This is a story that actually is part of a CS challenge. The object was to build a story around a section of text supplied by the Challenge moderator and merge it with your own work. This is the result. The entire first section with the exception of the very first sentence, are the supplied text from the Challenge. My original stuff follows directly after and I only use a small portion again later in the story as needed. I am looking for feedback before I submit it. Any flaws or loose ends I might have missed would be appreciated. Email me at Lael_stalnaker@hotmail.com with any comments. Thanks in advance for those that do.
P.S. Oh yeah, ignore any errors in the first section between the first set of "***"'s, I am fortunately not responsible for any spelling, punctuation or grammar errors there, only for what follows!
The Memories of Hillside Mansion By Lael Stalnaker
... A sudden gust of breeze flapped the curtains, though the French doors to the balcony were intact and solidly closed. The chill suddenly reasserted itself. Jim buttoned his flannel shirt back up.
The hallway led to yet another windowless room. No telling whether they'd at least gotten back to the ground floor, but Chris doubted it. The old mansion seemed even bigger on the inside than it had looked from outside.
"Maybe we should go back the way we came in," Chris suggested nervously.
"We'll never find Terry that way," Jim said.
"By now Terry could be outside waiting for us, for all we know."
"Hey, look! This might be that door that was blocked from the other side." Jim muscled a heavy-looking dresser out of the way single-handedly and opened the door that it had stood against. Behind it was an unfamiliar dark corridor filled with cobwebs. The hall was so long that their flashlight beams were swallowed up in the inky darkness. "This looks promising," he said.
"Only if 'promising' is another word for 'creepy,'" Chris retorted.
"It's got to lead to a stairway, or at least a room where we can look out a window. The house can't go on forever."
"Come on," Chris pleaded. "Let's retrace our steps."
"No. I'm not leaving Terry in this place. You go back if you want to."
"OK, I will." Chris stalked out, heading back the way it appeared they had come in. The next room, though, had a huge portrait on the wall that they certainly hadn't passed on the way in. Puzzled, Chris returned to the room with the dresser, and called Jim's name into the long creepy corridor. No response. Chris was getting really scared now, realizing that it had been a mistake to have split up.
Reluctantly, Chris started down the cobweb-filled hallway. There were doors on either side, but the first twelve of them were locked. The thirteenth one opened. Chris shone a flashlight around the unfurnished room, and the beam swept over something red on the floor. It was Jim's shirt, lying discarded in the dust. Strange! Why would he take off his shirt in this place? It was more chilly than ever.
Again, Chris called Jim's name, and still got no response. The room had another door, and Chris went through it, wondering why Jim was closing doors behind him.
Jim's shoes had been abandoned in the next room. They were sticking out from under some sheet-draped furniture. Chris checked under the sheet, finding only yet another rocking chair.
This room's other door led out into a short hallway, in which Chris found Jim's socks. The hall led to another room, this one containing a sheet-shrouded harpsichord with Jim's pants draped over the sheet. This was getting really weird. Jim couldn't possibly want to explore a chilly old house wearing nothing but his undershorts.
Of course, that assumed that he'd taken his clothes off voluntarily.
Chris searched several more rooms, finding neither hide nor hair of Jim. Calling his name still didn't work. Nor was there any sign of a way out. One of the rooms had a stained-glass window, but it apparently looked into the next room, not outside.
Finally, in a room with a trapdoor in the floor, Chris found pair of boxer shorts hanging from a nail in the wall. Would Jim really wear bright blue boxer shorts with a pattern of little hearts? Chris couldn't imagine that -- but also couldn't imagine Jim taking off his clothes in this place.
Suddenly, there was a soft moan. It was coming from beneath the trapdoor...
Terry put down the manuscript in disbelief. It now lay open on his chest as he considered what he wanted to say. His eyes were narrowed in thought and his brow furrowed. Plainly annoyed, he finally flipped shut the pages and tossed the thick binder onto the bed next to him.
"James!" Terry yelled as he got off the bed.
"What?" Jim's muffled voice came from another room in the apartment.
"I can't believe you wrote this! Why?" growled Terry as he lumbered through to the room where Jim sat at his computer.
"What? What do you mean?" asked Jim, astonished.
"How could you write about what happened that day? Of all the things in the world to write about, you pick that? I mean it was a great prank and all, but come on!"
"Terrence, just calm down. Is it really that big a deal? It was years ago. It's not like anyone is really going to know what really happened. I'm writing fiction, remember? How much did you read anyway before you came charging in?" Jim was amused.
"James, I got to just before Chris finds us, but that is not the point..." his voice trailed off as a new suspicion dawned. "You didn't!"
"Guess you won't know until you finish reading it, will you?" Jim's voice broke up in laughter as he watched Terry race back to his bedroom. He chuckled some more as he turned back to the computer. Soon he began typing again knowing that more interruptions were to come. Best to get his thoughts down while he could or he would likely lose them.
