The Haunted Mansion

Depths of the Underworld

On the second floor, my carriage points me toward a dark, seductive red-wallpapered hallway with no apparent end in sight. A silver candelabra floats in the distance, creating a faint light in the misty passage. Even though I couldn't see the ghost, I just know it's the passionate ghost of someone sneaking about the hall to their lover's room. Towards the entrance of the hallway, no more than a few feet away from my safe spot in the carriage, is a suit of armor that appears to be possessed by a ghost. The whole scene— the hallway, the candelabra, and the armor— creates a very Romantic scene. It delights me. My carriage moves away from the endless hallway and my imagined romantic scene is ruined by the Ghost Host talking yet again. "We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat. Every room has wall-to-wall creeps and hot and cold running chills. Shhh, listen!"

My carriage travels past a conservatory filled with long-dead and withered plants and flowers. Even though the flora is dead, it smells delightful. I guess horror and thrill smell fine. In the middle of the conservatory, is a coffin occupied by a ghost who believes he isn't dead, but rather, still in his mortal state. The lid of the coffin is being pushed open from the inside, but lots of flowers and mournful candles occupy the top, preventing the ghost inside from succeeding in his endeavor. I hear the coffin ghost inside scream, " Let me out, let me out of here!" Perched near the where I imagine the coffin ghost's hand to be is a raven with red glowing eyes, watching overall.

My carriage continues down a corridor lined with doors. The sounds of pounding, screeching, calls for help, and maniacal laughter can be heard from even the darkest of corners. Door knockers clang and handles are moved by unseen hands. The carriage passes one door in which the door itself appears to be breathing. It sounds wet and heavy; it reminds me of a monster on that one show what I watch late on Friday nights. I forget its name, but the supernatural resemblance is uncanny. The walls are covered with demon-faced wallpaper. The wallpaper itself is adorned with daguerreotypes of corpses and a large painting. The subject is the exact same as the one in the foyer. The Dorian Gray-like man. But this picture shows the man in his young age and it doesn't phrase into later states of his life. There's a plaque under the portrait which says: Master Gracey. So it appears the mystery man has a name after all. My carriage reaches the end of the corridor and stops right before it passes through a curtain. I look to my left and a grandfather clock hitting the thirteenth hour meets my eye. The hands move counter-clockwise and a shadow of a claw passes over the clock face, reminding me that invisible forces are amongst my presence and not to get too comfortable.