Lady of the House, Part 3

To start from the beginning of this three part series, read Part 1 Don't Cross the Witch.

Bitter Sweet Release

Christopher placed both hands on the outside wall of the rundown, one story house and concentrated. This house had been calling to him all day, as they all do. He'd felt it as soon as he arrived in town that morning. Souls seem to get louder when they know he is near. Release from their worldly prison is the only thing most of them desire. Most of them, anyway. There are always the occasional few that are trapped by their own doing and still too stubborn to seek help. Those are the toughest ones to deal with.

This spirit, however, was trapped in her home by a sudden heart attack. She didn't quite know she was dead, even though it had been 23 years since it happened. Feeling his strong presence in town, she could probably see his light, even from the other side of town. She likely focused on it and pulled at it, as if it was the only light she could see. With his hands on the outside of the house now, he could clearly see the despair on her face. She'd only just been married a year before her death, which is probably why she didn't accept her own passing. Too many things left undone.

Christopher felt the tragic loss of such a young, seemingly healthy woman to something like a heart attack. She wanted to stay and wait for her husband. They were planning to have children. Christopher calmed her and assured her that the light was where she wanted to go. A tear gently rolled down his cheek as he explained that everything was different but that was okay, too. “Once you go into the light, you'll be exactly where you want to be. Peace is in the light.” He didn't speak these words but, rather, he thought them in his mind. Feeling her resistance fading, he pushed his light outward so she could easily enter it and cross over. That was his main role, to guide lost or trapped souls to the afterlife where they could be free. Sometimes, he did this for free and sometimes he accepted jobs to clear a building, usually for people trying to sell their haunted home or business. This current job was easier than most. This woman was a good and loving soul who was simply heartbroken, literally and figuratively. Once he broadened his light and explained things, she entered without much hesitation. She was free.

Christopher's parents knew of his abilities and encouraged it from the time he graduated high school. His mother taught him how to monetize it by advertising that he could cleanse buildings and land of hauntings. He got all of his work these days from word of mouth. Realtors who were stuck with a home that wouldn't sell or kept coming back to them were all too happy to employee him after hearing of his work from other Realtors. His next job was just one city over so he checked in with this house's owner and assured them that their ghost had moved on. He was used to people being overly skeptical. After all, it was pretty unbelievable that a man could simply place his hands on the outside of a building for a few minutes and clear the entire house when many a psychic had failed to do so with months of trying. The home owner was happy to hear the work was done and wished Christopher well with an online transfer of the agreed upon price.

Nerves were never usually an issue for him, having done this for more than a decade now. However, this next job definitely had a negative vibe to it. The sheriff hadn't given him many details, except to insist that it was a dangerous house with many deaths reported inside the building. He'd been relieved to hear that Christopher didn't usually need to go inside a building and stressed that was the best approach with this specific house.

There were a few red flags.

One, why was a sheriff hiring him to clear an abandoned house and not someone trying to sell it? When Christopher had asked about their plans after he was done, the sheriff was quick to answer that the place would be torn down. Why not tear it down now? Why wait until it was cleared?

Two, why were there so many deaths reported after the haunting began? If this spirit was killing the living, that would be a first for Christopher. He wasn't sure how to handle something like that. It's so rare that he'd never come across it before.

Three, why did he have to attempt his cleansing not just during the day, but also during a sunny day? What on earth does the sun have to do with putting his hands on a house and crossing over the spirits within it?

Christopher had many questions running through his mind when he stepped into the coffee shop they'd agreed to meet in. One question he didn't have, however, was where the house was located. That house pulled at him like a black hole. It almost took his breath away with it's first tug as he approached town. It didn't feel like a spirit was pulling at him, it felt like something trying to feed off of him instead. That was something he'd only ever felt once, when he'd cleansed a house that devil worship was performed in.

The worshipers murdered a young woman during their ceremony. Not only did Christopher have to calm and crossover the young lady, he also had to contend with what he considered to be true evil. People can have evil intention in their hearts but true evil, on its own, was quite a different beast all together. It took him an entire day to dispatch the evil from that home. He'd sent it straight into the ground about 20 miles, by his own estimation. That's the only way he could seal it so it could never gain access to humans again. It had taken him three days of bed rest to recuperate. He was not looking to repeat that experience.

