WHAT MIGHT COME BACK
By Sheila M. Curtin

for all intent and purposes, the house was smack dab in the middle of nowhere. The studio's lawyers arrived early the next morning, laden with contracts and clauses, the gist of them being that the studio could not be held liable if anything untoward occurred overnight during their stay amongst the spirits, and the absolute nonnegotiable requirement that they'd have to remain within the premises for the entire night in order to win the ten thousand dollars. Mrs. Doris Paulson, tried and true nonbeliever of things that go bump in the night, watched as her husband signed off on the papers and wondered silently to herself what could possibly be the catch.

The studio sent a limousine to pick up the Paulson family at six that evening, and as the vehicle rolled up, so did a sudden overwhelming sense of dread and desperation, feelings that became more palpable as the family took their seats in the back of the limo and made off towards the Maagsten House. Doris found herself unable to shake the feeling of anxiety that surrounded her now, the little voice in the back of her mind warning there was still time to change her mind, insisting that she take her family and run quickly in the opposite direction, as far from the Maagsten Estate as she could possibly get. These feelings grew stronger as they rounded a turn in the road and the house came into view, and as they began to ascend the hill toward the gate, the children began to voice second thoughts about their venture, especially Verdin, the mastermind, who insisted that it felt as if they were being watched by someone in the house as they made their way up the driveway.

There was nothing beauteous about the Maagsten Estate, not in the green of its landscaped gardens or in the quaintness of its architecture. The house itself was a brooding, scowling malevolent entity, its entranceway transforming into a fetid grin as it swallowed the Paulsons and camera crew whole and live. They were met in the foyer by Wendall the Warlock,

the TV personality, decked out in full warlock regalia for the advancing cameras. Doris exhaled an audible sigh of relief upon seeing the actor standing there, relaxing with the thought that it was all just an act, a good show, high theatrics for high network ratings. There were no such things as spirits, ghosts. Wendall began his spiel concerning the history of the house and began to light several candles as he explained how they were disturbing the malevolent spirits and needed protection from the benevolent spirits before the crew departed and they were left alone within the confines of the manor for the night. But first, he insisted, a tour of the house before the darkness became more pronounced and enveloped the manor completely.

As they traveled from room to room, Wendall related the history of Maagsten House, how the ground it was built on had been swindled from a family of former slaves, a family that had escaped the horrors of the south only to be falsely accused of witchcraft and then burned at the stake, each of them including their two year old daughter, to ensure possession of the land by Henri and Marta Maagsten. More lives and backs were broken in the building of the manor, many caused by the calumny of the Maagsten's, in construction accidents avoidable had the owners used proper tools and materials. These unfortunate souls were buried in shallow unmarked graves within the estate's borders, and were said to be both seen and heard in the evenings if one dared to walk in the gardens or upon the grounds. But these pitiable reflections of former lives were not what made Maagsten unfit for human habitation, even so much as for one night, it was what had been invited to take up residence through the debauchery that the Maagsten's had practiced in the seclusion of the manor, through their orgies and rapes, bestiality, child murders, human sacrifices. What had taken up residence within the manor itself had never been human. That which walked those corridors upon nightfall had come straight from the bowels of hell.

The tale itself was compelling but Wendall's theatrical way of telling it struck Verdin as funny and she nervously burst out laughing.

She contained herself with a no-nonsense glare from her father and the group continued on with their tour. Different sighting of different entities in the various rooms and corridors, the Nursery, The Crying Room, The Pink Bedroom, the cellar corridor. The Crying Room seemed the most haunted to Verdin, if there was such a thing, with a horrible smell and freezing temperature that no one else in the group seemed to notice, except her mother. Ted, what is that horrible smell, Doris turned to her husband gagging, it's making me nauseous. Wendall turned and explained that it was part of the phenomena associated with an evil haunt. Ted nodded as if he understood completely, even though he didn't smell a thing, and noticed no drop in temperature, and didn't believe for a moment in evil haunts. But he couldn't bring himself to enter the cellar corridor. Wendall agreed, it was the one place within the manor that no person could enter, not even the work crews, and so it remained untended, full of fog and cobwebs, and whatever haunted there haunted alone.

After the tour, the entire group of visitors congealed on the ground floor near the entranceway, and Mr. Denke, one of the show's producers, began to go over emergency procedures with the Paulson's, explaining that he was leaving them not only with cell phones and land lines, but also with a CB radio that could communicate with passing truckers on the nearby interstate, should all other means fail and they find themselves in need of assistance. He stressed again that the entire family must remain inside the manor for the entire night, that any paranormal events were without the control of the network or its producers la la la, and if they had changed their minds after touring the manor, it was understandable and they could back out now, last chance. He explained that several cameras were strategically placed within the various rooms to capture any paranormal activity, but once the camera crews left they would be on their own for the night.

That voice inside Doris' head began screaming to her get out leave now this is for real, but she pinched herself thinking, Doris for Heaven's sake you're a grown woman, and extended her hand for the keys to the front door. As Mr. Denke dropped the keys into her outstretched hand, a loud crash was heard from

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