Written in the mid-1990s, A Very Strange House is the first story I ever wrote for an audience. Yes, it does seem misogynistic for how I treat my female lead, but I assure you in the sequel she gets her revenge and Dr. Pyre gets his comeuppance. I will publish the sequel in the very near future.
So take this haunted house story with a grain of salt. It is quite politically incorrect for modern sensibilities.
A Very Strange House
by Alan Pyre
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Molly exited her car and pulled again at
the hem of her miniskirt. A natural procrastinator, when it came to washing
laundry, she had let the pile of dirty clothes stack up. Then, as luck would
have it, her boss called her at the last minute to immediately cover some
stupid public interest story when the only clean dress she had in the entire
house consisted of one very short skirt she had bought on a lark several years
ago.
She had parked her car at the proper
address and sniffed in disdain at the house in front of her. A modern ranch
house, it did not look like it was haunted, nor did it come even close to the
reputation her boss claimed marred its recent history. Next to the house in its
driveway stood a large white van, electrical cables snaking from it into the
home’s front door. Her boss told her that the new house owners had called on
some professional ghost-busters to come and purge the house of its reputation.
A middle-aged man came to the door, bald
and obese to the point of corpulence, his florid complexion a silent testament
to the tragedy of a life of overeating and inactivity. He glanced at her, then
suddenly did a double-take. His frown of censure was clearly visible even from
where she stood. She sighed, ignoring that all too much thigh was showing; she
boldly walked up to the front porch. For the first time Molly could remember,
she was embarrassed to notice she jiggled when she walked.
“Am I addressing Dr. Pyre?” she
inquired. He nodded in silence. Molly stood still, uncomfortable with the sudden
silence.
“My name is Molly Ladanyi,” she
continued, “I work for ...”
“You work for the Frederick Sentinel,”
the man interrupted, “where for several years you’ve covered stories of an
insignificant nature ranging from firemen rescuing cats to cheesy stories of
fortunetellers with bad accents.” He looked at her and sniffed. “I was hoping
for a professional reporter.”
Molly bristled. “I am a professional
reporter,” she said, “and the work you’ve cited are stories any beginning
reporter has to begin with to earn their keep.”
“So now they’ve got you covering stories
on haunted houses?” he asked, grinning like a shark. He looked at Molly’s
shapely thighs and shook his head.
“Look,” she said, giving in to
resignation. “I normally don’t dress like this. But unfortunately, this was a
last-minute call, and I had nothing else clean to wear. Can’t we just finish
this interview so I can go?” She looked at him pleadingly. In response, the man
simply shrugged and motioned her into the house.
In the foyer, he turned and assumed what
Molly guessed passed as his lecture mode. “As you have surmised, my name is Dr.
Milo Pyre.
“That’s Pyre with a ‘y,’” he said
forcefully. “I can’t stand having my name misspelled.
“The home you are in was built in 1972.
It was in 1978 that the family residing here began to notice what we in our
business call the poltergeist phenomenon.” He led her from the foyer into the
kitchen. The house was furnished and quite plain. And very normal. Except for
the electrical cables that seemed to snake everywhere, the video cameras, the
microphones, and the strange sensors taped to the walls, Molly was convinced it
would have made an excellent set for any wholesome family sitcom.
“It was the typical stuff,” Dr. Pyre
continued. “Bric-a-brac flying around the room. Strange lights. Cold spots. The
regular. When the attacks began, the house started going through a regular
cycle of owners who would immediately dump it on the market after just a few
months.”
“Attacks?” Molly asked nervously. “What
kind of attacks?”
Dr. Pyre shrugged. “Nothing overly
dramatic. Mostly people getting things thrown at them. The feeling that an evil
presence was in the same room with them.”
He walked up the second-floor steps, and
Molly followed behind, furiously scribbling notes on her small notepad.
“Unfortunately, even such minor attacks
were enough to chase people out of the house for good. No curiosity—please
watch the electrical cable there. You’re stepping on it—and people took off
without even asking what they were running from.”