The coffee shop was a small family owned establishment in the town's center. Such a small, quaint little town that it barely qualified as a city. It was one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of towns with a flashing traffic light as it's defining feature. Well, that and the haunted house of death, apparently. Christopher actually heard a couple talking about the house as he waited for the sheriff to show up. They didn't give much detail in their conversation. They were talking about homes for sale in the area and said they would not be considering any home in the haunted house's neighborhood. They didn't even want to be in the same neighborhood as that house. Lovely.

A moment later, a flustered man came stalking into the coffee shop dressed in a police uniform. This was Christopher's lunch date, he surmised. Judging by the way he entered the shop and approached the table, this was his first break all day. Why would the sheriff of such a small town be so busy?

“Christopher Lunder, I assume?” Sheriff Roberts said as he approached the table.

“Yes, Sir. You must be Sheriff Roberts.” Christopher said as he rose to shake the sheriff's hand. “It's nice to meet you.”

“You say that now but let's wait until you get on location. You might be singing a different tune.” the sheriff answered while giving Christopher a quick nod and hand shake. “I wonder if we could take this meeting on the road? Would you mind riding with me to the site?” Sheriff Roberts asked.

“I guess that would be alright. I do have some questions, though.” Christopher responded.

“I'm sure you do. I'd prefer that conversation to take place in private. We can talk on the way.” Sheriff Roberts said as he turned and motioned toward the door.

“Alright. Lead the way.” Christopher said as he followed the sheriff out of the shop. Once the two men were in the sheriff's car and pulling away from the parking lot, the sheriff began to speak more freely.

“Our little town is a pretty quiet place, as I'm sure you can imagine. The only real issue we keep having to deal with is this house. For as long as I can remember, the house has been abandoned. Everyone knows not to go in it but every few years, you get some curious teenagers or an unfortunate transient who doesn't know any better. And then all hell breaks loose. Frankly, I'm getting tired of cleaning up the mess.” Sheriff Roberts explained.

“What do you mean by cleaning up the mess?” Christopher asked with growing concern.

“I mean it both ways. Tired of getting explanations of what happened sorted out so the public remains calm and tired of literally cleaning up crime scenes. These kids were good kids. I'm tired of telling parents that their kids aren't coming home and giving them inadequate explanations as to why.” Sheriff Roberts said. “I'm just tired.”

“Okay. I need a clear explanation of what I'm dealing with here. Exactly what do you think is happening in this house and when did it start? Christopher asked. He was done with beating around the bush and needed some real information.

“I don't know when it started or why. I was always told as a kid not to go onto that property and definitely not to go into the house. It was always kept boarded up tight. I guess I'm lucky I was never brave enough to accept a dare to go in. Other kids were. Most of them came out in body bags.” Sheriff Roberts explained as he drove through town.

“What do you think happens inside the house?” Christopher asked, now intrigued and worried.

“We aren't exactly sure but there is one steadfast rule. Never, ever find yourself inside the house when the sun goes down.” Sheriff Roberts stated this rule as if it made total sense to an outsider like Christopher.

“What do you mean? What happens when the sun goes down?” Christopher asked.

“If the sun goes down, or is even blocked by a cloud, she shows up.” was all Sheriff Roberts gave as an answer. Christopher needed more.

“Who is she and what does she do?” Christopher was starting to feel like he had to drag the answers out of the reluctant Sheriff Roberts.

“Sorry if I seem vague. I'm not used to sharing this much information about the house. It's not something we divulge to many people.” Sheriff Roberts began.

“I did some research on the house and property and think it might be the original home owner, a woman named Ambrosine Walker. Her husband built the home in the 1800s. There is a death certificate for him but none for her. She seems to have vanished or moved away with no other paper trail. The rumor is that she was accused of witchcraft and run out of town but I think she either stayed or came back.” Sheriff Roberts said.

“If the sun goes down or is blocked from directly touching the house, it locks up like a fortress. There are no locks but the doors won't open. The windows won't shatter. The walls won't break. As soon as the sun touches the house again, the doors and windows will open. You can damage the house at that point. But the minute the sun goes down, the house rebuilds itself in an instant. I've never seen or heard of anything like it.” Sheriff Roberts trailed off for a moment. Christopher waited patiently to hear more.

“We've tried to demolish the house five times during my 15 years as sheriff. Who knows how many have tried before me.” Sheriff Roberts gazed at the road in deep thought.

Christopher gently pressed him for more info. “Have you ever seen her?”

