The Wakefield Haunting: Part Three

The Witch of Wakefield was a story told by the local women, passed around as fears in the town grew. It was both a comfort and a curse upon their homes. In the stories, the Witch would come to your home, either while you’re asleep or away. She would tap on windows and beg for warmth. If the husband of the household answered, she would come inside and lay with him, pretending to be his wife. If a child answered, she would snatch them away into the night, and take them to her home to play with them until she grew bored.

But the Witch was most certainly the creation of the local men, to excuse their own behavior for sleeping with her. They would tell their wives it wasn’t their fault, that the Witch made them act the way they did. It was also much easier to blame the death of a child on a Witch as well. The rumors grew, the legends took hold, and soon the people of Wakefield came to the doors of the Wakeman Mansion, intending to rid themselves of the Witch once and for all. What they found inside, though, were their own faces peering back at them.

Wakefield became a barren place, even before the factory was shut down. Magnus Wakeman closed the doors when he no longer had enough people to work there. Very few lingered in Wakefield, and those who did usually had no choice but to stay. Magnus Wakeman stayed, but he soon vanished, and the Wakeman Mansion became a tomb. Only bodies.

Dr. Hidgens walks me down the long corridor, much further than when I came to the mansion during the day. There are doors on either side, and the faces of the townspeople peer out through the cracks. The candle Dr. Hidgens holds looks like a finger. For all I know, it is.

“Where are we going?” My voice trembles.

Dr. Hidgens tilts his head ever so slightly in my direction. His face looks like it has been clawed away by sharp fingers, starting from behind his right ear and ending on the left side of his jaw. The skull behind it, I know, is not wax at all.

“For now, it is about keeping you away, not where we are going, child,” Dr. Hidgens sighs. “You were warned about this place, I am sure. Yet you still came. I know you haven’t been here long, but surely, someone tried to reach out to you.”

I furrow my brow. “People outside,” I murmur. “No one would come here.”

“You had your chance to escape. Now, I’m afraid, you’re trapped here like the rest of us.” Dr. Hidgens says with a heavy heart.

I look at the faces staring back at us in the candlelight. Their skin has a waxy translucence, and in brief flashes I can see the bones beneath the surface.

My mouth is like cotton. “So, there is no way out? I can never escape this?” I whimper.

“Never say never, child,” Dr. Hidgens answers comfortingly. “Things always seem hopeless when they begin, but hope is always hiding somewhere in the darkness.”

I let out a heavy breath, as my breathing gives way to sobs.

“No, don’t cry, child.” Dr. Hidgens pats my arm. “Don’t cry here.”

I whimper and shake my head. “But I’m so scared.”

Dr. Hidgens nods. “That is the natural state of all living creatures. It is how we handle our fear that we show who we really are,” he assures me. “I used to tell that to my Charlie all the time,” he chuckles softly. “Back when I could.”

“He spoke highly of you,” I murmur. 

“I raised him to tell the truth,” Dr. Hidgens chuckles. “But, um-” His tone grows soft and serious. “Tell me, how is the boy? Did he look well to you? Happy?”

“I only knew him for a bit,” I answer quietly. I wring my hands from the nerves. “He seemed happy.”

Dr. Hidgens nods solemnly. “I gave him to Ms. Hasch when I felt my time was running out,” he confesses. “I had her take him outside of town, just outside.” He looks down at the candle in his hand. “It was good that I did. Because I didn’t last long after.”

“What happened?” I ask, but I fear I already know.

Dr. Hidgens sighs heavily. “Magnus was my friend,” he replies. “I promised him I would help him, no questions asked. I kept my promise until the very end.”

“Why would you help him like that?” I ask as my throat tightens. “Why make any sort of promise to him?”

“I told you,” Dr. Hidgens scoffs. “Magnus was my dearest friend. He helped me when I was at my lowest. I loved him dearly, and I knew no one else in this God forsaken little town was ever going to help him.”

