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"Tessy Dubois"
As the late autumn wind blew through the forests of Adams, two men crossed a decaying bridge across the Sessaqueek River and stepped onto leaf-covered banks. They now stood on the old Dubois estate. A century ago it was the center of the small-town aristocracy, but decades of neglect had removed most of the luster from the property. Except, naturally, for the manor house.
"There it is, Tommy," Jack said, trailing. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
Jack's doubt surprised Tommy; they'd been making these short films for years. Nobody ever minded them using these old houses as sets--they were, after all, abandoned. "What are you talking about?"
It was Jack's turn to look surprised. "Are you telling me that you've never heard the stories about this place?"
"If you're going to tell me it's haunted--" Tommy began, not intending to finish the thought.
"I'm just saying, everybody knows about Tessy Dubois and the fourth floor window."
"Let me guess," said Tommy, turning towards the manor house. "Her parents had arranged for her to marry some fellow she couldn't stomach, so the night before the wedding she jumped through the window to her death. And now her ghost haunts the building and all the poor fools who enter it. Is that right?"
Jack had no answer, because that was the legend to the letter. Sometime in 1912--April and December were the most popular times--Tessy Dubois took her life and her family's hopes to the ground. The momentous decision came not long Mrs. Dubois found her daughter moping in her darkened room. The mother held a candle over Tessy's head, telling her to stop the nonsense and embrace the marriage for her family's sake. An hour later, Tessy was gone.
The family moved out of Adams soon after, and while others wealthy clans bought the property, nobody stayed there longer than two years; the last owners left town in 1957.
Tommy started walking to the mansion, but Jack grabbed his arm. "Dude, you're pushing your luck."
"What luck? Look at the place," he said, motioning to the attic down to the ground floor. "Haunted? Please; Major Amberson himself could have lived here."
Jack was about to say that Miss Havisham also lived in a mansion like this one, but before he could say so Tommy was halfway to the front door with the equipment bag. "Hey, what gives?" he shouted.
Tommy stopped and turned around. "I'm going to set up the set in the foyer. Tell you what, I'll just get the lights all ready and I'll come after you. Show you it's safe." With that, he raced to the front door, ignoring the rest of Jack protestations.
After blowing the cobwebs out of the doorway, Tommy found that the house was even more magnificent than he had imagined. All the furnishings, from the grand staircase to the candelabra beside the entrance, radiated the grandeur yet despair of the late Victorian, early Edwardian era. That the place had clearly not been dusted since the Eisenhower administration made the perfect spot for a horror film; hell, he would consider setting a Dracula adaptation in this foyer.
Tommy stepped further into the room, in awe of his surroundings. How could anyone refuse to live here, he thought. With the striking paintings of the Dubois family framed in gold on every wall, the art collection alone must be a king's ransom. He saw at least a dozen doors leading to Lord knows how many rooms, which in the past were staffed by Lord knows how many servants. It was a testament to good old American materialism. What citizen or filmmaker could resist?
What he found no sign of, though, was Tessy Dubois. He could just imagine what he would tell Jack when he got back out. "You would think that after living so long undisturbed she would just come charging after me. Guess she's a deep sleeper, am I right?" Okay, so he'd have to think of something wittier in the meantime, but the point still stood.
Now Tommy started feeling a bit risky. Why not, he thought: "Hey, Tessy! Yeah, you heard me! Come down here, will you? What, are you scared, too?" He got no response besides his own voice echoing off the walls. Such a beautiful echo, too, particularly high-pitched. He'd have to take advantage of that somehow for the movie. Note to self: buy good recording gear.
Having had his fun, he unzipped the equipment bag, took out a tungsten lamp and tested it. Bright as ever, he saw. Very bright, indeed, given the contrast with the room.
Then, from nowhere, he heard a wail. "Turn that off! Turn that off!"
It was the same exact frequency as the echo he heard before. Only, Tommy knew he didn't say that. And there was no one else in the house. Or was there?
He flipped about and looked up the grand staircase. Quickly descending was a petite shade of a woman, dressed in a white gown and a piercing scowl. "Turn that off! Turn that off!"
Desperately, Tommy tried to push himself up from the floor, but his hands were too shaky to be helpful. With every second Tessy Dubois came closer and closer, sounding more and more violent. "Turn that off!"
Finally, Tommy was somehow back on his feet. Leaving the shining lamp and the equipment bag behind, he barged through the front door and raced down the hill, Tessy's wail still echoing behind him.
Tommy's legs didn't stop once out of the mansion; he just kept on running, right past Jack sitting by the Sessaqueek passing the time. "Run!" Tommy barked as the bridge creaked beneath him. "Run, run!"
Jack just sat there grinning. "I told you so!"
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