click one of the titles below.
by Elliot Richard Dorfman
Margie and Ralph Coster finally had enough money to buy a house of their
own in Fishskill, New York. They had skimped and saved while living in a
cramped apartment they had rented ever since their marriage after
graduating from college. Both of them worked as teachers in a secondary
school, but while they loved kids, were sadly unable to have any of their own.
A few days after searching for a place, Ralph found a beautiful colonial house
for sale at 229 Maple Avenue. It was perfect timing, because the retired
owners were anxious to settle in Florida. The price of the house was
affordable, and they were even throwing in most of their beautiful furniture. At
last, the Costers were going to have a house of their dreams, but little did
they realize this dream would turn into a nightmare!
The first few months went well. Despite its age, the house was in excellent
shape. The facilities were all updated, and there was plenty of space. Then a
miracle of sorts occurred in February when Margie found out she was
pregnant. This was a surprise to everyone because all the doctors had said it
was impossible for her to conceive.
At first Marge and Ralph were afraid something would go wrong and the
pregnancy would have to be terminated, but the sonogram showed a healthy
male fetus developing. With no foreseeable complications, the couple busily
began getting ready for the arrival.
Margie's ninth month, Ralph began to act strangely. Frequently he would go
into some kind of short trance. At night there were recurring nightmares that
caused him to scream in his sleep, yet in the mornings there were no
recollections of them. A check up at the doctors indicated there was nothing
physically wrong with him. Relatives and friends felt it was just anxiety of
becoming a father of twins, but Margie was positive it was something out of
her husband's control.
One Saturday night, Max, a close friend of theirs, was invited over to have
dinner with them. They had just finished eating, when Max asked if they knew
anything about the past history of the house. Ralph's eyes suddenly glazed
over. Becoming agitated, he pacing back and forth, his hands making large,
wild gestures.
"This house was built in 1924. I bought it as soon as Elaine and I got
married. We were very happy here until that crazy Ian Johnson put an end to
it. He was the man my wife dated before meeting me. Their relationship
never became serious, but that lunatic could never forget that she rejected
him. One afternoon while I was at work, Ian came here and tired to persuade
Elaine to leave me. When she refused, he beat and strangled her in this very
room. My poor wife never had a chance against that brut."
As Ralph's trance came to an end, he fell to the floor sobbing. His wife and
friend looked at him, stunned. After a pause, he got up, not having the
slightest clue of what had just happened.
The mystery intensified when Max called Margie the next day.
"I went to the local newspaper archives and looked at the nineteen twenty-
four issues to see if there was any validity to Ralph's story. To my surprise,
there was. In the February twenty-eight edition there was an article that
mentioned the murder of Elaine Patterson of 229 Maple Avenue. A
confession note by Ian Johnson was left next to the bruised body. The
murderer was found dead in an alley, after fatally shooting himself. After
doing some further research, I found out that Elaine’s husband, Chris
Patterson, died only a year after the murder. All those who knew him were
convinced it was from a broken heart."
"But how could have Ralph known about the murder?" Margie asked. "The
only information we had about our house was from the abstract papers, and
that only covered property transactions.
"Don’t think me crazy," Max replied, "but I wonder if this could have anything
to do with reincarnation. Maybe you didn't just find your house simply by
chance. Maybe something deep in Ralph was drawn to it. In any case, the
place seems to have triggered off some paranormal behavior in Ralph. I've
studied hypnosis as a hobby and if Ralph agrees, I ‘ll put him in a trance and
try to find out what's going on."
Only a short time ago, Ralph would have laughed at such a suggestion. Now
this unusual situation was wearing him down, both mentally and physically, so
he readily agreed.
It was about 8:00 P.M. the next night when Max came over. The living room
remained cold, despite the fact that the heat was turned up. The room was
darkened and Ralph was seated in the armchair. Max began swinging a
glowing pendulum. Speaking in a soft, but firm voice, Max put Ralph in a
trace. Using some techniques of age regression, he made Ralph recall
memories form his adulthood, then his childhood, and finally before his birth.
"Now what do you see?" asked Max, in a whisper.
