Haunted House Flipper

Chapter 1

Haunted House Flipper | Copyright © 2017 Dan Absalonson 

The day I learned ghosts were real, and could make me a lot of money, was one of the best and worst days of my life. Also, it turns out they're not really ghosts, they're demons. Yay! That was just a little cherry on top. That's not way creepier, is it? When people see poltergeist or paranormal activity, they've actually come in contact with a demon. I had no idea my crappy day would end with me running from one of those glowing sword wielding hellspawn, but it did.

It was a cloudy morning. I was already running late for my first showing and then my car wouldn't start. Ray Cincinnati, the fastest talking smoothest realtor in town, but I couldn't talk my car into starting that morning. I had good intentions of getting it checked out, but it always started after a few tries so I just kept putting it off. That morning though, no luck.

I didn't exactly have what you would call friends back then. I thought they just got in the way of my work. I was nice to people if they could help me out in some way, but I wasn't close with anyone back then. Not like I am now with my buddy Claire.

If only I would have stopped working for an afternoon to give my car some attention. I might have avoided this whole mess, but realtors aren't able to keep normal office hours. It's kind of like you're on call all the time. It was also like dealing with ghosts. People come to you for help and then disappear. Half the day you're trying to follow up with someone who came to you, just to have them completely ignore every call or text back from that moment on. Not even a quick no thanks text or anything. Like two out of fifteen people get back to me. It's pretty amazing how people ignore realtors.

So with no friends, the only option left to me was taking the bus. There aren't really any cabs around the town I live in. It's small but growing, which is good for me as a realtor. I was waiting for the bus, writing some business ideas in my notebook, when I dropped my pen. It hit the ground and rolled under the bench I was sitting on.

"Great," I said to no one. I bent down and tried to reach my pen but I couldn't find it. So I bent down further and looked under the bench. It was kind of a strange bus stop because it sat against a huge old church. My pen was nowhere in sight.

"What?" I said.

I looked around but I was the only one on the street that morning.

I stood and turned around, crouching down to get a better look under the bus stop bench. I still could not see my pen. This wasn't any old pen, it's my really nice black fountain pen that writes as smooth as silk. I use it to sign all of my documents. I couldn't just leave it under there. It's worth like a hundred bucks. I got out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Pointing it under the bench, I discovered something really surprising.

There was a long tunnel that ran underneath the church. It was already kind of a dark morning with the cloud filled sky, but it was like midnight inside the tunnel. I could only see into it a few feet. The dark path descended into inky black nothingness. Staring down it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I shined the light around some more and saw my pen a few feet away.

If I climbed down the tunnel I knew I would get dirt on my pants. My mind raced for an excuse to tell my clients when I got to the showing. I landed on the lie that I was doing a last-minute landscaping project on a property I was trying to sell. That would work.

I took one last look around and saw that I was still the only one on the block. I stuffed my fear down and began to crawl into the tunnel. Every inch stole more light from my view. The dirt walls all around me seemed to have moved in closer. The air was thick with a damp heavy smell. It felt like I was working harder to breathe, but I'm sure it was just my nerves getting the best of me.

I stopped and tried to calm myself. I closed my eyes. I could feel my quick heartbeat pulsing in my temples. My throat felt constricted. I really thought about just backing out of there and leaving my pen right where it lay in that damp dirt. Looking back on that moment I realize how much braver I have become. The things I've seen since would make the person I was back then faint in fright.

I opened my eyes and looked down. I found my pen. I crawled up to it and was about to pick it up when I felt a draft coming from further down the tunnel. I shined the light forward farther down my cramped passage and I saw a small wooden door. That creeped me out even more, but I couldn't leave without seeing what was behind it. I pocketed my fountain pen and continued crawling down the tunnel.

When I got to the door it was black as night and the faint breeze I had felt before was now a strong draft.

I swiveled and used the light on my phone to look behind me. Any daylight that spilled in from above was gone now. I turned back to the door and looked for a way to open it. Where I was expecting to see a door knob there was nothing. No handle, no knob, no hardware of any kind. I reached up and gave it a push. The door budged a tiny bit. It seemed like it hadn't been opened in a very long time. I pushed on it again and it move some more, but still didn't open. I gave it another shove and was able to get it halfway open. I stopped and shoved my phone in my pocket to kill its light. I doubted anyone, or anything, was beyond the door but my mind was freaking out. I looked through the gap and saw what looked like a crawl space. A really small amount of light crept down through the ceiling from the church above, but I couldn't see anything inside.

I pulled out my phone again and shined the light through the opening. A sunken room came to life. It was really creepy but really cool too. I pushed the door the rest of the way open. The hinges ground with a terrible squeak. A dank smell slowly curled out of the doorway. I coughed and shined my light again. Beyond the door was the top of an ancient looking wooden ladder that led down into the room. I crawled forward until I was passed the little doorway and came onto a small ledge.

Shining the light below I saw a podium with what looked like a jewelry box on it. Behind it stood a wide rectangular table. I moved my beam of light around the room. The rest of it was empty.

The breeze I felt was coming through the ceiling from the church above. It's smelled even worse in that room. The floor of the sunken room looked about eight feet down and the ladder didn't seem all that trustworthy. I grabbed the top of the ladder and swung around putting one of my feet on a rung below. It creaked when I put my weight on it, but it held. I worked my way down the ladder with care, expecting each rung to break every time I put my weight on it. I gripped the sides of the ladder, preparing to hold my weight when it happened, but I made it to the floor without incident. It was time to find out what was in that little box.