Log:This Spooky Old House: Historical Edition, Part 10

This Spooky Old House 2020/09/06 	 Travis Evan

10

Evan gave Travis a call and asked him to come out to the formerly Spooky Old House.

Travis heads out once he gets the call and arrives after taking the maglev. Finding his way when the streets are quiet and mostly empty is a bit tricky, but he navigates his way there with the help of some glimpses into his immediate future to lead the way. He steps across the threshold to the grounds, expecting to sense Night Hound's mind there even though he said he'd be at the cemetery. He continues on to the main house and rings the doorbell.

Travis doesn't sense any minds until he's almost at the house. He then senses Evan inside the house followed by the more ethereal mind of Chalmers after you ring the doorbell.

Chalmers looks at you over his glasses as he opens the door then says as he steps aside, "Didn't Evan give you your key yet? OH, and good to see you again."

Travis chuckles and smiles. "Not yet. I've been busy with practice lately, and other stuff. How's it hanging?" he asks as he steps inside from the summer heat.

The house is pleasantly cool. The faint sound of air moving through vents sounds nothing at all like the rustling of spirits.

Chalmers grins slightly at your phrasing then remarks, "Quite well, thank you, Travis." He then gestures to the new dooron the east wall of the entryway. "I think Evan's still in the library. He's been there for a bit. I;m back to the kitchen. Making some scones."

Without waiting for a reply he steps through the wall in the directoin of the kitchen at the back of the house.

"He put in a library?" Travis smirks. Of course he did. He's a bit surprised that Chalmer can make scones while being a ghost. He can't recall having ever had a scone before, either. He shrugs and goes to find Evan in the library.

Evan sits in one of those overstuffed wingbacked chairs you see in libraries in trids set in the real olden days, like the 1920s or so. There's couple of them scattered arou d the library whose walss have floor to ceiling builtin in shelves filled with books. There's also a couple of desks with really sleep loooking desktop PDAs on them.

Travis' legs are tucked up beside himself in the chair as he looks down at his PDA. He glances up with a tight smile as you come in. "Heya, Travis! Take a seat if ya want." He points to one of those big charis that's catty cornered to his. There's a small table with several emtpy CafPows on it as well as two that at nice and dewy with condesatoin. "Got you a cherry CafPow. Extra syrup." he says pointing to one.

"So this is where you've been hiding out," Travis chuckles as he steps around the chairs with Evan's guidance. He picks up the cherry CafPow and sits down, feeling his way about as he gets settled. "Thanks, bro. Where'd you get all these books?" he asks as he snaps open his drink and takes a sip.

"Eh, they were in storage it seems. Left there by the trust Harrigton set up. They're normal, well, the ones that weren't I put in the basement workroom. So, some of them are out of date. Did you know encylcopedia's used to be made as books? Weirdness," says Evan.

He looks up fromhis PDA. "So, I've researched the histroy of this place with Chalmers help. Wanna know any of it? Or should I just email it to you all?"

Travis gives Evan a funny look at the encyclopedias. "Uhh...why? You can't even search them." He leans back in the chair to get settled in. "I'm sure the others would be fine wth an email, but I'd rather hear it from you," he says in confidence.

Your red headed friend grins slightly. "You just think I've got a better reading voice than your test-to-word program. I can make you an expert system that's better than what you've got if you want."

"I mean, totally. And I wouldn't mind improved sounding programs. The default voices is so...blah," Travis grins. "It just needs to be able to speed up for fast browsing." His phone does sound like a text-to-speech program on fast forward. He's trained to pick it up quicker than sigthed people.

Evan hesistates for a moment then says, "And long term, Travis? I think I can make something sopme for sunglases. A scanner so you can read with them on." He shrugs. "I'm still working out details in my head. Need to find more advanced books on neurology and psionic tech."

Travis's eyebrows pop up over the rims of his sunglasses. "That'd be pretty sweet, actually. I have to rely on someone looking at a page or a menu if I want to read it. Y'know, unless they have something in braille. Even if it just scanned pages and converted it to speech in my earphones or something would be so crash," he grins.

"Well, I'm giong with your sunglasses since you've estazblished you wear them all the damned time. It's your 'thing' that people recognize about you." He sfrugs slightly. "Going a higher tech route than earphones so you can use it in classes. 'Cheating' being bad here."

Travis laughs charmingly at that. "Really? I've been trying not to wear them all the time. Like when working out or on the field."

"Well, yes, not when you're on the field. But when you're at school or just out and about town, you wear them all the time. Well, no, not all the time. Only about 73.4% of the time, but still, enough of it, kay?"

