Haunted House Tales

by Riley Amitrani

  Natalie moved closer, step by step, almost like she could not have stopped herself now even if she had willed herself to. As she got close enough so she could see the expression on Antony’s face through the lights and mist, there was an abrupt change. The former laughter and joy on his face ran away in an instant, and they were replaced with a look of pure abject fear and terror that Natalie had never seen in him before. She came to a skidding halt.

  “Please. No!” Antony cried out in a desperate plea, but Natalie knew immediately that this was not directed at her. “I’m begging you, no!”

  Antony began to back-pedal from the opening and his heels caught on an uneven edge of a stone in the floor and he fell backwards, his head hitting the floor with a sick-sounding smack.

  “Stay away, Nat! Don’t come any closer!”

  Natalie thought she had reached the highest level of fear possible in her life when this had begun, but what she was feeling now made that seem insignificant. Unconsciously, she stepped backward moving just on instinct. Antony got shakily to his knees and continued his desperate pleas for mercy toward whatever it was that he was looking at through that opening. Natalie’s body shook with uncontrollable tremors as she watched in horror as Antony was near tears in his supplications. He finally grabbed the side of the open door and use his arms to pull himself to his feet once again.

  There were small rivulets of blood running down the back of his head from where he had collided with the stone floor, but he charged ahead using what looked to Natalie like the last bit of strength he had to slam the door shut. Just as Antony was getting the door dislodged from a high-set stone in the floor, something flew out of the room through the now blinding yellow light and hit him flush in the face. Natalie screamed as Antony was thrown back again onto the hard, unforgiving stones. His body bounced once and then came to a rest just beyond the arc of the door’s opening.

  Natalie ran to his fallen form and knelt down, not knowing what had happened or what exactly to do. Antony was now bleeding more freely from the back of his head and his face was crushed into a pulp. She knew she was nearing being in clinical shock as she just looked down at him and sobbed. Natalie had no medical training, but from what she could tell, he was no longer breathing. She looked wildly around to see what it was that had struck Antony in the face, but the hallway behind him and all around them was empty.

  Just as a reaction, Natalie looked up into the room beyond the open door. She squinted her eyes, but between her tears and the harsh light still blaring from the room it was hard to see anything. Just as she was about to give up, the light went out and the interior of the room was filled with deep darkness. Natalie blinked to let her eyes adjust to the change and without thinking she just grabbed her camera and pointed it into the opening and began to snap off shots. She had no idea why…it was she supposed, just a natural reaction to her training.

  As she clicked off the last frame, she looked away from the camera viewer and froze as the image of a soldier, much like the ones she had read about from the war, was now standing in the doorway staring down at her. His expression was neutral. Before she could react, though, the soldier raised a large hammer that he had been holding in his hand that had been hidden from her view, and he threw it, watching without emotion, as it struck Natalie solidly on the side of her head.

  She collapsed next to Antony’s body, her camera flying across the hall and smashing into a thousand pieces on the stones. Natalie raised her head as she struggled to remain conscious, her blood now flowing heavily from her wound and mixing on the floor with Antony’s. Before finally falling down for what would be the last time ever, Natalie shuddered as the whistling began once again. She used the last bit of effort she had remaining to see the soldier standing over them, his old, decaying boots in the pools of their comingled blood, the tatters of his moldy uniform hanging loosely off his frame. Off behind him, the whistling was picked up by an unseen chorus of voices as the soldier began singing softly:

  “I’ll be seeing you again in all the old familiar places…”

  The Haunting of Magnolia House

  By Riley Amitrani

  Prologue

  3rd August 1972

  Magnolia House

  London

  6:54 PM

  Evelyn Summers stood in her silk underwear in front of her bedroom mirror. She held up a floor length mustard dress in front of her and looked at her reflection. She threw it on the bed then held up a pink chiffon dress and did the same. Neither were quite right. She wished she had bought herself something new to wear. Evelyn and her husband were hosting a dinner party that night. She had prepared the prawn cocktails, and the duck a l’orange was in the oven. She was ready to serve snowball cocktails and brandy, and the table had been set. The last step was deciding on what to wear.