“And,” Molly asked, “have you noticed
any unusual stuff while you’ve been here?”
“Yes,” he said nonchalantly as if he was
discussing the weather, “but I’m a researcher and don’t have time for
distractions.”
“And how are you researching this ...
EEK!” she suddenly screamed. She dropped her notepad, causing the doctor to
jump. She grabbed her backside and backed into a wall, almost knocking over a
video camera.
“Some ... some ... something pinched
me!” she shrieked.
“Come, come,” Dr. Pyre said. “A pretty
girl like you wearing such clothes can’t be a stranger to a casual pinch.” He
shook his head, clucking his tongue.
“What was it?” she asked, terrified to
move away from the wall.
The doctor chuckled despite himself.
“The force in this house has a penchant for young ladies. And as it is now
aware of you, I suggest we leave and continue this interview outside.”
He began to walk down the stairs. Molly
looked for anything that might give her a clue she would once again be accosted
by an invisible agent, but the hallway was bright with sunlight and obviously
empty.
“Are you coming?” Dr. Pyre asked at the
bottom of the stairs.
Quickly, she scooped up her pen and
notepad where they had been dropped and walked down the stairs as fast as her
short dress would allow. Suddenly she yelped, her feet went out from under her,
and she fell on her behind in front of the good doctor.
“Something goosed me!” she wailed. The
doctor, his face frozen in a glare of disapproval, offered his hand to help her
up.
“Forgive me for mentioning it,” he said,
his lips set in prim annoyance, “but I couldn’t help but notice, but do you
think your choice of undergarments is appropriate for a short skirt?” He said
the words as if he would have to have his entire body dipped in boiling
disinfectant just to speak them.
Almost weeping in embarrassment and
fear, Molly ignored the offered hand and jumped to her feet, tugging at the hem
of her skirt. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I was sent here at the last minute, and I
...”
“... don’t have a clean pair of decent
underwear,” the doctor said, finishing her sentence. “Yes, well, shall we?” He
motioned for the front door, and Molly ran out of the house before she could
again be manhandled by whatever haunted the place.
Outside, the doctor closed the front
door behind him and motioned her toward the large white van. “My three
colleagues will love to meet you,” he said, again giving her a toothy grin.
“You may find their attentions equal to the force that pervades the house.”
Having recovered from her shock
and feeling safe outside in the warm sunshine, Molly turned her back on him and
walked toward the van. However, the door opened before she could knock, and she
was greeted by a thin, handsome fellow dressed in black and looking pale, dark,
and very gothic.
“Joshua Nozzi,” he said, lending her a
hand up the narrow steps. Then, bending her knee to walk up into the van, she
was again conscious of her restricting and all-too-revealing dress. Next time I pull a stunt like this, she thought, I’m dressing as a nun.
The inside of the van was a wonderland
of electronics. Everywhere lights blinked, computer monitors flashed, and
strange boards chirped and whistled. The other two men in the van looked at
their guest approvingly, and Molly sighed to herself.
“Gentlemen,” came Dr. Pyre’s voice
behind her, “And I use the term loosely. May I introduce Molly Ladanyi, a
reporter. She’s here to cover our exploits. Please be gentle. She’s already had
a run-in with what we are studying.”
The doctor motioned to the young man who
had helped her into the van. “I see you’ve already met my second-in-command.”
Joshua Nozzi nodded, his eyes strangely glued to Molly’s hemline.
“This gentleman is the electronic brains
of the outfit. May I introduce Jeff Coover?” Jeff spun around in his chair and
greeted Molly warmly. Within moments, his attention was again focused on his
computer monitor as if the electronic information streaming across the screen
was the most crucial revelation in the cosmos.
“And finally, R. Austin Smith, my
gopher.” Austin stood, smiled, and shook her hand, maintaining contact just a
little too long for comfort.
“We’re almost set up inside, gentlemen,”
Dr. Pyre said cordially. “Please be friendly to our guest.
