The Last House on Cemetery Lane Page #3

it'll make great material

for the horror films.

True.

Hey, I should open a shop

and you should be the writer, yeah?

- What would I write about?

- I don't know.

Hello, Agnes?

Hello?

Hello?

Well, it sounds crazy, right?

If you say it happened,

then I believe you.

You do?

There's a lot of things in this world

we don't understand.

I try to keep an open mind

about everything.

So, what are you gonna do?

Well, I'd like to speak to the landlady,

that's for certain.

Maybe she can shed

some light on all of this?

But come on, is she really gonna admit

there's something strange going on?

Even if she did know.

I don't think she wants

that sort of things getting out.

No one will ever rent the place again.

True.

Well, I'd like to speak to Mrs. Bloody

Mystery upstairs, that's for sure.

You know, if you think there's

something paranormal going on,

you could get a priest in

to bless the place.

- There's the Catholic in you talking.

- Lapsed Catholic.

Yeah. Well, I'm more interested

in finding answers, Cas,

not bloody purging the place.

How about a Ouija board?

A Ouija board?

That would definitely be a last resort.

Do you want me

to stay here with you tonight?

As good as that sounds...

No, I'm probably better off

just utilizing these creative juices

while they're still flowing, you know.

I don't know. Perhaps I'm just...

losing my mind here or something.

You're not crazy.

Part of me wonders. I don't know.

Am I letting my imagination

run away with me here?

Plus, I'm just getting the lines between

fact and fiction a bit blurred, you know?

You don't need to question yourself, John.

Always trust your instinct.

Trust your heart.

You're a calming influence on me,

Cas, you know that?

I try.

- Hello.

- Hi.

Mrs. Connelly, yeah.

It's John Davies here at the house.

Oh, hi. How's it going there?

Yeah, look, I just wanted to

ask you a couple of questions.

- They might seem a little strange.

- Okay. I'm intrigued.

Well, it's just about this house.

I was wondering if you

ever had any previous residents mention

unusual occurrences?

- Like what?

- Occurrences of the supernatural.

No. Are you looking for material

for a film, Mr. Davies?

No. It's nothing like that. It's just

that there's been some unusual things

happening in the house, that I'm really

struggling to find a rational explanation for.

Can you be more specific?

Well... Well, the record player

often comes on in the night by itself.

And there's stuff being moved

around the house.

And I was in the shower earlier on and...

Writing appeared on the mirror just before

the door slammed and locked me in.

Well, that's quite a story.

You writers have wonderful imaginations.

Oh, no, no, no. It's just that I'm trying

to find out what's happening.

I thought perhaps, I don't know, it could

be linked to the history of the place.

Have you ever heard of an incidents

happening down the years or anything?

Of course I haven't.

Nothing that I know of.

So... I hope that this

woman upstairs, Agnes,

is there anything at all

you can tell me about her?

I'm sorry, but I can't

divulge personal information.

I'm sure you can appreciate that. I don't

think you'd like it if I blabbed your...

Yeah, of course.

- Yeah, I'm sorry to bother you.

- Anything else I can help you with, Mr. Davies?

- Have you...

- If there is you know where to find me.

Yeah, that's fine...

Hello?

That went down great.

Hello, Mr. Ouija board.

All right.

F*** it.

Spirit guides,

guardian angels of light...

I call upon you to answer my question.

This is so f***ing stupid.

F***ing hell. F***ing hell.

It works.

The painting beneath the stairs...

is there any significance to it?

Death.

Who died here?

Who died?

Was it an accident?

No.

The record player.

Who keeps on turning on the record player?

Did anybody use to listen to the player?

Anybody who lived here?

Please...

Who used to listen to the record player?

Agnes.

Did Agnes used to turn it on?

No.

Who turns it on?

Come on, please. Tell me, who turns it on?

All right.

This doll...

Did it belong to a child who died here?

Who did the doll belong to?

Murderer.

Agnes.

Is Agnes the murderer?

Stop it.

Stop it! Stop it, all right!

Stop it! Stop it!

Stop it. I've had enough

of this sh*t! Please.

Agnes?

Agnes, are you listening to me?

You've had all you want of this.

I knew you would come for me eventually.

You're not the only one.

What?

The fallen angels.

They want to take me to hell

for what I've done.

What have you done, Agnes?

I've sinned.

- We've all sinned.

- Not like me.

I've sinned in the worst possible way.

Murder?

As good as.

Tell me. Please.

You have a kind face.

Twenty years ago...

I lived here with my husband, William,

and our daughter, Catherine.

We were such a happy family.

Then one day...

William got sick.

Very sick.

I nursed him for many months.

I stayed strong for him.

But inside, I was terrified

of being left a widow.

I prayed to God to heal my husband.

But God didn't listen.

After William died,

this place was never the same.

Catherine was devastated.

Initially, she just stayed

in her room all day,

playing with her china doll.

She became a troubled child,

and had problems at school.

She even began to lash out at me.

Sometimes when a person one loves dies,

it brings people closer together.

For us, it just drove us apart.

When Catherine was in her early 20's,

she used to hang around

with a girl from down the road.

She was such a lovely girl.

Always smiling.

And Catherine and she

got into an argument...

about a boy.

I was sitting in the living room

listening to my favorite song.

As I sat there,

I heard raised voices upstairs.

They were louder than the music.

As I raced out of the room

to see what was happening,

I saw Catherine push

that young girl down the stairs.

She broke her neck and died.

Instantly.

- It wasn't an accident, was it?

- No.

I saw Catherine's face.

It wasn't the face of my daughter,

it was the face of pure evil.

Catherine wanted to kill that young girl.

Did you call the police?

My daughter was so young.

She had her whole life ahead of her.

I had to consider things.

I decided not to involve the police.

Why the hell not?

I couldn't see the point

in two young girls

losing their life on the same night.

If I'd... If I'd reported

an accident to the police,

they would have been bound

to find out the truth.

I couldn't take that chance.

I felt my daughter

was a good person at heart.

She'd made a mistake.

And let the evil in.

Satan is a sly entity,

and can influence any of us

in a moment of weakness.

Tell me, what happened next?

I put the body

in a cupboard in the basement.

I sealed the room,

wallpapered over the door.

No one would even know

there's a room there.

But the dead girl,

she must have had some family

who were looking for her, no?

She was an only child

who had run away from home.

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