The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  But he couldn’t because his wife was playing with a tea-set and for some reason had a black and blue on her brow. And she seemed scared to death.

  “What makes you think she doesn’t like me?” he asked. Sarah’s hand went to her brow and touched the bluish lump.

  “I figured out she was giving you bad dreams and I told her that she had to be nice because you and I were married and living here now and someday we would have children. I said everyone had to get along.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I was being daft.”

  Chapter Nine

  Rick touched the bump on her forehead.

  “How did you get this?”

  “I went to leave the attic and a wooden block hit me. She can move things Rick. That’s something that she wasn’t able to do before. But I think – that she thinks, if you aren’t here, then we can play again, and just be children.”

  Rick stared at her, his face aghast, he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation, but the image of the gloating girl floated back to his mind and unless his wife was lying about how she got the bruise...

  “Do you believe me then?”

  He pulled her close and wrapped her body in his arms. Sarah swallowed a sob.

  “How did you know about the dreams?”

  “I guessed. You looked so tired and sullen, and it reminded me of before.”

  “Before what? Before when you lived here, twenty-five years ago. Rosa told me.”

  Sarah meekly nodded her head.

  “When we moved in I don’t think she had been dead long. I’d hear her crying in my room and then one time I saw her. Mum and dad didn’t believe me but then she started appearing. She wanted to play hide and seek. Nights must’ve been the loneliest for her because that’s when she was the most active. I know she just wanted to play, but mum and dad always made me go back to bed. And that’s when they started to have bad dreams, even see things themselves.”

  The hair on the back of Rick’s neck stood up, and he glanced nervously around. “I wasn’t scared of her then Rick. She was just a little child, and so was I. But then she started to appear more and more. Kind of like she was demanding to be acknowledged. Mum and dad were terrified. So, they asked questions in the town. They heard about Maggie Jackson. We had to move away because – stuff just kept getting worse.”

  Rick’s skin was hot and cold. He was out of his depth and the nervousness was unwelcome. He raised his voice, ranting through his anxiety. “What did you expect them to do? Stay here and be terrorised by a ghost child? Would you do that Sarah? If it were our child? Would you let her play with Maggie in the middle of the night? And give us all nightmares, and send us to the mad house with visions we couldn’t forget?” His eyes burned into Sarah.

  “Visions. You’ve seen her?” Rick didn’t answer. Sarah held him close and stroked his hair.

  “She was just a child back then and she couldn’t do the things she can do now. But wouldn’t you lash out if your mother was killed and then you woke up dead because you were killed by the one who was supposed to protect you? And wouldn’t you resent the people trying to make a happy life in your home?”

  “So, it’s true?” Rick asked “Her father killed her?” Sarah shook her head and shrugged.

  “I don’t know, but I guess Maggie thinks he did. I can’t just abandon her – all of my life I’ve thought about her. All I wanted to do was to bring her peace, and I can’t rest until I do it. That’s the reason I wanted to come back. When we left, I promised her I would.”

  Sarah’s face contorted into a red ball, her freckles meshing together and her eyes brimming again with tears. She brought an angry hand up and wiped them away. “To this day my parents won’t talk about it.” Rick gave a half- hearted smile, hiding his nervousness.

  “Now it makes sense as to why you wouldn’t tell them we bought this place.”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you. But I really wanted this, and I thought I could help her find peace.” She searched Rick’s face.” I couldn’t tell you because you would never have believed me. I thought you might eventually know she was here, but she’s angrier than ever.”

  “What if we can’t ‘fix things’ for this ghost Sarah? Things have gotten out of hand, we’re in a huge pickle. I don’t know… I never believed in this kind of thing before. Maybe we should get one of those… exorcism people here.”

  A heaviness descended over the room. An immediate temperature drop caused Sarah and Rick’s eyes to meet in a mutual shock. Alarm bells were ringing inside Sarah’s head. Horror filled her eyes.

