Dark Shadows: The Last Year

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Victor Winters, Mar 22, 2019.

  1. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1000: Victims

    Fri. Apr. 24, 1970

    The night of the full moon… Quentin Collins races to Chris’s cabin to try and prevent certain tragedy, unaware that someone has stowed away in the trunk of his car… The full moon has long been an omen of death and despair, for high above Collinsport, in Chris Jennings’ cabin on Green Mountain, the werewolf will claim another victim…

    At Chris’s cabin, Sabrina hugged herself as she looked at the moon poppy. “Oh, Chris! I was too late!” Her only hope was that he did not return to the cabin until morning. Suddenly there was growling coming from outside the cabin. A wild animal was scratching at the door, trying to get inside the room.

    Sabrina hurried over to the front door and bolted it quickly. The scratching and growling continued and Sabrina looked around the cabin for something silver to protect herself with. She found a platter that looked like it was made of silver on the mantelpiece. Sabrina quickly jerked the platter off of the mantelpiece, the objects on it clattering onto the floor.

    The scratching on the door stopped. Sabrina turned to look at the door. She tentatively stepped towards it, listening for any noises outside. She waited a minute before unbolting it. Sabrina slowly opened it a crack, looking to see if the werewolf was still there. The cabin was probably not going to be a safe place to stay. Perhaps I can make it back to my car, she thought. Suddenly, there was a shower of glass behind her as the creature jumped through the window. Sabrina screamed and held the silver platter in front of her face…

    Quentin finally arrived at the cabin, his car stalling temporarily as it passed over the watery road. The moon had risen, and Quentin knew that it was now going to be a mission to rescue Sabrina—not Chris—at this point. Turning up the path to the cabin, he saw Sabrina’s car parked outside. There were lights on in the cabin, and Quentin’s car brakes squealed in protest as he stopped too fast.

    Quentin reached into his jacket and felt inside for his gun. He could hear screams inside Chris’s cabin—Sabrina’s screams. He rushed towards the unbolted door and carefully opened it, using it as a shield as he stepped forward.

    Quentin gasped to see the werewolf on top of Sabrina’s unmoving body, ripping at her neck. “Chris, stop!” Quentin shouted, drawing his gun in front of him and firing a warning shot into the floor beside them. The werewolf jumped a little and turned towards Quentin, snarling. It came towards Quentin, claws extended and fangs gleaming. “I’m sorry, Chris!” Quentin cried out, and shot the werewolf in the shoulder, not wanting to kill him. The werewolf howled in pain, clutching at his shoulder. He growled and snapped at Quentin.

    Just then, there was a shrill scream next to Quentin. “Chris!” a girl’s voice shouted in despair. Quentin looked down in shock to see Amy standing there. The werewolf looked at the little girl and stopped growling. He held his bloody shoulder and stared at her. She stared back at him, then looked at the bloody body lying on the cabin floor.

    “Sabrina!” Amy screamed. She lurched forward, but Quentin grabbed her before she could go any further. “I’ve got to help her, Quentin!” Amy pleaded. “Quentin, she isn’t moving! She isn’t moving!” she shrieked.

    Holding his arm, the werewolf turned and jumped out the window, turning to look at Amy one more time before it ventured out into the moonlit evening. “Chris!” Amy screamed. Quentin let go of her and she ran to the broken window. “Chris! Chris!” she screamed out into the twilight.

    Act One:

    “Amy, let him go!” Quentin commanded. He strode over to Sabrina and felt for any sign of life… He closed his eyes and shook his head when he realized it was too late.

    Amy turned away from the window and looked at him kneeling over Sabrina’s body. “Is she…”

    Quentin nodded grimly, and got up off of the floor. He went to Amy and put his hands down on her shoulders. “Amy, what are you doing here?”

    “I heard you and Mr. Jaeger talking earlier, and decided to follow you. I hid in your car trunk… “ Amy looked past him at Sabrina’s body and started to cry. “Oh God, Sabrina! Chris did this to her…”

    Quentin brought the girl against his stomach and held her as she sobbed against him. “Amy, how do you know it’s Chris?”

    Amy pulled her tear-streaked face away from Quentin’s torso. “I’ve always known… “ she gasped between sobs. She buried her face against Quentin again.

    Quentin held his mouth open slightly in disbelief and stroked the back of the girl’s head. “You poor girl…” Outside, they heard the sound of the werewolf howl at the full moon…

    Meanwhile, John Jaeger looked out the window in the drawing room of the Old House, staring at that same full moon. Angelique came into the room, unheard, and slipped quietly beside him and looked out the window as well. “You did everything you could,” she said, putting a hand on his arm.

    He looked down in surprise to see her. He had been so lost in his thoughts he had not heard her return from Collinwood. “I know,” he answered. “It’s the waiting for news that’s been the hardest…”

    “Did I hear your voice at Collinwood, earlier?” she asked, turning away from the moon and staring up at him with her big baby blues.

    “Yes,” he nodded. “Quentin said he would handle things… What can he do, I wonder?” John said sarcastically.

    “If he said he would handle it, he will,” Angelique said confidently, giving a little smile. She knew that Quentin’s magical portrait protected him.

    John felt jealous. He did not like the way Angelique looked when she spoke of Quentin. “How is Laszlo?” he asked, changing the subject.

    Angelique was a little startled by the change. “Laszlo? He’s fine… Well, actually, he wrote a composition for me… ‘Ode To Angelique’ he calls it. It’s lovely… you really should hear it, John.”

    “Wow, a composition named after you, that’s nice,” John said, agreeably. He turned away from the window and crossed his arms. He was trying hard to think of other things rather than the full moon. “How about you, Angelique? How do you feel now, after what happened last night?”

    “I’m fine now, John, really I am,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about me—I have survived worse ordeals and managed to always come out on top…” Angelique turned towards the Secret Room and smiled…

    Act Two:

    John glanced back out the window and took a deep breath, trying not to think about Sabrina. “Anything interesting going on at the big house?” he asked.

    Angelique thought about it. She did not want to tell John that she and Quentin had kissed… finally kissed for the first time in seventy-three years. “They have a new houseguest at Collinwood—an old friend of Quentin’s from Portland—a Mr. Dameon Edwards. He seems pleasant enough, but I can’t help but think that there’s more going on beneath the surface with that man… I almost don’t see that he and Quentin have much in common. I wonder what was the extent of their relationship in Portland…”

    John scowled. Every conversation seemed to turn to Quentin at some point. Just then, the phone in the foyer rang, and both John and Angelique jumped a little. They were not used to there being something so modern as a phone at the Old House. John looked at Angelique. “I’ll answer the phone, if you’d like?”

    Angelique shook her head and smiled. “Oh no, I want the pleasure of enjoying every modern convenience!” She walked out into the foyer and pick up the receiver. “Angelique Rumson speaking.”

    John listened from the drawing room. Angelique’s eyes widened with surprise when she heard the voice on the other end. “Quentin! What’s happened? John told me that you were going to look for Sabrina! Did you—“

    Quentin stood at the pay phone just outside the Sheriff’s office. “Angelique, I’m at the police station—Amy’s with me.” He looked over at the young girl sitting on the bench just outside the office, staring at the floor.

    “Amy!” Angelique exclaimed. “What’s Amy doing there?” She looked over at John with a startled look on her face.

    “I went up to Chris’s cabin this evening,” Quentin explained. “Amy hid in the trunk of my car. Angelique…” Quentin turned his back to Amy and lowered his voice into the payphone… “Angelique, Amy saw Sabrina get killed by the werewolf!” he whispered loudly.

    Angelique lowered the phone from her face and stared at John, her face stricken with shock. She shook her head, her mouth open, unsure of what to say to Quentin…

    Quentin sat next to Amy on the bench. Amy just sat there, unmoving. Her cup of instant hot cocoa untouched on the other side of her. “Amy,” Quentin began, putting a hand on her shoulders. “Angelique is coming here, soon. She’s going to bring you home to Collinwood while I…” Quentin searched for the right words to say, “Take care of things here in town. I have to answer some questions about Sabrina…”

    Amy nodded, but did not say anything. She was staring off into space instead of crying. She had no more tears left to shed.

    Quentin sighed and thought of Chris, who was out in the woods surrounding his cabin, now being predated by a bunch of law enforcement men with rifles, instead of being the predator. Quentin’s story of a bear mauling Sabrina had been accepted, but Quentin knew that the men would just as soon shoot the werewolf if they came across him in the middle of the woods, as they would the vicious bear they THOUGHT they were looking for…

    Act Three:

    Angelique and John drove in silence, she in the driver’s seat, John in the passenger’s. Angelique looked over at John with a worried expression on her face. John just looked out the passenger window as they turned out of the unpaved road from the Old House onto the paved one. Angelique turned back and concentrated on the road. She was more worried about Quentin and Amy, now.

    When they arrived at the police station, John and Angelique quickly found Quentin and Amy sitting outside the Sheriff’s office on a bench. “Quentin!” Angelique called out.

    Quentin stood up and embraced her as she rushed into his arms. Amy did not look up at them. Quentin looked at John over Angelique’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming,” he told John. He pulled back from Angelique and looked down at her. “Both of you…” Angelique went to Amy’s side to console her…

    After Angelique and John took Amy back to Collinwood, Quentin called Tony Peterson on the phone and had him meet him at the Blue Whale.

    “What’s this about, Quentin?” Tony asked on the phone. “Is it about Dameon Edwards?”

    “No, not Dameon, this time…” Quentin said bitterly. “It’s Sabrina Stuart—she’s dead!” he blurted out.

    “Dead? How?” Tony asked. He was seated at his desk in his office, ready to close up for the night.

    “A bear crashed into Chris’s cabin up on Green Mountain,” Quentin explained. “She was mauled to death!”

    Tony shook his head against the receiver. “That poor girl…”

    “Yes,” Quentin answered. “And I don’t know how I’ll ever tell Chris!”

    “I don’t envy you Quentin!” Tony exclaimed. “I’ll meet you at the Blue Whale in thirty minutes. There’s some papers I need to go over…”

    After ending the phone call with Quentin, Tony went to the filing cabinet marked R-T and opened it. He quickly searched for and brought up a file—STUART, S…

    Thirty minutes later, Tony greeted Quentin sitting alone at a corner table with an entire bottle of scotch that he had bought from the bartender. There were two glasses on the table. Quentin raised one of them and smiled drunkenly at Tony. “I decided to start early…”

    Tony sat down with his briefcase and started to open it. “I hope that you could spare me a glass or two…” Quentin nodded and started to pour Tony a scotch. Tony pulled out a file and tapped it, “Do you have any idea where Chris Jennings is, right now? I called his phone at the caretaker’s cottage, but there was no answer.”

    Tony turned the file so that Quentin could see the name STUART, S on it. “Chris has been named the executor of Sabrina’s will, instead of her family,” he told Quentin. “We need to let him know…”

    Quentin slid Tony the scotch and looked forlorn. “Chris… How am I going to tell him about her?” He picked up his glass and took another gulp of scotch. He wanted to put off telling Chris—forever, if he could…

    Cast:

    Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Amy Jennings… DENISE NICKERSON

    Sabrina Stuart… LISA RICHARDS

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK
     
  2. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1001: The Final Straw

    Mon. Apr. 27, 1970

    The night of the full moon continues… After seeing the werewolf maul Sabrina Stuart to death, Quentin Collins and Amy Jennings are devastated… After Angelique and John Jaeger bring a despondent Amy back to Collinwood, Tony Peterson, who has news about Sabrina’s will, heads to the Blue Whale to meet with Quentin...

    Tony greeted Quentin sitting alone at a corner table with an entire bottle of scotch that he had bought from the bartender. There were two glasses on the table. Quentin raised one of them and smiled drunkenly at Tony. “I decided to start early…”

    Tony sat down with his briefcase and started to open it. “I hope that you could spare me a glass or two…” Quentin nodded and started to pour Tony a scotch. Tony pulled out a file and tapped it, “Do you have any idea where Chris Jennings is, right now? I called his phone at the caretaker’s cottage, but there was no answer.”

    Tony turned the file so that Quentin could see the name STUART, S on it. “Chris has been named the executor of Sabrina’s will, instead of her family,” he told Quentin. “We need to let him know…”

    Quentin slid Tony the scotch and looked forlorn. “Chris… How am I going to tell him about her?” He picked up his glass and took another gulp of scotch. He wanted to put off telling Chris—forever, if he could…

    Later, after Tony had decided Quentin had had enough to drink, Tony drove him home in Quentin’s car back to Collinwood. Tony looked over at Quentin dozing off as they drove back. He wondered how Quentin came to find Sabrina in Chris Jennings’ cabin up on Green Mountain, but said nothing.

    At Collinwood, after putting Amy to bed, Angelique came down and found John staring at Barnabas Collins’ portrait in the Great Hall. Angelique stopped on the stairs and frowned, then continued over to him. “Well, I put Amy to bed, but I’m not sure if she’s going to get any sleep tonight. I asked Mrs. Johnson to check on her after a while. I’m not sure how much comfort SHE’LL be!”

    John stared at the portrait, only half listening to Angelique. “There’s something about the man in the portrait, he makes me feel really nervous, somehow… I think it’s those eyes—they seem to be staring right at me…”

    Angelique took John by the arm and led him back towards the Drawing Room. “Maybe we should have some coffee while we wait for Quentin…”

    John looked back at the portrait once more, but followed her into the Drawing Room. He looked around and shivered as Angelique sat and began to pour some coffee into their cups. “There’s been so much tragedy in this house… I can feel it all around me…” he hugged himself as he sat down.

    “There has been a great deal of tragedy here, not just what happened tonight, but it seems to happen to everyone that lives here,” Angelique admitted to him.

    Just then, the front doors opened, and Tony and Quentin walked through, with Tony helping Quentin inside before closing the doors behind him. “Do you need any help upstairs, Quentin?” Tony asked him.

    Quentin grinned and stumbled towards the stairs. “I don’t think so, my friend.” He saw Angelique approach from the Drawing Room. “Hey, Angelique!”

    “Quentin! Are you all right?” Angelique had not seen Quentin so drunk before.

    “Sure!” he smiled. He squeezed her hand and smiled, and started to make his way up the staircase, swaying as walked up, one step at a time.

    Angelique turned to Tony. “Thank you for driving him home, Mr. Peterson. I can only imagine what could have happened to him if he came home on his own… IF he came home at all!”

    Tony looked up at Quentin on the stairs. “No problem, Mrs. Rumson.” He turned and stared at her. He couldn’t help but think, once again, that he had met her somewhere…

    Angelique saw him looking at her intently, and quickly turned her head. “We’re having coffee in the—“

    “Whoa!” Quentin yelled from the balcony, interrupting her. He had his hand on the balcony railing, watching it shake back and forth as held on to it. “We better get this thing fixed before someone breaks there neck!” He grinned down at Angelique and Tony, and made his way into the hallway upstairs…

    Act One:

    Later that night, Angelique was awoken from her slumber to the sounds of sobbing echoing from another room. Angelique sat up in bed, alarmed. As she listened, she realized it was a man crying audibly…

    She quickly got out of bed and put a filmy robe on over her nightgown. Venturing out into the hall, she listened and ascertained that the sobbing was coming from John’s bedroom. Knocking softly on his door, the crying seemed to stop, but he did not say anything.

    “John!” Angelique called out, concernedly, “Are you all right?” There was no answer. Angelique did not want to go back to her room and ignore what she had heard. Opening the door slowly, she peered into the bedroom. The full moon shone through John’s window, illuminating his simply furnished and decorated room that had once belonged to Willie Loomis. Angelique could see John laying in his bed, but he was turned on his side, not facing her.

    Angelique carefully walked over to John’s bed. “John,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He did not acknowledge her.

    “I heard crying—it was a man’s voice, so it had to be you,” she said. “I want to make sure you’re all right.”

    “I’m all right,” John’s voice was low and gruff. She could see him grind his eyes with his fist.

    “I don’t think you are,” she answered. “You care too much about what happened to Sabrina Stuart tonight.”

    John turned his head toward her, but continued to lie on his side. “Of course I care!” he snapped. He sniffled and rubbed his nose with his hand. “That poor girl was mauled to death!”

    Angelique reached over and stroked his hair with her hand. “You gave her fair warning, over and over… She should have listened—“

    John sat up in bed and fully faced her. “Why did I have to know? Why me? I couldn’t get the visions out of my head… I couldn’t just leave well enough alone!”

    “You have these gifts, John,” she told him. “You have to use them, whether you like it or not! I can help you control your abilities! I can teach you how to use your psychic powers to—“

    “I’ll never use them again!” John interrupted. “Never! Oh, I know you have abilities of your own, Angelique! Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you seem to know things, control things—like you’re some kind of witch or something! Well, I’ll be damned if I’ll follow you! I don’t want OR need it! If I ever get another vision in my mind again, I’m pushing it RIGHT out!”

    “John, don’t let this one instance dissuade you! What happened to Sabrina was NOT your fault! She went up to Chris’s cabin of own volition! She—“

    “Chris!” John gasped. “It was her boyfriend—he’s that creature!” Angelique turned away, and John knew that his hunch was right. “Oh my God, Angelique! I was warning the wrong person! I should have known, I should have KNOWN!” John began to sob again.

    “No, no John!” Angelique put her arms around him and drew him close. “Chris and Sabrina were doomed from the start—no one and nothing could have changed that. Please—Please don’t cry any more, John!” She began to kiss his forehead, then his cheeks.

    John sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve. It was then he realized just how close he and Angelique were. He reached around the back of her head and brought her face down to his. “Stay with me tonight, Angelique… Please…” he murmured.

