The Sexton House

Episode 7

Once the door is fully opened, we both
step inside. A small bed is pushed
against the wall, along with a full-length
mirror.

It’s not as dark in the room as I thought
it would be, considering the window is
boarded up, and small pieces from the
wood are laying below the window. I’m
guessing they have fallen off over the
years.

“There’s nothing up here, let’s go back
downstairs, before that changes,” Charlie
tries to convince me.

“No. We need to look around while we
can,” I tell him, walking over to the
window.

“I wouldn’t mess with that, if I were
you,” Charlie warns me. I tear off a small
piece of wood that was loosely hanging
off the frame, forgetting he had just told
me not to.

“I think we should open up this
window,” I tell him, pulling off another
board. They are beginning to fall off
anyway, so there’s no need to leave
them.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” I
turn around to face Charlie.

“Why are you so afraid? Don’t you want
to figure this out?”
“I’ve been trying to figure this out for
over thirty years, and in that time spent
I’ve learned it’s better to just let it be.”
He’s crazy to not want to help solve this
case (if you even want to call it one).
This may scream ‘Danger: Keep Out’ but,
honestly, if I’m going to live here then
I’m going to figure out why Anna Sexton
haunts this place.

“I’m going back downstairs. Be careful,”
he tells me, before disappearing out of
the door. I can’t believe he’s really that
scared, it’s not like I dragged him up
here in the middle of the night. This was
the only time I’ve ever encountered her
so late in the evening, or early morning,
as it is just before sunrise.

My mother will be down tomorrow, so
I’m hoping Anna will be quiet and not
scare her away. I would do anything for
her not to come down so soon, I literally
just moved in this week. The last thing I
need is a nagging mother telling me how
dirty my house is, and how I shouldn’t
have moved out.

I love her to death, I really do, but
sometimes she just needs to mind her
own business and keep her mouth shut.

That’s the big reason I moved out: I was
tired of her constant nagging and
overbearing nature.

I run downstairs to grab a broom,
looking throughout the kitchen in search
of the stupid thing, when I hear the
doorbell ring. I stop what I’m doing,
heading for the door.

I’m guessing Charlie left, because I don’t
see him anywhere. I unlock the door,
opening it with ease, and my eyes widen
at who stands in front of me. “Mother!
What are you doing here?” I’m stunned
to see her standing before me.

“Well, I came to see my baby. What else
would I be doing?” I fight back from
telling her to stop with the ‘baby’ thing.

I’m not your baby anymore, I’m twenty-
one years old for God’s sake.

“But I thought you weren’t coming down
till tomorrow?” Why would she come
today? I’m nowhere near ready for her,
the sink is full of dishes, there’s trash all
over my bedroom, and not to mention
the ghost living upstairs!

“I just couldn’t wait any longer to see
you.”

“It hasn’t even been a week,” I rudely
remind her.

“Loose the attitude,” she warns, pointing
a finger at me. And this is why I can’t
stand my mother, she treats me like I’m
a child. I was just telling the truth. “Well,
are you going to invite me in, or are you
going to leave your poor mother standing
out here in the heat?” I was tempted to
tell her ‘yes’, but then thought better
not.

“Yeah, yeah, come in.” I open the door
further so she can walk through.

“It stinks in here,” is the first thing she
says, her nose is crinkled up in disgust
as she holds it with her perfectly done-
up nails.

“The house is old, what can I say?” She
whips around, making her hair flip onto
her face. I’m preparing myself for some
lecture that is bound to come.

“Harry, darling, I told you this house was
a terrible idea.” And there it is. My
mother reminds me, for the hundred
time since I bought this house, of how
bad of an idea it was.

“I know, Mom…”
“Let me finish.” But I don’t want you to
finish! “I warned you about buying this
piece of… What’s the word?”
“haunted house” I told her
“Just know I warned you,” she huffs,
then walks off to only Gods-knows-
where.

---

The past few hours spent with my
mother have consisted of bickering back
in fourth, telling a few off-coloured jokes
(which earned me a few slaps across the
back of the head), and her reminding
me of my mistakes. Such as, you guessed
it, buying this house.

If I’m being honest with myself, I cannot
wait for my mother to leave. I love her
dearly, but she just doesn’t know when
to shut up. “Harry, what all is there to do
in this little town?” her voice interrupts
my thoughts of kicking her out.

“Um, I’m not really sure, I haven’t had
the time to look around much. I’ve been
busy,” I tell her, tossing the dishes in the
sink. I’ll clean them up later.
“What have you been so busy with?” And
here it comes, her never ending
questions.

“I got a job, plus I’ve been trying to clean
up a bit.” She walks over to the sink and
starts the water to wash the dishes.

“My son, cleaning? I don’t believe it,”
she tells me, filling the sink with water
and soap “What kind of job did you get?”
Oh, Lord. How will I tell her I work in a
graveyard? That’s like the worst place to
work in, other than McDonald’s, which is
worse.

“I work at the cemetery behind the
house…” I take a few steps back from
her.

“You what!? My baby, working with dead
people? You have got to be out of your
mind!” she raises her voice, throwing
her hands in the air.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I try
convening her. It really isn’t, I don’t
think.

“You are working over dead people!” she
shouts. Does she think I am deaf?
“It’s…” The sound of something
shattering upstairs interrupts me.

“What was that?” my mother asks, fear
written clear as day on her hard
features.

“Great timing, Anna,” I say, under my
breath.

“Who’s Anna?”