The Haunted House

by Vaughan

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Hi, My name is John and I thought you might like to know how I
met Sally and what happened after that.

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It was early May and the college I was attending had a rag
week, where students, and sometimes lecturers, get involved in
all sorts of stunts to raise money for local charities. I'm
not sure who signed me up for the Charity Challenges Stunt, but I
think it was my roommate. No matter who signed me up, once you
are signed up for something for charity it is difficult to pull
out without seeming misanthropic. So, I turned up at the
appointed time and hoped that I was up to whatever the challenge
was.

The event turned out to be very simple. The rag committee had
got local firms to sponsor a challenge each and the participants
were drawn to fill the teams to perform the challenge. I quite
fancied the three-legged pub-crawl as a challenge, but it was not
to be. Obviously, the easier and more enjoyable challenges were
drawn for first. I was getting quite nervous towards the end;
there were three challenges left entitled: "it's a dog's
life," "Parade king/queen" and "haunted house".
There also four of us left and fortunately Sally and I were drawn
for the haunted house stunt. We were handed an envelope with
details of the challenge, so we opened it. The card inside was
neatly typed and read, "You will enter the haunted house at
sunset and stay there until sunrise. If you come out before
sunrise you forfeit the challenge." I turned the card over
to find out the mundane details. It told us where and when we
were going to be picked up and that the sponsor of the challenge
was René's Joke and Magic Shop.

The challenge was not to happen until the following night, So
we retired to a quiet part of the bar and talked strategy. The
reason for having a pick-up point was to prevent us doing
reconnaissance, we decided, so we thought about what preparations
we could make. I suggested that we put on stuff we did not mind
getting filthy, but she accused me of being defeatist. She said
we should dress up really smart to show we were not afraid and
hand in the dry-cleaning bill to the organizers if the clothes
ended up worse than a normal wearing. I had to agree that she
seemed to taking the challenge with spirit, but not to be out-done,
I suggested that I would wear a dinner suit if she wore an
evening gown. She was delighted by the idea. Our thoughts then
turned to what kind of stuff we might expect find in a haunted
house. We agreed that René's had probably supplied a
vanload of out of date and surplus stock and some sub-committee
would have set up the house with trip-wires and triggers for the
usual range of tricks. Fake cobwebs, plastic scorpions and
glowing skeletons all were suggested as probable scares, but we
thought that was a bit tame, so I suggested that tomorrow
afternoon we would rest so that we were bright and alert the
following night. We then decided that we had better take some
food, because we were unlikely to find a working phone to order
pizza. Conversation turned to ourselves and we talked for about
an hour, before the bar closed and we went our separate ways to
our digs.

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Four O'clock the next day I arrived at the pick-up point
wearing black trousers and jacket, white ruffle fronted shirt,
black bow-tie and polished black shoes. I was carrying a small
knapsack with the makings of a small picnic. The organizers seemed moderately impressed, until we all saw Sally, then they
were very impressed. She wore an off-the-shoulder green satin
dress, that accentuated the proportions of her excellent figure,
a wispy shawl over her shoulders, elbow-length white gloves and
green satin shoes, she looked a knockout. She was carrying a
small purse and a bottle of champagne.

"What's the champagne for?" I asked.

"I thought we ought to have something to celebrate when
we come out at sunrise. A sort of champagne breakfast at the end
of our first date." She smiled. I blushed because I had not
thought of the night as a date.

The organizers had borrowed a van to take us to the "haunted"
house. We were bundled into the back and were soon on our way.

----------

An hour later, we were deposited at the end of a gravel
driveway and told that the haunted house was up the drive. We
were also told that the place was rigged for video surveillance
so they would know if we did not go in before sunset, in an hour
and a half, and if we left before sunrise. Finally they gave us a
page of closely typed stuff entitled 'The Story of René's
Mansion' telling us that we should read it. At last they
left, presumably to join the rest of the challenge organizers in
running the night's frights.

Sally took the sheet of paper from my hand and read it as we
strolled the quarter mile through some woods to the rather
dilapidated looking mansion. The place was vast, the kind of
place that is readily converted into an hotel or health farm, but
it had an atmosphere of not welcoming strangers. The whole
building looked uncared for, as if no one had done anything to it
for, perhaps, twenty years. It also gave me a feeling that it had
looked splendid in its heyday and could again.

I asked Sally what she had read about the place. She described
the usual tale. It once belonged to a moderately famous magician
called René Plustard (pronounced ploo-tarr). When he reached
fifty, he became obsessed with mortality, so he gave up
magicianing and started to research the occult in a vain attempt
to preserve his life. We know it was vain, because on this very
day twenty-three years ago he died; his body was found on the
following day by his only remaining servant. Since that day the
place has been unoccupied, because nobody having entered before
sunset was still there and alive the following sunrise. The text
gave examples of those who had died on their first night and
others who had abandoned the mansion in the small hours of the
morning swearing that they would never return. I seemed that the
place was still owned by distant relatives who also owned René's
Joke and Magic Shop.

Our consideration of this legend was interrupted by a headless
horseman. The horse and rider galloped round the corner and came
to a halt in front of us in a shower of gravel, as we sat on the
steps. He discharged his pistol, threw a rock at us and then
galloped off into the woods. The effect was some-what spoiled by
the horse rearing as it entered the wood and unseating the rider,
who got up pulled the costume down so his head was visible and
ran after the horse yelling abuse. I retrieved the rock and found
it was wrapped in a reminder that we were to enter the house
before sunset. We laughed and approached the door.