“Only once, through a window. That was enough. But I've heard her plenty of times. She only laughs. Sometimes, it's a faint giggle. Other times, full laughter. When the sun is touching the house, it seems that she can't or doesn't come out. You're relatively safe if the sun is out but once it's not....Once that house locks down, it's just a matter of avoiding her until you can get out again. I've only known a few people who were successful at that and they were only trapped for a few minutes. If you're in there over night, there's no hope.” Sheriff Roberts trailed off again, obviously thinking of all the bodies he'd pulled out of that house over the years.

Christopher was at a loss for words and dreading their arrival to the house. He knew they were very close because his energy felt drained and pulled tightly at the same time. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes until the sheriff pulled onto the street.

“Here it is.” Sheriff Roberts said.

“I know.” was Christopher's simple reply.

The house was more like a manor, large and daunting. Although he knew it was very old, it didn't look as rundown as he imagined it would. Maybe that's because it fixed itself. He wasn't sure. Once they stepped out of the car, Christopher's first observation was the loud and numerous voices coming from the house. Some were crying but they all seemed to beg to be let out of the house. He would definitely have to block that out in order to focus on his other abilities. Otherwise, he'd be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes. He couldn't help but wonder how many people died in there? It sounded like quite a crowd of people to keep this lady company.

“The first thing I need to do is walk the perimeter of the house. I don't want any surprises.” Christopher said to the sheriff, half expecting him to wait in the car.

“Okay, lets go.” Sheriff Roberts said, noticeably uneasy.

“You don't have to come with me if you don't want to.” Christopher said.

“I'll be with you every single time you are here. This house has claimed too many lives, some of which I feel responsible for. I'll not be adding your name to that list.” Sheriff Roberts replied as he motioned for Christopher to lead the way.

Christopher gave him a nod of appreciation and started toward the house. This sheriff was obviously a good man who was desperate to stop the killings in this house. Christopher respected that and felt more certain that he needed to try to help him, even if it was dangerous.

A woman across the street peered out through her window when she saw the police car pull up. She was used to seeing it but felt surprised to see the sheriff get out along with another man who wasn't in police clothing. This man was about 6 feet tall, clean cut, with short dark hair and a light collared shirt with dark denim jeans. The two of them seemed to be discussing the house and began to walk toward the back. She wasn't sure if she wanted to keep watch in case they ran into trouble or close the blinds completely and save herself the torture of witnessing more death. She chose to close the blinds. Her nerves were shot.

The men began to walk around the house on the right side, high stepping through the free growing grass and brush. Christopher began to hear a type of voice he hadn't encountered before. It was so high pitched that he thought it was noise pollution from one of the few neighbors on that street. A pull alerted him that this sound might actually be a spirit of some kind, although he couldn't place it. Nearing the back, right corner of the house, Christopher stopped just around the corner and put his hand to the ground.

“Something is here. It's small. This energy signature is new to me.” Christopher said. The sheriff stayed quiet and let Christopher work, even if he didn't understand it.

“It's a tiny body with wings. But it's head is over there.” he said, while motioning a few feet closer to the house. “I think it might be a fairy. It's crying. And it's angry. Betrayed and lured to a violent death.” Christopher closed his eyes and began to calm the creature. After a moment more of silence, Christopher stood and looked Sheriff Roberts in the eyes.

“This is going to sound far fetched, maybe even crazy.” Christopher began.

“We passed far fetched and crazy a long ass time ago, son.” the sheriff replied.

“I think a fairy's body is here because our resident witch caught it, ripped it's head off, and drank it's blood in some sort of spell or ritual. I think that's how she came to be what she is now. Whatever that is, anyway.” Christopher said.

“How do you know that?” the sheriff asked in amazement.

“Because the fairy just explained it to me before I helped it cross over.” was Christopher's simple reply.

“I didn't know fairies could cross over. Or existed.” Sheriff Roberts said.

“I didn't, either.” Christopher said.

The men continued a few more steps into the back yard when Christopher seemed to make a beeline for a large, dead tree toward the back left corner of the yard. He paused at the base of the tree and knelt again, touching the ground with his hand once more.

“There's a baby here. Her baby, stillborn. I think it must've happened before she changed because the baby seems normal. The cord was wrapped around it's neck at birth. I feel much love and sorrow here.” Christopher said as he stood and looked at the lowest branch of the tree, about level to his own head. “This branch, however, held another witch to her death. They burned her body over there when the hanging was done. She was an experienced and wise woman. I don't need to cross her over. She knew just what to do.”

