The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  Nora sipped more ale.

  “And after Old Charley?”

  “They decommissioned Hellfleet. Stood empty for over fifty years. Takes a while for people to forget.”

  “How do you know so much?”

  “Family’s been here since before Clareth and Daniel. Every one of us got warned about Hellfleet.”

  Duncan finished off his ale and stood.

  “I’m guessin’ you don’t believe in Woody or any ghost, and that’s fine. Maybe, he did get tired of hangin’ around. I hope, I hope.”

  Nora watched Duncan weave his way to the bar. She wondered just how much of his story was true. Probably very little. After all, the Internet said absolutely nothing about Elija Ravenwood.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  As Nora stepped away from the car, she looked up at the tower platform. Was there a figure looking out to sea? She didn’t see any. There was no funny smell when she entered the cottage, and no scraping either.

  Just to be sure, she checked the trunk. Both boots were in there. She smiled and headed for her office. With any luck, she would put in some productive time before Felix called.

  Felix’s call came after Nora had spent two hours at the computer and one hour in bed.

  She was groggy when she answered the phone, but still Felix’s voice was welcome. They didn’t talk long.

  He was tired, suffering from jet lag. She was half asleep. Good-byes were quick. She settled into her pillow and closed her eyes.

  That’s when she heard the scream.

  Chapter Seven

  Nora’s eyes popped open. She stared into the dark of the bedroom and felt her heart start to pound. For some seconds, she did absolutely nothing. Her mind couldn’t quite determine if she had actually heard a scream, or if her brain had somehow manufactured one. In that nether world between sleep and wakefulness, that layer when dreams seemed clothed in reality, in that place – there was a scream. But was there one for real?

  There couldn’t be.

  Despite her racing heart, logic told her that a scream required a person, and she was quite sure she was all alone. Except for whoever else might be out there. She had checked the doors before she went to bed. An unpleasant trickle of fear began in her stomach.

  She tried to squash it, and lay there, eyes moving left and right, not wanting to move and yet not sure of anything.

  The question was whether or not she would be able to go to sleep, or would she lie there all-night waiting for a scream that couldn’t come.

  “Bloody hell,” she said out loud tossing the covers off. Feet into slippers, once more she wondered if she needed a weapon.

  At that thought, she stopped. Did she really need to go? Couldn’t it be just a dream? Who wouldn’t hear a scream after listening to Duncan’s stories? She was surprised she didn’t see the drowned image of Elija Ravenwood walk through the door.

  And then there was the little voice that pleaded with her. You’ll probably be safer hiding right here under the covers. Still, she couldn’t deny her heart. Setting her jaw, she turned on a light and left the room, mobile phone in hand.

  Her first search was the kitchen. Nothing. The office. Nothing. The loo, the bathroom, the laundry, the living room, finally, the back bedroom. The place where everything seemed to happen. All turned up nothing.

  “Well I’m bloody well not going outside, and absolutely I’m not going up those stairs OR the platform.

  So, you can just forget it Woody or whoever the hell you are.” Her voice sounded braver than she felt.

  Feeling foolish for yelling at no-one, Nora marched back into the bedroom. She had found nought. Not a sound, not an odour, not a scream, not a human or a ghost. If “Woody” was hanging around, he was keeping to himself.

  Pulling off her slippers and robe she climbed into bed. A frigid draft rushed over the back of her neck and Nora simply dived under the covers still hanging onto her phone.

  She debated and argued. If she called Felix what could he do? She would just worry him, and she couldn’t call the police because she heard a scream and now there was a draft.

  No, Nora told herself firmly from under the covers. There couldn’t be a draft. The doors and windows were closed.

  She just checked them. Yet, she had felt something, and if it was a draft…

  She didn’t complete the thought. In fact, she didn’t want to think at all. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

  There had been no scream and no draft, and she wasn’t going to act as if there had been.

  She made sure the bedroom door was locked.