Terry didn't know what to think at this point. He couldn't believe that Jim, Jim of all people, was writing about that mansion after all these years. The nightmares still haunted his sleep on a rare basis and they always had him waking in a sweat when they resurfaced. That damn place had done strange things to them all. Things had happened that he really wanted left in the past. But Jim was not going to let them stay comfortably put away.
He reached the bedroom and threw himself on the bed. Wrought iron squeaked as his weight was absorbed by the frame. The manuscript lay as he had left it, closed face down. It seemed to mock him as he just stared at it. Surely Jim had not just written out the events of that time and tried to pass it off as fiction. Too many people had been involved in the aftermath. They would be able to figure out what had gone on and that truly terrified him. Though certain aspects of the events at Hillside Mansion didn't bother him at all, plenty about it did. And none of it was anyone else's business.
Part of his concern was how the story so far was identical to the past. That did not bode well for the rest as far as he was concerned. Pausing in his nearly irrational brooding, Terry picked up the offending story and flipped through sections he had already read.
*** ...are you kidding me?" Chris asked incredulously.
"Nope, not at all. Let's going camping for a couple of weeks. Graduation is done and over with, summer is here and we're all going to different colleges in the fall. We may never have another chance to be together and just goof off. Camping has never bothered you before, so what's the big deal?" reasoned Jim.
The three were sitting in Jim's parent's backyard. They frequently rotated where they wound up, often during the course of a day. The deep green grass had just been freshly mowed and the guys were sitting around trying to decide what to do for the summer. The chairs were old wooden ones that hadn't seen a coat of sealant in years. They had weathered to a silvery grey now and Jim's father planned on making new ones this weekend.
"But why over by Hillside Mansion? That place gives me the creeps. I still haven't forgotten those damn stories you two always told me on Halloween when we were kids."
"Oh come on, Chris! You know that those are just stories, don't you? Yeah, we were trying to scare you, but you don't really think that it's haunted, do you?" Terry tossed in.
Chris blushed to the roots of his dark brown hair. Easy to see, since it was crew cut and spiked up to boot. His fair complexion would never make it easy to hide embarrassment. He squirmed uncomfortably on the lawn chair as he struggled to get himself under control.
"No, of course not!" he said through gritted teeth as he looked down at his sneakers. Since he was looking down, he missed the looks and grins that passed between his two best friends.
"Look, we're not gonna be at the actual mansion. The woods surround the place for miles. We picked there so that no one would be around. You know how most of the official camp grounds around here are jammed all summer. With the reputation that place has, no one will be there and we can relax, party, do whatever we want without having to worry about anyone else getting offended, or telling us to keep it down or shit," said Jim.
"Right and I got my old man to give us a couple of cases of beer too! He made me promise that we wouldn't drive under the influence though. Kinda an informal group graduation present he said. So, what do ya say? Are you in?" pressured Terry. "It wouldn't be the same without ya, dude."
Chris looked up and saw that they were sincere. They really wanted him to go and how could he say no to the two guys he had known the longest outside of his family? The guys that had always defended him from the jocks and bullies, since he was so small in comparison. This last year he had finally caught up with them size wise, but he was still cautious by nature, not fully past his need to keep out of fights or other hazardous situations instilled by his size and frame.
He smiled as he finally made up his mind and nodded yes. Jim and Terry whooped and sprang up from their seats. Like a tidal wave, they threw themselves on Chris and hugged him until he could barely breathe. The lawn chair creaked and groaned in protest before finally just giving up. The chair collapsed and the guys all tumbled to the ground laughing.
"So, when are we going?" asked Chris once he got his breath back.
"Next...
*** Terry remembered planning the trip with Jim. They liked to tease Chris about the mansion ever since they found out how afraid he was of it. Not that they were trying to be cruel or sadistic, it was just that they couldn't accept that Chris really believed the stuff even now, rather back then. It seemed like a harmless enough joke to play on him.
Not only that, but the three constantly played practical jokes on each other, singly or paired. The last major one had pitted Chris and Jim against Terry. This time the target was Chris. Mischievous by nature, the trio thrived on their nonstop pranks. Even now, so many years later, that pattern still held true.
Shaking off the memory, Terry flipped some pages. The words drew him back again. That summer once more revived itself from the printed page.
*** ...
"Was this not a totally awesome idea or what?" Terry enthused.
"Damn right!" chorused Chris and Jim, clinking their beer bottles together and then with Terry's.
They were seated in front of a good sized campfire that snapped and crackled merrily. The woods around them were some of the last old growth left in the area. Huge trunks flickered in the moving light and the sky was mostly blocked by the vast canopy above. At their backs were the car and the huge 4 man tent they had been in for a week now.
"What do ya say we go over and have a look at Hillside Mansion?" asked Terry innocently as he swigged the last of the beer from his bottle. The innocence was as false as the spontaneity of the question.
