Ghosts, Ghouls, and Haunted Houses

by Carrie King

  The real estate agent looked uncomfortable for the first time since they had met her. She cleared her throat, “I didn’t say how long. But it has stood empty for several years.” She flicked through the pages in her hand. “I’m sorry; I don’t know the exact date it became vacant.”

  “Can you give us a few minutes, Yvonne? We would like to look around on our own.” Nigel reached for Erica’s hand. “Come on, darling. Let’s go back upstairs.”

  The young couple walked up the creaking stairs, hand in hand. “I think we should make an offer,” Nigel said once they were alone. “It’s perfect. With all the grounds and the additional rooms, it’s a massive bargain.”

  They stopped outside the main bedroom. A large four poster bed, the only remaining piece of furniture in the house, dominated the room.

  Without warning, Nigel bent and picked Erica up and ran into the room to throw his wife onto the bed. Clouds of dust billowed into the air and Erica shrieked with laughter.

  “Is everything all right up there?” Yvonne called up the stairs.

  Nigel jumped onto the bed, causing Erica to bounce in the air for a moment, and instigating a fresh round of giggles from her. He lay beside her and brushed the blonde locks back off her cheek.

  “Everything is fine,” he called out to Yvonne. “We’ll be back down in a minute.”

  He caught a lock of Erica’s hair in his fingers. “I love you,” he whispered. “I can’t wait for us to move in here. This will be a wonderful new beginning for us.” He bent his head and kissed her gently.

  Erica loved the feel of his stubble and the kiss melted her heart. Their first kiss in their new home for she knew they had to have this place. It just felt right. She looked into her husband’s eyes and reached up to gently stroke his face. “I love you too. And yes, the house is perfect.”

  “I do have another appointment,” Yvonne called. “I’m sorry to hurry you, but ….”

  “Coming!” Nigel climbed off the bed and pulled Erica up. “Come on. We’ll go back to the office and complete all the paperwork.”

  They ran back downstairs to join Yvonne, who was now waiting just outside the front door, tapping her fingers impatiently against the door handle. “Oh, there you are. Have you decided if you want to make an offer?”

  “Yes, we have. We like the house, if you reduce the price by £2000, we will take it,” Nigel said.

  Erica held her breath. Her husband was so brave and clever, she would never have thought of such a thing.

  “Absolutely,” Yvonne reached out her hand to shake but it never crossed the threshold.

  Nigel stepped outside and shook it with great vigor. “I guess we just need to sign on the dotted line.” Nigel stepped back inside and glanced into the living room off the entranceway and frowned. “Was that fireplace set up before? I can’t remember seeing it. It looks for all the world as if someone just placed the wood there, ready to light it.”

  Yvonne was already walking away from the door and stepping off the wide front step. “I guess it must have been. I’ll take you back to the office now. Pull the door shut behind you please.”

  They stepped out and held hands. Erica was so excited she just wanted to stay here and never leave. Their first home!

  Nigel pulled her gently off the step and winked, she guessed he understood how she felt. She looked at the sky. Black clouds scudded quickly overhead and the air was damp. She shivered as Nigel opened the car door for her, and just as she stepped in, she felt the first drop of cold rain land on her face.

  As the car pulled away from the house, a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead, and the rain poured down heavily, creating almost instant puddles in the rutted track.

  Yvonne switched the car headlights on and leaned forward to peer through the windscreen.

  Erica reached over and squeezed Nigel’s hand. “I love you,” she mouthed.

  He reached over and kissed her.

  No one saw the figure appear in an upstairs window as the car left the property. No one noticed the thick yellow mist seep under the front door and hang like a shroud in front of it. No one heard, through the driving rain and the crack of thunder, the sound of ominous whispering.

  Chapter 9

  “That’s the last box.” Nigel set the cardboard box on the kitchen bench and wiped his hand across his face, leaving a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He looked around. “Where did we put the kettle and coffee cups? I’d kill for a hot drink.”

