Mary Had a Little Scare Read online

  Betty drew in a deep breath. If Mary was insisting on walking through the gate and onto a spooky property, well, she couldn’t very well let her friend go alone, now could she? Besides, the thought of being left alone in the pouring rain, in the dark, with caskets roaming her mind, didn’t appeal to her heart at all; no sir.

  “I’ll come along,” Betty told Mary, quickly glancing around at the wet, swaying trees…the dark land…the scary night sky…the fierce rain. Oh, what a horrible night, she thought as a bolt of lightning lit the sky and transformed the black into an eerie yellowish-blue face. “Oh, let’s hurry.”

  Mary nodded and carefully squeezed through the gate and stepped into a deep mud puddle. “Oh,” she fussed, “these were new shoes.”

  Betty pushed her suitcase through the gate. “Take my suitcase,” she said. Mary looked down at her wet shoes, shook her head, and then took Betty’s suitcase. Betty drew in a deep breath and forced her way through the gate and, just like Mary, stepped into the deep mud puddle. “Well, didn’t I do the same thing?” she said and hurried onto dry land and began shaking water off her shoes.

  Mary stepped up to Betty and looked down a long driveway that seemed to have no end. “Whoever lives on this property must be very wealthy,” she told Betty, handing her friend back the brown suitcase. “It’s too dark to really see, but I can bet you a million dimes that brick wall surrounds this entire property. A wall like that isn’t cheap.”

  Betty let her eyes look down the driveway. “Let’s…just go and find help, Mary,” she pleaded.

  Mary nodded and began trudging down the long driveway. She walked for what seemed like half an hour, even though only a few minutes, seven or eight at the most, had passed. Then she came to a sudden stop when she worked past a bend.

  “Oh my,” she gasped.

  “Oh dear,” Betty exclaimed and nearly dropped her suitcase.

  A large mansion like the ones she had seen in California appeared, surrounded by a black iron fence. The mansion stood like a strange creature, peering into the stormy night, searching for innocent victims. The outside walls were made of cold stone imprisoning dark windows covered with thick drapes. Dry, withered flower beds sat on an overgrown lawn, crying and moaning in the storm. It was clear, even in the dark of night, that the mansion and yard had been neglected for some years. Mary looked at the giant dark structure of the mansion and saw a single light on in what appeared to be a downstairs living room. No cars were in sight.

  “There’s a light on,” she told Betty.

  Betty slowly nodded. “I see it.”

  “I guess…we should go knock on the front door,” Mary told Betty even though every fiber in her heart was screaming one word: Run!

  “I…guess we should.” Betty gulped.

  Mary drew in a deep breath, eased up to the fence, and then handed Betty her suitcase. “If the entrance gate is locked, we’ll turn around and leave. If it’s unlocked…we’ll go and knock on the front door.”

  “If…you say so,” Betty said and braced herself as Mary tried to open the entrance gate, hoping the gate was locked. To her horror, she watched Mary push the gate open on rusted hinges, cringing all over. “The gate was…unlocked.”

  Mary pushed the gate open enough to step through. “You can stay here. I can go knock on the front door by myself—”

  “No way,” Betty said in a quick voice and handed Mary back her suitcase. “You’re not leaving me alone.”

  Mary stepped through the gate and then studied a long walkway lined with river stone leading up to an enormous wraparound front porch fit for a prince. The porch, like the outside walls of the mansion, was made of cold stone. “Looks like a castle…almost,” she told Betty and stopped talking when a flash of lightning ignited the sky and cast light onto the mansion. For a brief second Mary did see a castle…a castle with a Victorian touch laced to it. “My,” she whispered.

  “Oh my,” Betty added.

  “Well,” Mary said, “there’s no sense in standing out in this rain any longer than we have to. Let’s go see if anyone is home.” And with those words, Mary drew in a shaky breath and forced her legs to take her to the porch. She stopped at a pair of stone steps, raised her eyes up at the porch, and prayed for courage. “Here we go,” she whispered and began climbing one scary step after another. Betty followed close behind, wide-eyed, soaked to the bone and terrified. “I’m sure…someone is home,” Mary whispered as she climbed the last step and planted her feet onto a stone floor covered with rain water and time.

