The House of Slumbers: 13 Steps, #2

By Charlie Glasgow

Imagine a house filled with ghosts after a tragic fire. A fire that destroyed a coven and not a single church in town would grant them buriel rights on sacred ground. 13 angry souls wreaked havoc along with some demons that nearly destroyed a small town in downstate Illinois and demanded payback. An army of the dead marched across the midwest and ended in a battle for every man, woman and child amongst the living and the dead. The house was locked up for fifty years and the spirits were quiet for awhile. Then two doctors happen upon the mansion and decide to open a sanitarium for the wealthy. The dead will awaken and come back to take what is theres at any cost! The battle is far more deadly this time and characters have returned from the past and graveyard to pick sides in ths last battle for humanity. So lock the doors and turn out the lights. Check under your bed and pray that the dead stay in their graves tonight!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie Glasgow
• Release date: Jul 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393489214

Charlie Glasgow

  Charlie grew up on the banks of the Mississippi River in a spooky old house surrounded by old mansions throughout the city of Quincy, Illinois. This is book number five and several are still coming. Phoeniz, Arizona is now home to this well traveled musician and writing is a love that was reignited after a thirty-five year pause. 

Book preview

Chapter One

Love at First Sight

If memory serves me right, it was a bright spring day and my morning walk brought me to a house on the North side of Quincy. The street itself named for the large mass of Elm trees that lined the cobblestone road and the buds were taking shape along with the flowers that cropped up in flower beds and boxes that lined the porches and windows of the large homes on either side of the street. The shape of the house was so symmetrical and the front porch lined with three rows of French windows next to a double door entrance and modest front porch. The same windows adorned the second story with dormer style windows in the attic just above. The odd shaped roofing tiles of the mansard roof were rounded on the bottom and shot straight up at a slight angle. A beautiful cupola with colored windows adorned the center of the house with brick chimneys on every corner of the roof. A simple staircase in the front bank of thirteen steps allowed access to the street and a post out front with a lion’s head and brass ring to hold the reins stood close for buggies to park.

This was a home that was designed with old school thinking and I begged to wonder what was behind that massive set of doors? My time was my own for the next thirty minutes before driving to the hospital and starting my rounds. I discovered a sign in the front window that listed the home for sale and climbed the steps for a closer look. I would find out more about this house after work and see if I could set up a viewing for a later time. Standing on the front porch, I felt the pull of the structure inviting me inside with whispers of greater things to come. I peered inside the front window and could see very little. I tried the doorknob and the house opened up to me with a long wailing creak of the front door. I stepped halfway in the entrance and yelled a hallo before moving forward. Perhaps a property manager or workman had left the door unlocked by accident, but I couldn’t resist taking a quick peek around for myself. The house was empty of any furniture or belongings, but I could sense activity moving about in every room. My shoes were loud on the hardwood floors and I felt like I was waking the house from a long lost slumber. The chandelier that hung from the living room was covered partly by a white sheet and the fireplace mantle held a large mirror above with another sheet. Paintings had hung on these walls for quite a few years and left the fade marks after they were taken down.

The dining room had a build out in the windows and must have held a seating area to look out on the East side of the property. The kitchen was well equipped and the water was still turned on. The plumbing made some noise as I turned on the tap water and a few pipes protested loudly from inside the walls and the water was of a dark rust color that soon cleared. More rooms in the back that must have been bedrooms were part of a later addition with a servants’ staircase winding up from the rear of the kitchen. I found it a bit narrow and dimly lit, but turned my attention to the front of the house where I had spotted a grand staircase that would be worth a casual entrance to the ball. I walked the steps up to the second floor and grabbed the sturdy railing in case the steps might be in question. No good suffering a painful broken leg and all alone in this empty house. 

The steps were sturdy and the climb was easy, but soon distracted by the nagging feeling that I was not alone in this large and empty house. I stopped halfway up the staircase and sensed something coming out of the basement behind the kitchen. It made its way from the back of the house and swept up the stairs towards me. I felt it wrap itself around me as it poked and prodded to know me. I felt the goose bumps rise up on my arms and neck as it glided up the stairs and moved through other rooms. The house was as still as could be and there were no drafts or open doors or windows. I stopped for a second and let the odd feeling pass as I’ve always been a man of science and wrote it off to a phenomenon or lack of proper breakfast. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I walked down the wide hallway and checked from room to room for any disturbance. Not a single thing that raised any concern and I found the door to the attic was locked with no skeleton key in sight. I worked my way back down to the first floor again only slightly disappointed that I had not seen the attic and with no lantern to view the basement, I would save this for another time as well.

