Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too, -
If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send
Those that we bury, back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.
—Shakespeare (Macbeth, 3.4)
-September 13, 2009-
Jacob Eugene Postal Junior watched the cemetery that sat across from the driveway, with a heavy sigh. He has always found it a bit unsettling that his family had built the family mansion so close to the family cemetery. Sometimes, he could swear he saw people walking around the gravestones.
But no, that couldn’t be possible. Could it?
For one, no one is brave enough to walk through the cemetery during the day, let alone at night. For another, the only other explanation would be that the rumors are true.
The cemetery is haunted.
But there’s no such thing as ghosts...is there?
Jacob sighed as he turned to walk through the double doors, that led into his bedroom. His father, Jacob Postal Senior, had left him this house along with his fortune, when he had tragically died, two months ago.
The 4th of July will never be the same again.
“Your father wouldn’t want you to mop around like this.” A tall, beautiful woman said, as she stood inside the door of his room.
Jacob looked at his mother. What would she know, about what his father would or wouldn’t want? Jacob Senior had wanted his wife and son, but Betty hadn’t wanted them.
Jacob had chosen to live with his father when Betty had divorced him, ten years ago. She had acted like she cared, but Jacob never believed her. She’d always been a good actress, hadn’t she?
“Why are you still here, Mother?”
The moment Betty Blackpin had been told of her first husband’s death, she and her husband Greg; had flown down here. Along with his stepbrother, Edward.
Edward is six years older than Jacob and has always been jealous of him.
“What do you know of what father would like or want?” Jacob asked with a snarl.
He watched his mother’s face fall as she frowned at him.
“You will never forgive me for leaving your father, will you?”
Jacob shook his head. “You left me too.”
“You had a choice, Jacob Postal, and you chose to stay with your father.”
Jacob snorted. “One of us had to.”
Betty took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She understands her son’s anger. But to hate her for the rest of his life?
“You know I still love your father. He was my first love...”
“Love?” Jacob asked. “What do you know of love?”
“Dinner is ready.” She said testily, then turned and left his room.
Yeah, that’s it, run away, just as you always have. He thought as he watched his mother leave.
He took a deep breath to control his anger. He doesn’t hate his mother; he never has. But he would be damned if he was going let her know how much she has hurt him.
He felt an unwanted tear slide down his cheek and quickly wiped it away. He’s twenty-one, for God’s sake, too old to be ruled by his emotions. He turned back to the double doors that led out to the balcony. He owns this mansion now. It’s all his.
What does he need with so many rooms?
“Fill the rooms with children, laughter, love, and happiness.” His father’s words from long ago came to him. He had just turned fifteen, and his father had told him about his inheritance.
Kids. Yeah, like he’s going to have any of those.
He walked back out onto the balcony and looked out at the cemetery again.
“What do I do now, Father?”
Jacob heard a noise behind him and started to turn, but before he could fully turn around, a large body slammed into his middle and knocked the air from his lungs. He swung his arm out and felt a deep satisfaction when his fist connected with something, and he heard a crunch.
With a horrendous growl, his assailant raised his head and slammed it into Jacob’s face. Dizzy, and still trying to catch his breath, Jacob felt his back ram against the banister rails, and before he could catch himself, he was shoved over the rails. With a cry, he grabbed hold of the banister.
He looked up at his attacker, who was looking down at him with a wicked grin.
“You.” Jacob said with a growl.
“Me.” Edward Blackpin said.
Jacob saw the blood flowing from his stepbrother’s nose, and new he had broken it. He felt a sadistic satisfaction in knowing he had done that.
What is the man playing at?
“Help me up.” Jacob said as he tried to pull himself up.
Edward grabbed hold of Jacob’s arms, and Jacob sighed with relief. What was the man’s game, anyway?
He looked into the other man’s eyes, and the warm blood in his veins turned to ice.
“You are so used to getting whatever you want.” Edward said as he leaned closer to Jacob’s face. “It took me ten years, but I finally got rid of your old man.”
Jacob’s eyes opened wide. He had had suspicions that it hadn’t been a freak accident. His father had done firework displays on this land, for more than thirty years.
“I had had to wait for everything to be finalized into your name, and now...”
Jacob tried to place his feet on the bars, so he could push himself upward...
“Your mother is next.” Edward hissed, then let go.
Jacob hollered as Edward let him go and he fell to his death.
Betty Blackpin and her husband, ran outside when they heard Jacob’s scream. Her own scream was deafening when she found her son’s body in the driveway.
Edward ran outside and held back a grin. “I had heard him holler and tried to get to him. But I tripped and hit my face on a door.” That should explain his broken nose, grief blinds people to the truth.
Greg Blackpin held his screaming wife as he called 911.
Two months later, Betty Blackpin fell down the stairs at the Postal Mansion and broke her neck.
Greg Blackpin inherent the Postal holdings, and sold all the properties, then he and his son moved to the Caribbean’s, where they retired and lived happily ever after.
The new owners of the Postal Mansion turned it into a bed and breakfast. The expensive getaway became popular as the stories of the ghosts and the cemetery, spread worldwide.
Everyone from all over the world came with their cameras, hoping to catch the handsome Jacob Eugene Postal Junior’s Ghost.