A Haunted Marriage & The Cookie Baking Poltergeist

Chapter 13: Beatrice Nelson: Poltergeist Exterminator

    Michael turned to his side on the mattress still deeply asleep. He stuck his hand above the covers into a stream of sunlight cascading into his bedroom at 7am. The warmth on Michael's hand forced him to jerk his hand back under the white comforter in a reflex reaction. Michael had to be at work by 8:30am and he wasn't awake yet. The previous night he nearly slept on the couch, remembering with whole bed shaking incident, but decided to sleep in his bed anyway. The bed was farther away from the basement, farther from the spirit of Frances Pine. For the entire night, the bed didn't shake at all. Occasionally during the night, Michael would reach to his left to hug his wife, not remembering that his wife wasn't there anymore. However, the scent of her perfume still remained, teasing Michael that she might still exist in his life when in reality she was probably gone forever.

    Michael grabbed Julia's pillow, tucking it into his chest. He inhaled one scent of her aroma before getting out of bed. Michael tossed the pillow on the bed before walking over to the closet to find the black suit and red tie he picked out for his day at school. The suit hung next to a row of empty hangars. Michael lay out the suit on the bed and clothed himself one piece at a time, the shirt followed by the pants and tie. After dressing, Michael picked up his cell phone from his nightstand. Still no text messages or voicemails from his wife. Michael tucked the phone in his pocket before opening the bedroom door.

    The sweet baking smell hit Michael's nose immediately after opening his bedroom door. Bogey ran up to Michael and walked between his legs a few times before darting into the kitchen. Michael took the phone out of his pocket and stared at his text messages once again. Still nothing.

    I know she is probably still pissed off, and justifiable so. After all, I did punch her in the face while she was naked in the shower.

    Michael stared at the phone. He went into his contacts and Julia's smiling face greeted him next to her number. Michael wiped a tear from his eye before dialing her number. After seven rings, Julia's voicemail message stated, "You've reached Julia Blake. Sorry I can't get to the phone right now, please leave a message."

    "Hon, it's me. I just want to say how sorry I am for the other night. I hope the time to yourself helped you out a lot. I do really miss you. Please come home. This place isn't much of a home without you. We could go to therapy, I will go to anger management in the hopes to make this work. I still love you," Michael whispered.

    Michael also sent Julia a text stating: "I love you. Please come back." Michael placed an emoji of a sad, crying face next to his message.

    The kitchen cabinets all stood open and perpendicular to the wall as Michael walked into the kitchen. Bogey ran to the basement door once again to scratch at its base.

    "Bogey cut that crap out. This isn't scaring me anymore Frances. You need to come up with something better," Michael shouted as he grabbed his brewed coffee from the Keurig Machine. Michael used his other hand to slam all of the cabinets shut.

    But I am still not going back into that basement. Wait a minute.

    Michael sat at the kitchen table and gulped down an entire black cup of coffee within one minute. He took his phone from his pocket and accessed his f*******: page. Michael typed in the name Beatrice Nelson in the search field. The search results showed a Beatrice Nelson, Saratoga Springs.

    Mr. Stone said she lived in Saratoga Springs.

    Michael clicked on Beatrice's name to display her f*******: page.

    The profile photo showed a woman, with a round face and equally round glasses perched at the end of a pointed nose. The woman's hair was entirely white and put up in a bun atop her head. Under the photo was a paragraph that stated:

    "I have always been able to communicate with those that have passed on since I was a child. I discovered my gift on a visit to the Saratoga Battlefield. I heard a voice moaning in the field where Benedict Arnold led our troops to victory over the British. I have been able to successfully use my gift to cleanse various home from their spiritual occupation. All these ghosts want to do is move on. And I can help you help them do so. I would be happy to visit any home in the area to give a free estimate for my Poltergeist Extermination services. Please call the number in this profile to set up an appointment."

    Is this woman actually for real?

    Under Beatrice's profile picture were other photos that Michael glanced through. One photo showed a glowing silhouette of a figure standing behind a bar. The caption under the photo said, "This is the ghost of a bartender here is Saratoga Springs." Another black and white photo showed a wooded area at night with a deer in the foreground and what appeared to be a ten year old girl in a nightgown in the background standing in tall grass. The caption on this photo read, "you may think twice before walking through the woods at night anymore with this creepy girl around."

    Michael scrolled down Beatrice's f*******: page to find a story titled Ghosts in the White House. The story read: "President Lincoln's son Willie died in the White House in 1862. Mary Todd Lincoln, who strongly believed in the occult, felt her son's presence around her after his death. Mrs. Lincoln tried conducting seances to communicate with her dead son."

    The last story Michael read on Beatrice's f*******: page was titled A List of 5 Signs Your House Could Be Haunted. The list included:

• Your pet acting in a strange manner

• You feel like physically being touched when no one is around

• You get Goosebumps without any reason

• Furniture shaking or moving without any explanation

• Strange smells, most times a burning smell

    Check, check, check, check, check. I am calling this Beatrice right now. It can't hurt.

