May You Never See the Light Of Day

2. Swannanoa - Background

1924

The guard tower overlooking the entirety of the 58 acres of greenery sat on top of a gently rolling hill in a cluster of trees. From the windows, all of the property was visible. The back garden was easily surveyed, and the massive main building of the expansive villa estate was in clear view. One could see straight down into the windows of the near guest house. The guard tower was the perfect vantage point to witness all the breathtaking beauties of the Swannanoa estate.

That was why the team of heavily armed mafia members had chosen it, and why they had waited eight days in it. The view was perfect. They could account for the inhabitants of the estate, track them. They could seek out every possible escape mechanism on the property and block each and every one. They could plot every facet of the revenge that they'd set out to undertake. They could set it out, and they did - down to every last miniscule detail. The rigorous planning and waiting took every valuable second of those long days, but the men knew that the time would come for their debtors to pay up.

Then, there was only time for the slaughter.

In the middle of the night, they stormed the house, all ten armed to the teeth. Doors were kicked and flung from their hinges. Glass shattered. Wood splintered. Screams of terror echoed off the nearby mountains. Each man, woman, and child on the property were wrenched from their beds. Each person begged for mercy, for their lives.

The worst part was the screams. They were those of bloody murder - the ones that echoed off of the walls of the mansion and any mountains within a ten-mile radius. They were of terror, of anguish. Those screams were those of mothers and fathers watching their small children being executed in front of them, those of wives and husbands watching their spouses being shot dead right before their eyes, those of children being dragged from their sleep and forced to watch as their parents bled out onto the carpet from gunshot wounds. The screams rose in their torrents of fear and anger and anguish. They swirled together all in one blood-curdling symphony, more beautiful and haunting then neither Beethoven nor Bach could ever fathom to compose. They rang out like the spirits leaving the bodies of the dead, winding upwards in misty, white tendrils, echoing off of marble walls and dense mountains. The cacophony of the screams grew so loud and so intense that the adversaries of the people producing them nearly clapped their hands over their ears. The sounds of the screams seemed to be so loud and raucous that they shook the mansion and the mountains themselves, like no person could come within miles of the place and not have to writhe at the pain of the assault on their eardrums.

Then, there was nothing.

****

2016

"These two sculptors lived in Italy in the early 1900s. They sold their work and were notorious conmen with their prices - especially their specific commissions. They sold to everyone in their town and across Italy. That included the Italian mafia, which soon got them in trouble. They conned multiple members; hits were out on them within days. So, they fled.

They came to Virginia and built Swannanoa on its secluded property. They found wives and had children. Their lives were good for maybe twelve years. Then, the Mafia found them.

A team of members came to their Virginia property and waited eight days in the sentry tower. In the middle of the night, they struck and slaughtered everyone on the property.

That, Ross, is why Swannanoa is haunted."

I remembered the first time my cousin Gina had told me the story of Swannanoa Palace. She'd shown it to me on the way to a concert and told me the tale of the Italian sculptors. The story, paired with the haunting beauty of the palace and land themselves, had chilled me to the bone. The side of me that was all for a thrill had loved the idea of the haunted historical landmark, while the scared girl that usually reigned supreme was quaking in her combat boots.

Swannanoa itself was the most breathtakingly beautiful and gargantuan property I'd ever seen, much less set foot on. The main building - the palace - was made of pure white marble that was so pristine it looked like it glowed, even in the middle of the day. It was three stories tall in the main section of the building, and its attached pillars were four stories. Large, arched windows made of stained glass adorned the building like the crown jewels on the one that graced Queen Elizabeth's head. Beneath those windows sat the porch and the grand entrance. The front porch that lead to the grand entrance of the place was all marble as well and was lined with a marble fence. The entrance itself had a high door, and was partially hidden by high Roman-esque arches supported by grand columns. Above the entrance was a balcony on the second floor; that too was lined with a columned, marble fence. Because of that fence, the top two floors looked pushed back and almost small in comparison to the taller, attached towers. The towers loomed over the roof of main house, as if in warning to those trying to come into the palace. Even higher, the roof of the house - and towers - was covered in starkly contrasting, vibrant red shingles, with the exception of the rounded off arch of the attic window in the center of the third floor of the main house. On the lower edges of the roof was a wearing pattern of rectangular shapes that almost mirrored Lego bricks. That wear showed the palace's real age, and so did the slight speckled quality that was coming to the pristinely white marble. This quality seemed to only be bequeathed upon the mansion, as the rest of the property didn't appear to have aged in its over one hundred years of existence.

The rest of the property was no less stunning and haunting than the mansion that looked over it. Behind the house was a fountain. It was wide, made of the same pure white marble, and had alcove-like indentations behind the fountain structure itself that were the shade of the sky on a perfect summer day. Above the fountain was a bridge, lined with marble arches, that overlooked the beginnings of the garden and began the marble fence that surrounded it.

The "garden" was 58 acres of pure greenery. The first few acres were used as a vineyard once upon a time, and the original owners would farm them and make white wine. Behind the vineyard was what was once a growing area for any type of vegetables that were needed in the mansion. Behind that was once a wildflower field, where the wives and children of the two men and their servants would plant flowers and spend their days. In the current year, most of what was had been grown over by vibrant green grass and trees.

Hidden in those trees nearer the main building was the infamous sentry tower. The style contrasted to that of the rest of the complex. It was maybe two and a half stories tall, had one window, and was made out of tan concrete rather than marble. The thing more resembled the guest home than the mansion.

The guest home was plain. It was a two story house built from wood and concrete in dark shades of brown. It had a short chimney and was easily concealed by the trees, just as the guard tower was. It wasn't meant to be the shining star of the property like the palace was. But, like the mansion, it was the site of multiple brutal murders.

After I'd been told of the murders and shown the palace, I'd become so allured to the place. The idea had haunted me for days afterward. I'd done research on Swannanoa. I'd went back there, and I'd even had Gina introduce me to the current owner. I'd become infatuated, obsessed with the idea of this house. It terrified me down to my core, but it also called my name like a sweet siren song. Soon, it was all I could talk about. So, naturally, I told my friends the story.

I'd sat at the lunch table with them. Excitedly, I told them the story that had been gnawing at my mind for days. My voice was high with anticipation, giddiness, and slight fear. As I told them, their faces held more and more intrigue. When I finished, Lydia, my best friend, said, "You're taking us there. Tonight."