“And if she sits down,” he said aloud to
Joshua, “give her a blanket for her lap.” Molly blushed and stared at the
computer screens.
The doctor left the van, closing the
door behind him. Molly stared uncomfortably around the van while the three men
stared comfortably at her.
“The Horse is going back inside the
house, guys,” Jeff said, finally turning to his computer screen. “We’re fifteen
minutes away from sunset and our time to rock and roll.”
Austin sighed. “I hope the Horse’s
theory is right on this one. But unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll be able to
get any more grants if his theories don’t pan out.”
“Why do you call Dr. Pyre the Horse?’”
Molly asked. “Is it a nickname?”
“Not really,” Jeff said, his eyes glued
to the computer screen. “It’s simply impolite to call the man who signs your
paycheck a jackass.”
Once again, an uncomfortable silence
came into the van, silent except for the buzzes and chirps of the electronics.
Restlessly, Molly tugged again at the hem of her dress, a nervous habit she
noticed she was developing.
“I take it there might be some
disagreements?” she asked.
There was another moment of silence.
“Off the record?” Joshua asked. Molly nodded her agreement.
“The Horse has this theory that there
are no such things as ghosts, poltergeists, and whatnot. He feels they are
natural phenomena like electromagnetic waves that sensitive people can
intercept and perceive as occult experiences.” Joshua started warming up to his
subject. “What the Horse has done is wire up a house completely so we’ll see it
no matter where a cold spot develops. If there is an electromagnetic
disturbance, we’ll record it. Tell her, Jeff.”
Jeff typed a few commands on the
keyboard, and a 3-D schematic of the house appeared on the screen. A large red
blotch slowly moved up the stairs. “This,” he said, “shows us every square inch
of the house.” He pointed to the red blotch on the screen as it slowly moved.
“Right now, we’re registering the Horse’s body heat as he moves around.”
“My turn,” Austin said. “Since the Horse
thinks the bogeyman is an electromagnetic charge, he’s prepared a hot foot for
it. He hopes to disturb its form and disrupt it. Sort of like a scientific
exorcism.” Austin had been twiddling a small pencil in his hand when it
suddenly dropped and rolled behind her. “Oh, drat!” Austin said, “Could you get
that for me?”
Without thinking, Molly spun around and
deftly picked the pencil up.
“Yeah, definitely inappropriate,” Austin
said, nodding and smiling.
“Agreed,” chimed in Joshua.
“No comment,” Jeff said, but Molly could
tell he was grinning wide enough to eat a banana sideways.
“You ...” she sputtered. “You were
watching the doctor and me when we were inside the house!” She threw the pencil
at Austin, who ducked and laughed.
“Yes,” Joshua said, “our sensors are
always on, but now let me ask you a real question.” Suddenly the smile
disappeared from his face, and he looked her straight in the eyes for the first
time. “Do you really think it was an electromagnetic force that goosed you on
the stairs?”
“The sun is setting, lady and
gentlemen,” Jeff interrupted. “It’s show time.”
Eagerly they crowded around the
monitors. In one, the house stood as a 3-D stick figure, the doctor forming an
ungainly blotch of red body heat. In another, they could see him clearly in the
video as he worked on a weird contraption that straddled the upstairs hallway.
The doctor looked at a video camera.
“Okay, gents, can you hear me?” he said.
Jeff hit a button. “Loud and clear,
boss. We’re only three minutes from show time.”
“Good,” the doctor said, smiling. “I
think we’ll see some fireworks tonight.”
“The tape is rolling,” Austin said,
hitting a button. “We’ll at least make America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
Suddenly, four blue columns appeared on
the 3-D monitor scattered at various points around the house. Jeff keyed the
mike. “The cold spots have made their appearance, boss. Right on schedule.” He
turned to Molly and pointed to the screen. “Those four columns are columns of
cold air which maintain a temperature level of precisely 13 degrees below
ambient. They appear 39 seconds after sunset and will dissipate at 4:09 AM.”
“What causes them?” Molly whispered.
