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The Most Haunted Story in History	By : rinflowers1986 Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2750 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The car jolted to the side suddenly, turning the smooth relaxing eight-hour drive from the airport into a bouncing rhythm for near half a minute. Dash’s mom cried out from the back seat where she had been naping since they left the city.

“What on earth?”

“Just a few potholes Mom,” Dash said, leaning forward to scan the radio for the umpteenth time since they started this last leg. Dash hated that phrase, “last leg of the trip.” It always reminded him of amputee stories he heard when he volunteered down at the veterans home. He shuddered, fiddling with the buttons of the rental.

“Stop that.” His dad removed his hand from the wheel long enough to swat him. “There’s no reception out here for another twenty miles at least.” He pointed to a road sign saying exactly how much further the next town was.

“Yeah, and all that will be playing is country and oldies.” Dash huffed and fell back into his seat. It really didn’t matter what they played, as long as this long silence was destroyed, obliterated, shattered, smashed, ruined! His CD player, yes CD player, he was old fashioned, what of it, had died on him on the plane and he had to listen to the kid seated next to him, because he was the only other teenager on the plane, yammer on about how he should have just got an iPod or something.

Dash had had an iPod once, but two weeks after joining the musical trend he sat down and it broke. At least he could put his CD player in his back pocket and it not break.

Once he got his computer set up at the new house he would just listen to the radio online, simple solution to the bad taste shared by his future neighbors, but it didn’t help him now.

He switched the power button on his CD player to ON for probably the same number of times he’s fiddled with the radio, seeing if some magical boring-car-drive god decided to bestow his batteries with mystical power. No such luck. The little green light flickered and sputtered in the way dying batteries could only make it do.

Swell.

*~*~*

Dash slammed the car door, the finality of it assuring him that, indeed, the torturous car drive was at an end. He felt like punching his fist into the air and declaring himself a survivor, but that kind of behavior was reserved for idiots and losers, and he was neither. So instead, he simply jammed his thumbs into his belt loops and snorted, turning to look at the large Victorian house his great aunt had once called home.

It was, indeed, breathtaking. Two stories high, three if you counted the attic, and the kind of old, dull brown you would imagine meant wood rot, but no. The brown was the wood, smooth and sanded and, though a bit weather worn, perfect as the day it was cut.

Dash put a hand on one of the carved beams supporting the porch roof. It was engraved, delicate carvings done, no doubt, by his aunt. His father said she was a sculpture and had done most of the carvings in the house. He touched a finger to the growling lions head, about the size of his fist. The detail was beautiful. He would have liked to have known this aunt of his.

“Oh it’s marvelous!” His mom cried, twirling in the center of the foyer, her feet wrinkling the velvet rug as they tried to keep her body in its circular motions. “It’s all like a dream; I can’t believe it’s ours!” She ran off in some direction, not caring where she started touring, just that she sees more of the fully furnished, large, magnificent house.

“She really is excited.” Dash jolted, turning to stare at his great aunt’s attorney, Maurice Foley.

“Hello Mr. Foley.” Dash said with reserve. His experience with lawyers had always been unpleasant. They were smooth, charming, greasy slimes that ate up people’s money and helped in the off chance they got in trouble, were swindled, or died, and a will had to be read.

Maurice smiled, his eyes laughing. He didn’t feel like someone Dash should look out for, but some people never do. “I hope you all got here without a problem.” He said.

Since both his parents had wondered off like unattended children in a shopping mall, Dash was left to deal with the potential threat. “My batteries died way too early for my liking,” He held up his CD player, “But other than that, no. Mom didn’t even get jetlag.”

“Well, that is good news.” Maurice smiled that kind, gentlemanly smile that Dash still didn’t trust.

“Can you tell me about the house?” Dash found himself asking before he could stop himself.

“To tell you the truth I don’t know much myself.” Maurice walked into the foyer and stood beside Dash. “I met your aunt when she found her old lawyer had been swindling some of her money for scientology. She had lost almost everything, her millions had turned to the hundred thousands overnight, and she was quite a wreck.”

‘How like a layer.’ Was all Dash could think. They started up the stairs, “Did she carve all these designs?” he asked, his fingers fitting into the grooves of the long winding snake that was the banister.”

“Yes, most of them. Some are from her granddaughter. The snake railing was her granddaughter’s.” Dash shivered, the scales were well done, and he pulled his hand away. “She managed to get some of her money back, two, three million. Nevertheless, it was not what she had before and as this land has its own wellspring, its property value was enormous, so was its property tax.”