    Angelique responded by kissing him on the lips. She felt an electrical feeling all over her body. It was much more stimulating than when she and Quentin had kissed. She grasped the bed covers and pulled them down, slipping into the bed beside him.

    John kissed her again, helping her out of her robe and flinging it onto the floor once she had removed it. Outside, a dog—or was it a wolf—howled at the full moon. But neither Angelique nor John heard it…

    Act Two:

    Chris Jennings woke up, cold and almost naked, in the woods above Collinwood in the morning light. Stumbling his way back home, he quickly took a hot bath and studied himself in the mirror in the cottage bathroom. What little was left of his clothing was stained with blood, but he did not know if it was from the bullet wound on his shoulder—or from some poor soul he had ran into during the night…

    While he was getting dressed, he could have sworn he could smell coffee, but he did not remember starting any when he came in. When he came out of his bedroom with fresh clothes on, he almost jumped out of his skin to find Quentin sitting on his couch.

    “Quentin!” Chris gasped. He had his blood-stained scraps of clothing, crumpled in one hand, ready to fling it into the fireplace to get rid of the evidence.

    Quentin stared down at the fabric in Chris’s hand, but did not look surprised. “Good morning, Chris. I made us some coffee…”

    “Uh, thanks,” Chris was embarrassed. He looked down at the fistful of fabric and threw it into the fireplace. The fire consumed the clothing greedily. Chris turned again to Quentin. He noticed how pale Quentin was. “You look like your night was as bad as mine… Except, I can’t remember mine!”

    “I remember the feeling, all too well…” Quentin said, but he did not smile. Chris noticed Quentin’s mood was quite melancholy. “I’ll get the coffee…” Quentin motioned at the couch as he got up to go to the kitchenette in the back of the cottage.

    Chris sat down on the couch. “Were there any attacks in Collinsport last night? I went up to the cabin a few days ago to prepare for the full moon. I was hoping that if I attacked anything, it would be a deer or a moose instead of people…”

    Quentin looked grim as he poured their coffees. He made sure to add plenty of sugar, as they were both going to need it for the news Quentin was about to break to him.

    “I think I’d better go back tonight,” Chris continued. “Just in case… it happens again… Thanks, Quentin,” Chris said, as Quentin handed him a mug full of coffee. “Quentin, you didn’t say if there were any attacks last night?” Chris was really starting to worry about how quiet Quentin was being.

    “Yes,” Quentin nodded. “I’m afraid there WAS an attack last night. I’m sorry, Chris… I don’t know how I’m going to tell you. You killed someone last night…” Quentin paused. He did not want to continue.

    “Killed someone?” Chris wished he was surprised, but he wasn’t. He had almost always killed someone every time he had transformed into the werewolf. Just last month it had been the evil Bruno Hess. “Who? Who was it Quentin?”

    Quentin leaned forward and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. He looked down and shook his head. “I don’t know how to tell you… Chris… it was someone we both know well…”

    Chris’s mind raced. For Quentin not to just come right out and say it—it must be someone they both knew very well indeed! The possibilities raced across Chris’s mind—who could it be that Quentin was so reluctant to name? Mrs. Sarah Johnson? Laszlo Ferrari? Amy?” Chris’s eyes widened and he gasped out loud. “Amy! Oh God, Quentin! Did I kill Amy?” Chris’s heart raced at the possibility that he had killed his little sister.

    Quentin shook his head again. “No Chris, it wasn’t Amy. It was… Sabrina!”

    Chris’s mouth hung open, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. “Sa—Sabrina? No! I couldn’t…” Chris gasped and started to cry. He put his hands up to his face.

    Quentin felt himself start to cry as well, and pulled Chris into his arms. “It’s all right… It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault…” Quentin rubbed Chris’s back as he sobbed.

    “What… where did it happen?” Chris asked between sobs. He clung to Quentin for dear life.

    “She went to your cabin yesterday afternoon. She had another moon poppy for you,” Quentin explained. “I assume she made it too late—I arrived soon after sunset and tried to stop you from killing her…”

    “Oh God, Quentin!” Chris gasped. “I don’t believe it! Not Sabrina!” he cried into Quentin’s shoulder…

    Act Three:

    Angelique had slipped out of John’s bed before he woke that morning. Even though she enjoyed being with him--especially since she had not been with a man since Sky Rumson—she did not want him to think that they were becoming an item. Her mind was firmly set on one man—and that man was Quentin Collins. With Quentin at her side, and finally the Mistress of the Old House—she would call it Collins House after they were married—all of her lifelong dreams would finally come to their fruition…

    After getting dressed and leaving John a note downstairs in the foyer next to the new telephone, Angelique came up the path from the Old House to find Tony Peterson getting out of his car. “Good morning, Angelique!” he called to her as he stepped away from his car with his briefcase.

    “Oh, good morning!” Angelique quickly looked towards the mansion as she noticed Tony studying her face intently. “Are you here to see Quentin, as well?”

    “Yes,” Tony tapped his briefcase. “I had some papers for Quentin to sign.”

    “I didn’t know you were Quentin’s lawyer…” Angelique said, as she knocked on one of the front doors.

    “Just in the last couple of weeks… Say, Mrs. Rumson, Angelique… have we met at some party in town, or something? I swear I’ve seen your face before…”

    “Oh, maybe in a magazine, or something?” Angelique answered. She knocked on the door again, but there was no answer. “I used to model back in New York before I married Sky Rumson.”

    “Hmm, maybe that’s it,” Tony answered. Of course he wasn’t one to read women’s magazines, but maybe he had seen Angelique’s picture while rummaging through a magazine at the dentist once or twice.

    Just then, Quentin came around the corner from Chris’s cottage. He had left Chris much calmer than he was before. Chris had promised to let Quentin drive him back up to the cabin that afternoon and make sure that he could not escape from it this time.

    Quentin saw Tony and Angelique standing in front of Collinwood, and tried to put on a brave front. “Good morning, all, I hope you weren’t waiting long… I just told Chris about Sabrina.”

    “Oh, no Quentin! How did he take it?” Angelique asked.

    “He was understandably upset, but I think I managed to calm him down. I’m going back later to spend more time with him.” Quentin gave Angelique a sad little smile. “I think I’d better spend this night with him, just in case…”

    “I understand,” Angelique told him, as he opened the door to let the two into the house. “I can stay with Amy, if you’d like…”

    Quentin nodded in agreement. He turned to Tony. “What did you want to see me about, Tony? Was it Sabrina’s will? I don’t think Chris would be up to it today… Maybe tomorrow?”

    “I actually have another matter to discuss with you,” Tony said. “I have some papers for you to sign…”

    “All right,” Quentin answered. “Let me go back and see Mrs. Johnson about Amy, then I’ll meet you in the study…”

    Angelique and Tony watched Quentin go back. “He’s holding up remarkably well,” Angelique said to Tony. “Especially after that ordeal at the cabin…”

    “It’s hard to believe he’s the same person that got so drunk last night,” Tony told her. “Maybe now that the shock is over, he won’t need to drink so heavily again,” he mused. “But, I’m actually worried more about Chris Jennings… How do you get over your girlfriend dying in such a horrific way?”

    “It will take time, and patience, and a lot of support from family and friends,” Angelique answered. “He still has that little girl to live for—that’s one thing.”

    As Angelique said this, however, she thought about how Sabrina’s death would actually put an end to John’s worrying about her. Now that she was out of the way, Angelique could use John’s psychic abilities to her own advantage. Angelique turned away from Tony and faced the Portrait of Barnabas Collins—and smiled…

    Cast:

    Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Chris Jennings… DON BRISCOE

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK
     
  3. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1002: The Sacrificial Wolf

    Tue. Apr. 28, 1970

    The day after the full moon... Sabrina Stuart has been killed by the werewolf, and Quentin Collins has been faced with the seemingly impossible task of telling Chris Jennings of her death... What Quentin hasn't told him is that Chris's younger sister Amy knows the truth about Chris, and has witnessed Sabrina's death herself...

    David Collins, newly returned from Boston with his father, Roger, came home while Quentin and Tony were in the study. Roger had left almost immediately, having heard gossip from the cannery that his “young” cousin had not been doing such a good job at the cannery after all—the other employees had been doing the brunt of the work while Roger was in Boston. Roger had hurried away muttering to himself about saving a sinking ship while leaving his suitcases with a thrilled Mrs. Johnson to unpack.

    David heard Quentin and Tony Peterson saying good-bye downstairs. He rushed out from unpacking his suitcase in his bedroom. “Quentin!” he called out in greeting, “I’m back!”

    Quentin looked up to see David standing up on the balcony above the Great Hall. The balcony railing wobbled as the growing young man grasped it and shook it with excitement at seeing Quentin again.

    "Be careful, David," Quentin warned. "We'll need to get that railing fixed before someone breaks their neck!"

    “All right!” David let go of the railing and ran down the stairs to give Quentin a hug. Quentin hugged the boy back, and gave a weak smile. Quentin put an arm across David’s shoulders as the two turned and walked into the Drawing Room.

    “How did you like Boston, David?” Quentin asked. “Do you think you’ll want to live there for school?”

    “I liked it pretty well,” David was more excited about going to Boston than he had been before leaving earlier in the month. “I guess Oakley Prep won’t be so bad. I decided I want to go there this fall.” David did not notice Quentin's morose mood. “I hope Amy won’t miss me too much…”

    They found Amy sitting in the Drawing Room, staring at the fire. “Hi Amy! I’ve been looking for you! Maggie sent a couple of things for you! She’s visiting a sick aunt in New Hampshire…” David greeted Amy, but she barely responded. She continued to just stare at the fire.

    David looked up puzzled at Quentin. “Sabrina was killed last night,” Quentin told David quietly, “She was mauled by a bear up at Chris’s cabin…” Amy’s eyes narrowed as she heard Quentin’s excuse.

    David looked shocked and turned back to Amy. “I’m sorry Amy—Sabrina seemed like such a nice lady.”

    Amy did not acknowledge him. She got up and walked up to Quentin, who kneeled down in front of her. "Please let me see Chris before you leave for the cabin," she begged.

    “Of course,” Quentin agreed, he was just glad that she was speaking to him again.

    Unbeknownst to them, a woman dressed all in white stood appeared outside of the caretaker's cottage. Her long, flowing robes fluttered in the Spring breeze as wildflower petals flew by her. She stood in front of the cottage window and stared inside. She brought her hands up to her face and wept...

    Act One:

    As Quentin and Amy walked down to the cottage hand in hand, Quentin looked down from time to time, wondering what the quiet young girl was thinking. He knew that Sabrina’s death had been a blow to her, especially with the knowledge that it was Chris who had killed her.

    For Amy’s part, she did not know how she felt. For her, Chris was the last of her family. As much as she loved the Collins family, she did not feel they were truly hers. She was not aware of the family connection through Quentin. All Amy knew was that her parents were dead, her brother Tom was dead, and now Sabrina, who she’d hoped would become her sister-in-law was now dead as well. Amy stared ahead towards the caretaker’s cottage, ignoring the beauty of the Spring day. For her, there was no more beauty in the world. There was only the ugliness of reality. And that reality was that Chris was cursed—and, he was all that she had left…

    Amy pointed towards the front cottage window. "Look Quentin, there's somebody else in there!" It was hard to tell who it was, but it seemed to be a woman's figure, dressed all in white.

    Quentin looked, but he wondered if it was a trick of the sunlight. They came up to the front door and stopped. Quentin knocked on the front door twice, but there was no answer. Inside the cottage, the Woman in White sobbed in her hands as she walked across the room.

    Quentin opened the front door tentatively, and peered inside the dark room. "Chris, I brought Amy to see you!" he called out, but there was no answer. Quentin, followed by Amy, stepped inside and looked for the person they saw through the front window, but she was gone. Flicking the light next to the front door, Quentin’s eyes widened with shock, and he gasped as he looked towards the back of the room. "Amy, don't come in!" Quentin exclaimed, turning behind him and trying to push Amy back out of the cottage.

    But, Amy struggled against Quentin and poked her head under his arm. She stared at what Quentin was trying to shield her from across the room and screamed with horror. Towards the back of the room, hanging from the rafters, a man’s body swung back and forth slowly. "Chris!" she screamed, breaking free from Quentin grasp and running over to Chris's hanging body. An overturned chair lay on the floor beneath him. "No!" Amy cried, collapsing on her knees below Chris’s body.

    Quentin quickly came up behind the young girl and knelt beside her. She turned away from the horrible sight of her brother's hung body and buried her face into Quentin's chest. Quentin stared up at Chris with a horrified expression. "Chris..." he murmured, not really believing it had come to this. Judging by the angle of Chris's head, his neck had most certainly been broken by the hanging. Quentin closed his eyes with shame as he held Amy, feeling guilty he was never able to help his great-grandson.

    Quentin held Amy for along time. Perhaps it was only a few minutes, but for Quentin it felt like an eternity. Finally, Quentin realized it was too horrible to continue to sit on the floor beneath the body. "Come on, Amy, we've got to call the police..." Quentin told her.

    Amy wiped the tears from her face, and nodded up at Quentin. They stood, and Amy leaned against Quentin as he led her out of the cottage. Amy realized that she was now completely alone. Quentin and the other Collins would not replace her family.

    Neither Quentin nor Amy saw the Woman in White as she watched them leave. She came back out after Quentin shut the cottage door. Her long brown hair flowed behind her as she stared up at the hanging body…

    Act Two:

    “No, I’ve never heard of this Chris Jennings…” Buffie Harrington said into the bar phone. “I’ll ask around…” She looked up and saw the front door of the Blue Whale open. “I’ve got to go!” she said quickly, and hung up the phone. "Back so soon?" Buffie called from behind the bar as John strode into the Blue Whale. A jaunty, instrumental rock tune played on the juke box.

    John smiled bittersweetly. "Yeah, it wasn't the best of nights last night..." He pulled up a stool and sat at the bar in front of her.

    "More girl trouble?" Buffie arched an eyebrow. "Which one was it? The friend... or the one who wasn't really a friend?"

    John shook his head. "I really don't want to talk about it--it's too terrible," he said, ignoring her questions. John nodded to the alcohol bottles behind her. "I'll have a spiced rum, please!"

    Buffie raised both eyebrows and turned back towards the bottles. "Wow!" she reached for the spiced rum. "That bad, huh?"

    John frowned and nodded, and Buffie grabbed two glasses. "I'll tell you what... this first one is on the house." She poured into both glasses and took one for herself. "I'll join you!"

    John gulped down the spiced rum and grimaced. "The girl I told you about--the one I was worried for her life--she was killed last night! Attacked by a... bear--up on Green Mountain!"

    Buffie gasped. "How horrible!" She reached for the spiced rum and poured John another. "I think you need another one on the house! You knew it was going to happen, didn't you?" she guessed.

    John nodded and gulped down the rum. "I guess I see things before they happen..."

    Buffie stared at him, intrigued. “You mean like am I going to get splashed by a passing car while walking, or win the lottery?”

    John shook his head. “I wish it were so mundane. I saw for weeks that the girl—her name was Sabrina—was going to get mauled by an animal. I tried to warn her several times. I dreamt it was going to happen, I heard the growling… and the screams.”

    “That’s absolutely horrific!” Buffie said. She looked down at the shotglass and decided she might take another swig.

    “And then there’s my other friend—her name’s Angelique—I felt uneasy about her the other evening. I couldn’t really explain what it was,” John continued. Now that he was explaining things, it was all pouring out. “But, I felt compelled to come back here and see if she was all right… On the way here, I heard screaming in an alley—it was Angelique… This guy was trying to rape her…” He looked at Buffie with sad eyes. “But, I knew… I KNEW!”

    Buffie looked away, guilty. She was responsible for that attack. She might not have been the man in the alley, but she was responsible. She wondered if their scheme was worth it—really worth the anguish they were causing…

    Act Three:

    David came out of the kitchen with a tray of food that Mrs. Johnson made, to see Quentin and a stone-faced Amy come into the house. "What happened?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

    Quentin looked at Amy, then shook his head at David. "It's Chris... He's gone David."

    David was puzzled. "Gone away? Like, left town?"

    Amy suddenly looked and stared at David, her cheeks still streaked. "He's dead…" she said blankly. "Chris is dead."

    "Amy," Quentin told her, "Go find Mrs. Johnson and stay with her while I call the police."

    Amy looked up at Quentin. "I don't want to see Mrs. Johnson." She turned to go up the stairs. “I’m going to go lie down for awhile.” Quentin and David stared up at her as she slowly walked past the wobbly balcony railing and left open the door to the upstairs hallway.

    Amy walked straight into her bedroom like a somnambulist. Shutting the door behind her, she looked all around the room with a dazed expression on her face. Suddenly, she screamed like a wild animal and jumped on the bed, throwing off the bed-covers and picking up the pillows. She tore at the pillows, exposing all the feathers inside and making them fly all over the room.

    Jumping off the bed, she flung the lamp on the floor, shattering it. She tipped the side table over and went over to the vanity. Flinging the jewelry box at the vanity mirror, the glass shattered into a hundred pieces. Not done yet, she flung a heavy hairbrush at the vanity's glass and broke it some more. Amy ran around the room, flinging books and knick-knacks out of the bookcase, then tipping it over. She pulled all of the drawers out of the desk and showered the room with papers, crayons and pencils.

    Quentin ran to Amy's bedroom and flung open her door. He gasped in shock at the state of the trashed room, but nothing could have been more surprising than the sight of Amy, no longer hysterical, rocking back and forth in the rocking chair, calmly singing “London Bridge”.