  “They’re here.” Erica unpacked the kettle from one of the boxes and turned the tap over the sink. Once again, the pipes gurgled and hissed and just a few drops of rusty water fell into the sink. “Oh. There’s no water.”

  “It’s probably been turned off. Yvonne did say the house had been empty for a long time. There is a pump in the backyard, probably an old artesian well. I’ll see if I can get that working, and after we’ve had coffee I’ll find out where to turn the water back on.” Nigel took the kettle and strode from the kitchen and down the short passageway to the back door. “It’s locked,” he called. “Do you have the key?”

  Erica turned to pick up the ring of keys from the bench. She frowned. She could have sworn it was there just a moment ago. She looked around. Their furniture had not yet arrived; it was being delivered tomorrow, and there was nothing else in the room except for the stacks of cardboard boxes. Where could she have put them?

  She looked across the room. The keys were sitting in the dust of the window sill on the far wall. Strange. She couldn’t remember putting them there, but so much had been happening that she could’ve done anything without thinking. She walked over to get them and then hurried to join Nigel.

  Erica watched as Nigel fiddled with the pump. Long strands of vine nearly covered the old-fashioned mechanism, and the metal was heavy with rust. Nigel pushed and pulled the greenery. Ripping it away impatiently. “I’m going to need some tools. I’ll get my toolkit from the car.” He strode off around the side of the house.

  Catching sight of a glimmer of something white in the long grass at the edge of the overgrown garden, Erica walked over to see what it was. She pushed aside the grasses with her foot, then jumped back, startled. The gleaming white bones of a skull stared up at her, the eye sockets black and bare. She swallowed hard, her heart thumping against her chest. Then she took another look, it was from an animal. It was probably just a cow’s skull. Here she was jumping at the slightest thing. That was just silly.

  The stand of sycamores over to one side of the property rustled in a sudden breeze, the leaves whispering and rippling. She had a sudden feeling that someone was watching her from within the thicket of trees and she peered closer, trying to discern any shapes in the shadows.

  “Shit!”

  Erica jumped at the sound of Nigel’s voice. She turned around quickly. He was standing by the pump, sucking the side of his hand. “Sorry. I cut myself,” he said apologetically. He looked down at the vivid gash of blood, clearly visible against his skin. “I guess I’ll need to put a plaster on that. But look, we have water!” He pumped the pump enthusiastically and a steady stream of clear water poured onto the ground.

  Erica walked over as he filled the kettle with water. “There’s a lot of work to do in the garden,” she said.

  Nigel laughed. “Darling, there’s a lot of work to do in the entire house. Come on. Come back inside. We’ll have coffee and I’ll put a plaster on this cut. You’ll need to make the bed up too … we’ll want to christen our new house tonight.” He slapped at Erica’s rump teasingly and she smacked his hand away, laughing up at him.

  They walked back inside, leaving the back door open.

  A shadowy figure stepped out from the sycamore trees and stood, watching the house. Moments later, the figure was gone again, leaving just a trace of curling yellow mist hanging in the air.

  Erica walked upstairs, carrying her coffee cup and some clean sheets. Nigel had gone outside again to find where to turn on the water for the house.

  She
placed her coffee cup on the lip of the stair banister and walked into the main bedroom, screwing up her nose at the sight of the dusty bed cover.

  Earlier she had cleaned and scrubbed the bedroom, now she wished she had done this before. It was too late to worry about that now and she set the clean sheets on the wide windowsill and pulled at the cover. That could go straight in the garbage.

  She coughed as clouds of dust followed the path of the cover when she pulled it off the bed and she threw it in a heap on the floor.

  The mattress under the cover was old, but it looked clean enough. It would do for one night, until their own mattress arrived. She picked up a sheet from the windowsill and laid it out across the mattress. A sudden crash made her jump and rose the hair on her arms. She held her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

  What was that?

