This is the third installment in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I and Part II before continuing.
Daisy was deadly serious about hiring a psychic to purge the bad energy from their house. No matter how much Dan tried to reason with her, she refused to set foot in the house again, or even talk about moving arrangements, until she could feel safe in their new home, and she swore she would never feel safe until a professional psychic told her the bad energy was gone for good. Dan thought professional con artist was a more accurate description, but since Daisy refused to budge, he had no choice but to go along with it.
The woman Daisy hired brought all manner of funny-smelling herbs and salts, which she promptly burned and waved and scattered about the house. Once that was done and Dan was left wondering how much she was going to charge them for stuff she had brought here just so she could burn it, she walked slowly through the entire house, breathing deeply and holding her arms out like a blind person feeling their way through unfamiliar surroundings.
Having made her way back to the front door, she stopped and turned back to face them as they stood watching her from the front hallway. “This house has a name,” she said.
“What?” said Dan.
She didn’t quite look at him. Her eyes had a far-off look that made it appear as though she was looking through him, or past him, and he didn’t want to admit how much that look unsettled him.
“This house was given a name,” she said. “When that name was used, it kept its inhabitants safe. Then it was assigned a number and the name was forgotten. Since then, terror has reigned in this house.”
“What’s the name?” said Daisy.
The woman turned to Daisy with that same expression that appeared to look through Daisy, rather than at her. “It says its name is Dunson House.”
“It says its name? Are you trying to claim that the house is talking to you?” Dan was beginning to suspect she was not, in fact a con artist – that she might actually believe everything she was saying – in which case she was completely off her rocker. He wasn’t sure which was worse.
Daisy held up a hand to him. “Dunson was the name of the family that built this house,” she said to the possibly crazy woman they had paid to come into their house and set fire to some leaves.
“That’s right,” said the woman. “They named the house after themselves, and after some time, the house claimed that name as its own. Then another family moved in and stopped using the house’s name until the name was forgotten. But the house did not forget.”
Crazy it is then.
“That’s when the terrors started happening,” said Daisy.
“That’s right.”
“What are you talking about?” said Dan.
“That woman wasn’t the only one to be attacked in this house,” said Daisy. “She was just the latest in a long string of violent attacks and tragic accidents that have taken place here. The house is full of bad energy, not just from one incident, but from decades of death and loss.”
“This house has been cleansed of bad energy,” the crazy lady said, waving her arms around like Mary Poppins directing her cartoon animals. “So, do not say it has bad energy, for words have power, and that which you say will come to pass.
“Instead, use the name this house was given. You can use the number if it is helpful in explaining to people new to the house where you are, but you must always use the name of the house in conjunction with the number in order to maintain its protective influence. Do this and you will live long, happy lives here.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“We’ll do it.”
“What? Daisy!”
“I said, we’ll do it!”
So, once again, Dan gave into his wife. She remained terrified of the house he had bought for her, and that fear forbade her from ever using the address of the house or letting Dan use it. She insisted they call the house by name, and it became easier to give in than to fight her on something so trivial, if stupid.
And they did, in fact, live long, happy lives together in that house. Whether that was due to Daisy’s insistence on using the house’s name, or just dumb luck, is for you to decide.