Hell Hill Manor

By Jason Payne

People always say that money and power buy everything. How about possession, pain, and death? In Hell Hill Manor you will witness a family struggle with the abnormal and paranormal things that go bump in the night. My question to you is, are you ready for a roller coaster ride of fear? A book in which you can't put down and when you do you have

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing Group
• Release date: Aug 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781641111867

Jason Payne

Jason Payne, a resident of Columbus, Ohio, is a security supervisor for Securitas Security Services. He is currently involved in the leadership of First Church of God?s youth ministry.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE FUNERAL

A

s the funeral bells tolled one single chime at a time. I was reminded of that old saying: they remind people of hell’s bells. I couldn’t help but visualize something evil coming to get my sister out of the casket and to take her away to hell. The only thing I knew as I remembered the last parts of her life was, that was not my sister that, was something evil. The church was as cold as a tomb; the heat was cracking in the radiators, which were old themselves. St. Peters was one of the oldest churches in the state. It was so cold that you still see your breath in there. I imagined the heating system was as old as the freaking church.

As the priest led the funeral mass, I looked around the church, I happened to take a general overview of everyone just to see who was who, to see how many people looked truly upset, and people that just felt they had to be there. It seemed to me most everyone was there because they had to be there.

My family is money. They would only cry if they lost their wallet. Other than that, their children could get hit by a bus, and they wouldn’t shed a tear unless someone was looking.

It’s was all for the show and the money. When it comes to the reading of the will they would be the biggest cry babies, it is about money, all about the money.

Father Paul was holding the funeral mass for my sister, and I was trying to hold back the tears. I was sitting next to my mother and my father. I wouldn’t get comfort or sympathy from them because there no money in it. I was sitting in the front row of pews, with my family, and I was in view of my sister, laid out in her favorite dress. The funeral parlor made her so beautiful., God knows she went through hell before she died.

Suddenly, we heard the pipe organ blasting a funeral hymn. The church bells started that wicked hell’s bells again. Then slowly, two altar servers walked in front of Father Paul. He was swinging a censer, smoking up the whole huge church with sweet smelling-incense. The cloud of smoke was amazing. If I known better, I would have called the fire department. It smelled good in there. It almost made want to blaze up some pot. On top of everything else, it was Father Paul’s off-key singing really took the cake for me.

I not a strict little church-going Catholic boy. I have a morbid sense of humor so did my sister. I wanted to bust out laughing. If my sister were sitting next to me, we both would have been on the floor laughing our asses off, and Mom and Dad would have been so pissed off. My sister and I were more about life than money. We could have cared less about that bullshit. We saw how it made our family into complete assholes, and we wanted nothing to do with it. We would rather be poor than be like that.

I wonder why I am think about this shit at my sisters funeral? I guess it is kept me from crying all over myself. Father Paul was smoking up my sister’s body like she has some kind of body odor but, I knew the real reason. My sister had been possessed by something the priest said was the devil. The exorcism had I know killed her, but the priest said that it was a release. How can you justify that? That was how he justified it.

As I sit there, if I blamed them. I had seen what they did for her. They did everything they could. I just had so many questions. I blamed my parents for not understanding the house we lived in the cause of a lot of our problems.

After the funeral mass was over, we all went to the cemetery for the graveside service. The whole time we were in the church, it had been pouring rain, thunder and lighting. This was a sign of something weird or evil either coming or going. The driver drove us to the cemetery for the service. There was massive flooding all over the place. We had to take detours and almost did not make it to the cemetery for the service. Luckily we had the priest with us in the car so we knew the service could not begin without us there. I wouldn’t think he would have anyway even if he would have arrived there first and had not seen us. We are the brother and the parents of the person that passed anyway. It took us twice as long to get there and we noticed that less than half the people that were at the church were at the graveside service.

We were at our family’ crypt, which the cemetery had opened for the service. When you have tons and tons of money comes equipped with a built in chapel for another service that can accommodate fifty people or more. It was huge and overpriced. It was the Taj Mahal of our town, the symbol of our money, wealth, and power. It was the symbol of an asshole. My mother and father don’t care for my burial wishes. I wanted to be cremated, not buried in that thing, and scattered at my grandparents’ property in West Virginia, I loved it there. My sister never wanted to go in that thing, but she never discussed it in full detail. She was only twenty-two when she died. At that age no one thinks that far ahead.

