SANDY
When I learned what happened to Sandy, my heart dropped. The events involved were bizarre, yet I couldn’t have imagined how terrifying they truly were. And that damned house didn’t sit well with me from the beginning. I’m Cole Mendoza. My story documents the strange circumstances concerning the town of Ravensblood and Sandra Breyer. It may be hard to believe but the following events are true.
Early May
“I bought a house, Cole! It’s a Queen Anne Victorian!” Sandy said to me over the phone.
“That’s great!” I said.
“It’s red with white trim. I’ve always wanted one just like it. I’ve moved to Ravensblood.”
“Ravensblood? What kind of name is that? Is it anywhere near that town called Hell?”
“No,” Sandy chuckled. “Hell is west of Detroit. Ravensblood is six-hours north and sits along a river.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to move. When did you do it?”
“Last month. Bad memories live in my old house. You know, everything involving Peter. I miss Detroit but needed to move on. I don’t want to feel ‘un’ anymore.”
Un was how Sandy described feeling sad, alone, or depressed.
“A new house and a new life,” Sandy said. “I’m back to using my maiden name. The Victorian needs work, but I got a good land contract deal. Somehow, I know I need to be here. You have to come see the house, Cole. When can I give you a tour?”
It was one of the rare times Sandy was happy since her divorce. Eager to check it out, I took the long drive in my black Jeep Rubicon the following weekend. After making it to Ravensblood, I steered through the small downtown area on Main Street. The locals bustled among small, charming shops and eateries. I passed by a quaint park as the sun glistened off the river behind it.
Outside of town on the way to Sandy’s house, large fields, barns and roadkill were abundant along winding dirt roads. I spider-webbed through the rural area until encountering the large red Victorian, trimmed in white, like Sandy described. It was situated back from Arkham Road and surrounded by woods; the nearest neighbor blocks away. A tall green spruce stood on the front lawn, casting a pleasant shade on the grass.
Sandy’s orange Volkswagen Beetle was parked in the cement driveway. While pulling up behind it, a huge black bird landed on the old porch banister. As I exited my vehicle, it let out a deep hoarse croak while gazing at me with shiny black eyes.
Sandy opened the oak front door with a smile, her soft features aglow and blonde hair touching her shoulders. She was a great looking woman in her fifties.
“Cole! It’s good to see you, hun! It’s been too long.”
“Good to see you too, Sandy,” I said, treading toward the porch. The black bird squawked then flew away with brash flapping wings.
“Was that a friend of yours?” I asked.
“Oh, the raven?” she said, greeting me as I headed up the steps. “He comes around. Plenty of animals share the space around here.”
She gave me a hug.
“Blonde, huh?” I said. “Looks good. I like the bangs.”
“You know, making changes and all.”
“Working on a tan too, I see. Catching rays?”
“I am. I’ve been doing lots of yard work in the sun. I’ll have your skin tone soon enough. Shame I don’t have your dark wavey hair to go with it. I see you’re keeping it clean-cut now. How’s the executive security business?”
“It’s good. Black Wolf is growing. We landed enough high-profile clients to move headquarters downtown.”
“I’ve always worried about you doing bodyguard work,” Sandy said, leading me through the front door. “It’s too dangerous. Be careful, Cole.”
She led me into the large main hall. Thick gold frames surrounded paintings hung on light beige walls.
“Don’t you just love it?” Sandy asked.
“I do. It’s fantastic. The house is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”
Somehow the old style was appealing. In the main hall against the left wall was a long dark wooden staircase with a landing at the top. Stairs continued from the landing up to the right leading to the second floor. Directly above us, a loud heavy creak came from the ceiling. Then two more. Footsteps. Someone was walking on the second floor.
“Who’s upstairs? Do you have company, Sandy?”
“No, I don’t,” Sandy said with a reassuring smile. “There’s no one upstairs. It’s the house settling, that’s all.”
“Are you sure? It sounds like someone is up there walking around.”
“Oh, this old place makes all kinds of creepy noises. You know, the furnace, the pipes, things like that. It’s nobody.”
My bodyguard instincts kicked in.
“Are you sure? Maybe I should check it out?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s nothing. Just an old house.”
