McConnell House

1938 Part 2

“Then Bloody Hook dragged the screaming girl back into the house. She was never seen again.”

Ty had been listening to stories about the McConnell house all day, each more elaborate and crazy then the last. Cappy Hook had become Bloody Hook, massacring everyone who came near the place. Rosalie McConnell wandered the house in a bloody wedding dress, crying for love long lost. Hans Schmidt had somehow become a Nazi who hated all Calgarians, marching around the place as if to prepare for war upon the living. It was all absurd, but the people of Calgary couldn’t get enough of it.

It was almost like therapy. For years McConnell House was a taboo subject. No one wanted to talk about it, no one from Calgary that is. Now they couldn’t get enough. The stories people told were far worse then what really had happened in that house, I think anyway, but the more frightening they became, the less horrific the house was. It was like these fake stories were sucking the life out of the place.

At the centre of it all was Jerry West. He stopped by for a drink at the Iron Lady when I was on shift.

“I’m telling you Ty, this is great! You should hear some of the stuff people are saying about that place. Who knew! I could write a book with all the material I got.”

“Funny how people are opening up to you.”

“Yeah, I could be the next Lovecraft or whatever. Bye bye Popular Mechanics, hello novelist.” Jerry wasn’t in the bar at that moment; he was in his own dreamland.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that they are when they avoided the topic before? These stories they are telling, I’ve never heard of before.”

“Oh yeah Ty. They have some great stories. I wonder how fast I could write this book and get it published?”

“I heard that the house just grew to pair of legs and walked off to Edmonton to run for Premier.”

“Yeah that’s great Ty. That house is a gold mine. I’ll talk to you later.” Jerry walked out of the bar with his head still in the clouds, not seeing anyone around him.

The Iron Lady was packed, which happened never. But the people of Calgary had designated the bar the meeting point to tell tall tales about McConnell House. I was being run ragged by the new clientele. I would ask for more help if I knew who my boss was.

“What’s going on around here Ty?” Karl was at his normal spot at the end of the bar. I hadn’t seen him since the night I went to check out the house.

“I’m not sure. A reporter went up to the McConnell House a few nights ago, and now all these people are coming into the joint and telling stories about that house.”

Karl looked like I just told him his best friend died. He looked around the place, hearing what the gossip was for the first time.

“You OK Karl?” I asked.

“That place is bad Ty. It does things to you.” I could barely hear Karl over the general noise of the bar. He had a far away look in his eyes, not unlike Jerry West, but for totally different reasons, “These people don’t know.”

“What happened to you Karl?”

“You are better off not knowing Ty. Don’t listen to these idiots around here and their fake stories. That house will ruin you if you let it.”

“That reporter I told you about is planning on writing about it. I think he hopes to make a name for himself and turn that house into a tourist attraction while he’s at it.”

“Tourist attraction? Is he mad? What do the new owners have to say about it?”

“I have no idea.”