Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2004 16:11:44 -0700
From: Lael Stalnaker <lael_stalnaker@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Memories of Hillside Mansion

This is a story that actually is part of a CS challenge.
The object was to build a story around a section of text
supplied by the Challenge moderator and merge it with
your own work. This is the result. The entire first section
with the exception of the very first sentence, are the
supplied text from the Challenge. My original stuff follows
directly after and I only use a small portion again later in
the story as needed. I am looking for feedback before I
submit it. Any flaws or loose ends I might have missed would
be appreciated. Email me at Lael_stalnaker@hotmail.com with
any comments. Thanks in advance for those that do.

P.S. Oh yeah, ignore any errors in the first section between the
first set of "***"'s, I am fortunately not responsible for any spelling,
punctuation or grammar errors there, only for what follows!


The Memories of Hillside Mansion
By Lael Stalnaker

***

... A sudden gust of breeze flapped the curtains, though the French doors to
the balcony were intact and solidly closed. The chill suddenly reasserted
itself. Jim buttoned his flannel shirt back up.

The hallway led to yet another windowless room. No telling whether they'd at
least gotten back to the ground floor, but Chris doubted it. The old mansion
seemed even bigger on the inside than it had looked from outside.

"Maybe we should go back the way we came in," Chris suggested nervously.

"We'll never find Terry that way," Jim said.

"By now Terry could be outside waiting for us, for all we know."

"Hey, look! This might be that door that was blocked from the other side."
Jim muscled a heavy-looking dresser out of the way single-handedly and
opened the door that it had stood against. Behind it was an unfamiliar dark
corridor filled with cobwebs. The hall was so long that their flashlight
beams were swallowed up in the inky darkness. "This looks promising," he
said.

"Only if 'promising' is another word for 'creepy,'" Chris retorted.

"It's got to lead to a stairway, or at least a room where we can look out a
window. The house can't go on forever."

"Come on," Chris pleaded. "Let's retrace our steps."

"No. I'm not leaving Terry in this place. You go back if you want to."

"OK, I will." Chris stalked out, heading back the way it appeared they had
come in. The next room, though, had a huge portrait on the wall that they
certainly hadn't passed on the way in. Puzzled, Chris returned to the room
with the dresser, and called Jim's name into the long creepy corridor. No
response. Chris was getting really scared now, realizing that it had been a
mistake to have split up.

Reluctantly, Chris started down the cobweb-filled hallway. There were doors
on either side, but the first twelve of them were locked. The thirteenth one
opened. Chris shone a flashlight around the unfurnished room, and the beam
swept over something red on the floor. It was Jim's shirt, lying discarded
in the dust. Strange! Why would he take off his shirt in this place? It was
more chilly than ever.

Again, Chris called Jim's name, and still got no response. The room had
another door, and Chris went through it, wondering why Jim was closing doors
behind him.

Jim's shoes had been abandoned in the next room. They were sticking out from
under some sheet-draped furniture. Chris checked under the sheet, finding
only yet another rocking chair.

This room's other door led out into a short hallway, in which Chris found
Jim's socks. The hall led to another room, this one containing a
sheet-shrouded harpsichord with Jim's pants draped over the sheet. This was
getting really weird. Jim couldn't possibly want to explore a chilly old
house wearing nothing but his undershorts.

Of course, that assumed that he'd taken his clothes off voluntarily.

Chris searched several more rooms, finding neither hide nor hair of Jim.
Calling his name still didn't work. Nor was there any sign of a way out. One
of the rooms had a stained-glass window, but it apparently looked into the
next room, not outside.

Finally, in a room with a trapdoor in the floor, Chris found pair of boxer
shorts hanging from a nail in the wall. Would Jim really wear bright blue
boxer shorts with a pattern of little hearts? Chris
couldn't imagine that -- but also couldn't imagine Jim taking off his
clothes in this place.

Suddenly, there was a soft moan. It was coming from beneath the trapdoor...

***

Terry put down the manuscript in disbelief. It now lay open on his chest as
he considered what he wanted to say. His eyes were narrowed in thought and
his brow furrowed. Plainly annoyed, he finally flipped shut the pages and
tossed the thick binder onto the bed next to him.

"James!" Terry yelled as he got off the bed.

"What?" Jim's muffled voice came from another room in the apartment.

"I can't believe you wrote this! Why?" growled Terry as he lumbered through
to the room where Jim sat at his computer.

"What? What do you mean?" asked Jim, astonished.

"How could you write about what happened that day? Of all the things in the
world to write about, you pick that? I mean it was a great prank and all,
but come on!"

"Terrence, just calm down. Is it really that big a deal? It was years ago.
It's not like anyone is really going to know what really happened. I'm
writing fiction, remember? How much did you read anyway before you came
charging in?" Jim was amused.

"James, I got to just before Chris finds us, but that is not the point..." his
voice trailed off as a new suspicion dawned. "You didn't!"

"Guess you won't know until you finish reading it, will you?" Jim's voice
broke up in laughter as he watched Terry race back to his bedroom. He
chuckled some more as he turned back to the computer. Soon he began typing
again knowing that more interruptions were to come. Best to get his thoughts
down while he could or he would likely lose them.