The paint was peeling from the door, which had been cream and
maroon. The handle and the keyhole were corroded quite badly, but
from the keyhole stuck a brightly polished brass key. We tried
the door, but it would not budge, so I touched the key and got an
electric shock. Some bright spark had wired up the key. I swore,
then quickly apologized to Sally. She took and turned the key,
then opened the door; wearing gloves, she did not get a shock.

I lead the way in and reached into my jacket pocket to bring
out the torch I had thought to bring, only to find that it was no
longer there. It seemed that one of our escorts was a talented
thief. I made a mental note to ask for it back. When Sally had
entered and we were both about two paces from the door, slammed
shut and the bolt seemed to shoot into place. I assumed that
there was some mundane explanation, but it made both of us jump.

"You alright, Sally?" I asked solicitously.

"OK, but the door shutting by itself made me jump."

I admitted that it took me by surprise. I told her it was
probably done with wires. "Let's get some light,
because its going to be dark in here soon and some so-and-so
pilfered my torch," I concluded. She pointed out a light
switch next to a table with a pair of candlesticks stood upon it.
Once bitten, twice shy, I drew my hand into my jacket sleeve
before attempting the brass faced light-switch. Instead of the
expected nothing, there was a bright flash of light and a loud
pop. When the purple after-images had cleared, the entrance hall
we were in was getting darker quite rapidly. I stuck a candle in
one of the candlesticks and lit it with a match from the book of
matches that had also been provided. I handed the second candle
stick to Sally, but dropped the other three candles and the
matches into my pocket.

"What's this for?" enquired Sally, gesturing
with the empty candlestick. "Don't I get a candle?"

"Look, we have four candles and I don't think they'll
last more than four hours each, so we had better burn only one at
time if we want to have light until dawn. So I thought you might
want something to protect yourself in case the ghoulies get a bit
frisky," I explained trying to take the leadership role.

In the flickering light of the single candle we looked at the
entrance hall. A wide staircase lead up into the gloom of
upstairs and two large, closed doors lead to our right and left.
Above the stairs was a huge glass domed skylight, so grimed by
the years that it let in little of the rapidly diminishing
daylight. On the wall up the stairs were great dark rectangles
that had once been somber portraits and on the wall beside us
another dark rectangle that was a much corroded mirror. I looked
at the dust on the floor, which showed three obvious trails from
the door we had come through, one to the foot of the stairs and
one each to the large doors.

"Where do you fancy?" I asked Sally, "Left,
right or upstairs?" indicating the exits as I spoke of them.
"I assume you would rather not stay here."

"What about over there?" replied Sally, pointing at
a door under the sweep of the stairs. A quick check of the floor
revealed that only a single set of footprints in the dust lead to
and from the small door. Closer to the door we could tell that
whoever's footmarks they were had not gone though the door,
but just check the door was locked and returned. The door had a
padlock and hasp on it. I tried the door only to find that it was
not locked other than the padlock.

"OK, Miss Clever. First, why this door? And secondly, how
are we going to get through?"

Her explanation was immediately forthcoming, "Let's
see, you, of course, noticed the heavy traffic that has been
through here lately." I nodded. "And this is the only
way out of this hallway that is not going to lead us to whatever
freaky happenings they have planned. As to how; here's the
key." She reached up to the top of the doorframe and brought
down a small slightly rusty key. She placed it in the palm of my
hand. I hand her the candlestick and tried the key in the padlock,
which opened with a quiet snick.

Amazed, I asked, "How did you know that was there?"
Sally smiled and looked puzzled. "Never mind that, we now
have a fourth option, should we take it? What if it's
dangerous down there?"

"Are you getting cold feet?" She jeered, "Down
there we won't find any spooky lighting, plastic skeletons
or students with sheets over their heads. And if, as we surmise,
no one's been down there in years, we are bound to find
somewhere quiet and cozy to spend the night. And wouldn't
you like to know you faced a real unknown instead of a faked
student supplied unknown. And finally, John, as we will be the
first down there, there might be some working light-bulbs that
haven't been gimmicked." By that time I was sold on the
idea.

"Do you want me to lead?" I asked.

Sally handed me the candle and said, "Lead on MacDuff."
I opened the door and looked inside. There was indeed a stairway
leading down. The first few steps seemed to be wood but beyond
that they seemed to be cut from stone and looked dry. I stepped
gingerly onto the first step, which creaked alarmingly, but held.
I continued until I stood on the first stone step. I then invited
Sally to join me. With the same care and distressing creaking
Sally made her way to me. We could now see down the remaining
steps, they were made of stone and seemed a little polished from
the wear of feet over many years. The stairway lead down about
twenty steps to a flat area with a door on either side.
Cautiously we continued down the steps. When we had reached the
bottom, we examined the doors. One door, the one that showed most
use from bygone years was definitely locked, but the other swung
open.

Beyond was an open area that our candle failed to illuminate
at all. We stepped in tentatively and found a matte black floor,
but anything else was a mystery. Sally looked beside the door and
found a light switch and flicked it. The sudden burst of light
was momentarily blinding. As we became accustomed to the light
level we saw a forest of cabinets, boxes and tables and away in
the distance was a clearing and a mirrored wall. The mirrors
seemed to be as clear as the day they were made, in stark
contrast to the one in the entrance hall.

"This must be where René Plustard put all his props into
storage, like it said in the story and I suppose he used that
area over there to practice and keep his hand in." Sally
surmised.

