American Gothic Story

My first visit to Maison Pines, Mason Blanche's magnificent estate, was for his twentieth annual Christmas party, in 1995. In the years since, as I've attended, I've learned how well known the party is. Many consider it the biggest and best in The South. The wealthiest, most aristocratic and attractive people in Mississippi, as well as from Alabama, Arkansas, and Louisiana, migrate every year to Bairot County, Mississippi for this party. Not only is it a way to improve your perceived status within this circle of debutantes and gentlemen, it is also a rare opportunity to see the most beautiful home in the area.

As I turned my car off the main road into the driveway, I was impressed to see it was laid with bricks, and lined by pine trees, some of which were over 300 years old. After nearly half a mile of this serene view, the driveway made a sharp turn to the left, and all at once, Maison Pines came into view. My first glimpse was breathtaking. The main house, painted white with shutters the green of the pines for which it was named, loomed ahead. For all of its beauty, it seemed slightly eerie, perhaps because it had witnessed more than any human could in the span of mortal life.

I was the first to arrive, and chose to park on the gravel directly across the driveway from the front of the house. I arrived early so that I would have the opportunity to meet Mason properly, and to be able to admire the legendary Maison Pines. I made my way up the marble steps to the stretching front porch, which was supported by white fluted columns and wrapped around the entire structure, with an exact replica overhead around the second floor. Floor to ceiling windows served as walls for the front rooms.

As I approached the front door, I expected a maid or butler to open it, such was the atmosphere. When it was opened, I was surprised to see Mason Blanche, in his trademark blue and white seersucker suit. He seemed to be about six feet tall and wore his black hair swept back. The white at his temples was astonishingly attractive.

As he gave me a tour of the house, the guests began arriving, and the introductions became so frequent as to confuse the remnants of my memories of the rest of that night.

The Blanche Christmas party, though, is not a stuffy get-together of up-turned noses. I had the time of my life. The food was delectable, the guests always observed old-fashioned Southern gentiality, and the entertainment was top-notch! In times of tacky and unsophisticated fads, Mason Blanche entertained his guests with performers of the best taste and quality. Blues singers, pianists, and Jazz bands were lined up for the opportunity.

There was an element to his parties that disturbed me, though. On any occasion that I glanced up into the third floor from the second floor balcony that overlooked the entertainers, I noticed that all lights were out and all doors were closed. It seemed that if any of his guests wandered up that spiral staircase, whether looking for a toilet or just exploring, he would either be standing at the top or beckoning from below with an important conversation to begin with the brave adventurer, which would invariably end in the library on the first floor. It seemed, however, that I was the only one who noticed this, much less was disturbed by it. A visit to Maison Pines was considered by anyone to be a wonderful night of fun.

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Ethel and Jason Blanche were always very proud of their son, Mason. As a child, he was an A-student, a black belt at the age of eight, and volunteered with his class at a local nursing home in the first and second grades. Ethel and Jason were well-known at Bairot Baptist Church, and long-time members of the Southern Mississippi Country Club. You can imagine the turmoil and uproar when, the day after an especially stormy Christmas, 1966, Mason reported both Ethel and Jason, along with their car, missing.

Three days later, Bayou Le Breaux, Louisiana Police Department notified Bairot investigators that Mr. And Mrs. Blanche's car had been found on one of their shores. The vehicle identification numbers matched. However, the Louisiana officers had not recovered any bodies, but stated that it was not an uncommon occurrence, due to the many animals that are known to prowl the Mississippi River area. The case file at Bairot County Police Department states that their investigation concluded that the Blanches veered on the road during the storm, and into the river.

Because the Blanches had no other known relatives, Mason was left with Maison Pines, an unsurmisable amount of money, and hired help parents' entire estate staff to car for him. You may be wondering why he didn't go to an orphanage, but this was not an ordinary child, and everyone knew it. As soon as he graduated high school, he began to soar. He submerged himself in the world of computers before anyone thought they would one day run our lives, and compounded his worth twenty times. He became a great man.

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I had considered not attending his most recent Christmas party, because I could not stop wondering what he was hiding on his third floor, but decided to go because, after all, who could refuse an invitation to the Blanche Christmas party?

I recall it vividly: he had hired the best Jazz band so far, and I was on the second floor balcony, watching them from my favorite vantage point, when I heard muffled, but loud, screaming. I could tell it came from upstairs, so hastily I ran up.

I thought many people would be rushing behind me, and was surprised to find myself alone in the third floor corridor. I guess no one heard it, or those who did brushed it of as their imagination.

I found the door that stood between me and the source of the sound, and busted through. There, bound to two beds and gagged, were Ethel and Jason Blanche, though much older than any picture I'd ever seen. Jason was obviously dead. From what I could see, it appeared he had drowned in his vomit. Ethel was screaming deliriously through her gag.

I quickly turned to go for help, and ran into Mason Blanche. I panicked, and turned again, but before I gained any ground I felt a blow to the back of my head and neck.

When I awoke, I was on the ground outside, people were surrounding me, and I gathered from what they were saying that some thought I had fallen, some thought I had jumped, out of the third story window. I could barely move, and felt every one of the 26 broken bones in my body.

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Here at Bairot Mental Health Clinic, they tell me every day that Ethel and Jason were just a dream I had after I passed out form the impact. Anyone there who heard screaming said that it was probably me. They say the Police Department searched the third floor and found nothing out of the ordinary, but I know Mason's got them in his pocket. My head may be a little messed up after that fall, but I know what I saw. I may not be able to speak very well anymore, but I can write as fluently as I ever could. Hopefully someone will read this and try to figure out what is going on at Maison Pines, and I hope it's soon. I don't know how long a woman Ethel's age could last like that.