The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  Anne missed her mother every single day. Every time she looked in the mirror the scars reminded her of the day she died. In a way, the accident had taken her father too; because it was too big of a hurdle to forgive him for remarrying within several months. It was the two social workers in the hospital that taught her to turn her pain into strength and eventually she decided to follow in their footsteps. Social work was a tough job. You did it for passion, not money. And Anne was passionate about helping people. The only problem was she was a bit of a rule breaker. Life was short and people were more important than a generic rule.

  “Anne, you’ve got a big heart, but you need to learn to pull back. You’ll lose yourself if you don’t.” That had been the advice of her previous supervisor, who had recommended Anne for transfer rather than dismissal. “You’ve breached an ethical boundary more than once. It’s for the good of the facility that you leave - and for your own safety.”

  The truth though was that sometimes people needed just that little bit extra. The streets were a dangerous place to live and everyone knew there was a paucity of shelters and resources compared to people who needed them.

  The ‘crimes’ Anne had committed were to ‘share personal information’ in the way of providing her mobile phone number to a vulnerable young woman in case she needed immediate help. And for another she had paid for a hostel for one night. A fifteen-year-old-young girl had fought off an attacker and the shelters were full to capacity. The girl had nowhere to go to recover and feel safe. Was that really so bad of me? Anne asked herself.

  It became known on the streets that Anne was a soft touch and if you wanted a clean bed and hot meal, just ask Anne. None of her actions had been grievous, but they had potentially put her in harm’s way. So, Westminster was the new scene and Anne was learning to pull back and leave work at work.

  Judging by the number of heads she had counted, they were up by 12% on last year. And the demographic was maintaining the trend. More families, more elderly. And there was likely to be quite a number she had missed - those that might be holing up in the abandoned buildings around the city limits. Pamela Stiller, her new boss, said she would have to figure a way to find that out, ‘but safety first’.

  “Would that they would stay out in the open for simplified counting, but strangely you will find them opting for a drier, warmer night under any available roof. No matter how inconvenient for us. In this scenario, a guestimate will do. Just do your best and ask around on the streets.”

  So, that’s what she did.

  “Hey, Mac.”

  Mac reached for the coffee and donut that Anne held out.

  “I’m counting heads for the census. Know of any new faces? Maybe you’ve seen some come in to town late at night and sleep outside of the city in the day?”

  Mac caused no problems, but he was destined to live out his life on the streets due to alcoholic binges and PTSD from his entire childhood being in foster care or group homes.

  “Well there’s bound to be a bunch of ‘em in them old buildings out toward the north end. So, you might wanna take a look. ‘Course there’s Vera. But you know about her. Way up in that big old house – out on its own - where they built that new highway, past them warehouses?”

  “No. Who’s Vera? How many do you think are in there besides her?”

  “Only her. She’s the only one crazy enough to stay there.”

  Anne moved on, making a notation to check on Vera later in the week.

  “Hi, Mandy.”

  Mandy spun around on her sleeping mat, her belongings piled at her head. Mandy was an angry sixteen-year-old who had been on the streets for over eighteen months. According to her case worker she refused to ‘go inside’.

  They were hopeful for rehabilitation, but it was a slow process of building trust and confidence.

  “Just doing the annual head count. Wanna sandwich?” She waited while Mandy ate. “So, any new faces about that I might not have met yet?”

  Mandy shrugged.

  “Dunno, who’ve ya met?”

  Her voice was surly and Anne sighed. There would be no help here.

  “I worry about you out here, Mandy. You just gotta run into the wrong one and you don’t know what’ll happen. If you won’t come in to us, I heard there’s a house in the north end – up by the warehouses with only one older lady in it.”

  The young woman shook her head emphatically.

  “I met more than one wrong person in my life. I’ll take my chances with the bums out here more than I would with that old bag lady and her house.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t it be safer up there?”

  “No. I’m good. Thanks for the food.”

  It was an end to the conversation and Anne moved on. Mandy’s choice was hers alone to make.

  It was only Anne’s job to facilitate. But why wouldn’t a person go and sleep in that house with just one old woman? In Anne’s point of view it beat the risk of muggings and rape.

  Chapter Two

  Anne took the exit off the newly built highway and drove down into an old industrial suburb following along until a wide bend brought her into an expanse of warehouses that were in the process of being revamped. It’s a long way for a woman to be out by herself. Maybe the distance is why no one wants to be here. But’s that’s not what they’d said.

  Passing by a grouping of buildings she noticed a sign that notified of a proposed new housing development and a shopping mall. Mac said it was a house out on its own. Driving for several more minutes, an old house standing alone in hectares of field rose up on the horizon; dilapidated, lonely, and somehow insubordinate. This must be it. Anne turned the ignition off and listened to the engine die. It was a good size house; two stories high and a crumbling brick chimney.

  The lattice work fence around the underdeck was being tirelessly forced to the ground by mounds of choking vine. At one time the house was probably the heart of a family farming operation with half a dozen children playing in the fields.

  White paint curled from the weatherboards and the aged tin roof showed rusted patches. Dry straggling grass, yellowed from the lack of water, grew knee high from the road to the door. Anne exited her car and walked toward the house collecting grass seeds in her socks.

