Among You (8 page)

The candle light licked the air as another, colder, breeze shot through the room. I could feel the flesh on my arms grow tight. The young creature continued.

“
There are but a few rules to help guide you safely through the Gaultier House. Most important is to not touch the appointments within the rooms, nor any of the other guests – corporeal or not. Next, you must not attempt to exit the tour. The ticket you purchased is one way only. Should you find yourself unable to continue on, seek solace in the arms of another, your journey must continue. Finally, and this is crucial, do not attempt to interact with the creatures you find within the Gaultier house. I cannot, in any way, guarantee your safety should you break that final rule. There are souls within the walls of these rooms that have been trapped for centuries; some are harmless, while others wait for one of weak constitution
to possess. Should you fall prey to such a spirit, your life might well be forfeit.”

A wall-rattling roar shattered the comforting peace of the room. The response from the majority of the audience was typical – shrieks and nervous laughter. I was enthralled, overjoyed, maddeningly in love with every second.

“
And now, I ask that you close your eyes and open your mind. The journey you are about to undergo will change you. Once touched by the Gaultier house, you will never be the same.”

With that, the young girl blew out her candle, which in turn extinguished every source of light in the room. We were in total darkness.

After a moment, a door cracked open. Whoever was standing closest to the entryway
forced the door further and gestured us to walk through.

The first room of the house was glorious; a well-drawn and appointed, Victorian greeting room, used to welcome guests into the home. What instantly struck me was the lack of standard ‘Haunted House’ trappings. The walls weren’t covered with spider webs and glow in the dark eyes. Instead, a deep burgundy velvet wallpaper decorated ten foot walls. In one corner stood a proud full suit of armor – as if to say ‘None shall pass’. We weren’t standing in the entrance to campy horror. This was real, this was something special. Depending upon the weather, coats and shoes would be removed and guests sat about, growing familiar with one another. During that period, conversation was an art; and so rooms dedicated to that very pleasure were often given over to opulence and finery.

When the final guest was inside the greeting room, the entryway crashed shut and the lights dimmed and flickered.

“
Come on,” someone whispered, “enough with the dark. Let’s see some gore.”

I wanted to race to the side of the insolent heckler and inform him he wasn’t in his home watching a teen, slasher flick with little artistic value. Sally glanced at me and then shook her head, fear widening her eyes. She must have seen the impulse race across my lips. Instead of pouncing, I took in a deep breath and sighed the frustration out of my lungs.

An unsettling silence blanketed the room. Everyone nervously looked around or shifted their weight. This would be the calm before a most wonderful storm.

Just as the tension in the room drew to a palatable apex, a spine-shrinking roar cut through the space. Doors and windows rattled on their hinges, paintings threatened to leap from their mountings.

Again, the roar punched the collective gut of the audience.

Before anyone’s curiosity had them seeking out an exit, a door on the far end of the room crashed open and a young woman in a red velvet dress slipped through and closed the door behind her.

“
He’s not here is he?” The young woman whispered. “Please tell me father isn’t in this room.”

The youthful stranger raced around to check every nook and cranny. She pulled a grand tapestry from the wall and dust exploded into the air. The stale stench of mothballs and old age wafted across the room. Once satisfied, she dropped into one of the wing-back chairs and giggled.

After a moment, she spoke – not seeming to address anyone in particular.

“
Should father catch me, he will strip me of my life.”

Again, the girl giggled.

“
The thought of death seems, I don’t know, worthy of a measure of joy. Considering the circumstances, I cannot imagine myself continuing on beyond this moment.”

The woman stood and stepped forward. A spill of candlelight fell upon her to reveal the same skin discoloration and yellow eyes we’d seen before. Unlike the first young woman, our new guest had a waterfall of blood-red ringlets cascading from her head to frame her face. Not a single boil, or horn presented itself. Outside of the varied coloration, she was perfect. Her face was round, her cherub cheeks gave birth to dimples the second a smile lit up her expression.

“
Where is she?” The roar returned, this time with purpose. Whatever it was, it was angry and looking for someone.

“
It’s her,” Sally whispered. “Mr. Roar-opolus is searching for this young thing here.” Sally pointed to the woman in the dress.

“
Oh no,” the woman panicked. “If father finds me, he’ll certainly take my life.” She stood and scrambled about. “I refuse to end on his terms.”

The young woman raised her hands to the ceiling. From high above, a rope gracefully descended. On the end of the rope was tied a noose.

Sally grabbed my hand and squeezed. I nearly laughed as I looked around to see every face in the room frozen with fear.

“
Father,” the young woman belted out. “It is for you that I sacrifice my life.”

She grabbed the rope and wrapped the noose around her long, thin neck. Once the knot was tight, she looked out at us and smiled.

“
I give my life, so that I may finally know true love. Some consider this an act of folly, whereas others can appreciate the artistic notion of what must be done. It is for him, that I die.”

The young woman’s arm raised and her pale finger pointed directly toward me.

Everyone in the crowd, save myself, gasped and whispered as they stared on.

With a single clap of her hands, she was yanked upward by the rope. The jerk of the line was so fast and so sharp, I was certain the woman’s neck would have been snapped. Instead, she hung from a rope whose end disappeared into nothing…and laughed.

“
Why do you deny me death? I beg of you, Father. If you cannot see to it to allow the end of my nightmare, then know I will attempt to take my life, every day, until I succeed.”