"Hey, that's a bitchin' idea!" agreed Jim. Since he was in on the plot to mess with Chris, he had just been waiting for the right time to bring it up himself if Terry didn't.
"What the fuck?" yelped Chris incredulously.
"Let's go over right now! It would be cool to see it at night," said Jim.
"No frickin' way dude. Not in the dark. We don't have enough flashlights, we don't know what condition the house is in, and how much do you..."
"Ok, ok!" interrupted Terry. "We'll wait for daylight then."
"I don't know," grumbled Chris.
"Well, let's just go look. We can decide then if we are going in."
"Yeah, Chris, come on, don't be a wuss!" added Jim.
"Fine!" Chris said unhappily.
"This'll be awesome, you'll...
*** Getting Chris to agree to go see the house had felt like such a triumph. Terry had been so proud of Chris for actually confronting his fears. He was glad they hadn't decided to go that night. Terry shuddered at the thought of what might have happened during a night prowl through those deserted corridors.
Shaking his head at their dumb luck, he flipped some more pages. Terry felt more and more uneasy as he read on. Memory and word flew hand in hand. The description of the house chilled him. He had never realized how completely Jim could describe things. What he read matched exactly what he remembered himself.
*** ...
They had no trouble getting there, the fencing being utterly trounced by time itself. Even the iron gate at the entrance to the driveway was an incomplete barrier to intruders these days. With one side off its hinges, they walked in with ease. The woods outside the fence line looked as though they were leaning away from the house. From that vantage, the house loomed up over them, brooding and dark despite the light of day illuminating its walls. Their footsteps made a grinding noise in the gravel as they warily approached.
The three stood in the shadow of Hillside Mansion dumbfounded. The building was huge, sprawling in three directions with multiple stories at different places. There was a wing off to each side of the main structure. The architecture seemed a mishmash of different styles that ended up being somehow integrated yet wildly disturbing. Huge marble columns flanked the wide oaken double doors. Five steps, an oval cascade in marble also led up to the mammoth doors. The windows all seemed to have different shapes, so that there was no continuity about the exterior. Balconies were scattered at odd intervals and from different floors.
Chimneys poked up through the roof at various random points and gabled windows threw their points out over the ledges of some of the balconies. Eerily, none of the windows were broken. The roof was slate, uncommon as that was in these parts. An honest to God tower was attached to the back of the main building. Age rolled off the mansion like the onward march of time.
The grounds immediately around the house showed signs of once being sculpted into a formal garden. Now the shrubs were nearly trees, or dead outright. The flowerbeds were a wild wilderness of weeds, grasses and the remnants of perennial flowers. The gravel of the drive was well and liberally in disrepair from plant life pushing its way through. To one side, a stable stood, though not in anywhere near as good a condition as the house. An iron hand pump stood sentinel next to a stone trough nearby.
Only after standing in awe for a few moments did they notice that it was entirely silent. The life noise of the woods was not in evidence at all here. No crickets chirped, no birds sang, no rustling of deer, rabbits or squirrels anywhere near. Not even a breeze to rustle the plants or sing through the branches of the few skeletal dead trees within the fence line.
To the best that any of them knew, no one had lived here in over seventy-four years. Rumor had it that even the family that still owned it refused to speak of it. Some scandal had brought ruin down on them here and they didn't even like to admit that the place even existed, even after so many years past. Despite the obvious neglect of the outside, the house itself appeared to be in good shape. The stone and mortar edifice was unmarred though dirty with the weather and years.
"Wha... why is it called Hillside? It's not even on a hill," asked Chris after choking his way past the lump in his throat.
"I think it was the family's name," answered Jim in a hushed tone.
"Oh."
"So are we going in or what?" asked Terry as he eyed the place. He was having second thoughts about the whole idea now that they were actually here. The sinister ambience of the place was like standing knee deep in freezing water. Chills were going up and down his back. But he didn't want to be the first to chicken out either.
"No fuckin' way!" Chris said in disbelief.
"Sure, why not?" retorted Terry with a shaky grin.
"It doesn't feel right. This place is just wrong," rebutted Chris with some heat in his voice. His eyes were wide with fear now.
"I don't know, Terry, maybe this isn't such a hot idea," offered Jim, hoping to give them all an out without drawing into question their collective courage.
"Yeah, let's just go, ok? `Sides, we don't know if the place is ready to collapse in there, ya know?" stammered Chris.
"I'm going in, with or without you two," stated Terry. He had suddenly decided that he really wanted to know what it was like on the inside.
"What?!" yelled the other two.
"Yeah, I want to see the place. We probably won't ever come back here, so it is now or never. Look, if you guys don't want to, it's ok, really. Give me an hour and then we'll go."
"Are you crazy?" demanded Jim
"What if you get lost in there, the place is humongous?" asked Chris simultaneously.
