The Harold House Mysteries: Prologue

A man inherits a cursed house. WC: 2918 words

The Harold House Mystery

Prologue: Lifting the Curse

E

ven though the light in this room isn’t that good, it is easy to see that the fireplace is the most impressive thing in the room. It is a massive marble edifice that dominates the wall. The marble is white with veins of pink and gray running through it.

To be fair, it is the only thing in the room now. I imagine that, in the past, there were rugs, statues, chairs, and tables scattered about the room. Now, it is completely bare, much like the rest of the house.

I am the last in a long line of owners of the Harold House.

The house sits on three acres of lightly forested land with a passable road in front. The last owner was my aunt. She died three months ago when a power line broke loose and fell on her car while driving to the cemetery to visit her husband's grave.

The year before, her husband had been killed while falling into an open sewer hole in town. The reason he’d fallen was that he’d been hit by a passing ice cream truck. They passed it to me, complete with a past due property tax of $3,000.

I checked into it, and the property tax hadn't been paid for three years. My aunt and uncle were not rich people; they did what they could. I expect that is why the house is empty; they sold everything just to make ends meet, and that had not been enough to keep up with the taxes.

I, of course, am not rich either. My jobs are seasonal, and right now I am in between seasons. I have enough to keep me indoors and fed, but not enough to cover the taxes on this place. It's sort of depressing. I figured by twenty-seven, I'd have something going on.

The executor of their will had come by my apartment. He was tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, but wearing bright colors. He wore a light blue tophat, a white coat with tails, a pink blouse, red trousers, and green boots. Like a puppet show escapee, come to life.


I answered his knock.

“Jason Harold?”

I nodded.

"You are aware of the passing of one, Elisabeth Patricia Harold, on March 3rd?"

"Aunty Lisa is dead?”

“Most assuredly. The will was read last night. Mrs. Harold left you this,” he said, then handed me a package.

"How did she die?"

“A twelve-kilovolt line dropped onto her car as she was driving to the cemetery to, presumably, visit her deceased husband's grave. There is a write-up inside the package.”

“Ah. OK. Uh, thanks.”

“You are most welcome. Have a pleasant day.”


“Who was that?” my roommate asked.

“Some lawyer. My aunt died.”

“Oh. Crap. Man, I am sorry. Look, I gotta go to work. We can talk later, if you want.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. We weren’t close. I’ve barely seen her since I was a kid.”

My roommate returned to his room.


I opened the package. In it was a box with a deed, a handwritten description of my aunt's death, her death certificate, a short note, an envelope, a set of keys, a bill for $350 from a car storage yard, and a magician's wand.

I picked up the wand, it tingled my hand, pointed it at the far corner of the kitchen, and said, “Sparkle warkle”. I had never done anything even remotely magical up to that point in my life, yet a colorful spray of sparks shot out of the end of the wand.


A few moments later, my roommate comes back to the kitchen.

“You OK? Say, is that a wand?”

“Uh, yeah. It was in the box.”

“Weird. Was your aunt or uncle a magician?”

“Not that I know of,” I said as I carefully put the wand back in the box.

My roommate left, and I returned to the contents of the box

A normal-looking deed.

The note was a pretty gruesome description of my aunt’s death.

The envelope contained a handwritten letter from my aunt. It rambled on about activities that happened a long time ago.

I was just about to toss it back in the box when I got to the last paragraph:

If you are reading this, then we have been taken by the curse. Jason, as much as we love you, we love our children and grandchildren more; this is why we left you the cursed house. All I can tell you is that the owners of the Harold House eventually meet their demise in a gruesome manner. We have heard there is a way to lift the curse, and that it involves a fish, a knife, and fire.
Good luck.
PS. Please don’t leave it to our children.

I picked up the key ring. There were four keys on it. One looked like a car key, one looked like a key to a lock, another was a mail box key, and the last was a large, ornate key. I touched it, and it tingled. The end had a large circle with a carved vine circling it, and a shield in the center with the letters ‘HH’ on one side, and the words ‘Harold House’ on the other.


I don’t own a car, so I called a taxi to take me to the storage yard where her car was.