With that, the young woman reached up and loosened the knot of the noose. Once the hangman’s rope was wide enough to allow her head slip through, she dropped…about five feet – and then she stopped. Time stood still. I attempted to look around, but my head refused to move.

When my lips tried to speak out, no sound was produced; and yet, the young woman looked down at me (as she continued to hang, frozen, in the air) and smiled. I finally managed to force my lips to move and mouthed:

What is happening?

The woman nodded, closed her eyes, and slowly lowered to the floor. When her bare, delicate feet touched down, she stood in front of me. I could smell the perfumes of her flesh and hair. Not a word was exchanged. She simply stared into me and I into her. Something unsaid, unknown, was passed with the exchange – almost as if, with a simple glance, a graceful and unique seed was planted. She reached up, and with the most delicate touch, placed her fingertip on the end of my nose.

She blinked.

She disappeared.

Sally grabbed my attention.

“
Scott, what happened? Is everything okay?”

I had to stop and take a quick, physical inventory.

On the surface, everything was fine. Deep within the recesses of truth, I wasn’t so sure. No haunted house had the budget to pull off such incredible effects.

I grabbed Sally’s hand. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

“
Where did the redhead go,” Sally asked.

“
Didn’t you see what…just…”

It dawned on me; some maddening notion that the spectacle was there only for those willing to look between the lies and directly into the heart of madness. I was one such spectator. Not only was I willing to accept that reality is, in fact, relative, I had more disbelief to suspend than most.

Sally snapped her fingers inches in front of my nose. “Scott, what’s going on? Are you in there?”

Her voice pulled me from my reverie. I turned to her and could feel my eyes nearly bugging from my head.

“
Sally, I need you to…I don’t know how to say this without sounding completely crazy…when we go into the next room, I need you to watch the scene without the pretense of adulthood.”

Sally smiled. “Scott, sometimes I can hardly understand what you’re saying. Dumb it down for me just a bit.”

My brain scrambled for the Cliff’s Notes version of my theory.

“
I need you to walk into the next room as if you were a little girl – no bias, no preconceived ideas of what is real and what is fiction. Rewire your mind and heart to believe anything could be possible. Anything at all.”

Sally opened her mouth in what would most likely be a protest. I stopped her before she could utter a word.

“
Please, Sally, trust me on this. Just open your eyes and look through them as a child would.”

She nodded.

“
You believe in me, right?”

“
Completely,” whispered Sally.

The door at the other end of the room suddenly opened. From beyond the doorway, a throaty whisper begged us:

Follow.

We complied. Slowly, carefully, everyone made their way across the room. The noose still hung from nothing. Whenever anyone passed underneath the rope, they would duck or jump to avoid being touched by evil…pure and simple
.

The next room was smaller than the Greeting room – and perfectly square. The group packed into the center of the new room and, as soon as the last person walked in, the door creaked shut and the light flashed into darkness. Completely bereft of illumination, the room became impossible to comprehend. Without the ability to judge distance and space, it seemed like the walls were forever away. I could run for days and never lay a finger to a solid surface.

And then, the Gaultier House pulled off a stunt I would never forget.

A light flashed. Trapped within that blink of time I could see the surrounding walls lined with the same masked creatures as before: Grayish-green flesh, yellow eyes, horns, boils, Victorian-era clothing. The light flashed again and the walls were bare. Another flash found the bodies returned – only this time the monsters were replaced by the most beautiful people I have ever laid eyes upon. We were surrounded by visions of perfection – faces and bodies to shame Hollywood and forever silence Victoria’s Secret.

Again, darkness returned. When the light finally flashed to a near blinding intensity, the angelic beauties had been, yet again, replaced by the hideous faces.

The light strobed. The flickering brilliance revealed the surrounding faces switching from hideous to human…hideous to human…hideous to human.

I recalled a trick – a way to cancel out the effect of strobe lighting. It came in handy as a child, when the blinking of such lights inevitably brought bile to my throat. I blinked my eyes in perfect rhythm with the light and caught a glimpse behind the curtain. As the light went black, the surrounding people donned masks. With every other flash of light, they’d be revealed with their masks on. The effect was brilliant – once you understood what was happening. Without that understanding, your brain tricked you into thinking a hideous transformation had occurred. From human to hideous and back again.

A brilliant commentary on the state of society in the country. We are victims of our own perception and nothing more.

Sally grabbed my hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “Oh my God, Scott. Is this incredible or what?”

My blinking fell out of sync with the strobing effect and the lights went completely dark. The screams finally echoed to silence. From within that blanket of quiet, a raspy breathing rose very near to me. A sour smell, almost almond-y in fragrance, drifted up to get caught in my breath.

Without word or warning, the lights flashed back on (this time to stay), to reveal each of the bodies had stepped away from the wall and were standing nose to nose with an audience member. As luck would have it, the hanging redhead stood before me, a glowing white smile gracing her lovely lips. Oddly enough, she wasn’t wearing her mask, so that sickly green flesh was replaced by a flawless, milky-white complexion, with the slightest bit of color on the cheeks. Her eyes were the green of rolling Irish hills.

My heart lunged forward until it nearly broke free from my chest.

The girl smiled and her face melted downward. The perfect skin drooped and finally let go its mortal coil and sloughed off completely to reveal the sickly flesh beneath.

Again, the lights blinked out. When the room was, once again, visible, the specters were gone. The audience gasped, some even applauded.