  A shopping trolley tossed to its side glinted in the sun by the steps. She trod them carefully, skipping the rotted one, and knocked on the door. A shadow caught her eye and a frightened, lined face peeked out from the edges of a window.

  “Hello? I’m Anne, from social services.” Arrggh. Wrong thing to say. She could’ve kicked herself. “I’ve come to introduce myself, to meet you, that’s all. I’ve got food. Are you hungry?”

  Anne held the burger box high in her hands. It was the right move. The door slowly opened and she stepped inside. The woman was slightly built, tiny really. In her younger days, she would have been called ‘petite’. Her hair was surprisingly brown and long yet it was pitifully thin. A guesstimate put her in her in her early seventies.

  “Are you Vera?”

  Her voice held a smile as she handed over the box and a bottle of water. The woman ignored her and entered the room on the left. Anne followed, stopping abruptly in the doorway, bewildered at what she saw.

  Despite torn wall paper and water stains along the ceiling edges, and a considerable gouge where something of force had damaged the wall, the room was clean and tidy, of sorts. A dated brown sofa sat in a corner, one of the arms was split down the centre and held together by splinters.

  The other end of it sloped downwards where the springs had gone, and the two of the three cushions were torn, exposing their innards. Next to the sofa an upturned crate was placed as a side table, partially covered with a piece of towel. The sitting room adjoined a kitchen. At some time, the wall had been knocked out making the whole area a kitchen-dining-sitting room.

  Vera walked through the open partition and placed the water on the laminate bench shocked to see rows of two-litre plastic bottles, filled with the same. A mar
ble green kitchen table with rusted aluminium legs and a single red hard-backed chair stood against one wall. Piles of fast food boxes had been opened out flat to fold neatly into bundles and were placed in a corner.

  A discarded rubbish bin, reclaimed by Vera, contained empty food cans, used paper coffee cups, and plastic drink bottles.

  Anne turned toward a scuffling noise coming from the pile of cardboard. A mouse scampered out from under it and disappeared into a crack in the floor near her feet. The old woman didn’t seem to notice. Cupboards ran above and under the sink. Bending down and opening one, Vera brought out a used paper plate, ignoring the mouse droppings that had collected on it. Prising open the box of food, she disassembled the burger, peeling away the onion and tomato and tore off a piece of the bun next to the meat, and put it on the paper plate and back in the cupboard.

  “Like the greased side best don’t ya?”

  Meticulously reassembling the burger, Vera took it over to the table, seated herself, and gummed down hard, the absence of teeth having no effect on her chewing ability. Once finished, she opened up the box and placed it neatly with the others, muttering away, seemingly unaware of Anne’s continuing presence.

  “Getcha quick. He’ll Getcha. Gotta be careful.” She shook her head in vigorous nods and suddenly lifted her hands to her face and called “Leave off, Porgie.” Her body seemed to shrink back, her face crumpled in a wince.

  Vera implored “He’s hurting me.” Unexpectedly, her demeanour changed, she whirled around and screeched with a force that seemed impossible for such a little woman. “STOP IT, Porgie.” then “Ha, yeah, got him, got him good.”

  “Vera?”

  Anne took a step back, wondering if she had bitten off too much coming here alone. Vera was calming down, her gummy mouth lit in a smile.

  “He’s a bad un. Yeah. She got him good. He’s hiding now.”

  “Who’s a bad one, Vera?”

  “Georgie Porgie, pudding n pie, kissed the girls and made ‘em die.”

  “You mean he made them cry, like the rhyme?”

  Vera turned her head sharply to face Anne, a scoff flitted over the timeworn mouth, then abruptly she turned her head and fixed her eyes into space.

  “Do you live here alone?” Anne sought a way to re-orient Vera. “I’d like to visit you again. I can bring food.”

  As she spoke her nose wrinkled up as an overwhelming sickly-sweet scent had percolated in from somewhere.

  “Harriet said to go now.”

  “Who’s Harriet?”

  Vera turned away and sat down on the decrepit couch and began chatting away.

  Chapter Three

  It had been a week since her last visit. This time, hopefully, a better connection might be made with Vera. The rhyme the old woman said played on Anne’s mind, ‘Georgie Porgie… kissed the girls and made them die.’ Shivers ran down her spine. What a horrible ditty. Banging on the door brought no response and Anne waited patiently. A sickly-sweet scent blew on the wind, reminding Anne of her previous visit where the house had seemed suddenly full of it. Absent-mindedly she noticed the lattice work surrounding the underdeck was almost being pulled down by unwieldy foliage.

  “Oh look, that’s where’s the smell is coming from, a Jasmine creeper.” Oops! Talking to yourself now! Anne wondered who it was that said, ‘we are all a bit mad in varying degrees’.

  Banging on the door again and holding the burger high and toward the dust encrusted window, she waited until the door creaked open. Vera took the burger from Anne wordlessly and Anne followed her into the kitchen watching her disassemble the burger, feed her mouse, put the burger back together, and sit at the table in the red backed chair.