Terry didn't know what to think at this point. He couldn't believe that Jim,
Jim of all people, was writing about that mansion after all these years. The
nightmares still haunted his sleep on a rare basis and they always had him
waking in a sweat when they resurfaced. That damn place had done strange
things to them all. Things had happened that he really wanted left in the
past. But Jim was not going to let them stay comfortably put away.

He reached the bedroom and threw himself on the bed. Wrought iron squeaked
as his weight was absorbed by the frame. The manuscript lay as he had left
it, closed face down. It seemed to mock him as he just stared at it. Surely
Jim had not just written out the events of that time and tried to pass it
off as fiction. Too many people had been involved in the aftermath. They
would be able to figure out what had gone on and that truly terrified him.
Though certain aspects of the events at Hillside Mansion didn't bother him
at all, plenty about it did. And none of it was anyone else's business.

Part of his concern was how the story so far was identical to the past. That
did not bode well for the rest as far as he was concerned. Pausing in his
nearly irrational brooding, Terry picked up the offending story and flipped
through sections he had already read.

***
...are you kidding me?" Chris asked incredulously.

"Nope, not at all. Let's going camping for a couple of weeks. Graduation is
done and over with, summer is here and we're all going to different colleges
in the fall. We may never have another chance to be together and just goof
off. Camping has never bothered you before, so what's the big deal?"
reasoned Jim.

The three were sitting in Jim's parent's backyard. They frequently rotated
where they wound up, often during the course of a day. The deep green grass
had just been freshly mowed and the guys were sitting around trying to
decide what to do for the summer. The chairs were old wooden ones that
hadn't seen a coat of sealant in years. They had weathered to a silvery grey
now and Jim's father planned on making new ones this weekend.

"But why over by Hillside Mansion? That place gives me the creeps. I still
haven't forgotten those damn stories you two always told me on Halloween
when we were kids."

"Oh come on, Chris! You know that those are just stories, don't you? Yeah,
we were trying to scare you, but you don't really think that it's haunted,
do you?" Terry tossed in.

Chris blushed to the roots of his dark brown hair. Easy to see, since it was
crew cut and spiked up to boot. His fair complexion would never make it easy
to hide embarrassment. He squirmed uncomfortably on the lawn chair as he
struggled to get himself under control.

"No, of course not!" he said through gritted teeth as he looked down at his
sneakers. Since he was looking down, he missed the looks and grins that
passed between his two best friends.

"Look, we're not gonna be at the actual mansion. The woods surround the
place for miles. We picked there so that no one would be around. You know
how most of the official camp grounds around here are jammed all summer.
With the reputation that place has, no one will be there and we can relax,
party, do whatever we want without having to worry about anyone else getting
offended, or telling us to keep it down or shit," said Jim.

"Right and I got my old man to give us a couple of cases of beer too! He
made me promise that we wouldn't drive under the influence though. Kinda an
informal group graduation present he said. So, what do ya say? Are you in?"
pressured Terry. "It wouldn't be the same without ya, dude."

Chris looked up and saw that they were sincere. They really wanted him to go
and how could he say no to the two guys he had known the longest outside of
his family? The guys that had always defended him from the jocks and
bullies, since he was so small in comparison. This last year he had finally
caught up with them size wise, but he was still cautious by nature, not
fully past his need to keep out of fights or other hazardous situations
instilled by his size and frame.

He smiled as he finally made up his mind and nodded yes. Jim and Terry
whooped and sprang up from their seats. Like a tidal wave, they threw
themselves on Chris and hugged him until he could barely breathe. The lawn
chair creaked and groaned in protest before finally just giving up. The
chair collapsed and the guys all tumbled to the ground laughing.

"So, when are we going?" asked Chris once he got his breath back.

"Next...

***
Terry remembered planning the trip with Jim. They liked to tease Chris about
the mansion ever since they found out how afraid he was of it. Not that they
were trying to be cruel or sadistic, it was just that they couldn't accept
that Chris really believed the stuff even now, rather back then. It seemed
like a harmless enough joke to play on him.

Not only that, but the three constantly played practical jokes on each
other, singly or paired. The last major one had pitted Chris and Jim against
Terry. This time the target was Chris. Mischievous by nature, the trio
thrived on their nonstop pranks. Even now, so many years later, that pattern
still held true.

Shaking off the memory, Terry flipped some pages. The words drew him back
again. That summer once more revived itself from the printed page.

***
...

"Was this not a totally awesome idea or what?" Terry enthused.

"Damn right!" chorused Chris and Jim, clinking their beer bottles together
and then with Terry's.

They were seated in front of a good sized campfire that snapped and crackled
merrily. The woods around them were some of the last old growth left in the
area. Huge trunks flickered in the moving light and the sky was mostly
blocked by the vast canopy above. At their backs were the car and the huge 4
man tent they had been in for a week now.