Travis smiles. "You've really been keeping track. Okay, I'll take your word for it."

"It's just a mental trick, Travis. I...ya know, it's boring to explain. I just can't not notice shick and the math is, well, easy for me. So, moving on to the house's history..." He looks down at his PDA holding his notes. "OK, well, first of all, been a house here for like centuries. Not the same house but, hmm, the first cabin on this spot was built by a William Claymore like just a few years after Colonial Bay was founded."

"Wow. Cabin in the woods? Already sounds like a creepy start," Travis grin.

"Well, it was a cabin in the woods since William was a fur trapper. He apparently got along well with the Powhatan Indians who lived here back then. Even married one of them. And, um, according to Chalmers, that's so the burial site here, a Powhatan one, would be protected from other colonists." He glances up. "I don';t suggest we bury any pets here, 'kay? Just in case, 'key?

Travis nods slowly, then perks up a brow. "Did anyone get any other pets? You know KT sometimes equates us with those, too..."

"No...not that I know of. That reminds me: consider getting a pet rat or something. Something you can carry with you. Then, boom, can see through at least one set of eyes. Too bad this isn't a pirate world, we could get you a parrot!" he says with a grin.

Travis chuckles at the idea. "I...think a rat will scare away some of the cheerleaders. Besides, that's what I got you guys for," he flashes a grin.

"Ah, a lizard, a thoroughbred, a cat, and a weasel as pets instead. Got it," murmurs Evan without specifying who is who among the team. He glances down at his notes. "I think the Indian ghost and the owl and bear with him are Powhatan. Not certain though. Makes sense though since they, um, feel older, right? You felt that too, right?"

Travis gets a laugh out of that. He's pretty sure Evan scores himself as a...cat. He has the attitude of one. "Sure. You said it, not me." He sips his drink. "Yeah, they did. Maybe they were from before even Claymore was there."

Evan nods. "Could be. Makes sense." He nods. "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. But, OK, moving on," he murmurs. "Um, nothing really remarkable about the Claymores. Changed from fur trapping to tobacco farming at some point. Kept the land in the family, expanded it a bit. Near as can tell, the property lines now mark the preety close to the first land claimed by William though. Rest's been sold off after time. Land stayed in the direct family line until 1870."

Travis nods and sips as he listens. "Nothing creepy or weird there."

"Last direct Claymore who owned it was Abner Claymore. He inherited it in 1835. Married at the time, had a few kids, but, well, I'll come to that. Seems Abner was quietly an abolitionist but it only came out after his death. Seems the large farmhouse that was here was a depot on the Underground Railroad. Abner and his family stayed out of the fighthing in the Cicil War, but, well, it came to them along with a yellow fever epidemic. By the end of the war, only Abner was left of his direct kin. Only living relative was a step nephew from his younger sister's marriage up in Boston."

"Abolitionist?" asks the jock. Travis isn't too up on history. Especially not this Earth's history.

"People who wanted to abolish slavery that's an abolitionist. That's what the US Civil War was fought over on this Earth, more so than in our United States. At least openly that is. Was still really the issue on our Earth as well, just, well, it's downplayed in history books there. Cateran told me about it an how the teachings changed after World War II on our Earth," says Evan.

Travis nods slowly in understanding. "Ohhh. Right. Gotcha. Knew that." No he didn't.

Your red headed friend looks at you then nods. "Right. I'll send you an audio book or something about it," he murmurs ss he looks down at his notes again. "So, um, Silas Claymore is Abner's stepnephew through Abner's younger brother, John. He married a Boston widow who already had Silas and John adopted him. Silas did well in banking in the Civil War. When Abner dies, Silas inherited the farm and moved down in 1870. Made a fortune in real estate, buying up lands from widows and orphans cheap. Was a real carpetbagger." He holds up a hand. "It'll be in the audio book, what a carpetbagger is. He tears down the farmhouse and outbuildings in 1877 and by fall 1878, the mansion we are in now gets built. And than things start to fo bad for Silas."

"Sounds like a jerk," Travis opines when told he'll learn what a carpetbagger is later. He raises a brow. "Things start going bad? Did he like dig up the Powhatan graveyard to build this place?"

"Don't know, but after he moved in with his wife and 8 kids in 1878 and brought down relatives from his mom's side well to live in other smaller houses on the land...Let's just say the statiscal chances of the accidents, insanity, and deaths including suicides and murders, went way up. Really way up. Silas himself fell into alcoholism, lost most of his fortune, and was committed to an asylum in 1887. He died there babbling of 'lnjun spirits' in 1890."