"Jesus guys! Look, I will play it safe. I just want to see what it looks like on the inside. I won't get lost, ok? I'll come back in an hour. We all have watches, so there's no reason to get all bent out of shape, ok?" reasoned Terry, his earlier misgivings fading to nothing with his excitement over exploring.
"Fine, you pig-headed turkey. Just make sure it's only an hour. I agree with Chris this time, this place is wrong," groused Jim.
They looked at their watches and agreed to start the hour. Terry walked up to the wide double doors and tried the handles. He half hoped that they would be locked and that would settle the matter right then and there. Instead, the latch clicked loudly and one door swing inward half an inch. Terry looked back, smiled bravely and pushed the door open. The shriek of the neglected hinges sounded like the wailing of a banshee right out of hell. Shivers went down the back of all three spines.
"Ok, guys, I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere!"
"Just make sure you keep it to an hour Terry," said Jim as he sat himself on the bottom step at the foot of the doors. Chris sat down next to him and leaned against Jim. He wasn't ashamed in the least to seek the comfort of another warm human body in the face of the chill surroundings.
"I will," called Terry just before he stepped inside. The gloom swallowed him and then the door slowly swung shut. They all heard the latch catch and got another chill. Jim and Chris glanced back up at the doors and then looked at each other. They could hear Terry's footsteps faintly...
Another thought struck Terry mid-sentence. He looked up and frowned. Memories of the past streamed by in his mind. Determined to find out if his latest suspicion was true, he set aside the story again, though leaving it open this time. Terry slid off the bed, whose comforter was showing signs of sliding right off if he kept it up. He trudged back to Jim's room slowly, hoping that the insanity hadn't gone far. Jim looked up as Terry came to a stop at the door.
"Did you talk to Chris about this story?" asked Terry quietly.
"Yes."
"And?" demanded Terry.
"Well, he was all for it. So much so, he gave me his perspective on all of it to make sure I got it right. He wants a copy once it's done."
"What?" yelped Terry in disbelief.
"That's right. It didn't bother him the way it does you. Me either, for that matter. We still don't know why you're all hung up on it," Jim said calmly.
Terry spluttered, his tongue tangled with all that he wanted to say at the same time. His suspicion was now confirmed. Chris and Jim both were in on this ridiculous idea. Visions of town gossips vigorously wagging their tongues over this if it was ever published ran through his head. While Chris and Jim never went back home, he did. He didn't even want to think about what the reaction would be once the details, supposedly fiction or not, got around.
Sagging into the doorjamb, Terry just stared at Jim. Seeing how confused and upset he was, Jim got up and took him in his arms. He just held Terry until he felt the tension leave the muscles within his clasp. He was startled to hear labored breathing near his ear, this from Terry who never cried. It dawned on Jim that maybe that was exactly the problem. Terry bottled things up and never really let them out.
"Look, let's sit down and talk this out, bud, ok?" Jim pulled Terry over to his bed and sat him down. Terry made no protest, just sitting there with tears streaming down his face unabashedly.
"What bothers you so much? Huh?" prodded Jim gently. Terry didn't answer for a long moment, his mind caught up in the past again.
"Ffff..." mumbled Terry.
"The fire? What about it?" asked Jim though the answer was beginning to come to him already.
"We almost died, all of us."
"But we didn't Terry, we're here now. We got out, you, me and Chris. We all made it out ok. We survived," Jim was sure now about what was wrong. Their brush with death was still living in Terry's mind, still potent and deadly after all these years since their reality.
"I know that!" protested Terry.
"So why does it still bother you then?"
"I don't know!" shouted Terry.
"Does it have anything to do with how we tricked Chris into the house?"
"I almost got us all killed. It was my idea to go into that damned place!" sobbed Terry.
"Terrence! Stop! It's not your fault. We could have said no. We chose for ourselves. Stop!" Jim was becoming alarmed now. "This is about guilt isn't it?"
"I don't... I... yeah," whispered Terry. Jim nodded to himself in understanding. The three had never fully talked about all of the aspects of what had happened. Bits and pieces, but never every single detail or in any kind of order. This story was bringing Terry face to face with guilt that none of them had known about. Chris and Jim had turned out to be more emotionally resilient then Terry. The past held no guilt for them.
"It's gone and over, Terry. Don't hang onto it any more. Haven't we always stuck by you? Has either of us ever said anything that would make you think we blame you for what happened? We don't, believe me! It was out of our control the minute we set foot in there. There was no way any of us could know what was going to happen. No way at all, got me?" reassured Jim.
"But I..."
"No! Stop that! It is not anyone's fault. Yes, things happened. But nothing so terrible that you should be tearing yourself up over it now. Or then for that matter. Just let it go," Jim said softly. He pulled Terry back into his arms and rocked him a little in his embrace. Deep dry rasping sobs were jolting Terry now. Jim hoped that maybe this cry would purge Terry and let him let go of the past. Especially since every word he was saying was the pure untainted truth.
