Just one more step and she could see into the dimly lit hallway. It was empty. The corners shrouded in shadows played to her imagination but she knew there was no one there. Somehow, she felt it.
To her left was the staircase. It was just out of her vision and she did not want to turn. Maybe if she didn't look then she would stay safe? And yet she knew she had to look. She had come this far, was looking for answers, how foolish would it be if she went back to her room without them? One thing was for sure, she wasn't sleeping until she knew what the noise was.
Slowly she turned towards the stairs. As she did a jumble of notes rang out almost simultaneously. There was nothing musical about them. In her mind she imagined someone angrily slamming their hands down on the keys.
With her heart in her throat she tried to swallow, tried to breathe and yet neither seemed possible. With knees too weak to run she wavered on the spot and waited. The silence filled the room and engulfed her. It seemed to wrap around her like a cold shroud and sucked the courage from her very bones. Yet, she could not do nothing! It was time to act or time to run. Swallowing once more she took control.
“Is anyone there?” she shouted at the stairwell.
The words echoed slightly, mocking her as they then disappeared into the dark emptiness.
The light from the hallway only lit up the first ten stairs. The rest were merely dark shapes and shadow. What could be lurking amongst them? What would be hiding, waiting…?
Slowly she approached the stairs. There was a crimson rope across them. It reminded her of the one they used at the theatre. The one to keep the crowds out. What did this one prevent from entering?
Shaking her head she took another step. Just past the rope on the wall was a light switch. If she got to that she could light up the stairwell. What would she do then? Just look… Would she have to break the rules and search upstairs? Surely that wouldn't matter. It was off-limits, surely they meant just to live, just to make things easier, unless of course there were secrets up there that they didn't want her to find!
Rosie knew she was letting her imagination run away with her and yet she could not seem to haul it back in. Images of beasts, ghouls, and monsters flashed across her mind and yet none of them were as scary as the one thing she was really frightened of... Clive.
The seconds were ticking by and there had been no more sound. Could it be something as simple as a draft?
“Is anybody there?” This time her voice was pleading and showed her fear.
As if in answer to her question a loud bang was followed by a discordant peal as if all of the piano's keys vibrated at once. The noises strummed across her chest bone and filled the house with cacophony before slowly fading away to nothing.
Rose's breath was held, her eyes wide, her mouth open, and her throat was suddenly bone dry. Every nerve in her body wanted to move, wanted to turn and run and yet, she did not know in which direction. Should she flee from the house and race back to the road? It had taken twenty minutes in a taxi from the nearest residents. How far could she walk, how far would she get if somebody wanted to catch her? The only other place was back to her room. She could wedge chairs beneath both doors and hide out until morning. That had to be her best option and yet still her legs would not move.
All she could do was stare at the darkness that hid the stairs. Then she saw something moving. Just a shadow, just a glimmer in the darkness and it was coming closer. Though still afraid she found herself walking forward. Before she knew it, she was standing at the bottom of the stairs and the darkness was getting closer. The hair rose on her arms and prickles ran down her back. Breath held, heart pounding, she waited.
Out of the darkness sauntered a sleek black cat and Rosie let out a laugh of pure relief.
How could she have been so stupid?
All this time she had tortured herself when there was a simple explanation. Though the Duncan’s hadn't told her they had a cat. Maybe it slipped their mind. Maybe it was Matron’s and she wasn't supposed to keep it. Or maybe it was just a visitor from time to time.
Orange eyes stared up at her and it let out a mournful meow.
Reaching down, she picked it up and hugged it close. It would be good to have some company.
“Okay Kittie, let’s see if we can find you some food.”
The warm body in her arms seemed to chase away the darkness. Carrying the cat, she walked back to the kitchen where she was sure she had seen some cans of tuna. It seemed strange that she suddenly craved the company of the beast when before all she wanted was solitude.
Chapter 5
The house felt peaceful and relaxing again. As she watched, the cat picked at the fish with such precision and dexterity. Making the simple canned meal look like a gourmet feast. Occasionally it would glance around at her. The orange eyes holding her in their gaze and she could not decide if there was gratitude or disdain reflected in them. Finishing the fish, the cat turned to a bowl of water she had placed next to it. It delicately lapped at the silvered liquid before sitting in front of the bowl. Then it began to clean its paws and whiskers.
As it worked, Rosie sipped at a glass of wine; she had found a bottle in the pantry. It was rich and fruity and a little stronger than she was used to. Already she was beginning to feel more relaxed, almost floaty, and she knew it was time to go back to bed.
“Well, Kitty, are you coming with me?”
The black cat stood at the sound of her voice and followed as she left the room. It made her feel good somehow. It was comforting in a way that she couldn’t explain. Once they were back in the room, Rosie closed the door but did not put a chair beneath it as she had earlier. After all, the noise had just been the cat.
She settled down beneath the covers and was pleased when the animal jumped up beside her. It stepped across her and curled up in the crook of her knees. Through the covers, she could feel its small, warm body moving as it breathed.
