The Haunting of Wakefield: Part Two

I notice a strange smell as I ascend the stairs. It’s faint and dusty, and almost like the whiff of rotting milk, and it lingers long after the first inhalation. Like the ghost of a scent. The further upstairs I go, the more oppressive that ghost becomes. I open windows, letting the air out. On the second floor is a mix of empty rooms and more of the wax figures.

As we search the rooms, Charles agrees to help me find a buyer for the figures, and with any luck, I can get rid of them all. Otherwise, I plan on just destroying all of them. There are dozens, and possibly more. The whole house is a labyrinth of rooms and corridors. I don’t know what the Wakemans were planning to do here, aside from sheltering all the children they never had. 

The third floor is where Sophia lived. I don’t come across any of the wax figures there, so I don’t mind it much. The only bothersome thing up there is the smell - I wonder if rats have died in the walls. Everything there is tinted blue - the walls, the carpets, even the furniture. I feel like I am walking into a world where I don’t belong, where the blue seeps into the air and stains my vision. It’s an odd trick of the eyes that causes me to rub them several times.

I stumble into the bedroom, finding it to be like a place frozen in time. The stillness of the room mingles with the blue, like artwork come to life. Stepping inside, I feel I need to hold my breath to exist here, and I scratch beside my ear to make sure I haven’t gone deaf. 

The bed is covered by a domed canopy, and the sapphire drapes fall around the frame like water. The dull golden tassels have dropped to the floor. Whatever happened to the ropes that attached them, I’ll probably never know. 

Stepping towards the bed, I hear the faintest of sounds. My hand is on the curtains, and from within, I hear what sounds like faint signs of breathing. Slow, gentle breaths, as if someone is sleeping inside. I stand as still as possible, listening, listening. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, making me wonder if I am imagining the sound of slumber from within. My fingers twitch as I grasp the curtain to pull it back.

There is a clatter and commotion behind me. I turn around fast as a panicked wail comes from my lips. The noise continues, followed by a raspy barking sound. I walk towards the closet door, and throw it open to see squirrels inside. They continue making their noise, fighting as they scamper up and exit through a hole in the closet ceiling. I stand underneath the hole, and see a tree branch has reached inside. All around me, I can smell urine, so I quickly leave the closet, pushing it closed to let nature have it for now.

I sigh heavily and make my way across the hall. As I swing open another door, I instantly regret it. Inside, there are rows upon rows of cribs and cradles, bassinets and small beds. Each one is filled with a sleeping baby or child. In the far corner of the room, right behind the fireplace, more dolls are stacked as if they are clawing and climbing on one another, making their way up to the topmost corner.

The dolls in the beds look hauntingly real. Their cheeks are rosy, their lips glossy. The lashes hug the tops of their plump cheeks and their tiny hands have individual nails. Some cling to stuffed animals or blankets, and others huddle under the covers with each other. The mass in the back, dare I say, looks like children melted together, creating a single, solitary creature that desperately needs to die. 

“The witch steals babies, the witch took yours. 

The witch will come for you if you don’t eat your porridge. 

The witch may look pretty, but I’ll warn you she’s not. 

She’s going to come and get you and put you in her wax pot.”

I turn to look back at Charles standing in the doorway. “Kids today still sing that,” he says as he strides into the room. He looks around, glancing at each sleeping face. “I see you found the nursery.”

“What is all this? Another exhibit?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I would say this is her own private collection,” Charles answers. “Sophia was known to mourn the loss of her siblings terribly.” He points to the window by the spot where the baby mound starts. “Look.”

I move forward, cautious of the toys scattered all over the floor. Beyond the window, there is a graveyard covered by vines and decayed leaves. In the very back, two stone angels stand facing one another, one feminine and the other masculine. The rest of the tombstones are simple slabs of stone.

“The Wakemans are buried out there?” I gasp.

“It was a belief in Emelia’s family that if you build a home and die there, you need to be buried with it.” Charles stands beside me as we look over the graveyard. “Which is worse for you? The graveyard, or the collection?”

“I’m not sure,” I whisper breathlessly. “Honestly, all of it is horrible.” I motion to the bedroom. “There’s a hole in the closet ceiling.”

“I’m not surprised.” Charles walks out of the nursery and stands in the hallway. “They say that after her parents died, Sophia was made a prisoner in her own home. Magnus kept her locked up here so he could run the business himself, but Sophia always found a way to get out.”

I close the door behind me. I then go to open another and, as I jiggle the handle, I find the door is locked.

“Oh, that’s the attic,” Charles murmurs. “They kept it locked up ever since Frederick- Well, I’m sure Ms. Hasch told you.”

“She did,” I whisper as I step away from the door. 

Charles looks back into the bedroom. “They say Magnus kept her up here, and sold her to his friends and the rich businessmen he dealt with.” He points to the bedroom. “There was once a story that she had lain with every man in Wakefield.”