Jeff shrugged. “I say spooks. The Horse
says it’s a natural phenomenon. Now here’s the best part. In about five
minutes, you’ll see an electromagnetic presence materialize in the basement.
It’ll then walk up to the first floor, up the staircase, and through the
hallway where the Horse is waiting. Finally, if undisturbed, it’ll go up to the
attic, where it will disappear.
“But you see,” Joshua interrupted,
getting excited despite himself. “The Horse is waiting with two huge electrodes
in the hallway. When the electromagnetic disturbance walks between them, he’ll
send an electric arc of 250,000 volts through its space. He thinks it may
disappear forever if it’s just an electromagnetic wave.”
“Okay, fellows,” the doctor said,
speaking into the camera. “I’m standing on the rubber mat and ready. Remember.
When I start the arc, you must kill all output from this house. The electricity
will fry everything, and I don’t have enough money to replace stuff.”
“Doc,” Jeff interrupted, “I still would
feel better if you would observe from the van. We can safely trigger the arc
from in here.”
“Nonsense!” the doctor said in curt
response. “I’m completely safe. Anyway, I want to see the culmination of my
work and the proof of my theories with my own two eyes.”
“There it is,” Austin said, pointing at
the screen. A colossal blob of blue electromagnetic force slowly formed on the
monitor in the basement.
“We got it on target, sir,” Jeff said.
“It’s starting to move.”
“So that’s the thing that pinched my
butt,” Molly said in awe.
“Shh!” the rest hissed in unison.
They watched silently as the blob moved
to the cellar staircase and made its way to the first floor. Then, finally, it
slowly went through the closed basement door and turned into the small hallway
leading to the main staircase.
Once again, Jeff keyed the mike and
whispered into the set. “Doc, it’s coming right for you. It still appears to be
moving with intelligence.”
“Nonsense,” the doctor replied in a
normal tone of voice. “Don’t personify the force. It’s no more than an
electromagnetic wave.” He smiled smugly into the camera.
“Arrogant little bugger, isn’t he?”
Molly whispered to no one in particular. Nobody spoke up to disagree with her.
“Starting countdown, Doc,” Jeff said.
“I’ll turn off electronics when I reach three.”
“Seven ...”
“Six ...”
“Five ...”
“Four ... Good luck, doctor.”
“Three.”
Jeff hit the switch, the van’s interior
went jet black, and silence reigned except for their breathing and the noise
from a safety mike on the first-floor landing.
Suddenly, the sound of an electric arc
filled the cramped van, its sizzle amplified by the speakers. It was
immediately followed by an unearthly howl of rage and pain, followed yet again
by the doctor’s screams of fear and agony.
“Hit the cameras,” Austin yelled, but
Jeff was already swatting at the On button. They seemed to wait an eternity
while the monitors came to life. The speakers remained dead.
The camera on the second floor was lying
on its side, but it showed all too clearly the remains of the good doctor. The
three men and Molly stared at the image in shock and horror.
“Something chewed his face off!” Joshua
whispered in awe.
“Why ... why ... why, that’s wonderful!”
Molly stuttered.
The three men looked at her in stunned
surprise.
“I mean, it’s a tragedy, but this story
will make my career,” she explained. “I’m going to be famous!”
They all returned their stare to the
monitor and the mangled remains of the doctor.
“I am NOT cleaning that up,” Austin
muttered.
“That’s no problem,” Jeff responded.
“That’s why we elect coroners.” Jeff spun around and looked at Molly. “My van
is right outside, and I know you’ll want quotes for your story. Do you like
sushi?”
Joshua and Austin held their breath in
stunned silence, hoping she’d say no.
“Why,” Molly said, “if you’re paying, I
think you got a date.”
The other men moaned their
disappointment. “But,” Molly added brightly, “I’ll still need to interview you
two.” She winked. “At a future date, that is.”
Later, after the four had left the van,
but before the coroner’s arrival, the monitor showing the 3-D map of the house
displayed a small blue column of cold air slowly materializing over the corpse
of the late doctor.