The room was not completely dark. Despite finding the cause of the scare she did not feel comfortable without light and so she had left a small lamp on in the corner. It was comforting, a warm light unlike the modern spots that everyone seemed to favor. Maybe it was just because she enjoyed historical romance that this light seemed so much more real.
Snuggling beneath the covers, she began to think about her plot. It was a habit she had and could make it hard to sleep. Only tonight, her mind kept thinking about the house. There had to be so much history and she wanted to find out all about it. Maybe tomorrow she would have a look around. She could explore the grounds and who knows maybe she would even sneak upstairs and see what rooms were there. She could spend some time in the library. There had to be some documented history in the books held there.
Despite her excitement and intrigue about the property, she was starting to fall asleep. Though she fought against it, it was no use and soon she was drifting in that land just between sleep and wakefulness.
Voices intruded on her slumber. Somewhere close a man and woman whispered. This was not unusual for her. Sometimes as she fell asleep she would get into the minds of her characters. She would fall into a dream where she lived in their lives. If she was lucky, she would remember it in the morning and could use it in her work. However, most of the time it was just a fleeting memory when she woke.
The whispering was stronger now and closer and there was an urgency behind it that made her want to wake. Yet, sleep gripped her tightly, holding her down in its sweaty palms.
The whispers came closer and she could almost make out the individual words. It didn't sound like English but more like Latin and in the background she could hear someone chanting. Fighting against the lethargy of exhaustion she pried her eyelids open.
Standing before her was a man and woman. Perhaps her hero and heroine? They were wearing hooded cloaks. She imagined they had just arrived at the Manor House after a long carriage journey. The light was behind them and their faces were deep in the shadows.
This is a dream, she smiled... it h
as to be!
They do not return the smile. Instead they looked at each other and whispered once more. The words ran together and sent a chill down her spine.
“Invocatio veni nobis.”
Though she knows this was a dream, must be a dream she could feel her fear building. A cold sweat broke out on her back. It was as if a force was holding her on the bed. Pushing her down and making it hard to breathe.
“Invocatio veni nobis,” they said again and leaned closer toward her.
It was as if they were studying her, deciding if she was worthy.
Once more they looked at each other and this time they nodded.
Excitement and fear controlled her in equal measures. She knew she must move but she could not. She must see the dream through, it could be important.
They pushed back the hoods of their cloaks and she could see... black holes... there were black holes where there should be eyes.
A scream ripped her from sleep and she jerked in the bed kicking the cat across the covers.
Sitting up she clutched the comforter to her chest, breathing heavily and searching the room. It was empty, except for the cat who glared at her for disturbing his sleep.
Letting out a sigh, she realized that it was a dream after all. It felt so real, sweat was drying on her back and she was still shaking. As she looked around the room, a scent drifted across to her. One that curdled her stomach. It was Montblanc Legend... Clive's aftershave.
For a moment or two she let the tears come. Was this all just a symptom of her tortured psyche? Just a way for the stress to release? According to her therapist that was a good thing. Right then she wanted to ring the woman up and let her have a piece of her mind. If this was good then she would hate to see bad!
Instead, she lay back on the bed and tried to calm her breathing. It was time to relax. Reaching over she picked up her pill container and took out a sleeping tablet. It was late. Glancing at her watch she could see it was almost 2 in the morning. She was exhausted and yet too wired and afraid to sleep. Popping a pill, she swallowed it quickly, before she could change her mind.
Usually she didn't dream with the tablets. Maybe they would leave her a little tired and drugged in the morning... but that was better than another session with the creepy emptied eyed couple.
Lying back on the bed, she felt the cat jump up. This time it moved to the opposite side of the bed and circled a few times before lying down staring straight at her. Orange eyes accused her of treachery, and she almost laughed.
“Some friend you are,” she managed and the cat closed its eyes and seemed to be instantly asleep.
If only!
Rosie lay there trying to think of her book and to get involved in the story. If she could do it, then her mind would relax and she would soon be tired. Yet, it was so hard. Everything had felt so real and yet it couldn’t be. Gradually the minutes turned to hours as she tossed and turned on the bed. Each time she started to drift, she saw the couple before her in the most vivid detail and she jerked back awake.
At least it appeared that her imagination was working well. Fingers crossed, she should be able to get plenty of writing done tomorrow and yet she knew that was just a wish. Being this tired she would be lucky if she could string a sentence together.
Sighing, she rolled over once more. The cat raised its ears and stared at her dolefully.
“I know,” she snapped and it simply closed its eyes and turned away from her.
Typical.
Closing her own eyes, she started to drift but then something yanked her back to the room and this time it was not the dream. There were no visions of people in hoods and no scent of aftershave. A noise had woken her and she strained her ears while holding her breath to try and make out exactly what it was.
Instantly awake her heart was pounding once more. Her pulse raced in her ears and the room seemed to buzz. It took but moments to realize that she was starting to hyperventilate and she slowed her breathing.
There it was again.