Travis frowns about that. "So...crazy shick went down before Harrington even did his sick stuff. That's...how are we sure what isn't going to happen to us?"

"I think we'll know. I mean, if it's somehow connected to that old Powhatan spirit, well, he said he's be watching, right? Maybe he's giving us a chance? Also, got to remember none of these Claymores seemed to be metas or magick, right? So, that gives us an advantage." Evan sounds pretty confident.

"I mean, we've got to be a hella lot better tenants than Harrington, right?"

Travis smirks at that. "Totes better. We'd seem like perfect roomies compared to him. Maybe we can communicate with that spirit and see what we got to do to stay on his good side."

"Can't hurt, don't think," remarks Evan. "In any case, Silas' family holds onto to the house all the way past World War II, but lots of tragedies and deaths still happen and drained the family of, well, descendants. The last of the Claymores, Charles Claymore, died in the Korean War at age 23. I think he's the guy in the Army uniform. And I think the old lady in the old dress is his great aunt, Mary Elizabeth, Silas' daugther. She was murdered in 1910 by persons unknown. Had her throat cut, almost no blood left in her according to the newspaper. Found out in the garden."

Travis frowns faintly as he thinks of all those people's fates. He doesn't want that happening to his chosen family. His real family? He'd be happy to lure his father into that. "Wow. So even though he died in Korea, his ghost still haunts this place? Wasn't that old lady ghost ranting about someone?"

"She said, um, 'I'm not leaving until he's dead!' I think. No idea who Mary Elizabeth was talking about though. And yeah, not certain why Charles would be here. Unless, it's cause he's the last Claymore or something? This is out of my skillset," says Evan.

Travis thinks a moment. "I imagine maybe her killer? I imagine anyone she'd want dead has been dead for ages. What about the little girl? Think she's a Claymore?"

Travis adds, "When I managed to talk to her for a little bit, she said she was home. So she must've been one of them."

"Well, that's the thing, she's dressed like before Silas takes over the house. And none of his descendants died as kids. Well, not of mysterious causes or such, a couple from like measles or shick. Could have been one of the earlier Claymore's maybe? But, didn't look into them as much. Plus, fruther back, less info you know, No computer databases way back then just like no indoor plumbing."

"And with Mary Elizabeth? Well, shouldn't her killer be dead by now? I mean, It's been over 150 years," murmurs Evan. "Maybe if we prove He's dead. Whoever He is?"

"If we -can- prove it. I guess we'll see," Travis sighs, thinking on that and the little girl. "Anyway, sorry, I got side tracked. Go on."

"Null sweat, dude," says Evan with a grin. "Let's see...The mansion gets sold a lot between Charles' death and 1992 when Harrington buys it. Lots of complaints of strange noises and weird happenings and the mansion gets a rep of being haunted. Which, go figure, it is. But not enough apparently to get metas involved in, hmm, cleaning it up I guess. Even ends up became a stop on the 'Colonial Bay Supernatural Tour' - America's only coach bus guided tour to haunted and legendary places! accoring to their ad - in the 1980s."

Travis flashes a grin at Evan as he picks at the tab on his soda can. "Reaaaally selling me on this being a good place to live, Evan," he chuckles.

"It's free, it's big, we each get our own room, and we know it's got, hmm, drawbacks," states Evan as he ticks off fingers. "And bonus: we've got a friendly ghost to tell us if things are getting bad spooky, right?"

"Anyways, Harrington takes over, sets his spells, sets more spells, contacts the Verminax who give the house the Escher treatment, he kills Chamlers in April 2000, Chalmers first meets the Night Hound in 2003, the Night Hound keeps others out best he can when he can, Harrington wins awards for his flower gardens claiming 'proprietary gardening technguquyes' for their lush growth even as Golden Sands slowly becoimes a slum around it. Harrington goes even more nuts and kills himself in 2015. No one stays in the house after that due to 'int3ense creepiness' and the fact no on found Harrington's body. Then we skip forward to us. And, that's all I know." He looks up from his PDA at you. "So, questions?"

"OH, and after Harrington's death? Golden Sands starts to pull out of slumminess. And in the 2030s gets lots of really nice houses built in it."

Travis chuckles and nods. "Yeah, a ghost who's making scones. Maybe he can negotiate things with the others for us?" He sits back to listen to the rest, and shudders at the talk of the nice gardens. "Man, Harrington was the worst. Glad he's dead and gone forever."