The air became heavy in the room. Ralph began to fidget uncomfortably. He
moaned, as his face became flushed. Opening his eyes, he rose and pointed
to the window.
"The murderer has returned."
Max was confused. "What murderer? I don’t understand, Ralph."
For a moment, Ralph swayed back and forth, then he straightened up and
stared directly at Max. "You got the name wrong, Mister. I 'm Chris."
Margie slumped in her chair but no one noticed.
"The murderer is standing in the corner, next to the breakfront."
A tall semi-translucent figure materialized from the shadows. The phantom
spoke in a hallowed voice that would give shivers to any person living, his
eyes glaring with intense hate.
"Now that you have gotten Chris to regain his memory, I have returned for
revenge. It is the only way I will find peace."
Max summoned up enough courage to speak to the phantom. "How can he
help you find peace?"
The ghost quickly responded, "That scoundrel took Elaine away from me. I
could have persuaded her to marry me if she had never met him. I should
have killed him, too. Unfortunately, I realized that after my soul was
languishing in limbo. I was tormented when I was able to see him take on a
new life where everything was going so well for him. To make matter worse, I
was not able to follow the spirit of my beloved Elaine. Eventually, my hate of
Chris manifested enough energy to bring me back here to achieve my goal of
revenge."
The phantom’s form became solid. He moved to Ralph and pushed him
down, putting his hands around Ralph's neck.
Margie suddenly sprang from the chair like a tiger. She stepped in front of
the specter, speaking in a different voice, "I never loved you!"
The phantom let go of Chris and turned to her.
"Elaine?"
"Yes . . . I want you to know that despite your hideous deed, Chris and I have
been united again in a new life. That's how powerful our love is. It will last
forever. There is nothing your disgruntled soul can do about it, so leave us
alone and go back to wherever you belong."
"That's not fair," Ian shouted. "I don't want to remain a restless soul forever."
Suddenly, his powers abated and he quickly faded away.
Ralph, Margie, and Max stood disoriented in the darkened room. Their
memories of the night's events were gone. After a while, Ralph spoke.
"Did anything happen?"
"No" responded Max, scratching his head.
"Max tried to put you in a hypnotic trace," said Margie, turning on the lights,
"but it failed."
"Well, in any case, I ‘m feeling in a much better mood now," Ralph
commented. "I think my weird behavior is finally over."
Margie let out a whimper. "Ralph, I think it is time to go."
"Go where, honey?"
"To the hospital."
At exactly midnight, the Coster family welcomed into this world their son,
Corey. A new phase at 229 Maple Avenue had begun for them.
Both Ralph and Margie were good parents. Their life centered around their
little prince. He was cute with big green eyes and a mop of thick red hair.
Everything seemed to be going well. Then at thirteen, Corey seemed to
acquire a mean streak. He became cruel and sadistic, throwing stones at
stray cats, and bullying children that were weaker than he was. It didn’t take
long before he lost all his friends. Concerned, his parents spoke to him about
his behavior.
"It won’t matter if I have friends once I achieve my goal in life, "Corey insisted.
"And what is that goal?" they asked, puzzled.
"I’m not sure yet, but once I am, the two of you will be the first to know."
A few months later during the night, Margie woke up Ralph.
"I heard some noise downstairs in the kitchen. Could you go there and make
sure everything is okay?"
"It's probably nothing," he replied, ready to fall asleep again.
"Please, honey, check it out. I’ll feel much better." "Okay, okay," Ralph said,
groping for his slippers under the bed.
When Ralph did not return after ten minutes, Margie, cautiously, went down to
the kitchen.
Ralph was laying face down in a pool of blood. As she ran over to him, her
son appeared from behind the door.
"What's happened, Corey?" she screamed out.
"Corey?" he replied in a hallowed voice. "In my former life I was called Ian?"
He grabbed a bloodstained knife from the counter and rapidly plunged it into
Margie's heart.
Her lifeless body fell next to her husband's corpse.
"At last, revenge! Maybe now I can find some peace," said the reincarnated
soul of the murder, removing the knife from his mother and cutting his own
throat.
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