  She hurried from the room, looking around. Her eyes fell on the lip of the banister. Hadn’t she left her coffee cup there? She leaned over the banister rail and looked down to the floor below. The shards of the coffee cup were spread across the floorboards, and her coffee made a wide, wet stain across the wood. She frowned. How could the cup have fallen? There was nothing that could have knocked it from its steady perch.

  Erica hurried downstairs to clear up the mess, just as Nigel opened the front door. “The water should be on now. Oh.” He looked down at the broken ceramic spread across the floor. “Did you have an accident?”

  Erica stooped to pick up the broken pieces of the cup. “It fell from the top banister rail. I have no idea how. Perhaps there was a breeze or something.” She stood up. “I’ll just get a cloth to clean it up. Thanks for getting the water working again, honey.” She leaned forward to kiss Nigel, and he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close.

  “Mmmmm.” Erica looked up into Nigel’s soft brown eyes and smiled. “I like that.”

  He grinned. “How are you going with making up the bed? Something tells me we’re going to opt for an early night.”

  Erica giggled. “Sounds good to me. Now, let me put these broken pieces in the bin and clean up the coffee.”

  Nigel dropped his hands. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll go and get my toolkit from outside. There are a couple of stuck windows that I want to fix.” He reached over to tweak her nose and then walked off towards the back door, whistling.

  Erica dropped the broken cup into the rubbish bin she’d placed under the sink. She glanced at the kettle, considering making herself another coffee, but changed her mind. As she turned to leave the kitchen, she heard something hit the window beside her and looked up in surprise.

  Something small and gray lay upon the outside sill.

  Pressing her face against the window she was dismayed to see a tiny brown bird lying on the sill. Its eyes were closed and its feet were curled tightly up against its body. Poor thing; it had flown into the pane of glass. She stared at it for a moment, but there was no sign of life. Sighing, she turned away, picked up a cloth, and walked back to clear away the coffee stain.

  Chapter 10

  Erica finished cleaning and walked back upstairs to continue making the bed. She glanced at the banister rail as she passed the top of the stairs. She still did not understand how the coffee cup could have fallen. The area was wide and flat and she could have sworn that she hadn’t placed the mug too close to the edge.

  Shaking her head she walked into the bedroom and stopped with a gasp. The bed cover she had left on the floor of the bedroom was now back on the bed, smooth and unwrinkled. She looked around, confused. Nigel must have snuck up here and put the cover back on the bed to scare her. Shaking her head, she grasped the cover by the corner and pulled it back down onto the floor. The sheet she’d laid on the bed was still in place but now covered in dust. Ripping it off she picked up the remaining sheet from the windowsill and put it on the bed. Nigel liked two sheets as well as a duvet but they would manage with one for tonight.

  All she needed now was their pillows and bedcover from one of the boxes downstairs, and the bed would be ready for their first night in their new home.

  Erica stepped back down the stairs and walked into the kitchen to check through the piles of boxes, looking for the one marked Bedroom in thick, black ink. She found the box and opened the flaps, pulling out their pillows and duvet before once again walking back upstairs.

  She was back inside the bedroom before she noticed that, again, the original bedcover was spread across the bed. She dropped the items she was carrying. This time she knew she had left the cover in a heap on the floor, and there was no way Nigel could have come back inside while she was collecting the rest of the bedding. The front door suddenly banged, and she jumped in fright.

  “Nigel, is that you? Come up here for a minute.” She heard his footsteps on the stairs and waited for her husband to join her. Several minutes later, when he didn’t step into the bedroom, she looked out onto the threshold at the top of the stairs. No one was there. “Nigel?” Confused, she looked into each of the other upper-level rooms, but they were all empty. Feeling uneasy, she walked down the stairs and down the hallway to look out of the back door. Nigel was in the garden, turning over the soil with a spade.

  “Nigel, did you come inside just now and walk up the stairs?” Erica’s voice sounded high pitched and uneven to her ears.