"Terry, Terrence, Terry..." murmured Jim with a sigh after a few minutes passed. The horrible body jerking sounds had stopped and Jim could feel Terry sagging against him.
"I'm ok Jim," said Terry. His eyes were red as hell now and hurting, though they had not actually released any tears.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm ok. It has always bothered me. I couldn't bring myself to talk about it. Every time I came close, you guys always had gone onto something else. I didn't know how to explain what I felt. Still don't. It was like it was me and wasn't. Like a left over bad taste," explained Terry.
"I wish you had said something. Maybe we could have helped."
"I don't know."
"Maybe you shouldn't read any more of it. I would have liked your input and perspective, but not if it is going to tear you up all over again. It's just not that important," said Jim thoughtfully.
"No, I think I should just go ahead and read it. Maybe it will purge the ghosts still in my head."
Jim's face went ashen at those words. For the first time he began to truly understand what was possibly bothering Terry. And now he was afraid. Doubts flared and he wondered if that mansion was really done and over with after all. He was speechless as Terry got up and went back to his own room. He sat motionless for a long time after.
Terry stood in the doorway to his room and just stared at the open manuscript. It held a strong fascination and horror for him. Fear after fear trampled through his thoughts. People would think they were crazy. The thought made him cringe. He couldn't even decide which thing would be considered worst.
Sighing deeply, he forced him self into his room. Willing his fingers to unclench, he sat back on the bed. The iron poles at the four corners of the frame shuddered in time with his trembling. Finally past the point of fear having any meaning, he found himself in an emotionally neutral place. He picked up the manuscript and flipped to where he originally left off.
*** ...in a room with a trapdoor in the floor, Chris found pair of boxer shorts hanging from a nail in the wall. Would Jim really wear bright blue boxer shorts with a pattern of little hearts? Chris couldn't imagine that -- but also couldn't imagine Jim taking off his clothes in this place.
Suddenly, there was a soft moan. It was coming from beneath the trapdoor. Chris swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped nearer the opening in the floor. Setting down the clothes he had collected from the other rooms as he passed through, he took down the boxers from the nail. Without thinking he brought them to his nose and sniffed. He could smell Jim's scent, though faint, kind of a mixture of stale sweat and an odd musky odor. Chris was startled to realize he even knew what Jim smelled like. They certainly didn't belong to some previous tenant of the mansion. Any odor would have long since dissipated by the time they came along.
Placing the boxers on top of the pile, Chris approached the trapdoor, his heart pounding wildly. Another moan drifted up from the space below. He paused and then had a thought. Jim was messing with his head! That had to be it. Jim knew this place freaked him out and was trying to scare him even more. A surge of adrenaline gushed into his already taxed system.
Grimacing, Chris grabbed the ring handle of the trapdoor out of its recess in the floor. He hauled up and nearly blew all the breath out of his body at the sudden weight. It was far heavier than he had imagined. The moaning below continued though was clearer now. It was definitely male.
Chris nodded to himself and looked at what he had uncovered. A wooden runged ladder led down into the semi-darkness. With the latest rush of hormones roaring through his body, Chris found himself able to consider going down there. Besides, Jim might need his clothes. Shaking his head, Chris gathered up the pile and stuffed them into his own shirt. It bulged out, making him look like a kid playing at being pregnant, but he knew he would need both hands to get down there.
He squatted next to the edge where the ladder began and carefully started down. Another moan caused him to nearly lose his grip, what with its suddenness and intensity. Gritting his teeth and thinking of what he was going to say to Jim and Terry about this whole mess, Chris continued down the ladder. It seemed to go down further than was possible. The highest story of the house couldn't be more than fifty feet from the ground, but he was sure he had gone at least half that again before he hit bottom.
Looking around he couldn't see any difference from anywhere else in the house he had been. Well, almost. There were no windows along this hallway and the light was piss poor. That seemed to be coming from a room a hundred feet further up from the ladder. The flickering soft glow was surely from a flame. Puzzled, Chris started toward the room. He knew none of them had brought any kind of matches, lighters or any other means of starting a fire.
Yet another moan, low and deep, wafted through the close air. Chris could tell it was Jim now. But the tone and quality of it really didn't make sense at all! It sounded... well, sexual. At least it sounded kind of like one of the tapes he had snuck from his dad's porn stash a couple of years back. But that didn't make sense! Why on earth would Jim be having sex here?! And with who?
Chris hurried down the hall and entered the room at a sprint. Three hurricane lamps lit the huge area and innumerable candles gave their flickering illumination too. Swags of cloth draped from the walls and ceiling swayed in the light, though in reality didn't move. Cushions, pillows, divans and low padded pallets were scatter all around the huge room. It looked like some scene out of a Middle Eastern fantasy.
