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Buck and Wilma had a lot of heated discussions over the chance that some demonic force inhabited their resort. Wilma needed to tell him some of their employees were beginning to complain. His disbelief made this difficult.199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhXebPU7Y5p
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As the afternoon sun bathed the area in a dazzling light, the Cassidys' home in River Oaks, Texas stood as a beacon of elegance and opulence. The sprawling estate sat majestically amidst meticulously manicured lawns and vibrant gardens. The grand facade of the mansion boasted intricate architectural details, with towering columns framing the entrance and large windows reflecting the sunlight. Magnificent swan-like clouds glided gracefully overhead, casting ever-changing shadows across the estate. The air was filled with the tranquil sounds of nature, adding to the serene ambiance of this luxurious retreat.
It was a sprawling estate of grandeur and sophistication, boasting multiple stories adorned with intricately designed architectural elements. Inside, the mansion exuded luxury and comfort. With numerous bedrooms, including spacious suites for the Cassidy family and their two daughters, Inez and Delta, there was ample space for everyone to enjoy. The interior decor reflected a blend of timeless elegance and modern amenities, with plush furnishings, ornate chandeliers, and exquisite artwork adorning the walls.
In the heart of the mansion, Buck sat at an expensive table, dressed casually in blue jeans and a black sports shirt, sipping a diet Pepsi as he tied up loose ends before his trip north. His upcoming journey would take him to Nashville for a five-day shoot to film footage for his latest hit music video, "Southern Serenade." As he planned for the trip, Buck's mind was filled with anticipation for the creative endeavor ahead, eager to bring his vision to life amidst the bustling music scene of the ol' Music City.
Wilma walked into the kitchen, pulled up one of the wooden armchairs, and sat down across from Buck. She knew he had a lot on his mind, and he certainly wouldn't want to hear what she had to say, but she figured she might as well get it over with. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room, its walls painted a soothing shade of pale blue, trying to figure out an easy way to bring up the subject of ghosts.
She studied the cabinets, stove, and matching magnet-covered refrigerator as if they could provide her with answers. They were sleek, modern stainless steel appliances, adding a touch of elegance to the kitchen.
"Buck," Wilma said finally, hesitantly, her eyes already revealing the dread that was building up inside her.
"What, hon?" he asked as he laid the letter he was reading down on the table.
"We need to talk," she said with a sigh. "We've got a problem at the resort."
"What kind of problem?" now giving Wilma his full attention, Buck leaned forward, his expression serious and attentive.
The woman tapped her fingers on the table for a few seconds, staring silently at her husband before speaking.
"Well? What's up?"
"You're not going to like what I've got to say, Buck!" Wilma exclaimed, her voice rising with frustration. "Do you remember when I kept telling you there were ghosts at the resort and...."
"Not that again!" Buck growled as he sat erect in his chair, staring at his wife. "Don't even start that stuff. If you and Carlos want to believe that he sealed the Devil in the pit in one of those tunnels, that's fine with me, but I don't want to hear about it again!"
"Well, you're GONNA hear about it! Wilma declared, her voice rising and falling as she spoke. "That is if you want to keep any help!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's not just me and Carlos, now. The spirits are back and they bothered Texicana and Mabel last night and..."
Buck interrupted his wife with seething anger. "Oh, that's just fantastic! You and Carlos promised me you wouldn't tell anyone about your stupid ghost friends!"
"We didn't!" Wilma defended herself. "Nobody had to tell anyone anything. Whatever's in there is bothering the help now, and as much as you want to ignore it, you're going to have to get involved. There's no telling how many others the ghosts may have frightened, and we don't know about it. If you don't help me do something, we won't have any help to run the resort!"
Buck's expression darkened, his irritation palpable. "Who told you all this nonsense about ghosts bothering them?" he demanded, his voice sharp with annoyance.
"I told you---Texicana and Mable, but that's not the only problem. Carlos is acting weirder than a three-dollar bill! He's dressing like he's stuck in the '60s, and his hair is wilder than a Texas tornado. I swear, he doesn't even look like a Mex anymore. It's like he's turning into some kind of demonic spirit right before our eyes." 199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdtXNhQu8ug
"Well, now, that's Carlos's business, ain't it?" Buck argued. "If he wants to dress like a hippie and let his hair run wild, that's his choice. It's a free country after all. I don't see what the fuss is about."199Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrxu8CH8huV
"I'm telling you, Buck, he was stoned out of his mind," Wilma asserted with a furrowed brow. "When I went upstairs to talk to him, the smell hit me like a freight train. I know he smokes, but I swear, I've never smelled anything like that before. The pot fumes were so strong, that I could practically taste it from ten feet away. There's something seriously wrong with him. He's not just acting weird; he's possessed."
"Bullshit, Wilma!" Buck retorted, his artist's temperament rising. "You're seeing ghosts where there ain't none, and now you're saying Carlos is possessed? Get a grip! This is just another one of your wild theories!"
"I'm telling you, Buck, you're wrong!" Wilma insisted, her temperament rising. "I know what I'm talking about. There IS something wrong with Carlos."
"I'll tell you what," Buck said, shaking his head in disgust, "you handle it. Call a priest if you want to and have him come and do some mumbo-jumbo exorcism on Carlos and the building. Just don't get me involved in none of this. And don't be talking about this to no one else, or we won't have to worry about not having any help. We won't have any guests."
Mocking Buck, Wlma shook her head in disgust. "I wish whatever's in the resort would show itself to you. Then you'd believe me! I've got a feeling this isn't going to be like the last time the demons appeared in there. It's going to be a lot worse."
"Just handle it, Wilma," Buck scoffed. "I've got enough on my plate, so you'll have to deal with the ghosts and demons at the resort. As for Carlos, I've noticed that same pot odor on him, too. I'm going to insist that he gets some help or I'm going to have to find someone to take his place."
Before Wilma could respond, Buck stood up, shook his head and walked toward the living room to use the phone. "Ghosts!" he groaned as he left the kitchen.
Wilma found herself alone and confused. She couldn't count on Buck to help her and she felt sure she couldn't get any help from Carlos. She didn't know what to do, but she had to figure out something before things got out of hand.
She sighed deeply, then stood up and disappeared into the bedroom to take a nap. She wanted to be alone for a while to sort out her thoughts.
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