The Haunting of Brynlee House: Based on a Real Haunted House

by Caroline Clark

  It was some time later when she heard a soft noise. Still asleep, she could hear a voice. It was whispering and was just too low for her to understand. Ignoring the voice, she snuggled down deeper into the covers. Only the voice would not stop. It murmured, mumbled, and hissed away in her ear. Emma was too comfortable, she did not want to hear. Did not want to wake. Something told her to stay where she was. Then she felt something cold on her ear. It was like a tongue or the whisper of lips on her soft skin.

  The voice was like a rustling, like leaves in the cemetery and she could not understand it. There was a touch on her shoulder, and suddenly the words became clear.

  “… go… goooo,” the voice said dragging out the word until it became a threat. “… tooooo long. Someone …. or the deaths will continue.”

  Emma could only make out some of the words, and she mumbled in her sleep.

  The lips moved closer, touching her ear once more and she could feel breath tickle her skin. Emma jerked awake and sat up in bed. It was dark, but she could feel something next to her. For a moment she was frozen. So afraid she could not even breathe. Yet she would not give in, she had never given into anything, and she would not start now. She reached out for the light, finding it the first time, the room was filled with the pale, sickly light that seemed to be a feature of the house. Staring at her were two glowing amber eyes filled with hatred and disdain.

  Emma let out a squeal and jumped back in the bed pulling the covers up around her chin. The cat leaped from the bed and disappeared out of the room. Emma tried to watch where it had gone, only the door was still closed, and she could not see any point of egress.

  She nudged her phone to check on the time, it was 2:30 AM. Too early to get up and yet she did not think she would sleep again. How had the cat got into the room? What was it doing on her bed? And what had she heard?

  Emma dressed quickly and felt a little better in her jeans and a sweatshirt. Maybe this was all her imagination. The cat was just a cat, and like all cats, it got where it shouldn’t. Being up and in the light, she was starting to feel a little better, so she decided to make a hot chocolate and just sit in the kitchen for a while.

  As her hand reached for the bedroom door, she heard the child’s scream.

  “Shit!”

  Heart pounding, she pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. “It’s just the branches,” she said. “Just the damned branches.”

  This time she grabbed hold of the handle, fear stayed her hand. What would be out there, what was waiting? Angry at her own nerves she yanked open the door. The wood paneled hallway was empty. Letting out a breath she walked from the room. Flicking on the lights as she rushed through the house. It was cold but not unnaturally so, this was just the normal chill of the early morning.

  The movement made her feel better, and with every step she took, her confidence grew. Quickly, she skipped down the stairs, flicking on the light at the bottom. The hallway was still a depressing room, shadows flanked the corners, and the kitchen door was like a black gaping hole. For a moment she hesitated and then she felt as if hands touched her back. Launching her forwards, she stumbled, wheeled her arms and righted herself. Quickly, she spun around. There was nothing there. No one was there! Nothing had touched her and yet she could still feel the impression on her shoulders. Fear weakened her knees and trapped the breath in her throat. Turning from left to right she tried to see who had touched her.

  “Stop this,” she screamed. “Whoever it is, just stop it, just leave me alone.” The silence mocked her. The only sound was the tick, tick, tick of the pipes as they cooled down.

  Emma circled around once more, but no one was there, not even the cat. Had she imagined it? Was she going mad? Part of her wanted to leave, to grab her car keys and to just drive away from this awful house and to never come back. Only there was another part of her. This one needed to know what was going on, she needed to understand why this was happening. Somehow she knew that if she left that would be it. She would never lead an independent life again, and she could not bear that.

  What she needed was to think this through and maybe to do a bit of research. There had to be a reason for these things happening and if she could find the reason then maybe she could… what… what was she thinking? Shaking her head in frustration, she walked towards the kitchen. As she passed beneath the banister something harsh pulled against her neck. It almost lifted her from her feet, cutting tight into her windpipe. Instinctively her hands reached up and sought to find what was holding her. As she struggled it pulled tighter and soon she could not breathe. Gasping, she fought with her arms, but nothing was there. There was nothing to grab hold of, nothing to pull away from, she scraped at her neck and could feel the skin coming away under her fingernails. Blood erupted between her fingers and her lungs burned as they desperately fought for oxygen. She tried to shout, tried to scream, tried to beg for mercy, but there was no room for any words to escape. The pain in her throat and the burning in her lungs was all she could think of. The air was frigid now, and yet the cold was a blessing. It calmed the burning in her neck calmed the burning in her lungs. Emma felt her eyes starting to close, felt as if she was falling into a deep pit and there would be no escaping.

  As her eyes closed, the world started to blacken, and she could smell smoke, burning. Was this it? Was this the end? With her last breath, she reached up to try and pull the rope from her neck. She did not understand how she knew it was a rope, but she did. Not only was it a rope, but it was also a noose and whoever put it there intended to hang her. Circling her arms above her head, she flapped and fought like a crazy thing. Whatever energy she had left she would use to fight. Just as she thought it was too late, she felt herself lifted. As if her feet came off the floor and the pain in her neck was gone. The pressure eased. She drew in a gasping, shuddering breath and filled her grateful lungs with sweet, sweet air. The smoke was gone.