"Well, whatever it was used for, I bet if he came down
here at all often there's some heat as well as light. I
reckon, if we can find it, we hole up here until sunrise and then
emerge triumphant." I proposed.

"Just what I was thinking. Now you go and shut the door
at the top of the steps and then we shut this one. That way we
delay our 'frightful' friends from disturbing us." She
smirked.

I saw the merit in her plan and crept up the steps and shut
the top door and rapidly returned. As was shutting the second
door I noticed it already felt warmer.

"Look what I found." Sally called, "the heating
seemed to be very good considering it is more than twenty years
old."

"I think I could enjoy tonight after all." I hefted
my knapsack and commented, "I brought a picnic, do you want
it now or would you like to explorer the magical kit that seems
to be lying about."

"I think we should hold off on the food until we are
hungry, so let's check out the gear."

We wandered among the beautifully preserved magical props,
opening cabinet doors and poking about. After a while I got bored
of trying to figure out what the props were for. I found a prop I
recognized so I moved it towards the open area near the mirror.
It moved smoothly and was followed by a small trolley that had
been tied to it. When I reached the clear area, Sally looked up
and asked what I had found.

"This is a sawing in half box," I said, proud to
display some knowledge that she seemed to lack.

"But, isn't that a bit small?" she asked,
"I thought they were bigger than that."

"They used to be, but now-a-days illusionists use thin
boxes like this."

"Oh. How does it work?" She asked.

"Get in and I'll show you. I'll even tell you
what to do." I offered, opening the lids of the box. The box
was lined with red leather.

"You're not getting me in a box, John. Any way, if
its so easy why don't you get in and let me do the sawing,
unless you're chicken."

Being careful not to spoil the finish of the leather, and
stepped onto the low table. I then lowered myself until I was
sitting in the bottom end of the box. Sally came over and opened
the top of the wheeled box that came with the table.

"What's in here?" She asked. She picked out the
items one at a time. There were two stocks, two flat blades with
handles and a large handsaw. She brought up both sets of stocks
and asked where they went.

I took one set and eased them into the end of the box, once I
had shifted a bit they fitted comfortably around the bottoms of
my shins. "That goes there," I pointed out. "I
think this was made for someone with smaller feet. They're a
bit tight. I won't find it easy to..."

"Whoa! Stop right there!" Sally interrupted, "I
don't know how this is done, and I don't really want to
know. So cut-out the running commentary and just tell me what I
should be doing!"

"OK. Help me lie back!" I instructed. As I lay back
my jacket began to get in the way, So I asked Sally to help me
back up so I could take it off. She went to hang it up.

As she came back, she said, "You had better tuck you
shirt out of the way. You know, bare you mid-riff. I don't
want to ruin your shirt."

I began to protest that I would be out of the way, but she
reached over and put her finger to my lips and said, "Hush!
I'm not supposed to know how this is done, so humor me!"

Grumbling, I untucked my shirt from my trousers and rolled it
up to my lowest rib. "That's a good set of tummy
muscles," she commented, "Do you work out?"

"No," I admitted, "But I do run regularly."

"Now, I help you lie down, right?"

"Yes." Soon I was laid out in the box. I discovered
that the padding was contoured and fitted me surprisingly well. I
only hoped there was going to be enough room to pull up my legs
when it came to it.

Sally started to insert the neckpiece, then notice that it had
more than just the neck cut out. She reached into the box and
guided my left arm into so that my wrist was next to my neck. I
brought up my right arm, and then she completed pushing the
stocks into place. My head now rested on a bit of padding with my
hands either side of it.

"Now close and lock the lids," I instructed. She
flipped the lid of the bottom half and I flinched. She
considerately lowered the lid of the upper section into place.

"How do I lock the lids? ... Oh, that's simple!"
She murmured as she turned the catches.

Sally picked the saw and twanged it, producing what to me
sounded disturbingly like the twanging of a real saw. "Are
you ready?"

"Not yet," I quickly replied. "Give me a few
moments to get ready and then carefully insert the saw into the
gap between the two sections. Saw with the saw as flat as
possible and saw slowly. When you reach the bottom of the box,
take out the saw and put those blades into the guide slots by the
end of the halves, then unclip the two halves and pull the bottom
away from the top."

"Is that all?" she asked teasingly.

"Well, I have some stuff to do. You can remember all that?"

"I'll ask if I get stuck."

I saw her start to mentally count. I knew I did not have much
time, so I tried to pull my ankles in, but they would not come.

Sally raised the saw and called, "Ready or not here I
come."

I wanted to tell her that I was not ready, but found I could
not speak. I thought of trying to signal I was not ready, but I
could not think of a signal that I could give with feet hands or
head, that would not be interpreted as encouragement. I lay there
and hoped that Sally would feel my body under the blade and not
start sawing. I hoped I could trust her that far.

Sally carefully lined up the saw with the slot between the two
lids. She pushed the blade down until it was resting across my
bared navel. I'm sure that, if I had not had my outlook
fogged by panic, I could have counted the number of saw-teeth
that were touching my flesh. She looked satisfied, if slightly
worried at finding something there to saw. I had not said to stop,
so she carried on. Gently at first and then with more vigor Sally
began the sawing motion. I could feel the saw teeth
tracking across my skin, in the same way as you might feel the
same teeth if ran your thumb down the blade with no pressure,
except of course, the flesh of my belly was not meant for this
sort of thing. As the sawing motion continued, the number of
teeth I felt along the line of the supposed cut increased, but
the agony I expected to feel was not happening. I came to the
conclusion that Sally was just running the saw back and forth
across my belly. Suddenly, the feel of teeth across my belly
disappeared only to be quickly replaced by the sensation of the
teeth running across the back of my waist, this quickly changed
my mind, from Sally teasing me with the saw to the saw being
gimmicked somehow. This was quite a relief, because it removed
the possibility that Sally might start sawing in earnest. I
breathed a sigh and realized that I had been holding my breath.

