― Stanisław Lem
There were five of us now willing to explore the mysteries underlying the spaces we occupy and their meaning in our lives.
There were a whole constellation of factors that weren't simply limited to architecture or the history of a property or an era―elements often hidden that were keys to unlocking arcane secrets so we could more fully enter into the life of a house.
To accomplish these goals required an art and craft I blithely termed house whispering. And it wasn't limited to just looking under floorboards or behind walls.
The house was currently unoccupied―I wasn't expecting that.
Obviously, the family was uncomfortable and refused to move in until certain conditions were resolved to their satisfaction, but I insisted that Esther not raise any suspicions until my team had carried out a preliminary assessment.
She met us on Saturday morning as pre-arranged, and introduced me to her friend, Hannah Becker, who was also involved with helping her sort out the mystery of the house. Hannah’s father was an official in the Canadian government and I sensed there was a subtext that I wasn’t privy to…yet.
There was a hidden dimension in this business and I wondered why I had to go through Hannah to access Esther’s house. It was curious.
Anyway, Hannah seemed cordial enough and handed over the keys after agreeing to return with Esther at four pm so we could present our initial findings.
I was eager to get to work and pleased with the team we had assembled, although it was mainly by dint of sheer luck and truly fortuitous occurrences.
For instance, Poppy was invited by Gail as a means of distracting her from grief at the loss of her fiancé, but it turned out she had a degree in landscape architecture and could assist Greg with the geophysics, the magnetometry and photography.
Nate had a background as historian and antiquarian and Gail and I were the 'sensitives' who could pick up on the subtle nuances that defied categorization.
It was almost as if the Fates themselves had brought us all together.
So, while Poppy and Greg set up their equipment outside the building, Gail, Nate and I entered the foyer.
Gail gave a slight gasp―I felt it too―an almost eerie negative air flow as if we entered a decompression chamber.
"Well, that's odd," Nate remarked, letting his gaze scan the cathedral ceiling of the foyer and the huge oak staircase that dominated the entrance.
"The house is built on a center hall plan but doesn't feel open at all, but closed and restrictive."
"Maybe the word you're looking for is claustrophobic," Gail said with a slight shiver.
"Why don't we each take a floor?" I suggested. "Nate can take the upstairs, Gail the main floor and I'll inspect the basement."
"Sounds like a plan," Nate laughed. "But I'm not sure what I'm looking for."
"Just follow your instincts and check out anything that looks suspicious."
"Right now this whole house feels suspicious," Gail muttered, but she grudgingly complied.
I secretly agreed with her and had to struggle to suppress my fears in order to descend into the basement.
Some houses just have an evil feel to them and this house broadcast sinister vibrations like radio waves.
The malevolent forces seemed to grow more foul and unpleasant the deeper I descended into its depths.
But when I finally descended the stairs, I didn’t encounter a dank dungeon or cavern but several panelled rooms and a huge meeting area and fireplace. It looked quite commonplace although it was almost totally devoid of furniture and with no pictures to adorn the walls.
The truth was, it felt sterile and minimalist, and totally lacking human warmth.
If I were looking for buried bodies there was an absence of proof, but that was scant consolation―in this case, absence of proof was not proof of absence but evidence of a lack or denudation.
In other words, I felt I was in a desert totally devoid of human habitation and I felt panicked as if I were slowly being strangled.