  Under the covers she began singing songs in her head, anything to keep her mind off what was going on here. She didn’t close her eyes straight away. In fact, she didn’t know when she dozed off, but somehow in all of her emotional exhaustion, and remembering Erma would be there in the morning; she slept.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “A question,” Nora said as she made a pot of tea. “What do you know about Woody?”

  Erma looked at Nora for a few seconds.

  “Ah, I see you’ve met Duncan. You know, for an extra pint, he would have told you all about Bertie and the Tonegal Stone.”

  “Tonegal?”

  “It’s a bit of a story, and he loves to tell it — if you buy the ale.”

  “Then, there’s nothing to Clareth and Daniel?”

  “I didn’t say that, miss. Clareth and Daniel were real and if the stories about them are real, they were as evil as people as you could get. Their habit of letting the fire die sent many a ship onto the shoals.”

  Nora stirred her tea mindlessly, “And Collingwood?”

  “Do you mean Ravenwood? He was real also. The Wipford went down out there in a storm straight from Hell.

  Some claim that if the wind is right, you can still hear the sailors screamin’.”

  “Screaming?”

  “I can’t vouch for that, I never heard ‘em, and I can’t say if Ravenwood actually made it to the beach that night. His dyin’ curse might be the stuff of unicorn sightings. But it makes for a lively tale to share on a dark night.”

  “Do you think that Ravenwood, – is real?”

  “Woody? As real as your imagination.” Erma stopped working and stared into Nora’s eyes. “The ravens around this place are real, and they make a mischief once on a while. And on occasion I find a window that shouldn’t be open and a draft that comes and goes and maybe a real strong smell of seaweed and rotten fish. But I wouldn’t give the credit to Woody. There’s gulls as well as ravens out there, and they bring all sorts up onto the rocks. Take a look and you’ll see a hundred different kinds of broken shells and the like. Bits of fish too.”

  “But you always go home before dark,” Nora said. “Why?”

  Erma returned to her work. “Aye, I do. And I think that’s prudent. I don’t see well enough for drivin’ at night.”

  “One last question,” Nora said. “Have you ever found a boot lying around?”

  “A boot?”

  “In places where it shouldn’t be.”

  Erma shook her head.

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  Taking her tea, Nora went to her office. When she arrived, she looked at the window. On the sill stood a coal-black raven, its black eye trained on her.

  She stopped in her tracks. For some reason, the bird unnerved her. Her hands trembled. The sudden urge to flee coursed through her veins, but she was frozen. As she watched, the raven opened its beak, as if speaking. Then, it flapped its wings and lifted into the morning sky.

  Nora didn’t move until her computer “beeped” its incoming mail sound.

  Chapter Eight-

  The email reminded Nora that her meeting would start in ten minutes. She logged onto the meeting site and prepared her presentation. The process took longer than usual because her trembling fingers didn’t find the keys as readily as normal. Still, the work was beneficial. She forced herself to focus on NIGHT OF THE DEAD instead of Hellfleet and Elija Ravenwo
od. The online meeting lasted for two hours, and it was approaching lunch time when it ended. Grabbing her cup, Nora started for the kitchen. She was ravenous.

  Bowl of soup?” Erma asked.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Nora answered.

  Taking a seat at the table, Nora pulled out her phone and reviewed her texts. Most were from Felix, and they were both informative and dear. She knew he was making time for her.

  She answered the texts and assured him all was well at Hellfleet —even if it wasn’t. The last thing she wanted was to make him worry.

  As Nora stirred the soup to cool it, Erma left for the day. Nora, surprisingly felt a pang of disappointment.

  Work is work I suppose.

  It wasn’t just that she enjoyed having Erma around. Erma had her feet on the ground and Nora found her solid personality calming. Looking up from her phone, she spotted the bird, the raven, perched on a window sill. Was it giving her the evil eye? This one took flight immediately, making Nora feel better. She thought that now that she knew the story from Erma’s perspective, the birds would lose their fear factor. Really, what harm could birds do?

  As the first wave of rain slashed the windows, she added a dollop of whiskey to her tea and headed for her office. She really needed to relax a bit. Feeling a bit warmer for the whiskey, she plopped into her chair and tapped a key. The screensaver was quickly replaced by a message.