  Evelyn heard the sound of a car approaching. She went over to the window and drew back the net curtain. She looked out onto the street, and the empty parking space below her house. The car was the next-door neighbour arriving home in his Ford Cortina. She breathed out a sigh of relief at having some time left. Evelyn watched him get out of his car and go to the front door to be greeted by his wife. Evelyn and her husband lived in the end house on a very nice street where each newly built house looked the same as the next. They had only recently moved in, and were keen to impress their new neighbours that night. Evelyn wandered over to her dressing table and picked up her bottle of Charlie fragrance. As she was spraying it on her neck, she saw a face in the mirror. She was being watched.

  “Mummy?” Evelyn turned at the voice. Her four-year-old daughter, Sarah, was stood in the doorway watching her. In her hand was her favourite doll Rebecca. She was carrying her by her patchy hair. The doll’s face was painted with rosy cheeks and lips curved into a grotesque smile. Its blue glass eyes were looking in different directions. Evelyn hated that doll. In Sarah’s other hand was a ball. “Mummy, I want to play.” She threw the ball towards her mum. It hit the floor and slowly rolled towards her. Evelyn bent down to pick up the ball and held it out for Sarah. She noticed Sarah had a wet trail coming from her nose.

  “No darling, Mummy is getting ready to go out. Go downstairs and play.” Evelyn stood up, keen to not get her silk underwear dirty. She picked up the ball and threw it out of the room and down the hallway. She turned her back on Sarah, who walked away. Evelyn turned back to the mirror. She decided on the mustard dress and slipped it on. She sat at her dressing table and started to apply her make up. Downstairs she could hear Sarah singing baa baa black sheep. Evelyn got up and put on a record. Diana Ross always helped to get her in the mood to go out. She selected a peach lipstick and carefully applied it. She then styled her hair, and selected some shoes to wear. She was ready. She turned off her record. It was quiet downstairs.

  “Are you alright Sarah?” She called. There was no answer. Evelyn went to the hallway and called down again. There was no response. She went downstairs and into the kitchen. The hatch to their cellar was open. Evelyn approached the cellar and looked down the stairs. It was dark, the light to the cellar not working. She took a couple of steps down and her eyes started to adjust to the light. She looked at the bottom of the staircase. She could see Sarah’s doll, Rebecca lying on the floor, her face still in that unnatural smirk.

  Magnolia House

  20th May 2017

  Magnolia House

  London

  4:42 PM

  “Be careful with that one, it has fragile on it for a reason,” Jess said to the delivery man in reaction to hearing the sound of glass jangling from the rain sodden cardboard box he was carrying. She turned to her partner Mickey and rolled her eyes. But Mickey hadn’t seen, he was too busy staring at his phone.

  “So Jess, how does it feel to be a homeowner?” Mickey approached, shoving his phone camera towards her. “Come on, I want to make a vlog about today.” Jess rolled her eyes and pushed the camera away.

  “Maybe later then? Hey, at least I’ve found this
box,” Mikey said, as he pointed at a box labelled ‘kettle’. He went inside the house, camera in one hand and the box in the other. Mickey was excited. Ever since they had met two years ago, Jess had known Mickey’s dream was to buy an old house to renovate. He would have loved to have bought a former Victorian orphanage or a converted church, but this 1970’s terraced house would have to do. He had decided to make a video log of the moving in and renovation process. Jess watched him tilting his phone around, looking at every wall and ceiling, whilst talking to the camera.