    Quentin stood there transfixed, unsure of what to say or do. Next to Amy, dressed all in white in a long, flowing gown, knelt Sabrina. She looked the way she used to before she saw Chris transform into the werewolf that first time. Her pretty brown hair was long and straight, flowing past her shoulders. She had an ethereal quality about her. She smiled sadly at Amy, touching the young girl's hand before disappearing right before Quentin's eyes...

    Cast:

    David Collins… DAVID HENESY

    Amy Jennings… DENISE NICKERSON

    Ghost of Sabrina Stuart… LISA RICHARDS

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK

    Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS
     
  4. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1003: Good-bye, Amy

    Wed. Apr. 29, 1970

    It is a time of Immense Tragedy on the Grand Estate of Collinwood... For Sabrina Stuart and Chris Jennings are dead, and Amy Jennings now lies catatonic, unresponsive to those around her... Quentin Collins wonders how he can help Amy, when he does not know how to deal with the tragedy himself...

    Amy lay on the sofa in the Drawing Room. Quentin knelt behind the sofa, trying to get her to respond to him, but Amy just stared off into space.

    "Please Amy," Quentin begged. "Chris and Sabrina's funeral is tomorrow. I need you to be by my side. It's gonna break my heart to see them buried..." Quentin held her hand. “Chris named me your guardian Amy, but I want you to know that I don’t see it as an obligation. I love you and I want you to be happy…”

    Amy still did not speak. Quentin sighed and got up from behind the sofa. He walked out into the Great Hall and turned back to look at Amy one more time. Shutting the Drawing Room doors behind him, he lifted up the receiver on the phone on the hall table. Pausing for a moment, he decided he had no choice but to call Windcliff…

    "Hello, Dr. Julia Hoffman, please," he spoke into the phone after someone answered. "Quentin Collins..." Quentin stared at Barnabas' portrait, wishing he were there to help him. "Julia! Yes, I know... I can hardly believe it myself... Yes, I understand... No, I know how hard it would be... I don't blame you... Actually, the reason I'm really calling is because of Amy... Yeah, she's not dealing too well, poor thing... No, she hasn't been speaking, nor eating...”

    Quentin listened and gulped as he stared at the Grandfather clock. “I don't even think she's slept since she trashed her room yesterday... Yes, she trashed her room, then she stopped, just stopped doing anything... Once in a while she'll sing to herself... A Doctor Kassem? This afternoon? All right, Julia, we'll be expecting him... Thanks Julia... And Julia, I know Chris would understand… Trust me, I know how hard it is… Good-bye Julia…"

    Quentin hung up the phone, and shook his head at Barnabas' portrait. "Oh, Barnabas, if only you were here! So much has happened lately…" But of course, Quentin knew that THAT was not possible.

    David came out onto the balcony above him and started down the stairs. “David!” Quentin said to the boy as he came down, “Maybe you could sit and talk to Amy… I’ve tried, but maybe she’ll respond to you…”

    David stepped off the last step and looked nervously toward the Drawing Room. “Um… I don’t think so Quentin, I wouldn’t know what to say!”

    “Anything, David,” Quentin told him. “The funeral is tomorrow—we’ve got to help her through this—I need help to get through this!”

    David anxiously looked toward the Drawing Room, then the front doors. “I was going out Quentin—I’ll try to talk to Amy later!” David rushed towards the foyer.

    “David, please!” Quentin called after him.

    “Later!” David answered, hurriedly opening the front doors and closing them behind him. Quentin sighed and looked over at Barnabas’ portrait for help that would not come…

    Act One:

    Hannah du Noir returned to the Old House to work on Josette's, or Angelique's, new bedroom again. Angelique ushered her in the front door. Hannah carried a large, square-shaped parcel under her arm. She looked around nervously, but also amazed at the changes that had happened in the past couple of weeks.

    “I see the moving men brought in the new furniture I—well, we—picked out,” she said, side-eyeing Angelique. She set the parcel down against the nearest chair.

    Angelique eyes widened when she saw it. “Is that what I think it is, Hannah?” she asked eagerly.

    Hannah smiled and nodded. “Dominic had finished re-framing it and getting rid of the um… inscription you wanted removed.”

    Angelique eagerly tore off the paper and removed a large painting. Turning it around, she showed it to Hannah. It was a portrait of Angelique herself, dressed in an elegant blue evening gown, done last year as a Christmas present from Sky. “To Angelique ~ Love Sky,” was what it used to say,” Angelique told the older woman. “What a joke that was…” Angelique carried the painting over to the mantelpiece above the fireplace and propped it up where Barnabas’ modern portrait had hung. “I think I’ll like it, right here,” she told Hannah.

    “Very nice, Angelique,” Hannah said admiringly. But, began to look nervous when she looked up at the ceiling. “I suppose you’ll want to work on your new bedroom some more,” she said with just a little apprehension.

    Angelique’s eyes narrowed as she turned away from admiring her painting. “Of course, Hannah, that’s what I’m paying you for!” She walked over to the black-haired woman. “Stop worrying, Hannah, I assure you there is nothing to be afraid of up there in that room!” Hannah nodded, and went back to her car to retrieve assorted pictures and curtains for Angelique’s room.

    While Hannah was outside, Angelique took down the painting and looked at it some more. She propped it up against a chair. “I’ll just have John hang this up later,” she told herself. Angelique felt a presence in the room, and hugged herself. “Is that you, Barnabas?” she asked out loud, looking at the bookcase. “Are you unhappy with all the changes I’ve made?” she asked, smiling. But then, her eyes narrowed. “Jasmine?” she whispered. Why would she smell jasmine from Barnabas? Angelique looked around angrily.

    Hannah came in carrying a box to bring upstairs. “Angelique, I’m going to get started now!” she called into the drawing room.

    “All right, Hannah, I’ll be right up!” Angelique answered, still sniffing the air. The smell of jasmine seemed to have disappeared.

    Upstairs, in Josette’s old room, Hannah set the box down and began to unpack. She got the distinct impression that there was someone behind her. Hannah reached behind her neck and felt the goosebumps.

    “Who’s there?” she demanded. She looked around the room, but of course, it was empty. Hannah sniffed—she could have sworn she smelled jasmine. Behind Hannah, the eyes on Josette’s painting began to glow…

    Act Two:

    David left Collinwood, mostly because of how uncomfortable he felt around Amy, but also to avoid the solemness that had overtaken the Great House since he had returned from Boston.

    Walking down the path to go visit the Old House, David realized that when he had left for Boston, the trees were still barren, but now, many of them had grown leaves now at the end of April. This sudden outburst of life was a stark contrast to the mood at Collinwood nowadays.

    Upon exiting the path to the Old House, David was startled to see a black ’57 Chevy with pink interior parked in front of the Old House. Not only that, but the road to the house looked much more used that it used to when only Julia Hoffman was the only person who occasionally parked there. He also noticed the electrical wires and telephone poll outside the home. His eyes narrowed.

    He ran into an older woman with black hair in an updo carrying a large box into the Old House. A vase and some orange fabric poked out of the top. “Who’re you?” David demanded. If there was one thing David Collins did not like and that was change. He did not like to see too many strangers hanging about what he perceived to be his territory. It had taken him three years to get used to Barnabas Collins and Julia Hoffman.

    Hannah paused and raised her eyebrows at the forthright young man with the light brown shaggy hair. “Hannah du Noir!” she exclaimed. “I’m helping Angelique redecorate… Is that all right with you?” she asked sarcastically.

    “Angelique?” David asked incredulously. A lot HAD changed since he had left for Boston. The last he heard, Barnabas had a houseguest named Angelique before he left for England—at least, that’s what the adults told him—but he did not think that Barnabas would give someone permission to change the Old House! “Yeah, sure…” David said, deep in thought. He did not think Barnabas was going to be too happy when he returned! Hannah stared at him a moment, then hurried inside.

    Her arms full, Hannah left the door open behind her. David followed and looked around. The first thing he noticed was that there was a new paint job downstairs. The second thing he noticed was the telephone sitting on the foyer table.

    David walked into the drawing room, staring at the new furniture, rugs and curtains. But, the most fascinating thing in the room was that Barnabas’ portrait was no longer hanging over the fireplace. Next to the fireplace, propped up against an arm chair, was the painting of a beautiful blonde woman in a blue evening dress. Even though he had only briefly seen Angelique once before he left for Boston, David did not doubt that THAT was the woman in the portrait.

    David reached over and lightly touched the face of the woman in the portrait. She seemed very familiar to him, as though he had met her before and had known her before she came to stay at the Old House with Barnabas. David racked his brain, trying to remember how and where he had known her…

    “What are you doing here?” A high woman’s voice demanded behind him. David whirled around and saw Angelique in the flesh.

    “I-I was just visiting!” David stammered. “Barnabas used to let me come here all the time.” David thought back, he remembered staying here for quite some time, but it was like a dream to him—as though he had only half-lived here… Angelique scowled, eyeing him, then the bookcase beside the fireplace.

    Act Three:

    Dr. Alfred Kassem was sent by Julia to see Amy at Collinwood. Alfred was an early middle-aged man with jet black hair, and thick glasses with rims the same color. After meeting with Quentin in the Great Hall for a few minutes, he asked to be alone with Amy. Quentin stared after him as he closed the Drawing Room doors, concerned. He sighed and told himself that if Julia trusted Dr. Kassem with Amy, then he would have to as well.

    Alfred studied Amy laying propped up on the sofa for a moment, then strode calmly over to the young girl. He sat down in the chair directly across from her. He looked at her, but she stared blankly at something—maybe it was the fireplace, or a curtain, or maybe even a spot on the floor—Alfred could not tell. Finally, he spoke aloud.

    “Hello, Amy. My name is Dr. Alfred Kassem, but you can call me Al for short,” he told her, but not unkindly. No answer.

    “I understand two people that you love very much just died… I’m very sorry for your loss…” No answer.

    “If you’d like to talk to me about it, I’m all ears. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s fine too…” No answer.

    Alfred studied Amy for a few minutes, but she did not even seem to look at him. Alfred picked up a satchel he brought in with him and took something out. It was a doll. “I brought a friend with me today,” he told her. “She lost her family too. Do you want to be her family, Amy?” Dr. Kassem placed the doll on her lap and sat back in his chair to watch her.

    After a few minutes, Amy felt the doll on her lap and began to grasp it. She slowly pulled it up into her arms and rocked it like a baby. Amy began to sing, still staring off into space. “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…”

    Later, Quentin and David were waiting out in the Great Hall, when Drawing Room doors opened, and Dr. Kassem came out with Amy. She was holding a doll in her arms and staring blankly ahead. Quentin looked at her, then at Alfred. “Well?”

    Alfred shook his head. “I think it would be best if Amy stayed with us at Windcliff for awhile,” he told him. Alfred looked down at Amy.

    “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for her here?” Quentin asked.

    Alfred shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ll call Dr. Hoffman and have her prepare a room for her. Do you think you could pack a suitcase for Amy?” Quentin nodded, then went to find Mrs. Johnson.

    Alfred looked down at Amy again. “Amy, do you want to say good-bye to anyone?” Amy just stared straight ahead.

    David glanced up at Dr. Kassem, then at Amy. “Good-bye Amy! I’ll miss you!”

    Amy did not look at David. She began to rock her doll in her arms and started singing. “Take the key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up…” David just stared at her, his mouth slightly open…

    Cast:

    David Collins… DAVID HENESY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Amy Jennings… DENISE NICKERSON

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE

    Dr. Alfred Kassem… EDMUND HASHIM
     
  5. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1004: The Portrait

    Thu. Apr. 30, 1970

    On this day, Amy Jennings has had a nervous breakdown after two deaths in succession—those of Chris Jennings and Sabrina Stuart… Facing no other choice, but to commit Amy to Windcliff, Quentin watches as she leaves with Dr. Kassem… Meanwhile, at the Old House, Hannah du Noir will be terrified…

    Upstairs, in Josette’s old room, Hannah set the box down and began to unpack. She got the distinct impression that there was someone behind her. Hannah reached behind her neck and felt the goosebumps.

    “Who’s there?” she demanded. She looked around the room, but of course, it was empty. Hannah sniffed—she could have sworn she smelled jasmine. Behind Hannah, the eyes on Josette’s painting began to glow.

    Hannah felt an icy cold hand touch her neck—she gasped and held the back of her neck, standing straight. She whirled around, and that’s when she noticed the Portrait of Josette Collins, and her glowing eyes…

    Hannah screamed in horror. A gust of wind blew into the room, even though the windows were shut. The closet doors clattered back and forth, seemingly on their own. Hannah screamed raspily.

    Hearing Hannah’s screams, Angelique rushed into the bedroom. “Hannah! What is it?” But even Angelique could not deny that she saw things moving on their own.

    “That-that portrait!” Hannah gasped, pointing. “It’s EYES were glowing!”

    Angelique looked, but Josette’s image looked normal. Angelique’s eyes narrowed, and she walked over to Josette’s painting, staring at it intently.

    “I’ll not come back up to this room!” Hannah exclaimed. “I won’t—never!” With that, she turned and ran out of the room and down the stairs as fast as a woman in her fifties could run.

    Angelique scowled and looked back at Josette’s face. “I’ve about had enough of you!” she spat at the portrait. “This is MY house now, Josette, and there’s NOTHING you can do about it!” With that, Angelique took Josette’s portrait off of the wall and carried it out of the room.

    Downstairs, Hannah had already gotten in her car and left with the squealing of tires. Angelique looked at the open front door and shook her head. Carrying Josette’s portrait to the fireplace, Angelique stood and stared at it for a moment. “You no longer belong in this house!” she told the portrait. “I command you to leave, and never return!” Angelique flung Josette’s portrait in the fire, and watched it burn with a gleeful satisfied grin on her face…

    Act One:

    Tony and Quentin sat in the Drawing Room to discuss Chris’s trust fund for Amy, while preparing for Chris and Sabrina’s double funeral.

    "It's quite a complicated affair," Tony told Quentin. "Basically, Sabrina named Chris, instead of her brother Ned, as her sole beneficiary. Now, with Chris deceased as well, Amy is now the beneficiary of both wills, with you as executor, Quentin..."

    Quentin took a gulp of brandy and grimaced. "Amy... how am I going to help her if I can't even help myself? Everything is falling apart around me, Tony," Quentin sighed.

    Outside the Drawing Room, Dameon stood outside and eavesdropped.

    Tony leaned forward with his own brandy. "Then there's the other matter of Amy's guardianship, Quentin. You say you're a distant cousin on Chris's mother's side? Well, we have to put out a letter in the major newspapers, and if no other relative claims Amy, you can apply for custody of her while she's still a minor.

    Quentin stood up and poured himself some more brandy. "All right Tony, but I still think Elizabeth should be Amy's guardian. I don't think I can be much use to her.... In fact, I've decided to leave Collinwood. With Dameon around, and with everything else that's happened, I don't feel like I have any other choice."

    Dameon narrowed his eyes and frowned as he listened.

    “Are you sure leaving is the best decision, Quentin?” Tony asked. Quentin nodded sadly, taking another gulp of brandy…

    After Tony’s meeting with Quentin, he took Laszlo to the Old House to visit Angelique one last time. Laszlo was returning to New York to record his new record, and Tony insisted on driving him to the train station.

    “Wow, you’ve certainly changed things around here!” Tony remarked, staring at all the changes in the downstairs of the Old House. He had visited a couple of years ago, when Barnabas was still the master of the Old House, instead of secretly entombed in the Secret Room.

    “I wish I could see it, Angelique…” Laszlo said, feeling the plushness of the sofa.

    “Maybe you can, someday,” Angelique told him. “Are you still seeing sparks of light?”

    “Now and then,” Laszlo answered. “While I’m in New York, I’m going to go see an eye specialist. I haven’t seen one since I was a teenager and was told there was no hope I would ever see again.”

    “I’m glad you’ve decided to see a specialist, Laszlo,” Angelique told him, stroking the side of his face. “I just know you’ll be able to see ME someday! Oh, and speaking of seeing ME, I wish you could see my new portrait.” Angelique walked over to the armchair beside the fireplace and picked up her picture. The pieces of wood frame from Josette’s portrait still smoldered in the fireplace…

    Act Two:

    “Wow, Angelique! It looks just like you!” Tony exclaimed. He studied Angelique’s portrait, still thinking about how he could have sworn he met her at some point in years past…

    “Can you help me hang it up, Tony?” Angelique asked. “I have John’s toolbox right here. He’s out on errands right now, and I just can’t wait another moment.”

    “Certainly,” Tony answered. He took off his suit jacket and opened up the toolbox.

    “I wish I could see it,” Laszlo remarked bitterly, while Tony stepped on the stool in front of the fireplace to hammer in the picture hangings.

    “You WILL, I have a great feeling about it!” Angelique gave him a little hug. She looked over at the fireplace and watched as the last of Josette’s portrait disintegrated in the fire…

    Meanwhile, at the Great House, Quentin sat up in his chambers in the West Wing, finishing off the bottle of brandy. He sat drunkenly in an armchair, listening to the ancient Victrola as it played the music he used to listen to all the time when he was a young man, over seventy years ago.

    Dameon came into the room without knocking, holding a bottle of champagne and some glasses. He stopped and shook his head at the drunk Quentin sitting there, listening to the old-timey music. “Wow, you sure have some strange tastes in music, Grant!” He set the champagne and glasses on the little table and sat in the chair next to Quentin.

    Quentin looked over at Dameon and grinned. “I’ll have you know this was ex… ex-tree… extreme… really popular when I was young…”

    Dameon laughed and reached over and poured the champagne in the two glasses. “I hear we’re leaving Collinwood… So, I got some champagne to have a little going-away party.” He took Quentin’s brandy and handed him the glass of champagne.

    Quentin took the glass of champagne and stared at Dameon. “How d’ya know that?”

