Aunt Bessie and the 'It'

by Norman A. Rubin

A few years back in time the house on 5 Beale Street was considered the most feared place in town. But that was in past. A new tenant, an Aunt Bessie, had moved into the building and changed the haunting atmosphere.

Today the house on 5 Beale Street is an ordinary two-storey dwelling of five rooms and conveniences. There is nothing unusual or terrifying about the place except when the shaggy chained watchdog feels like barking; more or less annoying to hear as his bark sounds like a thirsty barfly roaring and burping. But the past history is still in the back of the townfolk's thoughts.

Strangely, none of the good people of the town really knew how the tales of the horror of 5 Beale Street began. The good people really did not know what shape of horror it was. All of them figured it must be something really horrible that no one one could spend a night alone in one of the upstairs bedrooms and remain alive—or not driven crazy from the sight.

It was evident in the morning hours that people who had been in that room had either died of fright, or gone mad and raged in the street. Except the living which was usually the nervous sheriff and one of his equally nervous deputies who had the unpleasant duty to attend to the matter at hand, but they dared not talk of what they had seen.

Stories abounded that told of the horrors which encircled the dwelling at 5 Beale Street. A maid who slept in one of the upstairs bedrooms had gone completely mad: when found she yelled, "Don't let 'it' touch me!" A tramp that sought shelter in the empty house screamed as he was pushed down the flight of steps: he had broken his neck and his face was frozen in terror. And additional stories of horror continued to be told through the years.

Because of tales that related scenes of terror and madness the house remained empty for many years. Residents of numbers three and seven Beale Street built high fences of stout timber to hide the sight of the house. But the continued screams of terror from foolish tenants of the neighboring structure forced them to bolt their own homes and flee with their sticks of furniture. Nobody walked past 5 Beale Street for fear of the encroaching terror: when they neared the house they crossed the street and made a sign of protection or fingered beads.

To Aunt Bessie the dwelling at 5 Beale Street was a blessing as the asking price was rather low and so was her bank account. It seemed that her former dwelling was zoned for a highway and the law demanded the immediate vacating of her property. So ghosts or no ghosts Aunt Bessie put her mark on the contract after insistent questioning as her nearsightedness didn't allow her to read the fine print. She then used part of the pittance she received for her old residence as a down payment with an easy-to-pay mortgage for the rest of the amount.

Aunt Bessie was a no-nonsense woman nearing her sixtieth year, but she was also a lonely creature who did not have the love of a man, or caring children. She was a sprightly bird-like creature hopping about the town in her daily errands and her good work in Christian charity. All the folks about the town knew the cheerful smile and laughing blue eyes of Aunt Bessie as she was always there when needed. All who accepted her charity named her Aunt Bessie for the affection she brought to them.

Aunt Bessie within a short time hired a contractor from out-of-town to spruce up the house with a bit of carpentry, electricity, plumbing and painting: no living creature in the town dared her employment which demanded entrance into a so-called house of horror. This Aunt Bessie took with a 'never you mind' as the out-of-towners quoted a lower price for the work.

Within time the antique furniture of Aunt Bessie was in place, curtains decorated the windows and a new letterbox at the entrance gate was ready to receive mail. Only one thing bothered her and that was a reddish-brown splattered smear on a wall in one of the upstairs rooms that defied removal. The contractor put it down to a weathering stain and coated it with a bit of fresh paint. But the contractor was astonished when the stain reappeared and was damp to touch.

Everything was tried by by the workmen to remove it, from sanding and scrubbing to oiling and waxing, but to no avail. So, being a clever woman Aunt Bessie said to the contractor 'never you mind' and she tacked a circular hearth rug on it, but she couldn't understand after she banged in the points that on the following day the carpet was crumbled on the floor. Well, as she said again 'never you mind' as she covered the spot with storage boxes and old bric-a-brac and furniture in the converted storage room ... and locked the door.