  The words VEUVE AMIOT filled the screen.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  For a moment, Nora couldn’t believe her eyes. She blinked several times, wondering how the words came to be on her screen. She had no idea what the words meant, but she was pretty sure the message hadn’t been generated by the computer. It was nothing she could ever remember seeing or hearing. What the bloody hell was Veuve Amiot?

  She began to shake. Automatically, she looked over her shoulder, half expecting to find… well, she didn’t quite know, what she had expected to find.

  The room was empty, the door empty. Whoever had left the message wasn’t around to see her reaction. Wait, was she alone? Erma was gone. Wasn’t she?

  Nora was near to tears. Someone or someone was messing with her. Well maybe. But couldn’t it just be a virus on the computer?

  Feeling emboldened by her logic, Nora put her fears to bed.

  She would search, and assure herself, no one was here. And if they were… She grabbed her mug and stood up.

  Searching the cottage was easy and quick. She found no one. For a moment, she considered climbing through the tower to check the lamp room, but with the storm, she didn’t find that appetizing. It would be slippery and blustery up there. Instead, she locked the door to the tower.

  Satisfied she was alone in the cottage, she returned to her office. She had no sooner found her chair before the fishy, sea-weedy smell wafted around her.

  It was the same seaweed odour as before, but that couldn’t be. The hairs on Nora’s neck rose up as a gnawing feeling entered her belly. Please don’t let it be. Standing slowly, she made her way to the spare bedroom and came to an abrupt halt.

  In front of her was the trunk lying open, and one worn, brown boot sat on the bed. Nora’s legs felt like jelly and her breath, sounded ragged and loud.

  How could that be? She had just checked the room, and everything had been in its place.

  No one was in the cottage with her, she had searched, and the only person with a key was Erma. Another explanation wormed into her brain. Woody, a small voice whispered inside her head. Woody is here. She shivered from head to toe.

  She started to back away but stopped. The air had cleared, the smell was gone. She walked over, picked up the boot, and, tentatively put it to her nose, and sniffed.

  No smell. But that still didn’t explain what it was doing out of the trunk.

  Angry, she stuffed the boot back into the trunk. Furious, she shoved the trunk under the bed and stormed from the room. She marched into the middle of the big room. She looked around as rain hammered the windows.

  “I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE,” she shouted. “BUT I WILL BE BLOODY WELL DAMNED BEFORE I LET YOU CHASE ME FROM MY HOME! I’M WARNING YOU. WHEN I FIND YOU, AND I WILL, I’M GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU NEVER BOTHER ANYONE ELSE AGAIN!!”

  Although the shouting made her feel better, she wasn’t certain it had done any good. She had no way to punish a ghost, did she?

  She ran to her office. She slid into her seat and stared at the screensaver wondering what to do. As she wondered, the screen saver refreshed. Long columns of VEUVE AMIOT filled all three screens. Nora opened her mouth and screamed.

  Chapter Nine

  After a moment, and nothing more had happened, Nora retrieved the whiskey bottle from the cabinet. She placed it on her work table and cleared the screens. Then, she quickly did an Internet search on Veuve Amiot.

  What did a 1930s champagne have to do with this old lighthouse? It was a good champagne with a world-renowned poster, and that was all it was. Nothing better than a dozen other champagnes from the era. So, why would someone fill her screens with its name? She grabbed the whiskey and turned away.

  Outside, the worst of the storm had passed, leaving a light rain that she guessed would soon end.

  She sipped whiskey directly from the bottle and tried to work out what was happening and why.

  If Woody were real, if he haunted the place, what connection did he have to a champagne from before the second world war? That didn’t make sense. And if he wanted to, wouldn’t he just try to kill her.

  Maybe he was trying. She’d slipped on a fish and hurt her head ON A FISH – A FISH ON THE FLOOR OF AN UNUSED BEDROOM. Perhaps, now he was just messing with her mind.

