Page 40 of Haunted Spurs

"Well, Moon Goddess..." I murmur, shooting her a wink. "Care to go see our living quarters?"

Her usually pale skin takes on a faint, gorgeous shade of pink on her cheeks.

12

Interesting Stories and Where to Find Them

Ron

The fact that Selene is looking around with so much genuine interest is inflating my ego like crazy. I know, I probably sound like a self-centered, strutting bastard right now, but... I love watching her wander through the halls of my house.

I drop our bags at the foot of the bedroom doorway and just stand there watching her. One shoulder rests against the dark wood trim as I wait for her, already unable to wait to show her our room. If I've figured out even the slightest thing about her... I know she's going to love it.

Right now, though, she’s completely absorbed in the paintings lining the second-floor hallway. I’m pretty sure they’re portraits of the estate’s original owners. Knowing Mayor Nino, there’s a very real chance all the weird junk in this place will eventually end up in some tiny town museum, but for now, the paintings fit the whole macabre vibe perfectly.

"I believe she’s the Scarlet Lady."

I push off the doorframe and move to her side, pointing to the large oil painting she’s staring at as if hypnotized. It portrays a woman with sharp features, pale skin, a cascade of raven-black hair, and a deep red gown.

Selene finally tears her gaze away from the canvas and looks at me instead. She studies me in silence, and since I’m enjoying her full attention way too much... I keep talking.

"Her real name was supposedly Elizabeth Dawes," I explain, lowering my voice. "There are a ton of legends about her in this town."

"I didn’t peg you as the kind of guy who’d be into legends," she murmurs. Her tone isn’t sarcastic for once. It’s neutral, threaded with genuine curiosity.

"Are you kidding? I love that stuff." I grin. "I read all the books and journals in the library downstairs."

She keeps staring at me, looking somewhere between curious and surprised. Maybe both.

"It’s a really interesting story. I got so hooked on it that I even cross-checked everything with the town archives. According to the records, she was Elm Hollow’s first female governor."

"Really?" Her lips part slightly. "And... what do the legends say about her?"

It’s the first time she’s seemed this genuinely interested in talking to me without trying to push me away. And, God, I want her to keep going.

"The one that gets told the most goes like this," I begin, slipping into narrator mode.

"Legend says that a long time ago, around the time Elm Hollow was founded, an unknown, brutal plague hit the town. During that dark period, stories say that paranormal beings roamed the streets and the surrounding houses, bringing death with them. The town founders eventually decided to fight back, launching a ruthless hunt.

The Scarlet Lady was a respectable young woman who lived on the edge of the forest... so I like to think she lived right here in this house. But she ended up falling deeply in love with one of those beings. A cursed creature."

I pause deliberately.

Selene’s index finger traces absentminded patterns along the gilded carvings of the frame, but I know she’s hanging on every word. A smile tugs at my mouth.

"But when the threat was defeated by the townsfolk and her beloved was torn away from her, she was driven mad by grief and threw herself off the highest cliff in the county. Even today, on moonless nights, they say her piercing scream still echoes through the trees out there, joining the wail of her beloved, who is said to be chained forever in a magical crypt."

Silence settles between us, thick and almost suffocating.

"Obviously," I add with a light sigh, breaking the tension, "in the short time I’ve lived here before the reality show, I never heard any screams or felt any presence. But... I kind of love that these dark legends are tied to the place where I live."

Selene turns to look at me. The distance between us has shrunk again, almost without either of us noticing. I can smell her scent again—that cold, orchid-like note that fogs my brain.

“Is that why you decided to buy this ranch?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah... that was a big part of it. I love that there’s history breathing through these walls. And I love the old architecture—it’s got that extra gothic edge I’m drawn to.”

She keeps staring at me like she can see right through me. I’m not telling her this to impress her or show off my taste for darker things... it’s just the truth.