  “I hope not,” Betty said.

  Mary looked to her left and then to her right. She didn’t see any porch furniture sitting about. As far as she could tell the porch was bare of any signs of life. “I’ll knock on the front door,” she said and quickly set down her suitcase. “You stay right here.”

  “I…okay,” Betty agreed, spotting a large wooden front door that looked like it was strong enough to keep a herd of elephants out. She watched Mary ease over to the front door and stop. “Oh, please,” Betty begged, “knock on the front door and let’s get out of here.”

  Mary studied the door with careful eyes and then ran her hand over it. The wood was powerful and strong, but old to the touch. She spotted a hand-carved bird of some kind resting in the middle of the door—an eagle or a hawk, maybe. “Very interesting,” she whispered, running her hand over the carving.

  “Please hurry,” Betty begged.

  Mary took a deep breath, located an iron door knocker attached to the bird’s feet, and hit the door five times. “Hello…is anyone home?” she called out. “Hello?” She waited a few seconds and knocked on the door again. “My car ran off the road and into a ditch. My friend and I need some help.” Only the sound of the pouring rain answered Mary. She turned and looked at Betty. “Doesn’t appear that anyone’s home.”

  “Good. Let’s go,” Betty begged.

  Mary bit down on her lower lip and studied the situation. “I guess we should,” she said. She began to walk away when suddenly she heard a loud click come from inside the front door. “Hello?” she called out. “Hello…is anyone there?” Before Mary could call out again, the front door slowly crept open a few inches. “Hello?” Mary said again. “Who’s there?”

  No one responded.

  “Oh dear,” Betty gasped. “Mary, please, let’s go.”

  Mary stared at the front door. Someone had disengaged the main lock and pulled the door open a few inches. That meant someone was inside. “My car ran off the road. My friend and I need help,” she called out again. “Hello…is anyone there?” Again, no one answered Mary’s question. Mary turned and looked at Betty with scared eyes. “Someone opened the door,” she whispered. “Someone is inside.”

  “Someone…or something,” Betty whispered back in a terrified voice.

  “Someone or…something,” Mary agreed and stepped away from the front door. “Let’s get out of—”

  Before Mary could finished her sentence, the front door was yanked fully open. Betty screamed and then…yes…poor Betty fainted. Mary nearly fainted herself.

  “Hello?” she demanded. “Who are you? Why won’t you answer me?” Terrified and confused, Mary stared at the open front door. Gray, weak light spilled out onto the front porch from inside the house. “Hello? Please…answer me,” Mary begged. When no answer came, she looked down at Betty’s crumpled body, drew in a deep breath, and eased over to the front door and looked inside. Her eyes came to rest on a large foyer lined with a gray and white marble floor. And there, lying on the marble floor, was a body. It looked very much like a dead body.

  “Oh…my…” Mary gasped, backing away from the front door like a woman who had just been hit by lightning. “Oh my…oh my…”

  Lightning lit the rainy sky again with furious, dangerous eyes, enveloping the mansion in a spooky hand that quickly turned into a blanket that dropped down over the night, locking Mary and Betty inside.

  Inside the mansion, unbeknownst to Mary and Betty, a
shadowy figure entered a large library covered with dark burgundy walls, walked over to an antique bookshelf, pulled on a statue shaped like a globe, and stepped back. Seconds later, the bookshelf began to move.

  “Come inside and play,” a vicious voice whispered. Then the figure stepped into a hidden hallway and vanished.

  Outside on the front porch Mary stood in shock, uncertain of what to do or even think.

  “A dead body…on a rainy night…in the middle of nowhere…on our way to a funeral…far from home,” Mary whispered, keeping her eyes locked on the front door. She stood frozen in fear for several moments and then managed to run back to Betty. “Betty, wake up…we have to leave this place…Betty…oh…please wake up.” Mary began patting Betty’s wet face with a shaky hand.