“But all that he did!” I laugh. “How could you help him after that?”

Dr. Hidgens sniffs. “And just what did he do?”

I grow still, locked onto the sockets of Dr. Hidgens’ skull. I shift, glancing around at all the waxy faces staring at me with unblinking eyes. My mouth opens and closes on cotton as I try to calculate my thoughts. 

“Didn’t Magnus do this to everyone?” I whisper.

Dr. Hidgens stops dead in his tracks and turns his full attention to me. “What makes you think it was Magnus?” He holds the candle up so it is in my face.

“Magnus. Magnus. Magnus.” The faces around us whisper with a dark urgency.

“Wasn’t it?” I take a cautious step away from Dr. Hidgens. “From what I can tell, all of this is his fault. Ms. Hasch, her story…” I look around at all the faces whispering and chanting. “All the misfortune that befell his brother. It was Magnus, wasn’t it?”

Dr. Hidgens doesn’t move. 

I scoff, trying to play off my nerves. I thought Ms. Hasch had given me all the answers at the library. “He used his brother’s depression.” I look around again at all the faces. “He killed all of Emelia’s babies to assure he stayed in power. He kept Sophia locked away.”

A horrible cacophony of wailing and moaning runs through the hall. The faces of the figures stretch in agony, contorting into mortifying screams with mouths agape and eyes sunken. I clasp my hands around my ears, and the flame of the candle flickers.

“There are two sides to every tale, child,” Dr. Hidgens warns as the wailing fades. “Some monsters are born and some are made.”

“You’re not saying So-” I stop myself when I see the flame flicker again. “You’re not saying she did all this?”

“Not by her own hand,” Dr. Hidgens replies. He turns his head and nods forward. “We shouldn’t hesitate too long. We need to keep moving.” He walks ahead as I trail behind.

“She was troubled from the moment she was born,” Dr. Hidgens tells me. “A beautiful and perfect child, I remember marveling at how lovely she was when she was born. Matched her mother, honored her father. She was a miracle child, to say the least.”

“But how did you know she was troubled?” I ask. “You can’t tell that from a baby.”

“She was born with teeth, a full set,” Dr. Hidgens whispers. “And she loved to use them. She had to be fitted for a muzzle.”

“That’s horrible!” I balk.

“Did you not see Ms. Hasch’s fingers?” Dr. Hidgens asks. “She was missing one on each hand.”

My mouth drops open. “I wasn’t-” I stop myself and look towards Dr. Hidgens’ back. “That can’t mean she was bad from birth.”

“Why do you wish to make excuses for her?” Dr. Hidgens asks.

I quickly counter. “Why do you wish to absolve Magnus?”

“I don’t,” Dr. Hidgens replies. “Nor do I make excuses for myself. Of all the people trapped here, you might be the only innocent.” The hallway ends with a big red door. “All of us create our own monsters, child,” he says as he pushes on the door. “But your monster created you.”

The door opens to a blinding light that spills out into the hall. Dr. Hidgens grabs my hand, pulling me inside with him. I step on something, and trip over it. With a sickening oomph, I hit the ground and land hard on my own leg.

Dr. Hidgens picks up what I stepped on. As my eyes adjust, I see we are sitting in a small office filled with books. Dr. Hidgens helps me up and sits me down behind the desk. He sets a bottle down on top of it. 

“Let me see that leg,” he says as he kneels down.

“What did I step on?” I pick up the bottle, which is made of amber glass. The label is a bit faded, but I can read ‘iron, strycnine, and arsenic.’ I gasp in fear and instantly drop the bottle. 

“There are many reasons a child can die,” Dr. Hidgens says as his cold hand inspects my leg. “Accidents, disease, cruelty.” He sighs heavily. “I could never understand why the Wakeman family couldn’t keep a child.” He looks up at me. “You said it was Magnus, but what if I told you it was Sophia?”

“What?” I whisper.

