TITLE: Watson Pritchett...A Life

FANDOM: House on Haunted Hill

KEYWORDS: Angst, Character Death, Pritchett POV, Horror

RATING. PG-13

SPOILERS: House on Haunted Hill

ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know where it's going.

SUMMARY: After the events of the movie, Pritchett reflects on his life

DISCLAIMER: House on Haunted Hill and Watson Pritchett do not belong to me, they belong to Dark Castle Entertainment, Universal Pictures, Chris Kattan, and others. I am making no money off of this...

NOTES: I recently got the house on haunted hill DVD and I learned a few facts about pritchett from the commentary that were not in the movie so i decided to use them to construct a story about pritchetts past. enjoy! :)....

By Cheri.

"I shouda known better!"....

I sigh as I walk around the attic. I should never have come in here. After everything that's happened to my family with this place, you think I'd be smarter than this. And now, It's too late. As I float along, I suddenly notice a stained envelope lying on the floor. Picking it up, I read on the front the words...

For Those Who Survive The Night

I open the envelope. My eyes widen as I realize I'm holding 5 cashiers checks for 1 million dollars each. So....Mr. Price wasn't lying about the money after all. I look over at the steel panel that Sara and Eddie had gone through and looked down at the envelope.

*Well, they certainly survived the night!* I think to myself as I stuff the checks back into the envelope *They deserve their reward!*

I float over to the panel and slide the envelope halfway under it. As I let go of the envelope, I heard Sara's faint voice on the other side

"What's this?" She says

I smile to myself as I hear them laughing. I savor the sound. I have a distinct feeling there won't be much laughter in this place. I freeze as I hear Sara again...

"Okay, how do we get down?"

*Shit* I think. I begin to wonder if I could travel through the internet, the way the house must have done when it made the guest list for the party, and alert someone. I relax, though, as I hear Eddie tell Sara...

"I've got my cell phone. I'll call 911"

*Good!* I think to myself as I settle down next to the panel to wait for their rescue. Outside, I can hear Eddie giving the 911 operator their location and what had happened during the night. I close my eyes and think back to when I was young. When I first became aware of this house....

***********

I remember first hearing about the house when I was 3 years old. I remember my grandfather had stayed with us for awhile after grandmother had died. He was a kindly man, but I remember he always had the saddest eyes. Even when he was happy, his eyes remained sad and soulful. At the time, I never understood why. but now I know It's because he held himself responsible for the atrocities that went on in the house. He had designed it to Doctor Vannacutts specifications, and he always said if he knew what It was going to be used for, he would have never built it.

I remember that he used to sit me on his lap in the rocking chair and just rock and rock for hours on end, staring into space. Everyone would try to snap him out of it, but he just ignored them. After awhile, they stopped trying and just attributed it to grief over grandmothers passing. I never bothered him either, I would just sit with him, listening to his soft breathing, as I wondered why he was doing this to himself.

One day, as we sat together, he suddenly looked down at me with tears in his eyes.

"Don't ever go to that house, Watson! Stay as far away from it as you can! Promise?"

I blink in confusion as I wonder what he's talking about. As I look at him, wide-eyed, He leans closer to my face.

"Promise?" He asks again.

"I promise!" I say not quite understanding what he was talking about.

Grandfather leans back into the rocking chair and begins to rock again, staring once again into space. I notice, however, that he has a small smile and his body has relaxed somewhat, as if he were relieved. Still confused, I lean back against his chest and rock with him....

If I had only kept that promise....

*************

A few months after that, Grandfather left our house and moved south to Florida, to a retirement home. It really wasn't his idea, my family decided that maybe he needed fresh air and sunshine to bring him out of his depression. I remember he tried to stop the move, telling my family that he needed to be with us, so that he could protect us. But, my mother, convinced that he was losing his sanity, had gotten power of attorney over him and forced him to go.

I remember as he left, he grabbed me and hugged me tight, convinced he would never see me again.