  Once she was finished eating Vera folded the box neatly and added it to the pile. There was a rhythm to her actions, Vera was very methodical. When she had completed the tasks, she rose and they made their way back to the sitting room, as Ann had known they would.

  “How have you been, Vera?”

  “Harriet’s angry.”

  “Why’s Harriet angry?”

  “Porgie kissed her.”

  “Is Harriet your friend?”

  Vera began jabbering, “Harriet’s here. Getcha quick, Gotta be careful.”

  “I see.” Ann paused for a moment and then said, “Vera, I would like to be your friend too. I could bring you to meet Dr Warren. Would you come and visit him with me? He can give you medicine and you can feel better.”

  Vera’s eyes widened until they bulged and her bottom lip began to tremble, causing Anne to wish she could take the words back. Something banged in the kitchen and fell with a resounding crash.

  “That was loud, wasn’t it?” Anne very much wanted to establish connection, but Vera didn’t respond. Instead she cowered into the corner of the sofa and Anne felt a surge of protectiveness toward her. “It’s OK. It must’ve been wind coming in and it’s knocked something over, that’s all.” God knows how many holes in the walls open up this place to the elements. “Shall I look?”

  A shadow flitted out from the kitchen as Anne stood. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she placed her hands to settle the wobble in her stomach.

  “What was that?” It wasn’t that Anne was really expecting an answer, but more that the shadow was unexpected, moving fast, and it shocked her. Vera remained completely still, her eyes fixed toward the kitchen, nervously waiting on something, it seemed. After a moment Anne answered her own question. “It was just the shadow of a branch I guess.”

  As far as she could recall, the house had no trees near it, but she had to say something, even just to reassure herself.

  A thread of fear wove into her thinking. The house was definitely creepy.

  OK, just ignore it, whatever it was there’s a rational explanation. Even so, her heart rate increased as she walked into the kitchen, legs quivering for the few steps that it took. How in the world...?

  The red backed chair was upturned and flung to the opposite corner, she picked it up inquisitively.

  “Harriet said LEAVE.”

  Anne jumped almost out of her shoes, before turning to see Vera behind her, the little face puckered up in fear. That sweet sickly smell had blown in causing a queasy feeling that upset her stomach. A shudder ran over her body, an intuition that she wasn’t safe. Slowly she moved toward the door.

  “Ok, I’m leaving now.” The words were louder than they needed to be. Anne turned to Vera, “Come with me? Let’s go together.”

  The little woman shuddered and shook, her eyes darted around, searching the room.

  “LEAVE.”

  Vera’s voice was fierce.

  Reaching forward quickly Anne put her hand on the door knob, opened it, rushing out and hurrying down the path almost in a guilty run. There was plenty of paper work to catch up on in the office and even though she felt like a baby, Anne didn’t want to be alone.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Slipping into the chair behind her desk the large rubber plant she had brought with her from her previous job partially hid her from sight. Pamela was talking softly on the phone.

  “I didn’t want to take her on. Bleeding hearts are always trouble. I’ll be filling out paperwork on her before you know it. Last thing I need is more work. It’s been a long fortnight already.”

  Anne hunched lower in her chair. Is that me she’s talking about? Her question was immediately answered.

  Pamela turned her head around, and glanced at her.

  “I’ll have to go. Call you back.”

  A fake smile was planted on her face when she sauntered over to Anne’s desk. “How’s the new girl on the block? Are you getting a feel for your area yet?”

  “It’s been more challenging than I imagined it would. But I’m getting there.”

  “It’s always hard the first few weeks. You’ll find your feet, but remember don’t get too involved.”

  Anne felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  “No. Thank you, I won’t.” Trying to appear profession
al, Anne turned the conversation to her day’s work. “I’ve found an old woman who lives alone in a derelict house. It’s odd because none of the other people out around the streets will touch that place - even though it might be a safer option for some of them.”

  “That is strange. Where is it?”

  Encouraged, Ann perked up, “It’s out by the warehouses. Right where the new highway was built. North of town, about 15 minutes.”

  “Oh….” Surprise flashed on and off Pamela’s face. “I know the place.” Her voice was bland. “Honestly, I thought it was going to be demolished – it was meant to be. It’s been derelict for years. I just assumed that old vagrant moved on. We gave her plenty of warning to move, but she refused our help so we

  Pamela shrugged her shoulders “Strange we didn’t know she was still out there. I guess no one checked.”

  “It just got my curiosity going that’s all - people on the street seem scared of the house. Like, really scared. What’s the history?”

  “I don’t know much about it. People had been hurt out there, so I’ve heard. It was dilapidated and falling apart, but if I recall there’s a bit of an urban legend going around about a serial killer who died in a gruesome manner out there. It puts people off, you know.

  They really should have knocked the place down. However, that’s council business, not ours.” Pamela was thoughtful. “But even so, it’s a long way out, you should be careful. Don’t go wearing your heart on your sleeve and don’t get too involved.”

  “Alright.” Anne felt her neck heating up and Pamela left her to her reports.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was after 3 AM and Anne tossed and turned mulling over Vera’s situation. Given the quirks of the house, with running shadows and the like, maybe Vera was in as much danger in that house as in the street; she certainly seemed afraid.