    “Oh, I was eavesdropping during your visit with Tony Peterson today,” Dameon explained, as he sipped the champagne. “Are we going back to Portland? It’s a shame, really, to leave this place… I mean, the house in Portland is nice, of course, but this…” He gestured around the room.

    Quentin leaned forward in his seat and swayed back and forth. “Whataya mean—WE? You’re going back to Portland. I gave you the house, remember? I’m goin’ far away—I don’t even care where anymore…”

    Dameon sipped his champagne and smiled. “And what about our poor dearly departed old friend, Frederick? You may not be going too far away, Grant, if you go to the state prison for murder…”

    Quentin laughed and drank his champagne. “You’re still going to hold that over my head, Dameon? Frederick wasn’t the first person I’ve killed in my one hundred and thirty years on this Earth!”

    Dameon just stared at Quentin in disbelief…

    Act Three:

    “Oh Grant, a hundred and thirty years?” Dameon scoffed with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not surprised Frederick wasn’t the first murder you’ve committed, but over a hundred years? I’ve always suspected you’re older than you look—but not that old!”

    Quentin stopped swaying and appeared to sober up. He looked Dameon straight in the eyes. “It’s true. I have an old painting in the attic that keeps me as young and alive as I was seventy years ago.”

    Dameon shook his head in disbelief. He gave a little chuckle, but he saw that Quentin was serious. Dameon was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “All right, prove it! Show me this “magic” painting that keeps you young!”

    Quentin nodded. “All right, I WILL!” He got up from the arm chair a little unsteadily. He dropped the champagne glass on the floor with a shatter and grabbed Dameon’s arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

    Dameon brought a flashlight with them as he helped the drunkenly swaying Quentin up the attic stairs. Cobwebs and dust covered the maze of furniture, portraits, and knick-knacks that occupied the large Collinwood attic. Dameon peered around the darkness.

    “Turn on that lamp above you!” Quentin commanded. Dameon pulled the switch, and Quentin looked around, trying to remember where he had stashed his portrait after Julia had rediscovered it for him a few months ago.

    Quentin found it where he had left it—behind an Oriental screen in case someone else came up to the attic to look for something. “Here it is!” he called over to Dameon. He pulled off the sheet covering the portrait and stepped aside so that Dameon could see it. “Behold… the Portrait of Quentin Collins!”

    Dameon shone the flashlight at the old picture, and gasped in revulsion at what was painted there. The picture did not look anything like the tall, handsome, young-looking man that stood beside him. The portrait held a decaying zombie dressed in late Nineteenth Century clothes.

    Dameon held his free hand up to his face and looked at Quentin with disgust. “Is this some kind of joke?”

    Quentin smiled and shook his head. “No, no joke. As you can see, the image in the painting decays, while I stay young. The only way to end my life is to destroy the painting.” Quentin stepped close to Dameon and put his hands on Dameon’s shoulders. “So, why don’t you do it old friend? I don’t want to live anymore, anyway…”

    Dameon backed away and shook his head in confusion. “No, you’re joking… A hundred and thirty years old… A magic painting with some sort of zombie painted on it… You’re sick Grant, really sick!”

    Quentin chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, I’m sick all right. I deserve every bad thing that’s ever happened to me…” He pulled the sheet over the offending portrait and replaced the screen in front of it. “Come on, let’s go finish that champagne in my room.”

    As Quentin led Dameon out of the attic, Dameon turned and looked back at the Oriental screen, wondering if there was any truth to what Quentin was saying…

    Cast:

    Tony Peterson… JERRY LACY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    Laszlo Ferrari… MICHAEL STROKA

    Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE

    Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES
     
  6. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1005: Rise And Fall

    Fri. May 1, 1970

    Today has been one of the difficult days Quentin Collins has ever had… For Sabrina Stuart and Chris Jennings' double funeral has been held… Returning to Collinwood after the funeral, Quentin has decided to tell Angelique that he plans to leave Collinwood forever…

    Angelique walked with Quentin back to Collinwood after Chris and Sabrina’s funeral. A reception was being held at the Collinsport Inn, but Quentin did not feel as though he could stand to attend. He let Roger and David, along with Mrs. Johnson, go without him.

    After coming inside the front doors of the Great House, Quentin immediately went for the liquor cart in the Drawing Room. “Do you think that is wise, Quentin?” Angelique asked, concernedly. “You told me about your hangover this morning, and how you couldn’t remember what you did last night…”

    Quentin gulped down some brandy and grimaced. “I’m pretty sure I only dreamt that I showed Dameon my portrait.”

    “It doesn’t help to be too careful,” Angelique admonished. “Do you think you can trust your… friend?”

    “My friend…” Quentin said with a chuckle. “Dameon would steal from his own mother, if he thought it could benefit him!”

    Angelique looked surprised. “Why are you friends with him, then? Why let him stay at Collinwood?”

    Quentin looked wistful. “We have a history, Angelique. For years in Portland, he was the only person I could talk to…” Quentin looked up at Angelique. “We’re both leaving—tomorrow at the latest—but I cannot stay at Collinwood…”

    “Quentin!” Angelique exclaimed. “No! What about me, Quentin? And what about Maggie Evans, too! When she comes back from visiting her sick aunt…”

    “Maggie…” Quentin murmured, thinking of the stack of postcards from Boston and the letters he had from her, mostly unread, all of them unanswered. His romance with Maggie seemed a million years ago…

    They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Angelique answered for Quentin, and found Horace Gladstone standing there. “Horace!” Angelique gasped. She looked back to the Drawing Room nervously.

    “I’d like to speak to Mr. Quentin Collins,” Horace Gladstone said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Angelique…” he whispered.

    “Certainly,” she answered, “Horace.” Angelique shook her head with bemusement. She closed the doors behind them as Horace took off his coat and looked around the Great Hall with awe.

    “You have a visitor,” Angelique called into the Drawing Room. She walked in with Horace in tow, who smiled as he looked into the room at Quentin…

    Act One:

    Quentin barely looked up from pouring himself another brandy. “Who’re you?” he demanded, raising an eyebrow and swigging down his glass of brandy…

    “Mr. Horace Gladstone,” Horace offered his hand to shake, and Quentin quickly took it before setting the brandy decanter back onto the cart. Horace looked over at Angelique for help. “I was at the funeral… I worked with Sabrina at the library… I’m very sorry for what happened.”

    “Thank you,” Quentin answered. He took his newly refilled brandy and sat on the sofa.

    Horace glanced at Angelique again, and walked over to the sofa. “Uh, Mr. Collins… Do you happen to know what happened to the moon poppy I gave Miss Stuart? You see, I have a greenhouse on my property, and I was the one who gave it to her… as a gift.”

    Quentin stared at Horace in surprise. “You… gave Sabrina the moon poppy? Why?” Quentin leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “How much do you know, Mister… Gladstone… was it?”

    Horace looked down. “Well, I’ve been reading the papers for the past two years, and I put two and two together since Sabrina started working at the library…” Horace glanced back at Quentin. “It’s surprising the secrets people will talk about out loud when they think no one is listening…” Horace looked over at Angelique. “It pays to be an unremarkable-looking, quiet man, I guess.”

    Quentin shook his head with amazement. “Then you can guess what really happened to Sabrina, then.”

    Horace nodded. “I presumed the creature finally killed her…”

    Quentin sipped at his brandy. “And with Chris also dead, I suppose there’s no reason to tell anyone else about this, is there?” Quentin looked pointedly at him.

    “No, no one would believe me anyway,” Horace admitted. “Mr. Jaeger is probably the only person who would… Mrs. Rumson, I noticed that he was not at the funeral today. Would you happen to know where I could find him?”

    “Of course,” Angelique conceded. “John is staying at my home. Come, I’ll take you to see him. He was extremely depressed after what happened to Sabrina—he really thought he could save her…”

    “I know,” Horace nodded. “Well, Mr. Collins, it was nice finally meeting you… Next time I see you at the Blue Whale, I’ll buy you a drink!”

    Quentin smiled and nodded sadly, thinking how everyone wanted to help Chris and Sabrina, but ultimately failed. As Angelique and Horace walked out of the house, Quentin could only shake his head in amazement that there was someone actively trying to help Chris and Sabrina that whole time…

    Act Two:

    “That was quite a performance, Horace,” Angelique told Horace on their walk along the path to the Old House. “I had no idea that you were helping Chris and Sabrina—a MOON POPPY, indeed!” She shook her head with dismay. “Well, it was a fruitless effort, anyway… Our Master got his payment of pain and misery, after all!”

    “I only wanted to see if it would work!” Horace hissed. “If it had, Chris Jennings and Sabrina Stuart would have been indebted to me!”

    When they reached the Old House, Angelique called up the stairs in the foyer, “John! I’ve brought a visitor who wants to see you!”

    After a few minutes, John came moping down the stairs in a state of deep depression. He had been laying in bed, and now, had hastily put on some clothes to meet them. “You!” he exclaimed when he saw Horace standing in the foyer.

    “Hello, Mr. Jaeger,” Horace smiled. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you wanted. I tried to help Sabrina, myself. I gave her the moon poppy to use on her boyfriend—I probably never should have interfered… I must admit.”

    John was amazed. “You knew all along? I don’t believe it!” He stepped off the stairs. “The moon poppy? That’s a real thing?”

    “Yes, I have my own greenhouse,” Horace said. “Come, let me tell you all about it…”

    Angelique left the two men to talk in the drawing room, and walked upstairs to go to her new room. While Horace was explaining everything to John, they heard the shrillest scream either man had ever heard before. John and Horace stared at each other, then got up and ran upstairs. They found Angelique standing in her room, standing in shock, just inside the doorway.

    “No!” Angelique cried, pointing to the wall, where Josette’s portrait now hung once again. It was completely unscathed—it was as though it had never been burned and destroyed in the fireplace. Angelique brought her hands up to her mouth. “No…”

    John looked over at the painting on the wall, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand, Angelique… Isn’t that the portrait you said you burned—the one you didn’t care for?”

    “Yes,” Angelique nodded, gulping with a mixture of fear and anger, “And it seems to have made a miraculous recover!” She glared at Josette’s face—it seemed to have an expression of satisfaction, now. Angelique turned to Horace. “I think it’s about time we had another… meeting!”

    Act Three:

    Dameon found Quentin sitting and drinking, once again, in the Drawing Room. “Poor Grant,” Dameon smiled. “Your friends are gone, now. It’s just me and you, just like it always was.” He sat next to him on the sofa.

    Quentin shook his head and scowled. “Go away, Dameon, I’m not in the mood.”

    Dameon ignored him and poured some brandy into the glass to take some for himself. “The only thing left to do now is to break it off with that Angelique woman, and then things can finally get back to the way they were before…” He lifted up the glass and took a sip.

    Quentin swiped the glass out of Dameon’s hand, causing it to go flying. “Things are NOT going to go back to the way they were in Portland!” he barked at Dameon, his face red with anger. “I told you I’m going to leave Collinwood! And besides, I don’t let others tell me who I can and cannot see!”

    Dameon wiped the brandy off of his mouth and smiled wryly. “It’s entirely, up to you, GRANT, but we wouldn’t want another little accident happen to the lovely Mrs. Rumson, now would we?”

    Quentin shook his head in confusion. “Accident? What are you talking about, what accident?”

    Dameon stood up. “Remember two weeks ago? Remember she was attacked in the alley? Well, I can’t take full credit for that little ‘accident’, but I could arrange for it to happen again, if you don’t get rid of her!” Dameon stared at Quentin for a moment, then walked out of the Drawing Room to head up the staircase.

    Quentin got up from the sofa and hurried to catch up with him. “Wait… are you telling me you set that up? Dameon!”

    Dameon continued up the stairs, but stopped at the balcony overlooking the Great Hall. “That’s right, Quentin! And unless you start listening to me, and start doing what I say, she might not be so lucky, next time!”

    Quentin’s long legs took him quickly up the stairs, and he finally caught up to him on the balcony. “You bastard…” Quentin shook his head with disgust. “You’re even worse than I ever thought!” Dameon turned to open the hall door, but Quentin grabbed him by the jacket lapels.

    “Let go of me, Grant!” Dameon hissed. He pushed against Quentin’s chest, but Quentin grasped his jacket tightly.

    “You’re gonna leave Collinwood, right now!” Quentin demanded. “And if I ever see you again, ever—I swear to God that I’ll KILL you!”

    Quentin let go of Dameon’s lapels, just as Dameon attempted one more shove on Quentin’s chest. Dameon fell backwards against the wobbly balcony railing, but this time, it broke with a sickening snapping sound.

    Dameon reached out towards Quentin and grabbed Quentin’s jacket, as Quentin tried to stop Dameon’s fall by grabbing his arm. But neither man was able to hold on, and Quentin watched with horror as Dameon fell backwards to the floor of the Great Hall below…

    Cast:

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK

    Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS

    Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES
     
  7. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1006: The Seance

    Mon. May 4, 1970

    At the Old House, Angelique has taken over as mistress of the ancient home—but a ghostly inhabitant has decided to fight back… After burning the portrait of Josette Collins, Angelique has been shocked to her very core to find that the painting of Josette has re-materialized…

    After talking John into having a séance with her and the rest of the coven, Angelique called Hannah on the phone. “I want you to come back to my house tonight, Hannah!”

    Hannah stood in her bizarrely decorated living room and frowned. “Tonight? Why?” Hannah frowned with worry. She did not want to go near that presence again!

    “We’re having a seance!” Angelique exclaimed. “At eight o’ clock—I expect you to be there!” After Angelique finished the phone call, she decided to ask Quentin to join them, in person. As she walked down the path to Collinwood from the Old House, she wondered if all her plans to take over were going to be ruined by one, solitary ghost...

    Angelique stopped at the front doors of the mansion and looked back to the path from her vantage point. “I hope Quentin is in decent enough shape to join us tonight, and not drunk with grief!” Angelique said out loud. She knew that he was deeply in mourning for Chris and Sabrina, but maybe the séance would help get his mind off of them, even for a little while. Besides, she needed time to convince him not to leave Collinwood—her plan up to this point was to marry Quentin and become a Collins again. If Quentin left, she would have to change almost everything

    Angelique knocked on the front doors, but neither Quentin, nor Mrs. Johnson, or even Roger answered… Knocking again, Angelique decided that everyone must still be at the funeral reception. She carefully opened the front doors and peered inside. “Hello?” she called into the Great Hall. No answer.

    Angelique stepped inside and closed the doors behind her. Turning around she switched on the lights next to the foyer and gasped in shock at what she saw...

    Dameon Edwards’ body lay on pieces of wood, his head twisted at an unnatural angle—his neck almost certainly broken. The table with the fisherman statue on it had flipped over from the force of Dameon’s body hitting it. Angelique glanced up at the balcony above the Great Hall, and realized that the pieces of wood were parts of the railing that had broken off.

    Angelique stooped over Dameon’s body, feeling for any sign of life. She looked up from the body and looked back up at the broken balcony above. She shook her head with dismay. "Quentin,” she gasped. “Quentin, what have you done?”

    Angelique got up and stepped over the table, and called out: “Mrs. Johnson! Quentin! Anyone?” She walked into the Drawing Room and lifted up the receiver of the desk phone. “Hello, police—I’m calling from Collinwood… There’s been an accident… One of the residents has fallen to his death!” Angelique listened to the officer and thought of Quentin, wondering where he was, what he was doing, and if he was responsible for Dameon’s death…

    Act One:

    Detective Larry Chase stood in the Great Hall of Collinwood, studying the debris all over the floor. The paramedics had already taken Dameon’s body out to the ambulance to take it to the hospital morgue. Angelique stood just outside, watching the ambulance pull away and head back down the driveway to town.

    “There’s been an awful lot of deaths around here, lately...” Larry said to Angelique as she walked back into the hall. “Where did you say the family was, again?”

    Angelique looked startled. “I assume they’re all still at the funeral reception—at... the Collinsport Inn!”

    “The deceased was the houseguest of…” Larry looked at his notepad, “A Mr. Quentin Collins… Is that correct?”

    Angelique shrugged and looked up towards the balcony. She wondered if Quentin was still somewhere in the house, but she did not want Detective Chase to talk to him until she had a chance to. “Of course—they were very good friends!”

    “And where would Quentin Collins be at the moment?” Larry asked Angelique, studying her reactions.

    “I assume he’s with the rest of his family—I just got here myself when I found the body—as I told you before!” Angelique snapped.

    “So... Dameon Edwards was here, all alone,” Larry pressed, “No one was—“

    Just then, the phone rang, and Angelique hurried into the Drawing Room to answer it. “Hello, Collinwood residence?”

    There was a pause of a few seconds, then a woman with a thick Boston accent started to speak. “Yeah, hello? I’m callin’ for a Dameon Edwards? Is he at home right now?”

    Angelique rolled her eyes. “Mr. Dameon Edwards is deceased!”

    There was another pause of a few seconds, then the woman spoke. “Wha-at?” she croaked.

    “Mr. Edwards just had a horrible…” Angelique looked over at Detective Chase, “ACCIDENT! I’m afraid he can’t and won’t ever be coming to the phone!” With that, Angelique hung up the phone.

    At the Blue Whale, Buffie Harrington cradled the phone, staring ahead in a daze, her mouth slightly open. “Dameon…” she whispered…

    After Angelique hung up the phone, she went back out to the Great Hall to face Larry Chase again, but found the man stooped over the chalk outline of Dameon’s body. “What’s this?” he asked aloud, having noticed something glittering in the lamplight. He pulled a pair of tweezers out of his pocket, and a little plastic baggie. He picked up the little round, glittering object into the plastic baggie and held it up in the light.

