From the upcoming book, “Haunted Heirlooms: Antique Dealers Reveal Their Stories”. To be published in the spring by Beyond The Fray Publishing. Copyright (C) 2022 Anna Maria Manalo. All rights reserved.
Recap of Chapter 2:
Sam ends up in his parents’ summer home in Bar Harbor after his parents die suddenly within days of viewing the lithograph in his drawing room wall. Was it a coincidence? Grieving and distraught, Sam won’t take any chances and takes the rare lithograph to the store to attempt to sell it. But somehow it ends up in his house again. At the summer home, Sam plans his next attempt to rid his family of the print, but his thoughts ramble and become disjointed as his anxiety mounts and his mental health deteriorates. In chapter 3, we flash back to his wife Alice’s discovery of the lithograph which had miraculously returned to it’s original location: On the drawing room wall.
Here now is chapter three:
Chapter 3
Alice left work early, ridden with a headache she couldn’t shake. She ascended the stairs to the master bedroom, shaking off her work outfit with the tartan pants and houndstooth scarf Sam had given her last Christmas.
She slipped into a comfortable jogging suit with a pink hoodie borrowed from Jean, their older daughter now in Salve Regina, majoring in Art History. Then, she decided to take a nap and opted for the comfortable sofa facing the fireplace in the family room.
Across from her she had a view of the baby grand and the rest of the drawing room beyond.
Hours later, Sam gets a call: “Hon, are you busy?”
“Alice. Feeling better?”
An intake of breath. “I am, but I need to ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“I thought you hung that lithograph in the store?”
Sam paused, walked out of the counter and looked across the adjacent room where several articles of furniture sat. He eyed it on the wall, warily approaching as he held the cell to his ear.
He stood a few feet, managing not to stare too long.
“I did. I’m looking at it.”
Silence.
“I’m looking at it NOW, ” said Alice.
A creepiness inched up Sam’s spine as he heard Alice’s voice tremble.
He breathed in. “Take a picture and text it. Now.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
A chime issued from his mobile.
He looked down.
“There.”
It was THE lithograph.
The drawing room wallpaper of fleur de lis showed on the corners of the framed print.
Perturbed, discomfited, in awe. Words that describe Sam in that moment of silent hysteria. No.
“Alice, don’t look at it. I’m coming home.”
He put the cellphone down, examining the incredible. He compared it against what Alice just texted to him as an image. How can we have two now? He thought. What the hell.
Sam glanced around making sure there were no customers, not even the manager, at the store. Then he took it off the wall. Face down and into a drawer behind the counter. He locked it. Then, he drove home, his head swimming.
At home he approached the drawing room, the wall, tore it from its nail and told Alice a lie: Yes, hon, I forgot to bring it to the store. Sorry, hon, I was so busy I am now getting forgetful. Behind her, he tried to tear it up.
Then – he looked at it. It wasn’t the same print. Fuck this, Sam thought. It evaded his hands, flying to the floor. He smashed the empty frame, glass shattering onto the wool carpet. Sorry, Alice. Butterfingers today. Tired. She walked away, too tired to comment.
In disbelief, Sam looked at the print again. It was a child’s crayon drawing. Jean’s. Sam was destroying his own daughter’s third grade art. Fuck I am now hallucinating, he thought. Alice is now hallucinating. My parents must have been hallucinating.
I think not, Sam thought, his mood shifting deeper into twilight, his mind flowing in tangents, in disarray:
I promised myself it would go even though it was rare.
There was only one place left. Your summer house, Mom.
Sorry.
I buried the dratted print by your rose bushes, Mom – after what Alice and I experienced. A twin lithograph. Yeah, right. We were only given one even if there may have been a dozen. Impossible. How can it be? A static image duplicating itself and bilocating?
Nope. Alice will NEVER know this.
NEVER.
It would scare the living crap out of her.
What the hell did you give us, Dan? What the fuck did I ever do to you? DON’T LOOK AT IT, Alice. Please. Should I tell you it’s changing right before my eyes?
So I buried it up here – THIS summer house where you dreamed of your golden years, Mom and Dad. We’re selling your property anyway. We’re not being ungrateful.
Believe me, I tried to sell it. BUT we were just about breaking even – ever since a bunch of customers saw…
Fuck you, Dan.
Mel, you knew it too.
Fuck you.
