Chasing Ghosts

by Dean Cole

  He blew softly, the sound someone makes when they understand how significant something is, and, unintentionally, blew out the flame at the same time. ‘That’s rough.’

  ‘I’m getting closer to finally coming to terms with it, though.’ At least I hoped I was.

  ‘Well, at least now you know that I did lose someone. Not to death, but when they’re out of your life they’re as good as dead.’

  A cheerful laugh out in the hallway jarred with this sombre sentiment. Both Will and I glanced at the open door. The exit looked attractive suddenly. I’d pondered death enough for one afternoon.

  I rose from the sofa and picked up the crumb laden plate off the side table. ‘I should take this back to the dining hall.’ Glancing the time on a wall clock, I added, ‘I should probably take some photographs, too. Won’t be long before the second ghost hunt starts.’

  Will said nothing as I walked to the door. I paused when I reached it and turned.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For trusting me enough to share.’

  I didn’t tell him why I felt the need to thank him, that I sensed trust wasn’t something he found easy. I didn’t need to. There’s a tacit feeling you get with certain people where those sorts of things don’t have to be said. And that feeling was in the room at that moment.

  - CHAPTER EIGHT -

  The Seance

  GHOSTS MIGHT HAVE attracted me to Hilderley Manor, but I’m not sure I’d have felt so brave coming here had I known we’d be calling them forth using the Ouija board. The name alone put my nerves on edge. I’d heard enough tales in my youth about the dangers of dabbling in the occult, about opening doorways for negative energies to escape and cause problems for those intrepid enough to venture. Then there was my own experiment, age eleven, with Melissa Dandridge in the derelict building behind the cinema. My memory of the event is mostly a blur — and perhaps for good reason — but I do remember that we saw a black shape hovering in a doorway that had us scarpering out of there like two startled ferrets. Poor Melissa was never quite the same again. In fact, last I heard she’d become an anxiety ridden recluse — and was it any wonder? Why then was I agreeing to take part in a seance using the blessed thing?

  ‘It’s completely safe as long as we follow the rules,’ Carrie assured us as we filed into the dining hall like lambs being led to slaughter. ‘For legal reasons, Giles and Annie will be the only ones touching the board. All we ask of you guys is that you focus on the questions being asked, try to visualise them while putting all other thoughts from your mind, and that you remain serious about the experience throughout, respecting the team and the board itself.’

  Convincing as this sounded, it was obvious no one believed a word of it. Especially Kat. She looked like she was on her way to get a tooth pulled as she shuffled beside me, eyes flitting nervously, her notebook pressed against her chest like a protective crucifix. I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Just think of the article. The journalist in the war zone, remember?’ A flash of doubt from those baby blues was the only response I got in return.

  The backdrop for the evening’s event couldn’t have been more appropriate for its subject matter. Lightning flashed through the bay window, heavy rain pelted the glass, and the building itself seemed to creak like a ship in unsteady waters. The dining hall’s panelled walls and dark wood furniture created an abundance of shadows for ghostly entities to conceal themselves should they wish. Even the hunters themselves gave off a sense of foreboding, their solemn faces suggesting we were about to summon an entire graveyard back from the dead.

  Giles and Annie awaited us at a colossal round table, sitting across from each other, the famous board sitting between them on the table’s surface. Flickering tealights highlighted the contours of their faces. They weren’t the only ones waiting in the darkness. Norman was perched atop a small, round table some feet behind Giles, stroking his beard and thumbing the screen on his camcorder; it looked like we were going to be documentary stars for the second night in a row. Esther was sitting in a tall-backed chair at the helm of the table. The makeup and accessories had returned, and her hair was a nimbus once more. But unlike the solemn bearing of her companions, she was displaying an airy unconcern for whatever lay ahead, humming and filing her nails casually, more like a woman settling down for an evening in front of the TV not overseeing a seance.

  As we approached the table, her eyes crept upwards and landed on my neck. The amethyst necklace was tucked away, but you could still see the string peeking through the neck of my jumper. She winked, a mutual understanding. And suddenly the events ahead felt less daunting.