How right he was...

Two months later, my mom recieved a call from the retirement home saying that grandfather had passed away in his sleep. The autopsy said it was congestive heart failure, but I think he really died of a combination of a broken heart and guilt, both from what had occured at the house and the separation from his family.

Mother had his body flown up from Florida to be buried next to grandmother. I remember the day of the funeral. It was raining hard, and we had to stand out in the rain at the cemetary while the funeral was performed. I remember I was standing in front of my father and as I looked up at him. I could see he was trying not to cry like my mother, his jaw set firmly in place. I noticed that a few tears managed to escape and were working their way down his face. What really stuck with me though was the look in his eyes. He looked as though he knew more than he was letting on. I think maybe he was blaming the house for my grandfathers death, but I could never be sure. I tried a couple of times to talk to him about it as I was growing up, but he would just glare and walk away from me.

A couple of weeks after grandfathers death, my dad had to drive up to the house to collect the deed. He had inherited the house, much to his chagrin. He had tried to contest the will, but my grandfathers lawyer told him that grandfather insisted he inherit the house because he knew he would make sure that no one would inhabit it. Dad had argued against taking me with him, but my mom stated that I needed to go, so that I wouldn't grow up fearing the house like everyone else on Dad's side of the family did. In the end, my mom won out and with alot of grumbling and curses, my dad and I drove to the house.

As I jumped from the car seat to the ground, I looked up in awe at the house. It was the first time I had ever seen it and it was an imposing sight, especially to a 3 year old. I remember my first impression was that it seemed like a magical castle to me. Little did I know, this magical castle housed a deadly dragon inside.

As I stood and stared at the massive structure, trying to take it all in. I noticed my father arguing with the real estate guy. Although I couldn't make out everything, it seemed that the real estate guy was trying to get us to do a walk thru of the house before dad signed the deed. As I watched my dad, I could see the veins in his neck sticking out as his voice became more and more shrill...

"Ain't no way in Hell, you are gonna get me or my son to set foot in this damn house! Now give me the Goddamn deed so I can sign it and get the hell out of her!"

"Sir, You are being unreasonable! It is company policy for me to show you the inside before I can hand over the deed..."

At that point, my dad punched him in his eye. As he lay on the ground, my dad snatched up the deed. Signing it quickly, he threw it back in the guys face and stomped towards the car.

"C'mon Watson, Let's go!"

As dad and I got into the car and started it, the guy jumped up and waved his fist in the air at us. As we backed down the hill, I could hear his voice ring out over the hill

"LUNATIC!"

My dad snorted and looked at me...

"You're gonna get alot of that from people, Watson. People will call you freak or insane or lunatic because they have no idea of the magnatude of evil that exists in that house. You have to stay strong though, Watson. You have to protect the world from what our family has created. You have to keep people away from this house, understand?"

I nod, still not comprehending what my dad was talking about.

Again, just like grandfather, I could see my dad relax and the small smile creep on his face as he drove us home. What was it about the house that could inspire such fear? As a 3 year old, I could not grasp the concept of ultimate evil. As an adult, I understand it all too well.

***************

Growing up for me was relatively uneventful, save for the occasional teasing at school. I was never the strong, athletic type. I was a bit on the scrawny side with wire rimmed glasses that kept sliding down my nose. I was called every name in the book, it seemed like. but the most hurtful teasing was the loud whisperings of the children as they called my family murderers. I still didn't get it growing up and whenever I would ask people what they meant, they would give me an odd look and snicker amongst themselves. After awhile, I became a loner. It was a lonely childhood, but no one can mock you when you're by yourself.

As I grew though, I became aware that we were slipping into poverty. I didn't know this at the time, but the property taxes on the house were astronomical. My father, who was an architect by trade, took on as many jobs as he could just to break even and provide food for us. Somehow, we managed to get by night after night, but the stress took a toll on mom. Too much worrying about us caused her to die of a stroke when I was 12. My dad grieved for her, but he pressed on knowing that he had to support me now. I noticed though that almost overnight he went from being a vibrant young man to looking old and haggard. Yet another consequence of the family curse.