"What do ya say we go over and have a look at Hillside Mansion?" asked Terry
innocently as he swigged the last of the beer from his bottle. The innocence
was as false as the spontaneity of the question.

"Hey, that's a bitchin' idea!" agreed Jim. Since he was in on the plot to
mess with Chris, he had just been waiting for the right time to bring it up
himself if Terry didn't.

"What the fuck?" yelped Chris incredulously.

"Let's go over right now! It would be cool to see it at night," said Jim.

"No frickin' way dude. Not in the dark. We don't have enough flashlights, we
don't know what condition the house is in, and how much do you..."

"Ok, ok!" interrupted Terry. "We'll wait for daylight then."

"I don't know," grumbled Chris.

"Well, let's just go look. We can decide then if we are going in."

"Yeah, Chris, come on, don't be a wuss!" added Jim.

"Fine!" Chris said unhappily.

"This'll be awesome, you'll...

***
Getting Chris to agree to go see the house had felt like such a triumph.
Terry had been so proud of Chris for actually confronting his fears.  He was
glad they hadn't decided to go that night. Terry shuddered at the thought of
what might have happened during a night prowl through those deserted
corridors.

Shaking his head at their dumb luck, he flipped some more pages. Terry felt
more and more uneasy as he read on. Memory and word flew hand in hand. The
description of the house chilled him. He had never realized how completely
Jim could describe things. What he read matched exactly what he remembered
himself.

***
...

They had no trouble getting there, the fencing being utterly trounced by
time itself. Even the iron gate at the entrance to the driveway was an
incomplete barrier to intruders these days. With one side off its hinges,
they walked in with ease. The woods outside the fence line looked as though
they were leaning away from the house. From that vantage, the house loomed
up over them, brooding and dark despite the light of day illuminating its
walls. Their footsteps made a grinding noise in the gravel as they warily
approached.

The three stood in the shadow of Hillside Mansion dumbfounded. The building
was huge, sprawling in three directions with multiple stories at different
places. There was a wing off to each side of the main structure. The
architecture seemed a mishmash of different styles that ended up being
somehow integrated yet wildly disturbing. Huge marble columns flanked the
wide oaken double doors. Five steps, an oval cascade in marble also led up
to the mammoth doors. The windows all seemed to have different shapes, so
that there was no continuity about the exterior. Balconies were scattered at
odd intervals and from different floors.

Chimneys poked up through the roof at various random points and gabled
windows threw their points out over the ledges of some of the balconies.
Eerily, none of the windows were broken. The roof was slate, uncommon as
that was in these parts. An honest to God tower was attached to the back of
the main building. Age rolled off the mansion like the onward march of time.

The grounds immediately around the house showed signs of once being sculpted
into a formal garden. Now the shrubs were nearly trees, or dead outright.
The flowerbeds were a wild wilderness of weeds, grasses and the remnants of
perennial flowers. The gravel of the drive was well and liberally in
disrepair from plant life pushing its way through. To one side, a stable
stood, though not in anywhere near as good a condition as the house. An iron
hand pump stood sentinel next to a stone trough nearby.

Only after standing in awe for a few moments did they notice that it was
entirely silent. The life noise of the woods was not in evidence at all
here. No crickets chirped, no birds sang, no rustling of deer, rabbits or
squirrels anywhere near. Not even a breeze to rustle the plants or sing
through the branches of the few skeletal dead trees within the fence line.

To the best that any of them knew, no one had lived here in over
seventy-four years. Rumor had it that even the family that still owned it
refused to speak of it. Some scandal had brought ruin down on them here and
they didn't even like to admit that the place even existed, even after so
many years past. Despite the obvious neglect of the outside, the house
itself appeared to be in good shape. The stone and mortar edifice was
unmarred though dirty with the weather and years.

"Wha... why is it called Hillside? It's not even on a hill," asked Chris after
choking his way past the lump in his throat.

"I think it was the family's name," answered Jim in a hushed tone.

"Oh."

"So are we going in or what?" asked Terry as he eyed the place. He was
having second thoughts about the whole idea now that they were actually
here. The sinister ambience of the place was like standing knee deep in
freezing water. Chills were going up and down his back. But he didn't want
to be the first to chicken out either.

"No fuckin' way!" Chris said in disbelief.

"Sure, why not?" retorted Terry with a shaky grin.

"It doesn't feel right. This place is just wrong," rebutted Chris with some
heat in his voice. His eyes were wide with fear now.

"I don't know, Terry, maybe this isn't such a hot idea," offered Jim, hoping
to give them all an out without drawing into question their collective
courage.

"Yeah, let's just go, ok? `Sides, we don't know if the place is ready to
collapse in there, ya know?" stammered Chris.

"I'm going in, with or without you two," stated Terry. He had suddenly
decided that he really wanted to know what it was like on the inside.

"What?!" yelled the other two.

"Yeah, I want to see the place. We probably won't ever come back here, so it
is now or never. Look, if you guys don't want to, it's ok, really. Give me
an hour and then we'll go."

"Are you crazy?" demanded Jim

"What if you get lost in there, the place is humongous?" asked Chris
simultaneously.