Mom and Dad were more worried about the condition of their Italian leather shoes when they got out of the car. Just as soon as they did, they were ankle deep in the mud as they got out. Mom lost her high heel. Dad was elbow deep in the mud trying to find it. I got out on Dad’s side. He found her shoe, and I started walking to the service area. Dad picked up Mom and carried her the rest of the way. He leaned over and asked me why I was not afraid to get my shoes messed up. I told him I wear western boots, nothing that some good cleaning tomorrow can’t fix. It was only up to my ankles. I scraped most of the mud off them before we went to the service. Dad looked at me with pure disgust like I cared anymore how he felt about me. Mom walked right in and grabbed her handkerchief for fake crying, and got to work. It was showtime for the priest. No one wants to look bad for the church.

The service went on without a hitch. The funny part was it seemed like as soon as they laid my sister to rest in her spot, the rainstorm stopped, like someone flicked a switch and turned the water off. I looked around the room and noticed Father Robert Cert in the corner. He had come to the graveside service, but not the church service. Mom and Dad were preoccupied with talking with other family, so I walked over to Father Cert and thanked him for coming. He seemed uneasy and out of touch with things, but he was still sociable.

How are you doing? How long will you be at the house? He said.

I won’t be there any longer than I need to be. I hate it there. I feel uneasy I always have. Besides, my family and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things" I said.

I see. Can you stop by and see me and Father Paul before you go?

Why? What do you need? I asked.

This is neither the time nor the place for this. Please stop by. We need to talk to you Marc!

He grabbed my shoulder and walked out the door. Father Paul looked at me.

Marc, we are worried about you. Like Father Cert asked, please come see us before you leave. We need to talk. Make sure you leave that house and don’t move back in. We will explain everything when we talk to you. I am sure you already know that there is something wrong with that house. Marc, please keep this conversation confidential. I don’t think your family would understand what we are talking about.

Of course I said

I knew more than ever that I wanted to talk to them. We needed to compare notes.

There was going to be a get-together or a wake at our home for my sister. I knew that was going to have a good turnout: everyone goes to something like that. Why not? Free drinks and food and a chance to talk about money made me want to puke.

My plan was to do my normal thing, grab a plate of food, see a few old family members, smile and grit my teeth, and then disappear to my room. My sister and I used to play a game of how fast we could eat and leave at these events. Then we would go to my room and make fun of our family by imitating them and making each other laugh. It would get so bad sometimes that my sister would pee herself laughing. Those are the things I am going to miss about her. We were close as brother and sister could be.

I felt the tears starting to come, but I quickly brushed my face to hide them from my family. We drove back to the church to drop Father Paul off. He saw me welling up but I was good at hiding my emotions. I have been doing it for years around my parental units. I looked over at my Mom and Dad, sitting there with mud all over their clothes. I still wanted to laugh. It was almost hysterical to see. My Mom was holding a five hundred dollar pair of shoes that are trashed because of the mud. My Dad wore only Italian leather dress shoes, and because he had walked in the mud, he looked like he had been working in the dump all week. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh.

When we arrived back at the house, it was hard to figure out if it was a wake or a plush dinner party. Mom and Dad had to go and change because of their disheveled condition. Orville the butler, met us at the door, Mom was always rude to him but I liked him. He was a nice man, and had been with the family ever since I could remember. I always thought he came with the house. I always used to joke with Orville. I would ask him, How’s it hanging? and he would always respond, in his English accent., At my age sir. a little shorter, and wrinkled than it used to be, to the left where I always have kept it, sir. Thank you for asking. Nice to have you home sir, I missed you!

I walked into the dining room where everyone seemed to have gathered. When I walked in, it seemed like I had disturbed the conversations, Maybe they like talking about me. Like I gave a shit. The only person that I cared about I had just laid to rest. So, I made sure that I walked over and greeted everyone just so I could make them look like assholes.