******************

When I was 17, My dad was approached by members of the Historic Preservation Society. They were looking to renovate the house and restore it to pristine condition. They felt it was a national landmark and it needed to be perserved for all time. My dad was adamant at first about anyone even stepping inside the house, but the money offered for the work he would do was too good to pass up. Reluctantly, he agreed, on the condition that he head up the project and have complete control over everything that went on. The society, eager to begin restoration, agreed and handed my dad the first of several payments they had promised him.

That night, my dad and I ate out for the first time in ages. We went to a local italian restaurant. My dad ordered fettucini alfredo and I had the spaghetti and meatballs. As we ate, My dad stared thoughtfully off into space. Finally he looked at me and spoke...

"Remember, when I told you that no one should ever go into the house?"

I nod.

"I thought about it today. It's not the house that's evil, Watson, It's the ghosts of all that perished in it. Perhaps, this restoration is a blessing in disguise."

I slurp up a long noodle and wipe my face with the napkin.

"What do you mean, dad?" I ask as I begin to spin the spaghetti onto my fork

"I'm going to try to contain the evil in the house, Watson!" Dad says, waving his fork at me.

He shakes his head as I stop spinning my fork and look at him strangely.

"I know it sounds crazy, son. But I think I know a way to do it. The source of the evil is concentrated mainly in the basement where Vannacutt performed his experiments. If I can somehow figure out where the evil is most prominant down there. I can seal it up for all time. If the evil is contained, the house would be safe and perhaps we could sell it to the preservation society and get it off our hands. Let them deal with the property taxes."

My dad chuckled at that, which bought a smile to my face. It had been years since I had heard him laugh and It felt good inside. I chuckle with him and go back to spinning my fork.

*******************

Over the next year and a half, My dad and his team worked diligently at restoring the house. They started near the top and worked their way down. They decided to turn the second floor into a kind of hotel where tourists could come and spin the night in a haunted insane asylum. I went a couple of times and looked at their work., although dad was always visibly nervous whenever I was inside the house. I had to admit that they had made the second floor very liveable, almost homey. It was hard to believe it had ever been an insane asylum. It now looked more like an old gothic mansion. The second time I came to visit, My dad took me aside and confinded that he had yet to go down in the basement. He wanted to make sure he was alone, so if something happened, only he would be affected. I shivered at that statement but I trusted my dad and I knew he would be extra careful.

Then the accident happened...

My dad came home one night looking very grim. He told me that one of the workers had been crushed to death while trying to disable the lockdown mechanism. According to dad, he was left alone for a moment while working on it. Suddenly everyone heard a scream and rushed to him. Somehow the worker had fallen into the gears and was pinned and crushed when they moved. The workers searched the entire area, but could find no evidence that anyone tampered with the gears or pushed him into them. Although the other workers dismissed it as a freak accident, dad was not convinced....

"I'm going to go into the basement in the morning son and seal up the damn ghosts, so that no one else will be hurt ever again!"

I tried and tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't have any of it. After awhile he went to his room and locked the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears.

***************

The next morning, I wake early before dad and gulping down some breakfast, I quickly run out and hide in the backseat of the pickup truck my dad was using to carry materials to the house. I noticed with some trepidation that the very back of the pickup truck was now filled with bricks. Apparently, while I had slept my dad had come out and loaded them in so I wouldn't be awake to protest. I hear my dad's alarm clock go off inside the house and I quickly jump into the back, covering myself with a tarp.

After about a half hour, I hear the front door slam. I slowly lower the tarp past my eyes. I see my dad standing by the truck looking at my room with a wistfull look. As he turns around, I quickly raise the tarp back over my head.