"Jesus guys! Look, I will play it safe. I just want to see what it looks
like on the inside. I won't get lost, ok? I'll come back in an hour. We all
have watches, so there's no reason to get all bent out of shape, ok?"
reasoned Terry, his earlier misgivings fading to nothing with his excitement
over exploring.

"Fine, you pig-headed turkey. Just make sure it's only an hour. I agree with
Chris this time, this place is wrong," groused Jim.

They looked at their watches and agreed to start the hour. Terry walked up
to the wide double doors and tried the handles. He half hoped that they
would be locked and that would settle the matter right then and there.
Instead, the latch clicked loudly and one door swing inward half an inch.
Terry looked back, smiled bravely and pushed the door open. The shriek of
the neglected hinges sounded like the wailing of a banshee right out of
hell. Shivers went down the back of all three spines.

"Ok, guys, I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere!"

"Just make sure you keep it to an hour Terry," said Jim as he sat himself on
the bottom step at the foot of the doors. Chris sat down next to him and
leaned against Jim. He wasn't ashamed in the least to seek the comfort of
another warm human body in the face of the chill surroundings.

"I will," called Terry just before he stepped inside. The gloom swallowed
him and then the door slowly swung shut. They all heard the latch catch and
got another chill. Jim and Chris glanced back up at the doors and then
looked at each other. They could hear Terry's footsteps faintly...

***

Another thought struck Terry mid-sentence. He looked up and frowned.
Memories of the past streamed by in his mind. Determined to find out if his
latest suspicion was true, he set aside the story again, though leaving it
open this time. Terry slid off the bed, whose comforter was showing signs of
sliding right off if he kept it up. He trudged back to Jim's room slowly,
hoping that the insanity hadn't gone far. Jim looked up as Terry came to a
stop at the door.

"Did you talk to Chris about this story?" asked Terry quietly.

"Yes."

"And?" demanded Terry.

"Well, he was all for it. So much so, he gave me his perspective on all of
it to make sure I got it right. He wants a copy once it's done."

"What?" yelped Terry in disbelief.

"That's right. It didn't bother him the way it does you. Me either, for that
matter. We still don't know why you're all hung up on it," Jim said calmly.

Terry spluttered, his tongue tangled with all that he wanted to say at the
same time. His suspicion was now confirmed. Chris and Jim both were in on
this ridiculous idea. Visions of town gossips vigorously wagging their
tongues over this if it was ever published ran through his head. While Chris
and Jim never went back home, he did. He didn't even want to think about
what the reaction would be once the details, supposedly fiction or not, got
around.

Sagging into the doorjamb, Terry just stared at Jim. Seeing how confused and
upset he was, Jim got up and took him in his arms. He just held Terry until
he felt the tension leave the muscles within his clasp. He was startled to
hear labored breathing near his ear, this from Terry who never cried. It
dawned on Jim that maybe that was exactly the problem. Terry bottled things
up and never really let them out.

"Look, let's sit down and talk this out, bud, ok?" Jim pulled Terry over to
his bed and sat him down. Terry made no protest, just sitting there with
tears streaming down his face unabashedly.

"What bothers you so much? Huh?" prodded Jim gently. Terry didn't answer for
a long moment, his mind caught up in the past again.

"Ffff..." mumbled Terry.

"The fire? What about it?" asked Jim though the answer was beginning to come
to him already.

"We almost died, all of us."

"But we didn't Terry, we're here now. We got out, you, me and Chris. We all
made it out ok. We survived," Jim was sure now about what was wrong. Their
brush with death was still living in Terry's mind, still potent and deadly
after all these years since their reality.

"I know that!" protested Terry.

"So why does it still bother you then?"

"I don't know!" shouted Terry.

"Does it have anything to do with how we tricked Chris into the house?"

"I almost got us all killed. It was my idea to go into that damned place!"
sobbed Terry.

"Terrence! Stop! It's not your fault. We could have said no. We chose for
ourselves. Stop!" Jim was becoming alarmed now. "This is about guilt isn't
it?"

"I don't... I... yeah," whispered Terry. Jim nodded to himself in understanding.
The three had never fully talked about all of the aspects of what had
happened. Bits and pieces, but never every single detail or in any kind of
order. This story was bringing Terry face to face with guilt that none of
them had known about. Chris and Jim had turned out to be more emotionally
resilient then Terry. The past held no guilt for them.

"It's gone and over, Terry. Don't hang onto it any more. Haven't we always
stuck by you? Has either of us ever said anything that would make you think
we blame you for what happened? We don't, believe me! It was out of our
control the minute we set foot in there. There was no way any of us could
know what was going to happen. No way at all, got me?" reassured Jim.

"But I..."

"No! Stop that! It is not anyone's fault. Yes, things happened. But nothing
so terrible that you should be tearing yourself up over it now. Or then for
that matter. Just let it go," Jim said softly. He pulled Terry back into his
arms and rocked him a little in his embrace. Deep dry rasping sobs were
jolting Terry now. Jim hoped that maybe this cry would purge Terry and let
him let go of the past. Especially since every word he was saying was the
pure untainted truth.

