“Some friend you are,” she managed and the cat closed its eyes and seemed to be instantly asleep.
If only!
Rosie lay there trying to think of her book and to get involved in the story. If she could do it, then her mind would relax and she would soon be tired. Yet, it was so hard. Everything had felt so real and yet it couldn’t be. Gradually the minutes turned to hours as she tossed and turned on the bed. Each time she started to drift, she saw the couple before her in the most vivid detail and she jerked back awake.
At least it appeared that her imagination was working well. Fingers crossed, she should be able to get plenty of writing done tomorrow and yet she knew that was just a wish. Being this tired she would be lucky if she could string a sentence together.
Sighing, she rolled over once more. The cat raised its ears and stared at her dolefully.
“I know,” she snapped and it simply closed its eyes and turned away from her.
Typical.
Closing her own eyes, she started to drift but then something yanked her back to the room and this time it was not the dream. There were no visions of people in hoods and no scent of aftershave. A noise had woken her and she strained her ears while holding her breath to try and make out exactly what it was.
Instantly awake her heart was pounding once more. Her pulse raced in her ears and the room seemed to buzz. It took but moments to realize that she was starting to hyperventilate and she slowed her breathing.
There it was again.
The sound of footsteps on the hard floor outside her room. No, not outside but further up the corridor. They were walking towards the kitchen.
Who was it?
Fear clawed at her throat and she started to choke. Then she realized that she had been holding her breath and she let out some air. The panic eased a little bit but still, she had to know who was in the house.
The sound of whispers could be heard all around her and coming from deep underground she could hear singing... no it was chanting... the sort you heard in horror films. It was the sound of devil worship.
For a moment she almost laughed. Her imagination must be running away with her. This had to be a dream. So she reached across and pinched her arm.
“Ouch!”
It left a red welt on the skin and looked real enough.
What should I do?
A child’s scream pierced the night. Before she could even think she was up and running. Logical thought had left her, she could not leave a child in pain or distress. Maybe it was because the sound of a child crying had haunted her childhood. Many a night she lay awake listening to screams and cries through paper thin walls. Confused and scared, she would burrow under the blankets and cover her ears. She wanted to go get help, to tell someone but the shouting and screams frightened her so much that she could not even move.
Lying beneath the blankets she would stay as still as she could until the noise died down and she could breathe once more. By morning, she had convinced herself that it was just a nightmare and so she never mentioned it.
It was only after she grew up that she discovered the neighbor was hurting his little girl. Her parents had tried to help the little neighbor girl but no one believed them in time. Even now, some nights she lay awake wondering if she could have done more. If only she had gone to help. If only she had said something. Well this time she could. Maybe this time she could save a life.
Forgetting her own fear, she was at the door in just a few steps and out into the corridor without hesitation.
The scream still rang in the air and yet she knew it must have stopped. Quickly she ran along the corridor.
As she reached the hallway, she was grabbed from the side. Ice-cold fingers dug into her wrist and pulled her to a halt. Whipped around, she turned to face the same woman. The one with the dark cloak and the empty eyes. A gaunt face surrounded those eyes. It was pale and thin to the point of being almost skeletal. Though it was hard to tell her age, she had to be old and for a moment Rosie wanted to say, Matron!
The thought left her as the woman opened her mouth and began to scream a silent scream. A rush of foul air covered her and Rosie tried to pull back choking on the scent of decay. It was like rotten pond water, full of decomposed debris and accompanied by a festering stench.
The child’s scream rang through the night once more. It was the sound of such fear and pain and she could not ignore it. Rosie fought to escape. She had to save this child. She had to, and she pulled with all her might.
The woman clung on to her wrist and Rosie felt a sharp pain. She stopped and looked down as she felt warm liquid wash over her hand.
Where the woman had hold of her was covered in red. Beneath the flood of blood she could see long black filthy claws of nails dug into her skin. They had sliced through her wrist and into her veins and her life’s blood was draining away. It gushed from her wrists and poured onto the hardwood floor. It was too fast, too much.
Pulling with all her might, Rosie fought to escape. She couldn’t remember why but she knew it was important. The nails loosened on her skin and she started to move. Elation filled her until her knees buckled. The sensation of floating was almost pleasant. A little like being drunk. Then she saw the floor coming up to meet her face.
For an instant she wondered if it would hurt. She never found out, for she was unconscious before she even hit the floor.