  Her husband pushed the spade deep into the ground to enable it to stand upright by itself and looked over toward her. “What was that?” He started to walk to her.

  “Were you in the house a few minutes ago?”

  Nigel shook his head. “No. I found a spade in the grass, half covered by weeds, and I decided to attack the garden.” He looked closely at her. “Is everything all right?”

  Erica shook her head, feeling suddenly disoriented and dizzy. “I must just be tired. I swore I heard you walking up the stairs. I wanted to show you what was happening in the bedroom. Every time I left the room, the bedcover was replaced on the bed.”

  Nigel frowned. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound plausible.” He looked at her for a long moment, his face creased with concern. “It’s been a long couple of days, Erica. Come with me while I chop some wood for the fire. We’ll light the woodstove in the kitchen and the fire in the living room and make our new house cozy.” He reached for her hand. “Come on, sweetheart. You must be just imagining things.”

  Erica allowed her husband to lead her over to where a stack of logs lay beside the house. She waited while he collected his toolkit from beside the pump and pulled out a small hatchet. She shivered. She was positive she hadn’t imagined the bedcover incident, and she was sure she’d heard footsteps on the stairs. She glanced over towards the sycamore trees.

  “Nigel, what is that?” She raised a shaky hand to point.

  Nigel followed her gaze. A plume of yellow mist hung in the air in front of the trees, expanding and contracting in front of their eyes.

  Erica could hear a low whispering sound. “Can you hear that?”

  Nigel frowned. “I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the wind in the trees making that noise, but I don’t know what that mist is. But this is an old property, Erica, and I’ve just stirred up the garden and fiddled with the water. It’s probably some old gas escaping from somewhere. Something created by all the decaying leaves and stagnant water around the place. It’s nothing. Look, I’ll just chop some kindling wood and we’ll go inside. We’re both tired. The house is mostly empty, and all empty houses have an odd feeling to them. We’re used to being in a flat, surrounded by people and not in the country. I guarantee that once our own furniture arrives tomorrow and we have all our own stuff here, everything will feel a lot different.”

  Erica nodded. Nigel was probably right. She was tired, and she was starting to imagine too many things. She stared at the mist again, and as she watched it dissolved and dissipated. Shaking her head and rolling her shoulders to ease the tension, she bent to pick up the pieces of kindling.

  Nigel hit a log with the ax, and she
resolved to put the strange events of the afternoon out of her mind.

  Nigel soon had the fires in both rooms sparking and flaming, and the house instantly felt better.

  Erica stood in front of the fire in the living room, feeling the heat from the flames seep into her bones. Holding her hands out, fingers spread wide, the fire soon warmed them. “This is nice. I can’t explain why the bedcover kept reappearing on the bed, but I’m sure it is all down to my tiredness. I’ll make some spaghetti soon for dinner and we can spend our first night in our new home.”

  Her husband walked over and stood behind her, pressing his body into her back. He lifted her hair from her neck and bent his head to kiss the soft skin there. “Mmmmm,” he murmured.

  The touch of his lips, the trace of stubble and the feel of his body eased all her tension and soon she was thinking about their first night in a real house. It was going to be fun she sighed and leaned back against him. Everything would be okay.

  Chapter 11

  Erica reached over sleepily and turned on the shower taps. Stretching her arms above her head languidly she yawned, tipped her head back. Letting her towel fall to the floor she opened her eyes, ready to step into the shower. And screamed for all she was worth.

  “Erica! What is it?” Nigel ran from the bedroom to the bathroom, half asleep and naked. He stood in the doorway. “What is the matter? Are you hurt?”

  She stared in horror at the spreading bloodstain in the base of the shower. “Look! There’s blood!”

  Nigel looked down. Then he started to laugh. He reached over and switched off the taps. “It’s not blood, Erica, just rust in the pipes. Water has not flowed through these old pipes for years—of course we have to expect a bit of trouble. Now, come back to bed for a while. I’ll fix it soon.”