This is my submission to the Halloween contest 2023! Happy reading, hope you enjoy!
Thank you to Roxy.
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My name is Steven Ordway, and I am an international realtor. I started small in my rural little college town just outside of Indianapolis, but through ambition and vigor, I made my way into the international market before I was even thirty. As luck and serendipity would have it, my first big job opportunity was here, in this strange place that only appeared on my radar when an unusual request landed on my desk. A Romanian citizen, who wanted to remain anonymous, wanted to sell his or her ancestral home, as it had been abandoned for centuries. He or she wanted me to appraise it, take pictures, and negotiate when we came that far. Basically, I had all the cards while whoever it was got all the money after the fact. Why an anonymous seller was trying to sell a property through a small crew in Indiana I do not know, but my little company was hungry, so I agreed.
That is how my story begins.
I have done a lot of unusual things over the course of my career, from dealing with angry husbands and wives of sellers over the sale of their lake houses to getting rid of the smell of old people that had permeated their mansion. I have gotten into and escaped bodily harm during the wild real-estate parties of Vegas, and I have seen many homes and buildings, even several other mansions. But none were ever as... diverse as the property known simply as "The Ancestral Home."
Romania. The whole project sparked a curious part of me. Looking at the map one would expect them to be like any other eastern-European country, but as I did my research I discovered several things that I never expected. Like how they descended from the actual Romans, they were sort of the last remnants of the Roman Empire. At least somewhat culturally. Not only did the stereotypical Romanian look almost like what you'd expect a Roman to look like, but their names were influenced by their predecessors too. Constantin, Valentin, Catalina, and so on. I mean, I expected a bunch of Ivan's and Olga's, but nope. Romanian culture seemed like almost a sexy mystery to me as I set out.
here
In addition to reading up on Romania's culture and history, I figured I'd brush dust off on some of my nerdy obsessions from when I was a kid, such as studying the Ancient Greek alphabet, Latin, and Byzantium history. In the case of Transylvania, where the property was, there were some cultural and mythological overlaps. Something I found even more curious was how there had been a long-rooted community of Celts in the area, but even overlapping with when Alexander The Great conquered the area.
After being crammed into a metal tube for almost twenty hours, with several connecting flights on several other, tinier metal tubes, I finally arrived at a deserted stretch of woods in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere, which should by all rights have nothing here. I paid the driver and got out. Being six foot four and north of two hundred pounds all these travels had been weary on my joints and knees, my whole body ached. Yeah, I'm twenty-eight, but long lanky limbs don't fit too well in small cabs, small airplanes, and so on. The man didn't look at me as I paid and got my small suitcase.
"It right up road," he said, the words so thick with an accent it took me a second to register them.
As the car sped away, leaving me in a dust cloud, I looked up the winding road and saw it. Not too far ahead of me was a small gated circle of houses, that looked as old, maybe older than time itself. The black wrought iron fence loomed above me, threatening me.
"That looks ominous," I said to myself. A wind picked up as if responding to my statement and rustling my hair, a sudden cold chill sending goose bumps up my arm. I smirked and ran a hand through my shaggy sandy blond locks as my phone's cell reception dropped, then turned on and off again.
"Perfect! Just peachy," I growled, my green eyes falling upon the mansion that rose from beyond the tall gates.
"Think this will be easy? Haha, you stupid fucker," I sneered. This would sell itself, more or less.
With that, and against my own common sense and instinct, which told me not to, I took a picture of it and posted it to my Snapchat, along with the caption, "Guess who found an old scary haunted mansion. Wish me luck!"
I didn't usually post about the jobs themselves on social media. I don't know why I did it. It was like my brain told me to let people know where I was... or that I still existed. Weird. I had sold creepy old castles and mansions in the States before, but this seemed different.
I shook it off and made my way down to the gate, kicking leaves out of my path and swatting away gnats. Even though fall was settling in, there still seemed to be plenty of little bugs roaming around this forest. I shoved my phone and pocketed my sunglasses, and as I made it to the gate I grabbed the padlock that held it closed and gave it a tug, just to find it solid, locked, and rusted shut.
I stuck my hand into my leather jacket, searching for the key. The owner had sent me it, so it should be here somewhere in this mess of pockets. Once my fingers wrapped around the rusty skeleton key, I pulled it out, feeling the awkward shape of the key in my hand. I took hold of the lock, immediately feeling clumps of rust against my hand. The rust was, oddly enough, warm.
I drew the key from my pocket and then went about finding the perfect spot to insert it into the lock, then, using all my weight I pulled the lock. A huge clunk and bang rattled the chain, but otherwise, it did no good. The damned thing wouldn't budge!
