The Haunting at Visser Manor
As I arrived home, the familiar sound of my neighbors arguing reached my ears right on schedule. Jessie and his new fling positioned themselves on opposite sides of the hallway, but the moment they caught sight of me passing by, they fell silent, not uttering a single word. I walked between them, acknowledging their presence with silence, until I reached the haven of my apartment and closed the door behind me. One of the few upsides of this place was the feeble attempt at soundproofing by the designer, as their muffled voices faded away as soon as I entered the bedroom.
Since the breakup, I haven’t spent much time in this apartment. Typically, I stumble in drunk, just in time for bed to catch a few hours of sleep before getting back to the daily grind. Rinse and repeat. Tonight was going to be an unusually quiet and sober one, not typically my style, but the city would be buzzing with cricket fans, filling up every good spot in town.
Lucie was kind enough to lease me a spot in one of her apartment buildings a few years ago. I haven’t exactly held up my end of the bargain when it comes to paying rent, likely because I stopped fucking her. Deep down, I suspect she might use it as an excuse to drop by unexpectedly or even appear in my room one night when I stumble in there. I’d probably have to listen to whatever she has to say, considering I’ve been avoiding her advances lately. It’s not that I can’t afford it—On Edge pays pretty well for the writing I do—but living in a building owned by your ex adds an extra layer of awkwardness, you know? It doesn’t hurt that she’s rich either.
I grabbed my laptop, ready to jumpstart my day tomorrow. Flipping through my agenda, I noticed my meeting with Triston was scheduled bright and early. Another scared soul, another captivating story in the making—perfect material for an article that would hook those twisted horror enthusiasts devouring the weekend papers. Triston’s letter landed in my inbox about a week ago. It didn’t exactly blow my mind, but the way he chose to spill the beans intrigued me. The old Visser Estate, shrouded in tales of the paranormal, had been a hot topic in my inbox for a while. A relic from the days of slavery, some Dutch plantation owner’s masterpiece. Triston’s letter was short, but I knew that place like the back of my hand. I’d heard countless stories about it, some pretty convincing, others not so much. Today’s encounter could swing either way, but that’s what makes it interesting. Triston seemed eager to meet in person, not into the whole email or phone chat thing. Lucky for him, my schedule was wide open this week, so we had the chance to connect face-to-face.
I caught up with him at St. Austin’s Hostel, a hip little spot that the Catholic Church put together a few years ago. It’s primarily occupied by nuns, but they occasionally rent out a few spaces. Who knows, maybe I’ll consider getting a room there if Lucie finally reaches her limit with my freeloadin’ ways. We settled down at a table in the courtyard, and I couldn’t help but notice that the guy was doing pretty damn well for himself. It was clear as day that the flashy BMW parked out front didn’t belong to any of the Sisters.
“Hey, man, glad you could make it. Surprised it was so quick,” he said, extending his hand for a shake, a forced smile on his face.
“Luke. No problem at all. Had a free day, so why not?” I replied, trying to ease the tension with a casual smirk. Didn’t seem to do the trick, though.
As I reached out to shake his hand, I couldn’t help but notice the silky smoothness of his palm, lacking the calluses you’d expect from manual labor. Soft hands like that spoke volumes about his detachment from physical work. Not that I’m judging, but sometimes I envy the affluent and their ability to achieve so much without breaking a sweat.
After exchanging pleasantries and settling back into our seats, it became painfully obvious that he hadn’t slept much. Bloodshot eyes, deep bags beneath them—the guy looked like he was on the brink. I half expected him to confess he’d been partying all night or battling some personal demons. His appearance was way beyond the aftermath of a few late nights at the office, a struggle I knew all too well. Nah, this dude had clearly been plagued by sleepless nights, days spent chasing elusive rest.
“So, should we jump right in, or you wanna give me a quick rundown of who you are?” I asked, grabbing my phone and flicking on the recorder. No need for an intro on tape—I already had his name and deets in my notes.
“I think we can do both. Give you a little background, and that’ll set the stage,” he replied, his voice tinged with timidity. Like he was scared to be here, or maybe he felt like he shouldn’t be. His arm itched incessantly, his eyes darting around the courtyard, and his leg shook uncontrollably. Nerves, I figured, or he’d witnessed something, or thought he had. I flashed him a reassuring smile. Dude was articulate, with a blend of American and British in his accent. Must’ve traveled a bit or wanted to sound fancy.
“Sounds good. Whenever you’re ready,” I said, leaning back in my chair, interlocking my fingers, and crossing my legs.
Right before he began, a nun came over, placing an iced tea in front of him. Seeing my empty hand, he motioned for another, and the nun nodded, smiled, and vanished.
