Carridelle – Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Of Rumblings in the Attic

Carrie awoke the next morning feeling oddly rested. She sat in bed and stretched her arms out over her head. Once the cobwebs of sleep had cleared her mind, the details of last night came flooding back to her with sudden clarity. “There was a ghost in this room.” She said it aloud to herself as if saying it aloud would make it seem more real, more like something that happened and not the strange nocturnal ramblings of someone clearly under too much strain. This house was haunted, and she was going to find out where and by whom.

After showering and changing, she left the house and headed into town for a tasty breakfast and some research into her current abode. Carrie found her way back to the diner and back to Buffy, her first acquaintance in the town.

“Well, heya doll. It’s so nice to see ya again. Did you come for more directions or are ya gonna eat some breakfast?”

“Hmmm Buffy I guess a little of both. But I’m so glad that I got here on your shift. I needed the comfort of a friendly face this morning.”

“My shift? Honey, I don’t ever go home,” she said cracking her gum sharply against the roof of her mouth and then chuckling softly. “Nothing to go home to, no where to go either so I come here. Least here I see a friendly face now and again.”

Carrie smiled, “I’m glad to be of service!” and she bowed an overdramatic bow to the delight of her newest friend.

“So how do you like our little town so fah?” Asked Buffy while placing Carrie’s order of a cheese omelet and home fries.

“I like it. The people here are wonderful.” Carrie said and grumbled in appreciation as she let the food slide down her throat.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about the library hours? I know this being small town and all….” Carrie’s voice trailed off as she sipped from her coffee cup.

“What use do you have for a library on vacation? I have half a mind not to tell you the hours. You’re meant to be relaxing!”

Carrie laughed, “You sound like my mom. Actually, I wanted to do some research on the house I’m staying at.”

“Where are you staying, if you don’t mind me asking.,” said Buffy as she saddled up on a stool with a huff and a puff, till she was sitting opposite Carrie.

“I’m staying at the Murray place; do you know it?”

Buffy cleared her throat and let out a small whistle before she answered, “How did you come to be mixed up with that old place? There are rumors that it’s haunted. Don’t take much stock in ghosts mind you, but there are them that say it is. I don’t think anyone around here knows the true story though. The Murrays don’t live here anymore and when they did it was pretty much kept a secret. Folks don’t gossip much around here, kinda gets boring now and again.”

Carrie was not about to tell Buffy that the place was indeed haunted. She didn’t think anyone would believe she saw a ghost and Carrie sincerely doubted that the no gossip clause was true. She certainly didn’t want a thousand reporters around her house.

“I was just wondering about the history of the place; the antiques are so wonderful inside I wanted to try and put a time period with them.” Carrie was surprised at how easy that fib fell out of her mouth.

“Well then I guess the library is a good place to start they will have all of the info you are looking for. I think it’s open till 4:00.”

“Perfect! How much do I owe you Buffy?”

“Aww sugar, consider it on the house, you made an old girl happy this morning with your company.”

“Thanks Buffy. I’ll stop by again and next time I’m buying.”

“Hmmm you planning on bringing in take out?”  Buffy asked as she hopped off her stool and chuckled. The cook in the back clanged his pans loud enough to wake the dead. He must have overheard her.

Carrie just smiled and shook her head is mock exasperation. She headed out of the diner and into the library to research the house that the Murrays built.

The town history section of the library was quite easy to find. Carrie poured over the books until she found what she was looking for. The first mention that she saw at all was the story of the death of the governor.

“Governor William T. Hughes was an established politician. He was governor of the state of South Carolina from the years 1840 until his sudden death in 1853. He was not a well-beloved figure in the history of the state. He was known to make more enemies than friends, but his wealth and political ties allowed him to secure his election each term as unjust and unfair as that seemed to the other hopefuls. There were no immediate family members known at the time of his death.”

