The Diary of a Wizard Seventy: The House that’s Really Really not Haunted

Barry S. Brunswick

6 months ago

The Diary of a Wizard blog brought to you by Barry S. Brunswick Week 70. There is a Wizard sitting at a desk writing with a quill by candlelight.

Hey Friend!

Welcome to another enthralling edition of the magical blog, The Diary of a Wizard. This week we’re celebrating Halloween, so surely things will get poop-your-pants spooky this time out. I have to go house-sit a big mansion on a hill that always seems to have thunder and lightning above it, and a spooky skeleton type tree sitting outside, that is definitely, in no way, haunted.

I got a call from the old Crypt-Keeper, Lenny is his name. He had to go out of town and see to his dead mother or something. She’s been dead for thirty years, so I have no idea what’s going on there. But he needed someone to tend the mansion that comes with the whole crypt-keeping gig. Has to have some perks though, I guess.

Knowing Halloween is soon, my first instinct was to say no, but he said most of his friends are dead so they can’t make it, and it had to be me. Apparently, I’m the only one alive enough for the task. This does make me question if his friends are dead cos that’s how he likes people, or being his friend actually kills you. Anyway, never to be one to be afraid of being struck by a sudden case of deadness, reluctantly, I agreed.

It was a perfectly sunny day when I left but by the time I arrived it was all gloomy and stormy and that was when I saw the dark and foreboding shadow on the hill that was the Crypt-Keeper’s Mansion. Right away, at first glance, lightning crashed behind it. It was definitely not haunted though.

I made my way up the hill, through the rusty iron gates with spooky faces all over them and up to the massive door with a troll knocker. There was a note taped there.

“Please Knock,” it said.

Funny, I thought to myself. I thought no one was home.

I knocked anyway, the appropriate three slow deliberate ones, that echoed around The Enchanted Woods.

Slowly the non-haunted door of the non-haunted mansion, creaked open… On its own… Just like that.

I stood looking into the huge hallway with a winding staircase and portraits all the way up it. I stepped inside and my steps echoed around, even though I was wearing my indoor slippers. It was pretty dusty but what else would you expect from a house owned by a crusty old geezer like Lenny? Then the door slammed behind me. It is a drafty old place though, so it was probably just that.

As I went up the stairs, the portrait’s eyes watched me all the way, of course, but I’m certain they weren’t haunted, just special paint had been used. Like some kind of movey paint. I’m sure that’s a thing.

I checked out the guest room where I was to sleep. It looked nice enough, floral bedding, a few cobwebs and a note that said, “Enjoy the night… If you survive”. Sounds pretty ominous if I’m honest.

I was beater than a beatnik’s bongo after my travels, and night had fallen, so I thought I should catch some winks and finish exploring bright and breezy in the morrow.

Had I hoped for some winks, I was very much mistaken. I think it was the wind, and the plumbing that sounded like “wooooing” and clanking of chains walking down the stairs all night. I mean it could have been ghosts but that would mean the place was haunted and we all know, it’s not.

Then even though the morning came and it was light, it was still dark there for some reason. I made my way downstairs and made a cup of coffee. Well, I made three before I found a cup that didn’t just leap off the counter and smash on the floor of its own accord. I thought I’d watch some TV, but turns out, old Lenny doesn’t have a TV. I had to wonder what he does when he’s not hanging with dead people.

I went through the mansion, exploring. First, I came to a Victorian nursery with this creepy looking doll that’s head turns three sixty when you go in there and a tingy music box playing a slow creepy “Daisy Daisy”. Weird, when Lenny hasn’t got any kids. I bet there’s a real monster in the closet in there as well.

Then I thought I saw a spectre on the stairway landing, but it was probably just my eyes playing tricks on me. My ears were playing tricks on me too when she spoke. I think she said I was “dooommmed”. I guess we all are, if you really think about it.

Then I found a library stacked with books, so I went over and read a few of the titles to check out what Lenny likes to read. Strangely, every single one of them was called “The Book of the Damned”. I started to not like that place. Couldn’t be haunted after all, could it?

Against my better judgement I went down to the basement, which of course had a glowing furnace. There were candles burning and lots of weird symbols painted on the walls in red paint, at least I thought it was red paint. Guess I found out what old Lenny does in his spare time then, make weird sinister alters to scare the pants off people. Of course, I wasn’t afraid, I just so happened to get out of there, really really quickly.

So, with a racing heart and shaking hand, I went to explore the grounds. There was a big overgrown garden which became all misty the further I ventured down. I reached a spooky archway leading to a cemetery of all things. I ask you, who has a graveyard in their garden? Okay, things were getting weird. Why was there green mist lingering around all the gravestones?

I crouched to read one of the prominent stones. All of a sudden a green hand burst from the soil. I screamed. I ran a bit until I heard a cackling. A cackling that I happened to recognise—Caladium Crane. She had been pranking me. I stopped and turned around to find her there with a smoke machine having a thoroughly wonderful time.

“Oh, I had to get you back for that Chuckcock stunt!” she screeched and cackled some more. “That was really rotten of you.”

Now was my turn to cackle. And if you don’t know what the hell we’re talking about, you can catch up on the last edition here.

“What did you do with him?” I asked. “Leave him with some other unfortunate soul?”

“Nah, don’t be silly. I ate him.”

I shook my head. Why would I not have assumed that she wouldn’t eat him when she eats everything, especially alive stuff? I mean, he was pretty annoying so maybe it’s for the best. “Yeah, you got me good this time you rascal. May I ask, I see how you did most of it, but how did you make the scary spectre on the landing that told me I was “dooommmed” then? That was a neat trick.”

“Spectre… On the landing? That… That… Wasn’t me,” she stammered.

“What about the sinister alter in the basement?”

“I… I.. Didn’t go… go in the basement!”

We looked at each other with a wide-eyed look of terror and got on legs and headed for the hills, screaming. We parted ways shortly thereafter, but I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.

When I was at home safe and sound, I reflected on my time in the haunted house. What I learned is no matter how much you believe a place isn’t haunted, if it actually is haunted it’s still haunted, and belief has nothing to do with the existence of hauntedness.

I don’t think I’ll be friends with Lenny the Crypt-Keeper anymore. Everyone around him seems to be struck with deadness, and on that one, for now, you can count me out.

I felt a slight prang of guilt about Chuckcock and the whole getting eaten by Caladium Crane thing. She’s a bit of a psychopath, I guess, but what can you do, she’s a mate?

I’m gonna go write some cool stories for now. I hope the month brings you tricks, treats, trick and treats, pumpkin spice (whatever that is) and spooky season fun!

See ya next time friend!

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