“That’s what kills a lot of people.” Dash said.

“That’s right. They spend all their lives paying off their homes then when they retire, they don’t have the kind of cash to keep up with the property tax. Many end up selling their houses to big agencies who then tear down the homes and develop it.” They peaked into rooms, big rooms, with large open windows and huge drapes that closed to envelope the entire room in darkness and protect the furniture. “It’s a tragedy.”

‘So you say.’ Dash thought, but he knew most people, like lawyers, loved the high property taxes. More money for them.

There was a horn blaring outside and Maurice swore, going into one of the rooms and looking out the window. “My wife and son are getting restless.” Maurice said, opening the window and leaning out. “Five more minutes Tucker!” He yelled down to who, Dash could only guess, was his son behind the wheel of the car, leaning on the horn with an impatient look.

“Here,” He said, handing Dash the big briefcase he had been carrying since he arrived. “Everything’s in here.” He handed Dash this strange looking key, it was metal on the end, but the handle was wooden, and carved into what looked like a skull, the key looked like a serpents tongue coming out through its teeth.

“It hasn’t been opened since she handed it to me eight years ago.” Mr. Foley said. “She gave me strict instructions to give it to you, not your father.” That surprised Dash; he hadn’t figured his aunt even knew of him. Though he shouldn’t have been shocked, his father was her only family since her daughter died. “She was really pressing on this. Said grownups wouldn’t understand.” With that, and a low chuckle, Mr. Maurice Foley, the only person Dash had ever been truly confused by, left.

*~*~*

The leather was soft, like cream, a kind of soft only expensive shoes and well-worn biker gloves were allowed to be. The key, an obvious jest at skeleton keys, was really, really creepy and he didn’t think he’d like what was inside too much, so instead of opening it right away he carried it with him as he continued exploring the second story and all its bedrooms, looking for a room he could call his own.

Finally, he decided on a nice looking guest room, as the masters would be taken by his parents and he did not want to claim his cousin’s, which despite all the clearing out still looked like it belonged to her.

His room, as he now staked claim, was decorated in the way all guest rooms were, like most hotel rooms were, homey but without a shred of personalization. It had the usual lamp, a well-made bed that would make an army general proud, a dresser with a vanity, and a large rug. It also had a window seat, something no other room, even the master’s, had. It was the reason Dash chose it, because of that one, and only, difference.

There was no closet, only a wardrobe that would fit him and his cloths and probably still have room for a monster to hide in too. A wardrobe made for big dresses no doubt. A large wardrobe and a vanity. Hmm.

That’s it, this was officially a female guest room!

Well it was his room now. And with that, he threw the leather case on the bed and put his player on the nightstand. Female room or not, he was glad for the large closet and the mirror, but most of all, he was glad for the window seat.

Climbing up on it, he pressed his nose to the paneled window. Unlike the other windows of the house, this one opened out on hinges, where most of the others just pushed up on cords. They all had shutters, but this one had big ones, it was a big window, and relatively new. The little square panels would probably annoy someone if they wanted a good view of the large garden his aunt had, it was a very impressive yard, but he liked it because when it snowed, as it often did in this area during winter, the snow and frost would collect there and be such a wonderful atmospheric affect.

He fluffed one of the pillows there, it gave off some dust and he had to bat the air away before he could breath normally again, and leaned back. It was a great place to read historical romance books, in fact it was the perfect place to read historical books, especially romance.

The curtains closed on the outside of the seat, making the spot its own secluded hideaway, and since the other rooms didn’t have one, he felt pretty privileged.

A glance at the bed reminded him of the secret briefcase, the one made for him, not his parents, and the whole conspiracy of it finally lured him in. A curiosity he hadn’t had before, as he was more curious about which room he’d be spending the night it, pulled him away from the window and he picked up the bag.

“What the hell?” He looked down at the lock keeping the thing closed. The key he’d been given wouldn’t open this lock! It was new, and thin, like a car key or a padlock. And more importantly, the keys to it were on a little metal ring looped through the zipper of the front pocket. “So, what’s this key to?” He asked aloud, pulling the large skeleton key from his back pocket.

Taking the bag over to the window he sat back and unlocked it, pulling out three bundles of paper, a thick folder, a manila envelope, and a few wrapped packages. He decided to open the manila envelope first, as it had his name written in a pretty calligraphy style and it said, “open first.” Obey your elders, or in this case stylish writing on envelopes.

It was a letter, nothing long or fancy, just a letter from his aunt who he’d never met, at least not to his knowledge, and who’d never so much as sent him a Christmas card.