    “What is it?” Angelique asked, frowning. She looked at the object he held up, and instantly recognized it as being one of the buttons on Quentin’s jacket that he wore that day.

    “Do you recognize this button? It looks like it came from a man’s suit jacket…” Larry held up the little bag in front of her face.

    Angelique shook her head. “No! Of course not! I’m sure I’ve never seen that button before!” she exclaimed. She looked away, wondering where Quentin could have gone…

    Act Two:

    A frantic Buffie looked behind the bar at the Blue Whale for some Kleenex. “It’s a lie,” she told herself. “It’s just some trick. That bitch lied to me…” she nodded to herself, dabbing the corner of her eyes with the newly-found Kleenex.

    She looked up to see Horace Gladstone and John Jaeger walk in. Buffie put on her most brilliant smile. “Hey guys! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two together before!”

    Horace smiled up at John. “Oh, we’re having a little party tonight, and John is feeling a little shy about going.” They sat down on some stools at the bar.

    “Yeah,” John glanced over at him. “Horace is buying me a drink to fortify me, in preparation…”

    “Oh, a party!” Buffie smiled, still sniffling a little bit. “I’d love to come, if you want me?”

    John smiled in agreement and looked over at Horace, but Horace shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Harrington, but it’s a very small, intimate group at someone else’s house, and I’m not sure how the person would feel about an uninvited guest… Maybe the next time—I’ll mention you to her…”

    Buffie smiled again, but looked crestfallen. “Yeah, next time… Okay guys, what’ll it be?!”

    John gave Buffie a weak little smile. “I’m sorry Buffie—I don’t really want to go, myself.”

    Buffie shook her head at John. “It’s all right—really, it is! Now, what can I get you?”

    While they were ordering, Detective Larry Chase walked into the Blue Whale. “Has any of you seen a Mr. Quentin Collins?” he interrupted them at the bar.

    John, Horace and Buffie all glanced at each other questioningly. They all shook their heads. “No—not at all,” Buffie spoke up. “He hasn’t been in here all day.”

    “Well, he hasn’t been at the Collins family’s funeral reception for Sabrina Stuart and Chris Jennings, either!” Larry told them. “I’d like to find him so I can ask him a few questions!”

    “Why are you looking for Quentin Collins?” John asked. “What’s he got to do with you?” he demanded.

    “A Mr. Dameon Edwards was found dead at Collinwood today—and I’m the detective assigned to the case!” he showed them all his badge.

    Everyone looked shocked, but none looked quite as despairingly as Buffie did, who had to quickly turn away from the bar so that no one could see the tears well up in her eyes…

    Act Three:

    Angelique, Hannah, Horace and John sat in a circle in the drawing room at the Old House. All the electric lights were off and the Old House was lit by candlelight like it always had been until a week ago.

    “I still don’t think we should be doing this, Angelique,” Hannah told her. “I felt that presence upstairs and—“

    “I’m not discussing it any more, Hannah!” Angelique snapped. She looked over at John. “Don’t listen to her John, she’s just an old worrywart…” Angelique turned to each person around the table. “Tonight we are gathered here to contact a higher power—someone who can exorcise this house of the spirit that is trying to drive ME away!”

    John closed his eyes and grimaced. ‘This is so crazy,’ he thought to himself. He could not believe that Angelique had really talked him into this. It was all nonsense, right? But then, John thought about his visions of Sabrina and the werewolf, and realized that anything was possible in this world…

    “Everyone put your hands on the table!” Angelique commanded. “Everyone’s hands must touch the person's on either side of them!” Angelique put her own hands down on the table, and touched Horace’s with her right, and Hannah’s with her left. John sat directly across from her. “Now, we must have complete silence, while everyone concentrate’s on our objective!”

    John kept his eyes closed and concentrated. ‘Is there anyone there?’ he thought to himself. ‘Is there anyone who can help Angelique?’ He kept thinking the same thing over and over. After a few minutes, he began to feel strange, numb. A buzzing sound started to form in his ears, and a pulsating, vibrating feeling started to form around his neck…

    John groaned out loud, and Angelique’s eyes snapped opened. She looked over and saw him with his eyes shut, moaning, his head flopping down. “Ohhhh!” Horace and Hannah looked over at him with surprise.

    “Who is it? Who’s there?” Angelique whispered, breathless with anticipation.

    John opened his eyes with horror and screamed. “No!” Suddenly, a wind blew through the drawing room, and made all of the candles blow out, plunging them into darkness.

    Hannah screamed with terror, and stood up, knocking her chair down behind her. “I-I’m not staying here!” she exclaimed.

    “Hannah!” Angelique shouted. “Stay seated! The circle cannot be broken!” Hannah did not listen, of course, and Angelique heard her run out of the house, not even shutting the door behind her.

    Angelique quickly got up and turned on the nearest lamp. She turned back to the table, and saw that John was staring at her with a wicked smile on his face. “Angelique…” he said, in a voice that was not his own…

    Cast:

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK

    Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS

    Hannah du Noir… PAULA LAURENCE

    Dameon Edwards… JERED HOLMES

    Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS

    Larry Chase… KEN McEWEN
     
  8. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1007: The Body Thief

    Tue. May 5, 1970

    In the month since Barnabas Collins was chained inside his coffin, Angelique Rumson has taken over as mistress of the Old House... Barnabas lies trapped, desperate to interfere, as Angelique holds a seance with her coven to try and rid the home of the ghost of Josette Collins, once and for all...


    Every day it was the same. His dreams took him back to the past, when he was alive and free. Back to when he was young, and in love. But, he found himself going in circles, never completely able to find her…

    Then the dreams ended, and he awoke to the darkness, and the nothingness around him—and the confusion set in—until there was an awareness that it was another night—and he was still imprisoned...

    Every evening he went through the same routine... Unable to leave his coffin, he lay there and listened... Often he heard Angelique, planning and scheming, talking to him through the wall…

    But, there was another presence in the Old House, a stranger—who he was, Barnabas was not sure of—but the stranger would sit and read, and he would read his thoughts as he read…

    He guessed that this man was troubled. He seemed to not have a past—or, if he had a past he blocked it out so completely that Barnabas could not find it…

    It was on this night, that his thoughts seemed to be sent directly to him—“Is there anyone there?” the stranger thought out to him, “Is there anyone who can help Angelique?” his thoughts reached out to him.

    Barnabas scowled in the darkness… Help Angelique, indeed! So, Barnabas concentrated—relaxing his mind, body and spirit—as he focused on the stranger’s thoughts, reaching out to him, letting his mind’s eye meet his…

    There was a terrified scream, and someone stood up, knocking their chair down to the floor. “I-I’m not staying here!” a woman’s voice exclaimed.

    “Hannah!” Angelique shouted in the darkness. “Stay seated! The circle cannot be broken!” Hannah did not listen, of course, and Barnabas heard her run out of the house, not even shutting the door behind her.

    Barnabas heard Angelique get up and turn on the nearest lamp. Barnabas blinked and looked at the illuminated room, but his new mortal eyes were not as sensitive to the light as his own had been.

    Angelique turned back to the table, and Barnabas smiled at the witch. “Angelique…” he said, in a voice that was not his own.

    Angelique stared at him, and Barnabas deliberated whether he should tell her who he really was, or let her think that he was her new handyman. While he deliberated, he looked over towards his left and saw a balding man staring at him.

    “Who are you?” Angelique asked tentatively. “Master?” She put her hands up on the back of the wooden table chair nervously…

    Act One:

    Barnabas chuckled a little with his strange, new vocal cords. A third opportunity had presented itself—pretend to be Satan, Himself! But, he decided against it—it was easier to pretend to be this new handyman. He scoffed. “I’m no ‘Master’ of yours, Angelique!”…

    Angelique looked relieved, despite herself. “Are you all right, John?” She glanced over at Horace, but he shook his head questioningly.

    “Of course I’m all right!” Barnabas insisted. He stood up on his new, long, lean legs and stretched. He looked around the room, surprised at all that had been changed since Julia and Willie had imprisoned him back in his coffin. The most surprising difference had to be the new electrical lights.

    Angelique stood next to him. “You were groaning, as if you felt something—some presence.”

    “And then you shouted, “No!” just before the candles blew out!” Horace added.

    Barnabas glanced over at his bookcase prison, but his eyes were drawn to the huge portrait of Angelique that hung above the fireplace. “When did that get put up there?” Barnabas exclaimed. He stepped over towards the fireplace and stared at the portrait, while Angelique and Horace just stared at each other…

    Meanwhile, Doctor Julia Hoffman drove back to Collinsport from Windcliff, her station-wagon filled with boxes and suitcases from her apartment near the hospital. It had been a month of reflection and decision-making, for Julia had decided to join the staff of the Collinsport University Hospital, as the resident psychiatrist.

    “Bridge Over Troubled Water” played over the radio, and Julia found herself crying again, despite herself. “Oh, Chris…” she sobbed out loud as she drove, “I failed you…” Julia wiped the corner of her eye as she drove, thinking of all the times she should have looked after Chris instead of Barnabas.

    “Barnabas…” she said out loud, shaking her head with dismay. All that time in 1897, and she was really needed here, in the present time. She thought of Barnabas, still locked away in his coffin at the Old House, or so she assumed. “I can’t see you again, Barnabas, I can’t…”

    Part of the reason Julia had taken the job at University Hospital was that she wanted to be close to the Collins family, without actually living at Collinwood. She had phoned Quentin a week ago, inquiring about any rental properties she could move into, but it ended up being Roger who go back to her. He had agreed to rent her Seaview, the home that Nicholas Blair had once rented. Julia, quite familiar with the home, decided it would be the best home in Collinsport for her to stay in while she worked at the hospital.

    As “Bridge Over Troubled Water” came to an end, Julia grabbed a handkerchief out of her purse on the passenger seat and dabbed at her eyes. It wasn’t just guilt that made her cry over Chris. Julia had been attracted to the young man, despite herself. She would never in a million years have told him so, but she had to admit to herself that if he had not been the twin brother of Tom Jennings, the vampire, she would never have been so invested in helping him. Julia thought of the moon poppy she had collected a month ago. She had just started to isolate the properties of the flower that made it combat the werewolf cells, when she heard the news about Chris and Sabrina’s, deaths.

    Julia turned into the driveway of Seaview. Only the light of the moon lit the mysterious home. No lights shone in any of the windows, nor did there seem to be an outside light. “Roger probably didn’t have the power turned on, yet,” she mused to herself. Leaving the car lights on for a few minutes, Julia grabbed a suitcase and her purse, making her way onto the front porch of the house…

    Act Two:

    At the Old House, Barnabas stared in shock at the portrait that hung above the fireplace. Angelique loomed above him in an elegant blue dress, an evil, self-satisfied look upon her face.

    Angelique came up beside him and place a hand on his shoulder. Barnabas jumped a little, despite himself. “You’ve seen that portrait before, John. Remember, yesterday? I told you I had Tony Peterson hang it up while you were gone.”

    Barnabas turned to the blonde witch and nodded. He remembered reading John’s thoughts that a new portrait had been hung up, but seeing it in person was a shock to him. “Well, yes, I’m sorry Angelique, I just momentarily forgot… That’s all.”

    Angelique stared at Barnabas for a moment, looking over at Horace, who was also staring at him. “Are you SURE that you’re John Jaeger?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

    “Of course I am!” Barnabas snapped. He had to get out of this house—it was no longer his! If he stayed, there was no telling what Angelique would do!

    “Well,” Angelique said. “There’s still three of us here—why don’t we try and make contact again?” She looked over at Horace, who nodded in agreement.

    “I’m game if you are, my dear,” Horace said. “Come John, sit down. I don’t think Hannah is coming back tonight… Maybe never.”

    Angelique’s face flushed. “Hannah is a fool! A flighty, nervous fool! We should have never agreed to let her into the co… group.”

    “I’m not going through another séance!” Barnabas protested. “Not now, not ever!” Barnabas knew that if he agree to sit down with them, there was a chance that John Jaeger would push him out of his body.

    “John, wait!” Angelique called after him, but Barnabas strode into the foyer and looked at the coat rack for what looked like something John Jaeger would wear. Finding a poncho that looked suitably youthful, he started to put it on.

    Barnabas saw that there was a mirror in the foyer, and realizing that he could now see himself as a mortal man, he checked his appearance in it. Seeing the tall, curly haired blond man in the mirror, Barnabas brought his hands up to his face. “Jeb Hawkes…” he murmured, wondering if he was now inhabiting his former foe’s body.

    “John!” Angelique strode into the foyer, Horace close behind her. “What are you doing? You’re not going out now, are you?” she demanded.

    Barnabas turned away from the mirror, deciding that he was not in Jeb’s body, for he HAD been reading John’s mind for weeks now, and there had been no indication that he was Jeb Hawkes. “I’ve got to go, Angelique!” he exclaimed. He turned and opened the doors to get out of the house before Angelique could possibly use her witchcraft on him. “Don’t wait up for me!” Barnabas rushed out into the night air, exhilarated to finally be free from his dark, lonely prison…

    Act Three:

    Julia brought the last box in from her station-wagon and set it in the parlor of Seaview. She had lit several candles, finding that Roger had not had the power turned on yet. The phone was not working either. “I’ll have to stop by Collinwood tomorrow!” Julia shook her head.

    Deciding there was nothing else to do, but go to bed, at least for tonight, Julia picked up a candelabra and took it upstairs with her to go and find the master bedroom. After looking in both a bathroom, and a small bedroom, she finally found what looked like the master bedroom. She set the candelabra on the nearest dresser and turned to look around the room. A shadowy figure sat up on the bed. Julia brought her hand up to her mouth in her characteristic gesture and let out a loud, raspy scream…

    Barnabas walked down the path from the Old House to the beach below, wondering at the sights and sound of the night. Oh, how he had missed it! When he was a vampire he missed the daytime, but now, after being locked away for a month, he found that the night sounds and smells were intoxicating to him. His senses were not as strong as when he was a vampire, but this mortal body would do just fine.

    Barnabas walked for a long while along the seashore, enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, as the moonlight made the water glitter across the sea. Barnabas found himself walking so long, that eventually he saw another house looming ahead—Seaview, the property that the Collins family owned, and occasionally rented it out. Barnabas saw that several candles were burning inside the house through the windows.

    Curious to see the new inhabitants, Barnabas walked up the sandy hill and saw a familiar-looking station-wagon parked in the driveway. “Julia?” he asked himself out loud. “No, it can’t be, Julia would never leave Collinwood,” Barnabas shook his head. But, he used to think Julia would have never chained him up in his coffin, either.

    Finally reaching the house, Barnabas crept in the bushes and tried to peer inside without being seen. He had to be more careful now, now that he was in a mortal body. Barnabas gasped when he saw Julia and Quentin walking down the staircase. Barnabas strained to hear what was being said inside with his new, mortal ears…

    “I’m sorry, Julia!” Quentin said sheepishly. “I certainly didn’t think Roger had rented this house out yet.” He stepped off of the staircase to join Julia in the candlelit parlor.

    “Quentin, don’t you remember I asked you about renting, just last week!” Julia admonished. She looked around the room for any liquor that might still be around.

    Quentin sighed. “I’m sorry, Julia!” He lifted a dusty sheet back and slumped down on the sofa. “So much has happened lately. Sabrina, Chris, Amy… And now, today, an old friend of mine…”

    “What old friend?” Julia asked. She went over to the nearest chair and pulled off the dust-covered sheet to sit on it. “Don’t tell me…”

    “Yeah…” Quentin nodded. “His name was Dameon Edwards… I just watched him die today. I saw him fall off the balcony at Collinwood.”

    Julia gasped out loud, clutching her throat. “Quentin, no!” She shook her head with dismay. “Oh, when will the tragedy end!”

    “Never, Julia!” Quentin said sadly. “Not as long as we’re alive, anyway…” Quentin over at the red-haired doctor. “That’s why I have to leave Collinwood—I came here to spend the night, to get away—but tomorrow, I’m leaving Collinsport… Forever!”

    Outside the window, Barnabas narrowed his eyes. He felt bad for his old friends, but there was nothing he could do to help them. He knew that if he revealed himself, they would never allow him to keep inhabiting this man’s body. “Julia! Quentin! If only I could reveal myself!” Barnabas exclaimed outside the house, turning away from the window and walking off into the dark night…

    Cast:

    Dr. Julia Hoffman… GRAYSON HALL

    Quentin Collins… DAVID SELBY

    Angelique Rumson… LARA PARKER

    Barnabas Collins/John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK

    Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS
     
  9. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1008: Call For Help

    Wed. May 6, 1970

    Dr. Julia Hoffman has returned to Collinsport… She has left her job at Windcliff to work at the local hospital, and is now renting the mansion, Seaview... Not wanting to return to Collinwood and face the memories of Barnabas Collins, Julia is unaware that Barnabas has found a novel way to escape his chained prison…

    When Julia came down the stairs at Seaview in the morning, she found that Quentin had already made some coffee for them. Julia noticed that a few lights were on. “I guess Roger had the power turned on, after all,” she remarked. Quentin looked at her and nodded as he brought a tray out of the kitchen.

    “I’m afraid there’s no milk or cream,” Quentin said, as he poured them some coffee in the parlor. “What was in the fridge was not edible…” The dusty sheets were off of all the furniture and placed in a pile in the corner of the room. Julia noticed that Quentin had a suitcase behind the sofa.

    “That’s all right,” Julia said, as she sat down. She really wished that she could have showered, but it was going to take all morning for the water heater to do its job. “I’ll just take a cube of sugar.”

    Quentin sat across from Julia and picked up his mug. He took a sip and said, “I guess this is it, Julia. I need to move on.”

