Alderton Estate

The quiet lapping of storm-tinged waves brush against the rocky edge. Burning through the heavy fog, amber fingers of sunrise force its retreat from shore. Mist hangs between the trees, casting an eerie glow across the grounds leading to the house. Sinewy strands of shadow claw at the gravel driveway, flanked by overgrown trees.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires echo in the weighted silence. Carolanne’s heartbeat hums in her ears as the thick trees lining the drive loom overhead, their branches burdened with decades of neglect. She watched as the giants passed by her window, straining to see between the overgrown brush, out into the expanse of the estate, to no avail.

“It will be fine, Annie. I promise, okay?” Bennet placed his hand gently on her thigh, pulling her from her thoughts. “I know it seems daunting, but the house really isn’t that bad. It just needs a little TLC. I swear.”

Carolanne attempted a small smile to put him at ease, patting his hand before returning her gaze out the window. The overwhelming sense of dread suffocating and silencing her.

At long last the car breaks through the darkness of the trees and rounds the loop of the driveway. Bennet climbs out of the car and stretches, a small smile and a sigh escapes. On shaky legs, Carolanne carefully emerges from the car. Her eyes sweeping up the cold, commanding steps, the vine laden pillars and up the expanse of brick façade.

Alderton Estate.

Her throat goes tight, hands clammy and she sways a bit, the world flashing gray within her vision. Bracing herself on the doorframe, she takes a breath and firmly closes it with a loud thud as Bennet makes his way to her side.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” The excitement flows off him in waves, his usually calm and cool demeanor beginning to wane.

“It certainly is...big.” Carolanne’s eyes rest on an upper floor window, just as the curtain pulls back at the lower corner.

“I can’t believe no one else in the family wanted it.” Bennet begins up the steps, motioning her to follow. “Come on, let's get in and open up the windows. I want to let it air out before it gets dark.”

As Bennet places the key into the lock, the wind carries a faint whisper across Carolanne’s shoulder. Go. Refusing to acknowledge the disembodied voice, Carolanne focuses on Bennet as he turns the key with a loud click and the heavy door pops open with a groan. Pushing it inward, he steps through the doorway and into the dark foyer, laden with dust.

It breathes.

Acutely aware of her surroundings, Carolanne begins to take notice of each echo in the hollow hallways extending from the foyer. Movement catches her eye and without thinking, her eyes dart to follow the faint figure of a small child poking her head around the doorway.

“Annie?”

“Huh?” Breaking eye contact with the apparition, she turns to meet Bennet’s bewildered expression. “Sorry, I was just --”

“Completely taken in by the incredible potential, I know! I already have so many ideas. Now, to get these lights turned on.”

Bennet’s footsteps faintly echo as Carolanne looks back to the doorway, to find it empty. Staring into the darkness which lies beyond the frame, like a portal into another world, her heartbeat resounds in her ears and cripples her throat. Unable to tear her eyes away, she tries to blink to break the hold of the sinister and hollow eyes staring back at her.

With a pop and a hum, lights begin to flicker on and fill the foreboding corridors with warm, happy light.

With cautious steps, Carolanne paces the foyer. Running her hands along the banister and the side table near the door while her eyes close. The world begins to fade away around her, the quiet reverberation of children playing and running around the halls swallowing her senses.

A truck horn blares and the sounds skitter away as the foyer is filled with the moving crew dragging in boxes and Bennet directing them throughout the halls.

As afternoon approaches, the moving crew packs up, and Bennet busies himself, unpacking their parlor office. Overcome by nausea, and a mild headache, Carolanne situates herself in the chaise near the window, opening it to allow the fresh air to wash over her.

“Why don’t you go for a walk? There’s a great view of the ocean from the other side of the orchard. You might get some ideas for your next piece. I’ll finish here and you can work later.”

Agreeing, Carolanne follows the path from the driveway, through the neglected gardens and into the overgrown orchard. When she comes to a fork in the path, she considers which way to go, gazing in each direction. To the left, more gardens and a glass greenhouse. A large tree with an old swing at the end of the path on the right. But it is what lies forward that draws her. The cool misty air hanging low along the rough pebble trail, the stillness deafening. Soon the sound of her footsteps echo so loudly in her ears that she swears she hears another’s footfall. She turns, expecting to find Bennet, only to be met with the imposing thickness of air, swallowing the path she has walked and the unshakeable feeling that she is not alone. The sound of lapping water beckons her near as she comes to the edge of the property, opening up to a small private beach.

A sudden wave of incredible sadness washes over her. Her whole body trembles and heaves as she sobs. A darkness looms over the water, those same hollow eyes staring back. Backing away from the water, she blindly searches for the path back to the house. The sound of a woman wailing grows louder, a heavy hand claws at her wrist. Carolanne begins to run back to the house. Gasping for air, she breaks through the darkness engulfing her and just before her feet touch the sunlight on the driveway, they are bound in place. The encompassing presence imprisons her limbs as the cold, rancid breath whispers in her ear.

She is awake.

