That house on Falcon has spirit

That House of Falcon has Spirit

By: Roger Alderman Jr.

The jail’s private guest meeting room smelled of sweat and mildew were the first things Paul Andersen noted when he entered. That odor was quickly trumped by the stench that came from the old inmate sitting in his aged wheelchair. The old man wore tattered prison blues and a stained off-white undershirt. His face was worn and dark from prolonged exposure to the sun from the recreation yard. 

The old inmate, Glenn, stunk of body odor and urine. Paul noted a small slow flowing stream coming from the lower corner of Glenn’s catheter bag. Glenn’s pant leg was wet with urine from the improperly placed catheter. This resulted in a slow leak from his penis as urine built up. Paul realized that the medical staff of a prison had little time to deal with such things.   

The inmate was covered in a blue warming blanket that had definitely not been washed in the past few weeks. Paul watched as bugs roamed across the surface of the blanket and no doubt below as well. Glenn scowled at the man standing across from him, “What the fuck do you want? They said you were my attorney.” Glenn clearly did not like being disturbed and thought to himself, who is this fucking guy? Especially by some clown in his white button-down shirt and black slacks.

“I am here as part of an investigation,” Paul sat down on the chair across the metallic green and rust covered table. “What investigation?” Glenn demanded. “When I talked to the Sheriff’s deputy he said you can tell me about Port Saint John Florida,” Paul started. Glenn nodded and cleared his throat.

 “Sure, I suppose, I lived in Port Saint John Florida nearly all my life,” Glenn said with a tone of remorse building in his voice. The sickly old man shifted in his wheelchair under the filthy warming blanket, as the younger man examined his statement for red flags. Paul flattened his mustache with his right hand careful to not jab himself with his medium tipped blue ink pen. “Okay, Glenn, what can you tell me about the house on Falcon?” Paul pointed at Glenn with his pen in hand.  

 “What’s your interest in that old place?” Glenn glared clearly offended by the young man’s presence. Paul looked down at his yellow legal-sized tablet to quickly remind himself of the bullet point he needed to cover with Glenn. “I and My team were asked to help a young couple that moved into your family’s old home,” Paul found himself pleading with the unhappy older man. “What’s that got to do with me,” Glenn demanded. Paul stood up and stretched, “Look last night was a long night for us. We need you to tell us about your time there? Can you help? Or am I wasting my time?”

Glenn glared at the impatient man as he clenched his liver-spotted fists under the blue blanket. Paul walked to the locked metal door and signaled the guard through the small thick glass window. Paul turned to face the old man in the wheelchair, “Last chance, Glenn, once I leave no one will ever believe your story.” Paul banged on the metal door then he turned to face Glenn, “Just as some small-town psychopath. That should have been executed for all the lives you took. Is that how you want to be remembered?”

 “Everyone knows I got cancer and I’ll be dead before eighty-eight. Why bother?” Glenn asked shaking his head dismissive of the memories that begin to come forward in his thoughts. Paul watched the angry old man’s face become mournful even though his words still lashed out at the world that judged him without understanding.

“Fine. Paul, is it? Ask your questions,” Glenn snapped unclenching his fist. A nurse entered the room carrying a small cup of water and a medicine cup with pills. She moved past Paul to deliver the medicine to Glenn. He watched as the old man swallowed the pills followed by the water from the other cup. The old man opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. To allow the nurse examined his mouth to ensure the medicine was consumed.

Glenn scowled as he watched the nurse leave the room, “Well, got about thirty minutes before those pills turn me into a vegetable again best get started.” Paul nodded, sat down, readied his tablet and pen, “Okay, let’s talk about that night.” “No.” Glenn snapped. Paul’s face held growing confusion, “No? but you said…” Glenn interrupted,” if we’re gonna do this we need to start at the beginning of the story. Not at the end of it.” Paul nodded in agreement to the purposed conditions.

Glen began, “My father had the house built on that property back in nineteen seventy-four after my father’s company moved us to be closer to the space center. Previously he was a flight mechanic in the United States Air Force during the Korean War and his skill set helped him find employment quickly with a private contract firm. His job had him testing the parts sent to NASA for various space flight craft.” 

