Jacob was weary from driving. He had been on the road for hours and this was the longest drive he had ever made without stopping to rest, but he was almost there. He was heading for a mansion that had been converted into an upscale bed and breakfast. As he drove he went over the information in his head about the possible haunting at the mansion.
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Over a hundred years ago a young woman by the name of Ellie Mayfield, who had been living at the mansion was thrown over a railing on the 3rd floor. The suspected murderer, a wealthy young man named Ethan Carrington had wanted to marry her. But she rejected him. Even though there was sufficient evidence to prove Carrington was the murderer he was never arrested or tried. Some claim he did indeed murder her, but got off due to his great wealth. As Jacob mulled over a likely vengeful spirit, the mansion came into view. It was grand and inviting. It's quaint structure was especially striking against a canvas of gray skies.
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Jacob stepped out of his car and into the frigid late afternoon air. He stretched his tired body. He was 52 years old but after that drive he more felt like he was 82. Jacob spotted Patrica Burroughs at the main entrance, the proprietor of the bed and breakfast. Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. A winter jacket was wrapped tightly around her thin frame. She waited for him eagerly. As Jacob approached her he noticed her face was drawn likely due to a lack of sleep and stress. A cigarette burned between her long thin fingers.
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“Mrs. Burroughs, I am Jacob Cole.” Jacob extended his hand and Patrica shook it. “I appreciate you making the long drive up here.” Said Patrica earnestly. “It is no problem, it's what I do.” Answered Jacob. “I didn't realize just how big this mansion was.” Said Jacob. “Yes, that is what most people say. Care to come inside? It is pretty cold.” Patrica asked. “Of course.” Said Jacob.
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Jacob stepped inside the expansive mansion. Impressive oil paintings featuring distinguished looking individuals and impressive landscapes lined it's halls. A grandiose chandelier hung overhead, it's countless lights seemed to twinkle. A beautiful marble floor spread out endlessly before them as they walked on an exquisite red carpet that lead to them to Patrica's office through the wide open hallways.
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Jacob stepped into Patrica's large office, it was eloquent. Expensive artwork hung from the walls. A antique Grandfather clock was tucked into the corner, it's mechanisms diligently clicking away. There was a enormous fireplace place at one end. And a large set of bay windows at the other, allowing for a breathtaking view of the estate.
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Patricia sat down behind her desk, it was neat as a pin. She looked around for an ashtray and could only produce a coffee mug as a substitute. She flicked her ashes in the mug. “Well I suppose we should get down to brass tacks.” Said Patricia. Jacob nodded “Tell me everything, from the beginning.” “Well” Said Patricia as she leaned back in her chair “This may take a while.”
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“It started after we opened the East wing on the third floor. It was the final wing we had to open.” Patricia began. “That is when the trouble started. Guests started to complain about the room, 312 being cold, doors opening on their own, hearing what sounded like a woman sobbing, And on some occasions a woman screaming. Jacob nodded.
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“But then things started to get worse.” Patricia continued. “My cleaning staff who I trust and respect very much started reporting things...incidents.” “Like what.?” Asked Jacob in a curious tone. “They told me they felt as if someone was watching them, in room 312. Mildred one of my maids, said someone knocked over her cleaning cart while it was in the hallway. She went out to investigate and pick it up. She told me she wondered who had did it, as she and Monique were the only two working the wing and Monique was at the far end of the hall. Then she told me she looked over the railing and down into the stairwell, thinking that maybe who ever did this had run down the stairs. That was when she heard this horrible scream. She ran out of there. She told me she would never work in that wing again.”
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“What about Monique?” Asked Jacob. Patricia nodded her head. “She too also had a scare. Monique is a tough old bird, she doesn't frighten easily. But when she was cleaning room 312 the lights in the room began to flicker. She turned them off, and on. The flickering stopped. But as she was about to leave the room something grabbed a hold of her. It grabbed her by the wrist and waist forcibly. It wouldn't let her go. She cried out for help. Luckily one of our bellhops ran up there. How he heard her I will never know.”
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“What happened then?” Asked Jacob. “It just let her go. As soon as the bellhop got up to the room.” Answered Patricia as she took a long drag of her cigarette. “Now no one will go up there anymore, not even me.” “Did you ever experience anything?” Inquired Jacob. Patricia nodded.
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“After all of the complaints from the guests and staff, I figured something must be going on. At first I thought it was over active imaginations, or people trying to embellish something because of what happened in that wing, that room over 100 years ago. But it was simply too much, especially with my staff being too frightened to work in that wing. So I went up to investigate.”
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“And?” Asked Jacob. Patricia sat up straight in her chair and looked directly at Jacob. “Jacob I want you to understand something. I am not the type of person to believe in the supernatural. Whether it be ghosts, spirits, or apparitions. But I will admit there will always be things that simply cannot be explained or understood. And I...I experienced that sort of thing when I entered that wing.”
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“Go on.” Said Jacob. “I entered that room and it seemed too quiet. Even way up there you could hear something, anything. But it was completely silent. Patrica took another long drag of her cigarette before she continued. “I felt a strange sense of unease while in that room. I figured it was likely due to fatigue and my poor diet.” She said while shaking her head. “Nothing seemed out of place in the room. No flickering lights, or doors opening under their own power. Satisfied I stepped out into the hallway. I couldn't help but peer over the railing, the spot in which it happened.” Jacob's expression conveyed he was listening intently.
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Patricia seemed to be staring out into space, looking out at something that only she could see. Her voice became weak and shaky, little more than a whisper. “Then something shoved me hard into the railing. I panicked and grabbed on to it. It was trying to push me over. It's grip was cold it had so much force, it was so violent. I could almost feel it's anger. I started to lose my grip, I couldn't get away. There was no one around. And then I don't remember what happened. If it stopped or whatever happened. But I was on the floor. I got up. And I ran. And as I ran I felt like something was chasing me. I...I never felt such a feeling of helplessness or dread. I thought I would never make it out of that wing. I was so scared.”