Running up the steps and throwing open the door, she collapses on the chair by the fireplace. Trying to catch her breath and shake off the tingling in her limbs, she hears the faint whisper of a child beside her.

She is here.

“I’m running to town, Annie. Did you want to come with me?” Bennet’s voice carries through the empty foyer, warm sunlight pouring in through the open door..

Ignoring the apparition beside her, Carolanne turns and calmly walks out. Grabbing her sweater off the hook in the open closet and pulling it over her shoulders in one swift motion, she passes through the open front door, the pressure closing in behind her.

“I’d like to swing by the library, if that’s okay with you. I thought I’d do some research on the house. See if we can find out a little bit more about the families who lived here.” She tries to keep her voice light and her face slightly cheerful.

“Sure. I’ll drop you there while I run some errands.”

Bennet chats the whole way to the Library. Carolanne tries to seem like she is paying attention but her mind is plagued with so many questions. Who is the little girl she saw? Why did she hear the woman wailing and feel so much sadness at the beach? And what exactly is causing the overwhelming terror she feels at times?

“I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay, Annie?”

Kissing Bennet on the cheek, she steps out and closes the car door, turning to walk up the steps and into the comforting scent of old books. An older woman stands at the desk and meets her with a smile.

“Hi there,” she says to her softly as she searches her face. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“I just moved here actually.” Carolanne took a cleansing breath before continuing. “My husband inherited a family estate. I was hoping to do some research on it.”

A shadow passes over the woman’s face, her voice falling even softer. “Alderton Estate.”

“You know it?”

“Oh yes. It is very well known around here.”

“Really? Well, this might be easier then. Do you have any local records about the families who lived there?”

“Of course, follow me.” Carolanne falls in behind the small woman as she quickly makes her way through rows of modern reads, back into the farthest corner of the dim reading nook at the rear of the small library. “You can sit here.” She waves to a small desk with her frail finger, turning towards a bookshelf and scanning the dusty leather bound manuscripts as she whispers to herself, “Ah, yes. Here it is.”

As Carolanne sits down at the small desk, flipping on the soft warm glow of the reading lamp, the librarian sets three books before her.

“Alderton Estate was built in 1813 by John Hayleigh for his wife, Emma.” The librarian explains, taking a breath before placing a hand on the books. “This house has a past. A very sad one.”

Carolanne nods, offering a small smile to the woman. “I understand.”

As the librarian leaves, Carolanne fishes out a notebook and pen. After a few pages, and a couple scribbled notes, she sees a photo in the archive of the town square, with townsfolk standing in small groups, sitting on blankets with children playing nearby.

Spring Festival, 1816.

The face of a small child strikes her as familiar. Perhaps this is the child she saw in the foyer, but she looks younger in the photo.

Carolanne continues leafing through the scrapbooks of photos, birth and death records, and town scrapbooks. All the while, she jots down dates and names here and there, until at last she comes across a newspaper article dated 1821.

Emma Hayleigh, Wife of John Hayleigh, Found.

Carolanne’s throat constricts, her eyes scanning the article urgently.

Missing 3 days. Following the death of their daughter, Cora.

Fervently, Carolanne flips through another book, Birth, Death and Marriage Records 1800 - 1850. Her fingers carefully, but quickly turning to 1821, then scanning through to the “H” names. She runs a finger gently down the page until she finds it:

Emma Woodsley Hayleigh, 24 years, drowned, December 25, 1821.

“Christmas Day?” Carolanne’s voice, though a mere whisper, sounds foreign to her. “Why would she be swimming? That water would have been freezing!”

Carolanne turns the pages back through the year before to 1820, searching through the “H” names.

Cora Elizabeth Hayleigh, 5 years. Accidental Poisoning.

“Accidental Poisoning? How?” Carolanne’s thoughts shift to Emma. “Maybe she drowned herself?”

“That's what is believed.” The librarian’s voice cuts through the dark reverie, startling Carolanne out of her seat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Approaching the desk, she looks down at the photo from the Spring Festival, before turning a few pages. Running a hand down an old photograph in somber remembrance. “Cora was sick many times.”

“It said accidental poisoning. Are there any medical records or coroner reports?” Carolanne begins to thumb through some pages, searching.

The librarian turns to the bookshelf, scans the spines, pulling a large black book from the far end. Wiping the dust off the jacket, she places it gently in Carolanne’s hands.

“My great-grandfather was the doctor in the town at that time. Stories about the investigations into both deaths were told throughout my family.” She releases the book, patting the top. “This has a lot of those stories in it.”

“Thank you.” Looking at her watch, Carolanne begins to collect her things. “I should go, my husband should be back to get me by now. Again, thank you.” As Carolanne reaches the lobby, the librarian calls out to her.

“Mrs. Hayleigh, do you have children?”

Confused, Carolanne shakes her head. “No, why?”

“Good.”

Bennet hollers from the car, “I’ve been waiting for 10 minutes. Didn’t you see my text?”

“Sorry, I was talking to the librarian about the house.”

“What’s that?” Bennet points to the book with his chin as he pulls out onto the main road.