Glenn smiled as the early memories brought him back to the happiness of the time. Paul interrupted, “Your Mother? Nancy, right?” ‘Do you want to tell the story?” Glenn scowled at Paul remark. Paul raised his open palm to Glen, “Sorry, please continue.”

Glenn shook his head in disappointment and cleared his throat, “Mom was happy to move she never liked the people of our previous neighborhood. She was the kind of person who loved to travel and learn new things. She found work as a seamstress and was always at her happiest in front of the sewing machine.”

Paul interrupted again, “Your sister Maybell, told us that Nancy, your mother, had developed a drinking problem. She claimed it all started with your Dad’s long hours at the Space Center.” Glenn threw the empty water cup at Paul, “Don’t you ever say another word about my mother or I’ll!” Glenn stopped himself as an expression of terror filled Paul’s face due to his outburst. “I’m sorry. I just…” Paul pleads with Glenn. Glenn waved off the apology, “Look if you interrupt me one more time this whole thing is over. I’m sure another reporter will try to get this story from me.”

Paul recoiled at the elderly man’s words, “Wait you think I’m a reporter?” “You said you were an investigator,” Glenn looked confused. “We’re paranormal investigators, Glenn. Not newspaper investigators.” Glenn recoiled in his wheelchair, “The hell is that?” “We investigate claims of the supernatural. You know like ghosts, possession, and stuff,” Paul added. “That shits not real. You kids watch too many movies,” Glenn scoffed.

Paul exhaled and examined his notepad again, “Glenn, I need you to understand I am here to help you.” Glenn became angry, “What makes you think I want your help? You ever think maybe I’m happy here?” Paul recoiled at the verbal assault, “Calm down I need your help to help the family that not lives in your old house.” “Fuck them! They should have never moved in! That was our house!” Glen blasted and reached for Paul. Paul was thankful that Glenn was bound to his chair in the form of metal bracelets. 

“Ask your questions or fuck off,” Glenn flopped back into his wheelchair. “Okay, Glenn, I need you to think back to the house on Falcon.” Glenn exhaled loudly and sneered at Paul, “Fine, we lived there for years, but no Ghost or any of that bullshit you’re talking about.” “Good, but I need you to really focus on that last week or so of your time there. Can you do that for me?” Paul begged. “Yeah, I suppose, but you know. All these questions about the house. Why are all of you so interested in it?” Glenn asked.

“How many other people have talked to you about it?” Paul’s brow furrowed as his concern grew. “Several. They all said the same thing that they would help me get out of this place and blah-blah-blah. But no one has helped me yet,” Glenn declared. Paul made notes after the reveal of information from the inmate’s words. “Great let's just focused on the last week or so you were there. That way we’re not just saying the same old thing,” Paul explained. Glenn jutted out his bottom lip and nodded in agreement. 

 “The last week when everything went down were very rough on the family. Mom and dad’s relationship had fallen apart. She was drinking and arguing constantly. Dad was raging and we were getting hit for no reason,” Glenn admitted with building remorse and rage starting to stir. “Just focus on your story for me. Don’t let your emotions drag you away from sharing your tale,” Paul reminded the old inmate. 

“They were set for divorce, but dad always threatened that if he could not have us then no one would,” Glenn studied Paul face for insight into his line of questions, but none was to be found, yet… “So, he openly told you about his plan to kill your family?” Paul quickly wrote on his notepad. “Yeah, but I didn’t think he meant it, you know I thought it was just a threat. No real intention, but I guess I was wrong,” tears streamed from the corner of Glenn’s weathered old blue eyes. “What happened next,” Glenn exhaled, “well I guess everyone knows what happened.”

Paul flipped the page of his notebook stopping on an empty sheet, “Please, Glenn, continue.” Glenn wiped at his tears, “Friday Night. It was a great day I was excited to come home and show my folks my report card. It was not perfect, but it was definitely an improvement over the last one.” Paul took off his glasses and wiped at the corner of his eyes, “So, you came home and what happened next, Glenn? Think real hard about it try and remember what actually happened at that house.” Glenn looked confused by the remark.

