The House We Haunted and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  "And how would Luke and Wilbur react to that?" I ask.

  "Fine," she mutters darkly. "Sometimes I envy you, though. You're free. You can just get up and go anywhere you want, without having to worry about other people. I remember when my life was like that. Sometimes I wish..."

  I wait for her to finish. "What do you wish?" I ask, still keeping my eyes firmly on the window of the opposite building.

  "Never mind," she replies. "I shouldn't be an ungrateful bitch. You should definitely think about staying out there, though. Don't feel like anything's trying to drag you back here. Well, there's Mum, but you should just ignore anything she says."

  "Sure," I reply. "I mean, I haven't really thought about whether I want to stay or not, but things seem to be going okay so far. I like the work, and I'm starting to get to know people, plus the money's okay. It's a hell of a lot better being out here than it was when I was at home. You should definitely come and visit, though. I can show you around the place."

  "That sounds good," she replies, "but I'd rather wait a few months, just to make sure that Dad's cancer has completely gone. You know what he's like. He really doesn't talk about things much, and I think he was in a bit of pain last night. I asked him, but he blew up at me and stormed off to bed." She pauses for a moment. "I think he's scared. He knows it could happen at any moment, and he also knows it'd probably be..."

  Her voice trails off.

  "Yeah," I say absent-mindedly. "Whenever you want, there- "

  Before I can finish, I spot a vague shape in the woman's apartment, like a kind of floating shadow. I grab the camera, but in the process I drop my phone; by the time I've leaned down to pick it up, the male figure has reappeared in the woman's apartment, standing just behind her, the same as before.

  "Are you still there?" Kate asks.

  "I'll call you back," I reply, before cutting the line dead.

  I stare for a moment, barely able to believe what I'm seeing.

  My heart is racing as I raise the camera and take a photo. Once I've got a few wide shots, I zoom in, and this time I'm able to get a much better view of the figure's face. It's definitely a man, and while his skin is pale, there are various bruises all around one side of his face. His clothes are torn, as if he's been in some kind of accident, and he's staring intently at the back of the woman's head, as if she's the only thing he cares about. I keep the camera trained on him and take a few more shots, determined to make sure that this time I've got evidence. Zooming out a little, I frame another shot, this time showing the woman at her desk with the man standing behind her. I'm convinced that this time I'm going to be able to persuade her, but I keep taking more photos, just in case. Finally, I reach the end of the roll of film and I lower the camera.

  "Got you," I whisper.

  It takes me a few minutes to get the roll out of the camera, especially since I'm having to be careful not to cause any damage. My fingers fumble with the container, but finally I drop it into my pocket before heading over to the door. I know that this is probably the craziest thing I've ever done, but I'm far too wired to sleep, and I feel as if I have to get answers right now.

  It takes me almost an hour to get to the center of the city, but it's almost midnight and I figure this is the only place where I can get the film developed so late. I hurry through the streets before finally finding the twenty-four-hour photo shop I've passed so many times before.

  "How long?" I ask, placing the roll of film on the counter.

  "One day," he replies, grabbing a clipboard. He seems distracted by something on his laptop.

  "I need it now," I say firmly.

  "It'll cost a lot more," he points out, still not bothering to look at me.

  "I don't care," I tell him, fumbling for my wallet and pulling out my credit card. "I'll pay whatever it takes, but you have to develop it right now."

  "Okay," he replies, grabbing the roll and placing it on his desk before sliding the payment device toward me. Finally we make eye contact, although it's clear that I'm annoying him. "You have to pay upfront, though. We won't start processing until you pay."

  "And you'll be careful with it, right?" I continue as I slide my card into the device and enter my code. I don't even bother to check how much I'm paying; all I care about right now is that I get the images off that roll of film as fast as possible.

  "We're always careful," he says as my payment is processed.

  "But be really careful," I reply. "The film in that camera is really important."

  "We're always careful," he says again, seemingly a little annoyed.

  "I'll wait," I tell him, taking my card and then heading over to the seats on the other side of the small office area.

  "You want to sit there and wait?" he asks. "It'll be an hour. Why don't you -"

  "I'm going to wait," I say firmly. "Can you please just get on with it? I'm in a hurry."

  Shrugging, he goes through to the back of the shop. He's probably telling his colleagues that some crazy western girl has come running in, paying way over the odds to get her film developed as fast as possible. Still, I don't care if they think I'm out of my mind; all that matters right now is that I get those photos back, because I'm convinced that they'll show the image of the man. Once I can prove what I saw, I can start making people listen to me, and at least I'll know I'm not losing my mind.

  I check my watch and see that it's only been about ninety seconds since I sat down. I don't know how the hell I'm going to manage to sit here for an hour, but I've got no choice. I swear to God, I'm not losing my mind. This is really happening.

  Chapter Six

  Ellen

  "Go away!" the woman shouts from the other side of the door. "What do you want? Leave me alone!"

  "I have something to show you," I tell her, clutching the folder of photos in my trembling hands. "Please, can you just open the door?"