    Julia put her mug down and stared at him. “Oh, Quentin! Can’t you stay? Just a little bit longer?” she begged. “With Willie gone, and Barnabas… Well, I need someone around who knows what I’ve been through—what we’ve been through!”

    Quentin smirked. “Angelique is at the Old House… So there will still be one of the old “gang” left…”

    Julia shook her head. “I don’t Trust Angelique! We made a truce—she helped when I went back to 1897—and she helped against the Leviathans! But, I’m not foolish enough to think she wouldn’t use us in a heartbeat!”

    Quentin looked down. “Angelique and I have grown close since you left a month ago… I know she’s selfish, but then, so am I. We have a history, she and I, and we’re privy to each other’s secrets. Well, she has her own secrets and I have my own, so I guess we’re even in that respect…”

    Julia leaned forward. “But why did she insist at staying at the Old House? With Barnabas hidden away there, it can’t be that comfortable for her there—especially with all the bad memories! You told me last night how she's modernized the place, made it her own… How can she stand it, knowing Barnabas is still there?”

    Quentin raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I really don’t know, Julia, and I really don’t care… With Sabrina, Chris and Dameon all dead, Amy staying at Windcliff, I just don’t care anymore…”

    Julia pursed her lips. “All right, Quentin. I need to go to Collinwood today and sign the rental agreement with Roger. Will you at least stay until I get back?”

    Quentin nodded, but he did not look happy. He stared down at his coffee mug…

    Act One:

    Later, as Julia left Seaview, she noticed that Quentin had parked his car away from the driveway, hidden by the trees from the main road. That was why she hadn’t seen it when she arrived in the dark last night. Julia dreaded going back to Collinwood—she certainly wouldn’t go near the Old House while she was there!

    As Julia turned into the main driveway, she saw the caretaker’s cottage, and her eyes began to well with tears at the thought of Chris. Julia gulped and steeled herself against another dam burst. “Not today, Julia,” she told herself. “Chris is gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

    When Julia arrived at the Great House, she got out of her stationwagon and stared at the mansion as it loomed above her. She could hear the crashing waves off into the distance. A pang filled her heart as she realized how much she missed this big house. Knocking on the front doors, she waited a minute and stared at the path that led to the Old House. The wind blew and Julia could have sworn she heard a disembodied voice in the wind’s howl: “Help meeeeeeee…

    Julia shook her head and turned back to the front doors, knocking again. She heard footsteps, and the doors flung open. “Doctor Hoffman!” David exclaimed.

    Julia stared with surprise at the light brown-haired youth. He seemed to have grown inches in the last month since she had seen him last. “David! How are you?” she gasped raspily. “My, you’ve grown!”

    “I’m all right,” David answered, as he stepped aside to let her in. “I thought you left here to go back to Windcliff,” he stated matter-of-factly, as only thirteen year-olds could.

    “I took a job at the Collinsport University Hospital,” Julia said, as she stepped inside the mansion and looked around. Nothing had changed here, of course, everything was the same. However, close inspection revealed that the hall table was different, smaller… And, was that a chip in the fisherman statue? Julia looked up the stairs and noticed that the balcony railing was gone. Julia saw Barnabas portrait on the wall, and quickly turned away from it. “How was your trip to Boston, David? I heard Roger was taking you to look at schools?”

    “It was fine,” David answered, but his tone indicated that it was anything but. “But I’m glad to be back. All Maggie talked about the whole time there was Quentin this, Quentin that… I’m glad she’s gone to look after her aunt!”

    “Oh, Maggie’s gone?” Julia asked. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

    David shrugged. “Who knows? She said when her aunt was better.” He turned towards the door and narrowed his eyes, as if he heard something outdoors.

    “I see,” nodded Julia. “David is your father home?” She noticed him staring at the front doors. “David?” she asked again.

    David turned back to the red-haired woman. “No, he’s already at the cannery.”

    The Drawing Room doors burst open. “Julia!” Angelique exclaimed. She was just as surprised to see Julia standing there as Julia was to see HER. Angelique narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know you were coming back!”

    “I’m just here to see Roger, but David told me he’s already left,” explained Julia. She raised her eyebrows at Angelique. “What are YOU doing here?”

    Angelique turned and went into the Drawing Room. “Tea, Julia? I was just sitting here, with David…”

    Julia followed her. Angelique sat on the sofa, and Julia sat down next to her. “What are you DOING here?” Julia hissed.

    Angelique poured some tea into a teacup and handed it to Julia. “That’s not very polite, Julia! I was just waiting for Quentin, that’s all.” She picked up her own teacup. “Quentin hasn’t been seen since yesterday… There’s was an unfortunate accident yesterday after the funeral—a houseguest died falling from the balcony!”

    Julia nodded as she sipped the tea and set it down on the saucer. She leaned back and smiled. “I know, Quentin told me!” Angelique stared at Julia with surprise…

    Act Two:

    While Julia followed Angelique into the Drawing Room to sit on the sofa and talk, David stood outside in the Great Hall, preoccupied with his own thoughts. He had felt uneasy all morning. He had awoken earlier to the sound of someone calling—begging for help. He had thought nothing of it at first, just a passing dream…

    It came again, first when Angelique had arrived to see an absent Quentin, David thought he heard it in the wind: “Help meeeeee!” the voice called, disguised by the wind howl. David tried to clear his thoughts, but he heard it again when Doctor Hoffman arrived. While Julia stood there and asked him questions, David could not shake the feeling that it was not the wind howling outside, but the cry for help. After Angelique took Julia into the Drawing Room to talk, David stood out in the hall, and found himself drawn to Barnabas’ portrait, for some reason…

    David stood and looked at Barnabas’ face—it seemed to be staring at him today, pleading with him. David tried to look away, but, as he tried to head back towards the Drawing Room to join Julia and Angelique, he heard a voice in his mind…

    “Help me, someone… I’m in the dark—there’s nothing here—nothing! I can’t move… Please, someone find me and let me out…”

    David stared back at the portrait, and was transfixed by Barnabas’ eyes. “Help me… Let me out…” the voice continued to say.

    “I will,” David answered. He did not know where the voice was coming from, but he felt himself being guided, as though by some unseen hand. He walked across the Great Hall, saw Julia and Angelique transfixed in their own conversation in the Drawing Room, and headed towards the front doors.

    In the Drawing Room, Angelique and Julia heard the doors slam shut and looked out the door. “Oh, it’s just David, probably going out for a walk, or something,” Angelique said. She turned back to Julia, “All right, Julia, I want to see him!”

    Julia turned away. “He doesn’t want to see anyone, Angelique! He wants to leave town and get away from all this… I don’t blame him, a month ago I felt the same way!”

    “The police were here yesterday, after the ‘accident’, asking all sorts of questions,” Angelique told her. “The detective found a button near Mr. Edwards’ body… It was Quentin’s button, from the jacket he was wearing yesterday!”

    Julia turned pale, as if a woman a pale as she was could get any whiter… “What did you tell him—the detective?”

    “I told him I never saw the button before, of course!” Angelique’s eyes glittered. “I need to see Quentin—he needs to burn that jacket, wherever he is!” She leaned forward in her seat. “And I need to see Quentin! If he leaves town, it will only look that much more suspicious to the police!”

    Julia looked away from the blonde witch and thought for a moment. Would it be better for Quentin to leave town—or to stay and face whatever accusations came his way? Julia decided and turned back to her. “All right, Angelique! Meet me at the cannery in half-an-hour and we’ll go together!”

    Meanwhile, David stood at the front door of the Old House. “Are you in here?” he asked out loud. He wondered who it could be—was it Barnabas? Had Barnabas gone back to England like everyone said, or was trapped somewhere inside the Old House?

    David gulped and opened the front door and peered inside. “Hello?” he called out quietly. He knew that Angelique had hired a new handyman, but David had not seen him yet. Hearing no reply, David stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him.

    “Hello? Where are you?” he called out. Suddenly, he heard the faint beating of a heart. He stepped towards the basement door, but heartbeat silenced. David stepped away from the basement door, and the heartbeat became faintly audible again.

    “Help me…” he could hear the voice in his mind. David stepped into the drawing room of the Old House, and the heartbeat grew louder. As he stepped towards the bookcase, the heartbeat sounded like the drums of a marching band…

    Act Three:

    David remembered that there was a secret room behind the bookcase—he had first learned of it four years ago when Victoria Winters had been kidnapped by Matthew Morgan. He reached behind the last book on the shelf to feel for the secret lever when…

    “What are you DOING here?” demanded Angelique, grabbing David by the arm. The heartbeat stopped, as David was no longer in tune with it.

    “I-I thought I heard something!” David stammered. He looked back at the bookcase again.

    “You shouldn’t come here, David!” Angelique insisted. “I’m glad I needed to come back and pick up something, or I never would have known you were here!” Angelique saw that David was staring at the bookcase. "You know about the secret room, don’t you?”

    David nodded. “Yes, I’ve known about it for years. I thought someone was calling for me from in there—calling for help.”

    Angelique smiled evilly. “Someone WAS calling for you, David—Barnabas!” She let go of David’s arm and walked over to the bookcase. She reached for the secret lever.

    Barnabas?” David’s eyes narrowed. “But, everyone said he went back to England!”

    Angelique shook her head, “No, David! Barnabas is in there, waiting for you!”

    “What? No, why would Barnabas be in the secret room?” David asked confusedly. “Are you holding him prisoner?”

    Angelique nodded. “Shall I let him out, David? Shall I?” she demanded. “I heard what happened three years ago, when no one would believe you about Barnabas… No one would believe you because you were just a little boy…”

    David stared at her, realizing for the first time how evil she truly was. “You know about that? Barnabas tried to kill me, but no one would believe me! I gave up trying to tell everyone—even Doctor Hoffman told them I was imagining things!”

    Angelique nodded with glee. She pressed the lever and the secret room made a grinding noise as it opened. David peered into the dark room and saw Barnabas’ coffin there. “Oh my God, it was true! I wasn’t imagining it!”

    Angelique stepped toward him and extended her hand. “Come, David… Shall I open the coffin and let him out? Isn’t that what you came here to do?”

    David backed away from her, a tear falling from his eye. “No… I don’t want to let Barnabas out!”

    “Don’t you want to at least see him, David?” Angelique asked sweetly.

    “No, no!” David practically shouted. Memories of a large vampire bat swooping towards him in his bedroom came flooding back. It had taken months to forget. David turned and ran out of the Old House.

    Angelique smiled triumphantly as she watched the boy run out. She knew that he would be too scared and ashamed to let anyone know. She stepped into the dark room and placed a hand on Barnabas’ coffin. “Why do you keep trying, Barnabas?” she asked. “You’ll never leave this place…Not until I say you do…”

    After Angelique closed the secret room, she left a note for John and went to meet Julia at the cannery. Angelique did not tell Julia about David, and the two women followed each other to Seaview.

    Upon pulling into the driveway of Seaview—Angelique’s car on her tail—Julia noticed that Quentin’s car was no longer parked in the trees. In fact, it wasn’t parked anywhere. Julia got out of her stationwagon and hurried into the house. Angelique followed her.

    “Where is he, Julia?” Angelique asked, looking around. She did not like being there again. Memories of being Nicholas Blair’s vampiress filled every room. She saw the redhead pick up a note in the parlor.

    Julia read the note and turned to Angelique. “He’s gone!” Julia gasped. “He’s left town for good!” Angelique stared at Julia in disbelief…

    Cast:

    Dr. Julia Hoffman…
    GRAYSON HALL

    Quentin Collins…
    DAVID SELBY

    David Collins…
    DAVID HENESY

    Angelique Rumson…
    LARA PARKER

    The Voice…
    ANTHONY SACCO
     
  10. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1009: Arrested Development

    Thu. May 7, 1970

    For once in her life, Angelique Rumson is not in control of those around her... For Angelique does not know where either man in her life is... After the seance the night before, John Jaeger disappeared into the night... And now, with Quentin Collins having left the mansion, Seaview, Angelique is at her wits end to find him...

    Roger Collins came home from the cannery to find the house empty for once. David was probably either up in his room or outdoors, somewhere. Quentin was God-knows-where. He had not shown up at the cannery since the day of the full moon. Roger reflected that with Liz and Carolyn coming back home tomorrow, that the house would not seem so quiet anymore—so he’d better enjoy it while he could.

    “Mrs. Johnson!” he called out from the Great Hall, his voice echoing across the vast emptiness. “I’m home!” No answer. “She’s probably out shopping…” he muttered. He walked to the Drawing Room to unwind and empty a bottle of scotch down his throat after a long, tedious day at work.

    Opening the Drawing Room doors, Roger jumped inside his skin to see a man sitting on the sofa. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, looking around the room for any sign of force entry.

    “Mr. Collins!” The dark-haired, bespectacled man stood up from the sofa. “Mr. Roger Collins? The name’s Larry Chase! Detective Larry Chase!” he proffered his hand, but Roger did not take it. “Your maid let me in. She said it was all right to wait in here, since you were so close to coming home…”

    Roger rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’ll have to speak to Mrs. Johnson about that… later!” He eyed the detective up and down. “Detective… Chase, did you say? Why are you here?”

    “It’s about that ‘little’ accident you had here after the funeral—in which a man fell to his death!” Larry exclaimed.

    Roger nodded. “I thought as much,” he said, walking over to the liquor cart. “Drink?” he asked, pouring some scotch into the glass.

    Larry shook his head. “Not while I’m on duty.” He pulled an official-looking piece of paper and showed to Roger. “I have a search warrant, here. Mr. Collins, I’m looking for evidence. I found a button near the body of Dameon Edwards—it belongs to a man’s suit jacket!”

    Roger glanced at the search warrant and frowned. “So what? I don’t see what it matters… People lose buttons all the time…”

    Larry brought out a baggie with the button inside. “The coroner found bruises on Dameon’s body not inflicted from the fall… The indentation of the button was still in the palm of his hand when he died…” He glanced down at the button. “And there were other things as well that make me think that the fall was no ‘accident’.”

    He glanced at Roger, who swigged his scotch down. “And then there’s your cousin, Quentin Collins… no one has seen nor heard from him since the funeral.”

    Roger shook his head with dismay. “Pshaw! All circumstantial! Quentin comes and goes as he pleases, all the time! I don’t see why you needed to get a search warrant! What incriminating evidence do you hope to find here, anyway?”

    “I need to search the room of every male that lives, or lived, in this house, and find the jacket this button goes to!” Larry said firmly. “We’ll start with the victim’s things first, then Quentin’s, and then yours, Mr. Collins! Once we’ve got the jacket, then the rest will start to fall in place!”

    Roger looked down, wondering if there really was something to it. He did not know Quentin THAT well, after all. They had helped Barnabas defeat the Leviathans, but what did he really know about this mysterious young cousin from France? Roger slammed down his glass. “Fine! If we must go through this charade, I insist on escorting you from room to room! I’ll take you to Mr. Edwards’ room first!”

    “Fine, Mr. Collins!” Larry brought his hands up and stood aside as Roger started to walk out of the Drawing Room. He began to follow him to the staircase. “But, I need to let you know that I don’t want you to interfere! I insist on going through each room, by myself!”

    “All right,” Roger nodded grimly. He began to walk up the stairs with Larry close at his heels, and he wondered if Quentin really had pushed his friend, Dameon Edwards over the balcony…

    Act One:

    A sweaty Quentin brought a stack of freshly cut firewood into Chris’s cabin on Green Mountain. Dropping the wood in front of the fireplace, Quentin sighed and wiped his brow with the sleeve of Chris’s flannel shirt that he had found and put on. Glancing up towards the table, he saw that the moon poppy was starting to perk up again,

    Quentin got up and walked over to it. He had found it wilting and barely alive on the floor of the cabin when he got there that morning. After standing the table back up and watering the plant, Quentin had busied himself by cleaning up the cabin—sweeping up the glass, throwing away any old food, gathering up Chris’s clothing… Quentin was even planning on boarding up the broken window later.

    For it was here that Quentin needed to be. After everything that had happened, it was Chris’s death that had affected him the most. Dameon’s had just been the final straw. “Oh Chris,” Quentin said outloud as he touched the wilted leaves of the moon poppy. “How I wish you were still here…” Quentin hugged himself in Chris’s flannel shirt and smelled his scent still left over in the fabric.

    Just then, Quentin heard the sound of a car outdoors. Tentatively peering outside the open window, he recognized Angelique’s powder blue convertible. Quentin quickly walked over to the open front door and watched her get out of the car.

    Angelique looked with relief to see Quentin standing in the doorway of the cabin. “Quentin! I knew you would be here, I just knew it!” She rushed away from the car and towards Quentin, flinging herself into his arms, kissing him on the cheek.

    Quentin looked surprised, staring down at Angelique as he put his hands on her shoulders. “Angelique, how on Earth did you find me here? I thought no one would think to look for me!”

    Angelique stared up at him with her big baby blues. “After Julia and I arrived back at Seaview to find you gone, we decided to split up and go into two different directions to go look for you.”

    Quentin shook his head in disbelief. “And YOU just decided to look up here on Green Mountain?”

    “Well, this wasn’t my first choice,” Angelique smiled. “I knew how much losing Chris hurt you, so I decided to check the caretaker’s cottage, his graveside, and THEN his cabin!”

    “Come in, I just started a fire and chopped some more wood, as you can probably tell by the way I look!” Quentin said, leading her into the cabin with an arm across her shoulders. “I’ll boil some water and make us some tea!”

    “All right, Quentin,” Angelique conceded. “But, we’re not staying here…”

    Quentin turned and stared at her as he lit the wood-burning stove. “We’re not? Why, where are we going?”

    Angelique sat in a chair and stared at him determinedly. “HOME, Quentin, that’s where we’re going… To Collinwood!”