Sally looked at me and smiled. "There we are," she
commented as she withdrew the saw from the narrow gap between the
halves of the box. She put on a puzzled expression, "Now for
the blades, right?" she asked rhetorically.

I gave her a wan smile very much hoping that the blades were
gimmicked the same way the saw was. She slapped one of the blades
on the top of the part with my head and hands sticking out,
making a short-lived breeze that moved my hair. From my angle the
blade looked disturbingly too solid. She lined up the other blade
in the lower half's guide slot and started to push it firmly
into the box. I felt the edge of the blade, which in common with
its twin was three sixteenths of an inch thick, press just below
my navel. There was no pain, but the pressure felt as if it was
pushing the blade into my abdomen. The pressure increased and
Sally turned to see me gritting my teeth, she flashed me a
worried smile enough to make me relax a bit. Suddenly, the
pressure vanished as the blade finally went fully into the box. A
quick glance sideways at the mirrored wall showed me that the
leading edge of the blade had emerged from the under side of the
low table. For a moment I marveled at the ingenuity of the makers
of this box. While my mind wandered on this thought, Sally picked
up the blade resting on the lid and pushed that though the gap
between the boxes until the underside of its handle also rested
on the lid.

She looked slightly disappointed. "That was too easy,"
she remarked.

"What do you mean 'too easy'?" I asked,
wondering what she was talking about.

"You know, every time I've seen this done on tele,
the upper blade gets stuck and the magician gives the victim's
head a tug so that it drops into place."

"Oh. Is that all?" I said, "If I'd known I
could have done that, but it's too late now." I was a
little anxious about her use of the word 'victim' and I
wanted to get this over as soon as possible.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," she announced, playing
to the mirror, "to prove that my charming assistant and
companion, John, has truly been divided into two separate parts I
shall now pull the two halves apart." She took two quick
steps to my feet and pulled. To my relief the whole table wheeled
towards her. She instantly blushed the prettiest shade of pink.
"I'm so embarrassed, I forgot to undo the clips that
hold the two halves together."

It was the work of moments to undo the clips that held the
half of the table under my ankles from the half most of my torso
lay on. With a pose and a shout of "Voila!" she made a
second attempt to pull the two halves of the table apart.

This time, to my horror, the lower half rolled smoothly away
from the upper half until there was a foot of empty space between
the two dividing blades. This gap did not remain empty for long,
because Sally started hamming it up and stepped into the
emptiness between the two halves. She theatrically indicated my
head and hands and then what I was hoping were fake feet.

She came between the boxes and the mirror and examined the
sides of the box. With a disappointed glance at me she turned the
leg section around and examined the mirror-ward side.

"How are we meant to see what we have done if there aren't
opening panels in the side of the boxes?" she asked in an
offended tone of voice.

"Isn't it enough that you've just turned my
legs around relative to the rest of me?" I retorted.

"Umm.... I suppose so, but how do I know you have really
been cut in two?"

"How should I know? I can't truly say I'm
convinced either," I said, twitching my feet side to side
and seeing, via the mirror, the shoes protruding from the other
box respond in the correct manner.

I went white.

"What is it, John? You look terrified."

Stammering I said, "I think you have really sawn me in
two."

"You're pulling my leg."

"Check my feet, if you don't believe me."

Warily, she approached my feet. I kept them still. She took
hold of my left shoe and pulled it off as if she were afraid that
the whole foot might come off in her hand. The foot remained in
place sheathed in a black cotton sock. Cautiously, Sally touched
my foot so I wiggled it.

She jumped back with a squeal.

"How are you doing that?" she asked, obviously in
the hope I would tell her that the feet were remote control
models. Sadly, I had to disappoint her.

"I felt you touch my foot so I wiggled it. If I knew
exactly how it was done, I would make a fortune as a magician or
maybe as Nobel prize winning neuro-physicist with a cure for
severed limbs."

She looked a little frightened. "You mean I really cut
you into two pieces? I didn't mean to."

"The stocks were so tight that I couldn't pull my
feet in, and when you started to saw it felt like the saw was
gimmicked so I let you carry on, because it didn't hurt.
When the blades went in it felt odd but it wasn't painful.
It wasn't until you had turned the bottom half round that I
realized what had really happened," I explained.

"So, I really cut you in half, across your waist?"

"Yes, right across my belly button, I think," I said
and we both laughed at the ridiculously improbable situation.

"So, what happens next?"

"Let me think. In every story I've ever read about
this kind of thing, the male magician tickles the female sawee
into submission and then restores her, by taking out the blades
and opening the box."

"Ok, let's do it!" she said approaching my feet
arms extended.

"I agree, but you can leave out the tickling part because
I'm not in the least ticklish."

She made a brief attempt at tickling me, but getting no
reaction gave up. She started lifting the blade on the upper half
of the box. In panic I yelled, "Stop!"

She froze. "You said, 'Take out the blades',
and besides I wanted to see what your severed ends looked like."

"You've got to put the halves back together. You don't
know what is behind the blade; it might have spilled my guts
across the floor," I pointed out. She turned a little green
at the thought.