  ‘Evening, folks,’ said Giles, the candlelight flickering in his thick-rimmed glasses. ‘Everybody gather round and grab yourself a seat.’

  A chorus of squeaking wood followed as we spread around the table, pulling out chairs. Ash couldn’t stop gaping at the Ouija board, clearly excited, but still clutching Matt’s biceps for protection as the couple claimed the two chairs next to Annie. Cottonball looked enthusiastic too, dressed for the occasion in a miniature tuxedo, though in fairness that permanent smile would have made him look happy to be wherever his mummy decided to take him. Kat and Carrie chose the seats adjacent to Miles, leaving me and Will to naturally gravitate into a pair. We took the bottom of the table, facing Esther.

  With everyone seated, Carrie began explaining the rules of the board. Giles and Annie demonstrated using the tips of their index fingers to push a thing called a planchette — a heart shaped piece of wood with a circular hole near the point — around the Ouija board. If a spirit wanted to communicate with us it would use the couple’s energy to move the planchette, guiding their fingers to letters, numbers and the words yes and no which were printed on the board. We would be required to place our hands on the table, touching the hand of the person sitting next to us to form a chain of energy around the board.

  ‘Esther’s going to be raising her frequency through an intense meditation,’ said Carrie. ‘It should increase the chance for energy to find its way through to us. We’re holding the seance in the dining hall because it has a reputation for being especially active. A staff member claims they’ve been touched numerous times while doing the cleaning in here. Apparitions that appear to be dancing in the spaces between the tables have also been reported. That would make sense since the room was a small ballroom at one point.’

  ‘A ghost that likes to feel people up,’ said Will, grinning immaturely as he pulled out his tape recorder and set it on the table. He pressed record. ‘Make sure you cross your legs if you’re wearing a skirt, ladies.’

  Esther shot him an austere look from across the table that quickly wiped the juvenile smirk off his face.

  I might have grinned, but my attention was on the board, running over Carrie’s instructions in my head. Focus on the questions being asked. Visualise them. Clear all other thoughts from your mind. I touched the amethyst necklace beneath my jumper and thought of Elliot. Esther had said that if he was still around it meant he probably had a message for me. If I focused hard enough might it help him use the spirit board to come through and give it to me?

  ‘OK, let’s begin,’ said Giles.

  He and Annie placed their index fingers on the planchette and everyone else joined hands. Norman appeared from the shadows with his camcorder trained on the board from behind Giles’ shoulder, the blinking red light indicating the next chapter of his documentary had begun. Everyone braced to see what would happen next.

  ‘If there are any spirits here, please come towards my voice,’ Giles said aloud.

  In the quiet that ensued you could hear the wind and rain howling beyond the window. More lightning flashed, casting trickling shadows on the panelled walls. A floorboard creaked above and everyone’s eyes shot up to the ceiling.

  ‘We’re inviting you to come and speak to us, to move this planchette,’ Annie intoned. ‘Could you do that? Could you use our energy to mo
ve the planchette?’

  Any doubts among the guests that anything was going to happen were abruptly disproved when the planchette suddenly shot across the board, taking Giles and Annie’s fingers, and the last of my nerves, with it. Bodies recoiled from the table amid a chorus of gasps, yet the ghost hunters looked disturbingly thrilled.

  ‘That’s excellent, thank you,’ said Annie calmly. ‘Could you move the planchette to either yes or no, or any number and letter on the board in response to our questions?’ She gave Giles an instructive nod.

  ‘Are you a male?’ said Giles.

  Are you a male? I thought. And thought.

  Another creak upstairs. The flames of the candles flickered as if a breeze had swept into the room. There was a crash of thunder in the distance. And the planchette moved again. Straight to the word yes.

  Out of nowhere there came a loud gasp, similar to the sound of someone bursting through the surface of water for a life-saving intake of breath. Esther was clasping the chest of her pink and black zebra-print blouse, as if she’d just had a sudden fright. Everyone stared at her, faces etched with concern.