  After what seemed like forever, Betty came around. Her eyes slowly opened, and she looked up at Mary. “Oh, Mary, I just had the most awful nightmare… We were driving to Maine to attend my Aunt Gennifer’s funeral when we had an accident and ended up at this awful place…” Betty stopped talking when her ears registered the sound of falling rain and her back began feeling the touch of a cold, stone floor. “No…” she begged.

  “Don’t faint, please,” Mary pleaded in a desperate whisper. “Listen to me…there’s a dead body inside. We have to get out of here and—” Before Mary could finish her sentence, she heard the sound of a low, vicious growl. She froze. Every hair on her head stood up. “Uh…Betty…did you…hear something?”

  Betty nodded, her eyes wide with fear. She raised a finger and pointed to the steps of the porch. Mary followed Betty’s finger. A dark shadow was standing at the top of the steps.

  “Oh my,” Betty said and began to faint.

  “Don’t faint,” Mary whispered. She slowly forced Betty up to her feet and began backing her away toward the front door as a powerful attack dog stepped up onto the front porch. The dog hunched down into an attack position and studied Mary and Betty. “Slowly…inside…” Mary whispered.

  Betty kept her eyes on the dog as her feet moved her backward. “Nice…doggy…” she whispered.

  The attack dog was wet, angry, and hungry and in no mood to be talked to like a baby. It let out a vicious growl and then charged forward like a deadly bull. Mary and Betty both let out a loud cry. Mary grabbed Betty and yanked her into the foyer and managed to slam the front door closed just as the dog leaped into the air. The dog struck the outside of the front door, hissed, and then, instead of wandering away, hunched down into a waiting position, growling.

  “We’re…safe,” Mary said, breathing hard.

  When Betty looked down at the floor and saw the dead body, she didn’t feel safe. No, not safe at all. So, Betty did what any sane woman would do in her situation. She fainted.

  “Oh,” Mary cried out. She ran over to Betty, bent down, and began fanning Betty’s face with her right hand. “Now isn’t the time…you have to wake up…” Mary begged. As she worked on waking up her best friend, her eyes went to the dead body. A knife was stuck in its back. “Oh dear…what a night,” Mary cried.

  Outside, the rain continued to fall, and the attack dog waited. Inside, a killer was watching…and waiting.

  2

  The sound of the heavy rain falling outside filled the foyer. Mary liked rain but as she stared at the dead body, she didn’t particularity find the rain very friendly. Instead, the rain seemed to have transformed into a creepy curtain hiding a deadly play—a play taking place inside a strange and scary mansion that any writer in the world would drool over.

  “And we’re the stars,” Mary whispered in a worried voice, focusing on the dead body. The dead body belonged to a man who appeared to be in his late sixties to early seventies; a man wearing a very expensive gray suit that matched a head full of silky gray hair. He was lying face-down, making it impossible for Mary to see his face—not that she had any desire to see his face. All she knew was that a dead body meant bad news…really bad news. “The killer is around…somewhere,” she whispered.

  “Mary?” Betty moaned.

  “Oh, wake up,” Mary pleaded.

  Betty slowly opened her eyes and looked up into Mary’s scared face. “Mary…”

  Mary grabbed Betty’s hand. “Now listen…there’s a…a dead body over there…so don’t faint on me again…please,” Mary begged.

  Betty’s eyes shifted to her left and located the dead body. “Oh dear,” she whispered in a voice that sent worry through Mary’s heart.

  “Don’t faint on me…please, don’t faint on me,” Mary pleaded. She quickly forced Betty to sit up and take in a few deep breaths. “Now listen,” she whispered, “the killer is inside this mansion…somewhere.” Mary walked her eyes out of the foyer and spotted a beautiful, hand-crafted, wooden staircase, each step covered with a dark burgundy rug. Two long hallways, resting on opposite sides of the staircase, stretched back into the mansion, filled with closed doors. “We can’t go outside because that dog who chased us inside will eat us for a late-night snack. Our only option is to find a phone and call for help.”

  “Phone…help…” Betty nodded.

  Mary kept her eyes on the staircase. “Help,” she said again and carefully helped Betty stand to her feet. “There should be a phone in the living room… Let’s go.”