  It's 9am, and although I got the photos back several hours ago, I decided to wait until morning before coming to show them to the woman. I haven't slept all night, but I figured she'd never open the door if I started banging while she was asleep, so I stayed at my desk and watched her darkened window until sunrise came, and then finally I saw her emerge from her bedroom. There was no sign of the male figure in the apartment while she was making breakfast, but that doesn't matter right now; I've got all the proof I need.

  "If you don't stop bothering me," she says firmly, "I'll call security. I'll get you kicked out of your apartment!"

  "This will only take two minutes," I tell her. "Please, do you really think I'd start randomly knocking on some stranger's door if it wasn't important?"

  Silence.

  "Give me two minutes," I continue, "and then I'll leave you alone forever. If that's what you want, I'll go and you won't have to worry about ever bumping into me again. This is really important, though. It's about your safety. I'm worried about something, and I want to show you. Can't you spare two minutes?"

  Silence.

  And then the sound of the bolt being slid aside.

  Seconds later, she opens the door and peers out at me. She's a little shorter than I imagined, and while she looked from a distance to be in her thirties, up-close it's clear that she's closer to her late forties or even early fifties. She has a tanned, lined face and eyes that stare at me with suspicion. It's hard to believe that she's so opposed to talking to me, and I can't help but feel that she doesn't get out much. After all, I can't remember the last time she wasn't sitting at her desk during the day or evening.

  "What do you want?" she snaps. "I'm working."

  "I've got some photos," I tell her. "I took them from my apartment. I saw something through your window."

  "You were spying on me?"

  "I noticed something," I continue, realizing that this conversation has already got off to a very bad start. "I wouldn't have bothered you, but I think you should see. Can I come in?"

  "I don't even know who you are," she replies. "Why should I invite you into my home?"r />
  "Because it's important," I tell her.

  She stares at me, and I might be wrong but I swear that she doesn't seem wholly surprised. After a moment, she pulls the door all the way open and steps aside, and it's clear that she's willing to let me to enter, even though she looks irritated by my presence.

  "I'm really sorry to disturb you," I continue as I make my way into the room. It's a bright day outside, and sunlight is streaming through the window. The place is tidier than it looks from my window, and I can't help noticing that she has a whole load of books about the art of writing; I guess that must be what she does in here all day. Turning, I watch as she pushes the door shut and heads over to her desk. "There's something in these photos that I want to show you," I tell her. "I'm aware that this might be something that upsets you, but I'm worried about what's happening, and I think you need to know."

  "Okay," she replies, turning to me with a skeptical look on her face. "Show me, but make it quick. I've got a deadline."

  I open the folder and pull out the photos. Staring down at the first one, I see the mysterious figure's image. Tom was right; digital cameras apparently can't capture the image of a ghost, but a film camera didn't have any problems.

  "Have you been spying on me?" the woman asks.

  "Kind of," I reply, shuffling through the photos until I find one that shows a wide shot of the window, with the figure standing behind the woman. After a brief pause, I hand it to her. "Did you know there was a man in your apartment last night? Not just last night, but on several nights? He just stands there and watches you, and you don't even seem to notice him at all."

  She stares at the photo.

  "I have more," I tell her, holding out an image that shows a closer view of the figure's face. "I took these at about 2am this morning, but it took a while to get them developed. I had to use a film camera, because digital couldn't record the figure, but you can see right there..." I watch as she takes the next photo, and it's clear from the look on her face that she's horrified. "You had no idea he was there, did you?" I ask. "I could tell from the way you never acknowledged him. Once or twice, it was almost like you were about to walk right through him, but he just stood there and kept watching you."

  She stands in silence for a moment, transfixed by the two photos I've given her. I can't imagine what's going through her mind right now, and in a way I feel as if I should make an excuse and leave her alone; then again, she must have questions, and I want to know if she has any idea why this is happening to her.

  "Show me the rest," she says suddenly, looking at me with tears in her eyes.

  I pass her the small pile of photos and she goes through them one by one, as if she somehow expects to find one that disproves the rest. I guess it must be hard for her to see that there was some kind of figure in her apartment, and after a moment she turns and looks over toward her desk. It's as if she expects the figure to suddenly appear, but of course there's nothing to see.

  "Is it here now?" she asks, her voice filled with a kind of restrained terror.

  "I don't see anything," I reply.

  "But he's always here?" she continues, turning to me. "You could see him all the time?"

  "No," I tell her, "just occasionally. I first noticed a couple of nights ago, when I came over to try to tell you. Before that, I don't know. I used to see you occasionally, but I never noticed the figure. Maybe he just started appearing, or maybe I just happened not to look at the right times. Either way..." I pause as I realize that I'm not sure what to say next. "I'm sorry to have to tell you all this," I continue eventually, "but I didn't know what else to do. I had to warn you in case..."

  My voice trails off.

  "In case what?" she asks.

  "In case you were in danger," I tell her. "I mean... whatever that thing is, I don't know what it wants."

  "It hasn't hurt me," she says after a moment.

  "No, but -"

  "And it won't hurt me," she adds, fixing me with a fearful stare before using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her eyes. "Of course it won't. It could have hurt me by now, if that was what it wanted."

