Mona and Mason: The Paranormal Chronicles, Vol 1

“They say Old Man Bennett was bludgeoned to death with a sledgehammer while he was sleeping.”

“No way. It was with an ax.”

“Dude, you’re both idiots. It was a baseball bat.”

“I heard it was a golf club.”

The three boys standing in her way jumped, screaming. She held back her laughter, amazingly enough, when all three boys stared at her with wide eyes.

Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was a putter. He was hit so many times, no one could be sure it was him. His face had been obliterated.”

“Who are you, lady?” the oldest boy said. At least, she assumed so by the way he straightened up as tall as he could with an air of confidence the other two boys lacked. 

Propping a hand to her hip, she smirked. The evil smirk she liked to use with her old neighborhood boy who liked to throw pebbles at her car. “I’m the new owner of this house. So, I would say I know how the story goes.”

The two younger boys’ eyes grew even rounder.

The oldest boy jerked, yet held his stance. “You actually bought this house? You know it’s haunted, right? Old Man Bennett roams around, groaning and moaning.”

“How would you know? Have you ever been inside?”

The boy shrugged. “Everyone knows that.”

Mona glanced at the house. The lawn looked like it had been neglected for a long time. It stood at least two feet tall. She’d have to hire a lawn service because she wouldn’t be breaking her back to mow that crap. The steps looked worn, cracked paint, but sturdy. Hopefully, anyway. This was her first time visiting it.

She almost started laughing hysterically.

She bought the damn house without even looking at it.

As she perused the entire outside of the house, it looked like the whole thing needed a new coat of paint. A bright white or maybe sunny yellow. Because, as it stood now, with black and gray peeling paint, it looked just as dreary and haunted as the boys claimed it was.

Who painted a house black and gray? So odd.

But so was her impulse to buy a house she had never seen before.

This was what she got for trusting her real estate agent. She was always a sucker for helping people out, especially someone she considered a good friend. When her friend said she couldn’t sell this house, even if she sold her soul, she told her she’d buy it.

Never again. How could she be so stupid?

The windows were dirty, filled with grime and…was that soot? Had there been a fire inside?

Next time she’d have to turn a blind eye to a poor soul and look at a house before she purchased it.

Yet she had wanted to escape. Flee far away from all her problems.

It looked as if she’d fled straight into new problems.

“Why do you look weird?”

Turning her attention back to the older boy, she arched a brow. “Why are you a rude little boy? Perhaps I’ll tell Old Man Bennett to pay you a visit…” She leaned closer. “While you’re sleeping.”

All three boys jumped back as the older boy said with a shaky voice, “You’re crazy, lady.”

“No, I’m your worst nightmare.” She cackled, pretty decently if she did say so herself, and then whispered, “Boo.”

The boys didn’t stick around for more. They turned and fled down the sidewalk.

“I am crazy. Already making enemies of the neighborhood boys. Why do kids hate me?” She glanced around, noting the street and sidewalk was empty. No one would be answering her question.

With her house surrounded by two fields, yet the other side of the street layered with a few houses, she knew she wouldn’t have many visitors. Except if they wanted to catch a glimpse of Old Man Bennett. At least two of the other homes looked like they were for sale. Nobody wanted to live in the neighborhood.

She laughed out loud. “Haunted. Yeah, right. Just what I need.” Grabbing her suitcase from the backseat of her car, she started up the walkway. “You and me, Old Man, better get along. I get cranky when I’m hungry, I don’t like to share the remote control, and when I’m cleaning, I like my music loud. I’m just throwing that out there.”

She paused at the bottom of the porch stairs. From a distance, they looked sturdy. Closeup, she had concerns her feet might fall through.

“And weird? Who asks that kind of question?”

Glancing at her outfit, she rolled her eyes. So maybe she was dressed a bit weird. She had on an orange tank top with black straps and a floral skirt with patches sewn around here and there. Her mother made it for her. She feigned happiness when her mother gave her the present but secretly hated it. Her mother never did care what others thought. Growing up had been difficult with a carefree mother who did and said weird things.