“What?” I am utterly disgusted. “He did that to her? For what reason?”

Charles shrugs. “No idea. But my father used to come over here at all hours. Any time Magnus rang, my dad would be out the door without a word. Didn’t matter what time it was or what we were doing. He would just… leave.” He sniffs. “Mom said you could hear screaming from this house no matter what time of day it was.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need to hear any more of this. This place is grotesque enough without the stories heaped upon it. This Magnus fellow sounds like a monster. I hope he’s dead.” 

I make my way back downstairs, and head out the front door with Charles close behind me. I stand outside, taking in deep breaths, but still feel that ghost of a scent all around me.  “Is there an inn or something here where I can stay?” I huff as Charles walks out.

He sighs as he closes the door. “You don’t want to stay in your house?”

I give him a withering look, hoping he understands I have no intent of staying in that madhouse, ever. “Please, just anywhere else will be fine.”

“You can stay with me,” Charles replies. “I’ve got a spare room that’s not doing anything for me.”

There is a thud from inside, and the front door rattles. Again, there is the crashing and rumbling of things falling. Charles opens the door again, and a head comes out. It plops down the stairs, rolling until it stops at my feet.

“God! No!” I scream, turning around and hitting my forehead against Charles’ car.

“Oh boy,” Charles scratches the back of his neck. “Those things were just waiting to fall.” He opens the door wider for me, and I can see that every single figure lined up around the high shelf has fallen from their place. They lie broken and shattered on the floor, bent at horrible angles, their bodies morphed into sharp, gnarled shapes.

“Should we do something?” Charles asks.

I kick the head that rolled out aside. “No. Close the door and get me away from here,” I order as I get into his car.

Charles lives alone, apart from his massive German Shepherd named Gray. The dog follows me around, sniffing my bag and staying by my side no matter where I go. That evening, when I intend to sleep, Gray lays outside my door.

As I lie on the bed, I hear Gray whine. I snuggle down, intent on sleeping and not giving in to the whimpering. Gray’s whines slowly turn into snarls. The low, threatening rumble is enough to make me lift my head from the pillow. Gray’s voice rises into a bark, raving mad. He snarls and howls, and his monstrous heaves finally make me jump to my feet.

I go to the door and open it to find Gray haunched and tense. Every hair on his body is stood on end, and his tail is stiff as a board. He keeps barking, but I see nothing at all in the hallway. “Gray, be quiet!” I order him. “Gray! Shut up! There’s nothing!”

As I say this, a ball rolls up the hallway. Gray roars at it until it comes to a stop. Blond hair spills out over the floor, and a blank, waxy face stares up at us. Gray starts whining again. He ducks between my legs, keeping his head out in front of me.

I recognize the head as the one that rolled down the stairs earlier. How did it get here? I start to wonder, when the wax begins to peel and melt away. It drips onto the floor, spilling into the long blond hair. As the wax melts away, there is a skull beneath it. The hollow eye sockets stare into me. The jaw clacks open, revealing more hair spilling out from inside.

I scream, push Gray into my room, and shut the door behind us. Gray whines, staying close to me while I stumble towards the bed. Gray moves towards the window, barking at it like he had in the hallway. In the darkness, I see something white press against the glass.

I suck in my breath and throw myself under the covers. I feel like a child, thinking if I cover my head and ignore the world, I can make everything go away. Gray continues to bark and snarl while I try to shut everything out.

“Please let me in,” a voice cries pitifully. “I promise, we’ll have fun. Just us,” the voice continues, muffled by the glass. “It’s so cold in there.” The voice trembles. “It’s so cold. Just one warm night will do.”

Gray continues to snarl and bark. 

There’s a banging at the door. “What is going on in there?” Charles yells. “Are you okay in there? Answer me.”

Gray starts whining and walks over to the door, pawing at it.

Charles opens the door. “What are you doing?”

“The window! No! In the hallway!” I gasp. “It was in the hallway!”

Charles looks behind himself, turning his head this way and that as Gray sits down beside him. “What was?”

I look to the window, and see nothing there. “The head,” I gasp. “The head, it was… It was wax, and it melted, and the skull…” I stop when I see the way Charles is staring at me. “It was there,” I say breathlessly. “It was there, I swear to God, it was!” I get up from the bed, pushing him aside and looking around.

I open the window and peer out into the darkness, and see something white in the trees. It moves through them, vanishing into the night before I can tell what it is.

“I saw it,” I say in a panic. “I saw it, I swear I did.” I point to Gray. “Why else would he react that way?”

“Because you’re a stranger in his house,” Charles scoffs. “He also barks at mice.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I know the house has gotten you rattled, but get some sleep. You’ll feel better that way.”

He leaves, but Gray doesn’t budge.