Lining up the two parts of the equipment was not as easy as I
had hoped, because the wheels seemed to refuse to run in the
right direction, but eventually the table was clipped together.

I told her to take out the blades now. She paused and asked
how I knew I was going to be my whole self.

"Umm. I don't know that I will become whole, when
the blades are removed, but I do know that I can't get
myself back together again if the stay there."

"OK, Here goes. It's your funeral if this doesn't
work," she said in all seriousness.

She firmly held both blade handles and smoothly extracted them.
The feeling as they departed from my cross-section was of having
the edge of the blades dragged across the skin about my waist,
starting in the middle of my back and going in both directions
round my body and meeting again at my navel. I could not tell if
my middle had re-joined, but I sincerely hoped it had. Sally
leaned over the box to undo the locks holding the lids down and
opened up the lids. The cooler air of the room rushed in and felt
marvelous and refreshing after being confined in the box.

Sally looked into the box and seemed so relieved that I knew
that there were no loose ends of intestine or similar, but I
still was not sure that I was in a single piece yet. She reached
over and released the ankle stocks and then the stocks holding my
neck and wrists. When my hands were released I reached down to
feel the area that had so recently been divided. I was surprised
and shocked to find that I could tell in the skin of my abdomen
when my fingertips passed over the line of the cut, but my
fingers could feel no difference. I was, at least, obvious that I
was whole. I stood up and stepped out of the box and then onto
the floor. I took a look at myself in the mirror and noticed what
had given Sally pause; my navel instead of being the round pucker
that it had before was now quite distinctly oval as if it had
been pulled out of shape.

As I stood there checking all my parts off against the mental
catalogue, I thought I heard a single person clapping. We both
looked around, but there was no one there. I told Sally to stay
near the mirror, while I went to the light switch near the door.
I switched off the light plunging us in pitch-blackness in the
hope that this would reveal a one-way mirror, but it did not.
What it did reveal made me turn the light back on double quick.

What I saw and, from her reaction, Sally saw too, was a
faintly luminous figure in a white jacket and trousers. When the
lights came back on it was still there. The faint, transparent
figure of a white suited old man, he was still applauding. Sally
took a hurried step backward and almost fell into the sawing in
half box. The figure turned to look at Sally and made a movement
that looked like offering his hand to help Sally from her
undignified position. Sally, unnerved climbed clumsily out of the
other side of the box and I came back to the clear area to see
what could be causing this apparition.

He stood with his feet on the floor looking slightly offended
as I performed a circuit of this unexplained spirit materialization.

Having viewed the transparent figure from every conceivable
angle, I stood in front of it and, feeling idiotic, asked, "Who
are you?"

Sally, with tones of contempt, said, "You're not
going to try talking to this fake ghost, are you?"

"Well, yes," I said. Then feeling more rational, I
added, "You see, we know that the organizers haven't
been here, so if it's a fake ghost it must be someone else's
fake and there is the possibility that it might be a real ghost.
We won't know unless we ask."

The ghost seemed to reach into its jacket pocket and bring out
a faint notepad and pencil.

"What's it doing, John?" Sally asked.

"I think it wants to tell us something," I suggested.
The ghost nodded agreement.

The apparition scribbled with its pencil on the paper and the
held it up. It had written, "Hello, I am René Plustard. I
like you."

"So, you're the ghost of the magician who used to
own this place?" Sally asked.

He nodded.

"So, is it you who has been scaring people away or to
death?" She asked further.

He nodded sadly, flipped the page on the pad and wrote, "I
did not mean to kill anyone, but accidents happen."

To cut a long story short, René described how his obsession
with mortality had blinded him to the truth that his only shot at
immortality was through the illusions he had invented. On the day
before his death he had realized the truth and re-written his
will, so that he could pass on his knowledge and equipment onto
someone he liked and respected, who would also keep his heritage
alive. He had died on the way down to the room we now stood in,
having decided that he had better maintain the equipment for his
successor. The will still stood and specified that the holder or
holders of the keys to his safe-deposit box, were to receive his
entire estate on the sole condition that who ever it was use a
reasonable portion to help out his descendants, if necessary. He
had been haunting the house since to prevent any unscrupulous
people he did not like from properly searching the place and
perhaps accidentally finding the keys. He had spent the rest of
the time keeping dust and insects away from his treasured
illusion props.

"I want to make you two an offer," he wrote, "If
you can do an original piece of magic on your girlfriend, I will
tell you where the keys are, so you can inherit my estate."

Sally was immediately up in arms at the deal, while I wondered
if trusting a ghost of a dead magician was a good idea.

The pencil moved across the faintly visible paper, leaving the
message, "I'll go and scare away the rest of the
company, while you discuss it." He walked calmly between the
cabinets and through the closed door that lead to the bottom of
the stairs.

We had a heated discussion about what we should do. Sally did
not like the idea of having me do some magic to her. She was
insistent that she was not going to remove her dress for anyone
and she did not want it damaged either. My point of view, since I
quite fancied the idea, was that if we refused René would scare
us out or to death, but if we agreed we might get this
inheritance thing and even if the ghost was lying, what is there
to lose.

The argument went back and forth until Sally was finally worn
down and agreed to give it a try. She set some tough conditions
which were that whatever we ended up doing she would not have to
remove her dress and it would not get damaged. I had to agree to
these last sticking points and hoped that I could find an
illusion that met her stipulations. I was also slightly worried
by the originality stipulation that René had made, suspecting
that he know all the illusions like old friends and it would take
something rather special to be counted original.