The sound of footsteps on the hard floor outside her room. No, not outside but further up the corridor. They were walking towards the kitchen.
Who was it?
Fear clawed at her throat and she started to choke. Then she realized that she had been holding her breath and she let out some air. The panic eased a little bit but still, she had to know who was in the house.
The sound of whispers could be heard all around her and coming from deep underground she could hear singing... no it was chanting... the sort you heard in horror films. It was the sound of devil worship.
For a moment she almost laughed. Her imagination must be running away with her. This had to be a dream. So she reached across and pinched her arm.
“Ouch!”
It left a red welt on the skin and looked real enough.
What should I do?
A child’s scream pierced the night. Before she could even think she was up and running. Logical thought had left her, she could not leave a child in pain or distress. Maybe it was because the sound of a child crying had haunted her childhood. Many a night she lay awake listening to screams and cries through paper thin walls. Confused and scared, she would burrow under the blankets and cover her ears. She wanted to go get help, to tell someone but the shouting and screams frightened her so much that she could not even move.
Lying beneath the blankets she would stay as still as she could until the noise died down and she could breathe once more. By morning, she had convinced herself that it was just a nightmare and so she never mentioned it.
It was only after she grew up that she discovered the neighbor was hurting his little girl. Her parents had tried to help the little neighbor girl but no one believed them in time. Even now, some nights she lay awake wondering if she could have done more. If only she had gone to help. If only she had said something. Well this time she could. Maybe this time she could save a life.
Forgetting her own fear, she was at the door in just a few steps and out into the corridor without hesitation.
The scream still rang in the air and yet she knew it must have stopped. Quickly she ran along the corridor.
As she reached the hallway, she was grabbed from the side. Ice-cold fingers dug into her wrist and pulled her to a halt. Whipped around, she turned to face the same woman. The one with the dark cloak and the empty eyes. A gaunt face surrounded those eyes. It was pale and thin to the point of being almost skeletal. Though it was hard to tell her age, she had to be old and for a moment Rosie wanted to say, Matron!
The thought left her as the woman opened her mouth and began to scream a silent scream. A rush of foul air covered her and Rosie tried to pull back choking on the scent of decay. It was like rotten pond water, full of decomposed debris and accompanied by a festering stench.
The child’s scream rang through the night once more. It was the sound of such fear and pain and she could not ignore it. Rosie fought to escape. She had to save this child. She had to, and she pulled with all her might.
The woman clung on to her wrist and Rosie felt a sharp pain. She stopped and looked down as she felt warm liquid wash over her hand.
Where the woman had hold of her was covered in red. Beneath the flood of blood she could see long black filthy claws of nails dug into her skin. They had sliced through her wrist and into her veins and her life’s blood was draining away. It gushed from her wrists and poured onto the hardwood floor. It was too fast, too much.
Pulling with all her might, Rosie fought to escape. She couldn’t remember why but she knew it was important. The nails loosened on her skin and she started to move. Elation filled her until her knees buckled. The sensation of floating was almost pleasant. A little like being drunk. Then she saw the floor coming up to meet her face.
For an instant she wondered if it would hurt. She never found out, for she was unconscious before she even hit the floor.
Chapter 6
Blood, pain, claw like fingernails, blackened and covered in blood. Her
blood. Images flashed before her eyes and she was falling. Down, down, without the chance of stopping. Her heart had plunged before her and air rushed past.
“No!”
She woke with a start. Jerking up in the bed to see bright sunlight filtering through the thick drapes. The cat was curled up on the bed. It raised its sleek black head and stared at her with those amazing orange eyes.
Pulling her own eyes away, she stared down at her wrist. Expecting to see a gash there and the remnants of dried blood. There was nothing... nothing at all.
“What the...”
It must have been a dream. Just a dream. So much for not dreaming when she took a sleeping tablet. Slowly she got out of bed. Her pajamas were soaked in sweat. It looked like it had been quite a night. Quickly, she hit the shower. Had there been a washing machine in the kitchen? She couldn’t remember but there must be, surely.
Soon she was dressed and she took her washing down to the kitchen followed by the cat. As the kettle boiled, she found the machine tucked away in the corner. It looked ancient but appeared to work.
The cat had finished his breakfast and was staring up at the door. Rosie opened it and looked out at the garden. It was lovely. Rows of salad and vegetables were surrounded by roses. Behind the garden were the outbuildings and to one side was a little table and chairs.
Making some tea and toast she stepped out into the garden. The cat was sunning himself near the table and she settled down to join him. It felt good to feel the sun on her face. This was what she needed. Once the toast was finished she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The sun warmed her skin. It felt glorious. There was no noise, no banging doors, or squealing wheels. No angry piping or shouting of kids. It was peaceful, there was nothing to disturb her. Nothing! There was no birdsong, no breeze. It was almost as if she was in a vacuum. Then she imagined the woman from her dreams. The empty eyes and black maw of a mouth. The prominent cheek bones that seemed to push against paper thin skin.
The Haunting of RedRise House: Ghosts and Haunted Houses Page 4