    Quentin shook his head and stoked the flame inside the stove. He put the kettle on top to heat up the water. “Not anymore, Angelique! If you went with Julia back to Seaview, then you’ve no doubt read my note—I’m not going back!” He turned back to the stove. “After what happened to Dameon—I can’t ever go back to that house again!”

    “But Quentin, you must!” Angelique exclaimed. “The police are looking for you! You have to go back and clear your name!”

    “The police?” Quentin frowned. “Why would the police be looking for me?” A light went on in Quentin’s head. “They don’t think I have anything to do with Dameon’s death, do they?” He walked towards Angelique. “Angelique, he fell—right before my very eyes… I didn’t push him—in fact, I tried to stop him from falling!”

    Angelique got up from the chair and put a hand on Quentin’s arm. “Then come back to Collinwood with me and TELL the police that! There’s this detective—his name’s Larry Chase. Just tell him the truth so we can move on with our lives!”

    Act Two:

    Barnabas broke into Seaview after he watched Angelique and Julia leave the house. Finding the kitchen window unlocked, he squeezed his new tall, lanky frame through the small window and onto the kitchen counter. Oh, how Barnabas missed the ability to dematerialize in and out of buildings!

    Brushing himself off and closing the window, Barnabas looked around for clues as to what Julia was doing now. He had followed her to the Collinsport University Hospital earlier that day, so he guessed that she must be working there or had something to do with a patient there.

    Barnabas had spent the night before with a waitress he had met at the Blue Whale—a Miss Buffie Harrington. She seemed to know John somewhat, and it had been obvious to Barnabas she was attracted to the tall, blond young man. She had been visibly upset over something, and was more than willing to have someone spend the night with her. It had been so many, many years since Barnabas had been physically able to be intimate with someone as a mortal. So many, in fact, that Barnabas was hard-pressed to remember who or when it was.

    There were still moving boxes everywhere, for Julia had not had time to unpack. Barnabas rubbed his scraped ribs from squeezing through the window. Yet another thing as a mortal he had to get used to—getting hurt! But getting hurt was not the most disturbing thing that mortals had to contend with to Barnabas. Going to bathroom had been an unpleasant experience, and Barnabas hoped that he would get used to it if he was going to continue in this body…

    For Barnabas was contemplating never going back. He had a certain freedom now, as this young man, John Jaeger. The freedom from bloodlust, the freedom to move about and not be victim to the sunrise anymore. And, if he stayed away from her, he would not be the victim of Angelique anymore. He also was re-discovering the pleasures of the flesh… And now that he was mortal, Barnabas hoped to experience those pleasures over and over again!

    As he searched through Julia’s things—a rental agreement for Seaview here, a letter of employment from University Hospital there—something caught Barnabas’ eye, glittering in a sunbeam as it sat amongst the umbrellas in the bottom of the coat rack…

    Barnabas could scarcely believe it as he reached out and touched the silver wolf’s head—sitting in sight but out of sight at the same time. Anyone looking at it would just think it was just an ornate umbrella handle.

    “Julia…” Barnabas said aloud. He lifted the cane out of the umbrella stand and turned it over in his hands. “You kept it… You wanted to keep it…” He held it close to him and closed his eyes. Even though she and Willie had betrayed him, they only did it so that he would not be a danger to himself and those around him. He opened his eyes and ran his hand across the silver wolf’s head. “I can start all over now,” he said to himself. “With my new body, I can do everything the right way this time…”

    Barnabas started to put the wolf’s head cane back in the rack so that Julia could keep it, but he stopped himself. “No, Julia, Barnabas is dead… You have to forget about him…” Barnabas knew what he had to do now. He would have to destroy the Barnabas that now lay inside the coffin in the Old House. Destroy him so that he could be free, once and for all…

    Taking the cane with him, Barnabas looked around the room once more, making sure that he put everything back where he found it. Then, he went to the front door and opened it, making sure that it was locked behind as he walked out into the early evening air…

    Meanwhile, Horace Gladstone sat in the Blue Whale, drinking a beer in a mug in a corner table. He kept his eyes on the front door, waiting for a certain person to walk through the door. Make that TWO certain people—for Horace had heard gossip that John had left with a certain blonde waitress the night before. She was not here now, but Horace hoped that either her or John would walk in at any moment.

    For it was up to Horace to find John, as per Angelique’s orders. Horace grimaced as he swigged down his beer. He hated taking orders from Angelique, like some sort of errand boy, but she WAS the leader of the coven. And besides, Horace had secret romantic feelings towards the blonde witch. He knew that the beautiful sorceress would NEVER give him the time of day, but Horace hoped that by doing things for her—even if he hated them—would ingratiate him to her.

    Suddenly, the front door of the Blue Whale opened, and in who should stride was the very man he had been sent out to find all day? “John!” Horace cried out, but the tall young man did not seem to hear him…

    Act Three:

    “John, over here!” Horace called out again. John barely glanced over at Horace and strode over to the bar. Horace was sure that John could hear him. Horace got up and walked over to the bar. He tapped John on the shoulder, who jumped and looked at him with surprise. “John, didn’t you hear me? Where have you been?” Horace exclaimed.

    Barnabas turned red, flush with embarrassment. He had forgotten what his name was in this mortal body. He glanced at the balding, middle-aged man, unsure of what his name was, but recognizing him anyway. “Um, I um, was thinking about something…” Barnabas stammered, grasping for something to answer with. “And the music was distracting me, I thought you were talking to someone else,” he gestured around to the empty room.

    “Right,” Horace said. “What’s that? What are you doing with that cane?” Horace gestured down to the wolf’s head cane that Barnabas held against the floor.

    Barnabas glanced down with surprise. “Oh, um, I found this in an antique shop today… I thought I’d look stylish with an old silver walking cane!”

    “Okay,” Horace was concerned. “Angelique has been looking for you. She said you didn’t come back home after the séance last night.”

    Barnabas’ face lit up with recognition, realizing who the man was, now. “Oh, the séance!” He stopped, realizing that John would know very well who he was, and that Horace was from the séance last night. “Oh, I don’t want to deal with things like that anymore. I had to get out of that house. It’s got…” Barnabas searched for the right words that John Jaeger would say, “Bad vibes!”

    “Bad vibes…” Horace murmured. Between the walking stick, the general way that John was composing himself, and the strange accent he was now speaking in, it was as if John was acting like a different person. “Okay, John. I just realized I have to be somewhere right now… I’ll see you later.” Horace gave him a grin and hurried over to the table he was sitting at to grab his coat and leave.

    As Horace left he bar, Barnabas watched him, noting how nervous Horace was acting. Barnabas scowled, quite sure that Horace was going to report right back to Angelique and tell her about the wolf’s head cane…

    Meanwhile, Angelique and Quentin arrived back at Collinwood, Quentin following her in his own car. As they walked across the driveway together, Quentin holding his suitcase in one hand, his other hand on Angelique’s shoulder, Quentin stopped and stared at the mansion, taking a big breath and exhaling.

    Angelique glanced up at him, smiling reassuringly. “It’s going to be all right, Quentin. Dameon’s death was an accident, and once the police know the truth, we can leave Collinwood together, our consciences clear!”

    “Boy, do I hope you’re right, Angelique!” Quentin said. “I just need something to go right, for once!” They continued on and Quentin let themselves into the house.

    Roger stepped out of the Drawing Room upon hearing someone at the front door. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw Quentin and Angelique stepping through the foyer. “Quentin!” he exclaimed. Roger glanced nervously back towards the Drawing Room. “You’re back!”

    “Only for a little while, Roger,” Quentin answered sheepishly. “Once this business with Dameon’s death is cleared up, Angelique and I are going to get married and leave Collinwood forever!”

    Roger glanced at the Drawing Room again. A man’s voice could be heard speaking inside. “Maybe you’d better tell our guest that—he seems to have OTHER ideas!” Roger admonished.

    Detective Larry Chase hung up the phone and walked out into the Great Hall. Seeing Roger speaking to a tall young man and Angelique, he guessed at the man’s identity. “Quentin Collins, I presume?” he asked, looking at Quentin.

    Quentin nodded. “I heard that there’s been some question about Dameon’s death, Detective. I want you to know that I’m here to answer any and all questions you might have.”

    Larry smiled sarcastically. “Well, that’s good, Mr. Collins, but you’ll have to answer them at the police station… I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m going to have to arrest you for the murder of Dameon Edwards…” Quentin stood and stared at him, his mouth slightly open in shock…

    Cast:

    Roger Collins…
    LOUIS EDMONDS

    Quentin Collins…
    DAVID SELBY

    Angelique Rumson…
    LARA PARKER

    Horace Gladstone…
    JOHN HARKINS

    Larry Chase…
    KEN MCEWEN

    and

    Barnabas Collins/John Jaeger…
    CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK
     
  11. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1010: Opening Pandora's Box

    Fri. May 8, 1970

    After a seance at the Old House, Barnabas Collins is now inhabiting the body of John Jaeger... Not wanting to return to the Old House and face Angelique, Barnabas has been hiding out at the apartment of a local waitress, Buffie Harrington... But on this night, Barnabas fears that he has been discovered...

    “John, over here!” Horace called out again. John barely glanced over at Horace as he strode over to the bar. Horace was sure that John could hear him. Horace got up and walked over to the bar. He tapped John on the shoulder, who jumped and looked at him with surprise. “John, didn’t you hear me? Where have you been?” Horace exclaimed.

    Barnabas turned red, flush with embarrassment. “Um, I um, was thinking about something…” Barnabas stammered, grasping for something to answer with. “And the music was distracting me, I thought you were talking to someone else,” he gestured around to the empty room.

    “Right,” Horace said. “What’s that? What are you doing with that cane?” Horace gestured down to the wolf’s head cane that Barnabas held against the floor.

    Barnabas glanced down with surprise. “Oh, um, I found this in an antique shop today… I thought I’d look stylish with an old silver walking cane!”

    “Okay,” Horace was concerned. “Angelique has been looking for you. She said you didn’t come back home after the séance last night.”

    Barnabas’ face lit up with recognition, realizing who the man was, now. “Oh, the séance!” He stopped, realizing that John would know very well who he was, and that Horace was from the séance last night. “Oh, I don’t want to deal with things like that anymore. I had to get out of that house. It’s got…” Barnabas searched for the right words that John Jaeger would say, “Bad vibes!”

    “Bad vibes…” Horace murmured. Between the walking stick, the general way that John was composing himself, and the strange accent he was now speaking in, it was as if John was acting like a different person. “Okay, John. I just realized I have to be somewhere right now… I’ll see you later.” Horace gave him a grin and hurried over to the table he was sitting at to grab his coat and leave.

    As Horace left he bar, Barnabas watched him, noting how nervous Horace was acting. Barnabas scowled, quite sure that Horace was going to report right back to Angelique and tell her about the wolf’s head cane…

    Around the corner from the Blue Whale, Horace found a payphone and stepped inside. “What was Angelique’s new number again?” he asked himself out loud. He put a dime in the payphone and began to dial. He had spent all day looking for John for Angelique, and he was quite anxious to get home and make himself some dinner. “Come on, Angelique… Answer the damn phone!” Horace exclaimed. After letting the phone ring about twenty times, Horace hung up the phone in frustration. “Maybe she’s at Collinwood…” he muttered to himself. He pulled out his little black book from inside his coat pocket and looked for the number. While his head was down, a silver wolf’s head loomed above his head…

    Barnabas stood just outside the phone booth, the handle of his cane ready to strike a killing blow to the back of Horace’s head. Horace, suddenly feeling like someone was watching him, stopped from putting the dime back in the payphone again and gasped at the sight of Barnabas standing before him.

    “John!” he exclaimed. Barnabas lowered the cane nervously and set it down on the ground. “I didn’t here you come up behind me…” Horace looked down at the wolf’s head cane, wondering again where it really came from. If he didn’t know better, he swore that John was ready to strike him with it.

    “I was just wondering…” Barnabas stammered. “I-uh needed a lift back to Angelique’s place, and I was just wondering if you would take me…”

    “You want to go back to Angelique’s?” Horace asked incredulously. He stared at him for a moment.

    “Yes…” Barnabas tried to smile pleasantly. “I’m sure she misses me… I didn’t come home last night, and it’s a long walk…”

    “All right, I can take you…” Horace answered. It was just as well if he delivered John back to Angelique in person, he thought to himself. “My car’s just down the street…” He glanced back down at the wolf’s head cane, and made sure that he didn’t stand in front of John, just in case…

    Act One:

    Buffie stood outside the office of Detective Larry Chase, and took a deep breath. Now that Dameon was dead, it was all up to her. Dameon had instructed her what to do if something happened to him, but she wasn’t sure if she could go through with it. “This is it, old girl…” she murmured to herself. “It’s either this or stay a waitress for the rest of your life…” She grimaced at the thought of being sixty or seventy years old, with caked-on makeup and a beehive hairdo, and still working dead-end jobs in greasy-spoon diners and bars from here to Worcester…

    She gathered up her courage and rapped on the frosted glass of the door. “Come in…” a man’s voice called out. She opened the door and faced who she presumed to be Detective Chase. “Can I help you?” the man at the desk asked. She noticed that his eyes traveled down her body, and she hoped that he would be an easy conquest.

    She shut the door behind her and stepped forward. She took another breath and moistened her lips, staring at the middle-aged man. “Mr. Chase? I’m Buffie… Buffie Harrington. I need to talk to you about someone—someone who shouldn’t be here!”

    Larry leaned forward. “Oh? Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk.

    “Thank you,” she smiled sadly. She sat in the chair and put her pocketbook on her lap. "You see—you’ve arrested the wrong man! My boyfriend didn’t kill Dameon, I’m sure of it!”

    Larry looked surprised. “Your boyfriend… You mean Quentin Collins, don’t you?” How many girlfriends does this Quentin Collins have? Larry thought to himself. He thought of Angelique Rumson, who had followed them to the police station and had stayed until Quentin’s lawyer took her out after Larry made her leave.

    Buffie nodded slowly. “Yes, I mean Quentin Collins… We’ve been seeing each other for almost a month. I’m sure not many people know about us, yet, but we’ve fallen in love over the past few weeks.”

    “Really?” Larry asked, intrigued. He wondered to himself if Angelique Rumson knew about Buffie. “And what, exactly, makes you think that Quentin didn’t kill Dameon?”

    At that moment, Buffie made herself cry a little. It wasn’t hard to do—after all, she was in mourning for Dameon—and as she began to sob Larry reached over for his box of green Kleenex and handed it to her. “Thank you,” she sniffled, dabbing the corners of her eyes so that her thick eyeliner would not run too much. “Well, Mister Chase—“

    “You can call me Larry,” he insisted. “Take your time, Miss Harrington… Do you need a cup of water, or something?”

    Buffie shook her head. “No thank you, Larry… I’m a little embarrassed to tell you how I know… What time did Dameon die that day?”

    “Between four-thirty and five p.m., the coroner decided,” Larry answered, templing his fingers, wondering just where this was headed.

    “Well…” Buffie looked down and pursed her lips. “You see Mister… LARRY, Quentin couldn’t have killed Dameon Edwards… You see, he was with me—alone—in my apartment after the funeral. He was there from at least three p.m., and all the rest of the evening.” She glanced up at Larry and batted her eyelashes.

    Larry leaned back in his chairs and stared at her a moment. “I see… Well, Miss Harrington—Buffie,” he said, giving the pretty blonde a smile back. “You see, Buffie, Quentin insisted that he and Dameon were alone at Collinwood, and that Quentin accidentally pushed Dameon to his death…” Larry leaned forward again. “So one of you isn’t telling me the truth. Why would Quentin say he was at Collinwood if he was with you? And why take responsibility for Dameon’s death?”

    “He was trying to protect me,” Buffie answered. “He didn’t want Angelique Rumson to know about us yet, so he couldn’t very well say he was at my apartment after the funeral, could he?” Buffie hoped that that sounded convincing.

    Larry narrowed his eyes, thinking. He could understand Quentin lying, IF he was having a relationship with two women at the same time. But what about the button from Quentin’s coat? Was it all just a big coincidence? “Curiouser and curiouser,” Larry murmured…

    Act Two:

    As Horace Gladstone drove Barnabas back to the Old House, Barnabas thought about what he was going to do. For his plan to work, Angelique could not be home yet. If she was home, he would have to convince her that nothing was amiss. He would have to save his plan for later. He glanced over at Horace as he drove. This was it, his chance to live a normal life and be free of his curse forever—and Angelique might never know! Barnabas glanced down at his wolf’s head cane. Why had he been so stupid as to steal it back from Julia? If Angelique was home and saw it, she would be suspicious… Barnabas tried to shake that thought out of his mind. Things had to work out the way he wanted for once, they just had to! Why would he be given this new body if it wasn’t meant to be!

    When they arrived at the Old House, Barnabas was once again surprised to see an electrical lamp burning outside on the front yard. He was a little wistful that so much had been changed, but maybe it was for the best. He had to accept now that life would never be the same again. The Old House and all its memories were no longer his. Along with his new body, he had to live a brand new life. One away from Angelique, the Old House, and that disgusting form he had become that was lying trapped inside the Secret Room.

    “Are you all right, John?” Horace asked glancing down at the younger man with a strange mixture of nervousness and concern. Horace was more convinced than ever that something had happened to John at the séance the night before.

    “What?” Barnabas was still startled to be called by that new name. “Oh, yes, I’m just a little worried about facing Angelique… She’s going to be so ‘ticked’ off when she sees me!” Barnabas tried to give a little lighthearted chuckle, but it felt unnatural to him.