"Terry, Terrence, Terry..." murmured Jim with a sigh after a few minutes
passed. The horrible body jerking sounds had stopped and Jim could feel
Terry sagging against him.

"I'm ok Jim," said Terry. His eyes were red as hell now and hurting, though
they had not actually released any tears.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. It has always bothered me. I couldn't bring myself to talk
about it. Every time I came close, you guys always had gone onto something
else. I didn't know how to explain what I felt. Still don't. It was like it
was me and wasn't. Like a left over bad taste," explained Terry.

"I wish you had said something. Maybe we could have helped."

"I don't know."

"Maybe you shouldn't read any more of it. I would have liked your input and
perspective, but not if it is going to tear you up all over again. It's just
not that important," said Jim thoughtfully.

"No, I think I should just go ahead and read it. Maybe it will purge the
ghosts still in my head."

Jim's face went ashen at those words. For the first time he began to truly
understand what was possibly bothering Terry. And now he was afraid. Doubts
flared and he wondered if that mansion was really done and over with after
all. He was speechless as Terry got up and went back to his own room. He sat
motionless for a long time after.

Terry stood in the doorway to his room and just stared at the open
manuscript. It held a strong fascination and horror for him. Fear after fear
trampled through his thoughts. People would think they were crazy. The
thought made him cringe. He couldn't even decide which thing would be
considered worst.

Sighing deeply, he forced him self into his room. Willing his fingers to
unclench, he sat back on the bed. The iron poles at the four corners of the
frame shuddered in time with his trembling. Finally past the point of fear
having any meaning, he found himself in an emotionally neutral place. He
picked up the manuscript and flipped to where he originally left off.

***
...in a room with a trapdoor in the floor, Chris found pair of boxer shorts
hanging from a nail in the wall. Would Jim really wear bright blue boxer
shorts with a pattern of little hearts? Chris
couldn't imagine that -- but also couldn't imagine Jim taking off his
clothes in this place.

Suddenly, there was a soft moan. It was coming from beneath the trapdoor.
Chris swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped nearer the opening in the
floor. Setting down the clothes he had collected from the other rooms as he
passed through, he took down the boxers from the nail. Without thinking he
brought them to his nose and sniffed. He could smell Jim's scent, though
faint, kind of a mixture of stale sweat and an odd musky odor. Chris was
startled to realize he even knew what Jim smelled like. They certainly
didn't belong to some previous tenant of the mansion. Any odor would have
long since dissipated by the time they came along.

Placing the boxers on top of the pile, Chris approached the trapdoor, his
heart pounding wildly. Another moan drifted up from the space below. He
paused and then had a thought. Jim was messing with his head! That had to be
it. Jim knew this place freaked him out and was trying to scare him even
more. A surge of adrenaline gushed into his already taxed system.

Grimacing, Chris grabbed the ring handle of the trapdoor out of its recess
in the floor. He hauled up and nearly blew all the breath out of his body at
the sudden weight. It was far heavier than he had imagined. The moaning
below continued though was clearer now. It was definitely male.

Chris nodded to himself and looked at what he had uncovered. A wooden runged
ladder led down into the semi-darkness. With the latest rush of hormones
roaring through his body, Chris found himself able to consider going down
there. Besides, Jim might need his clothes. Shaking his head, Chris gathered
up the pile and stuffed them into his own shirt. It bulged out, making him
look like a kid playing at being pregnant, but he knew he would need both
hands to get down there.

He squatted next to the edge where the ladder began and carefully started
down. Another moan caused him to nearly lose his grip, what with its
suddenness and intensity. Gritting his teeth and thinking of what he was
going to say to Jim and Terry about this whole mess, Chris continued down
the ladder. It seemed to go down further than was possible. The highest
story of the house couldn't be more than fifty feet from the ground, but he
was sure he had gone at least half that again before he hit bottom.

Looking around he couldn't see any difference from anywhere else in the
house he had been. Well, almost. There were no windows along this hallway
and the light was piss poor. That seemed to be coming from a room a hundred
feet further up from the ladder. The flickering soft glow was surely from a
flame. Puzzled, Chris started toward the room. He knew none of them had
brought any kind of matches, lighters or any other means of starting a fire.

Yet another moan, low and deep, wafted through the close air. Chris could
tell it was Jim now. But the tone and quality of it really didn't make sense
at all! It sounded... well, sexual. At least it sounded kind of like one of
the tapes he had snuck from his dad's porn stash a couple of years back. But
that didn't make sense! Why on earth would Jim be having sex here?! And with
who?

Chris hurried down the hall and entered the room at a sprint. Three
hurricane lamps lit the huge area and innumerable candles gave their
flickering illumination too. Swags of cloth draped from the walls and
ceiling swayed in the light, though in reality didn't move. Cushions,
pillows, divans and low padded pallets were scatter all around the huge
room. It looked like some scene out of a Middle Eastern fantasy.