  ‘He’s here,’ she whispered.

  Ash’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Who’s here?’

  Matt peered over his shoulder to see if anyone was lurking there. Kat, already on the paler side of the complexion scale to begin with, became so ashen she could have been mistaken for a ghost herself. Will, however, looked as unconcerned as if Esther had just announced she was off to visit the lavatory.

  ‘Such a tormented soul, so angry,’ Esther said in a pained voice. ‘It’s a strong energy, too. He has been trying to make contact for some time. There is momentum in the energy of his struggle.’

  My heart began to race at an ungodly rate. It had to be him. Let it be Elliot, I thought. Please let it be Elliot.

  ‘Quick, ask him something else while the connection is still strong,’ Carrie urged Annie. She had a pen and paper at the ready to record the response.

  ‘How did you die?’ Annie called out, her voice echoey in the large room.

  Everyone fixed their eyes on the board, awaiting the response. But movement came from somewhere else. Above us. The group looked up in unison at the same moment feet ran across the ceiling. And not the light footfall of a child. They were the footsteps of an adult, heavy and fast. The chandelier swayed on its hanging, the decorative crystals rattling like hailstones. For a nervous second I pictured the thing unscrewing itself from its fitting and landing on one of our heads. Then came another noise. One of the double doors to the room, left ajar up until that point, slammed shut.

  Ash screamed, burying her head in her boyfriend’s chest. Cottonball barked protectively, but the tiny yap wouldn’t have scared off a kitten let alone whatever force had slammed the door. Esther was right. Whatever it was, it was angry. Kat, who had made no indication up until this point that she was a religious woman, blessed herself with the sign of the cross. I felt my pulse quicken as my heart began to race. The air in the room felt electric suddenly. Eager to exploit the poltergeist activity while it was at its strongest, the ghost hunters pressed on.

  ‘How did you die!?’ Annie shouted, more determination in her voice now.

  It took a few seconds, but then the planchette began to move in response, spelling out a word:

  M

  The planchette shot to another letter.

  U

  Giles and Annie’s arms were pulled with impressive force.

  D

  Thunder reverberated in the distance.

  R

  It was a miracle the planchette didn’t give off sparks, it was moving so fast.

  G

  Carrie scribbled down the letters as fast as she could.

  U

  Ash gripped Matt’s hand and squeezed it hard.

  N

  Kat looked like a statue, frozen with fear.

  N

  Giles and Annie’s arms became still.

  Carrie stopped scribbling and pushed the piece of paper into the middle of the table. In the candlelight, everyone leaned closer to read the word she had written on it.

  ‘MUDRGUNN?’ Matt read aloud. It sounded like he said muddergun. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Another language maybe?’ Norman suggested from over Giles’ shoulder.

  Giles was shaking his head. ‘No language is as indecipherable as that.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Annie. ‘We mustn’t have been focused enough. Or the connection was too weak.’

  I couldn’t care less what the odd word meant. I was too disappointed that whatever had just communicated with us wasn’t Elliot. I glanced across the table for a sign of hope from Esther, but the psychic had her hand still pressed against her bosom, eyes closed, face creased like she was in anguished prayer.

  ‘Maybe his spelling is a little rusty?’ offered Ash sincerely. ‘You know, with him being out of practise for so long.’

  ‘Ask it it’s name,’ prompted Matt. His umber eyes, glinting in the candlelight, were intense now. A boldness had possessed the muscular Greek, but his chest, rising and falling anxiously beneath his shirt, betrayed the apparent bravery.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Giles called out.

  Once again, we stared at the board, waiting. And once again the planchette started to move:

  M

  It squeaked across the board.

  O

  A flash of lightning lit the alphabet electric blue.

  U

  You could hear Carrie scribbling as she wrote down the letters once again.

  S

  More thunder rumbled beyond the window, but farther away this time, weaker.