  “This doesn’t feel right. Let’s get out of here. Come on.” Sarah tugged on Ricks sleeve, but it was too late.

  Maggie was exerting all of her strength. A piercing scream rang through the room; the light bulb blew. Sarah and Rick covered their ears as the walls shook. Rick grabbed Sarah’s arm and made for the doorway. Objects from the dollhouse began swirling and moving through the air. Dust was flying in their eyes and they shielded their heads from the assault. The dollhouse was picked up on a ghostly wind and flung on the far side of the room. Sarah was screaming but her wail was lost in the surrounding din. The doorway slammed in their faces and shook the surrounds. Objects finally dropped to the floor.

  Chapter Ten

  The room was awash with the presence of Maggie. Rick tugged at the door, but it was stuck fast. Sarah grabbed the ladder and dragged it over, dread was almost immobilising her but she fought against it all the time crying out “Maggie, please let us out.” A deep darkness descended and the temperature plummeted. Breath spirals hung in the air.

  Rick lunged pointlessly at the door. Seeing Sarah with the ladder, he grabbed a hold of it and with Sarah they backed up ramming the old wooden structure. On the fourth heave, it gave way and the two of them tumbled through and ran down the stairs to the living room. A low-pitched sound followed them and increased to a terrible ear-splitting screech.

  Maggie’s keening wailed through the house and as the pitch rose higher, windows smashed.

  A piece of glass flew through the air and cut Rick on the cheek. A storm that had started up outside was now raging in through the broken window frames. Rain blew in and lashed the walls and floors as a full force wind tore about the house.

  Maggie had harnessed its power and was using it to full advantage. Grabbing Sarah by the arm Rick pulled them both through the house and out through the front door to the street.

  The door banged shut behind them.

  Falling into their car, Rick and Sarah clung to each other shaking and trembling until they regained their breath. Rick climbed out and opened the boot retrieving the picnic blanket and spare coats. They huddled together in the back seat for warmth with Rick’s back wedged between Sarah and the back side of the front seats.

  “We’ll get an exorcist. And if that doesn’t work – if we can’t get rid of her, we’ll just have to cut our losses. We’re young, we can start again.”

  “Get rid of her? What do you mean – have an exorcist come? I can’t do that Rick. It’s a little girl, even though she’s dead.”

  “Are you losing your mind? THAT is not a little girl. It’s a… a…. I don’t know … an entity, a powerful entity.”

  Rick started to shake. “Oh, God. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Look Sarah, she can hurt us.”

  Sarah sighed a breathy, teary sigh and lifted her head out from Ricks chest to rest it on his shoulder. “I guess she changed, into whatever ghosts are capable of changing into. But somewhere inside of it, is Maggie. If she’d been helped before she wouldn’t be in this situation. None of us would. I can’t leave her to suffer for eternity.” Rick ran his hands through his hair, panic showed in his eyes.

  Sarah pleaded. “Rick, try to understand, she was just a little girl until this terrible thing happened, she didn’t mean to change

  like this. I promised I’d help her. Don’t you know, she’s just a child…” Sarah was weeping now, tired, afraid and overwrought
. Rick sighed and took one of his arms away from Sarah to massage the knots in his neck and head.

  “Alright, alright, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The grey morning light woke Rick and Sarah from the deep sleep they had finally managed to find in their exhaustion. Rick opened the car door and eased himself off the seat, Sarah followed.

  Crumpled and cranky they stretched and looked over at the house. The air was still damp from the storm and puddles gathered in the uneven pavement.

  Rick crossed the path and crossed the lawn to a tree to relieved himself. Something was going to have to be done with those broken windows before any more damage occurred, but he didn’t want to think about it right now. Besides with everything else that had to be taken care of, smashed windows to an old and neglected house didn’t seem to take too high of a priority.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Sarah walked around in circles gritting her teeth. The service station a few miles off the highway would have amenities, something hot to drink and food, of sorts.