  Dropping to her knees, she crawled into the kitchen and pulled herself into a chair. Though she wanted to run, she did not have the energy. So she collapsed down onto the table and gulped down great gasps of air until her head began to clear.

  The house was quiet, calm, and the temperature was quite normal. Gradually she looked up, was she dreaming this? Was this all in her mind? Surely, it had to be for anything else was insanity. Looking down at her shaking hands she was dismayed to see the ends of her fingers and nails were covered in blood.

  Emma stood, she desperately wanted to wash the blood away and to look at her neck. The reflection in the window showed the claw marks that she had made to herself as well as a deep welt across her neck.

  It was time to leave.

  Her handbag and car keys were on the table, she turned back and as she did a shadow moved across her. Where it touched, she was instantly cold and yet, when she turned there was nothing there. Turning once more she saw the shadow in the window, it was in the shape of a man. His mouth was open in an agonizing scream. Emma grabbed her keys and turned towards the front door. Though she wanted to look back, she knew she must not. It was time to run, and she fled from the room as fast as her feet would carry her. Just before she got to the front door, a haze appeared before her. It was just a smudge on her vision, a little like seeing something out of the corner of your eye. Yet she knew it intended to stop her. To prevent her from leaving and the fear turned her knees to jelly.

  “Let me go,” she screamed. “Please, just let me go.”

  Whispers surrounded her, and yet she could not understand a thing. The noise grew like leaves in a storm, like waves rolling to a crescendo. Every now and then she could hear a word and the air filled with the scent of burning flesh.

  “Go.” Came clear between the static. “Death,” the ghostly voice whispered. “Save.”

  Emma could not understand what they were saying, what it was saying to her, what did it want? She raised her hands to her ears trying to block out the noise, trying to shut it out but it would not work. The room started to spin, and
she felt her vision darken. She knew she had to get out of there, that if she did not, then she would die. The room tilted and she started to stumble. Scrambling forward she reached for the door.

  Emma collapsed onto the floor and was instantly unconscious, gradually, the murmuring stopped and the haze cleared from the room.

  Chapter 8

  Emma awoke to the sound of a persistent meow. Opening her eyes, she saw the bright sunlight and winced. Where was she? What had happened? As the memory started to come back, she tried to sit up and felt a little dizzy. Then she heard the meow again, her head jerked to the sound. The awful black cat was sat staring at her, its amber eyes like two windows into hell. Jerking upright she scooted back on her bottom until she hit the door. The cat just stared, licking its lips, before walking away. Raising a shaking hand to her head, she tried to stop the pounding.

  What had happened? With the sunlight streaming in through the windows the house did not look scary. In fact, it just looked and smelled like something a little old lady would live in. Emma got to her feet and breathed in the scent of sage and lavender, she swallowed. Her throat was raw, and she needed a drink. Licking her lips and trying to form some saliva she knew she had to go to the kitchen.

  The memory of the night before was fresh in her mind. What had she seen? In the daylight, it all seemed so silly. Maybe it was just a shadow, and yet she knew it was not. Something was wrong here, and she needed to find out what. Her handbag and coat were on the floor, her car keys were there too. Bending to pick them up she felt the blood rush to her head, and the pounding grew worse. A couple of paracetamol would go down well with a drink. She had to go to the kitchen.

  Slowly she walked towards the kitchen. With each step closer her heart pounded faster and harder, what did she expect? Nothing had happened during the day. That thought strengthened her resolve, so she walked towards the kitchen. As she stepped around the door, she could see the cat, sat on the surface staring out the window. The tuna she had put down the night before was still there, untouched.

  What sort of a cat was this?

  Emma grabbed a glass and poured some water, then she found two paracetamol and swallowed them down with a few sips of water. As she swallowed her throat protested angrily and yet the water was soothing. Slowly, she sipped the rest of the glass. Placing it in the sink, she saw her fingers. They were still covered in blood. Turning on the tap, she scrubbed at them as hard and fast as she could. Tears dropped from her eyes as she watched the blood swirl away down the drain.

  Emma left the house, climbed into the Volvo and locked the doors. It had never felt so good to be inside the car. Everything about it was familiar, everything about it was real. Starting the engine, she drove away from the house. Once she was on the road, she pulled into a layby. Pulling down the visor she looked at her face in the mirror. She was pale, drawn. As she looked lower, she could see a red welt across her neck.

  What had happened?

  Then the tears began to fall. She leaned back into the seat and wept. It was real, something was wrong. Either that or she was so crazy that she had actually strangled herself.

  Emma parked the car, grabbed her laptop, and went to the small cafe for her breakfast. She ordered a toasted teacake and a cappuccino and tried to stop the shaking while she waited for her order.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” the waitress asked as she popped her order onto the table.

  Emma swallowed, it was painful to speak. “Yes, thank you, just a bad night.”

  “If you need to talk, you can call me,” the waitress said before walking away.