“Oh, yeah, that one,” the guy at the counter said. He stared at me for a full minute before he said, “It’s a little weird. The report said it got a power line dropped on it, but there really wasn’t much damage. The car works fine. I’ll have it brought around.”

I just nodded. The actual fee was only $150, which was a huge relief. I was going to ask about the difference, but my good sense kicked in, so I just nodded and paid the man. I stepped outside to wait.

It was going to be a nice day, weather-wise.

The young man dropped off the car in front of me, handed me the key, then ran back around the building. It was an older sedan and looked like it was in very good condition. The only mark I could see was a black scorch mark on the roof. I got in, then set the seat and mirrors. It had a mostly full tank, and the starter crystal was fully charged.


I know very little about magic curses or magic in general, so I drove to a witch emporium on the edge of town. It's a long, wide hall with booths set up in rows and columns. I had no idea how to pick a witch, so I just wandered around until I found an open one.

“Hello, I'm Estrella. How can I make your day more magical?” a slim, heavily made-up girl asked when I stepped into her booth. She wore a knee-length multicolored gown that was gathered at the waist by a wide, dark brown, beaded belt. She also had a leather headband on with a silver star in the center.

I held out the key and asked, "What can you tell me about this key?"

She reached for the key, paused, then said, "That feels like it's cursed."

She pointed to a table. I put the key on it, then pulled out the letter and said, “Read the last paragraph, if you would.”

She studied the letter for a few moments, then said, “Wow. They just dumped it on you. Nice. I don't know if I can lift a curse.”

“Anyone else here that could help?”

“Madam Firin could, but she is out until next week,” she said, sighed, then added. “Lemmee try something.”

She turned to the back of her booth and picked up a natural wood wand that was about a foot and a half long. She used that to pick the key up and place it on a small circular felt-covered table. She then waved the wand in circles over the key, muttering something too low for me to hear.

A sickly green nimbus flared up and formed a blobby-looking creature that made an obscene gesture and hissed at her.

“Yeah, well, up yours too,” she said to it, then asked as she gestured to the key, “What is the source of this curse?”

The creature made another obscene gesture at her, blew a raspberry, then turned around and wiggled its behind at her.

She frowned and muttered a few words, and a spark shot from the stick to the creature. It yowled and started rubbing where the spark hit it.

“Answer!”

It glared at her for a second, then looked at the key. It then made a long sequence of squeaks. She nodded, picked up a grape from a bunch on a side table, and tossed it to the creature.

The creature caught the grape in one hand, made an obscene gesture with the other, and disappeared.

She put the stick down, then picked up the key with a handkerchief, brought it to me, and said, “OK. That told me that this key is not cursed, but is part of a curse. That to lift it involves a fish, a knife, and fire. I know that’s what the letter said. It also said something about being underground. I can’t help you any more than that, I am sorry.”

“What was that creature?"

"Oh, that was a minor elemental. Fart, I think. Though it might have been Bad Breath. It can be hard to tell the really minor ones apart."

"Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. To tell you the truth, that was fun. I haven’t had to deal with a curse manifestation since school. Usually, it is all love potions and glamour spells. Once in a while, a divination. This was a nice break from that.”

“OK. Well, thank you,” I said as I turned to leave.

"Come back and tell me what happens."


I could sell the house as is, but they’d passed a law that you can’t sell anything that has a known curse on it without disclosing it. There were exceptions for museum stuff, but not houses. I decided to head out to the property and see what I could find out.

The ornate key unlocked the front door. I'd spent some time exploring the outside of the house and the ground floor for some kind of entrance to a basement, but I didn't find anything. The place is very quiet and very empty. I wander the first floor and find absolutely no furniture. I end up in the living room.

I am drawn to the immense fireplace. It starts with a massive eight-foot hearth that is two feet deep, and rises six inches above the floor. The fireplace opening is four feet wide and five feet tall. On either side of the opening are carved columns that hold up a massive mantel. There is a large andiron in it.

Everything is spotlessly clean; there hasn't been a fire in there in ages.

I remember a movie where there was a secret door hidden inside the fireplace. In the movie, they turned a sconce to open the secret door. Unfortunately, there aren’t any sconces on the walls. I pull out my flashlight and shine the light over the front of the mantle. There are stylized flames in relief along the front edge. There are seven of them. Looking closer, I see that three are larger than the others.
I touch the center one, as it is larger than the rest.

