The Haunted Mansion
Enclosed by tall, spear-ended wrought iron gates accented with overflowing stone vases perched atop neatly rising brick columns, the rolling lawns of this antebellum Mansion immediately recall the romantic Old South: one nearly expects some love struck southern belle to rush down the flat, wide steps to the veranda and past you, into the night.
But she does not come. Nobody does.
The tall, Greek-revival white columns that face out
on the waterfront do not hide the fact that the place seems to have the
slightest aura of menace about it. While the lawn and the hedges have been
neatly trimmed away, the trees themselves are rising to meet it’s roof on
all sides, to block it out of the world.
From an upper balcony, the black draperies and wreath of some long ago funeral service flap gently in the breeze.
Around the corner of the courtyard and out of view, a white hearse is waiting. Pulled by a horse, no doubt, although the lead and harness that must have once decorated this steed now appear to hover in midair where they should be pulled tight about the animal! There is no occupant, just a sign that announces:
RESERVATIONS ACCEPTED!
Ghost Relations Department
Disneyland
(Please Do Not Apply In Person!)
The courtyard winds around past the front doors and
leads us on, ever seeming to open upon itself, some new and secret place
revealed with every bend of the path. Ahead, in the shade of a gigantic
tree, a number of white statuettes peek up from the earth. They are animal
graves, well tended to, lit by a single flickering lamp which hangs from
a nearby branch.
Freddie the Bat
1847
(upside-down) We'll Miss You
Old Flybait
He Croaked
August 9, 1869
Rosie
She was a poor little pig
but she bought the farm
1849
Buddy
our friend
until the end
Beloved Lilac
Long on Curiosity...
Short on Common Scents
1847
Fifi
[A cross of dog bones with a poodle head, X’s for eyes]
[A cat surrounded by a few small bird grave markers]
In Memory of My Rat
Whom I Loved
Now He Resides
In the Realms Up Above
Here lies
Long Legged Jeb
Got tangled up
in his very own web
October 10
1867
[a fish's grave]
Here lies my snake
whose fatal mistake
was frightening the gardener
who carried a rake
July 11
1864
[a bird or eagle]
Moving past a brick column, we now encounter a courtyard
seemingly carved from the side of a hill, rising slowly to meet the wrought-iron
veranda of the house itself. To the left, the courtyard drops away to a
narrow walk far below, which winds it’s way past a number of tombs set into
the side of the hill:
