Pierce Prescott had never heard of his late Mother's Uncle Mathias until the day he found out that he'd left him a house in Bradford , Maine. Looking at it as good fortune and easy money, the investments consultant hired an agent and put the place on the market. Being in investments, he couldn't look a total profit in the eyes and not go for it. But after two years, the place still sat there, unsold. The taxes alone were killing him.
"What do you mean no one's even looked at the place?" Pierce yelled into the phone. "I hired you to sell it, not to let it sit there. Are you totally incompetent?"
Percy Carlston, the real estate agent was surprised to be hearing such words from a client. But then again, he wasn't used to dealing with big city executives like Pierce. Choking back a few indignant remarks, he answered his customer. "Mr. Prescott," he said in a patient voice, "you must understand that it's not my fault. The house has a rather colorful history."
"Then that should make it worth even more!" Pierce said, cutting the other man off. "I'll tell ya what. I'm gonna fly up there and we'll talk about it then. If you can't sell it, I'll see to it that you don't sell another house again."
Before Percy could say a word, Pierce slammed the phone in his ear. As he had on many occassions, Percy regretted ever agreeing to handle this particlar deal. His cousin owed him big for this one.
The flight from New York was short, but the airport in Bangor left him hours away by car. After what seemed like everything but an FBI background check at the rental car counter, Pierce found himself on his way. To add to his misery, the weather was beginning to turn sour. He knew that snow could easily leave him stuck up here this time of year. He suddenly regreted making the trip.
It was late when Pierce finally found the tiny ghostown of Bradford. He was tired and from what he'd seen, there wasn't a motel in sight. That left him with the option of finding the house or sleeping in his car, the latter of which was out of the question. Turning back, he headed for the diner he'd passed on his way in. With luck, someone there could give him directions.
Besides himself, there were only two others in the diner. "What can I get ya?" the waitress asked in an 'I smoke too much' voice as he sat down.
"I was hoping to get some directions," he said with a smile.
"That's his department," she croaked, motioning at the cook with her thumb. "Hey Jake, the boy needs some directions."
Pierce ignored the boy comment and smiled at the cooked as he peared over the counter, his dingy hat matching the grease stained apron he wore. "I'm trying to find Redthorn House," he said, noticing the sharp gasping sound from the aged waitress as the words came out.
"What do ya want with that place?" Jake asked, raising one eyebrow.
"I've been trying to sell it for two years without success," he replied, suddenly unsure from their reacions.
"You own it?" the cook asked, his tone reflecting something that Pierce couldn't put his finger on. "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."
"So I take it you do know where it is then?" Pierce asked, giving the menu a quick look.
"Sure do, but i wouldn't go up there if I were you. The place is cursed."
"Cursed," Pierce laughed. "You mean like haunted or something?"
"No," he replied. "I mean cursed. Everyone that's ever lived there has died a strange death."
"Don't get me wrong," said Pierce, his smile remaining on his lips, "but I'm not superstitious. I just want to get up there and have a look. You can quit trying to sell me the spookie story."
"OK<" Jake said, annoyed by Pierce's comment. "Follow County Road about six miles east. When you pass the old bone yard, hang a left. Can't miss the place."
"Thanks," said Pierce, gettiing up. "I'll stop by in the morning for breakfast.
The trip didn't take long at all. Before Pierce knew it, he was sitting in front of the creepy, old house. Knowing that he'd get the machine, he called Carlston's office. "Percy, this is Pierce Prescott," he said into the phone. "I'll expect you at the house around ten tomorrow morning. If you have any problems, call my cell phone. You have the number."
Expecting the power to be off, Pierce thought ahead and brought a flashlight with him. Retrieving it from his bag, he made a mad dash for the porch. As if on cue, the sky opened up and rain began to pour down. Shaking from cold and fear chills, he fished his key out and went inside.
After several attempts of reaching Pierce, Percy began to worry. He called the sherriff and explained the situation. The two of them met on the way to Redthorn House.
Following the trail of bloodied body parts to the master bedroom, they went inside. Like the other times, they found Pierce's heart on the bed. Next to it was the following note.....
My Dearest Victor,
It was the saddest day when I discovered that I had broken your heart.
Perhaps this one will replace it.
Love Eternally,
Elisa.
THE END.