His eyes adjusted to the light difference and then what he saw caused his jaw to fall open in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. Jim was certainly here. So was Terry. Terry didn't have any clothes on either. He was also kissing Jim's body all over. Chris felt a blush flood through his face and neck.
"What on earth are you two doing??" asked Chris as he moved closer.
The door slammed shut behind him once he was fully in the room. Chris jumped and half turned back to look. A faint iridescent shimmer briefly glimmered, or so he thought. He turned back to his two friends to ask them again what the hell was going on. Jim was now licking Terry's chest while his hands were roaming, especially on Terry's groin. Chris found himself speechless with the shock.
He stiffened as a coldness pressed against his back. Spinning around, Chris found himself face to face with a shimmering outline of a person. It stepped forward again and overlapped itself with Chris. A chill spread from the points of contact and he found himself having severe vertigo. His thoughts jumbled as he cried out from fear.
His mind became detached and Chris realized he wasn't alone in his head. Someone's thoughts were right there with his. The alien presence paused a moment and then completed the joining between them. Chris blinked and then lost track of who was who.
Chris/David observed the two making love for a few seconds. Finally, he could touch and live again. He had been jealous of his lovers, Katherine and Michael that they had found bodies while he had not. Really, it was rather indecent of them to have begun without him. Chris/David moved closer and then began to undress. The clothes fell away without notice, both sets.
Jim/Katherine and Terry/Michael finally paused long enough to see that their missing lover was finally able to join them. Their spirits were firmly meshed with that of their hosts. David knew that their time was limited, so the most must be made of it. Pausing to quickly scan through the memories of this body, he was pleased to find that Chris was already aware of his own preferences and that this experience would not be against them.
Chris, now that he was mostly an observer within his own mind, found himself attracted to what he was witnessing. Because of what was happening to him, he could guess what had happened to his friends. They too were possessed by ghosts. Memories from the invading entity trickled back to him, just as his own did to it.
David, Katherine and Michael had all be lovers at the same time, a trio, one hundred and twenty years before. Their love had been equal with no party feeling that they were slighted in affections of the others despite the extra person. Unfortunately, they had been found out by David's father, who found them in the midst of the sexual tangle. In a rage, he killed the three and swore that no one would ever find out the shameful secret.
The last time they had found a way to come together once more, it resulted in quite the scandal of the day. The family recognized that spirits had caused the debacle. They abandoned the mansion, refusing to allow anyone to set foot in it again. Thus, seventy-odd more years passed without release for their desires.
One thing they had decided was a vow to never use a child or another who was unwilling to experience what they did. So, if Chris or Terry or Jim had not had leanings or real desire for sexual contact, especially with the same sex, then the occupying usurper would regretfully have vacated. Fortunately, Katherine did not mind what sex the body was.
Chris found himself sharing everything that was thought by David. Their consciousness blurred further, melding into a new being. Surprised, Chris also found himself in charge of his body. He assumed that the same would be for Terry and Jim. He walked to them and lowered himself to their level.
Terry leaned over and kissed Chris on the mouth. His tongue lightly probed until Chris opened his mouth. Jim ran his hands over Chris, savoring the feel of muscle beneath velvet skin. All three bodies were at their peak and the height of attractiveness. Jim's tanned blond was a direct contrast to the pale brown haired Chris. Terry's hair was a deeper brown than Chris had, but he was far from pale with a tan that matched Jim's. Their height was near enough the same to keep them at eye level when standing.
The only real difference was in their equipment. All three were circumcised (which the ghosts found odd) though Chris was thicker than the other two, while Terry's had a distinct upward curve to his. Jim's scrotum was hairless, unlike Terry and Chris. None of the three had anything to be ashamed of concerning their endowment. Nor with their physique in general.
Chris let him self be drawn into the erotic play that was unfolding. With the shadow of a mind subtly directing him, he let his moves be choreographed. His initial fears melted away and he became completely immersed in the moment. His deepest, most secret longings were actually taking place. Looking into first Terry's eyes and then Jim's, he knew that this was the same for them. None of them had ever had the courage to act much less voice this hidden desire they all seemed to share.
Chris flicked out his tongue and licked the salty sweat from Jim's forehead. Terry, his hands in constant motion over both his friends' bodies kissed his way down Jim's body until he reached his goal. He licked the undershaft and then slid his mouth over the scrotum. Chris meanwhile shifted his position so that he could get at Terry comfortably. The three then went with what was natural to their positioning. Warm moist mouths enfolded silken hardnesses simultaneously.
Time flickered in and out for them. Their awareness of it came in jolts and skips. Passion rose and fell and rose again. Who did what shifted from moment to moment, so that all did everything their hearts desired. The final moment of ecstasy for Chris was something that would remain with him forever.
His hips thrust forward and back at a feverish pace. Hot tightness surrounded his shaft, while his pubic hair rasped against tender skin with each impact. At the same time, his timing was determined by the rod impaling him. The slamming of his backside thrust him ever more deeply into Jim. Each explosive collision raked over his prostate and sent shockwaves of pleasure outward from the contact. His inner muscles would clench each time, heightening Terry's experience.