  Sarah tilted her umbrella back and looked at their new home. The name ‘Magnolia House’ was ironic for a house which was surrounded by weeds and gnarled branches. The crazy paving of the driveway was uneven and damaged, with weeds sprouting up within the cracks. It led to an integral garage with an avocado green painted door which was covered in years of dirt. The two-storey high 1970’s house situated on a street of near identical terraced houses. Their most prominent feature was their angular sloped roofs which looked like a row of shark fins. The house had plastic white cladding which was covered in green grime. The white painted front door was peeling, revealing the bare wood underneath. At clouded windows hung yellowed net curtains. In the grey February rain the house looked even less appealing. But Mickey had fallen in love with it. It had been empty since the seventies and nothing had been changed inside. Jess was just pleased they had got a good deal on it. As Jess was looking, she noticed the net at next doors window twitching. She was being watched. She raised her hand and gave a friendly wave. The curtain stopped moving.

  “Where do you want this one?” One of the removal men broke her thoughts. They were carrying her antique desk, her most treasured possession and the only piece of furniture they owned which hadn’t been a flat pack.

  “Upstairs in the second bedroom,” she said, following them in and watching tentatively in case they damaged it.

  Jess had forgotten just how much work the house needed. The walls were covered in textured wallpaper that felt like sandpaper when you touched it. The light bulb in the hallway was covered in a lampshade with more tassels then a cabaret show, and the carpet was a pattern that could bring on a hallucination. The air smelt damp like an old church. The living room was wallpapered in a circular orange and yellow pattern. There was a gas fire on one wall. Although there was no furniture in the house, there were still paintings on the walls and a trio of wooden ducks on the wall, as if in flight. There was a large mirror above the fireplace that had a large crack in one corner and rust around the edges.

  “Hey, nothing that we can’t change. This place will feel like our own soon enough,” Mickey said guessing her thoughts. He slipped an arm around her waist and passed her a mug of coffee. He could always sense what she was feeling. Jess turned to him and smiled.

  “You’re right. We can make this our home,” Jess said. She realised the removal men were hovering in the hallway waiting. Jess went and paid them.

  “Shall we bring Bella in?” Mickey said. Bella was their tortoiseshell house cat, and Jess’s baby. Mickey went to get her cat carrier from the car. The stress of moving had caused her to cry for the whole journey. Jess went into the kitchen and checked they had everything ready. It was the first time since moving she had been into the kitchen. It was bright with double doors to the garden. The units were avocado in colour. On the floor was a large red rug which looked as out of place as it was unhygienic. Her litter tray was near the back door, the basket was in the living room and so was her cat climbing frame. Jess ignored all of these dated remains and looked at the cat climbing frame. Jess was pleased that her Bella would have more room to roam. That was about the only positive she could think of about the house. The front door shut with a bang.

  “It’s ok Bella, you crazy mog. Calm down.” It was Mickey brining Bella inside. He was carrying her in her cat carrier which was covered with a blanket. Inside she wailed and scratched. “I think you need to take her.” He passed the carrier to Jess.

  “Hey Bella, are you ok?” Jess set her carrier down on the sofa and knelt next to her. She lifted up the blanket and looked inside. Bella was stood up, back arched and hair on end. “Maybe I should leave her in here a bit longer until she calms down?” Jess took the blanket off but left the carrier shut. Mickey had walked off, his patience with Bella growing thin. He was stood at the back door. “Are you ok?” Jess said.

  “I’m just working out what all these keys are for,” Mickey said. Jess looked at the large keyring full of keys that the estate agent had given them. Mickey identified the one which opened the back door. It creaked open. The rain had subsided, the ground left covered in muddy puddles. Outside the small patio was covered in weeds. There were a few discarded plastic plant pots in the corner. Behind the garden they could see the London skyline in the distance. Jess went and joined Mickey and looked past the garden to the grey tower blocks and tall cranes in the distance. It comforted her and made her feel lonely all at once. As ugly as their house was, it was a sensible purchase. A run-down house in the suburbs which one day would be worth a lot more. As they looked she heard a noise next door. It was someone in the garden. Jess raised her finger to her lips to signify Mickey to not talk. She crept over to the wooden fence and looked through a small hole into next doors garden. This garden was full of plants and flowers. In fact, they had taken over the small garden making it a forest. She looked through the foliage and could make out a petite, hunched over woman with patchy grey hair. She was wearing a moth-eaten cardigan. She was bent over, shears in hand. As Jess watched the woman stood up and turned around, looking at the fence exactly where Jess was peeking through. Jess jumped back. She knew that the hole was too small for the woman to see through, but that didn’t stop her feeling tense.