    Horace smiled, “Right, so we’d best get inside!” One of the famous Collinsport rainstorms had started splattering on the car windshield, and Barnabas realized for the first time since inhabiting this new mortal body that he had not experienced the rain yet.

    Horace hurried to the front door of the Old House, a single electric lamp in the front window was on—it certainly did not look like anyone else was home yet. He glanced back at the younger man. “John! What are you doing? You’re going to catch your death!”

    Barnabas looked up at the rain, the drops falling on his face made him shiver all over. When he was a vampire, he was easily able to avoid them, and the cold and wet never bothered him. He had forgotten how exhilarating it was to be uncomfortably cold and wet. He laughed naturally this time, letting the rain hit his tongue.

    “John, come on!” Horace shouted. Barnabas hurried to join him under the porch and fished through his poncho for the housekey. Letting them inside, Barnabas looked out at the front lawn, as a lightning flash illuminated the front yard. He shut the door behind them.

    Barnabas turned around and looked at the new, foreign Old House in the dim light. Horace found the light switch in the foyer and illuminated them from above. Barnabas looked up, surprised yet again that there was electric light in his ancestral home.

    Horace looked concernedly at John. Then looked around the foyer. He called up the stairs. “Angelique! Angelique, are you home?” No answer.

    Barnabas walked over to the mirror again and marveled over his new appearance. Another thing that he had thought he would never miss—seeing himself in the mirror! Barnabas touched his face and stared at his mass of blond, curly hair that hung down with the weight of the raindrops that dripped down from his locks.

    Horace looked over at him and shook his head. He hung up his own wet coat and said, “Well, it doesn’t look like she’s home, yet. Why don’t we build a fire in the fireplace and get warmed up before I head back home. I’d like to see Angelique before I leave.”

    Barnabas continued to stare at the tall young man looking back at him from the mirror world. “What? Oh… yeah…” He took off his poncho and hung it up on the coat rack, then looked down at the wolf’s head cane, realizing again what he had to do. This was the time to do it, while Angelique was still gone.

    Walking into the drawing room, he saw Horace bending over the firewood next to the fireplace, placing a few logs into it. Gathering up all of his strength, Barnabas lifted up his cane and struck down on Horace with all his might…

    Act Three:

    “Augh!” Horace screamed raspily. He lay on the floor in front of the fireplace and held up his hands in front of him to halfheartedly protect himself from another blow. He grabbed the back of his head in pain and stared in disbelief at the tall young man looming above him, brandishing the silver cane. The light behind him illuminated his blond curls like some sort of beautiful angel of death. “John! What are you doing?” Horace brought his hand down from the back of his head and looked at his palm. It was covered with blood.

    Barnabas smiled bitterly and shook his head. “I’m not John, Horace… You made a big mistake bringing me back here.” Barnabas brought the cane down again and again, beating Horace all over his body. Horace screamed with pain and fear. Barnabas stopped and breathed heavily. It was exhilarating—to be mortal and to have to kill like a mortal. He almost felt sorry for the man who lay on the floor, bloody and groaning with pain. But Barnabas thought of the reward if this worked. He decided he might as well tell Horace who he was before he finished him off for good.

    Barnabas stooped down and kneeled beside Horace. Horace cringed in fear, the blood oozing from his head stinging his eyes as he looked at who he still thought was John. “I’m Barnabas Collins,” he told the other man matter-of-factly. “I’ve been locked up in my coffin for a month now, and Angelique has known about it this whole time!”

    “Coffin?” Horace gasped, feeling dizzy from the pain. “What coffin?”

    “I’m a vampire, Horace, at least I was, until I took over this body during the séance.” Barnabas glanced at the bookcase that fronted the Secret Room. “Would you like to see it, Horace? One last time before you go? The coffin of Barnabas Collins?”

    “No-o!” Horace gasped, wanting nothing more than to get away from this insane young man who was going to kill him. “No, please! I’ll do anything! Don’t do this John!”

    “I told you, I’m Barnabas Collins!” Barnabas snapped. He got up and walked to the bookcase, moving the lever to open the Secret Room. The bookcase moved with a terrific groan across the new floor, scraping it. He went back to Horace and stooped beside him, helping him sit up.

    Horace tried to struggle as Barnabas helped him up, but he was too weak and dizzy. He wiped at the blood in his eyes and felt Barnabas’ strong arms hold him up against him as they walked behind the bookcase. “No-no!” Horace gasped as he saw what waited for them inside the dark, ancient room.

    Barnabas let Horace slide down to the stone floor of the Secret Room. He looked down at the coffin that still housed his old body and shuddered to himself. THIS is where he had been trapped for the past month. This was his prison. He reached out to tentatively touch the chains that wrapped around it.

    He turned back to Horace. “See this coffin, Mr. Gladstone? This is where I was trapped by Dr. Julia Hoffman, and Mr. Willie Loomis—here!” He turned back to the coffin. “Night after night I lay in this small box, unable to move, unable to get out and see the moon and stars! Night after night I crave blood, but this cross kept me in!” Barnabas swiped the crucifix off of the coffin and let it hit the wall with a clatter.

    While Barnabas was talking, Horace tried to crawl away. He reached the opening to the drawing room, but Barnabas banged his wolf’s head cane on the floor next to him. “No, Mr. Gladstone! I need you here, in this room! When Pandora’s Box is opened, you will be it’s first victim!” Barnabas lifted up the cane again to deliver one final, fatal blow…

    After it was over, Barnabas left Horace’s body in the Secret Room. Closing the bookcase behind him, Barnabas made sure to check for any blood on the floor that Horace might have left while he was still bleeding out onto the drawing room floor. Luckily for Barnabas, it was all on the stone floor in front of the fireplace, and was easily cleaned off.

    Barnabas noticed that it was getting late, and Angelique still wasn’t home. He wondered if he would even need to come up with an excuse for where he had been all day. But, there was still the matter of Horace’s car. Barnabas put his poncho back on and took Horace’s coat with him, deciding to drive Horace’s car a mile away down the road and leaving it there. Barnabas glanced back at Angelique’s portrait, smiling at him from across the room. He smiled and shook his head. “You lose, Angelique! I’m ending all of it—and there’s nothing you can do about it—nothing!” He turned out the foyer light and opened the front door, the lightning outside silhouetting him as he stood in the doorway…

    Cast:

    Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS

    Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS

    Larry Chase… KEN MCEWEN

    and

    Barnabas Collins/John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK
     
  12. Victor Winters

    Victor Winters Soap Chat Member

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    Episode 1011: The Vampire Strikes Back

    Mon. May 11, 1970

    Many changes have occurred in the month since Carolyn Hawkes and her mother, Elizabeth Stoddard, went on their European holiday… Barnabas Collins has managed to escape his entombment by switching places with the new caretaker at the Old House, John Jaeger… But, Carolyn does not know that John, or Barnabas, looks exactly like her late husband, Jeb Hawkes…

    Willie Loomis had been hired by Roger Collins as a temporary replacement for Caretaker of the Great Estate, until Roger could find a permanent replacement for Chris Jennings. Willie did not particularly enjoy working so close to the Old House, but the pay was good, and Willie had insisted to his Roxanne that they not marry until Willie had saved up enough money to start them on their lives together. To his credit, Roger also had not wanted to hire Willie, but it seemed that few people in the village wanted to work at Collinwood.

    Willie had just started to settle in at the Caretaker’s Cottage, Chris’s belongings still in the boxes that were scattered about the rooms by Mrs. Johnson, when the phone rang. Thinking it was the main house, Willie answered the phone. “Carolyn!” he exclaimed, when he heard the voice on the other end.

    “Willie,” Carolyn said, from inside a phone booth at the local trainstation. “Uncle Roger told me to call you when Mother and I arrived… Well, we’re at the Boston Trainstation. We’ll be in Collinsport in a couple of hours. Can you be there to pick us up? I know it’s early in the morning, but Mother and I took the red-eye from London, and we’re both exhausted.”

    “Sure thing, Carolyn,” Willie agreed. “I hope you guys had a good time…” Willie genuinely hoped so, as he knew how devastated Carolyn had been over the loss of her husband. He had sort of felt the same way about Barnabas, even though Barnabas could still be recovered...

    Recovered he was, for at the Old House, Barnabas awoke with a start on the couch in the drawing room. He looked around the drawing room with surprise—both at it’s new appearance, and also at the fact that he was not awakening inside his coffin. “Where is Angelique?” he wondered aloud, not knowing that Angelique had spent the night at the police station, then the Collinsport Inn, to be near Quentin.

    Realizing that she was not home for him to offer any explanations about his disappearance the night before, Barnabas gathered up his courage to do what he had intended to do since the night before—end his curse once and for all. Barnabas gathered the tools he had procured the night before after driving Horace Gladstone’s car a mile down the road and returning back to the Old House on foot.

    Opening up the Secret Room, he stepped over the Gladstone’s body and undid the chains with the bolt-cutters he had found in the gardener’s shed behind the house. “I can do this…” he said to himself, before lifting up the coffin lid. He gasped in shock when he looked down at his old body lying in the coffin…

    Act One:

    John opened his eyes and blinked in the sudden influx of light as his prison ceiling was removed from above him. To his surprise, his own face stared down at him, seemingly shocked to see him. Of course, he was shocked, he thought. Who wouldn’t be to see themselves looking at them?

    As John sat up inside the strange, box-like prison he had been in for over twenty-four hours, his double quickly kneeled down to the floor and picked something up. “Who are you?” John demanded. “What is this place?”

    John’s double did not answer, and instead, thrust the object in his hands in John’s face. John jerked back from the sudden movement and stared at it in surprise. It was a large crucifix. John narrowed his eyes. “A cross? What are you trying to do with that?” He pushed the hands holding the crucifix up in his face away and started to get out of the coffin.

    “I don’t understand!” John’s double gasped. “Why doesn’t it do anything?” He stared at the crucifix for a moment and threw it to the floor.

    “Horace!” John gasped in shock at the body lying on the cold stone floor. He turned to his double. “What did you do to him? Who are you?”

    John’s double stared at him, his eyes wide with fear. “John Jaeger,” the other John stammered. “I’m John Jaeger!” He lifted up a sharpened stake and lunged towards John with it, but John easily grasped his double’s hands and stopped him.

    “Augh!” the other John screamed, as John squeezed his hands to make him let go of the stake. To John’s surprise, he could hear the sickening crack of the other man’s hands. John let go, and the other John let the stake drop to the floor as he held his hands to his chest in pain.

    John looked down at his own hands, surprised not just at his new seemingly superhuman strength, but at how different his hands looked. "What on Earth?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. He did not recognize the onyx ring, and his hands looked older, puffier—like they belonged to a different man. He turned his hands over and stared at them, as the other John quickly ran away.

    John watched him leave the small room, and as he started after his double, he stopped and looked back at his prison, realizing that it was a secret room off of the drawing room. “What is going on here?” he asked out loud…

    Act Two:

    After picking up Elizabeth and Carolyn and driving them back to Collinwood, Carolyn sent Willie on an errand to the pharmacy in town to pick up a few items. Afterwards, Willie decided to stop at the Blue Whale for some lunch.

    Willie noticed that there was a new, pretty blonde waitress behind the counter—but of course, she was not prettier than his Roxanne. “What’ll it be, stranger?” she asked, smiling. Willie had gone to the bar to order his food before sitting down. He noticed that while her mouth was certainly smiling, her eyes looked sad. He noticed she had dark circles under her eyes, as if she had not been sleeping well.

    “I’ll just have the fish and chips,” he answered. “And a beer… Maybe some of that Jaeger’s Brau…” he said.

    “Of course,” Buffie nodded. She notified the cook of Willie’s order and brought his beer to the table he was sitting at. “I’ve not seen you around here before… New in town?” she asked.

    “Oh, no…” Willie grinned. “I’ve lived here off and on for the past three years. I’ve just been in Winter Harbor for the past month.”

    “Oh, I see,” Buffie answered. She looked over at the entrance and saw a man enter the bar. “Excuse me for a moment.”

    Detective Larry Chase gave her a little wave and strode over to her. Buffie looked expectantly at him. Well, Miss Harrington, I’ve got good news for you.”

    “Is it about Quentin?” she asked. Willie’s ears perked up at the mention of Quentin’s name. There couldn’t be too many men named Quentin in a town as small as Collinsport.

    “Yes,” Larry nodded. “I think you’ll be pleased to know that he’s been released from jail. Mr. Roger Collins just picked him up.”

    Buffie breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God! So, you believed me after all!”

    Larry shook his head. “It’s not up to me to believe you or not,” Larry told her, “That’s up to a jury to decide. Mr. Collins paid his bail, and now Quentin Collins has to wait for his trial…”

    “His trial!” Buffie exclaimed. “Oh no…”

    Willie turned away and picked up his beer to take a gulp. So much had happened since he had left for Winter Harbor to be with Roxanne… It seemed like Carolyn Hawkes was not the only member of the Collins family to face tragedy lately…

    While Mrs. Johnson helped unpack her things, Carolyn took a long hot bath before going to bed. She had not been feeling well lately—the entire train ride up from Boston she had suffered from motion sickness—so she had sent Willie to the local pharmacy to get her some anti-nausea medicine.

    With much relief, she fell into her own bed to sleep, for once. At first, she welcomed the darkness of sleep. But now that she was home again, memories invaded her swirling thoughts—and unlike in Europe, where Paris, Rome, Berlin and London had kept her from thinking of him too much—memories of Jeb filled her mind once again…

    There was nothing but white. A swirling fog dance all about her, blowing her nightgown softly about her legs as she walked through the mist. Up ahead, a man stood and waited for her…

    Carolyn walked, but she did not walk… Instead, it seemed as if she was floating towards him. The man was tall, and blond. In his hands he held a glowing box. The box was gold and reflective and the closer she got to him, she felt a warm pleasantness emanate from the golden box…

    As she floated near him, the fog swirled away from the man, and it was Jeb’s face whom she saw smiling sweetly at her. “Carolyn…” he said.

    “Jeb…” she floated towards him, and put her arms around him. He held the glowing box in one arm, and hugged Carolyn to his chest with the other. “I missed you so much…”

    Jeb smiled down at her. “I missed you too. I’ve been watching over you this whole time… I’ve wanted so much to touch you, to hold you.”

    “I’ve wanted that too,” Carolyn smiled. She kissed his cheek and felt warm and tingly all over her body.

    Jeb looked down at the box he was holding in his other arm. “I’ve got something for you—a gift. Take it, Carolyn… This is the only gift I can give you, now…”

    Carolyn looked down at the glowing, golden box and let go of Jeb. She took the box in her hands and her entire body was filled with the warmest, most pleasant sensation she had ever felt in her entire life. “What is it?” she breathed, closing her eyes, as the warmness washed over her entire body…

    Act Three:

    After the warmness subsided, Carolyn felt peaceful, a sense of tranquility she had not felt in so long. “Jeb, what’s in the box?”

    Jeb smiled at her again, as the mist started to cover his face and body. “You’ll find out, soon enough…”

    Carolyn watched as Jeb disappeared in the fog. “Jeb!” she cried out. She hugged the golden box close to her, and it too, disappeared. But, instead of as if in a fog, it seemed to disappear into her…

    Carolyn opened her eyes. She was in her own bed. “Jeb!” she cried out, sitting straight up. It had seemed so real. She had really felt like she was talking to Jeb and holding the golden box in her arms. Carolyn hugged herself and leaned back against her pillow…

    Meanwhile, a man who had once looked very much like Jeb, but now looked like the dark-haired man in the portrait in the Great Hall, walked through the woods between the Old House and Collinwood. “What is happening to me?” he asked out loud.

    John looked up at the day sky, thinking that the sun felt unusually hot in the middle of May. He was glad for the cover of the trees, but he still felt hot in his double-breasted suit. Where had it come from? Why was he wearing it. He tugged at the tie and loosened it. He was also extremely hungry, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Of course, he had just been in a large box for over twenty-four hours.

    John wondered where his double had gone. And why had the man murdered Horace? John shook his head in confusion. The sun felt extremely hot, and he was becoming weaker by the moment.

    “Barnabas!” a man’s voice called out to him. John looked up in confusion at the shorter, sandy-haired man who stood before him, the other man’s eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets in shock.

    John shook his head in confusion. “Barnabas? Who’s Barnabas?” But, in his confusion, he did begin to sense something—a scent of some sort that he had not noticed before.

    “Barnabas,” the other man stammered. “Barnabas—what are you doing here?” The man looked around anxiously. “What are you doing outdoors… during the day?”

    “During the day?” John was really confused now. Why was this man calling him Barnabas? Did John look like this Barnabas person, now? John realized that he had hurried out of the Old House without looking at himself in the mirror.

    “Barnabas, I think we better get you back to the Old House, right now!” the shorter man insisted. He grabbed John by the arm and tugged him back down the path home. John could smell the scent even more strongly now, and for the first time he realized it was coming from the man. He also realized he could hear the man’s pulse flowing through his veins. John shook his head to clear his mind. “Wait a second, do I know you?” he demanded.

    The other man stared at him. “Barnabas, what’s wrong? You know me, it Willie! Willie Loomis!”

    “I’m not Barnabas!” John insisted. He felt strange. His teeth felt funny, painful, as if they were bursting through his gums.

    Willie eyes opened wide and he gasped in shock. “No, Barnabas! Not now—not again!” He started to run, but John was too quick for him. He grabbed Willie with his new, super-fast reflexes and pulled him into his tight embrace—like a lion latching onto an antelope…

    Cast:

    John Jaeger… JONATHAN FRID

    Carolyn Hawkes… NANCY BARRETT

    Willie Loomis… JOHN KARLEN

    Barnabas Collins/Jeb Hawkes… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK

    Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS

    Larry Chase… KEN MCEWEN
     

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