Nothing happens, but I feel a slight, almost electric buzz. I touch all the symbols, but only the three larger ones give out that feeling. That's a clue, I think. If it's binary, that's seven possible codes. If not, then I am going to have to look for a clue somewhere else.

I start touching the symbols in binary order. It is a real stretch to touch the two that are farthest apart. Nothing happens until I get to 7. That means I have to touch three at the same time. I am glad no one is here to see this. I use my hands and my nose to get all three.

I came-to a few minutes later, lying at the foot of the fireplace. I feel a tingling all over my body. It’s like the first time I held a power crystal and grounded my foot. I get up and look around; nothing has changed outside the fireplace, unless it’s in another room.

I pick up my flashlight and play the light around inside the fireplace, and immediately notice that the right side looks different. I climb into the fireplace; this requires ducking and twisting my feet around the andiron. There is a place to stand inside. The flashlight shows a slightly open, five-foot-tall doorway in the wall. I push it open and see there are stairs leading down.

What kind of nut puts stairs to a basement inside the fireplace? What if it’s winter, and you need a fire, and you need to go down to the basement?

I am starting to think great-granddad was crazy as a loon. I squeeze into the opening and head down the stairs. The walls are rough stone blocks for about twenty feet, then the stairs bend to the right as the walls change to rough-hewn rock. The stairs end on a small landing. At the other end of the landing is a door with a fish symbol on it.

Well, that is two of the three things in the curse. Fire is the fireplace, fish is this door. I hope the knife reference is not to a knife that comes shooting out and eviscerates me when I open the door.

I wish my ex-girlfriend were here; I’d let her open it while I held the flashlight. I flatten myself against the wall and use the front door key on the lock in the door. I hear it click, and the door pops open slightly. I sidle up closer to push the door open with my toe.

I wait for a few moments, then toe the door open farther, then quickly look into the next room with the flashlight. All I see is part of a large room with a dirt floor. Nothing came out except the scent of musty air, and the sea? Gathering my courage, I step into the room.

I see that it’s more like a hallway than a room. I walk down, shining the flashlight on the walls. They are covered in primitive drawings, runes, hieroglyphs, words, and other symbols. Some I have seen before, but none of it is the least bit coherent to me.

Should have paid the witch to come with me. Ha, like I could have afforded that.

I walk along until it seems to dead-end, but it actually has a sharp right turn that goes into a very narrow, maybe two-foot-wide, hallway. There is a brightly lit room at the other end. I sidle along and enter the room. It is large, roughly rectangular, and the left-hand wall is taken up by a huge fish tank. It’s at least ten feet high and twenty feet long. The water is murky, but I can see a huge fish swimming in it. It’s white with orange stripes.

Further on in the room is a cot with something on it. The walls are covered with murals that are really hard to look at. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but they are disturbing. There is an old writing desk with a chair in the corner, beyond the cot.

I approach the cot. The fish is pacing me, and seems to be getting more agitated the closer I get to the cot. There is a human body on the cot with something stuck in its chest. It’s a bone-handled knife that is buried to the hilt in it. The corpse's eyes are wide open.

I lean over and study the face; it looks familiar. The eyes rotate toward me, and the body sits up; I back up quickly.

“Dude!”

I try to work up a plan to deal with a zombie, but my mind is failing me; I can only stare at it.

The corpse-man looks at my face, then takes a wracking breath, exhales. It repeats this a half a dozen times.

I can hardly take my eyes off the knife in his chest as he attempts to get his breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that the fish is now hovering near us, watching.

“What are you doing here?” the corpse asks.

“Who are you?” I counter.

The corpse glares at me, then says, “I am Jacob M. Harold, the owner of this place!”

“I am Jason Harold, your grandson,” I say, glaring back.

“Grandson, you say?”

“Yes.”

“How long have I been down here?”

“My mother said that you disappeared when her father was 10 years old; that’s about 50 or so years.”

“50 years? What the hell?” he says, looking at the fish, then asks. “Why did you come down here?”

“Uhm. Trying to lift the curse?”

“What curse?”

“The one that keeps killing the owners of your house?”