"I am as well, Travis," says the ghost who was making scones and is now bringing a tray holding them, clotted cream, and jams for them into the library from the open door to the back hallway of the house. "I thought you all might like to try these. Been, well, quite a long time since I baked."

Travis sits up a bit and grins at the smell. "Well, they smell great. Never had scones before. I didn't think you cooked, my dude."

"I don't cook, Travis," says Chalmers as he sets down the tray, his hands not quite touching it, on the small table between the wing backed chairs. "I can bake and can make tea. That is the extent of my culinary skills. And thank you for the complment on them. Dig in while they're hot!"

Evan barely waits before grabbing a scone, spliiting it with a knife and puring clotted cream on it. A look of joy crosses his face as he says with his mouth full, "Liscious"

"Same thing, isn't it?" Travis smiles as he sets down his CafPow. He witnesses how Evan preps the scone, but he doe sit so fast that he's already looking away from the setting. Travis has to feel around a little. He get a scone, fumbles for a knife, but eventually, he manages to prep something for himself and sits back to take a bite. "Mmffrfsssgood."

"No, cooking would mean I know how to successfully naviagte a kitchen to do anything /other/ than bake. I fear my purported brownie ancestry doesn't include any skill outside baking," says Chalmers. "But really, my granny only taught me how to bake. Anthing else was unmanly according to my granther."

"Baking is manly? Okay then," Travis grins after swallowing his bite. "This are amazing. Bake all you want," he laughs.

Chalmers laughs as he says, "When the spirit moves me...But, off to get a headstart on the quarterly taxes." He drifts out of the room.

Travis smirks at Chalmer's comment. "He -is- a spirit, though," he whispers to Evan. "So does that mean he's always moved?"

"I think he was just going for a pun. He likes them. More than me even," says Evan when his mouth is clear again.

Travis winces and consoles himself by taking another bite of his scone.

Travis finishes his bite. "You know those -actually- psychically wound me?"

Evan smiles slightly as he adds, "He calls the tattoo he had on his back to protect his mind and spirit his Stein Niche. Based off an old short story by a guy names Isaac Asimov. It's about a thief who steals a bunch of stuff then uses a time machine to go ahead in time to one day after the statute of limitations runs out. When he caught and tried in court, he argues he's safe since time passed while the prosucutor argues it shuoldn't count. since he just skipped over the time. The judge rules in the end that that is not Stein's problem and the law obviusly needs to be changed, but for now, a niche in time saves Stein."

With a grin, he then murmurs, "I feel for you, dude, I really do."

Travis squints slowly behind his glasses. "That's...my brain...owww..." he rubs his temple for show. "That's a deep pun."

Travis says, "And it rhymes. Owwww...."

Evan nods sagely as he prepares two scones and hands one to you. "Yeah, I read some of his stuff, Asimov's that is. Really smart guy, came up with something called the Three Law of Robotics, wrote tons of science papers as well as science fiction. Don't think he existed in our Earth or never got famous in any case."

He adds, "Niche in time saves Stein is a spoonerism on a stitch in time saves nine which is an old proverb meaning if you sort out a problem immediately it may save a lot of extra work later. Like I say, smart guy."

Evan murmurs, "But I figure you know that last part. Sorry, got into little professor mode there as Cateran would say."

Travis finishes his scone an takes the next. "Spoonerism? You forget, man, I'm just a jock," he grins. "I figure he was a smart guy. Especially if you're the one saying he is."

Evan starts to open his mouth then shuts it before saying, "Yeah, about that, Travis? You're not half as dumb as you make out. I know it, you know it, and I'll not share it with your teachers." He grins as he fixes up another scone.

Travis grins at Evan's comment. "Then why are my grades average, my dude?" he chuckles.

"Because you don't really care about 'em? If you get into a college it'll be on a sports scholarship. I mean, you ain't a genius, but you're brigther than average, dude. You'd have to be with your parents."

Travis's smile fades at the mention of his parents. "My father wasn't smart. Just ruthless. He recruited smarter men to do this thinking for him. Maybe my mother was. She was smart enough to run away."

"The bastard who's your father is smarter than the average wannabe dictator. And stronger willed. And you mother was too. NOt that I know much about her. Cateran liked her though. Don't know if that means anything. And yeah, Cateran thought your mother was smarter than him." He shrugs. "Eat your scone. Sorry to rile you up."

"I'm not surprised Cateran liked Chatoyant. Mom was nice. Until, y'know, she left me with my Father," Travis says quietly. He decides to just do as he's told and eat his scone, letting some of those memories simmer.