His eyes adjusted to the light difference and then what he saw caused his
jaw to fall open in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. Jim was certainly here.
So was Terry. Terry didn't have any clothes on either. He was also kissing
Jim's body all over. Chris felt a blush flood through his face and neck.

"What on earth are you two doing??" asked Chris as he moved closer.

The door slammed shut behind him once he was fully in the room. Chris jumped
and half turned back to look. A faint iridescent shimmer briefly glimmered,
or so he thought. He turned back to his two friends to ask them again what
the hell was going on. Jim was now licking Terry's chest while his hands
were roaming, especially on Terry's groin. Chris found himself speechless
with the shock.

He stiffened as a coldness pressed against his back. Spinning around, Chris
found himself face to face with a shimmering outline of a person. It stepped
forward again and overlapped itself with Chris. A chill spread from the
points of contact and he found himself having severe vertigo. His thoughts
jumbled as he cried out from fear.

His mind became detached and Chris realized he wasn't alone in his head.
Someone's thoughts were right there with his. The alien presence paused a
moment and then completed the joining between them. Chris blinked and then
lost track of who was who.

Chris/David observed the two making love for a few seconds. Finally, he
could touch and live again. He had been jealous of his lovers, Katherine and
Michael that they had found bodies while he had not. Really, it was rather
indecent of them to have begun without him. Chris/David moved closer and
then began to undress. The clothes fell away without notice, both sets.

Jim/Katherine and Terry/Michael finally paused long enough to see that their
missing lover was finally able to join them. Their spirits were firmly
meshed with that of their hosts. David knew that their time was limited, so
the most must be made of it. Pausing to quickly scan through the memories of
this body, he was pleased to find that Chris was already aware of his own
preferences and that this experience would not be against them.

Chris, now that he was mostly an observer within his own mind, found himself
attracted to what he was witnessing.  Because of what was happening to him,
he could guess what had happened to his friends. They too were possessed by
ghosts. Memories from the invading entity trickled back to him, just as his
own did to it.

David, Katherine and Michael had all be lovers at the same time, a trio, one
hundred and twenty years before. Their love had been equal with no party
feeling that they were slighted in affections of the others despite the
extra person. Unfortunately, they had been found out by David's father, who
found them in the midst of the sexual tangle. In a rage, he killed the three
and swore that no one would ever find out the shameful secret.

The last time they had found a way to come together once more, it resulted
in quite the scandal of the day. The family recognized that spirits had
caused the debacle. They abandoned the mansion, refusing to allow anyone to
set foot in it again. Thus, seventy-odd more years passed without release
for their desires.

One thing they had decided was a vow to never use a child or another who was
unwilling to experience what they did. So, if Chris or Terry or Jim had not
had leanings or real desire for sexual contact, especially with the same
sex, then the occupying usurper would regretfully have vacated. Fortunately,
Katherine did not mind what sex the body was.

Chris found himself sharing everything that was thought by David. Their
consciousness blurred further, melding into a new being. Surprised, Chris
also found himself in charge of his body. He assumed that the same would be
for Terry and Jim. He walked to them and lowered himself to their level.

Terry leaned over and kissed Chris on the mouth. His tongue lightly probed
until Chris opened his mouth. Jim ran his hands over Chris, savoring the
feel of muscle beneath velvet skin. All three bodies were at their peak and
the height of attractiveness. Jim's tanned blond was a direct contrast to
the pale brown haired Chris. Terry's hair was a deeper brown than Chris had,
but he was far from pale with a tan that matched Jim's. Their height was
near enough the same to keep them at eye level when standing.

The only real difference was in their equipment. All three were circumcised
(which the ghosts found odd) though Chris was thicker than the other two,
while Terry's had a distinct upward curve to his. Jim's scrotum was
hairless, unlike Terry and Chris. None of the three had anything to be
ashamed of concerning their endowment. Nor with their physique in general.

Chris let him self be drawn into the erotic play that was unfolding. With
the shadow of a mind subtly directing him, he let his moves be
choreographed. His initial fears melted away and he became completely
immersed in the moment. His deepest, most secret longings were actually
taking place. Looking into first Terry's eyes and then Jim's, he knew that
this was the same for them. None of them had ever had the courage to act
much less voice this hidden desire they all seemed to share.

Chris flicked out his tongue and licked the salty sweat from Jim's forehead.
Terry, his hands in constant motion over both his friends' bodies kissed his
way down Jim's body until he reached his goal. He licked the undershaft and
then slid his mouth over the scrotum. Chris meanwhile shifted his position
so that he could get at Terry comfortably. The three then went with what was
natural to their positioning. Warm moist mouths enfolded silken hardnesses
simultaneously.


Time flickered in and out for them. Their awareness of it came in jolts and
skips. Passion rose and fell and rose again. Who did what shifted from
moment to moment, so that all did everything their hearts desired. The final
moment of ecstasy for Chris was something that would remain with him
forever.