  E

  The planchette, along with Giles and Annie’s hands, came to a stop.

  Carrie slid the piece of paper into the middle of the table, frowning. ‘MOUSE?’

  Ash drew in an abrupt breath, making Cottonball yap and the rest of us jump. ‘Oh my God, a mouse ghost. How cute!’

  There was a violent clatter as the Ouija board suddenly flew off the table, taking the planchette and half a dozen tealights with it. Everyone jumped back from the table, letting out shrieks and gasps. The board had hit Giles in the chest, folded and then landed on his lap. But worse, he was now staring at his groin with a look of terror. One of the tealights, still alight with flame, was about to burn through his trousers and scorch his nethers. He swiped the tealight away, patting at the area to extinguish any remaining flames.

  ‘There’s nothing cute about that,’ said Matt, his eyes darting around the darkness expecting further attack.

  ‘I think we should bring this to an end,’ said Giles, his face flushed, sweat breaking out near his temples. The ordinarily self-possessed leader of Pluckley Ghost Hunters was perturbed. Had we experienced activity even he had never witnessed?

  ‘No!’ cried Esther imploringly. ‘We must make sure the spirit is at rest first. We can’t leave it this angry!’

  ‘No way,’ said Giles. ‘I’m running a responsible company here, Esther. The safety of the guests comes first. I won’t put anyone at risk of getting hurt.’

  ‘Flaming heck, Giles. After what we’ve just seen?’ Norman had stepped out of the shadows, the camcorder lowered to his large belly. ‘I don’t fancy going to sleep tonight with that thing crashing about the place.’

  ‘Nope,’ said Giles firmly.

  Norman shook his head. Esther didn’t argue as Giles brushed off his knees and checked the Ouija board for signs of damage. However, I noticed worryingly, the look on her face said she believed Giles’ decision would not bode well for all concerned.

  The sound of chairs scraping the parquet flooring followed, everyone getting out of their seats. The guests departed the table while the ghost hunters remained to pack up their equipment. Kat dashed up behind me and Will. She grabbed my arm and I spun around, halting to a stop.

  ‘Tell me I did not just see that,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, you saw it,’ said Will.

&nb
sp; ‘This place is cursed.’

  Will gave her what could have, under the wrong circumstances, be perceived as a derisive snort. ‘Sounding a bit gullible, aren’t you, love?’

  Kat’s hand went to her hip faster than she’d legged it out of the first ghost hunt and her mouth became wider than a blow-up doll’s. ‘Excuse me, but I’ll have you know that I was the victim of a very traumatising prank that has left me with a delicate disposition to this day.’

  Will sniggered as he pulled a lighter and cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘Delicate? Right.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Will returned a challenging but playful wink. ‘I’m a writer. We’re obnoxious bastards by nature. What’s your excuse?’

  Kat, not expecting this retort, looked at me for support. But, feeling very nauseous suddenly, I was too preoccupied with eyeing up the exit, considering a quick getaway to the nearest bathroom.

  A hand went to Kat’s other hip and she adopted a combative tone. ‘So you’re saying it was a stunt?’

  Will gave a perfunctory shrug. ‘I’ve seen more elaborate tricks pulled off by less skilled groups.’

  ‘The ghost was running across the ceiling!’

  ‘Someone was running across the ceiling. Never underestimate the power of illusion. There are other guests staying in this place. Who’s to say they’re not plants?’

  Kat looked over her shoulder at the ghost hunters, thoughtful as she considered this.

  ‘Think outside the box. And never take anything for granted in this game,’ said Will sagely, before pinching a cigarette between his lips and sauntering away.

  ‘Smart arse,’ said Kat, watching him go. But I sensed more admiration than animosity behind her words.

  ‘Do you think Esther’s OK?’ I said, spotting the psychic looking uncharacteristically troubled as she gathered her belongings. ‘She didn’t look well back there.’

  ‘Serves her right for helping to bring the cursed thing through,’ said Kat, her feathers ruffled. ‘And I need a drink.’