    Michael read the phone number on the f*******: page before dialing Beatrice Nelson's number. After five rings a high pitched female voice's message said, "This is Beatrice Nelson, Poltergeist Exterminator, please leave your name, phone number and most importantly your ghostly infestation information so I can better serve you. Thank you."

    After the beep Michael said, "Hello Miss Nelson, my name is Michael Blake, I live at 26 Mulberry Street, Stillwater, NY. I think, better still, I know that my house is haunted. I could really use your help to get this spirit out of my home. Please call me back at 518-345-7777. Thank you."

    Michael finished his call and noticed that the time read 8am.

    s**t I have to get to work, Michael thought as he placed his coffee cup in the sink. He glanced down to make sure that Bogey had enough food and water until he got home.

    Michael jogged out of the kitchen and into his front hallway. He grabbed his keys off the hook before continuing his jog out onto the porch. He jumped down the steps and landed in a pile of leaves. Brown leaves covered the entire driveway. The tree next to Michael's car was now bare and appeared to be dead, dead until the next spring. The leaves crunch with each of Michael's steps to his car, crunching loud enough to nearly drown out the voice of his neighbor.

    "Hello there Michael. Come on over. I want to ask you something," Susan said from her chair on the porch, peeking over the top of her newspaper. This time she was dressed in a red sweater and black jeans.

    "I can't right now. I have to get to work."

    "Come one. Haven't seen you in awhile. This will just take a minute."

    "Ok, but this conversation has to be real quick," Michael said as he left his driveway to approach Susan Idleman's porch.

    Susan folded her newspaper and threw it on the table in front of her. Michael panted when he reached Susan's top step.

    "And how are you Susan?"

    "I have the usual aches and pains of a woman in her seventies, but I can tell something is up with you. History has a way of repeating itself. Your eyes are bloodshot and you didn't get home till late last night. Where is Julia?"

    "She left," Michael said, lowering his voice. "We had a big fight last night and she took her stuff and is gone. I don't know if she's ever coming back."

    "That's such a shame. Another couple from my neighbor's house bites the dust."

    "There's something strange going on in that place. It's been scaring the s**t out of us. It was too much for Julia."

    "Haunted by Frances Pine. That's why the last two couples left. But to be honest that is just an excuse you're using. I read people very well and you two had problems before. The strange stuff there just brought it out in the open."

    "No offense Susan, but this is none of your business. And what was the name of France's family again, you know her son and grandson?"

    "Her grandson was named Jacob Pine from her son Frank. She wasn't that close with her daughter Sally. She moved all the way to Texas and didn't even go to her own mother's funeral. Frances loved Jacob. He actually might be a little older than ten now, maybe early teens."

    "I am trying to get Julia back."

    "I hope you succeed. Too many divorces in America."

    Michael's phone buzzed in his pocket. Hopefully this is Julia.

    "Excuse me Susan," Michael said digging into his pocket to find his phone. By the time he answered it, no one picked up. The voicemail icon came the top of the phone's screen displaying one unheard message. Michael typed in his password to listen to his message.

Please God let this be Julia.

    The entire phone message was in a high pitched voice of a woman. "Hello Mr. Blake. This is Beatrice Nelson returning your call concerning your complaint of ghostly possession in your home. I would be happy to stop by to assess your personal situation. I can be there at four o'clock today. If this date and time works for you I will be there. Only leave me a message if this isn't a problem for you. The sooner we address this problem together the quicker it can be solved and help your dearly departed spirit move on into the afterlife. So long for now. I look forward to meeting you."

    "Was it Julia?" Susan asked.

    "No. Someone else. Some kind of ghost buster who will hopefully remove the ghost of Frances Pine from my home. I can't have my wife come back to a haunted house now can I?"

                                                                                #

    A light knock struck the front door of 26 Mulberry Street at five minutes to four pm. Michael shut off the television and jumped off of his couch to answer the door. Before entering his hallway, he made sure to tuck his shirt back into his pants. Michael looked through the peep hole in the front door and only saw his car parked in the driveway. When he opened the door he understood why.

    Michael opened the door to reveal the four foot eleven figure of Beatrice Nelson. She extended a right hand to Michael full of varicose veins and dotted with tan age spots. Beatrice was dressed in a solid black dress with a silver necklace with a black spider pendant around her neck. The round lenses to her glasses were surrounded by a gold frame. Just like in her f*******: profile, her white hair sat in a bun atop her head. A black ribbon surrounded that bun. One would have easily thought that Beatrice Nelson was an undertaker instead of some sort of ghost hunter.

    "And I take it you're Michael Blake the unfortunate victim of ghostly manifestations in this fine home?"

    My God, she actually looks like the little old lady from the movie Poltergeist.

    "That would be me. Can I get you anything, a cup of coffee or tea perhaps?"

    "No, no, no Mr. Blake. I like to get to work right away."

    "Call me Michael please."

