The Hanged Man is the first truly horrible thing one sees in the mansion. After apssing through the foyer, guests enter the circular gallery which has "no windows and no doors". He makes his appearance overhead with a flash of lightning and the echoed screams of his wife's ghost.
Tale of the Hanged Man (see Tale of the Ghost Host)
Name: Master George Gracey Jr.
Born: October 31, 1830 , Winsocket , RI
Died: February 29, 1872
To a man the Graceys were strong and proud. They were always the master of their environment and could be fierce when challenged. It was this iron grasp on his realm which proved the last Graceys downfall.
George Gracey jr. inherited his father’s need for absolute control. He was quick to anger and prone to violence. Yet his mother Mary had endowed him with a sense of adventure; a longing for new experiences. And from somewhere in the dark recesses of his ancestry, George received a frivolous streak nigh close to buffoonery. These traits served to make him charming, intimidating, loved, feared and utterly unstable.
During his 15 years as “Master Gracey” George had made and lost two fortunes; over 60 people had died in and around the Mansion including his beloved first wife Lilian; and the entire household had fallen under the influence of the mysterious Madam Leota. George was bound to her somehow and could never seem to throw-off her yoke. Even when announcing his engagement to Emily Cavanaugh it was with fear of Leota’s reaction.
These years of tragedy weighed heavily on the man’s shoulders. When his bride was taken from him on their very wedding night, it caused George’s mind to snap like a taut hawser. He tore the otherwise neat attic to shreds because that was where Emily had died. He ran through the grounds swinging an axe wildly at the trees, lopping some branches and merely weakening others. Finally his bit lodged in a very ancient oak and could not be removed. Most telling of all, Master Gracey turned on Leota and began to openly resist her powers.
The last few months of his life were a continual round of arguments with the witch. She accused him of abandoning his responsibilities and withholding what was rightfully hers. He berated her dark magic, called her a fraud and a devil.
Little Leota’s death at the end of November 1871 brought forth tears of shame and regret, interspersed by maniacal laughter and cries of, “Free and free and free again!”
Meanwhile, whispers of George’s madness spread throughout the region and tales of the cursed house became fodder for long winter nights.
A measure of sanity returned to Gracey just before his Great-Aunt Victoria’s birthday. This recovery was short-lived for Leota’s long standing curse struck the Lady down that very evening and George blamed himself. Thereafter he partook heavily of whiskey and laudanum until all feared the demon-possessed Master.
It was cold and drizzly on February 29, 1872 . The evening was filled with dark foreboding. George sat in his great chair at the ballroom table, a tankard of strong spirits at his elbow and called incessantly for Leota to “come and finish it!” He had no plan on how to end this hellish existence but he knew he would take her with him.
Leota appeared just at the ¾ hour chime. “Almost ”, she thought, “soon.” In her arms were the ancient spell book used in all her séances and the heavy crystal ball which served her well.
“George, are you ready to accept your destiny? It need not end in tears. We can begin anew, you and I.”
“What Leota? Would you present me with the choice of Ambrose? Am I to give you all and my soul as well? I would rot in Hell first!” Suddenly George lunged forward and swept at the sorceress with his ruby-hilted saber. It missed wildly and pulled him off balance to a shameful heap on the floor.
“Well George…if you will not give me what is mine, I shall take it.”
Leota set her book on the table, flipped three pages and began to intone under her breath. Candle flames jumped and bent toward the now incandescent globe. George could feel the hair of his head lift and drag him forward. Even through the fog of drink he knew that touching that crystal would mean death. He scrambled to his feet and swayed drunkenly toward the nearest door.
Leota’s voice chased him from the room. “You cannot escape George. What’s left of the staff answer to me. You are all alone and I will find you.”
The world spun in Graceys head as he climbed the staircase. The witch’s measured steps not far behind. She was in no hurry and could enjoy the game.
“Do you know why Lilian had to die George?”
He slipped and a walnut banister leapt up to open his skull to the bone.
“Do you know how Emily really died?”
Blood poured into his eyes. “Must hide, must hide. Need time to think!”
“Poor Elma…Poor Victoria
He burst into the attic and knocked-over a priceless statue. Clawing through the debris he made for the northwest corner and a passage known only to the Master of the house. He had barely slipped inside and pulled a heavy sea chest in place when Leota entered the room, graceful as a lioness on the prowl.
“Where are you my darling? Don’t play hide and seek with your true love.”
This insult to the latest Missus Graceys memory and death steeled his nerves. Rage shook him even as the close air was filled with the tang of bile and sweat and spirits. George reached to shove the passage open and confront her when suddenly the trunk flew up and crashed out a high window. Ten feet away stood the beautiful demon, her face a sickly green in the crystal ball’s decayed light. A deep malevolent laugh spilled from her lips.
“It is over George. We have had our merry chase but I have you. Now I am lady of this house and you will answer to ME!”
The desperate man heard doom in that laugh and all thought of resistance vanished like a bayou mist. He scuttled backward through the tunnel and came out in the tall weather tower. A narrow walkway ringed the space and then only half-way round. Down the middle stretched a bell rope, not used in 50 years. George saw there was no escape from here. Windows he couldn’t reach and a deadly drop to the enshrouded floor below. Unsteady from exertion and wine he beat a tottering path to the far side and attempted to disappear in the gloom.
Leota entered as a radiant Angel of Death. The fetid light from her globe was a living flame and turned her beauty into a sinister mask. The lash of her voice cleaved his soul.
“Come to me…NOW!”
George felt invisible hands lift him bodily in the air and throw him toward certain annihilation. Without thinking he clutched at the rope in passing and just caught it with one hand. He swung in a wide arc and a wild right foot kicked Leota’s arm. Her crystal soared high in the air and bounced off the roof. Now free of her command, the ball no longer sought for George alone but all life to be encased in its ravenous depths. A tornado sprang to life within the tower and caught away Leota’s breath even as she howled in frustrated rage. Master Gracey clung to the rope as a lifeline but that proved his undoing as it twisted around his throat 1-2-3 times and strangled him unconscious. Thrown about by the wind, the orb pinged from one wall to the other. Leota had almost escaped to the tunnel when her heavy crystal ball darted across the room and smashed into the back of her skull.
A keen observer may have noticed four things happen at that instant: Leota’s head passed clean into the ball; her body vanished; calm flooded the tower and Master George Gracey jr, last of his line, gave one feeble kick before entering the spirit realm.
Leota and the ball dropped into the inky well below. After a few brief seconds a square of light opened on the floor and Ramsley the butler entered, the spell book under one arm. He looked at George’s body high above, gave a wicked grin and carried Leota out of Master Graceys final resting place.
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