess crinkled her nose. It is suspicious.

Well I know he didn’t do it, I was with him that weekend in Wildwood when he received the news. The kid was crushed

How’s the property held up over the last 25 years? Mike asked.

A local handy man has been doing the up keep. A few teen’s spray painted the side once and broke a few windows. But now the local police keep an eye on it. Brian called ahead and told the chief of police that we would be there this weekend.

Look at you assuming that we have no social life, Mikes said

Mike, we have no social life, Jess said

Yeah well, can’t just assume these things. Mike looked out the window and the car fell silent.

Scene 2 Graystone

Holy shit, is that Graystone? Jess asked. Fucking medieval.

The gray gothic building loomed at the end of the long tree-lined asphalt road, casting a foreboding shadow across the main field. A crow’s nest that sat atop the center tower that speared the azure blue sky. In the reflection of the windshield, Jess watched Grant’s gray eyes scan the castle-like structure. She could almost hear his thoughts.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, she said. Grant locked his eyes with hers.

Just what I was thinking.

Looks like the Munster’s house on crack. At least parking is easy, Mike said.

Grant pulled the Minivan into the first row of cars. The late summer day breeze caressed their shoulders as they crossed the parking lot. Grant stopped at the security booth where a burly Irish security guard sat. He looked like a cartoon ape wedged in his ill-fitting gray uniform. His ginger hair barely fit under his eight- point cap.

Grant Huges, Mike O’Brian, and Jessica LaCroix here for Dr. Brennan, Grant said. The security guard picked up the phone and called a number.

Yes sir, I’ll tell them. The guard hung up the phone.

Here comes the brush off, it was all geek love at Comic Con and now that he sobered up we’re coyote ugly, Jess said.

You speak like you’ve had a lot of experience, Mike snickered holding in a laugh.

Jess shrugged. I have a few regrets, I’m 38 and single, it’s allowed.

The security guard handed them three visitor passes. Dr. Brennan will be out in a minute. With the move we’re a little shorthanded.

A few minutes later, Dr. Brennan walked out the door. He was about 5,07 late in his forty’s but still had that hansom youthful face. His smile was bright and Inviting. He wore a casual light blue pullover and brown kakis.

Grant, nice to see you. Brennan held out his hand to Grant. He turned to Mike and Jessica. John Brennan, he said, as he extended his hand.

Follow me guys, I’ll walk you in. They followed John into the large cathedral entrance. Their footsteps echoed in the empty white-tiled halls. The stinging smell of shit and antiseptic blew around the room in alternating gusts.

We’re closing in soon. Dennis is one of the last clients we have left. He is maximum security based on the seriousness of the crimes. But he has always been a model patient, never so much as an outburst, Brennan said.

He’s never been tried, Jess said.

No, there is no real evidence that ties Dennis to the crime, but sadly he was convicted in the court of public opinion,Dr. Brennan said. Unless Dennis confesses or the person who did this is found, Dennis Cutter will remain the scape goat and will spend the rest of his life in an institution like this. Don’t get me wrong, Dennis is mentally unstable, he can go catatonic for months at a time.

That’s so sad. Why is he still here? Jess asked.

No one wants to live next to the real life Michael Myers, even if he’s not. Brennan lead them around to another hall and stopped at a security cage. All keys, weapons, pens, and anything else except your clothes gets left here.

Tape recorders? Jess asked.

Sorry but they are not allowed. Brennan rolled his shoulders Guess they’re afraid we might burst into song, but don’t worry Dennis won’t say more than you can remember, he never does. The security guard unlocked the gate and them let in. After closing the gate, he gave them each one a light pat down. Brennan walked them down the hall to another gate.

Don’t worry, you won’t get felt up at this one. Brennan nodded his head and the guard looked down the hall; seeing the first gate was locked, he opened his gate.

"So, Dr. Brennan, do you believe Dennis’s story about the supernatural occurrences and that some sort of spirit possession was responsible for the murders? Jess said.

"Dennis never said who committed the murders and