by Amy Cross
"Hear what?" John calls through from the kitchen.
Rich stares over at the door for a moment, convinced that he heard a faint knock. He waits, but nothing presents itself, and finally he decides that he should just keep his concerns to himself. The last thing he wants is for John to start making fun of him.
"Nothing," he mutters, turning back to the job of stripping paper from the walls.
"I need to go back to the depot," John says after a moment, taking off his gloves as he wanders through to the front room. "You gonna be okay on your own for twenty minutes?"
"I thought you said that was a bad idea," Rich replies.
"Don't be dim," John says with a smile. "I was only winding you up. I'm pretty sure you'll survive on your own for a little while. Just don't go upstairs."
"What's wrong with upstairs?"
"Nothing, just..." Sighing, John drops his gloves on the toolbox. "Let's not turn this into a big thing," he continues, evidently feeling a little weary. "I kinda bigged up the whole haunted house thing earlier. I was just having a laugh. I mean, sure, all that stuff happened, but it's in the past and the girl's locked up."
"What girl?" Rich asks.
"The one who went around killing people," John continues. "I doubt she'll be out before the next ice age. She killed pretty much everyone in her family, except her sister. None of 'em were killed in this room, though. It's upstairs you want to worry about, but we'll do that together and there won't be any problems. There's the basement too, but again, we'll just keep things nice and ordered." He checks his watch. "I need to get going," he adds, heading to the door, "but just keep on with what you're doing. And watch out for ghosts!"
Once John has left, Rich pauses for a moment, listening to the sound of the van being driven away. Having fallen for John's ghost stories earlier, he can't help feeling a little wary about being left alone in the house, but he forces himself to remember that he never used to believe in ghosts, and that this would be a bad time to start. Taking a deep breath, he carries on scraping paper away, and after a few minutes he's starting to feel as if he was worrying about nothing.
And then he hears it.
It's a faint sound at first, the kind of noise that wouldn't really register on a normal day. In his heightened sense of concern, however, Rich immediately turns and looks back across the room. He's not certain, but he thinks he heard a couple of footsteps, and they seemed to be in the room directly above. He looks up, half-expecting to hear another noise, but silence seems to have settled in the house once again. Telling himself that he was probably imagining the whole thing, he carries on scraping, but this time he's alert to the slightest hint of a noise. The last thing he wants is to panic unnecessarily, especially since in the back of his mind he's starting to wonder if John is trying to scare him.
Seconds later, he hears it again.
This time, he stops scraping. Looking back up at the ceiling, he pauses, and this time he's certain that he heard a couple of footsteps. He waits, convinced that he'll hear it again, and sure enough there's a faint bump followed by the sound of something shuffling across the floor of the room directly above. Standing completely still, Rich listens as, moments later, he hears another bump, this time coming from a different part of the ceiling. It takes a few seconds before he realizes that whatever's up there, it seems to be making its way toward the landing.
Figuring that he needs to go and take a look, Rich drops the scraper and heads through to the hallway. He looks over at the stairs, before heading to the window and double-checking that the van is gone. He heard John driving away, but he still can't shake the hope that somehow this is all part of some big trick. Once he's certain that he's alone, however, he walks over to the bottom of the stairs and pauses for a moment, listening to the silence of the house.
"Hello?" he calls out eventually.
No response.
He waits as he tries to work out when it would be too soon to try again.
"Is someone up there?" he asks.
Silence.
And then - maybe - the faintest of knocks.
"This is private property," he calls out, even though he knows he sounds like an idiot. "If someone's up there," he continues, "I need you to leave."
He waits.
Nothing.
Sighing, he realizes that he has to go up and take a look. He's never been a particularly superstitious person, and although he was a little freaked out by John's warnings, he reminds himself that he doesn't believe in ghosts. He starts making his way up the stairs, while trying to prepare himself in case someone or something appears. Although he hasn't been on the job for long, he has no doubt that there can be many legitimate reasons for hearing a noise in a supposedly empty house; there could be rats, or maybe larger animals such as badgers, and there's also the danger that vagrants might have taken up residence. All of these things could theoretically pose a danger, so he walks slowly and carefully until he gets to the top of the stairs and glances around the empty landing.
He tells himself to stay calm, but his heart is racing.
"No-one here, then?" he asks. "This is your last chance."
Moments later, he hears a bump nearby, and he turns just in time to see one of the doors slowly swinging partially open. He pauses, and no matter how hard he tries, he can no longer dismiss the possibility that someone is in the house. He takes a step forward, before realizing that he has no way of defending himself. After a moment's internal debate, he decides he should go and take a look, so he makes his way to the door and reaches out to push it all the way, revealing a mostly bare room that contains only a couple of beds.
"Huh," he mutters, once he's certain that there's no-one in the room. He wanders over to the window, just in time to spot John's van parking outside.
As John gets out and glances up at him, Rich realizes he's going to get ribbed mercilessly for being upstairs, so he hurries out of the room and runs down to the hallway just in time to find John coming in with a large box in his arms.
"I know," Rich says, heading back through to the front room and grabbing his scraper. "I shouldn't have gone up, but I thought I heard a noise so I went to look. I thought it was a rat or something."
He starts scraping, but after a moment he realizes that John hasn't answered. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees his colleague standing in the doorway with a shocked, ashen look on his face.
"Did you get what you needed?" Rich asks.
Without answering, John hurries over, grabs his arm and pulls him across the room. Despite Rich's protestations, it's not until they get out the front door and reach the van that John turns to him, and it's clear from his expression that something has shocked him to the core.
"What's wrong?" Rich asks cautiously. "You didn't see a ghost at the depot, did you?"
"When you were up there," John replies, "was there anyone in the room with you?"
Rich raises an eyebrow.
"Was there anyone in the room?" John shouts.
"No," Rich replies. "Why?" He turns and looks up at the window. "It was just a bare room," he continues. "There were a couple of beds, that's all."
"There were people standing behind you," John says, his voice filled with panic. "I saw them when I looked up at you!"
"People?" Rich asks, turning to him. "What the hell have you been drinking?"
"There were half a dozen people," John replies, opening the door and climbing into the van. "I don't give a damn. I'm getting out of here. Are you coming?"
"There was no-one there!" Rich points out as John starts the engine. "Where are you going?"
"Someone else can come and do this place," John replies. "I'm out. Are you coming or not?"
Pausing for a moment, Rich finally realizes that he doesn't have much choice. He still doesn't quite believe in ghosts, but he figures he's damn well not going to be left alone in this place. Hurrying over to the door, he pulls it shut before running back to the van and getting into the passenger seat. John immediately floors
the gas pedal and the van takes off along the driveway before its tires screech as it turns onto the main road.
Once the sound of the departing van has faded, the house stands in silence. At one of the windows, however, there's a hint of movement, and finally a couple of faces peer out. There's no-one to see them, of course, not even as they slowly fade from sight.
Two hours later, the house burst into flames. By the time a fire crew arrived, it was too late to save anything. An investigation was never able to establish exactly what happened; it was as if the entire place simply caught fire spontaneously.