Categories > Original > Horror > The LaLaurie House
A chill blast of wind hit me, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. Almost immediately, a figure dressed in a dark cloak and shawl, moved out of the shadows to my right. Marie darted through the door I had just exited, pulling me with her, and bolted it behind us.
"I thought you would never come out!" she grumbled.
"It's only..."
"I know what time it is!" she snapped. "Lets get to work."
Marie led me up the twenty-six steps to the boy's hall, and pulled an antique skeleton key out of the depths of her robes.
"What's that fo..."
"Shhh!"
Marie inserted the key into one of the, previously locked, doors. It opened with a hair-raising creak. She then produced a candle out of her, seemingly bottomless, pockets. It lit itself. Illuminated in front of us was a set of old, shady-looking, stairs that stretched up into the darkness. Surprisingly, they did not cave in on us, or even make a sound, as we began to climb. At the top was yet another door which opened with yet another rusty key. The stagnant air in the room leapt at us like a vicious, caged animal when the door swung open. It smelled of mildew, dist, and rotten meat. I gagged. There were gaping holes in the paneled walls, and dark stains covered everything. An ancient surgeon's kit sat on the floor next to a low table. Various scalpels and forceps lay scattered over the table's stained surface.
"No doubt you read about this particular room in that little book of yours? The attic slave quarters?" There was a wild look in her milky eyes. Then the thought occurred to me: how could she see what was going on around her when she was so obviously blind?
"Yeah," I stammered, fighting down the growing lump in my throat, "This is where the LaLauries did the experiments on their slaves."
"Precisely. This is where the horror began, and this is where it shall end. The daughter of the wronged may, at last, exact her revenge upon the son of evil."
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you know so little of your own history, boy? The ghosts recognized you from the start, and so did I. I could smell the stink of the LaLaurie blood in you the moment you came in my shop. The dark hair, green eyes, proud features... You even look like them. And, oh, how fitting that you should come to me for help! How fitting that you are now seeking aid from the only surviving descendant of those tortured by your people. Oh, how the tables have turned!" She cackled with glee.
"Look, lady," I stammered, "I didn't do anything to you or your ancestors! I don't know what you mean to do up here, but..."
"Of course you didn't do anything, you stupid boy! Don't you see? It doesn't matter who you are, it's what you are. The fact remains that you have LaLaurie blood flowing in your veins, and the spilling of LaLaurie blood, here in this room, is the only thing that can allow my predecessors to finally rest in peace. You must trade your soul for theirs."
"Sorry, but there's no way that that's going to happen." I started backing towards the wall.
"Oh, but it will. You said you would do anything to stop the haunting. That makes you a willing, and perfect, victim. You will die tonight. I will see to that. I am Marie Laveau, the most powerful Voodoo queen in the history of New Orleans. There is absolutely nothing you can do now, so stop struggling. Now, go lay down on that table, there, and we will begin..."
Suddenly, a creak came from the bottom of the staircase. Someone had opened the door and was climbing the stairs!
"Do not make a sound." Marie warned, then exited the room.
"I thought you would never come out!" she grumbled.
"It's only..."
"I know what time it is!" she snapped. "Lets get to work."
Marie led me up the twenty-six steps to the boy's hall, and pulled an antique skeleton key out of the depths of her robes.
"What's that fo..."
"Shhh!"
Marie inserted the key into one of the, previously locked, doors. It opened with a hair-raising creak. She then produced a candle out of her, seemingly bottomless, pockets. It lit itself. Illuminated in front of us was a set of old, shady-looking, stairs that stretched up into the darkness. Surprisingly, they did not cave in on us, or even make a sound, as we began to climb. At the top was yet another door which opened with yet another rusty key. The stagnant air in the room leapt at us like a vicious, caged animal when the door swung open. It smelled of mildew, dist, and rotten meat. I gagged. There were gaping holes in the paneled walls, and dark stains covered everything. An ancient surgeon's kit sat on the floor next to a low table. Various scalpels and forceps lay scattered over the table's stained surface.
"No doubt you read about this particular room in that little book of yours? The attic slave quarters?" There was a wild look in her milky eyes. Then the thought occurred to me: how could she see what was going on around her when she was so obviously blind?
"Yeah," I stammered, fighting down the growing lump in my throat, "This is where the LaLauries did the experiments on their slaves."
"Precisely. This is where the horror began, and this is where it shall end. The daughter of the wronged may, at last, exact her revenge upon the son of evil."
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you know so little of your own history, boy? The ghosts recognized you from the start, and so did I. I could smell the stink of the LaLaurie blood in you the moment you came in my shop. The dark hair, green eyes, proud features... You even look like them. And, oh, how fitting that you should come to me for help! How fitting that you are now seeking aid from the only surviving descendant of those tortured by your people. Oh, how the tables have turned!" She cackled with glee.
"Look, lady," I stammered, "I didn't do anything to you or your ancestors! I don't know what you mean to do up here, but..."
"Of course you didn't do anything, you stupid boy! Don't you see? It doesn't matter who you are, it's what you are. The fact remains that you have LaLaurie blood flowing in your veins, and the spilling of LaLaurie blood, here in this room, is the only thing that can allow my predecessors to finally rest in peace. You must trade your soul for theirs."
"Sorry, but there's no way that that's going to happen." I started backing towards the wall.
"Oh, but it will. You said you would do anything to stop the haunting. That makes you a willing, and perfect, victim. You will die tonight. I will see to that. I am Marie Laveau, the most powerful Voodoo queen in the history of New Orleans. There is absolutely nothing you can do now, so stop struggling. Now, go lay down on that table, there, and we will begin..."
Suddenly, a creak came from the bottom of the staircase. Someone had opened the door and was climbing the stairs!
"Do not make a sound." Marie warned, then exited the room.
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