6
Blood, pain, claw like fingernails, blackened and covered in blood. Her blood. Images flashed before her eyes and she was falling. Down, down, without the chance of stopping. Her heart had plunged before her and air rushed past.
“No!”
She woke with a start. Jerking up in the bed to see bright sunlight filtering through the thick drapes. The cat was curled up on the bed. It raised its sleek black head and stared at her with those amazing orange eyes.
Pulling her own eyes away, she stared down at her wrist. Expecting to see a gash there and the remnants of dried blood. There was nothing... nothing at all.
“What the...”
It must have been a dream. Just a dream. So much for not dreaming when she took a sleeping tablet. Slowly she got out of bed. Her pajamas were soaked in sweat. It looked like it had been quite a night. Quickly, she hit the shower. Had there been a washing machine in the kitchen? She couldn’t remember but there must be, surely.
Soon she was dressed and she took her washing down to the kitchen followed by the cat. As the kettle boiled, she found the machine tucked away in the corner. It looked ancient but appeared to work.
The cat had finished his breakfast and was staring up at the door. Rosie opened it and looked out at the garden. It was lovely. Rows of salad and vegetables were surrounded by roses. Behind the garden were the outbuildings and to one side was a little table and chairs.
Making some tea and toast she stepped out into the garden. The cat was sunning himself near the table and she settled down to join him. It felt good to feel the sun on her face. This was what she needed. Once the toast was finished she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The sun warmed her skin. It felt glorious. There was no noise, no banging doors, or squealing wheels. No angry piping or shouting of kids. It was peaceful, there was nothing to disturb her. Nothing! There was no birdsong, no breeze. It was almost as if she was in a vacuum. Then she imagined the woman from her dreams. The empty eyes and black maw of a mouth. The prominent cheek bones that seemed to push against paper thin skin.
A shadow crossed her face and she opened her eyes with a scream.
“I’m so sorry.” Standing over her, silhouetted by the sun was a man.
Rosie pushed her chair back and almost toppled over as she scrambled to escape. Why was she seeing him?
A hand reached out for her and she stepped back to avoid contact.
“I’m so sorry if I scared you. Please be calm. My name is Nickolas, Nick Aubrey. I’m the local priest.”
“Priest!” Rosie stopped backing up and looked at the man. As her ey
es began to focus, she stepped to the side to see through the sunlight. The man before her was around thirty with short dark hair and a friendly, if a little-amused smile. He was wearing an old fashioned black suit with a dog collar. He was a priest. “I’m sorry,” she said and walked back to the table. Her hand went to the scar on her face but she quickly pulled it away. “I must have been dreaming and I never expected anyone out here. It is so remote you see.”
“I know,” he said.
“Can I invite you in, offer you a tea? Or perhaps some cake?”
Nick looked up at the house and something crossed over his face. “Tea and cake would be lovely... but why don’t we sit in the sunshine.”
Rosie nodded. “Just give me a moment then,” she said as she pointed to the seats.
Rosie almost ran back into the house. What was wrong with her, screaming because she had a visitor and all these nightmares? Maybe she had made the wrong decision. Maybe she should call Amy and leave? Yet it was only a few more days until her friend would come and see her. She could surely manage until then.
With the tea made and two slices of cake on plates, she took a breath and went back out to the garden.
“Here we go.”
“Thank you,” he said as he took the tray from her and placed it on the table. “How are you finding the place?”
“It’s beautiful. I’m a writer of historical romance so a house like this is a dream for me.” Though she said the words with confidence, she shuddered a little as she remembered just what those dreams were filled with.
“The taxi driver told me about you,” Nick said. “I live not too far from here and so I just wanted to walk over and see how you were.”
“That was very kind. I didn’t know there were any properties nearby. It makes me feel a little better actually.”
“Oh, has there been any trouble or anything strange happen?”
Rosie took a sip of tea and raised her eyebrows. Did he know? “No, nothing,” she said and pushed the vision from her mind. “Please, eat your cake.”
Nick picked up his cake and took a tiny bite.
Suddenly, Rosie was hungry. She guessed it must be stress or maybe the tablets she was taking. Though she had just had her toast, she took a bite of the cake. It was moist and delicious, but as she chewed, something wriggled in her mouth. Her throat tightened and the food lodged against her larynx. There she could feel something moving and she began to choke. The more she coughed the more her throat tightened and soon she was struggling to breathe. Tortured lungs screamed as tears came to her eyes. Though she tried to suck air nothing happened and her throat constricted even further.