His hips thrust forward and back at a feverish pace. Hot tightness
surrounded his shaft, while his pubic hair rasped against tender skin with
each impact. At the same time, his timing was determined by the rod impaling
him. The slamming of his backside thrust him ever more deeply into Jim. Each
explosive collision raked over his prostate and sent shockwaves of pleasure
outward from the contact. His inner muscles would clench each time,
heightening Terry's experience.

Jim was in bliss, with Chris stroking him in time with his rapid rhythm. He
loved the hardness within him and the feeling of clashing bodies. His back
arched, he let one hand drift back to explore the two behind him. The other
hand braced him so that he would not be driven into the ground by the
titans' energetic motion.

Terry was amazed at the feel of being gripped hard off and on by Chris's
inner muscles. He focused himself on keeping a steady, swift pace. Their
synchronicity was miraculous, without misstep or wasted motion. Terry knew
when Chris was about to orgasm. The fierce rippling grip near the base of
his shaft told him all.

Chris cried out as his orgasm detonated inside Jim. Pulse after pulse of
fluid left his body and went to Jim. His inner grip on Terry clamped down
viselike. That final clenching shoved Terry over the edge also. His orgasm
was nearly painful with its intensity. Finally Jim had his, the cushions
beneath being sprayed time after time with spurts of clear and white fluid.
All three were drained of the last remaining energy with this last round.

Sated and thankful, David, Katherine and Michael reluctantly let lose their
hold on the living. Their contentment would be enough to last them until
another trio came. Joyously, their faint forms swirled around each other and
their nearly comatose hosts, then faded from sight. Chris, Jim and Terry
collapsed around and over each other. Their contentment was nearly as great
as that of their departed guests. Exhausted by the marathon of passion, all
three fell asleep.

Always a restless sleeper, Terry flailed in the grip of a dream. His leg
kicked out and bumped a table that held one of the hurricane lamps. It
teetered for a moment before falling on its side. The chimney came loose and
fell away as it rolled to the wall. The flame caught the trailing edge of
some of the hanging cloth. In seconds, the fire raced up the wall and into
the ceiling. The old beams and wood paneling rapidly took.

The three ghosts watched in horror. They never thought that anything like
this might happen. Certainly not the death of their recent benefactors.
Unless something was done swiftly, three more might join their group in
eternity. Desperate to save them, the re-entered the sleeping ones. Grabbing
clothes in a rush, they threw open the door and raced for the ladder. Chris.
Jim and Terry were barely awake, conscious that they were moving, that they
needed to, but not why or how they ended up at the ladder.

A roar from the vacated room as the fire snatched more fuel shook them from
their sex induced daze. Eyes wide with shock, they scrambled up the ladder.
Terry threw down the trapdoor to try to cut off the airflow into the
inferno. They struggled into their clothes, not caring whose was on whom,
speed more important than ownership at this point. A red glow was showing
around the edges of the trapdoor. The fire was now into the interior of the
lower walls. The gaps of old style lathing and plaster left enough oxygen to
fuel the fire still.

"Come on you two, let's get the fuck out of here!" screamed Jim.

They ran down the halls and through rooms that no longer felt strange or
distorted. The guides within each knew all the tricks and turns of their
once home. They refused to be the death of these wondrous men that had given
them a brief taste of life and touch. No new souls would join them here this
day. Within moments, they reached the front double doors which flew open
just before they reached them. Scrambling to a halt, they briefly kissed
each other and then plunged out into the open air. Each felt a wrenching
tug, soul deep as they crossed the threshold.

Stumbling down the stairs, Jim, Terry and Chris landed in a heap at the
bottom. Untangling themselves they looked up at the doors. Michael,
Katherine and David shimmered into being for an instant and then faded,
waving a last farewell. The trio at the foot of the steps could see flames
gnawing at entire mansion now. After over two hundred years, Hillside
Mansion was coming to its last breath.

***

Terry felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he shut the manuscript. He
didn't need to read the rest. He remembered clearly the rest too. The
mansion had burned swiftly and thoroughly. Even the slate roof's collapse
had not put out the blazing incendiary storm. Firefighters didn't reach the
site until well after it was over. Miraculously, nothing beyond the fence
line caught fire. A last gift from the ethereal residents to their living
benefactors.

His nightmares were always about that hellish race through the burning
house. And about trapped souls that could not leave. His guilt wasn't just
over nearly getting Chris and Jim killed along with himself, but that he did
not know if his act had doomed the bound ghosts in some way. He wondered of
some small part of Michael had not come out with him. Never completely
conscious of that thought, it played out in his dreams.

Getting up, Terry carried the manuscript back to Jim's room in a daze.
Nothing had been changed; this was no work of fiction. Still, most of the
public would remain ignorant of the truth, simply thinking it just an odd
erotic tale. Some people from the home town might speculate on its truth.
That was the thought that had first made him cringe. The paranormal
experience would be viewed with delighted conjecture about what might be
true. Doubts of the sanity of those involved would bring in a round of back
fence gossip. For it was probable that most people would read the book since
it was written by one of their own. Jim never published under an assumed
name. The sexuality of it didn't bother Terry in the least. Everyone there
already knew about that and had had years to chew that particular bone to
the marrow.