  Betty looked down at the dead body. “Mary…we didn’t see any cars outside,” she pointed out in a shaky voice.

  “The killer could have parked anywhere,” Mary replied and cautiously eased past the dead body and out of the foyer. She stopped and looked to her left. A dark doorway leading into a large dining room stood at the end of a short hallway lined with eerie portraits, antique furnishings that seemed to have been transported from a lost castle in Europe, and a dark green carpet that cried of money. “This way,” Mary whispered, turning to her right. She walked down a hallway similar to the one leading to the dining room and stopped at a pair of heavy wooden doors that were tightly closed. “This must be the living room.”

  Betty studied the pair of closed doors. “I…suppose,” she said.

  Mary reached out her hands and grabbed a silver door handle. “Stand guard,” she whispered.

  Betty turned around and waited as Mary forced one of the wooden doors open. In the distance Betty spotted a portrait resting on the left wall. The portrait appeared to be of the dead man. Betty could handle that. What she couldn’t handle was the eyes staring down at her from the portrait. The eyes…looked so…real. And when the eyes moved—well, that was all Betty could handle. She fainted on the spot.

  “Betty!” Mary exclaimed. She dropped down to her knees and began fanning Betty’s face. “No…wake up…wake up…”

  Desperation filled Mary’s heart. She threw her eyes around, felt that she was being watched by the killer, and grabbed Betty’s arms. “Hold on,” she said and began dragging Betty into a colossal-sized living room lit with antique lamps tossing out dim light onto furniture that seemed to have been created for old dusty poets. A grand piano sat in the far right corner of the living room on a wooden platform covered with burgundy carpet. The piano was staring at a stone fireplace large enough to roast a dinosaur in.

  “Goodness,” Mary said, dragging Betty over to a gray and white couch, smelling the faint scent of cologne and cherry tobacco. “What a place.”

  What Mary didn’t know was that before the night was finished, she was going to become very acquainted with almost every room in the mansion. At the moment, though, Mary was only interested in locating a telephone, calling for help, and hoping for the best. “The best,” she told herself, locating three square windows sitting on the front wall. Each window was covered with dark green drapes, hiding the night.

  “Stay here,” Mary told Betty and dashed away. She ran to the open wooden door, slammed it shut, and then ran to one of the windows and peeked outside. The window looked out onto the front yard. The front porch ran right under the window, making it simple for anyone to open the window and crawl out onto the front porch. Mar
y wasn’t interested in trying to escape—the grouchy dog was surely waiting on the front porch, hidden in the dark, hunched down and ready to attack. She had to locate a phone.

  “Mary…” Betty moaned.

  Mary let go of the drape and ran back over to Betty. Running across the living room felt like hiking across miles of carpet. The room was so massive that Mary felt like she had entered a second mansion. “I’m here.”

  Betty opened her eyes. “The portrait…I saw…eyes…moving…” she whispered as her mind slowly began to grasp onto a conscious ladder and struggle out of a black pit. “I…saw eyes…the portrait.”

  Mary bent down. She was soaking wet, confused, and very scared. The last thing in the world she wanted her ears to hear was that her best friend saw eyes moving in some spooky portrait of a dead man.

  “Maybe it was your imagination?” she asked even though her own mind knew better. Because she had visited California and fought a deadly foe inside of a fancy mansion laced with hidden hallways, Mary felt confident that the mansion she was trapped inside of was no different. She knew hidden passageways had to be lurking behind the walls of this mansion. After all, she thought, what was a rainy, spooky night trapped in a scary mansion without hidden passageways?

  “No…not my imagination,” Betty whispered. “I saw…eyes.”

  “Here,” Mary said. She took Betty’s hand and helped her best friend sit up. Betty took a minute to focus. She walked her eyes around the living room, studied the layout with wide eyes, and then looked at Mary. “Where are we?”

  “In the living room,” Mary explained.

  “My goodness…it’s…”

  “Massive,” Mary said. “I need to find a phone. You sit still.” Mary let go of Betty’s hand, stood up, and looked around. “There should be a phone here someplace,” she said and began a random search of the living room, walking over burgundy carpet that felt cold under her wet feet.