Jim was in bliss, with Chris stroking him in time with his rapid rhythm. He loved the hardness within him and the feeling of clashing bodies. His back arched, he let one hand drift back to explore the two behind him. The other hand braced him so that he would not be driven into the ground by the titans' energetic motion.
Terry was amazed at the feel of being gripped hard off and on by Chris's inner muscles. He focused himself on keeping a steady, swift pace. Their synchronicity was miraculous, without misstep or wasted motion. Terry knew when Chris was about to orgasm. The fierce rippling grip near the base of his shaft told him all.
Chris cried out as his orgasm detonated inside Jim. Pulse after pulse of fluid left his body and went to Jim. His inner grip on Terry clamped down viselike. That final clenching shoved Terry over the edge also. His orgasm was nearly painful with its intensity. Finally Jim had his, the cushions beneath being sprayed time after time with spurts of clear and white fluid. All three were drained of the last remaining energy with this last round.
Sated and thankful, David, Katherine and Michael reluctantly let lose their hold on the living. Their contentment would be enough to last them until another trio came. Joyously, their faint forms swirled around each other and their nearly comatose hosts, then faded from sight. Chris, Jim and Terry collapsed around and over each other. Their contentment was nearly as great as that of their departed guests. Exhausted by the marathon of passion, all three fell asleep.
Always a restless sleeper, Terry flailed in the grip of a dream. His leg kicked out and bumped a table that held one of the hurricane lamps. It teetered for a moment before falling on its side. The chimney came loose and fell away as it rolled to the wall. The flame caught the trailing edge of some of the hanging cloth. In seconds, the fire raced up the wall and into the ceiling. The old beams and wood paneling rapidly took.
The three ghosts watched in horror. They never thought that anything like this might happen. Certainly not the death of their recent benefactors. Unless something was done swiftly, three more might join their group in eternity. Desperate to save them, the re-entered the sleeping ones. Grabbing clothes in a rush, they threw open the door and raced for the ladder. Chris. Jim and Terry were barely awake, conscious that they were moving, that they needed to, but not why or how they ended up at the ladder.
A roar from the vacated room as the fire snatched more fuel shook them from their sex induced daze. Eyes wide with shock, they scrambled up the ladder. Terry threw down the trapdoor to try to cut off the airflow into the inferno. They struggled into their clothes, not caring whose was on whom, speed more important than ownership at this point. A red glow was showing around the edges of the trapdoor. The fire was now into the interior of the lower walls. The gaps of old style lathing and plaster left enough oxygen to fuel the fire still.
"Come on you two, let's get the fuck out of here!" screamed Jim.
They ran down the halls and through rooms that no longer felt strange or distorted. The guides within each knew all the tricks and turns of their once home. They refused to be the death of these wondrous men that had given them a brief taste of life and touch. No new souls would join them here this day. Within moments, they reached the front double doors which flew open just before they reached them. Scrambling to a halt, they briefly kissed each other and then plunged out into the open air. Each felt a wrenching tug, soul deep as they crossed the threshold.
Stumbling down the stairs, Jim, Terry and Chris landed in a heap at the bottom. Untangling themselves they looked up at the doors. Michael, Katherine and David shimmered into being for an instant and then faded, waving a last farewell. The trio at the foot of the steps could see flames gnawing at entire mansion now. After over two hundred years, Hillside Mansion was coming to its last breath.
Terry felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he shut the manuscript. He didn't need to read the rest. He remembered clearly the rest too. The mansion had burned swiftly and thoroughly. Even the slate roof's collapse had not put out the blazing incendiary storm. Firefighters didn't reach the site until well after it was over. Miraculously, nothing beyond the fence line caught fire. A last gift from the ethereal residents to their living benefactors.
His nightmares were always about that hellish race through the burning house. And about trapped souls that could not leave. His guilt wasn't just over nearly getting Chris and Jim killed along with himself, but that he did not know if his act had doomed the bound ghosts in some way. He wondered of some small part of Michael had not come out with him. Never completely conscious of that thought, it played out in his dreams.
Getting up, Terry carried the manuscript back to Jim's room in a daze. Nothing had been changed; this was no work of fiction. Still, most of the public would remain ignorant of the truth, simply thinking it just an odd erotic tale. Some people from the home town might speculate on its truth. That was the thought that had first made him cringe. The paranormal experience would be viewed with delighted conjecture about what might be true. Doubts of the sanity of those involved would bring in a round of back fence gossip. For it was probable that most people would read the book since it was written by one of their own. Jim never published under an assumed name. The sexuality of it didn't bother Terry in the least. Everyone there already knew about that and had had years to chew that particular bone to the marrow.