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Patricia went silent, as if the events of that night were being replayed in her mind. A lock of her hair fell over her eye, she instinctively pushed it back over her ear. The cigarette in her hand had just about burned down to the butt. Finally she snapped out of it and extinguished the cigarette into the coffee mug. A long thin trail of blueish smoke rose up from it and disappeared into the air.
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Patrica sighed. “You know I thought I quit smoking three years ago.” “Don't worry Patrica.” Jacob reassured “ I will take of this.” Patricia smiled at Jacob. “I hope so.” “Could you please show me the wing?” Asked Jacob. “Yes of course.” Answered Patricia quickly.
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The pair entered the East Wing. Like Jacob anticipated he felt an ominous presence while in the hall. The pair walked over to room 312. Patricia was practically glued to Jacob. She unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Like Patricia mentioned it was eerily quiet, as if any kind of ambient sound had been stolen away.
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Jacob indeed felt the presence of the ghost. He could feel it's anger. It's hatred of it's life so suddenly and cruelly ripped away. Jacob sat on the bed and began to unpack his personal belongings. Patricia stared at him, astounded. “Are you planning on sleeping in here? Asked Patricia. “Yes of course.” Answered Jacob nonchalantly. “But the ghost! Aren't you even the least bit afraid?” Exclaimed Patricia. “No.” Replied Jacob. Patricia nodded her head as she watched Jacob get his things in order. “Jacob?” Began Patricia. “Yes?” Answered Jacob sounding somewhat entertained. “Will you please walk me out of here?”
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Jacob returned to room 312 and threw himself down on the bed. How he longed for restful slumber. He could not recall the last time he had a full nights sleep. And tonight just like many other nights, sleep would escape him. And yet he toyed with the notion of sleep. He rested his head on the pillow and humored himself that tonight might be different.
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But Jacob did indeed drift off, but not into sleep rather a lucid dream of a reality long past. She was truly beautiful. He could see her, almost touch her. But her life was ended abruptly. He did murder her.
He was a jealous man. They argued. She tried to walk away. He grabbed her and in a barbaric fit of rage he threw her over the railing. She did not die immediately. Instead she wallowed in agony, as she laid slobbing on the cold marble floor. Her body twisted and broken.
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Jacob awoke with a sudden start. She was here. He heard sobbing that sounded like it was coming from the corner of the room. Jacob got up to investigate and turned on the light. The sobbing ceased, and no one was there. The lights flickered and went out. Jacob grabbed the flashlight he had on the night stand. He shined the light towards the corner of the room. Seeing nothing he turned to the door with the intent of walking out into the hallway. But as he placed his hand on the doorknob, she grabbed it. Jacob turned and found himself face to face with the apparition. She was a thing of beauty. But she unleashed a terrifying scream. As she did so her face rapidly decayed in a horrifying manner and she was gone.
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Unnerved Jacob stepped into the hall, he could feel her. Jacob peered over the railing. His bright flashlight cutting through the darkness as he shone the light on the ground floor. He would have to venture down there. With practically no fear in his heart Jacob methodically walked down the steps. The stories were true. Ellie Mayfield was murdered by Ethan Carrington.
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When Jacob reached the ground floor he heard a woman's laughter. First it was behind him, then in front. Then it was all around him, surrounding him in an attempt to drive him mad or scare him senseless but it did neither. Jacob's constitution was far too strong for such a futile attempt of manipulation.
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Then she appeared. She flowed towards him. Her face was marred with anger and horror, her body was broken and twisted. Jacob could feel the rage that had boiled over inside her. It had consumed her and taken control. And yet there was a great sense of despondency emanating from this unfortunate soul.
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Jacob raised his hand as she drew close and then using his innate power he clutched her. The ghost stopped, a look of confusion came over her horrid face. Jacob drew upon his strength as he began to banish her. The spirit struggled to break free from Jacob's hold, but his power was far too great. As she left this plane of existence she parted with an agonizing scream and the ghost of Ellie Mayfield was no more.
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The next morning after a hearty breakfast and a long conversation with Patricia, she walked Jacob out to his car. “I wish to thank you very much for your help.” Said Patricia graciously. “You are more than welcome. Like I said it is what I do.” Answered Jacob. “You are sure she is gone, like completely gone? And never coming back?” “Absolutely.” Said Jacob with confidence.
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Patricia stood smiling at Jacob as he loaded up his car. “You are a very brave and unique man.” Said Patricia. Jacob chuckled as he answered. “Unique yes, I don't about the brave part. I don't like heights.” A look of concern suddenly crossed Patricia's face. “Where do you suppose they go?” Patricia asked suddenly. “Where who goes?” Answered Jacob. “The ghosts. Where do ghosts go when they die?” Jacob was stunned. In all his years of doing this not once had he ever been asked such a question. Jacob faced Patricia with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I really have no idea, I have never even thought about that myself.” Said Jacob.
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The two stood in a awkward silence before a chilly breeze cut through them, snapping them out of it. “Anyway, I suppose I best be on my way. Thank you for the hospitality.” Said Jacob. “Again, I am eternally grateful.” Patricia extended her hand and Jacob shook it warmly.
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As Jacob settled into his car he began the drive to his next appointment. It concerned a young widow, Meredith. After the recent death of her husband she was experiencing what she believed to be some kind of evil spirit tormenting her. Jacob noticed she had left him another message, this one detailing that she forgot to mention that she had previously gone to a psychic for help.
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A wave of anger coursed through Jacob. A psychic? Jacob suddenly began driving much faster. There was no time to waste.
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