“Dear Dashiel.”

Great, just like an old person to use full names. At least it wasn’t all of it, complete with middle and surname.

“You undoubtedly wonder why this is for you, since we’ve never met, in fact without the pictures your mom sends I’m certain I wouldn’t even know what you look like.”

Way to feel loved.

“Your father was always a sturdy, no nonsense child, and no doubt has grown into a stern, no nonsense man. My granddaughter and he never got along well, she was a free imaginative spirit and a he was such a stiff, even then, so like my son and his wife. As much as I would love to meet him now, I shudder to think of how he would look at my trivialities and me. I am, like my granddaughter, an overly imaginative woman.

Doubtless you wonder, as you are your father’s child, what the point of this ramble is.”

Well yeah but, be polite, even if it is to a decade old note.

My granddaughter and I stumbled across something while living here. A special secret, a treasure if you will. Not a pirate’s treasure, like gold or jewels, but a historical treasure. Of course, we never actually found all of it, just bits and pieces and hints, like a scavenger hunt. Your father would come over to visit sometimes and boy would he get all huffy when we talked or searched.

“It’s just a stupid game. Why do you take it so seriously?” He would say. That is why I am giving it to you, because, despite my enthusiasm, fifty years and I still haven’t uncovered the whole secret. Now I’m getting on in age, my legs and bones aren’t good for the kind of work the searching requires, and well, without my wonderful granddaughter it just, it doesn’t seem right to continue. However, I can’t bear to think of this just disappearing for another century because your father is such a stiff, unrelenting realist

Everything you need is here, in the briefcase. The paper holds our notes and research, the binder is full of scans and pictures of everything you will need so you won’t have to go through the work of looking through hundreds of books like we did. I also leave you my daughter’s journal and some items we have found very useful. The library, if your father does not plan on sacking and selling everything, is yours to look through as well.

I’ve instructed Maurice to be specific in that I leave the books to you, your father, though he does love his literature, doesn’t see the worth of keeping the valuable old ones when there are nice newer versions available. Also, not many of the books would be to his taste. Most of these books are not ours to give you see, but the original owner’s of this house, and it just would not be proper to sell them. Your father doesn’t understand this, but I hope you do.

Strange, and a bit of a gamble on my part, to leave all this to someone I don’t really know. But I’ve seen in your pictures your wide, inquisitive eyes. I am not much of a judge of character, my recent misshap may prove that, but in this, I really want to be right.

This is quite a gift I have left you Dashiel. Truly, it is, but don’t let it consume you as it did my granddaughter, please. For your own safety, don’t let it consume you, but don’t be afraid of it either. This is a great adventure. A lifelong one in my case.

Your distant but loving Aunt.

Who shall remain nameless.

Dash set down the paper and looked out the window, letting everything sink in.

“A scavenger hunt huh?” He asked aloud. “A lifelong scavenger hunt, sounds a little too national treasure-ish.”

He remembered what his grandmother had written. For your own safety, don’t let it consume you. His cousin has died so suddenly, her parents and her, all in a fire. They said his cousin had refused to leave the house without something. Her mother and father had gone after her, but they didn’t make it. The roof collapsed on them, destroying everything. Killing them.

Had it really had something to do with this?

“Dash?” He jumped, nearly falling off the seat. “Dash, where’d you go off to?”

Quickly, like it was some naughty pornographic secret, he scrambled to put everything on the window seat and close the curtain.

“In here Mom!” He called, sitting on his bed and pretending to be looking in the drawers of the nightstand.

“So, you decided on this room?” She asked, standing in the doorway and looking at the room with a critical eye. “You know it’s a girls room right?”

“Yeah.” He said, closing the drawers. “But I don’t care. I like it.”

“Sweetie, why don’t you take the other room, the big one?” The one closest to them, was what she didn’t say.

“I like this one.” He said firmly.

“Okay then.” She smiled through her disappointment. “We’re ordering pizza, it’ll take an hour or so to get here as we’re so far out, but until the movers come tomorrow I can’t go grocery shopping.” She looked around, “It’s so dark in here, shouldn’t you open the curtains or—”

“No!” Dash jumped up from the bed.

“What’s wrong?” She paused, her hands fisting the thick drapes.

“The...the furniture. See, the rug looks a little sun bleached. I, I don’t think It’s a good idea to open the curtains when the sun is shining in.”

His mom studied the section of the ornate rug near the window but, since the curtains were closed, it was too dark to notice whether the rug was damaged or not. “Well I guess you’re right. And since it’s getting close to sunset anyway turning on the lamps for a small hour of the day wouldn’t hurt.” She let go of the curtains and Dash let out the breath he’d been holding.