"Goodbye, my son! I love you" He says softly

I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I hear the truck door slam and the engine start. All the way to the house, I pray to God to keep my dad safe and not to let the house take him too.

I finally feel the truck climbing the hill after what seems like ages. I heard a sickening scrape as the bricks shift against the restraints and I pray that they don't fall over on me. After climbing for five minutes, I heard the engine being shut off and the door opening. As I hear my dad walk up the stairs to the front door, I lower the tarp and notice that we are backed up to the stairs. As my dad goes into the house I quickly jump out and run around the side. Dad emerges a few minutes later with the wheelbarrow that they had put in the salon to prevent it from being stolen. He clumsily edges the wheelbarrow down the stairs until it is in the narrow space between the truck and the stairs. Climbing onto the truck, dad releases the restrains and begins to throw some of the bricks into the wheelbarrow. When it is full, dad leaps off the truck and eases the wheelbarrow backwards up the stairs.

When he is inside, I cautiously run against the side and make my way slowly up the stairs. Praying that dad doesn't see me, I run to the door and look in. Seeing that dad is nowhere in sight, I quietly step in and walk as silently as I can towards the basement stairs. Flattening myself against the wall, I lean my head around and look down the stairs. I don't see anything except the grotesque skinned exhibits that Vannacutt had made, so, I slowly go down, one stair at a time. In the distance I can hear dad pounding the bricks. As I wonder, what the hell he is doing. I suddenly hear his voice ring out...

"No! Get away from me!"

"Dad!!" I scream as I begin to run down the corridor. My stomach churns as I suddenly hear a bloodcurdling scream and then silence. I run faster and faster trying desparetly to locate dad in the maze of corridors. I turn one corner and almost trip over him. I look down in horror as I see the corpse of my dad, a horrified expression on his face. As I look him over, I notice with revulsion that the trowel he had been using had been rammed into his chest. I look over and notice that my dad had been trying to brick up a room. He had only a few bricks left before it would have been sealed up. I stood in shock for a few moments and then sobbing uncontrollably, I sink to the floor beside my dad and cry my heart out.

***************

After the funeral, I was on my own. I was unaware of any other relatives and I was pretty sure that none of them would want an 18 year old kid living with them anyway. I went through a series of odd jobs trying to make ends meet, especially since I now owned the house and the enormous property taxes. After the accidents, the preservation society pulled out of the deal leaving me with barely any income. I tried to sell the house off, no longer caring about protecting it from the rest of the world. But, thanks to the history and the recent accidents there were no takers. I slipped deeper and deeper into poverty. There were nights when I had nothing to eat but crackers and cheese and I became even thinner than I had already been.

It became worse and worse until I finally had no choice but to sell our house and all it's possessions at auction when I was 24. With the money, I recieved, I paid the property taxes for the year on the house and used the rest to buy a supply of nonperishable food and a beat up old gremlin. I used the gremlin as a makeshift house moving it from place to place when the cops chased me out. I finally ended up down the hill from the asylum since it was my property and no one could tell me to move. I lived for a year in the shadow of that hatefull house scrounging for food, and accepting odd jobs where I could get them, occasionally driving to a homeless shelter in town so I could get a shower and a hot meal.

It got so bad, I seriously considered breaking the law so I could get a nice warm jail cell.

Then Price showed up....

*****************

It was about 9 in the morning when I was awakened to the sound of a car making it's way up the hill. I turned around in the front seat of the gremlin and was amazed to see a stretch limo stopping behind me. Thinking that perhaps, they had gotten off on the wrong road, I got out of the car and walked towards the car, ready to offer directions.

The back door of the limo opened and a smartly dressed man emerged. He had a pencil thin mustache and short brown curly hair. I suddenly felt embarrassed at my unkempt look and 5 o clock shadow on my face. Shifting his cigar to his left hand, he stood and look at me with a mixture of curiousity and amusement.

"Watson Pritchett?" He asked tentatively.