“Alright, here goes,” he sighed deeply. “So, you might have already figured it out, but I come from money. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna make my own living. Went to university, got into cybersecurity. Been at it for about five years now. And my fiancée, Cecile, she’s been by my side for three.”
“Congrats,” I chimed in, genuinely meaning it.
He smiled gratefully and continued, “So, we got engaged and decided it was time to move out of my parent’s place, you know? They didn’t live there, but it was their property, and I wanted something that was truly mine. About six months ago, one of our real estate agents tipped us off about the Visser mansion going up for sale. You know the one, right? Prime beachfront, a touch of colonial vibes, killer view. The property stretches from the main road all the way to the shoreline. They were practically giving it away, way better deal than some generic gated community crap.”
“Yeah, I know all about it. The whole haunted house thing, right?” I cut to the chase, hoping to grab Triston’s attention.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, well, I should’ve seen it as a major red flag. But I brushed it off, thinking maybe the previous owners just wanted to dump it after years of neglect. My fiancée mentioned the spooky rumors, but I didn’t buy into that superstitious crap—at least not at first. So, against everyone’s advice, I went ahead and bought the place. I mean, it needed work, but nothing too drastic.”
Triston took a sip of his iced tea, nodding in approval. It seemed he was enjoying his drink. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of anticipation for mine.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” he continued. “I couldn’t wait to move in with Cecile and start our life together. Money talks, right? So, I threw some serious cash at the renovations. My crew worked their asses off, even on weekends and holidays. In just two months, the place was looking pretty damn good. The structural stuff was minimal, so it didn’t take forever. As soon as it was ready, we packed our bags and moved in.”
Triston pulled out his phone, eagerly showing me pictures of the revamped house. Impressive transformation for such a short time.
“After settling in and getting the last few things done, everything was going great for the first three months,” Triston continued with a smile. “The house was stunning, and we were over the moon. Sure, we didn’t have any neighbors nearby, but we didn’t mind. We were blissfully happy, ready to conquer the world together. Life was good, you know?”
I nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm. A nun appeared, offering me a glass of iced tea. Grateful for the refreshing drink, I took a sip, momentarily craving a neat whiskey alongside it. But given the situation, I had to settle for a non-alcoholic option.
“But then, shit hit the fan,” Triston’s tone shifted, injecting a dose of modern suspense. “On the third day of the third month, everything changed. It wasn’t some minor occurrence—it rocked Cecile to her core. From that moment on, it was all downhill. That night, we followed our usual routine. I had a nightcap, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed next to her. Exhausted, Cecile was already passed out. The sliding glass door leading to our balcony was locked tight. It was a chilly night, colder than usual, with storm clouds looming. But being near the ocean, we were used to those cold breezes. However, that night had a different vibe. The full moon cast an eerie glow, illuminating the room like daylight. I dozed off, only to abruptly wake up at exactly 3:03 AM. I remember the time like it’s etched in my brain. Unsure of what startled me, I lay there, motionless, eyes shut tight, trying to shake off the unease. And then it happened—the sound of creaking, like the damn floorboards were grinding together, followed by an eerie silence. It came from right inside our bedroom. Thing is, we had brand-new floors, and the doors were as silent as ghosts. No creaks, no strange noises. But that night, I heard something inexplicable.”
Triston’s words hung in the air, leaving a modern twist of suspense.
“Yeah, pretty weird if you ask me,” I said, leaning back and twirling the ice in my glass.
“I know, right?! So, I thought to myself, ‘Someone’s in here.’ Maybe thieves or something. Slowly, I reached out to the nightstand, feeling for the drawer knob where I keep my gun. I pulled it out quietly, flicked off the safety, and hid it under the covers. The room was well-lit from the moonlight, so there weren’t many dark corners to hide in. I decided to close my eyes and stay still, thinking if someone was hiding, they’d move once they thought I was asleep again. So, I waited. It didn’t take long before I heard the sound again, louder this time. It was like someone taking slow, deliberate steps, coming from right at the foot of the bed. With my eyes still closed, I knew there were no dark corners in that direction. So, when I opened my eyes, I had to be ready to confront whoever was there in my bedroom,” I explained.
“And...did you eventually open your eyes?” I asked, curious to hear the rest. He shook his head, finishing his drink.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice getting deeper. Goosebumps formed on his arms as he put the glass down. “I opened my eyes and looked towards the foot of the bed. That’s where the balcony doors were, and that’s when I saw it...” He paused, averting his gaze for a moment. “I saw the silhouette of a man. We had thin curtains, so if someone was outside, we would’ve noticed. Plus, the moonlight made everything pretty bright. It was crystal clear. I could tell he was dressed in some fancy suit or tux. He had a cane or some kind of stick in his left hand, just standing there, facing me. And you won’t believe it, but right next to him, there was a freaking horse.”