Father Reed came over in his own car, so he could drive home when he felt like it. Mom and Dad made their grand entrance as they came down, and everyone paid close attention to them. I could have dropped dead there in the middle of the room and someone would have stood on top of me to get a better look. Father Reed looked over at me and just rolled his eyes. He lowered his head and prayed. I guess he figured they needed a little more extra prayer than normal. Father Reed blessed the food, and then I saw him walk to the foyer and ask Orville for his coat. I walked up to him before he left.

Are you not going to stay for food and drink with these nice people? I asked.

I’m sorry, Marc. It’s not you, my son, or your company. It’s other things…spiritual things, that are getting to me. I must leave for now, Please understand and remember to come see us before you leave. Remember, please leave. He said

Don’t you worry about that, Father. I plan on it.

CHAPTER 2

WHERE IT ALL STARTS

I

went back into the wake after Father Reed left and grabbed a plate and watched while the family made assholes out of themselves. I was still sitting in the corner eating my food. I happened to see a distant cousin of mine that I have not seen in a long time, She was not having a good time either. She was, I thought beautiful. It’s wasn’t a good time and place to look for girls. She was so distant that she was no relation to me whatsoever. I think she was even through marriage also. I made eye contact with her, and she walked over to me and she came over and sat next to me.

Hi! I’m Morgan, do you remember me? Morgan Taylor. We met at the family reunion a few years back at Aunt Mary’s in California?

I sat there for a moment and played stupid like guys do sometimes. I started to remember the freckle-faced girl I was talking to then. I stood up and greeted her warmly.

Yes, how are you? I am sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I said

She laughed softly into her cloth napkin. She was so beautiful and sexy I found it difficult to talk straight without stuttering. I felt like she was way out of my class. She reached over and grabbed my arm and expressed how sorry she was for the loss of my sister. I thanked her, and I of course teared up. I couldn’t help but think about her. Morgan put her napkin on her lap and grabbed my hand and held it. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach.

I wanted to change the subject and find out more about our relationship as family.

So, Morgan. I asked, I don’t seem to remember how we are related because there are so many members of the family. How are we related again?

She smiled and said, We are, and we aren’t. I am a second cousin on your mother’s side somehow. But I am adopted. so I don’t think that makes a difference. Why do you ask?

I had a hard time looking her in the face after that question.

Morgan said, Oh my God. You were going to ask me out, weren’t you?

I just sat there red-faced. I looked back at Morgan.

I know this is the worst timing. I didn’t think I was going to run into someone I would like to date at my sister’s funeral, believe me. That would have been the last thing on my mind. My sister and I used to have the weirdest relationship. We were best friends, and we would find fun and excitement at the weirdest places at times. It would be just like my sister to have her let me find you here now.

Morgan laughed, and said, Nicki and I were good friends too. We went to school together; it wasn’t until a year ago that we found out that we were sort of from the same family. We talked about you all the time. She thought a lot of you like a best friend. I got to know you from her. When she told me stories about what you two used to get into., I developed a crush on you. She even kept trying to get me to ask you out, but I was too shy. She even gave me a picture of you. Now that I see you in person, well, in person, I have to say it is you’re a lot better than the picture. I sat there with my mouth I would imagine, was wide open. Morgan said Please, say something Marc.

I was so taken aback by the whole story. Nicki had never told me any of this.

I am so flattered that I don’t know what to say? I thought a girl like you, would never be seen with a guy like me. You are so beautiful, and so sexy. I couldn’t believe that it came out of my mouth. Oh shit! How could I have screwed up the perfect relationship in seconds? Nice job! Marc!

Morgan’s face turned red and she flipped her hair out of her face. She grabbed my hand and looked me in my eyes.

I am yours, if you want me as your girlfriend. I don’t know if you already have one or not? she said.

I quickly replied, Nope, I am single and free.

This is a beautiful, huge house.

I said, You like this house? It is beautiful. I grew up here. It has its problems and bad memories. Would you care for a tour? I grabbed Morgan’s hand and walked her