She walked over and patted his cheek. “Don’t spend all day exploring just this one room.” She said with a wink and left. Dash rubbed at his cheek where she’d touched him, pats on the cheek were too old lady-like for his tastes. He preferred a kiss on the forehead or a hug from his mom, but no, she had to be all equality and shit. Saying how he’s a young man and young men don’t like to be coddled.

Tsk, says she.

But she was right; he did want to explore the rest of the house, particularly the attic and library. But first, opening the curtains slightly, just in case his mom came back, he gathered up all the papers and the little wrapped bundles, three of them like the letter said, and put them in the vanity drawer. He would probably turn it into a desk or something.

Shutting his door, the key tucked into his pocket just in case he came across a door it might fit to, he turned to start looking for the entrance to the attic.

He figured there might be like a roof entrance, his old house had one that pulled down by a cord, but his father said old houses like this tended to have narrow stairwells behind doors that looked like closets. So he started opening doors.

He had already seen most of the bedrooms, there were two or three he hadn’t seen yet and they looked pretty much the same as the others save they had windows on the opposite side.

The hallway was shaped like a wide U, with the master bedroom and three large rooms, the largest having been his cousin’s, sharing one hallway and four small guestrooms on the opposite hallway. Dash had chosen to get a room from the west side because he liked to watch the sun set, and his room was the closest to the end of the hallway where what he assumed was a linen closet or modernized washroom was. His mom said the reason the guest rooms were smaller was that there was a large washroom and closets on that side of the house, where the larger rooms had their own adjoining washrooms.

Dash skipped over his parents and the other large rooms and took closer looks at the large, walk in closets, looking for roof entrances or hidden doorways. He crossed over the stairwell again, waving to his dad who was looking around the first floor, scratching his balding head and grinning.

Back on his corridor, he started looking on the opposite side of his room. The other hall, what he’d started calling the master wing, had the large bedroom taking up the entire middle section with large French doors opening up out into the balcony. This hall had one room on the end with the window and, he found, the large washroom he had wanted to see.

It was tiled, modernized, with a porcelain faucet and toilet in a three walled booth of sorts. The shower was large as well, a separate room of its own, with three heads that could be either for three separate occupants or adjusted to spray at one person.

The bath was something different altogether. With grooves in the marble floor for candles surrounding a lion claw tub, the three-walled room was small compared to the showers, but it was decorated with all kinds of marble carvings. He turned the water on; the knobs were four fish that swirled around each other in sets of two.

Hot water immediately started pouring into the tub. The faucet, which was bronze, spouted out of the mouth of a water dragon who looked to be clawing its way up out of the floor and gripping the edge of the tub like a sea monster attacking a ship, the fish knobs were clutched in his claws. The tub was huge, six foot long and two foot deep. It was large enough for two people to fit romantically snug inside.

“Couldn’t exploring wait until after a bath?” he asked himself. There was still soap and other bath time necessities on a low granite shelf fixed into the marble floor. It looked like a reef, with fish and other aquatic creatures climbing the coral.

A few towels hung from racks shaped like tree limbs, some birds looked down from the walls, not statues, but engraved pictures. The racks protruded out of carvings of trees like sudden 3D images.

Dash undressed, laying his cloths over a large turtle bench.

The tub was just the right temperature when he climbed in, the dragon, whose glowering should have been unnerving, made him feel protected. Like a golem warding against bad things.

His parents had their own bathroom in their room, and the other three large guest rooms all had their own as well. Unless they suddenly were overrun with long lost family or his parents decided to host the next class reunion, this bathroom was all his.

All his.

“All mine.” Dash said relaxed.

This wasn’t as bad as he originally thought it would be.

*~*~*

Oh, what joy it is to finish this oh so wonderful first chapter.

Normally I’d start off with this really catching prologue, probably with how Danny became a ghost, or maybe with Sam’s or her grandmother’s death. (Don’t kill me, it had to be done!)

But I wanted those things to be mysteries, things you’ll find out about as you continue reading.

Also, I have had the big assed house in my mind for a while now (I planned a big Victorian house for a comic my friend was planning, but never got around to it. I have a few blueprint sketches and some general information I will put together and dump in my deviant art gallery soon (OMG sketch dump w00t!) at which time I’ll give you lot a link. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll make you work for it.

Also, the tub room part of the bathroom is my dream bathroom. I’ve already got plans and everything. I just needs the money to build it.
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The Most Haunted Story in History