“You can see all of that?” Sheriff Roberts asked with wonder. He seemed to genuinely believe Christopher, which was a nice change of pace. Probably because of all he'd dealt with on this property. He already knew about the things that go bump in the night. No need to convince him.

“Yes, and she's showing me exactly what I need to know.” Christopher said, looking back toward the house. “I can see what she saw in her last moments hanging from this tree. The lady of the house drank something and then drank the fairy's blood. Those two things combined and turned her into something undead but also paranormal. She's kind of...in both realms. She's a real thing but can travel from our dimension to the afterlife and back again. I can't tell if she's stuck in the house or if she chooses to be here to protect it. It might be a little of both.” Christopher explained.

“The main question I have is how do we get rid of her? Or at least lift whatever spell is on the house so we can get rid of it?” Sheriff Roberts asked.

“It's a curse. I think the fairy placed it in order to keep the witch inside so she couldn't harm people. Or maybe lessen the damage she could do, anyway. I'm sure things would've been way worse had that creature been free to move about. She would've hunted down whoever she wanted, which probably would've been everyone she encountered.” Christopher answered.

“So you're telling me we have a half ghost, half monster that has been contained in this house by a murdered fairy?” Sheriff Roberts asked. He needed a minute to process it. He thought he'd be able to handle whatever this guy could throw at him but wow. That was a lot, even for him.

“Yes.” Christopher answered, quite matter-of-fact.

“Okay. Can you deal with it? Better question is, do you know how to deal with it? I feel like this isn't the run of the mill haunting that you normally handle.” the sheriff said.

“You'd be correct in that assumption. This is totally new territory for me. My main concern at the moment is to crossover all the people trapped in there first. I need them gone before I can ever hope to concentrate on her.” Christopher said. This took the sheriff by surprise. It hadn't occurred to him that all those victims might still be in there. He felt a sudden surge of sorrow as he looked at the house, thinking those people he couldn't save might be looking out at him through those damned windows.

“Oh my god. I know some of those people.” was all the sheriff could think to say.

“I think I can do that from out here, so long as the sun is out. I'm not so sure about her.” Christopher said. He wasn't eager to touch this house, much less go into it. But he had to try. “I'm going to put my hands on this house and try to guide all those people to the light. If I yell or stop breathing or act strangely in any way, pull me off of the house.” Christopher said as he looked the sheriff in the eyes to convey the seriousness of the situation. Once the sheriff agreed, Christopher began taking off his shoes and socks.

“What are you doing?” Sheriff Roberts asked with surprise in his voice.

“I need a direct connection with the earth, in case there is something purely evil in there. The only way I can deal with something like that is to cast it deep into the earth. I can't do that without a direct connection.” Christopher explained.

“Have you ever done that before?” the sheriff asked with a concerned look.

“Only once.” was Christopher's simple reply as he moved his hands toward the side wall of the house. “Pull me off if the sun becomes blocked, too. Just for good measure.” Christopher said just before placing both hands on the house and lowering his head.

The amount of crying and screaming in the house was deafening. Christopher decided to speak to the souls that sounded closest to him first. They seemed to calm a little when they realized someone living could actually hear them. He started with a man that appeared to be in period clothing, farming type clothing maybe. The man seemed remorseful for something. Christopher quickly figured out that this man was one of the people responsible for the hanging witch in the back yard. That meant he was there that day. The day this creature was made. The man's thoughts were scattered and Christopher chose to cross him over quickly once he realized he couldn't gain any new information from him.

The next soul Christopher encountered was that of a teen aged girl with a modern Halloween costume on. Her thoughts weren't quite as scattered. She showed him herself and her friend entering the house, obviously on Halloween. A dare or challenge of some kind. The lady of the house followed them until the house closed up. All the other spirits gathered around them and screamed for them to leave but, of course, they could hear none of that. Their fates were sealed. She pulled her friend to him and he comforted them both. He pushed his light out to them. As they entered, he called to all the people to enter the light. He had to push the light so far into the house that he felt his knees become weak. Most of the spirits followed into the light as if they were disembarking a plain. They were so ready to leave that house that they didn't question anything.

A few women remained, scared and reliving their own deaths. He was weak but quieted them, one at a time, until they went to the light. The last woman began toward the light and then whipped around to look behind her. Her face made a horrifying grimace and she practically leapt into the light. As soon as she cleared the house, he shoved himself off of the house, landing squarely on his ass in the grass behind him. Sheriff Roberts was quickly at his side but looking back at the house for anything strange.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Sheriff Roberts quickly asked.