Leaving through the front door, I walked around the property once to get a feel for the yard when I heard a commotion of banging coming from inside the house. The sound of slamming doors echoed through the empty house and I once again felt no wind, so an explanation would be forthcoming with the real estate agent. Checking the time, I took one last look at this home before heading back to my apartment and driving to work for the day. I was amazed at the condition of the interior of the house as it showed no signs of age. This would be my lucky fortune indeed!

Iwas distracted the entire day at work and thought about the house at 401 Elm Street with the excitement a child enjoys before getting a new puppy.  I nearly bumped into people, patients and staff as my lack of attention suffered throughout my shift. At lunchtime, I called the number that I’d written down and spoke with an older gentleman who practiced law down by the courthouse. He said the property had been vacant a number of years by the previous owner who wished it to remain empty. Her husband had passed and they owned the property across the street that the deceased husband grew up in. Arriving home that evening, I dialed the phone number and spoke with a friend from back in school. We had dreamed of opening up our own hospital someday and I wanted to bounce some ideas off of him in regard to relocating to our fair city for a new opportunity. For the time being, he would make travel arrangements when the time was right and make the transition in a few months so we could get the ball rolling.

Money was not an issue and I had spare time. I had thrown myself into my profession as a medical doctor and learned much about holistic healing on the side. My friend studied psychiatry back east and I thought that we would make a great team at our own clinic. My wife and daughter had passed away three years earlier in an automobile accident and left me very alone in the world to mourn and then heal. I stayed busy and pondered the healing of others in a town that lacked a proper facility other than the city hospital and one-man clinics. Dave and I corresponded on a regular basis and even spent some time at a resort in Maine during the early fall when I felt up to traveling. Dave was a real friend and we went back to college days with more than a few tales to tell.

I told him that I would take care of the finances and oversee what changes would have to be made to ensure a proper medical facility and still keep the building up to code per the city fathers. My first visit to the lawyer led me to a requested visit to the widow who still resided across the street from 401 Elm. The lawyer said she insisted on speaking to me before we could draw up any papers, so I called and she said this evening would be fine for a chat and some tea. Stopping over that evening, I met Jenny Humbart for the first time and we sat down in a nicely decorated living room where she served us both hot tea and sugar cookies. I looked through the front windows at the house across the street and wondered how they could have settled for this smaller home.

Jenny returned from the kitchen with the tea and cookies and sat down in her favored chair. She looked over at the chair on the other side of the end table and smiled sweetly before addressing me. This seemed more of a habit than looking at a ghost of her late husband.

Doctor Davis, she started. I’m not sure where to start, but I suppose the very beginning might help to illuminate the history of the house across the street and why my late husband and I decided to keep it vacant all these years.

I nodded my head while sipping on tea that was far too hot for drinking, but suitable for dunking cookies.

My name is Jennifer Humbart and Theodore is my late husband. Everybody called him Teddy and he was a newspaper writer for many years here in Quincy. He grew up in this very house and suffered a horrible loss when his younger brother Steven wandered across the street in the middle of the night to the property you’re looking at. Some bricks were stacked close to the edge and fell from the roof during its early construction and took that sweet boys life. Teddy never got over it, but did have some closure later on.

Is this why you didn’t live in the home? I asked.

Oh heavens no! Jennifer tittered. There is so much more to this story and I’ll try to keep it brief. The first person to die on that property was a workman named Bradley Smothers who did some beautiful work around the property. They called him the Tin Man due to his fine craftsmanship and his brash personality. He was a fine Irishman who they say still walks the halls of that home to this very day. I couldn’t say for sure, but Teddy said he met the man as a ghost!

How did he meet his death Mrs. Humbart? I asked

Please call me Jenny young man! she gushed. I remember that Teddy said it was a fall from the roof and something gave him an awful fright that day. The doctor said the fall didn’t kill him and it was a heart condition that brought about his end. Anyway, the original builder of this home was Amos Bergenfield and he had lost his family back in Germany before traveling to America and starting over. The story goes that he started a Satanic cult that involved Teddy’s parents and many of the neighbors from this area when it was a well to do section of town. Apparently the owner had kidnapped several people down on Front Street and tortured them for his paintings. All of his work was lost later as a horrible fire consumed the house and the entire coven inside the attic. Teddy was in the house when the fire erupted and was cited with rescuing two slaves who had been held captive by Mr. Bergenfield. He was just about to sacrifice the two men when a detective broke into the attic and shot the old fool. He sent Teddy from the house with the slaves to get help and told him to lock the attic door behind him. Teddy had terrible dreams for years about that detective and felt guilty for locking him and his parents behind.

I was able to sip on my tea by now and my mouth was already hanging open in disbelief. Even a man of science has to react to such a horrible story as this.

Shall I continue? Jenny asked.