“Magnus found out about it. He told me the reason Emelia kept having so many miscarriages was because of her poor diet. Once I got her on something able to support a fetus, that’s when she had Sophia. After that, the little ones dropped like flies.” He sets my leg down. “I thought it was all my fault,” he says in a mournful voice.

“What?” My voice is choked.

“I was a young man, new and fresh from school. I had been assigned here, and Emelia was my first patient. I thought I had saved her, but-” He stops himself and shakes his head. “Magnus was there to help me through my doubt. He took the bottle from me, and he assured me I was a good doctor.”

“Wouldn’t it have been his own guilt then?” I murmur. “I mean, the reason he helped you at all.”

“It was,” Dr. Hidgens says with a nod. “He knew the real reason the Wakeman babies kept dying.” He stands up from the ground and rubs what remains of his wax chin. “He showed me the collection of bottles, much like this one, that Sophia kept hidden.” He walks over beside the desk and lifts up a loose floorboard. Inside are a mix of amber, green, and crystal bottles. Most of them are empty, but some are still full. There are also wrappers for chocolates and other candies hidden inside the secret compartment.

“She hid these in Magnus’ own study, either to frame him or keep herself protected. I’m not certain.” Dr. Hidgens places the floorboard back down over it. “Magnus told me the truth one evening, when he was at wits end. He needed someone to know like he did. He needed me to understand when I started to treat her.”

Dr. Hidgens walks away from me. “The first time, she suffocated her new sibling. After that, she learned easier methods.”

“She was just a child!” I blurt.

“You said Magnus’ reasons were for greed. Why couldn’t that have been her reason as well?” Dr. Hidgens asks with a scoff. “Even still, when Magnus discovered her dark secret, he told no one. She had him wrapped so tightly around her little finger, he was more pet to her than man.”

“So… The story about Magnus selling her to men-” I open my mouth then shut it just as fast. 

“Sophia had her heart set on marrying a rich man. There was a young business associate of Magnus that caught her eye. He promised to marry her and give her everything, he just needed to make sure she was honest.” Dr. Hidgens walks across the room to the cold fireplace. “She slept with him, and he pushed her out the window. Turns out, he wasn’t the honest one. He was married, had children, and had been stealing from the Wakemans for a long time.” He lifts his head slightly. “Magnus called me when he found her. I’m not quite sure how she survived. After that, she locked herself away. She convinced Magnus to create wax figures to keep her company, so she wouldn’t have to deal with men anymore. He made her wax baby dolls, ones to resemble the siblings she lost.”

“That creepy nursery,” I mutter under my breath.

Dr. Hidgens nods. “The nursery became her obsession, and soon she confessed to Magnus that she wanted a real child. He knew it would not be safe, so he overcompensated for her, giving her more dolls in hopes of satisfying her. But her obsession with children grew, and she started leaving the house when Magnus was unaware. Thus, the tale of the Witch of Wakefield began.”

“Please stop,” I command him. “I can’t take hearing this! It’s all so grotesque and distorted,” I cry as I hang my head in my hands. 

“Magnus so loved her,” Dr. Hidgens whispers. “He would do everything in his power to make her happy. No demand too big. All the times I came into the house to treat her, I never once heard a ‘no’ from him.”

I start sobbing, weeping into my palms.

Beyond the door, a voice whispers, “I hear the baby crying.” 

Dr. Hidgens stands up stiffly and moves towards the door.

There is a knocking, and the same shimmering voice whispers. “Baby is crying, let Mama in.”

Dr. Hidgens raises his finger for me to be quiet, and I cup my hand around my mouth.

The door rattles and shakes violently. The wood panel surges inward, and dust rises from the hinges. “Let Mama in! Let Mama in!” she screams. “Let Mama in! Let Mama in!” Her voice becomes more angry, more demonic.

“The baby isn’t yours!” Dr. Hidgens insists. “You are no mother.”

She screams beyond the door, shaking it until the ceiling begins to crack. I stand up from my seat, hobbling over towards the corner where I can hide behind the curtain. There, I find a small door. It opens, and I slip inside as the door bursts open.