“I think I got them all but she was heading toward the light and I couldn't let her in. I don't know what would happen if she entered it.” Christopher said while trying to catch his breath.

“Then how are you going to get rid of her?” the sheriff asked anxiously.

“I don't know yet. I can't do anything right now, anyway. I need to rest. Can you take me back to my rental car?” Christopher was finally rising to his feet, albeit slowly.

“Of course.” the sheriff said while helping Christopher up. The two men walked beside the house, heading toward the road when they approached a window and the sheriff yelled “Look out!” but it was too late. Christopher was sucked into the window and it slammed shut as soon as he cleared it. Sheriff Roberts immediately looked up at the sky but the sun wasn't blocked. He ran around to the front door and grabbed the handle. The front door opened with ease. Completely baffled, Sheriff Roberts hesitantly entered the house. He'd seen the twisted woman in the window just before Christopher got sucked into it. He knew he had to get to him fast or Christopher would be just another pile to transfer into a body bag.

Christopher opened his eyes to a bedroom with a sitting area, closet, and washroom attached to it. The closet was covered with blood spatter and the floor was caked with the stuff. The smell was horrendous. He shuddered to think of what must've happened there. Off to the side of the mess, partially under the bed, was a kitchen knife. He tucked it into his belt loop thinking it might come in handy for something. Better to have it than not to have it.

It looked bright outside so he wondered how he'd gotten in here in the first place. Then he heard a woman's laugh. A faint giggle, really. He remembered getting up off the ground and then walking toward the police car. Then, he woke up here. Another quiet laugh. That's when Christopher realized the danger he was in. He was in the house. Alone.

Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled to the door of this room and saw that it was a second floor room. There were stairs leading up and a hall leading to the big stairway that lead down to the living room. He had to get to the front door while the house still seemed open. He got down the short hall and to the stairs when he heard another laugh, this one louder and seemingly from downstairs. Just then, the front door swung open and in walked Sheriff Roberts.

“She's here. Get out.” Christopher whispered down to the sheriff as loudly as he dared. Sheriff Roberts took a few steps back over the threshold of the front door when the door suddenly slammed shut, launching the sheriff the rest of the way out and onto the front porch. Horrified, he looked up at the sky and realized clouds were moving in. He would have to be ready by the front door to swoop in a drag Christopher out the first chance he got. That's all that he could do for him now.

The silence was deafening. Christopher couldn't even hear his own footsteps. It felt as thought the air had been sucked out of the house. There was no wind, no creaking. Only laughter, quiet at first but growing louder with each occurrence. He feared he knew what this meant and ran to a bedroom window to confirm it. Shut tight. It wouldn't slid open even a little. Christopher was on his own now.

“I know you're here. I've come to help you.” he said out loud.

What are you?

He heard the words but they felt more in his head than in his ears.

“I'm...a warlock of sorts. I think I can free you.” Christopher figured this Victorian era woman who was accused of witchcraft might understand that terminology better than him trying to explain the things he could do. He heard another laugh coming from downstairs. Christopher cautiously followed the intermittent sounds of the laughter until he was in the living room. Sheriff Roberts was on the front porch, looking into one of the windows at him. Christopher nodded to him to indicate he was okay for now. He need not try the front door. If it was open, the sheriff would likely already be dragging him outside and to safety.

I cannot be freed.

“I believe I may be able to free you of this place but I need to touch you.” Christopher said before truly coming to terms with the fact that he just asked this woman to come straight up to him. A shot of fear ran through his whole body as he saw this woman appear from the hallway by the kitchen in the back of the house. He suddenly wished the sheriff had given him at least a little bit of warning about her appearance. Her face was twisted with eyes as big as saucers and a large, toothy smile that stretched the entire width of her face. The iris of each eye was black as night and the whites of her eyes were a perfect contrast. White as the driven snow. Her hair was pulled into a bun with strands sticking out all over. The blood stains on her pink dress seemed oddly appropriate in the color scheme of it all.

Just as her feet began to lift up off the floor a bit, Christopher addressed her again. “I do think I can save you.” He held out his hand and took a step toward her. “Did you see what I did for all the other souls in the house? They are all gone. Released.”

I am not a soul.