  “I’m dying to use the loo. And we can get a cuppa if we go to the service station – that one a few miles off the highway.”

  Over bitter coffee with fake cream and lots of sugar, Sarah braced herself as Rick broached the subject of Maggie again.

  “I know you don’t want to leave her there, at least not like that, but I don’t know what we can do about it.”

  Sarah dropped her head, not really wanting to meet his eyes. From under her lashes she countered him.

  “We could at least try to figure out exactly what happened. I mean, even figuring that out, might be enough to bring her peace.”

  “Well how do you intend to do that Sherlock?” Rick winced as he took a sip of the dark brown liquid.

  “You could’ve asked for a teabag you know.” Sarah made an impatient face at him and then softened it with a smile. They were both tired and irritable but Rick had a lot to come to terms with. “Well, for starters we could go to the library, check out what information there’s available. They must have copies of newspapers.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They pulled up into the parking lot of the old house, turned community library and waited.

  Sarah read the sign out loud.

  LIBRARY HOURS 10 a.m. – 4:30 p.m.

  The day began to warm. Rick and Sarah, fed, watered, and groomed of sorts, thanks to the crude amenities of the service station, reclined in the front seats of their car. They cat napped for an hour and a half until the growl of an engine dying and a car door slamming jolted Sarah from her sleep. Nudging Rick, she rubbed at her eyes and waited for him to wake up.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The interior of the library still maintained its home like qualities. A few walls had been knocked out, and a wooden entrance desk had been installed. The building had a warm ambience, thanks to the lemon walls, white trim and hardwood floors, but it lacked the exciting old book smell that a library should have.

  Instead floral notes with a synthetic taint wafted through the rooms. A middle-aged woman, wearing a swept back bun, dot earrings and silver frame eyeglasses peered under her glasses at her paperwork.

  Sarah couldn’t help but notice how her cardigan matched the walls and also that she managed to ignore them for a full two minutes until Sarah spoke up with a forced smile to keep the agitation from her voice.

  “Hello. Umm… We’re interested in microfiche or digital copies of old newspapers?” The woman pushed her glasses up fully onto her nose and looked up from over the top of them and pushed a paper on a clipboard at them.

  “Sign in here. All our papers are on microfilm. Non-members pay £2.50 per hour.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  They were seated in the tiny room where half a dozen microfilm readers were crammed in.

  Rick was crunched up under the narrow wooden table and metal frame chair, his arms seemed oversized on the tiny desk something about it made him look like a beaten-up spider. She smiled at him, and rubbed back.

  “I think we should start a few years before my family moved to the house. She would have been about four or five back then.”

  “Maybe the old dragon up at the counter will know when we should start looking?”

  “Do you really want her in here and brave the hellfire? Let’s just look ourselves.”

  Thirty minutes into the search. Sarah had something.

  “Here it is. It happened 1991, the 5th of May.” Rick looked over her shoulder as Sarah read aloud.

  “Tragedy has struck the small village of Coggeshall when a six-year-old child was pronounced dead at the scene of her Fairview home after falling down the stairs where her neck was broken. Constable Dean Jackson is currently under investigation as to the events that led to the fall, although charges are not expected to be laid. Long-time friend and co-worker, Chief Inspector Diggins, admitted that Constable Jackson had been suffering depression since the untimely death of his wife.

  The Jacksons are a well-known and respected family in our community, and we grieve with Dean at the sudden loss of his daughter in face of recently losing his wife.” Chief Inspector Diggins reports that although no suspicious circumstances are suspected an autopsy will be conducted. Inspector Diggins also requests that the privacy of Constable Jackson be respected in this most difficult of times.”

  Scrolling through the days beyond her death, Maggie’s obituary was recorded. Dean Jackson’s message showed an emotionally stilted man. Sarah read it out loud and then burst into tears.