“Oh.” The book of doctor notes, nearly forgotten, is still clutched to her chest. “This might shed some light on the family that lived in our house.”

“Annie,” Bennet let out a little laugh. “My family lived there.”

“I know that, but I want to know more.”

Carolanne tells him about the photo and the deaths, but not about what she's experiencing. She doesn’t see the point in frightening him. Or more likely, him thinking she's crazy.

That evening, she settles onto the chaise with a cup of hot tea to settle her stomach and the doctor’s notes. Flipping through pages of conjecture and observation, she comes across another name, Sarah Monroe Hayleigh, who died after a mysterious sickness. Then another name surfaces, Mildred Whitaker Hayleigh, and then another, Jane Thatcher Hayleigh. Elizabeth, Katherine, Josephine, Dianne, Gwendolyn, Christine, and Amy followed. Carolanne pours over pages of notes, looking for a pattern. Anything other than the last name.

“Bennet! Bennet!”

Bennet comes rushing into the office. “What is it?”

She thrusts the book at him, jabbing her finger into the text. “Read this!” Pacing and wringing her hands, her voice grows tight. “I knew it! Something is wrong with the house! Read it!”

“I’m trying to.”

Snatching the book from him, she turns a page. “Poisoning symptoms but no poisons present!”

“Ok?” Bennet bends to retrieve a photo, cast to the floor in her tirade.

“They died. All the mothers. ”

“Annie, calm down. Medicine was different then.”

The color draining from his face, Bennet stared at the photo in his hand of Emma holding a small doll.

A loud crash reverberates through the foyer and they rush to see what caused it.

“Where did the doll come from, Bennet?”

Sitting on the chair beside the staircase, soft curls of blonde cascading just past her shoulders, delicate pale blue dress trimmed with crisp white lace and patent leather shoes, a doll with rosy cheeks and lifelike brown eyes, stared back.

“In a trunk.” Bennet passes her the photo, still staring at the doll..

She glances down at the photo, swallowing the lump caught in her throat. “What trunk?”

“Upstairs.” Bennet hesitates for a moment. “But...I didn’t put it there.”

A door slams at the top of the stairs, drawing their eyes. Footsteps thunder overhead and another door slams. Looking at each other, faces wrought with panic, before looking back at the doll they see her head turn slightly and a small smile pull at her face.

“What the hell?” Bennet grabs her hand, spinning her to face him. “Tell me this isn’t real.”

“Cora.” Carolanne whispers as she pulls a photo from her sweater pocket, handing it to him. “Her name is Cora. She was 5 years old. Her mother poisoned her.”

“My God.” Bennet looks from the photo to the doll. “It’s a carbon copy.”

“It’s more than that.” Her eyes dart to the top of the stairs, the hollow, glowing eyes looming in the darkness. “Something evil is here .”

“Wait, What? No.This is crazy. You’re playing with me.” Fear gives way to anger as he shoves the photo back in her hands. “You didn’t want to move, I get that. But this is going too far!”

Bennet storms back into the office, with Carolanne close at his heels.

Gathering the notes, she pushes them into his hands. “Please, Bennet.”

Pointing to a page, in old scribbled cursive are Dr. Addison T. Whitmore’s notes.

Cora, aged 5 years, “accidental” poisoning - Arsenic - Mother ? 1820 - Many times I treated her sickness, returning sick again once her mother took her home.

Emma, aged 24 years, “drowned” - 1821 - Plagued by visions of her daughter. Treated many times for hysteria.

John - moved from Alderton Estate - 1824 - John understandably distraught over the loss of his wife and child, saying the home was filled with the ghosts of their echoes.

Alderton Estate - Vacant 1824 to 1828

Sarah, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1830

Mildred , 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1840

Continued by Dr. Henry A. Whitmore’s notes.

Jane, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1860

Alderton Estate vacant from 1862 to 1879

Elizabeth, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1880

Katherine, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1890

Continued by Dr. Alexander H. Whitmore’s notes.

Josephine, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1910

Dianne, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1920

Gwendolyn, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1930

Christine, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1950

Amy, 24 years - hallucinations - poisoning? No poisons present. 1970

Alderton Estate - Vacant - 1975

“See?” Carolanne gently takes the book as he collapses to the sofa, shaking his head.

“But, how?”

“John made a doll to comfort Emma, who poisoned Cora, in small amounts at first.”

“But why?”

Carolanne shrugs, “No clue.”

“The others?”

“Cora. I think she was protecting their children. Thinking mothers hurt their children, because hers hurt her.”

“But why is she here now? If she only attacks mothers?” Realization dawns on them both as they look at each other. “You don’t think --?”

The nausea, headache, and tingling limbs flood back to her. Eyes wide, she stares at Bennet.

“We have to stop it.” Bennet storms out into the foyer. “Cora!”

The doll’s head turns towards Bennet.

The house begins to shake. The eyes peer in from the darkness and all the doors fling shut on the house, locking them in.

Carolanne watches in horror as a new date is scribbled on the page:

Alderton Estate - Vacant 2021