What a Soul Goes For, Part I

Kirsten bought the old Delacroix place, built back in eighteen hundred thirty-four. A rambling home in the old federal style; seven bedrooms, five baths, and three floors. People whispered about the house and all the things that had taken place there. In haunted New Orleans this home was the spookiest of a town with it's share. There was talk that a demon haunted the grounds, raised up from the darkest pits of Hell. That he would do the bidding of those who asked, if to the Dark One their soul they would sell. That, along with strange shrieks and howls were not even counted amongst the worst. All knew for a fact, that one century back Guillame Delacroix had gone quite berserk. He killed his whole family with a great axe, so he was sentenced to sing from a rope. Yet on the gallows he’d smiled and said: “Fools, it is not yet my time to go!” For long years after, the legends do say Mad Guillame stalked through the old house. Some warned Kirsten that he and the demon were still within and haunting it now. But she didn’t really believe in that stuff, and the deal offered she couldn’t resist. She even figured that to make extra cash she could give ‘ghost tours’ to the tourists! Making it even better, living not far off, was a young man named Endicott James. She found herself taken by his genteel charms, and the old soul that within him lay. Months went by, then one night while alone a kitchen pot flew off of the wall. Made of cast iron, it struck poor Kirsten, and to the hard tiles she did then fall... CONTINUES IN PART II.