Once we had made our pact, we decided to eat the picnic I had
brought. While we were clearing up the crumbs, René returned and
immediately started scribbling in his phantom notepad. He waved
the note under my nose. It said, "You'll find a broom
in the cupboard. Crumbs attract vermin."

Obedient to his implied wish Sally and I swept up all evidence
of our meal and returned it to my backpack. When Mr. Plustard was
satisfied with the cleaning up and I had returned the box in
which I had been sawn in half to its place, he asked us if we had
come to a decision about his offer.

We told him that we agreed in principal, but were not ready.
He wrote, "Any time before dawn will do. This appearing
visibly is very tiring. I shall disappear now. When you are ready
whistle and I will watch what you have to offer." Just as we
finished reading that, magician, pad and pencil vanished from
sight.

"You're the one who knows all about magic, find us
something to do," said Sally. She went and sat on a chair,
which I am sure would have caused her to vanish if I had the
courage to throw the sheet, that lay folded beside it, over her.
That, of course, would have lost me my assistant, because I had
not the faintest glimmering of an idea of how I might get her
back.

During my hunt through the superbly preserved cabinets and
boxes, I found a mis-made woman cabinet, with additional
instructions for restacking with some sections inverted; a sword
box, of the kind where the victim sits in the box with their head
through a hole in the top and lots of swords are thrust into the
box, in this case thirty-two; divisions into three and six; a
vertical sawing in half box; and lots of stuff that I just could
not even guess at without several days examination and a willing
assistant to try it on. In my hunting I also found two large
wardrobe trunks. The first one was full of male magician type
clothes, from the ultra-formal jacket and tie, like I was wearing,
right though the range to shredded tee-shirts and distressed
jeans. In addition, there were six top hats, three bowler hats, a
small forest of assorted canes and several robes, like medieval
wizards might have worn. The second, and larger, trunk contained
all the paraphernalia and costumes a female magician's
assistant could possibly need. The number and variety of costumes
in that trunk was bewildering. The number of one pieces and
leotards was astounding. The dresses covered every period of the
twentieth century and the costumes covered more, right back to a
cave woman costume. The costumes would have easily stock a fancy
dress shop, with devils, harem girls, mermaids and even a nun's
habit. Sally came over and purred over the amazing quantity and
quality of this collection, but she still insisted that she would
not change for the illusion, we were to perform. I noticed her
eye was caught by bejeweled bikini set, which had a skirt
consisting of strings of beads that sparkled like diamonds.

After I had done a complete circuit of the store, the only
illusions I found that I thought I could get Sally to approve
were the dagger vanishing head box, one of two guillotines and
the disembodied princess. She objected to the vanishing head,
because she would not be able to see what was happening and I was
unable to assure her that advantage would not be taken while her
head was elsewhere. Similar problems scuppered the guillotine,
but I was rather glad of that as I had found three coded
positions for the stocks, when I thought that there were only
meant to be two, and I could not fathom what they did. That left
only the disembodied princess, which I promised was safe and
would not do anything to harm her precious dress, but I was
determinedly vague about what actually happened.

After a quick inspection I found the two blades and the panels
for the cabinet, but I could not find the panels for the head
section and I knew if Sally saw what was coming, she would find
some way of backing out. Looking round, I found a large white
plastic bucket that would do the job and under these lights it
would also be evident if she ducked her head.

I felt I had all I needed, equipment-wise and if I delayed any
more Sally would get cold feet.

I wheeled and carried the cabinet and props to the space in
front of the mirror and told Sally to stand-by. I then whistled a
come-here whistle, which sounded out of place in this quiet and
secluded room. I was about to pierce the silence again, when the
shade of Mr. Plustard materialized. He had a pre-written note
asking where we want our audience to view from. I went to the
chair that Sally had sat on and dragged it to the corner of the
cleared area, so we could play the illusion to him and to
ourselves in the mirror. He seemed satisfied. I quickly realized
why. His position gave him a view of the front and nearer sides
of the illusion and via the mirror the other side too. The only
part he could not see was the back.

The cabinet consisted of only a base with most of a frame on
it, but no panels in place. The frame was an upright edge to a
rectangle just over five feet above the base; on this top part of
the frame stood a smaller frame that would accommodate a person's
head, and about eighteen inches above the base the two sides and
the back were crossed by a bracing piece of framework. The rest
of the panels and blades were in a tidy pile leaning against an
another illusion cabinet along with the white bucket.

I addressed our audience of one. "I would say 'Ladies
and gentlemen,' but I only see a gentleman so if you will
forgive the impertinence." He nodded. "René, I wish to
present for the first time on any stage, or rehearsal room, my
version of that classic illusion 'the disembodied princess.'"

I struck an introductory pose directing my viewers attention
towards Sally. "As princesses are much rarer than they were
in the olden days, I could not find one at the short notice
required for this performance. Fortunately for all concerned, I
managed to secure the assistance of Miss Sally Philips, who,
while not a full-blooded princess, is going to stand in. As you
can see she dressed for the occasion, in a beautiful full-length
off-the-shoulder ball gown in green satin, which I have promised
that I would not damage."

I temporarily directed my attention to Sally and indicated
that she should step onto the base. Guiding her, I positioned her
centrally within the frame and helped her put her head into the
smaller head frame. Sally whispered to me, "Stop hamming it
up! You might put him off."