“Wait...a real horse?” I interrupted, my confusion evident. He chuckled, finding my disbelief amusing.
“Yeah, a real one,” he confirmed. “Its head was moving, tail swaying. It looked completely natural, like an actual horse. Not some statue. The guy just stood there, staring at me. Then, out of nowhere, a gust of wind blew the curtains up, as if the door had opened. But it was still locked. That’s when I got a good look at his face for a couple of seconds. He was wearing this old-fashioned white tux, with a short grey beard. White dude topped off with a hat and a lit cigarette in his mouth. His eyes...man, they shimmered, like mirrors reflecting light. Not red or anything, just weird. It was creepy as hell. I gently woke Cecile, motioning her to stay quiet, and pointed at the glass door. She saw the shadow too. I threw off the covers, sat up, aimed my gun at the guy, and shouted, ‘Who the hell are you? Get off my property or I’ll shoot.’”
His voice quickened, still filled with fear. Tears welled up in his eyes, reliving that terrifying night.
“And then what happened?” I asked, eager to hear more.
“The guy took the cigarette out of his mouth, blew smoke, tipped his hat, and vanished. Poof! Disappeared into thin air. And he took the damn horse with him too. They were both gone,” he said, sighing deeply and briefly making eye contact with me.
“Wow, Triston. That’s quite a story,” I responded, a bit disappointed, thinking it was over. But he stopped me.
“Hold on, we’re not done yet. That’s just the beginning.”
“Sure, spill it.” I may have sounded like an eager kid, but I couldn’t care less about appearances. This was uncharted territory for the Visser Estate tales, and the prospect of hearing more than a single encounter certainly enticed me. Finishing my drink, I leaned forward, fully engrossed, urging him to continue.
“After that night, sleep became a rare luxury. Cecile and I struggled to find rest, constantly jolted awake by creaking floorboards in the dead of night. We tried everything to recreate those sounds during the day, desperate for a rational explanation, but it was futile. Every night, the noises grew louder, drawing closer, but only when we both drifted off. I tried to brush it off, refusing to open my eyes and confront whatever the hell it was after that first encounter. But deep down, I knew something was amiss. Reality sank in—the place was messed up, and I had to get out before something else happened. Little did I know, I was about to get the wake-up call of a lifetime.”
One of the sisters brought more iced tea and cleared away the empty glasses. Triston waited until we were alone again before continuing his eerie tale.
“Alright, where was I? Oh, yeah. About two weeks later, still haunted by the nightly disruptions, we had almost grown accustomed to them. Then, one night, around midnight, I got a work call. Not an emergency or anything, but it demanded my immediate attention. It was either a Friday night or early Saturday morning—can’t recall exactly. I was up at the time, so I decided to swing by the office. Assuring Cecile I’d be back soon, I headed out. I kept my visit brief, just as I promised. On my way home, I spotted a figure on the side of the road. A young woman standing between two streetlights, but it was too dim to make out her face. She wore a white dress like she was dressed up for a wedding or something. I drove past without stopping, never a good idea to pick up strangers at that hour, especially when alone. I carried on, and then—”
Triston leaned in, his voice lowering to a hushed tone. Intrigued, I leaned closer, captivated by his words.
“It’s crazy, but as I drove, nothing more came into view. So I kept going. Almost home, a strange sensation crept over me—I wasn’t alone anymore. Instinctively, I glanced at the rearview mirror and saw someone sitting in my back seat, staring right at me. I slammed the brakes, eyes locked on the figure. The car screeched to a halt after skidding about ten feet. I was shocked, terrified, and curious all at once. Without breaking eye contact, I watched as the person slowly lifted their head, meeting my gaze. It was her—the same woman I saw on the road, dressed in black. Her face, decayed and twisted, replaced by rotting flesh. Her eyes shimmered, like the man I encountered on my balcony that fateful night. A chilling smile formed, revealing blackened teeth. The stench was unbearable. A dead woman occupied my car. She had been dead for who knows how long. I felt like retching or passing out, maybe both. Desperate, I reached for the door handle, longing to escape. But then, she spoke to me.”
Triston’s eyes welled up with tears, his arms covered in goosebumps. Nervously, he scanned the room as if anticipating her return. Intrigued, I couldn’t help but ask, “What did she say?” My voice mirrored his, barely above a whisper, fully absorbed in the haunting tale. He stared past me, seemingly in a trance, before breaking the silence.