    "Well, well, well Michael, I have only set two feet into your home and I can detect the presence of your dearly departed spirit already. Business had been good for me around this area. My theory is the battlefield is some kind of focal point for spiritual energy. Actually it's not my theory. The Indians believed it too and they were here long before us. And this home is in close proximity to that battlefield. "

    "The first place that I noticed-"

    Beatrice walked slowly past Michael down the hallway into the living room. "I like to go where my natural spiritual radar takes me." Beatrice walked into the kitchen closely followed by Michael. Michael smelled cigarettes and cheap perfume in Beatrice's wake. The kitchen light flickered twice as Beatrice moved towards the basement door. "It's down there isn't it. I sense a presence in this place that needs help dearly, very dearly. We just need to find out how to help this apparition move on so it can have some peace of mind, as well as you have peace of mind Michael."

    "Down there is where I saw her, the ghost I mean. I haven't been down there since."

    "But that is where we must go now. That is where my spiritual radar is recording the strongest readings Michael." Without asking permission, Beatrice opened the basement door. The smell of freshly baked cookies filled the kitchen immediately. "How strange. You have a poltergeist down there who liked to bake. I haven't seen that one before. The strangest ghost I have experienced is one of a man who used to do woodworking and all I smelled in that home was wood shavings. Let us go down so I can make my diagnosis."

    Michael walked ahead of Beatrice down the stairs after turning on the light. Michael held out his hand to guide Beatrice down the last few steps. When they reached the basement floor, they discovered nothing out of the ordinary apart from the baking smell. All the boxes stood at attention on their respective steel shelves.

    Beatrice bent over and placed her palms on her temple. "The feelings are very, very strong down here. She died down here didn't she."

    No s**t. I saw her rotting corpse right over there.

    "Your name was Frances wasn't it. Please make yourself know to the world of the living."

    At that instant, all of the boxes flew off the shelves, turning over in midair to dump their contents all over the floor. The empty cardboard boxes fell onto the floor as well.

    "Whatever do you want Frances? What will it take for you to move on into the light?"

    Michael bent over to put some of the Christmas decorations back in the boxes.

    "Let's go now Michael. I have all the answers I need. Let's talk upstairs."

    Michael left the strewn Christmas decorations and set of screwdrivers on the floor and led Beatrice back into the kitchen. After shutting the basement door, Michael placed the towel once again at the door's base. Beatrice left Michael's side to sit on the living room couch. Michael found Beatrice with Bogey in her lap.

    "Sorry about him. He likes everybody, especially my wife."

    Beatrice pointed to the wedding photo on the wall. "What a lovely wife you have Michael."

    "To be honest we are going through a rough patch right now. I don't know how much longer she will be my wife."

    "That's a shame Michael. Because to alleviate your ghostly presence it helps to have to spouse around for the séance we will need to do."

    "Séance?"

    "Your ghostly presence was named Frances Pine. In my opinion, she would very much like to communicate with a grandson, a grandson named Jacob. And poor Frances died in that very basement."

    "Holy s**t, excuse my language, that's right. My neighbor told me Frances used to bake for her grandson Jacob when he was younger."

    "Frances wants to meet her grandson one more time before she will be able to move into the light."

    "I don't even know where this Jacob is."

    "You need to find him or your ghostly troubles will only get worse. And you also need to get back with your wife. It will take both the rightful owners of this home, in conjunction with Jacob, to rid this place of your poltergeist, and you do have a poltergeist, because Frances is very angry. All she wants is to see her grandson."

    "And how much will this séance cost?"

    "My usual rate is three hundred dollars, but I am having a special this month so I will only charge you two hundred."

    "What if I can't find this Jacob or get my wife back."

    "Then you might as well put this place on the market because it takes the emotions from a strong family structure, namely love, to rid a place of a poltergeist. But I have to go now Michael," Beatrice said, getting up from the couch and walking to the front door.

    Michael followed closely after her. "How am I going to find this Jacob?"

    "f*******:, just like you found me. But you need to get your wife back. That will be your biggest issue. Call me if you have any success," Beatrice said as she opened the door.

    Michael watched Beatrice through the peep hole get into a red Honda Fit, a car just big enough for a four foot eleven woman to get into with ease.

    Michael jogged back to his couch and lay down. He placed his elbows behind his head and stared at his wedding picture. Julia appeared to be staring right back at him. Michael shut his eyes before hearing a knock at his front door. Maybe Beatrice forgot something.

    "Just a minute," Michael yelled on his jog to the front door.

    When he opened the door, a young man, about five foot six, with a black goatee and black hair stood in front of him. The man was dressed in a black suit with a red tie with white dots. The man held a white envelope in his hand that he handed to Michael before saying, "You've been served." The man then jogged back to a blue Ford pickup truck that was still running with the driver's side door opened. The man jumped back in the truck and backed out of Michael's driveway.

    Michael tore open the envelope and pulled out a white sheet of paper. The paper trembled in his hands before he read the words "Divorce Summons." Those two words scared Michael even more that the time he saw the rotting corpse of Frances Pine in his basement.