I whispered back, "Thanks for the advice, but I think I
know what I'm doing." Turning back to Mr. Plustard, I
said, "As you can see, Sally is now stood in the frame of a
cabinet. It is my intention that she remain there for the rest of
the illusion." I picked up two short panels with semi-circular
cutouts at their ends. I slid one in from the left and the other
from the right. The two pieces slid effortlessly down the track
on the frame, meeting around Sally's neck. I adjusted her
hair so that it was not trapped between and then using a padlock
that I had found I locked the two parts together.

I asked Sally to try to get her head out. She said, "You
know I can't."

I whispered back, "Try for the look of the thing."

She made some pretense at attempting an escape, but really
without chopping her head off she was not going to get free
without the key, which I carefully dropped into my rear trouser
pocket.

The next thing I put on the frame was the back panel, which
was gorgeously decorated with a Chinese dragon in gold on the
classical red, the other side was plain matte black. I showed
this panel, front and back, to René before hanging it on the
pair of small pegs on the back of the frame, where it rested
forming a superb contrast to Sally's dress and her pale skin,
from knee to neck. The side panels, likewise decorated in
oriental style, were displayed and positioned in similar manner,
enclosing my not entirely willing assistant on three sides. I
pointed out this apparently obvious fact to our onlooker. Before
putting the front in place, I told Sally that she should make a
noise using her body. When asked how, I suggested she should clap
or snap her fingers. She opted to snap her fingers, which was
ideal, as it did not prevent us hearing each other.

"It is obvious," I stated, "that my hapless
assistant should not see what is about to transpire, but I could
not find the small panels for the frame over her head. So, I had
to improvise and this is what I came up with." I hefted the
white polythene bucket and quickly placed it over Sally's
head. There was a squawk of protest from under the bucket.

"Can you hear me, in there?" I asked. The protest
continued. "I will take it off in a minute. If you want to
say something speak clearly," I instructed.

"What are you doing?" asked my captive date,
enunciating every word.

"I'm just getting on with the trick. You have
nothing to worry about." I lifted one of the blades, when I
realized that pushing it into place just above her knees would
spoil her dress.

"Sally, I've got a problem. I need you to raise the
skirt of your dress."

"Why? Don't you think you've embarrassed me
enough?" she asked.

"Well, I could continue as you are, but your dress might
get caught," I threatened.

Sally's stance changed a bit and the hem of her dress
began to rise, revealing, to my relief, bare legs. "Tell me
when to stop!" said the voice echoing under the bucket.

When the bottom edge of the skirt was above the bottom edge of
the cabinet, I said, "Great, hold it there. You've got
a very nice pair of legs." I ran a finger down the back of
left calf and she kicked out with it to make me stop.

I located the blade in the slot and ran it in until it touched
her leg.

She shouted, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Don't worry, the sooner I get this done, the sooner
I take that cover off your head." I pushed against the
resistance, it was like pushing a blunt knife though hard cheese,
then suddenly for a moment there was no resistant and just as
quickly more resistance. When the resistance reduced a second
time, I continued to push on the handle of the blade until the
leading edge had emerged several inches beyond the other side of
the cabinet.

"You can leave go of your skirts now. I've finished
down there now," I told Sally.

"You had me worried. You are wicked to tease me round my
legs with the edge of a blade. So, what happens now? What do I do
now?" she asked.

"I've got a bit more to do, so just wait," I
told her. "In fact you can go back to snapping your fingers,"
I added.

I picked up the second blade and slotted it into cabinet just
below the panels holding her neck in place. There was a steady
rhythm of snaps coming from body of the box. I took what courage
and strength I had slammed the blade along the track through the
cabinet and Sally's slim neck.

There was a sudden silence, the like of which I hope never to
hear again. It was compounded of the stopping of the clicking
fingers inside and the lack of anything positive to take its
place. The five seconds of this terrible silence felt like about
three lifetimes of guilt end to end.

The deathly hush was broken when a voice from under the bucket
said, "John, what's happened to my fingers? I can't
feel or hear them."

I could have kissed and hugged her for the rest of the night,
except, of course, she was in a situation that prevented it. I
whipped off the bucket and kissed her on the end of the nose.

"What was that for?" she asked, not unreasonably.

"I'm just overjoyed. I thought for a moment, when
you went quiet, that I had done something wrong. Now shall I get
on with the rest of the trick?"

She looked puzzled, "What do you mean the rest of the
trick? You've hardly started. If you think tickling my knees
and neck with a blade is some kind of trick, I'm not at all
impressed."

I responded, "I think you'll be more impressed in a
little while."

"OK, how long must I stand here looking stupid for your
entertainment?" she asked.

"I'll open the front and find out." I removed
the front panel, which had a oriental execution scene painted on
it, and peeked round the edge. While what I saw was what I hoped
to see, I was astounded and it took me another moment to remember
that we had an audience, who we should be entertaining. "Now,
sir, for your delight and amusement, I shall show you what has
happened to the charming Sally." I pulled away the front
panel to expose the empty inside of the cabinet.

"What have you done?" asked Sally, because she could
not see from her angle what had happened.

"I've disappeared your body from neck to knee,"
I replied.

"You what...?" she screamed. I was surprised that
she could possibly yell so loud, with her lungs vanished. Even,
René winced at the volume.

"Give me a moment and I'll show you."