I fall down in the tiny corridor, gasping for breath and finding the air is like ice. I cough and gasp, scrambling forward until I can stand again. I lean against the icy wall, climbing a narrow staircase until I find another door. Opening it up, I step into a bedroom. Sophia’s bedroom. Everything is frozen like before, and silent aside from my breathing.

I let out a distressed sob and fall into a chair. I am at a loss, unsure how to move or where to go. She’s chasing me, hunting me, like a cat after a mouse. My leg is in pain, and even walking that hallway was a struggle. As I sob into my palms, I hear giggling.

As I lift my head, the giggling and laughter grows in volume. The cooing and gurgling of small babies filters through, and the pattering of small feet grows louder. The doorknob rattles, and under the crack of the door, tiny fingers wiggle and grasp at the air.

I slap my hand over my mouth to keep myself quiet. I whimper behind my palms, panicking as more little fingers squeeze through the cracks of the door. They stretch and claw at the door, and all the while the doorknob twists and turns furiously. The sound of laughter and coos grows louder, until the noise vibrates along my skin.

The door splinters in the center, and I jump up from the chair. The door continues to buckle and break, as I limp across the room and throw myself into the closet. I remember the hole in the ceiling.

The sound of laughter floods into the wood, turning into screaming and tantrums when I am not found right away. I start climbing my way out of the closet. I scream when a shelf shatters under my foot, and I am left clinging to the tree branch.

The babies hear me, and they are at the closet door. They beat against it, screaming and whining as I try to climb my way out. I slip, nearly falling to the floor. I look back once as the door cracks open, and tons of little arms shove through.

I kick myself out, climbing from the hole to find myself on the edge of the roof. I scramble away, hearing the babies’ tantrums grow louder. I manage to hold onto the top of one of the eaves, and I look around me. I see Wakefield spread out below, and beyond it, the horizon is endless. There is a sea of trees all around, fading into the pitch black of the sky.  

I scurry away, forcing myself not to look as I try to find a way to escape. I move along the roof slowly, too afraid to look down. I claw at the old shingles, slipping as some break away. I am climbing around an eave when I lose my footing and slide down, down, down.

I scream and grab hold of the edge before I fall over. I hang there, kicking into the air. “Oh god,” I cry out loud. “Oh god, please!” 

“Let go.” Her voice calls out to me. “Let go and I will catch you!”

“Go away!” I scream down at her. “Leave me alone!”

She stretches out her arms into the air. “I’ll catch you. I will always catch you!” She coaxes me. “Don’t you want to come down and play?”

I struggle, kicking my legs as I try to pull myself up. “No!” I struggle and strain, and finally ease my elbows onto the roof.

“Where will you go?” Her voice screeches. “Where will you go if not down and to me? You’ll come down! You’ll fall! You’ll fall!”

I pull myself up somehow and crawl back onto the roof, slicing open my palm on a shingle in the process. I lay there sobbing, breathing in deep while she screams below me. I whimper, taking in shuddering breaths until I can sit up again. My arms feel weak, completely drained of all energy. My leg is throbbing, hurting worse than before. I ease myself further up the roof, keeping myself towards the center. I rip my clothes to make a bandage for my bleeding hand, but the blood continues to seep through and dribble down my wrist. 

To escape, I decide to climb between the peaks in the roof, easing myself towards the very middle one. As I come closer, I notice a window - small and dirty, but passable. There is a crack at the bottom, barely big enough for my fingers to fit under. I force it open and climb into the dark room beyond.

As I stand there, I am surrounded by the smell that haunted me since I first came into the Wakeman Mansion. I grimace, cupping my hand over my nose. I walk backwards into the room until something touches my back. I push my hand against it, and it moves.

I lurch forward, turning around and bracing myself against the window. There is a squeaking sound, as if something is swinging back and forth. As moonlight comes in through the window, I see a body hanging from the ceiling.

