In just about any neighborhood, there exists at least one ‘haunted’ house. Every town has one. The old timers in the tiny community of Everton love scaring kids with hair-raising tales about their very own ‘spook house’. It’s been that way for as long as anyone can remember. The sacred tradition of passing down oral folklore is sure to continue for as long as humanity has legends.
What makes the much-maligned Hawthorne place so different, is that it still has a living resident. That curious exception doesn’t make it any less frightening to the neighborhood kids, however. They instinctively pick up their pace as they walk past it, on the opposite side of the street.
The sole resident of the place is an eccentric miser in his seventies. The townsfolk privately regard him as ‘creepy’, but treat him publicly with a cautious level of respect. The fact is, the old man keeps to himself and little is known about him. Dark, unsavory rumors continue to circulate about his unusual interests but there has been no proof to back any of it up. Some even go so far as to imply he is ‘in cahoots’ with ‘ol Satch’; but that’s probably just more idle gossip from wagging tongues. People tend to speculate instead of investigate.
Many generations had lived in Hawthorne house but now Eliphas Hawthorne is the last of his long lineage. By all accounts, he only ventures outside its ominous Victorian confines to run necessary errands. His near-continuous occupancy of the stately manor somehow adds to its dark mystique with most folks. He gives the disturbing impression he is maintaining a guarded vigil over something inside. Something that needs to be locked away.