“Alright,” I said, trusting her judgement.
To the immediate right of the hall, I was escorted through an archway into a long living room, almost stretching to the back of the house. Two white French doors on each side of the wide entrance swung inward, resting against primrose-colored walls on which hung more paintings.
A large mahogany fireplace lay against the wall directly ahead. Two gold candle holders rested on the mantel, each held a long, unburned white candle. Old Victorian-style furniture matched the decor.
“This isn’t your old furniture,” I said, touching the sky-blue couch.
“I sold mine. All of this furniture came with the house, including the paintings.”
On the coffee table sat a game of chess with glass pieces.
“Remember when I was a kid, I used to come to your house, and we’d play for hours? I knew you’d let me win.”
“You were eleven at the time. I didn’t mind and enjoyed the company.”
“We enjoyed yours too. My parents were grateful for you. When they were struggling you helped us. A home cooked meal was always ready, and you bought clothes for my brothers and me when we needed them. You were always our second mom, Sandy.”
“I appreciated your family. You knew I was alone and were there for me. Your parents were great friends. But when I married Pete, he wouldn’t let me out of the house.”
“Well, we don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be locked up for a long while for his abuse.”
“How’s your love life, Cole?” Sandy asked, changing the subject. “Has any special woman captured your heart?”
“No, I’m not dating,” I said with a smirk. “I’m focusing on expanding the company right now. There’s nobody out there for me anyway.”
“Don’t be so sure. When you meet her, you’ll know.”
We stepped up to the sizable painting hanging above the fireplace. It was an oil on canvas of a red Victorian with white trim, situated in front of the woods with a gray sky and large pale moon above.
“That looks like this Victorian,” I said. “Is it the same house?”
“It is. It must have been commissioned by previous owners.”
The mood of the piece was dark and ominous, giving a sensation of discomfort.
Stepping back into the main hall, we made a sharp right, passing more paintings down the hallway. At the back of the house, we entered a light blue colored room decorated with large sprouting green plants placed around. There was a white wicker chair near the window, a small table next to it, and a footrest in front. An enormous grandfather clock stood against the wall.
“This is my sanctuary,” Sandy said. “A place to unwind and have tea. I’m going to buy an aquarium and put it on the table next to the broken clock.”
“What’s wrong with the grandfather?”
“Oh, it tells time, but it doesn’t sound. The chime mechanism is broken.”
“That’s okay. You wouldn’t want to be interrupted while relaxing in here. Looks like a good place to de-stress.”
I gazed out the large back window of her sanctuary. The red brick garage sat at the back of the yard, in front of the wood’s edge. Behind it, to the left was a huge oak tree, its trunk strangely shaped like a man. It divided upward into two thick arm-like branches with a rounded protuberance in the middle, like a head. Though odd, I made no comment about it.
We exited the small jungle back into the hall, making another right turn. The bathroom was next to the sanctuary, containing a clawed feet tub and an old pedestal sink. Next to the bathroom, we entered the kitchen. White cabinets with glass doors lined the sunshine-yellow walls. The countertop was expensive marble, and the back door led to an enclosed porch.
We went through a doorway on the left, into the dining room, painted mint green. A glass dining table was placed in the center with a crystal chandelier hanging above. Again, paintings on the walls. A final left brought us back into the main hall in front of the stairwell. We had traveled in the shape of a square.
“Let’s have a look upstairs,” Sandy suggested.
The steps moaned as she led me up to the landing then made the sharp right up the smaller flight. The hall on the second floor was in the shape of a hook, the empty space of the stairwell in the center.
Sandy revealed the master bedroom, which contained a queen-sized bed with a wooden frame. The guest bedroom had a twin. There was also a cozy study, with shelves loaded with books to the right, and an oak desk at the back wall, accompanied by a brown leather chair.
“What’s behind the last door on the end of the hall?” I asked.
“Oh, that leads to the attic. It’s filled with clutter and junk. It needs to be cleaned. You’re tall, Cole. Six feet, right?
“Yeah, six feet even.”
“Can you change the light bulb up there for me later? It went out earlier today.”
A loud thump came from the ceiling above. Then a thud followed by the sounds of creaking footsteps. Someone was up in the attic.
Ravensblood 