Jim looked up as Terry came in. He could see that Terry was really all right. Holding the manuscript out, Terry gently deposited it into Jim's hands. The tears had finally come to a stop. Maybe his worries about Terry were finally over.
"So...?" Jim asked.
"You put in everything."
"Yes. Does that still bother you?"
"Not really. Somehow, seeing how you and Chris saw what happened made a difference. Don't ask me how, I don't really understand yet," replied Terry thoughtfully.
"I might," Jim said quietly.
"Really?"
"Yes. You never cried about it. Chris and I did. Not long after either, but you didn't. Take a look," Jim pointed to his dresser mirror.
Terry walked over to the mirror and stopped, stunned. The tear tracks on his cheeks were ever so faintly luminous. Even as he watched, they faded and only wetness remained. He could see Jim watching him in the reflection and turned back to him.
"What was that?" asked Terry, totally bewildered.
"I think that was the last of Michael. I think a small part of him was trapped in you. The tears released him."
"But how? Why?" Terry still couldn't understand what it meant.
"When I called Chris, we got to talking about your nightmares. How they always focused on the house burning and that final moment after we got shoved out the door. He got this idea that there was a reason it kept coming back. We talked a while and tried to figure out why we didn't have any nightmares after that first night.
"It finally dawned on us that we all three had that same nightmare the first night. Nearly identical. Chris remembered waking up crying from it. I cried after I saw the smoke still rising in the distance from our campsite. Remember, we went back to avoid having to answer questions. After that, no more nightmares for me or Chris.
"We couldn't remember you ever crying, before or after that day. You just don't, you stubborn turkey! So, I think maybe your fears and the nightmares came from Michael. I don't he intended it, just maybe got stuck in your subconscious and would get expressed during your dream cycle when your internal defenses got low enough. You've always been a little different after that day. More fearful, more concerned about what other people thought. It never occurred to me that this was something from outside.
"Anyway, the tears released him. That last little bit of his being is no longer stuck in you. I have feeling your fear and the nightmares about Hillside Mansion are finished now. You're both free," finished Jim.
"Hmm, I think it might be one thing more," said Terry thoughtfully.
"What?" asked Jim curiously.
"I think they had to be mourned. Remember the bits and pieces of their memories? David's father killed them and said he would make sure no one ever found out. He forbade the family to ever talk about them and kept close watch that they didn't. Just saying the names would bring down his wrath. Do you think any of them dared to mourn or even cry for them? That trapped them as much as anything, I think," explained Terry.
"Could be. Whatever the case is, it should be over now," said Jim
"I certainly feel different."
Jim smiled and got up. He crossed the room to where Terry stood and took him in his arms. Tilting his head to the side, he kissed Terry soundly and thoroughly. The memories of Hillside Mansion could finally be put where they belonged; the past and fond remembrance.
"I will always be grateful to them. They showed me you and Chris in a new light. I can't believe none of us ever fooled around together before then!" laughed Terry.
"Chris will be back from his business trip in a couple of days. It'll be nice to have him home again. I'm grateful too. I think they showed me the two best people to spend my life with at the right time and the right way to accept it."
Terry pulled Jim toward the bed. He was feeling amorous now that a deep hidden weight was gone. Kissing Jim, he pushed the bemused man back onto the bedspread. Laughing with delight, he swiftly drew off Jim's sweat pants and t-shirt. Typically, Jim wasn't wearing underwear. Even boxers had become to confining for his spirit.
Stripping quickly him self, Terry jumped onto the bed next to Jim. He ran a hand over the trail of chest hair that narrowed and then led down to Jim's bellybutton. They were both still in good shape, though nothing like when they fresh out of high school. Slight love handles here, minor ordinary sagging there. Still, they both were extremely healthy in their middle age.
Cupping his real goal gently, he kissed Jim again. Jim returned the favor and began stroking Terry into life. Their love making had long ago settled into a leisurely, sensual affair event. There was no hurry to reach orgasm. The same with Chris when with one or the other or all three. The events at Hillside had bound them together with such strength that even the years had not parted them. No one would ever understand it, but that was not an issue. It didn't matter to them, finally, what anyone else thought about their living arrangements or their past now.
Many pleasurable minutes later, they fell asleep in each others arms. Content and happy, sleep came easily. For Terry, he was sure the nightmares about Hillside Mansion would not return. That made the roller coaster ride of a day worth it. Jim was going to take great delight in telling Chris about the whole thing.
Off at the site of the late Hillside Mansion, three very dim lights appeared over the burnt ruins. They spun and bobbed and whirled around the grounds. It, to a hypothetical onlooker, looked like the merry dance of candle flames in a breeze seen from a distance. After what appeared to be a lengthy period of tag, the lights merged together into one. It grew brighter and brighter, shining nearly as bright as Venus at dusk and then took off straight into the sky. From that time on, no one has seen anything at all that might be construed as otherworldly or haunting at remains of Hillside Mansion.