Glenn lowered his head as his eye darted back and forth, “That’s when I walked into the house and found her. My mother lay on the floor face down just inside the doorway. The wood floor was sticky with the blood that had left her body. I was in shock and wanted to cry, but that’s when I heard Nancy scream for help.” Glenn’s attention snapped up to Paul anger claimed his body language. Paul pushed away from the table. 

“That son of a bitch had her hiding in her room from him. I saw him in the hallway ax in hand. The door had little left of it and I knew he would kill her too. That’s when I rushed him, “Glenn slammed his fist on the arm of his wheelchair. The whole room seemed to shake. Paul looked around and wrote again on his tablet. “I grabbed the ax handle and we fought for control of it. I looked into my dad’s face and it was not him. I mean it was his body, but his face was twisted and full of rage,” Glenn clenched his hands as if he was holding the ax again. 

Paul began to smell the pungent metallic stench of blood filled his nostrils. The walls quivered as he began to look around the room. “Okay, Glenn, I get it your angry, but I need you to calm down for me. We don’t want anyone else getting hurt.” Glenn glared at Paul, “What the fuck are you talking about. Other than my dad I have not hurt anyone.” Paul stepped away from the table and to the door. 

Glenn’s feeble hands shook as he held them above his head, “Get back here you wanted the story. Let’s finish this! Why won’t you people leave me alone?” Paul looked back at Glenn and was floored. Glenn’s features began to shift and change. Glenn was suddenly much younger was holding a long-handled wood ax in hand. “Okay, Glenn, let’s calm down now,” Paul attempted to get control over the situation. Glenn suddenly stood up from the wheelchair, “My family died that night. Why does everyone keep fucking with me about this.” 

Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Glenn, your father, and mother did die, but…” “I know that!” Glenn stomped across the floor towards Paul. Paul could feel Glenn’s hot breath as he stood before him. “The family that lives in your old house called us because the house is haunted by a violent ghost!” “Bullshit!” Glenn yelled as he swung the ax high above his head.

“The house is haunted by the ghost of someone who does not know they are dead,” Paul withdrew a mirror from his front pants pocket. “Horseshit! You’re a liar!” Glenn screamed and the room shook violently. Paint chips fell from the walls revealing metallic green under the paint on the prison walls. “Nancy asked me and my people to come here,” Paul pointed the mirror at Glenn. Glenn paused as the ax came down stopping inches from Paul’s head. The reflection in the mirror gave Glenn pause. The smoke-like image of himself froze Glenn mid-swing,” What is this shit?” 

Paul unclenched his eye as he had instinctively recoiled from the ax swing, “Glenn, this is what has been haunting the people that live here. You have been haunting them. You refused to move on into the light.” Glenn lowered the ax as he searched for words to express his confusion, “But...” Paul took Glenn’s hand in his, “You refused to move on. After saving your sisters life the guilt you had from killing your father created a prison of your own making.” 

“But all those reporters? And their questions,” Glenn stared confused at Paul. “Glenn, they were psychic just like me and were trying to lead you into the light and out of your personal hell.” “I don’t remember haunting my house?” Glenn asked. “That’s because you crafted your own world here. You projected your world onto those that came before me and those that lived here.” “Really?” Glenn shook his head.

“But how did I die then? If I am dead like you claim?” Glenn demanded. “When the police arrived, they shot you dead as you stood in the hallway begging your sister to open the nearly destroyed door. They saw your mother and fathers chopped up bodies. They decided to take no chances as you turned to them. You were pronounced dead at the scene.” Glenn's face went blank, “but I just wanted to save my sister.” 

“You have been pounding on that door and throwing things around inside the house for over fourteen years, Glenn. I think it’s time for you to rest,” Paul opened the door to the room. A brilliant light flooded into the room Glenn raised his arm defensively against the brilliance of the illumination. “Paul, just one last thing,” Glenn looked at his rescuer. “What’s that Glenn?” Paul questioned.

In the center of the living room, Paul Andersen sat in his trance-like state surrounded by his fellow investigator. The entire team waited patiently for Paul to come back to them from his entry into the spiritual world. He had always done this to confront the spirits they investigated. However; the local paper only stated “Bodies discovered in an old home on Falcon. Police search for a copycat killer.”