This time, Christopher could see that her mouth did not move at all when she spoke or laughed. Her face kept the same frozen expression. Cursed to remain so for all of eternity. Then, he realized something else. She was correct. She was not a soul because she wasn't dead. She was changed. There's quite a difference. Christopher wouldn't be able to cross her over until she was dead. He was going to have to kill her first. As he was working this out in his head, she spoke to him again.

Many have tried before you.

Having read his mind, she began to rise again. This time, just the tips of her shoes still touched the floor. Christopher held up his hands and faced his palms toward her. In his mind, he spoke to her. “Stop.” She froze in place, her contorted face still staring at him, unflinching.

You have the gift. What have you truly come here to do? Answer quick before I grow bored of you.

“I have come to set you free.” he repeated in his mind. She began to inch toward him, her shoes dragging on the ground slightly. The sight of that wretched face gliding toward him was so unsettling, he fought the urge to run away. When she was directly in front of him, she eased one of her twisted hands up and touched her palm to his. As soon as they made contact, his body felt wracked with pain. He felt her sorrow. Her heartbreak. Her anguish. Then, he felt her rage. Rage against a world that wouldn't accept her. Rage against a world that took her kindness and returned it with hate and loathing. He understood that she'd been trying to fight back but did so in all the wrong ways. Dark magic had twisted and warped her. It turned her into what stood before him, a twisted shell of a witch who destroyed everything she came in contact with.

Sheriff Roberts, who'd been watching from the window this whole time, now pounded on the window in desperation to save Christopher from the witch who was now directly in front of him. He made no sound or impact on the glass until, suddenly, the sun came out and the butt of his gun went straight through the window. The sound of the glass shattering startled the creature just long enough for Christopher to pull the knife he'd found earlier. He plunged it deep into the creature's chest, puncturing her heart and causing her to fall to the floor.

Why have you done this? We are kindred spirits. Witch and Warlock.

“I can't release you from the fairy's curse until you're dead.” Christopher said while the sheriff stood in the front door in shock.

“Come on, man! We've got to go. I don't know how long the sun will be exposed.” Sheriff Roberts begged.

“You need to get out of here right now. I have to release her when she passes and I don't know what that will do to the house.” Christopher said.

“She might come back to life when the sunlight is blocked, just like the house repairs itself!” the sheriff shouted.

“Get out now!” Christopher shouted again, more insistent now. Sheriff Roberts took a few backwards steps, then turned and ran out the front door before turning to face Christopher and the dying witch in his arms. How could this be happening? Could Christopher really pull this off?

Christopher watched as the witch's twisted face began to correct itself. The blackness of her eyes faded into a crystal blue that Christopher hadn't imaged they could be. Her unwavering grin loosened and shrunk until it seemed a normal size again. Her natural beauty was returning and Christopher felt mesmerized by it, almost drawn into it. He'd all but forgotten what he was waiting to do when she exhaled her last breath and he suddenly remembered the task at hand.

Christopher put both of his hands on her midsection and closed his eyes. He pushed his light into her as far as he could. This time, the light was actually visible and the sheriff gasped when he saw it. There were also slender shadows coming out of the witch, as if the light was pushing them out and replacing them. While the light was still growing and Christopher still had his hands on the witch, a cloud floated in front of the sun and the front door slammed viciously in front of the sheriff.

“No!” he screamed as the window repaired itself and the house was, once again, sealed.

Just as the sheriff was stepping up to the window again to see what had become of Christopher, the house began to shake and groan in a way he'd never seen before. He ran off the porch as pieces of the roof of the house began to fall to the ground. Sheriff Roberts retreated further until he was by his car, on the road. The house was crumbling before his eyes. Neighbors began to emerge and shout to each other in amazement. The house completely dismantled itself, board by board, until nothing but a pile of rotting wood was left.

Once the house had settled into a heap on the ground, Sheriff Roberts called for backup and yelled to the neighbors to help him search for Christopher. None of them would go near the wreckage of the house. Even though it was in shambles, no one trusted that they, too, wouldn't be destroyed if they went near it. The sheriff ran to the pile and began to dig urgently, searching and calling for Christopher. Five minutes later, his backup arrived along with a search and rescue team. Although they slowly loaded all the debris into trucks and hauled it away to be destroyed, Christopher's body was never found.

Sheriff Roberts was grief stricken over losing one more, this time very important, person to that dreadful house. He owed everything to Christopher Lunder, though. Without his sacrifice, the lady of the house would've continued to claim any life that dared to venture into her home.