Nightly Haunting on Kingsley Hills – Part two of two

Case re-opened …

case re-opened
When it was a Sanatorium

Jackson Kingsley motioned Detective Finney back inside from the terrace. As he began refreshing their
drinks, he paused and looked over at Finney who had just sat down in one of the white overstuffed chairs.
Finney clearly admired the decor of the room and softly rubbed the arms of the velvet chair. “Nice,” he
commented.

“Thank you. I like white with just a touch of red here and there. It is provacative … and gives me a sense of
harmony,” he finished the drinks and carried them over, sitting in the chair facing Finney. “You never told
me, Finney, why has the case re-opened after so many years?”

Finney sipped his drink, sat it down on a red coaster on the glass-top table, then leaned forward with arms
resting on knees. “Mr. Kingsley, the case re-opened and I was put in charge of it because I was the lead
investigator on your grandfather’s disappearance. It seems that your Georgia Martin has disappeared in the
same manner your grandfather did twenty years ago.”

Jackson was shocked. “What? Miss Georgia disappeared? When? Are there any leads, clues?” His hand was
shaking so bad the ice was clinking so he sat it down.

“None … absolutely none.” Finney raised both hands in a gesture of frustration. “I was called out of retirement
the day after it happened almost a week ago. I came out here in hopes that you could help me.”

Jackson, too, was leaning forward with arms on knees. “How can I possibly help, Finney? Just like before, I
was not there when it happened.”

“During the investigation in your grandfather’s case I spoke with Miss Martin several times. In fact, over the
years we often met and became very good friends. In a few conversations we had I recall her telling me she
was psychic, clairvoyant and a seer. She told me that you also have these abilities. She also told me about
Mrs. Pedderson – the ghost who haunted you when you were a child.”

Jackson lowered his head and ran both hands through his hair. He dropped his hands back to his knees and
leaned back in despair. “Yes, I am very psychic, but try to forget it and I can’t. I do manage to conceal it from
everyone, but, Miss Georgia always knew and helped me to accept it and learn how to deal with it. “Embrace
it as a special gift, Jackson”, she always told me. I finally did, but since being out here I keep it to myself. In
fact, I settled in this area and this building because there is no activity around here.”

“Activity?” Finney asked. “Spiritual activity. No spirits wandering around. I don’t know why, but the area
is just clean, no hauntings or anything like that.” Jackson picked up his glass and downed the contents.
When he sat it down he looked at Finney. “And that is why you want me to go back with you and see the
case re-opened, both cases, right?”

“Exactly.” Finney leaned back.

Case Re-opened ~

“So, why did you block it all out when your grandfather disappeared?” They were in Georgia Martin’s
apartment. Jackson was walking around the rooms slowly, looking very alert. “Because it terrfied me,
Finney! I left here because I did not like what was here. When I came back after Grandfather’s disappearance
I could not stand it and I subconsciously blocked it all out. Right now I am open and sensing something I
don’t like at all. She is not here,” he touched a wall with both hands. “And she is not dead. Neither is my
Grandfather!”

“What!” Finney was flabbergasted. “How can that be? What do you mean? It has been twenty years and you
say he is not dead?” Finney collapsed in a chair. “Jackson, what are you saying?”

Jackson was not listening. He was running his hands along different walls as if he was trying to find
something. Suddenly he stopped and looked up. “They are in Grandfather’s rooms,” he spoke slowly and low,
almost whispering. Finney was so shocked he could not speak. “I was trying to find out if there is a portal, an opening to the other side – to the realm where Grandfather and Miss Georgia are. She must have found out Grandfather was there and began looking for a portal to enter,” He placed both hands on hips and stared at Finney.  “It is here!” He tapped the wall. “But it has closed. We need to go up to the fourth floor.”

Finney saw a different side of Jackson now. He was confident and that old fear was not slipping through. He sensed a powerful force within Jackson.

Jackson hurried into Georgia’s bedroom and took her crucifix off the wall. He came back out and told Finney, “Call Miss Georgia’s church and tell Father Collins to get over here now and bring some holy water –
lots of it!” He then found a hammer and nails and nailed  the Crucifix on the wall where the portal was.
~ ~

Jackson had the key to his grandfather’s suite ready as they turned the corner at the end of the hall. All
three men held a vial of holy water and wore crosses. When Jackson opened the door a blast of cold air hit
them hard, almost pushing them back into the hall. Father Collins said, “Hold steady!” and they braced
themselves.

“When you went back to your hotel in San Francisco, Finney, I did some research on this building when it
was the sanatorium. Because this area of the building was more remote from the others it is an area of anger
and evil.” Jackson was looking around as they kept close together and slowly walked through the rooms.
“This is where they kept the most deranged patients … and they were horribly abused. A Mrs. Pedderson was
the head nurse and apparently glorified in mentally torturing the patients. She kept all doors to this entire
floor locked and barred from everyone except her staff and the patients.”

“Jackson, how can Miss Martin still be alive? She has been gone over a week now … and your grandfather
after twenty years?” Finney whispered.

Mrs. Pedderson and three other demons suddenly confronted them angrily and threatening, baring teeth
and growled with voices not human. Father Collins began splashing them with holy water, so did Jackson.
Finney was terrified, but did the same. The demons backed away, hissing, growling and screaming as they slowly faded in agony.

Georgia Martin opened a door and came out of one of the bedrooms, helping Joseph Kingsley to walk. He had
aged considerably and was weak. “Help me,” she whispered. Finney and Jackson helped them back to the main door. Jackson locked the door as the priest splashed more holy water all around.

When they were outside in front of the building, all residents were out there waiting. Finney had called the
Captain of the police force and told him to bring as many officers and firemen as he could to evacuate all
residents.

“To answer your question, Detective Finney,” said Father Collins, “about how can they still be alive, we don’t
know and are not meant to know. It is in the hands of my Boss.”
~ ~

Kingsley Hills was condemned and demolished.
~

© 2016 Phyllis Doyle Burns

Phyllis Doyle Burns
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Phyllis Doyle Burns

Site Manager, Senior Editor at The Creative Exiles
I have always liked to write.It is important to me that I write with spirit and heart. When writing poetry, if I do not feel a spiritual connection to what I am writing on, I will discard it and go on to something I can connect with on a spiritual level. I live in the moment, I write from the past or beyond the veil. When writing fiction I go with whatever inspires me at the moment - it could be funny, sorrowful, romantic or sometimes done with the use of colloquial language from mountain folk or other cultural regions. Thank you for visiting.
Phyllis Doyle Burns
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Phyllis Doyle Burns

I have always liked to write. It is important to me that I write with spirit and heart. When writing poetry, if I do not feel a spiritual connection to what I am writing on, I will discard it and go on to something I can connect with on a spiritual level. I live in the moment, I write from the past or beyond the veil. When writing fiction I go with whatever inspires me at the moment - it could be funny, sorrowful, romantic or sometimes done with the use of colloquial language from mountain folk or other cultural regions. Thank you for visiting.

6 thoughts on “Nightly Haunting on Kingsley Hills – Part two of two

  • October 13, 2016 at 10:25 PM
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    Nicely done Phyllis, supper suspenseful and intriguing all the way. A great story artfully told with spot on characterization and succinct in its structure. You are a very talented story teller. Kudos.

    Reply
    • October 14, 2016 at 5:00 AM
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      Thank you very much Tony. I greatly appreciate your thoughts and compliments on my story and my skills. Take care.

      Reply
  • November 12, 2016 at 12:10 PM
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    Something I’ve neglected to tell you Phyllis is how much I admire your story ideas. This one is simply superb and I really enjoyed it!

    Reply

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