A Note from Jake Jaxson:
As many of you know, I grew up in New Orleans -- a hot, decadent, and haunted place -- where so much pain and pleasure has collided over the centuries. While attending college, I rented my first apartment in the Lower Garden District. At the time, the massive stately homes and mansions had either been carved up into apartments or were falling down around themselves. If you've ever read Interview with the Vampire, this is the neighborhood in New Orleans where Lestat retreats to hide, rest, and regain his strength.
When I first moved into my apartment, I was taken in by the enormous 20 foot floor-to-ceiling windows, the upstairs gallery, and the wrap around balcony which still held its original panes of blown glass. These lush, antiquated features of the house were the pride and joy of the land lady -- a sweet woman who seemed to be as old as the property itself.
"Come here and look," she said to me, pointing to one of the window panes. The air bubbles in the glass were still visible. "You see the names etched in the glass? That's the signature of the mistress of the house, and below that are her children."
I took a closer look, and sure enough, the name Mary Brown was scribbled into the glass in cursive, while Edwin and Edwinea were right below it in larger, child-like cursive. I could even feel the indentation when I touched the glass, a heavy hand had spelled out the children's names.
"Both taken by the yellow fever," my land lady said, as if it had happened yesterday. Then she turned to me with a glint in her eye and a devilish grin across her face.
"She haunts this house, you know. You can hear her crying," she said. "But don't worry about Mrs. Brown. She's harmless, although her crying may wake you up at night." Oh great, I thought, just as I'm moving in she tells me this!
I lived in that apartment for two years, and as curious as I was, I was never haunted by Mary. From time to time, I would wake up suddenly, from a deep sleep...was it Mary? Other times, I would feel a cold chill or icy breeze come over me on a hot, humid night and wonder if it was a sign that an apparition would soon appear! But it never did. As much as I wanted to see Mary, she never appeared.
It was this yearning that was the inspiration for the final part of The Haunting series, A Kiss Before Goodnight
. Some hauntings do not manifest themselves through paranormal experiences like in Part I
, or through the transference of residual energy like in Part II
, but rather, we are haunted by the stories still told and spoken aloud today, passed down over time about people, their pain, their pleasure, wrongs committed, lives left unresolved, and lost loves waiting to be reunited.
I hope you enjoy the final film in this series. It's been a pleasure (and challenge) making it. Also, I could not have done this with out the hard work, resilience, and dedication of my first love, R.J. Sebastian. He is the rock and back bone of all of my work and life!
PS: The performers in these films went above and beyond with their support, hard work, and creative energy, and deserve a lot of credit. Please let them know you have enjoyed their efforts! In a business filled with dismissive comments and negativity, hearing something nice from just one fan is a joy to all those involved and very much appreciated: @ChagallArnaud
Christian Wilde (Naked Sword exclusive model)
plays Klaus Heist, a highly successful yet greatly disturbed artist who is severly lacking creative inspiration. After doing some research online, Klaus learns of an isolated manor for sale in the woods rumored to be one of the most haunted properties in New York. On impulse, he purchases the house with the hope of encountering the supernatural and drives there the following day.
A spritely young real estate agent, played by Max Ryder, can't believe he's sold his first listing in just a day -- especially since it's notoriously known for being haunted -- and he greets Klaus enthusiastically upon arrival. But Klaus has other plans. Without warning, he slams the chipper little punk against the wall and fucks him hard... in every single room of the house. Because if that doesn't provoke the spirits to reveal themselves to him, what will?
When the plan does not work in his favor, an even more flustered Klaus kicks the useless agent out of the house he now owns and retreats to his room to paint. Without the spirits connecting to him, he decides to flip the tables and create a tribute painting for them.
What he discovers in his work is not fright, but an act of love -- a guilt-ridden church pillar's son submitting himself to his forgiving valet, their lives lost but their passion still alive and pulsing through the house. With Arnaud Chagall as the pillar's son and Ricky Roman as the valet, Klaus is not haunted but moved by their redemptive passion fucking and the forgotten brutality that failed to tear them apart.