As I nod sheepishly, He extends his right hand. As I take it, he gives my hand a firm shake, and steps back quickly wrinkling his nose at the funk i'm giving off.

"I'm Steven Price, owner of Price Amusement Parks, I'm sure you've heard of me"

As I shake my head, the smile falls from his face.

"Oh."He said softly. "Well, no matter, I want to talk to you about renting your property for the night"

I perk up at this.

"You...want to rent the house?" I ask incredulously.

Price nods.

"Well...It's not really for me so much as for my wife. Apparently she saw the house on a stupid program and she wants me to make arrangements for her birthday party to be here."

I blink in surprise. I wonder if I heard that right

"A birthday party...here?" I ask slowly.

Steven nods quickly as he glances up towards the house.

"Yes, the stupid bitch wants to do something daring with her friends."

I'm taken aback at his use of the word "bitch" to describe his wife. I begin to open my mouth when he leans in conspiratorily

"Just between you and me, I shredded her guest list and invited some greedy bastards instead, she'd be more comfortable with them anyway."

He leans back up and puffs on his cigar with a smug expression on his face.

I can't believe this is happening to me. It's like a dream. I realize though that having a party here would be a horrible idea.

"No!" I finally blurt out. "That's out of the question"

I watch as the smug expression melts away from his face.

"May I ask...why?" He says in disbelief

"Why?" I say harsly. "Why? Do you know what went on at this house?"

Price nods

"Of course I do, that's why my wife wants the party here. She has a warped sense of humor, trust me"

"I believe it!" I mumble

Price grins.

"Would money help you change your mind?"

I lean back against the gremlin.

"I'm listening" I say warily

Prince snickers to himself

"Ah, the almighty dollar. I haven't met anyone yet who could pass up some cold hard cash."

I fold my arms over my chest

"Is there a point to this?" I ask testily

Price nods.

"Indeed there is, Mr. Pritchett. 50,000 points to be exact. which is the amount of money I'll pay you to let me rent this house."

"You're...serious?" I ask slowly.

"Of course, Mr. Pritchett. I'm offering you 50,000 dollars to let me and my wife host this party for 5 friends...for one night!"

I scratch my cheek thoughtfully as I glance up at the house. My father and grandfathers words ring in my head, warning me not to take the money. but on the other hand, the property taxes were coming up again and it would be nice to have some money on hand. Besides, It would probably be okay just as long as they...

"Stay out of the basement." I say.

"Beg pardon?" Price says

"I'll let you rent the house for the night, but please stay out of the basement. It's...not finished. " I say quickly.

It's not the truth, but it's not a lie either.

Price scoffs

"Whatever you say, Mr. Pritchett. We'll be sure to stay out of the basement. "

"Make sure you do!" I blurt out

Pritchett gives me an odd look.

"Just...trust me, please"

Price nods.

"The party will take place in two days. You'll recieve your check for 50,000 after you escort the guests up to the house and make sure they're settled in. Is it a deal?"

I nod reluctantly, not entirely sure of all this.

"Deal!"

Price smiles.

"I'll see you then, Mr. Pritchett. Good day!"

As he turns to leave, I hear him mutter "Freak" under his breath.

As I watch the car back down the hill, I begin to think I just made a deal I would soon regret.

Little did I know....

**************

My eyes fly open as I hear the sound of a hellicopter. I look over at the steel panel and grin as I hear Sara and Eddie rejoicing. At least I was able to make something good come out of this night. It was almost worth the painfull death I had to endure. I hear a rescuer calling to Sara and Eddie, giving them instructions. If anyone deserved the 5 million, it was them.

I breathe a sigh of relief and turn around. I jump as I notice that the shadow is now directly in front of me. I look up and notice that Vannacutts face is glaring down at me from the top of it

"I believe it is time for you to suffer for these escapes" He says.

Before I can do anything, I feel myself being grabbed and carried away into the depths of the house.

My reward for not surviving the night....

The End.