I swiftly removed the remaining three panels from around the
vacant center of the frame. From the bottom was the base on which
stood Sally's feet, ankles, calves and knees, then there was
a gap until Sally's neck and head. I took a sword I had
spotted and waved it inexpertly in the space where the absence of
Sally was. Sally's foot was tapping and her face was the
very embodiment of impatience, so I turned the whole assembly on
the small wheels under the base so that she could get a good look
in the mirrored wall at the situation I had engineered.

"So, where's my body?" Sally asked.

"Vanished," I said and waved the sword through the
thin air between the blades.

"Why can't I feel my body? Where has it gone?"

"How should I know. I'm not a real magician. I just
went through the motions and let the magic happen."

"So, what has happened to my dress? You didn't ruin
it I hope."

"It would make sense that it vanished too. And I don't
know what state it is in. How could I? I did get you to raise it
so that the blade would not touch it, just in case." It was
then what I hoped was an original idea struck me. I smiled and
said, "I supposed we could try to find out."

She saw my smile and asked, "John, what are you going to
do now? You've had an idea and I don't think I'm
going to like it."

"Don't worry it won't hurt and I'll try
not to embarrass you much more than I already have. So, just hang
in there and go with the flow."

I turned to Mr. Plustard and asked if he would mind moving so
that my assistant could get a view as well as the audience. He
stood and indicated that I should move the chair to wherever I
wanted him. I dragged the chair to the mirror, but seeing René
wince, I lifted most of the way. I placed the chair with its back
to the mirror and he resumed his seat. I then fussed a bit
positioning the cabinet frame and Sally's remaining parts in
such a way that she had an unobstructed view in the mirror of
what I was going to do.

I carefully replaced the back panel and both side panels onto
the frame. I then went to the female wardrobe and took out the
bejeweled and bead beskirted bikini that Sally had been so taken
by. I returned to the open front of the cabinet. With care I
arranged the bikini bottoms on the blade just above her knees so
that the leg holes lined up with where her legs would have been
and the strings of sparkly beads I fanned out from the waist band,
making sure that they were not tangled. The bikini top was a bit
more difficult to arrange, but the stones on made it just stiff
enough. I did up the catch at the back of the bikini top and
carefully stood it in the correct orientation on the bikini
bottoms. René seemed to be curious as to what I was up to, so he
came and had a look. He seemed satisfied but puzzled as he went
back to his seat.

I picked up the front panel and held it in place in front of
the cabinet, instead of hanging it on the frame's pegs. When
I had the front balanced, I made what I hoped would pass for a
mystical hand gesture and said, with a confidence I did not feel,
"Presto change-O!"

I moved front panel away and everyone in that room was
surprised. Sally and René were surprised at what they saw. I was
surprised that it had worked. What they saw was that the shiny
bikini had disappeared and in its place stood Sally's Ball
Gown, without Sally in it. The dress stood there for about five
seconds and then gently slumped to the side of the cabinet.

I reached into the space between Sally's knees and neck
to remove the dress. As I dragged it out I was slightly surprised
when a strapless bra and a pair panties fell to the floor.
Fortunately, Sally did not notice these or she might have given
me a harder time, but René noticed and gave me the most
outrageous wink. I held up the dress and challenged her to find a
thread out of place.

Before she could properly think about what I had done, I
replaced the front panel of the cabinet and pulled out the blade
that I had pushed through her neck.

"I can feel my body," she observed excitedly. After
a moment she asked, "I'm wearing that bikini, aren't
I?"

"Just you watch this," I said and slowly extracted
the lower blade. As the blade withdrew the strings of beads fell
shimmering from the cabinet about her legs. I quickly unhung the
panels to expose the bikini-clad Sally to full view. The magician's
ghost was applauding audibly, while I pulled out the key,
released the panels that held her neck in place and helped her
step down from the base onto the smooth black floor.

"You planned this all along didn't you?" Sally
accused.

I denied that accusation, telling her that she had given me
the idea when she asked about her dress.

At the mention of her dress she rushed over to check it and
spotted her bra and panties. I acted innocent when asked where
they had come from, but pointed out that she would have been more
worried if they had vanished for good. She asked if there was
anywhere she could changed and the ghost pointed to a screen in
the far corner. She went to change back into her underwear and
ball-gown.

"Why change?" I asked, "it's warm enough
and you look marvelous in that outfit." René nodded his
agreement.

"I'm glad you like it, but if I was to go out there
in it, wouldn't the others think something underhand had
gone on."

We sat and waited while Sally changed. After several minutes,
Sally re-emerged from behind the screen, once again dressed in
her elegant green satin ball-gown and presumably her underwear.

"OK, Mr. Plustard, was that original enough for you?"
she asked. I was taken aback by the directness of her approach.
Evidently, René was also surprised and nodded affirmatively.

Sally leapt in with both feet, saying, "Great, so where
are the keys? So, we can inherit your estate and fortune."

"That's a bit mercenary, isn't it?" I
objected.

"You might think so, but why else would I allow you to do
magic on me? Do you think I habitually spend my evenings in the
basements of strange houses, having blades thrust through me?"
she retorted.

This could easily have degenerated into a knock down, drag out
fight, if René had not scribbled a note and waved it under my
nose. The note said, "You're fiancée is right! She has
the three prime requirements for a magician's assistant, she
is very pretty, she will follow instructions when the situation
demands and she has her head screwed on when it comes to money. I
knew I was right when I guided her hand to the key to the door
under the stairs."

Sally was objecting to being referred to as my fiancée, but
was accepting of the compliments.

A second note appeared, saying, "The keys are hidden in
the illusions, but you will never get them without doing what I
tell you."

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