  Emma smiled and felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside of her. The thought of telling somebody what had really happened was hilariously funny, and yet she had to tell someone.

  She nibbled on the teacake and sipped at the cappuccino but she had no appetite, and the food was like burnt ash in her mouth. Leaving some money on the table, she left for the library.

  Once in the library she opened up the laptop and logged onto the Internet. Her first thought was to Skype and to speak with Lynn. Yet just as she was about to press the button her hand froze.

  What could she say?

  Even if Lynn believed her what could she do? Maybe she should just go back to London. Yet something was stopping her. When she was away from the house, it was as if she wanted to go back. As if there was unfinished business, as if there was something she had to do.

  She sighed with exasperation... this was getting her nowhere.

  Opening up a browser she typed in Brynlee House. There were no listings. So she typed in Brynlee. A definition came up.

  An old English word meaning burnt clearing.

  She remembered the smell from the house, how many times had it smelt like burnt ash? Suddenly, she felt excited. Maybe she could find something.

  Yet, what should she type, what should she search for?

  She pulled a notepad out of her bag and started writing down everything that had happened.

  Cold spots.

  Noises.

  Screaming.

  Child’s laughter.

  Dead cat moved.

  Apparition.

  The smell of burning.

  Shudders ran down her spine as she remembered being in bed, somebody whispering into her ear.

  She added whispering in the ear to the list.

  Then in big letters, she wrote ghost and circled the word three times.

  Did she really believe the house was haunted?

  It didn’t matter, she knew something was wrong, and she knew she had to find out what. So, she grabbed a coffee from the machine and sat back down. For the next two hours, she searched for all of the terms, along with the local area, along with Brynlee House. Bit by bit she uncovered a history. There was a rumor of a house called, ‘the cage’. It had been used to torture and hang a local witch. The description of the house was vague, but the location sounded very much like where she was living. She read the article faster and faster, wanted to find out what was happening. Too soon she was finished, there was very little there. So she searched again and again. Now she had a name. The cage. Entering that alongside the word witch, she got three more results.

  The first told of a witch who was killed there. Emma’s blood ran cold as she read the name, Ursula Kemp. Her aunt’s name was Sylvia Kemp. Could this be a relative?

  She skipped to the next article, it didn’t really tell her anything more so she went to the last one. Feeling a little sick she read the words quicker and quicker. A man named Alden Carter tortured the witch, Ursula Kemp, in the basement of the cage. It appeared he broke her by burning her daughter alive. Emma could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes, and in her mind, she could hear the screaming of the child. Is that what she had been hearing?

  She closed her eyes and thought back to the night before. Suddenly the words were clearer.

  “Stop this.”

  The ghost wanted something. Did it want her to stop what had happened? For that was not possible. Or did it want her to do something?

  Emma knew she needed help and there was only one person she could ask. She finished her coffee, closed her laptop and left the library. The only problem she could see was he would think she was crazy. Maybe he would be right. Either she was crazy for thinking she saw ghosts, or she was crazy for trying to help them.

  Chapter 9

  Emma walked the short distance to the police station trying to decide what she could say.

  What would Brent think? Would he help?

  She knew she had to handle this carefully, she could not just blurt out that the house was haunted. Yet, maybe she could say she thought someone had been there and ask him to come and look.

  When she got to the station, there was a uniformed officer behind the counter.

  “Can I help you miss?”

  Emma had to swallow before she could get the words out. “Can I speak to Detective Inspector Brent Markham, please?”

  The policeman smiled an
d indicated for her to take a seat. Within minutes Brent walked through the door and into the waiting area. There was a broad grin on his face, he seemed really pleased to see her. That was until he noticed the mark on her neck.

  “What happened? Did he find you?”

  Emma took a deep breath, how could she explain this. “It was last night. I got up for a drink and… I don’t know who it was… Or what… I’m okay, though.”

  “Did you call 999?”

  “My phone doesn’t work there, and the landline has not been installed yet.”

  “I will sort something out about that. I think we should get you checked out by the doctor.” Brent said as he sat down beside her.

  “No, no, I’m all right… But I would like to ask a favor,” Emma said and she was suddenly feeling excited. Before she could analyze the feelings, he answered.

  “Anything.”

  “Would you come back to the house with me? Would you have another look around? Maybe cut down those branches and just check that there is no one there?”

  “My shift finishes in half an hour.” he said and looked over at the counter. “Heck, this is work, let’s go now. Just give me a moment.”

  Brent walked towards the counter where he spoke to the officer behind it for a few minutes. Taking something from the man, he returned to her.

  “I want you to take this. It’s a police radio. I told them you’re having problems with an intruder. I don’t want you to stay in that house... but just in case you do, or wherever you are, if you get into trouble you use this radio. I’m off shift now, but I will have my radio on all night. If you need me, I will be there. I want you to call no matter what. If you hear anything, see anything, even think someone is there, call me, and I will be there.”

  Emma took the radio and nodded. “Thank you,” she said as she wiped tears away from her eyes.

  Brent held out his arm and gave her a big smile. “Okay, Emma? Let’s go see what we can find.”