DUMBWAITER
You ease open the door of the dumbwaiter, expecting a screech of rusted hinges. That’s definitely what is holding you back, not the fact the dumbwaiter is an ominous staple of every haunted mansion novel you’ve ever known. There is some resistance at first, but the door opens suspiciously easily otherwise. A cold, dusty air oozes out around you as you step closer. The shaft leads up, while a piece of luggage seems wedged just inside the door.
You know better. You really do. It’s not the aforementioned horror novels of course, it’s that logically, the ancient mechanism holding the pulley system in place could give out at any moment, causing you grave injury. You push your logical, not superstitious, trepidation aside and lean into the cold darkness of the small passage. You can see the bottom-side of the dumbwaiter cart further up, but can’t reach it. You carefully, but hastily, remove your head from its potential path.
On the way out, your hand scrapes against a fragment of wood that seems to have fallen down from the platform above:
You attempt to lower the cart, but the dumbwaiter won’t function. It seems to be missing some pieces…
While handling the luggage, your attention is grabbed by movement, a line of mist pouring from the dumbwaiter. It pools on the floorboards below, then starts to form upwards into the shape of a worn-looking man in a hat.
“Funny how you can’t leave some things behind, ain’t it? Not even in death.”
“You must be the lodger, Mr. Emmett?”
“And you must be stark mad mingling with the likes of this place, after what happened and all.”
“Perhaps, but there are questions I want answers to.”
“Go ahead, I obviously have nowhere else to be.”
“I was fairly busy. I had been out during much of the day running a few errands for myself. When I got back to the McDermott’s place, Vera came and got me from my room. She needed help moving some furniture or some such truck. I obliged. A nasty storm was brewing, I could smell it before we left. Well, we didn’t make it far down the road before Vera’s car knackered out on us just as it started to pour rain. Lo and behold this salesman fellow pulls up right along, impeccable timing really, and gives us a lift back. Once inside we all try to warm up a bit, and I head to my room. Remember when I said I remembered fairly much everything? Well whatever happened next is the part I can’t recollect. Next thing I knew I was here, floating about, as curious as everyone else as to what had transpired.”
“A little hit or miss, as the saying goes. Charles was a good man, willing to give room and board to a stranger at times like these. Miss Elsie was his pride and joy, and was a real bundle of smiles for most folks. Well, Mrs. Vera was a touch standoffish, but I think that was just her nature. She took me by surprise, asking me to go into town with them that day. Usually Mrs. Vera did what she could to pretend I didn’t exist. Her boy, Virgil, was the same. Smart little whip, just a bit skittery when it came to getting to know folk. Moody-like, you know? Ms. Jane was polite enough, at least, more so than Mrs. Vera.”
“I traveled around a bit, lodged in a few other homes here and there, sometimes hotels. Rambling about, as it were, following jobs where they could be found. This was the longest time I’d let a room in someone’s home before. Before I died, I’d even thought I was finally making some headway with Mrs. Vera, seeing as how I was getting along right with the kids, and kept an eye on them from time to time.”
You know better. You really do. It’s not the aforementioned horror novels of course, it’s that logically, the ancient mechanism holding the pulley system in place could give out at any moment, causing you grave injury. You push your logical, not superstitious, trepidation aside and lean into the cold darkness of the small passage. You can see the bottom-side of the dumbwaiter cart further up, but can’t reach it. You carefully, but hastily, remove your head from its potential path.
On the way out, your hand scrapes against a fragment of wood that seems to have fallen down from the platform above:
You attempt to lower the cart, but the dumbwaiter won’t function. It seems to be missing some pieces…
While handling the luggage, your attention is grabbed by movement, a line of mist pouring from the dumbwaiter. It pools on the floorboards below, then starts to form upwards into the shape of a worn-looking man in a hat.
“Funny how you can’t leave some things behind, ain’t it? Not even in death.”
“You must be the lodger, Mr. Emmett?”
“And you must be stark mad mingling with the likes of this place, after what happened and all.”
“Perhaps, but there are questions I want answers to.”
“Go ahead, I obviously have nowhere else to be.”
“You must be the lodger, Mr. Emmett?”
“And you must be stark mad mingling with the likes of this place, after what happened and all.”
“Perhaps, but there are questions I want answers to.”
“Go ahead, I obviously have nowhere else to be.”
“I was fairly busy. I had been out during much of the day running a few errands for myself. When I got back to the McDermott’s place, Vera came and got me from my room. She needed help moving some furniture or some such truck. I obliged. A nasty storm was brewing, I could smell it before we left. Well, we didn’t make it far down the road before Vera’s car knackered out on us just as it started to pour rain. Lo and behold this salesman fellow pulls up right along, impeccable timing really, and gives us a lift back. Once inside we all try to warm up a bit, and I head to my room. Remember when I said I remembered fairly much everything? Well whatever happened next is the part I can’t recollect. Next thing I knew I was here, floating about, as curious as everyone else as to what had transpired.”
“A little hit or miss, as the saying goes. Charles was a good man, willing to give room and board to a stranger at times like these. Miss Elsie was his pride and joy, and was a real bundle of smiles for most folks. Well, Mrs. Vera was a touch standoffish, but I think that was just her nature. She took me by surprise, asking me to go into town with them that day. Usually Mrs. Vera did what she could to pretend I didn’t exist. Her boy, Virgil, was the same. Smart little whip, just a bit skittery when it came to getting to know folk. Moody-like, you know? Ms. Jane was polite enough, at least, more so than Mrs. Vera.”
“I traveled around a bit, lodged in a few other homes here and there, sometimes hotels. Rambling about, as it were, following jobs where they could be found. This was the longest time I’d let a room in someone’s home before. Before I died, I’d even thought I was finally making some headway with Mrs. Vera, seeing as how I was getting along right with the kids, and kept an eye on them from time to time.”