"Cateran always wondered about that, Travis. Never seemed to fit for her. But, well, she only talked about anything emotional when she was drunk, so who knows," Evan muses. "Never mind, just trying not to think about this place and rambling. Ignore me, please."

Travis rolls his shoulder and nods. "I didn't think she would, either, for that it's worth." He sighs and drops it, taking a bite of his scone. "Maybe this place will feel better when it's got the whole fam here."

"It will. It's a bit big for one person. Oh, and I think the third floor should be the guy floor. Let the gals have the second floor. And um, they didn't take the big bed out of the pool room. But they did, um, tone down the carvings on it."

"They being the Verminax that is."

Travis winces. "With that gross mattress with the rotten body that was on it for how long? You just want us to have it because it's too creepy for the girls, don't you?"

"Oh the mattress was changed as well. Yeah, cause, um, yeah, gross dead guy on it for decades, yeesh," says Evan. "And no, I want us to hvae it 'cause it's freaking huge, dude. There's one room up there with a freaking forest in it! And one of the bedrroms is a suite with bedroom, sitting room, /and/ a bathroom with a tub big enough for a squad! Not that, well, we can bring any norms to the third floor. Cause, well, you've seen two of the rooms in it, no way it fits in the house from outiside."

"No way I'm taking that bed," Travis says firmly. He smiles at Evan's true motivations. "I'll take the suite, then," he laughs, not too serious.

"OK, I mark it as yours then. After all, the house is in your fictional father's name. Well, technically all of our fictional parent's names except mine. It's held in trust since our parents are all 'contractors' for the US government. What sort of contractors is left intentionally bague. Let people think that they're some sort of off the books troubleshooters or seomthing. Which is what they're supposed to be. But, your 'dad' is the main 'name' on the trust for legal reasons. But Mr. Chalmers Smythe-Reese is the trustee of it and technically us all now." He grins. "Chalmers knowledge of finnacial shick and Summer, mine, and Tyson skills with forgery have it pretty iron proof."

"Right, Michael Morgan, my dear old pops. Thanks for that, KT," Travis chuckles. He leans back and gestures with his scone. "We set ourselves up pretty well with his knowledge and your guys' skills. I wonder what else we could set up to make us comfortable here," he chuckles. "Though let's hope no one asks to meet Mr. Chalmers Smythe-Reese in person. Though I suppose KT can handle that, too. So long as he and our parents are never needed in the same meetup."

"Well, it seems Chalmers can make himself look solid, but, well, it's really draining so he can do it for super long. Half hour at most and then he has to, well, fade away for a while," Evan murmurs.

"Oh? Is that how he's able to bake and touch physical stuff?" Travis realizes.

"No, that seems to just part and parcel of being a ghost. Poltergeist stuff. Ghostly TK, I don't know." He gestures towards the kitchen. Otherwize, unless he, hmm, concentrates on it, he's all translucent, but not in any way solid. Even if he looks solid, he's not.

"Otherwize, unless he, hmm, concentrates on it, he's all translucent, but not in any way solid. Even if he looks solid, he's can't be solid to touch it seems. I think cause, well, he's just can't being a ghost. Not sure though."

Travis nods slowly and tries to follow along. "Pos. I think I follow."

"And if he gets really, uhm, tired, he starts to look like he did at his moment of death. Like when you first saw him."

Travis winces. "Yikes. That's...interesting. And creepy. Guess what's why he looks mostly normal. I guess. As far as ghosts go."

"I think he's got more control given he's kinda in control of his 'death'. With the spell that protected his mind and spirit that is," Evan muses. He then shrugs. "But, again, not an expert. And turns out, neither is Chalmers. Stuff with ghosts wasn't what he studided magically."

"What -did- he study, exactly? In layman's terms," Travis chuckles.

"Chalmers studied Hermetic thaumaturgy...basically Western mysticism with magic circles, diagrams, that sort of thing. He was never, hmm, metahuman powerful. Skilled, knowledgeable but not combat oriented."

Travis nods slowly. Most of that doesn't mean much to him. "Riiight. Gotcha."

Evan smiles. "OK, you know how in trid games, mages draw circles and chant for a long time and then something magick happens? They consult books and all that? That's Hermetic thaumaturgy. It's knowledge based and kinda like math tricks to tweak reality but not real quick at all like, well, what I do."

"Oh. Okay, yeah. I get it," Travis laughs as Evan speaks in terms he can understand.