“Killing? That ain’t right.”

“A lot of things ain’t right; like you talking to me, and you’re dead.”

“I ain’t dead, stupid kid.”

“Then explain the knife in your chest.”

Grandpa looks down and reaches a hand to tug at the knife. It doesn’t budge. He says, “Well, son of a … you damn liar!”

He turns to the fish and glares at it. The fish retreats to the farthest corner of the aquarium.

“Help me get this gods damn knife out, boy!”

I step closer, reach out, and grab the hilt. It tingles. I pull hard; it gives slowly at first, then slides out easily. There is no blood, and Grandpa falls back on the cot. Suddenly, the knife pulls me back to the corpse of Grandpa. I can hardly hold the knife back. It’s like it’s being held by someone else, and they want to put it back in Grandpa. I hold it with both hands to keep it away from Grandpa.

I look at the fish, and it’s focusing on the knife. I drag the knife toward the tank, and I bring it over my head.

Standing only a couple of feet away, I plunge the knife into the glass of the aquarium. It penetrates the glass easily. The fish retreats to the point of being almost out of sight in the murky water. I stand panting like I'd run a marathon. I turn back towards the cot.

Floating over the corpse is a ghost that looks roughly like Grandpa. Part of the ghost is still in the corpse.

“Good instincts, boy. His hold over me is gone. I can finally rest,” Grandpa-ghost says, colorfully curses for a couple of minutes, then asks, “How is the family?”

I run down all I know about the family.

The grandpa-ghost’s face shows pride, then sadness, then it says, “It was supposed to be different. It seems ole G’thum there was using my kids’ lives to keep me from moving on to the afterlife so he wouldn’t be lonely."

"My sacrifice was supposed to guarantee prosperity to all my children! Gods damn liar. There's the lesson, boy. Don't trust the old ones. Anyway, this ain’t part of the regular world. You head on back, make sure to lock it by turning it to the left three full revolutions. That'll start the process of severing this place from the real world. The regular basement should appear in its place. Might take a few days, hard to tell, 56 years is a long time.”

"What happens to you?"

"Heh. I finally move on. Ole fish-face can go back to wherever."

“I hate to ask, but any money around here? There are some back taxes due."

"Taxes? G’thun, lying sack of ...” Grandpa-ghost yells at the fish, then turns to me, and says. “When the regular basement returns, you should find some money and treasure there from my travels. I don’t remember how much. I hope it’s enough. I don't know what state it's going to be in, being severed from the real world for so long. You'll find out. Thanks for freeing me, Jason. You take care, now,” Grandpa-ghost says as it slips out of the corpse, drifts to the back wall, then fades into nothing. I feel a long sigh escape me that I didn’t know I was holding.


As I turn to leave, I hear/feel a voice say, “I can give you your heart’s desire! For a small sacrifice on your part, all your children will have all they need for their entire lives. Just pull the Kafa Blade from the glass. You will have all you desire.”

The pressure on my mind was almost overwhelming, but I steel myself against it and walk towards the entrance to the narrow hallway. It seems so far away now. I force myself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Anything you want! I can give you anything!”

The urge to stop and listen to it is strong, but I remember where the knife started. I focused on not making that mistake. I reach the hallway, force myself in, and sidle along. With each step, the pressure on my mind lessens. I can’t hear it, but I still feel it.

Each step down the hallway to the door feels like pushing against a tide. After what feels like a century, I reach the door. I push through, slam it closed, and lock it as the ghost said. Suddenly, the pressure is gone. I lean my forehead against the door and let out a sigh.

I don't know how long I stand like that, but eventually I get my breath back, and I climb the stairs to the fireplace. I get out of the fireplace and stand looking at it.

So it seems that Granddad made a deal with that fish-god to provide for his kids, then it cheated.

I touch the center flame symbol on the mantel. I hear the door inside the fireplace click shut. I look around and see that the house hasn’t magically become full of nice furniture again, but it does seem a little brighter. I go to the hallway to look at the stairs.

I see the faint outline of a new door forming under the stairs. I’ll give it a few days, then go down there. Maybe I can convince my roommate to come with me, and maybe Estrella. A witch might be handy to have along.

There is no telling what is in there after 50 years.