  "But you can't know that for sure," I point out.

  "I want you to leave," she says firmly. "This isn't up for discussion."

  "But if you -"

  "I want you to leave," she says again, with real anger in her voice this time. "You've done what you needed to do, so now I want you to go away and just leave me alone. If you refuse, I will call security and have you escorted out of this building. You've done what you came here to do, now go."

  "But -"

  "Go!" she says, this time almost shouting.

  Shocked by this new tone in her voice, I turn and head to the door. Once I'm out in the corridor, I look back at her. I feel as if I have a million unanswered questions, and somehow I get the feeling that if I don't ask right now, I'll never know the truth. I guess it was naive of me to think that she'd be grateful to me for bringing the photos over and letting her know what's happening; instead, she seems scared and angry, but I still get the feeling that she's not entirely surprised. It's almost as if she expected something like this.

  "Do you recognize him?" I ask after a moment. "I mean, the figure in the photos, the guy who's... Have you ever seen him before?"

  She stares at me for a moment, before coming over and pushing the door shut, leaving me standing in the under-lit corridor. I take a deep breath, and for a few seconds I consider knocking on her door again and trying to get her to talk to me. Finally, however, I realize that I've done all I can. Making my way back downstairs, I head to my own building, and a few minutes later I'm back in my apartment. When I go over to the window, I look out and see that the woman has closed her blinds, preventing me from seeing into her place.

  I wish I could have done more for her, but it's clear that she doesn't want help. I just hope that, behind those blinds, she's okay.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellen

  "Can we not argue about this now?" I ask as I wedge the phone between my chin and shoulder. Holding the dress up, I stare at myself in the mirror and try to decide if this is the one I should wear out tonight.

  "Then when do you want to talk about it?" Kate asks.

  "I'm sorry Dad didn't like his birthday presents," I tell her, "but I'm thousands of miles away and there's really nothing I can do about it! I know it sucks, but maybe you should just try not taking the whole thing too seriously. You know he's impossible to please, so it's not as if this is some huge disaster. Give it a day or two and he'll have forgotten."

  "It's not that he didn't like them," she replies wearily, "it's that he openly mocked them. I'm used to him not liking the things we give him, but this time he was making fun of them and being sarcastic. He said it was clear that none of us really know him well enough to get him something he'd actually like, and then he said there was no point getting him anything next year, or for Christmas. Do you realize what that was? It was a huge challenge. He's expecting us to pull out the big guns next time, and I don't know if I'll be able to come up with anything."

  "Jesus," I mutter, holding up a different dress. "I don't know how you cope with him."

  "That's the point," she continues, "I don't think I can cope anymore." She pauses. "I haven't mentioned it to Luke yet, but I think we have to move out."

  "And leave Dad on his own?" I ask, checking another dress.

  "It's not my responsibility!" she hisses, clearly annoyed. "It's fine for you and John to go off and live your own lives, but I want to get out of here too! I refuse to be emotionally blackmailed into spending the rest of my life looking after our father! It's someone else's turn! Anyway, he's not sick at the moment. This is one of those rare windows of opportunity when I think Luke and I could make a break for freedom. If Luke wants to come, at least. Sometimes I think he'd rather just stay here with Dad."

  "Dad'll be fine," I reply, glancing at the clock and seeing that it's almost 6pm. "Kate, I have to go. I need to get ready to go ou
t and meet some friends."

  "Great," she replies with a hint of bitterness. "Do you know what I'm going to be doing today? Dealing with Dad's anger and trying to get Luke to agree to the idea of us moving. He's happy here, but I swear to God, if I have to spend much longer in this house, I'll..."

  I wait for her to finish.

  "What?" I ask eventually. "What will you do? Go mental?"

  "Fine," she mutters. "Joke about it if you want. That's all anyone ever does these days; they just joke about everything and act like nothing matters. I can't even remember the last time I had a serious conversation. Anyway, have fun with you friends. I hope I didn't bring your mood down too much. Just ignore me; I'm a rambling bitch."

  Before I can reply, she cuts the call off. After putting the phone on my desk, I take one last look at the second dress and decide that, yes, this is the one I'm going to wear tonight. Not too revealing, but not exactly something a retired schoolteacher would wear either.

  Glancing over at the window, I see that it's dark outside. The window of the opposite apartment still has its blinds closed, so I guess the woman's worried about me watching her and taking more photos. The truth is, if I had the chance, I probably would keep watching. I want to know how she's living now that she knows there's an intruder in her home, and it feels strange to think that although I helped her discover the nature of the mystery, I'm to be shut out of any attempt to solve it. Still, I guess it's her choice, and I probably shouldn't be around ghosts anyway.

  Grabbing Tom's camera from the desk, I head out.

  Chapter Eight

  Ellen

  "Are you sure you don't want me to come up?" Tom asks as we make our way along the footpath that leads to my building. He has the camera around his neck and ever since he insisted on walking me home, it's been clear that he's got something on his mind. "We could watch more movies. Seriously, I have a limitless knowledge of the best Asian horror movies of all time."