  Of course, it could be that she was cracking up, taking a walk off the deep end, losing it in some fashion. Perhaps the game had seeped into her psyche and was creating visions that weren’t there. Perhaps, she had pulled the boot from the trunk and left it so she could find it and become frightened afresh. Without Felix around, how could she ensure that she was in touch with reality? Was she going mad? She put down the bottle and pushed away from the table. Nora didn’t believe the answer was in the computer or the Internet. The answer was somewhere else, and she didn’t have a clue as to where it might be. She pushed to the table again, printed out an image of the Vevue Amiot poster, and left the room.

  Dusk arrived as Nora drove to St. George. After parking, she splashed her path through the myriad of puddles to the pub.

  Grabbed a pint on her way past the bar; Duncan winked in greeting. She slid into a booth and waited. She didn’t wait long before Duncan joined her.

  “Back for more?” Duncan asked.

  “Let’s suppose,” Nora began. “Let’s suppose that Hellfleet is really haunted. The question becomes how do we un-haunt it?”

  Duncan rubbed his red nose and closed one eye, as if thinking.

  “I don’t know of anyone who ever tried to ‘un-haunt’ Hellfleet. I mean, I don’t know of anyone who brought in a priest or something.”

  At that moment, Erma ambled into the pub. Nora spotted her and stood.

  “Erma! Over here.”

  Duncan stood and allowed Erma to slide into the booth. Even as she did, the barmaid delivered ale for Duncan.

  “You trying to take the girls money off her?” Erma quipped. “You’re a cunning one, sly as a fox, got her thinking and talking about those old wives’ tales, so she’ll come back here and buy you a pint for the rest of the night.”

  “I pass on only what I’ve heard my whole life” Duncan protested. “I don’t make up a single adjective, verb, or noun.”

  “All right, all right,” Nora interjected. “Let’s get past all that. As I was asking Duncan, what if Hellfleet is haunted? What do we do about it?”

  “So, you’ve come to that conclusion?” Erma asked.

  “It’s either haunted, or you’re trying to drive me out for some reason.”

  “I have no reason to drive you anywhere,” Erma said, her face drawn up indignantl
y. “In fact, having someone in the Fleet makes me quid.”

  Duncan gave a smug smile, “Well, you’ll have to admit that I’m – and –she,” he pointed his finger at Nora, “is right, won’t you Erma? And, as far as I know,” Duncan added. “No one is clamorin’ to move into Hellfleet. And for what it’s worth” he continued, “I don’t think old Erma would drive you out.”

  Erma, huffed. “Well at least you’re right about that.”

  Nora ignored the antics.

  “Then, there’s a presence. How do we get rid of it?”

  Erma and Duncan looked at each other and then at Nora.

  “I suppose we have to determine what this… spirit wants,” Duncan said.

  “If you ask me,” Erma said. “I think you need some sort of religious intervention. Maybe the pastor can drive it out.”

  Nora picked up her glass and sipped. She wasn’t yet convinced she needed an exorcist. She had a ghost, not a demon. If she could figure out what it wanted, perhaps it would leave her in peace.

  “What would Woody want with an old, brown boot and Vevue Amiot champagne?” she asked. Erma and Duncan both frowned, and Nora understood that they didn’t know about the boot.

  For the next hour, Erma, Duncan, and Nora discussed Hellfleet, Ravenwood, and the brown boot. Nora heard more stories about cheeky ravens and frigid drafts on the hottest summer days and the cries of drowning sailors. But neither Erma nor Duncan had ever heard of a brown boot or the champagne.

  As far as they knew, the Wipford wasn’t carrying any wine or spirits, just silk and tea. At the end, though, Nora seemed no closer to a solution then before. The only agreement between the three was that perhaps the ghost wanted something or needed something.

  “Sometimes, spirits can’t rest until they’re whole,” Erma said.

  “I’ve heard of the ghosts of soldiers who roam the fields of battle looking for an arm or leg or head perhaps.” Duncan’s eyes were as round as saucers and glazed from beer.

  “You old fool,” Erma said. “Woody didn’t lose his head that night.”