The next page of the book was missing. Carrie sighed; she hated stumbling blocks. So, she searched fruitlessly for more information. There was no more to be found save the architectural history of the mansion.  Carrie queried the librarian about more books concerning the local history. The librarian told her the most she could come up with were the birth and death records.

Carrie checked the genealogical archives, limited though they were. She found the record of William Hughes’ birth. There were records of his parents’ deaths and the record of his death. There was no mention of a sibling though. Something had to be missing as she had the headline that stated he left all the money to his nephew. At the library Carrie came up to nothing but dead ends. Her head was throbbing. She decided to go home and go for a swim to clear her mind.

Carrie approached the house apprehensively, though she claimed not to be afraid of the ghosts, there was something creepy about abiding with them.  She unlocked the front door and nearly fell on the hardwood when she stepped on an envelope that had been slipped inside.

Ms. Carridelle Stenson

Mr. and Mrs. Roger Reynolds

Request the honor of your presence at a small dinner party

Saturday evening, 8:00 pm

The 8^th of September 2001

Carrie had no clue who these people were. Inside the envelope was another note stating that the hosts were friends of Raymond’s and he had made sure that they invited her to their next social gathering. Well at any rate Carrie knew it would be fun. All of Raymond’s friends were flamboyant and outrageous. The boy just didn’t do anything toned down.

It wasn’t until Carrie got to the bedroom that she remembered the thumps in the attic from the evening before. She gulped with apprehension, but she knew she must ascend the stairs and see what message the ghost was trying to send to her. She grabbed a flashlight out of her nightstand and crept carefully up the attic stairs. She lifted the hatch and shone the flashlight tentatively around the room. It was dark, musty, and full of cobwebs. It had the distinctive odor of mothballs. They were so strong that Carrie nearly gagged. Sheets covered most things in the room except for a trunk.  There was little within arms reach of her and Carrie just didn’t trust the old floorboards to support her without a full inspection first. She shone the light around the room again. Only this time the beam alit on a small maroon book with gold lettering. It looked like a diary.  Carrie stretched out to reach it and feeling sure she got what she came for, she hurried quickly back down the stairs.

Once she was safely ensconced in her room again, Carrie drug out a captain’s chair to the widow’s walk and sat down to investigate the book further. The initials in the book were S.A.M.  Carrie ran her hands over the cold leather, touching the letters as if they were pure gold. She opened it gently. The pages were worn and yellowed. Scrawled across the first page in a child’s handwriting were the letters Susannah Anne Mundy.

Unfortunately, there were only a few entries in the book, few enough to read all in one sitting. Susannah was not a very loquacious child.  The few that she read were sad and sweet.

“Momma bought me this book for Christmas. She says I need to learn to use it just like a big girl does. She says that it will help me to better understand things, like a friend and a confidant. She says to try and write in it every night. But mamma knows I don’t have time. I have chores and responsibilities and fun to have with my friends. But I will give this a try since momma and I are the only family we got. And you just don’t turn your back on family. Least ways that’s what momma says.”

There were a few more pages of easy reports of childhood days, interesting to a historian perhaps but not what Carrie was sure she was supposed to find and then on the last page there it was.

A tearstained page, yellowed with time and fingered often at the corners read as follows:

“Momma died today so if it is all the same to you diary, I don’t think I will be writing in here anymore. It just won’t be the same without momma here to guide me to tell me what is right. The Hughes family that momma worked for said I am to live with them. I guess that’ll be okay. Mrs. Hughes wants me as a daughter, not as a servant she says. Hope she don’t want me to call her momma. I have only had one momma in all of my eight years. The Hughes are a rich family. And I know they will take care of me. But I don’t like that William no how. He is so strange. But I have to go now diary cause I am supposed to be a good girl and gather up my things but I can’t help but cry diary. I loved my momma, and I can’t help but feel that my heart is breaking in two.”

The odd thing was by the time that Carrie was done reading the page there were fresh tears on it. When she wiped her eyes, she didn’t even realize she had been crying.