I force myself to stay quiet, nearly screaming into my palms. 

“Who… goes… there?” The voice is brittle and dusty. “Who… who….” The body strains, the legs tense, and the arms are raised towards the noose around its throat. The figure takes in a rattling breath as the rope twists, turning so the body faces me.

“I… see… you.” They point a decayed finger at me.

I rush to climb back out the window, but it closes sharply in front of me. I scream and duck down onto the floor. “Please! Leave me alone!” I beg.

The hanging figure takes another breath. 

I cover my head with my arms. “She’s trying to kill me! All I wanted was to get away!” I whimper.

“If you cry…” he wheezes, “it will… only call her… here.”

I glance up at the hanging figure. 

He coughs, and the scent of death becomes thicker around me. “Help me down. I will get you out.”

I whimper, shaking my head furiously. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because, right now, I am the only one who can,” he wheezes. “Now… get me down.” His arm crackles as it moves, pointing to the corner, where a stool is toppled over.

I pick the stool up and use it to stand on. As I untie the ropes, I realize they are the golden ties that were supposed to go on the canopy of the bed. The body held by them drops to the floor, collapsing into a shapeless pile. I remain standing on the stool, frozen in terror as I watch the body writhe and slither around on the floor. It rises slowly, standing before me and ripping away the noose from his neck.

He offers his hand out to me. “I’ll help you down.”

I cautiously take his hand as I step down from the stool. I then quickly yank my hand away as I stare at him in the shadows. “Who are you?” I whisper in fear.

He looks at his hand, seeing my blood has stained him there. He brings it up to his face and smells it deeply. I grimace, inching further away from this corpse. 

“Forgive me.” he drops his hand back down to his side. “I do not mean to frighten you,” his voice is still like dust. “But my name is Magnus Wakeman.”

My jaw drops and I stare at him in awe.

“I have been trapped in this attic for some time now,” he replies. “Sophia,” he croaks. “What has she done now?”

“I don’t know,” I blurt out. “She dragged me from the window and brought me here! Dr. Hidgens tried to help me! Charles tried to… Ms. Hasch-” My thoughts are scrambled and shaken so badly, I cannot piece everything together. “It was you!” I jam my finger towards him. “You did this to me! You brought me here! You gave all those papers to my parents! All the deeds are signed with your name!”

“It is you, then,” Magnus whispers. “Child, I only gave them to you because they are yours to have.” He folds his hands over his chest. “You, poor thing, are a Wakeman by blood.”

I shake my head slowly to and fro, to and fro. “No,” I mouth. “No!” I finally scream out. “How can that be possible? All of Emelia’s children died!”

Magnus raises a finger. “All but one.”

“No!” I continue to thrash my head back and forth. “No! No! It can’t be!”

“Sophia brought you here because you are her’s.” Magnus whispers to me. “She is angry that you were taken from her, and her will is that you can never leave again.”

“I can’t-” I whimper. “I have to get out of here. I have to! This is impossible. There is no way-” I cry.

“I showed you, didn’t I?” Magnus tilts his head to the side. “Dr. Hidgens and I got you out of here. We found you somewhere you could be safe. But… I always thought I’d survive to see the day that you returned. That’s why I gave you all the deeds.”

“But what happened?” I nearly scream. I then point up to the rafters. “What changed? Why did you hang yourself?”

“Because I would do anything for my Sophia. My Ladybug,” he whispers mournfully. “I loved her so dearly, and I was all she had in this world. Whatever made her happy, I would graciously do it.”

“But why?” I blurt. “Why would you kill yourself?”

“To escape.” He folds his hands over his chest. “If I could not say no to her, I knew what would become of you. So I asked my dear friend, Dr. Hidgens, to help me escape her the only way I knew how.”

“I-” My voice leaves me and I struggle to breathe. I sink down onto the floor, where Magnus kneels beside me.

“Rest, child,” he whispers. “And I will tell you a story.”