By Ben Greenman
from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled
I question whether any home can show so intimate a relation between its outward appearance and the principles expounded from its hearth and heart, as that which exists between Moorblood Manse and Baron von Moorblood. No haunted house is the work of one man alone, especially not one whose name is so comically terrifying. But it is equally true that no haunted house has been more potent than Moorblood Manse during the hundred years that it has been the domicile of its sole inhabitant. The move toward establishing the home as a place of murder was almost instant, as Baron von Moorblood took a woman’s life during his first week in residence in 1919 — to say he lived there would be a misnomer, as Moorblood is undead and has been since he was turned vampire by the famed Count Ivankov in 1877 — and has taken thousands of lives since, including a record 41 in 1973, when young locals seemed to flock to the house with an idea that a night there would furnish some sort of perverse thrill. It is worth noting that Baron von Moorblood is not the birth name of the master of Moorblood Manse. He was born Eugene Anderson in Columbus, Ohio, in 1846, and spent the first thirty years of his life as a stage actor and part-time firearms designer. It was not until he was left in a state of sanguinary deficit by the aforementioned Count Ivankov that he adopted his new moniker, despite dithyrambic objection from Laura, his wife at the time, who called the choice (among other things) “loony,” “foolish,” “thick-witted,” “featherheaded,” “cuckoo,” “loco,” and “numb as a hake.”
I question whether any home can show so intimate a relation between its outward appearance and the principles expounded from its hearth and heart, as that which exists between Moorblood Manse and Baron von Moorblood. No haunted house is the work of one man alone, especially not one whose name is so comically terrifying. But it is equally true that no haunted house has been more potent than Moorblood Manse during the hundred years that it has been the domicile of its sole inhabitant. The move toward establishing the home as a place of murder was almost instant, as Baron von Moorblood took a woman’s life during his first week in residence in 1919 — to say he lived there would be a misnomer, as Moorblood is undead and has been since he was turned vampire by the famed Count Ivankov in 1877 — and has taken thousands of lives since, including a record 41 in 1973, when young locals seemed to flock to the house with an idea that a night there would furnish some sort of perverse thrill. It is worth noting that Baron von Moorblood is not the birth name of the master of Moorblood Manse. He was born Eugene Anderson in Columbus, Ohio, in 1846, and spent the first thirty years of his life as a stage actor and part-time firearms designer. It was not until he was left in a state of sanguinary deficit by the aforementioned Count Ivankov that he adopted his new moniker, despite dithyrambic objection from Laura, his wife at the time, who called the choice (among other things) “loony,” “foolish,” “thick-witted,” “featherheaded,” “cuckoo,” “loco,” and “numb as a hake.”
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