I sit on the bed, breathing deeply into my cupped hands. I know what I saw. I saw the skull as the wax melted away. I heard a woman at my window, wanting to get in. I take deep breaths, slowly let them out, then ease back down into bed.

I wake up feeling frozen. Even under warm covers, I feel frigid. As I sit up, I see there are curtains all around me. Looking this way and that, I am surrounded. Between the cracks, I see someone moving back and forth. They come into the room, leave, then come back in. As they do, they close the door. 

“She’s sleeping, Magnus.” The voice sounds like Charles.

“Good, then get it out of here. Now,” a deep voice rumbles. “Get it as far from here as possible.”

“What will she do?” The man that sounds like Charles whispers.

“Whatever she does,” the deep voice snarls. “Now go! Hurry!” The second man leaves in a hurry, but I can't see him through the crack.

The curtain beside me snaps open. I look up, and there is a man standing above me. I am silent, motionless, as is he. We stare back and forth at one another until he screams, and wax pours from his mouth.

I wake up in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed as Gray watches me. I feel sick to my stomach, so I get up from the bed and open the window to get fresh air. As I do, I come face to face with a woman. She stares at me with sunken, hollow eyes, her pale hair falling around her face and catching in the breeze. Her face is gaping and unblinking, locked in a permanent stare that will not move. I am too afraid to move away, fearing whatever reaction she might have should I try.

Stretching out her hands, I see they are gaunt and bony. “They tried to take you away from me. They tried to take everyone away from me.” Her cold fingers brush against my cheeks. “But no one stays gone from here for long.”

I try to pull away, but she grabs me before I can. I scream and struggle as she pulls me through the open window. Her cold fingers dig into my scalp, pulling my hair as she drags me along the wet ground. I claw at her hands and fingers, trying to get her to release me. But no matter what I do, no matter how much I kick and scream, she keeps dragging me along the ground. 

“Let me go!” I yell. “Let me go!” I try to hold onto the ground to slow her down, but she doesn’t halt. I once grab onto a tree root, but that only seems to make her mad and she smashes my fingers with her heel, forcing me to let go.

I scream, thrashing and fighting as she drags me towards the Wakeman Mansion. The doors open wide, and inside, the mangled bodies of the figures that fell cluster together, holding the doors for her. I fight harder, trying to pull her back to make her fall down the stairs.

She doesn’t budge. She keeps moving forward, with me snared and at her mercy. “This is your home now,” she says to me. “We’re going to love you here.”

“Please! No!” I scream and fight. “Please!” I look up, seeing the gaping, melted-together faces of the wax bodies all turn and face me. Their arms and hands stretch out, grabbing my limbs and keeping me from holding onto the door to save myself. 

“You belong here,” the woman whispers. I scream bloody murder as the doors close behind us. “It wasn’t right for them to take you from here,” she says in the cold darkness. “You belong with me.”

I whimper and shudder on the floor, breathing in deeply and coughing on my own breath. Her fingers slip away from my hair, and I feel suddenly and painfully alone in the dark. I hear whispers and voices in the distance. Upstairs, I hear footsteps thumping around.

“What have you done?” I hear a man roar. “How could you do this to your family?” There is crashing, and more frantic footsteps.

“Leave me alone!” a girl screams. I hear her running, and a door slams.

The voices swirl around me, different and yet the same. They flood me like water, filling my senses until I am drowning in them.

“What you’ve done is evil!” The man sounds like he is crying. “It’s evil! How do you not see what it is?”

“You don’t understand!” the girl cries. I hear her body hit the ground, and it seems to break apart.

There is the sound of something falling over and crashing to the ground. “Is that what you wanted?” The man roars.

“I wanted you alone!” A woman screams like a raging banshee. “I wanted you alone!”

“You have me! If I give myself, will you stop?” 

“Never.”

I open my eyes and gasp, seeing someone standing over me. The world is quiet again, and the only things present are me, this stranger, and a candle. It isn’t the woman from before - but the figure’s face is missing, the wax scooped away like something had clawed it off. Bones peer out, hollow eye sockets staring at me.

“I tried to save you,” the figure says in Charles’ voice. 

I blink a few times as tears roll down my cheeks. I try to swallow, but my mouth and throat feel like they are stuffed with cotton. “Doctor Hidgens?” My voice comes out a childlike whimper. 

“Get up now, child.” He offers his waxy hand to me. “This night is far from over.”

I take hold of his hand, and feel the paint chip off the wax of his fingers. “What’s happening?” I whisper to him. “What is this place?”

“Wakeman Mansion,” he answers with a hushed voice. “Your home.”

I stand up, peering through the dark. In the candlelight, I can see down the hallway, and all the wax faces peering out from their doors at us.

Dr. Hidgens places his hand on my shoulder. “Our home.”