Aunt Bessie settled down in her new home quite comfortable and cosy. Lights burned brightly in the downstairs living room as she read the daily passage from the scriptures through a large magnifying glass. Saintly music screeched and crackled loudly from the radio apparatus encased in a large polished wooden cover. The sound of the music was rather loud, as Aunt Bessie was deaf in the right ear. There were no complaints as numbers three and seven Beale Streets were empty. All was content and peaceful in Aunt Bessie's life until the night 'It' showed up.

Aunt Bessie was at her usual occupation in reading the words when she thought she heard a loud harsh coughing sound. She peered through her thick spectacles and only saw a shadowy form in front of her, which she took as a person in need of her charity. The door to her home always being opened to those in need. "Poor dear she is suffering from a nasty cold," she muttered in sympathy.

Before the 'It' was able to utter a boo of a protest Aunt Bessie grabbed the shadow and forced it into the bathroom. With a swift movement Aunt Bessie took a bottle from the medicine cabinet and spooned two heaping spoonfuls of bitter cough medicine down its throat. With frightening screams to the right side of Aunt Bessie the 'It' vanished.

A few nights later Aunt Bessie was disturbed in her sleep in the upstairs bedroom by a creaking sound on the floorboards and the rattling of a door handle. The good woman, thinking about an unlocked door squealing and banging, left the warmth of her bed to investigate and correct. When she opened the door to her room, she saw the 'It' who was there trying to enter the locked storage room. Without her specs Aunt Bessie put the sight down to sleepy eyes.

Then the 'It' turned and saw in the dim light from a reading lamp a horrible spectre. There in front of its eyes was a terrible white-faced minikin covered from head to toe in ghostly cloth of white. The teeth of the 'It' chattered and its knees shook together loudly in sound to the right side of Aunt Bessie and with a scream of terror fled from the sight.

Within time the 'It' made its spooky appearance in the silence of its oiled rusty chains in all ghostly forms. After all, this was the habitat of 'It' that in all its horror removed the tenants from living in its walls and many did not; those who survived the night he rendered mad. Now this infernal creature came and interfered in its nights of haunt.

The 'It' tried desperately to put in a scary sight to Aunt Bessie but to no avail. Frightful horrid noises were tried but the 'It' had the hard luck of screeching on the right side of the good woman. Then 'It' enlarged its shadowy form to terrible proportions on the day that Aunt Bessie mislaid her specs. Every night and even in the daytime the 'It' tried some form of scary pose, but the futility of its desperate efforts were seen in its frustrated movements that showed dejection and indignity.

When the 'It' tried to stretch out its arms from its shadowy form that lengthened in fright, Aunt Bessie simply called out, "you're such a dear!" and put a skein of knitting wool on the arms. The poor dear was getting so dotty in her elder years that she imagined that a friend had popped in for a chat. But the 'It' was humiliated as it sat on its haunches patiently as Aunt Bessie unrolled the wool from its arms into a ball.

According to the folks hereabouts the scary haunt of 5 Beale street was hopefully a thing of the past. The owners of numbers three and seven had move back into their homes with their sticks of furniture. Nobody made the sign or read the beads as they walked past the house, now spruced with a delightful garden.

As for Aunt Bessie she had found a new companion to fill her lonely life with gay companionship. She and the 'It' read the daily passage of the scriptures together, had genial chats over cups of tea and biscuits, and together helped each other in the daily chores. The 'It' was quite useful, as it was able to stretch its arms and clean hard-to-reach places. They lived such a harmonious life together that there was never a boo or a scream of anger between them.

Of course the 'It' never made its appearance on the outside, which Aunt Bessie attributed to shyness. So with a 'never you mind' she attended to the outside errands and the charity work. And the chained shaggy dog was unleashed to watch the interior of the house, and it took its watchful stance stretched out on the living room carpet.

And 'It' in her absence watched scary movies on the newly bought black-and-white television set. 'It' squealed in joyful terror when Frankenstein or Dracula appeared on the 14-inch screen.

Copyright © Norman A. Rubin 2003