“One by one, they moved in sight... bringing regret, their pain to ignite... soon they’ll flee, desperate for the door... but bet they won’t make it past four.”
It sounded like a chilling poem or a haunting melody, delivered in the most emotionless, robotic tone I had ever heard him use. Tears streamed down his face, his eyes wide and unblinking. I thought he had finished, but after a prolonged pause, he continued.
“They take what isn’t theirs to claim... so here you’ll stay, enslaved by shame... lest they forget their deepest fears... then watch it all burn up in flames.”
I sat there, stunned and speechless, my gaze fixed on him in disbelief. It was as if something else had taken hold of him completely. Trying to follow his line of sight, I searched for what had captured his attention so intensely. Yet, he seemed to be staring at nothing, transfixed by some invisible presence. Leaning back in my chair, I watched him blink a few times, finally breaking the spell.
“Sorry, man. It’s just...”
“No worries,” I interrupted, “We can stop if you want.”
He locked eyes with me, determination in his gaze. “No, we have to keep going.”
“Alright then, what happened next?” I inquired, my curiosity burning brightly.
Triston paused, his eyes filled with a mix of terror and determination. I could sense his unease as he continued the haunting tale.
Triston took a deep breath, his voice trembling with tension as he continued the story.
“I sat there, stunned and speechless, as an icy chill filled the car. Something was terribly wrong, and fear gripped my heart. Summoning the courage, I asked her in a barely audible voice, ‘Who are you? Why are you here?’
“She slowly turned her decaying face towards me, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. Her voice, a sinister whisper, slithered through the air. ‘I am their pain made flesh,’ she hissed. ‘Their deepest fears come alive.’
“A shiver ran down my spine. ‘But why me?’ I managed to stammer.
“Leaning closer, her eyes gleaming with malevolence, she whispered, ‘Because you trespassed into their realm. You crossed their path.’
“The realization hit me like a freight train. I had stumbled into something beyond my understanding, something dark and malevolent.
“Trembling, I mustered the courage to ask one final question, ‘How do I escape this nightmare?’
“Her laughter filled the car, a haunting sound that sent chills down my spine. ‘You can’t escape what has already claimed you,’ she whispered. ‘You belong to them now, burdened by their regrets.’
“Silence engulfed the car, broken only by the pounding of my heart. I knew then that there was no way out. The dead woman’s presence, her chilling words, and the oppressive atmosphere were inescapable.
“Driven by desperation, I flung the car door open and sprinted into the night, leaving the ghastly apparition behind. But no matter how far I ran, they were always one step behind, their whispers echoing in my ears, their touch lingering on my skin.”
“That night, I ran for what felt like an eternity, pursued by the phantoms of my past. But no matter how fast I fled, they closed in, their presence suffocating me. I don’t know when or how, but I blacked out after a while. I woke up a few hours later with Cecile stroking my hair in bed telling me I came home late that night and slept like a log for 2 days. Only, I can’t remember any of it.”
“In the days that followed, the eerie occurrences only intensified within the walls of our home. Shadows danced on their own, unsettling whispers echoed through the rooms at night, and an unrelenting chill permeated the air. It became apparent that the Visser Estate harbored something far more malevolent than we could have ever imagined.”
I leaned forward, captivated by Triston’s words, feeling a shiver run down my spine.
“Cecile and I couldn’t ignore the mounting evidence any longer. We knew we had to confront the malevolence that had infiltrated our lives. But the weight of our choices bore heavily upon us, the burden of sacrifice lurking in the shadows.”
Triston’s voice dropped to a hushed tone, heightening the suspense.
“We ventured into the hidden recesses of the estate, unearthing fragments of its tragic history. Whispers of a ritual, veiled in secrecy, hinted at a way to banish the darkness. It spoke of a price to be paid, a delicate choice to appease the relentless spirits that plagued the Visser Estate.”
My heart pounded, anxiety coursing through me as I contemplated the harrowing choices they faced. A sense of unease mingled with determination as Triston’s words hung in the air, the weight of their choices becoming almost tangible.
“Cecile and I grappled with the unbearable decision. The burden of sacrifice loomed, threatening to tear us apart. The haunting whispers urged us forward, pressing us to choose, to offer up what was most precious.”
His tone now sounded more foreboding than ever. I sensed a bit of accomplishment in his voice.
“She wasn’t game, Luke!” He shouted, “She couldn’t make the choice even though I begged her to. She decided to leave me with the decision, but I wasn’t weak like her. I did my part. And now I can’t know peace in life and her soul will never know peace in death. She did this to us!”
Triston grabbed the edges of the table so hard his knuckles became white. He stood up and moved towards me as I got up and backed away slowly.
“She fucking did this, Luke. She did this!”