Oh, no. She just acted like her mother.

Since her mother recently passed away, she didn’t have the heart to throw the outfit out or anything else her mother had ever given her. When she found the clothes hidden in the bottom of her drawer as she packed up her stuff, she put it on. She instantly felt closer to her mom.

So maybe she looked weird, a little mismatched.

She apparently bought a haunted house.

She scared the local kids.

She got fired from her job. Which really wasn’t her fault. How was she supposed to know her new supervisor had been married? Lost and confused after her mom died, she fell into his arms without thinking about it. Well, his wife sure cleared up the confusion. And the president of the company further solved that dilemma by letting her go. Because, of course, her new supervisor was married to his niece.

Bad luck.

That was her life.

Wherever she went, bad luck followed.

“It’s just a house. A silly, stupid house that my friend couldn’t sell because it looks like shit on the outside. That’s all.”

Pep talk firmly done, she let out a big breath and climbed the porch steps. Surprisingly, they felt very sturdy, although they looked rotted to the bone.

Unlocking the door with the key her friend gave her, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“Did I walk into the right house? Because this doesn’t look right. I should stop talking to myself, too. That makes me even stranger.”

Barely stepping away from the front door, she glanced around the foyer. A large foyer that appeared clean and dust-free. A large, winding staircase was in front of her with a big, gleaming chandelier hanging above. To her right looked like the living room furnished with a white couch and two small, decorative chairs. They looked extremely uncomfortable. To her left, a small room, maybe a parlor. Wasn’t that what it was called? She had no idea, but she liked the idea of calling it a parlor, receiving her guests there first with a sweet treat.

And she was getting distracted with fanciful ideas. Nobody would probably visit her.

She also noticed a hallway that she assumed would lead her to the kitchen.

Everything looked clean and pristine. Did her friend hire a cleaning crew? Based on the decrepit look outside, she expected to see the same inside.

“I can work with this. I like this.”

Meow.

Screaming and jumping, she twirled to her right to see a black cat.

Hand over her heart, she laughed. “I don’t do cats. You’re going to have to leave, big fella.”

Meow. Hiss.

Taking a step back, she stopped when she realized she was retreating. “No way. I’m the boss here. Not you. You get out.”

The front door slammed.

Jumping again, this time toward the staircase, she looked at the front door, then at the cat. Strangely enough, the cat looked at the door and then at her.

“The wind did it.”

The cat stared at her, its bright-green eyes glowing as if it knew something she didn’t. Something she should know.

Yeah, like Old Man Bennett haunted the place.

“Look here, Old Man. It’s my house now. Not yours. You and the black cat better pack your shit and go. I’m crazy, if you haven’t noticed.”

There. That would show everyone—cat, ghost, hell, even the tiny spiders she imagined lingered in the dark corners—who was the boss around here. Because she was done letting people run all over her. Even a cat and a ghost. No way would they be running her out of here.

A door slammed upstairs.

Meooooow.

Between the cat and the door slamming, she needed a drink.

“It’s only the wind.”

Nodding to herself that it couldn’t be anything but the wind, she set her suitcase down and headed for the front door to grab more of her belongings. Like the box full of her liquor supply tucked away in the trunk.

When she twisted the knob, it wouldn’t budge.

Meow.

“Is this why the house never sold? Because once you step inside, you never leave.”

Meow.

“Oh, shut up. Dumb cat.”

A cold hand touched her shoulder.

Shrieking, she turned around and faced—nothing.

Nobody stood there.

Instead of letting the fear take over, she let the anger consume her. Because if she was going to be stuck in a haunted house with a bludgeoned dead man and an annoying black cat, she could’ve at least brought in the box with the liquor and snacks.

She was hungry, damn it. And nothing good ever happened when she was hungry.

***

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