Prologue: One Foot in the Grave

"Hope is the formaldehyde of life." --- A Sin-Eater proverb

Time: 9:15 pm CDT
Location: Carrollton, New Orleans

Situated on Saint Charles Avenue in the historic Carrollton neighborhood of New Orleans, the Guillory House is a beautiful home by most accounts. Architecturally, it’s a center hall cottage – a style of building that appeared in the city during the early 1800s and was popularized by the upper middle class. The house’s basic layout is rectangular and raised about five feet off of the ground, which puts the entire structure at two and a half stories high. It sports a gabled roof, white weatherboard walls, and is enclosed by a wrought-iron fence. The windows are evenly spaced – with two on either side of the front door - and curtained with white lace. A wide-sitting roofed porch with Italianate columns makes up the façade of the building, accessed by a central stair and surrounded by immaculate landscaping. At first glance, the building strikes you as old.

Inside, the home is equally as attractive. Hardwood floors, brass ensconces, and walls of white plaster decorated with family portraiture and Impressionist paintings. The furnishings seem as old as the house itself: ornate 19th century end tables, armoires, bookcases, and salon chairs that lend an air of "southern gothic-ness" to the place. In general, the rooms of the home are symmetrically laid out and accessible by a central hallway. A small glass chandelier in each of the rooms provides soft light. Only the occasional modern contrivance, such a flat screen television or laptop, breaks from the home’s antiquated colonial décor.

Under the guise of paranormal investigators, your krewe was invited to the home of the Guillory family. For almost a year now, the Guillories have been terrorized by events that they claim are supernatural in nature. It began when the family moved in a year ago and got portions of the house remodeled. Individual family members reported strange noises, footsteps coming from empty rooms, and cold spots in which the air temperature was 10 degrees colder than the surroundings. This proceeded into appliances turning on and off seemingly on their own, objects being relocated, and hand prints on the bathroom mirror after a steamy shower. The family initially assumed that these occurrences were simply the sounds of an old house settling, or that there were problems with the house’s wiring.

However, things have ramped up in the past few months. The family has reported briefly seeing shadow people, catching movement from the corner of their eyes, and the constant feeling of being watched. Strange smells, whispers, and mysterious laughter have been growing in frequency, and the walls have occasionally leaked an odorous, opaque gel-like substance that no one appears able to identify. Still, the family had remained mostly in a state or denial or grudging tolerance until the Guillory’s fourteen year old daughter, Samantha, started waking up with inexplicable scratches and bite marks. She will no longer sleep alone in her bedroom.

Currently, you are all meeting with the Guillory family in the parlor of their home. The room is decorated with several plush chairs and love seats, as well as bookcases, rugs, and a mahogany work desk that makes it hard to tell if this is supposed to be a living room, office, or study. Your krewe was referred to the family by one of your contacts in the voodouisant community of New Orleans. From what your contact has explained to you, the family is desperate and needs help. And best of all, they are in a position to offer payment, which isn’t always the case with many of the people helped by your krewe. It’s clear, just from the house alone, that this family has money.

Claudine Guillory and her daughter sit on one of the small couches. Mother and daughter look very much alike: soft features, light auburn hair, and willowy frames. Both are sitting quietly, and Claudine is drinking what appears to be tea. They are dressed in brand name upscale summer dresses. Based on their body language, Claudine and Samantha Guillory seem scared but hopeful, especially Claudine. It’s something that your krewe has seen many times before with victims of hauntings; a fatigued vigilance that develops from frequently living in fear. From the way that Claudine is stroking her daughter’s back, you can tell that she’s more afraid for her daughter than herself.

A stern-looking middle-aged man sits by himself in a nearby armchair. Jérôme Guillory appears as though he just arrived from work. He’s clad in a charcoal gray business suit that indicates some kind of white collar profession. Given the oppressive heat and humidity of Louisiana, no one would normally dress that way unless they had to. Unlike his wife and daughter, the expression of impatience on Jérôme’s face tells you that he isn’t very supportive of bringing your krewe here. It was likely his wife and daughter’s idea. Either he doesn’t belief that the strange events in his home are supernatural, or he is angry over the embarrassment of calling paranormal investigators for help.

You’ve asked to come to the house in the late evening. The krewe and the Guillories have only just made introductions before retreating to the parlor. Claudine does all of the talking. Samantha is quiet; due to fear or shyness, you can’t say. Jérôme sits and studies each of you with a leer of skepticism. He hardly speaks.

"Thank you again for coming." Claudine smiles nervously between sips of tea. She gives you all glances of desperate hope that are painful to see. "We didn't know where else to turn. I was told that you deal with... this kind of problem. You came highly recommended by a woman who used to do the housekeeping here."


If you have Spotify, here's some music to set the mood: Old Scratch's Dead Delta Jukebox

Derek admired the style and design of the house and the fact it was still standing after the test of time. Although not famous enough for everyone to point out its creator it had character he thought as he and the others were ushered in leaving him mostly distracted. He sat with his satchel in his beige linen covered lap his toes wiggling in boat shoes as he scanned the moldings. He hadn't really felt out the man of the house but he did feel a bit jealous and coveted having his wife and daughter. He dismissed the idea when looking at the being next to his chair that opted to stare at the ceiling no doubt Derek figured musing about an ancient timber still supporting the house. If he wanted a family he would have started dating again... that just seemed too difficult and awkward still.

With a short inhale he adjusted the rolled up sleeves of his white linen shirt and leaned forward, "Could you retell us in your own words what has transpired over time again?" he requested looking to the lady and young miss of the house. Derek completely ignored The Driftwood King who had opted to make himself at home spreading out into a small field of wooden bits on the floor.

Derek listens to the first hand explaination until it devolves into quietly showing proof.

Either they don't want to say or they can't otherwise this is all real... He thought a slight frown on his face. He looked at the girl with slight pity.

This was the work of so done unseen and unheard... these wounds were there showing something people often have a hard time with... existence.