I nodded aggressively and was pulled into this story enough to want to hear the end.

Okay Doctor, she replied back with a small grin. "The folks numbered thirteen who died in that fire and this would be the number of a coven. The detective would number fourteen, but the deaths were a horrible story for a budding town like Quincy. The detective was buried with honors while the coven was not buried until later in the year. The coven was not allowed to be buried on hollowed ground and not a single church would allow a funeral inside their walls. One lone funeral director came forward and agreed to a ceremony inside his place up on 601 Spring Street. We ended up becoming friends with him and Mr. Drake has some unique gifts that I will share with you another time. Anyway, the members of the coven were buried in a cemetery just outside of town and kept there for over twelve years. A strange battle occurred between a man named Simon who was closer to the devil himself! He had planned on a battle between the living and the dead and other bizarre things happened that brought Teddy’s little brother Stephen back into the story. When the battle was near over, the coven had all returned back to the house across the street which they claim is cursed. I can testify on a stack of bibles that I believe it to be so. 

Simon held my son and myself hostage in the attic that same day and held sway over my husband. Teddy nearly killed us both under Simon’s influence, but Stevie and a ghost named Elijah stopped him just in the nick of time! Simon vanished and we left that house with the promise of never living there again.

Teddy and I agreed that nobody should live at 401 Elm Street and we’ve tried to have it blessed, but the priests all run out of the house scared to death and ill. It’s been nearly fifty years and then some and between you, the walls, and me we’ve heard doors slamming at odd times of the night! Screams of terror rang out on the eve of Christmas. People have broken into the house a few times and come ah running out the door with their pants on fire. We don’t even bother locking the front door these days as the locals won’t dare walk in this house. There is so much more to this story, but we’ll save that for another evening. I just wanted you to hear most of it before spending your hard earned money on bad property."

I thought about it and asked if Ms. Jenny was a God fearing woman. She replied of course and after what she had gone through while living in that house herself.

Mrs. Humbart, I replied. I appreciate your dire warning and hair raising tale, but I am a man of science. I don’t believe in God and I sure don’t believe in the devil. As startling and jarring as this may sound, I only believe what I can measure with my instruments of science and would have no issue with staying in the house or living there! Name your price and we can start the process of buying and selling a home! I do hope you’ll have me over here for tea again and perhaps you can share more of these delightful tales with me!

Jenny put her cup of tea down and smiled. I would be happy to sell to you, but don’t say I never warned you properly young man. I’ll put a call in to my lawyer and we’ll draw up papers with the bank. I just wanted to share one more thing. The original owner set up a trust for the house that must be honored by all tenants or buyers. Mr. Durant will be happy to go over the proceedings and I think you’ll be most delighted with the price. I can’t tell you how much myself, but he’ll take care of all the details.

Just one more thing that is bugging me. I said. I did take a look inside the house already after finding the door unlocked. I hope you don’t mind my taking such liberties?

Heavens no sir! laughed Jenny. I watched you from my window and wondered how long you might last inside. Did you find anything unusual in your scientific methods?

Well, I pondered. I heard the water pipes banging in the wall, but that’s pretty common. I felt a curious cold draft on the grand staircase and after I left the house, I heard doors banging inside while I walked the grounds. Were there workmen inside the home?

No sir, Jenny said in a flat tone. Not had anybody working around the property in years except for a man who keeps the weeds and grass trimmed for a hefty price. None of the kids in the neighborhood will go near that place.

Just out of curiosity Jenny. I asked. Every door in the house was open or unlocked including the front entrance. When I got to the second story, I found that the attic door was locked up tight as a drum.

Jenny took a nervous look at the home across the street and put a hand on my arm. Doctor, she said softly. "My late husband kept that door locked ever since the last day he stepped in that house. After he moved my son and myself out, he went back over by himself a few times for odds and ends. He said he heard voices coming from the attic that wanted to be let out. He said the voice claimed to be Blackbeard and then would change its voice to his brother Stevie. He locked the attic door and then nailed it shut. It’s not been opened in over fifty years now. Truth be told, I hear things and voices drifting over to my side of the street, but I just close my eyes and block it out. That’s just what Teddy taught me to do and it’s worked for half a century. 

I thanked Jenny and left my business card before departing for my apartment. I took another long look at the house and left so I could pass this delicious information onto my friend back east! He would surely get a good laugh from this testimony of our soon to be hospital.

It wasn’t long before I had dealt with Jenny’s lawyer and the banker who approved me later in the day. The title was signed over on the condition that I would stay in the property for the next ten years and all repairs or maintenance would be taken care of per the will of Amos Bergenfield.  The lawyer who handled the Bergenfield mansion over the years would remain on as overseer until I was able to pass the