Jim looked up as Terry came in. He could see that Terry was really all
right. Holding the manuscript out, Terry gently deposited it into Jim's
hands. The tears had finally come to a stop. Maybe his worries about Terry
were finally over.

"So...?" Jim asked.

"You put in everything."

"Yes. Does that still bother you?"

"Not really. Somehow, seeing how you and Chris saw what happened made a
difference. Don't ask me how, I don't really understand yet," replied Terry
thoughtfully.

"I might," Jim said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes. You never cried about it. Chris and I did. Not long after either, but
you didn't. Take a look," Jim pointed to his dresser mirror.

Terry walked over to the mirror and stopped, stunned. The tear tracks on his
cheeks were ever so faintly luminous. Even as he watched, they faded and
only wetness remained. He could see Jim watching him in the reflection and
turned back to him.

"What was that?" asked Terry, totally bewildered.

"I think that was the last of Michael. I think a small part of him was
trapped in you. The tears released him."

"But how? Why?" Terry still couldn't understand what it meant.

"When I called Chris, we got to talking about your nightmares. How they
always focused on the house burning and that final moment after we got
shoved out the door. He got this idea that there was a reason it kept coming
back. We talked a while and tried to figure out why we didn't have any
nightmares after that first night.

"It finally dawned on us that we all three had that same nightmare the first
night. Nearly identical. Chris remembered waking up crying from it. I cried
after I saw the smoke still rising in the distance from our campsite.
Remember, we went back to avoid having to answer questions. After that, no
more nightmares for me or Chris.

"We couldn't remember you ever crying, before or after that day. You just
don't, you stubborn turkey! So, I think maybe your fears and the nightmares
came from Michael. I don't he intended it, just maybe got stuck in your
subconscious and would get expressed during your dream cycle when your
internal defenses got low enough. You've always been a little different
after that day. More fearful, more concerned about what other people
thought. It never occurred to me that this was something from outside.

"Anyway, the tears released him. That last little bit of his being is no
longer stuck in you. I have feeling your fear and the nightmares about
Hillside Mansion are finished now. You're both free," finished Jim.

"Hmm, I think it might be one thing more," said Terry thoughtfully.

"What?" asked Jim curiously.

"I think they had to be mourned. Remember the bits and pieces of their
memories? David's father killed them and said he would make sure no one ever
found out. He forbade the family to ever talk about them and kept close
watch that they didn't. Just saying the names would bring down his wrath. Do
you think any of them dared to mourn or even cry for them? That trapped them
as much as anything, I think," explained Terry.

"Could be. Whatever the case is, it should be over now," said Jim

"I certainly feel different."

Jim smiled and got up. He crossed the room to where Terry stood and took him
in his arms. Tilting his head to the side, he kissed Terry soundly and
thoroughly. The memories of Hillside Mansion could finally be put where they
belonged; the past and fond remembrance.

"I will always be grateful to them. They showed me you and Chris in a new
light. I can't believe none of us ever fooled around together before then!"
laughed Terry.

"Chris will be back from his business trip in a couple of days. It'll be
nice to have him home again. I'm grateful too. I think they showed me the
two best people to spend my life with at the right time and the right way to
accept it."

Terry pulled Jim toward the bed. He was feeling amorous now that a deep
hidden weight was gone. Kissing Jim, he pushed the bemused man back onto the
bedspread. Laughing with delight, he swiftly drew off Jim's sweat pants and
t-shirt. Typically, Jim wasn't wearing underwear. Even boxers had become to
confining for his spirit.

Stripping quickly him self, Terry jumped onto the bed next to Jim. He ran a
hand over the trail of chest hair that narrowed and then led down to Jim's
bellybutton. They were both still in good shape, though nothing like when
they fresh out of high school. Slight love handles here, minor ordinary
sagging there. Still, they both were extremely healthy in their middle age.

Cupping his real goal gently, he kissed Jim again. Jim returned the favor
and began stroking Terry into life. Their love making had long ago settled
into a leisurely, sensual affair event. There was no hurry to reach orgasm.
The same with Chris when with one or the other or all three. The events at
Hillside had bound them together with such strength that even the years had
not parted them.  No one would ever understand it, but that was not an
issue. It didn't matter to them, finally, what anyone else thought about
their living arrangements or their past now.

Many pleasurable minutes later, they fell asleep in each others arms.
Content and happy, sleep came easily. For Terry, he was sure the nightmares
about Hillside Mansion would not return. That made the roller coaster ride
of a day worth it. Jim was going to take great delight in telling Chris
about the whole thing.

***

Off at the site of the late Hillside Mansion, three very dim lights appeared
over the burnt ruins. They spun and bobbed and whirled around the grounds.
It, to a hypothetical onlooker, looked like the merry dance of candle flames
in a breeze seen from a distance. After what appeared to be a lengthy period
of tag, the lights merged together into one. It grew brighter and brighter,
shining nearly as bright as Venus at dusk and then took off straight into
the sky. From that time on, no one has seen anything at all that might be
construed as otherworldly or haunting at remains of Hillside Mansion.