  “Let’s go back inside,” Jess said. They went back into the kitchen and Jess went into the adjoining living room. She peeked into the cat carrier, Bella was now still. Mickey was busying himself in the kitchen, so Jess decided to go and explore upstairs. She went up the staircase, which creaked with every step, and into the main bedroom. Their bed was in the middle, surrounded by boxes arranged haphazardly by the removal men. She inspected the brown floral wallpaper that was peeling from the corners. The air was thick with dust. Jess went over to the window and pulled back the dirty net. She opened the window as wide as it would go. Fresh post rain air gushed into the room. She looked out across the street. Staring back was a row of identical houses. The street below was full of parked people carriers. An old man walked past pushing a trolley that creaked with each slow shuffle he took. They were in suburbia. Jess sighed. She already missed their old flat. It was a small one bedroom flat in Camden which had cost them a small fortune to rent. But she loved the hustle of being in the middle of everything and two minutes away from the tube. The smell of street food cooking, the sound of the market traders, and how the flat shook sometimes when a train went past. But they couldn’t afford to buy anywhere in Camden, it was only by moving further afield that they could afford it. And this area was supposed to be up and coming. Whatever that meant.

  Jess stepped away from the window and went to the second bedroom. This room was covered in ugly wooden cladding. Up against the wall was her desk. She ran her hands over the aged wood. Jess was a writer and this desk was where she had always worked. As she was looking around she heard a noise above her head. She looked up at the ceiling. It was a creaking sound coming from the attic. Jess reached up on tip toes and touched the ceiling. She thought she could sense something move up there.

  “Jess?” Mickey called her. “Come here.” She turned around and headed to the door.

  “Yes Mickey?” She called down.

  “Come and let the cat out so we can put the dinner on,” he called. Mickey wasn’t asking out of concern for her, he was only thinking of his own stomach. Bella was always fed first so she didn’t try to eat their food when they were eating. Jess glanced up at the celling then headed downstairs and into the living room.
She looked in the cat carrier. Bella was asleep. She opened the door and put an arm in, scooping the sleeping Bella up into her arms. She was a warm mass of fuzz, and Jess felt instantly relaxed holding her.

  “Come on, let’s get you some food,” Jess said as she carried her into the kitchen. Mickey was chopping vegetables and adding them into a pot. It smelt like bolognaise. Jess shut the door behind her to keep the smell out. He had laid her bowl of food and water out on the floor ready for Bella. She scratched Bella behind her ear until she started to stir. “Come on girl, time to wake up,” Jess said. Bella woke and dug her claws hard into Jess’s arm. Jess yelped and dropped Bella onto the floor. Bella ran around the small kitchen in circles.

  “Pick that bloody cat up!” Mickey shouted.

  “I’m trying,” Jess shouted back. She opened the door to the living room to retrieve Bella’s carrier, then headed back into the kitchen. Bella was standing in a corner, back arched, hair on end and hissing. Jess crept closer and closer with the box.

  “Here give it to me,” Mickey snatched it out of her hand. “You distract her.”

  “Come on Bella, calm down,” Jess said as she held her hand under her chin at her. Bella hissed at her and tried to swipe her hand. Jess jumped to one side and tripped over the ghastly rug, causing it to slip out from underneath her feet.

  “I’ve got her, stupid cat,” Mickey said as he shut the cat carrier on her. “You’re going back in the living room to calm down. Are you ok?” He said to Jess, finally noticing her on the floor, where she had fallen.