  “Margaret (Maggie) Jackson aged six years. Survived by Dean Jackson (father). Preceded by her mother (Margaret). She enjoyed playing with her dollhouse. At peace with her mother now. Private funeral, no flowers.”

  Rick buried Sarah’s face in his shoulder “Shh shhh”

  “She was so little.” Sarah wailed, between sobs.

  “Shh shhh. Do you want dragon woman to come in?”

  “NO.” Sarah sobbed. Rick held her close and Sarah muffled her weeping into his shirt. “Poor little Maggie. Nobody loved her. Not in the right way. Not since her mother died.”

  “No. Not in the right way. We’ll help her Sarah. We will.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Pulling the car into the parking lot of local police station Rick and Sarah debated on how to approach the question of Maggie’s death.

  “I’ve got it. Let’s be journalists. We can say we’re researching stories about untimely deaths, that were said to be accidents, but were really murder.”

  Rick raised a sceptical brow. “If you think that’ll work… I guess so.”

  They hadn’t spent five minutes in the building before they were exiting again. Sarah clutched the name and number of the semi-retired Chief Inspector Andrew Dyson. The young constable behind the glass window said that ‘yes’ he had heard of Maggie Jackson. That it was almost folklore around this town, but ‘no’ – he could not give them access to any records but Chief Inspector Dyson might be willing to discuss it with them.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Sitting in a café, with sandwiches and tea, Sarah punched the number into her mobile, still unsure of if she was going to pull off the ruse of being a journalist. It answered on the second ring.

  “Hello”

  “Chief Inspector Dyson?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Sarah Foley an independent journalist. I’m currently working on a project where we investigate seemingly accidental deaths, those that might have been murder, sort of a cold case investigation, where we look at the evidence and try to decide if foul play was at hand.”

  “Let me guess, you want to talk about Maggie Jackson.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry – of course the constable at the station.”

  “No-oo. But, I’ll talk to you. Come on over.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rick and Sarah were greeted at the door above the vigorous barking of a black retriever that looked dolefully at them once Dyson spoiled his fun by yelling. He led them out
to ‘The Dog House’, as he called it, Nugget at his side.

  Photos of a former, younger, glory lined the walls. Smartly uniformed bobbies, police cars and horses were on one row, with another row of photos dedicated to hunting expeditions and gun dogs. A CB radio set up to the side and a dart board hung on a dedicated wall. To the left of it was a small refrigerator with chairs and a sofa and a free-standing wood fire already set. A pile of fishing and hunting magazines sat on top of a mini bar. Dyson opened the fridge and offered them an ale. I’ve got lemonade if you prefer. They both accepted an ale and he put the match to the fire.

  “So, you’re reporters then? Who’d you say you were with?” He hovered midway over the cold opening of the refrigerator waiting for a response.

  “Ah, no. We’re independent. Its... freelance work.”

  Dyson shut the fridge, cracked the tops to the ale and said, “I suppose it doesn’t hurt that you just bought the Fairview place. You probably got curious about it.”

  Sarah flushed from the neck up and Rick who towered above the older man, seemed to diminish in size. Dyson clapped Rick on the back.

  “Don’t worry about it son. It’s a small village after all. Besides, I hear you nearly ran my lad over on the highway two nights ago. He didn’t throw the book at you – did he?” Rick blew his cheeks out and ran his hands through his fringe. It stuck up at an angle; as he’d done it so often lately, and it hadn’t been washed in two days now.

  “Sorry mate, err Sir.” Rick looked apologetic. Dyson parked himself in what was obviously his favourite spot judging by the indentation on the seat.

  “Pull up a chair, go-on.” Sarah and Rick sat on the old couch and waited, not knowing where to go with the conversation.

  “What can I help you with. You wouldn’t be the first to be chased out of that house...”

  “It’s just that, well, we were wondering…” Sarah started out, “The little girl that died there, Maggie?” Rick finished the sentence for her.