Before she knew it Nick had put his arms around her and performed the Heimlich maneuver. As he squeezed, the cake was ejected from her throat and landed on the table. Crawling around inside of the gooey mess was a black maggot.
Rosie saw the insect and turned throwing up her toast and tea over the lettuce plants. Shakily she sank down into the chair. All she wanted to do was cry and yet, she would not break down in front of a stranger.
“Here.”
She turned to see him handing her a crisp white handkerchief.
“Thank you... I ... I’m so sorry... what is that?” Clutching onto the handkerchief she wiped her mouth.
“Here, sip your tea. It will help.”
He was kneeling at her side and holding the cup. Rosie took a sip but found it hard to swallow. There was a maggot in the food! She couldn’t stay here, she wouldn’t stay here... and yet she must. If she ran away again she got the feeling that she would be running for all her life. She had to make a stand. Maybe the food was just old.
“I know this was very traumatic,” he said. “However, it is not as bad as you think. That was just a pantry moth larvae. They are harmless. All you need to do is throw away any food that is not sealed and wash the pantry with a mixture of water, vinegar, and peppermint oil. Then if you put bay leaves on the shelves it will help to deter the moths. Country living... I’m afraid it can be colorful.”
“Bay leaves,” was all she could manage as she thought about how her throat had closed up. How she had almost choked to death.
“Yes.” He pointed across the garden at a green bush with rubbery looking leaves. “That is a bay, grab handfuls of the leaves and leave them around the pantry. You look quite pale, have you had any other strange experiences?”
Rosie wanted to tell him. To confess about the dreams and yet she didn’t want to be judged. So far she had done nothing but scream in his presence and it mattered to her that he didn’t think she was neurotic. “No, nearly choking to death on a pantry moth and being scared by a priest is enough for one day.”
His laugh was a nice sound in the sunshine. “I imagine it is, but as I said, you are not the first and this is not an uncommon event in the country.”
Rosie took another sip of tea and then topped up both of their cups. How could he say that? How could such creatures be in the food in the 21st Century? “Can you tell me a bit about the house?”
The smile slipped off his face and he returned to his seat. “What would you like to know?”
“As I said, I’m a writer and so any history could give me a flavor and an authenticity to add to my book.”
“What did you say you wrote?”
“Historical romance.”
“Well the house has a colorful history, but I’m not sure that it would suit your genre. You see it used to be a children’s home, an orphanage I guess you would call it. Though from what I’ve heard a work house would be a better description. There are those who say that dark sacrifices were made in the basement. That it was a place used for devil worship.”
“It has a basement?”
“Yes I believe so.”
“Perhaps you can tell me more,” she asked, for she felt that it was important. Maybe these dreams were her picking up on the energy of the house. Picking up on the residual pain that had been left there.
“I don’t know a lot more to tell you, I’m afraid. I really just came here to make sure that you were all right. That nothing strange had happened. I was worried, you see.”
“No, I’m fine,” Rosie said and yet she was strangely disturbed by his manner. It was almost as if he wanted something strange to have happened.
“Then I should go and leave you in peace.” He stood and looked a little ill at ease. “My home is less than a mile in that direction,” he said pointing across the garden. “If you need anything, anytime day or night, come and see me.”
“Of course, thank you and I’m sorry about the cake.”
“Do not let it bother you. If I may, before I go, may I say a blessing?”
Rosie felt disturbed that he would ask and she did not know how to answer and so she simply nodded.
Nick turned and walked up to the house. As he stood before it, he made the sign of the cross and closed his eyes. “Bless this house, o Lord, we pray. Make it safe by night and day. Bless these walls so firm and stout, Keeping trouble and spirits out. Amen.”
Rosie found the poetic rhythm of the blessing amusing. For a moment she had to suppress a giggle and yet as she watched him turn and walk away... the day felt just a little colder.
7
The priest hadn’t been gone for more than five minutes and yet Rosie could not face going back into the house. She had already thrown away the cake and the remains of the maggot ridden piece. It was not as easy to discard the taste... the feeling, and her stomach constantly gurgled at the very thought of it.
The priest’s manner had upset her. He seemed obsessed with there being something wrong. If she let herself dwell on it, she would wonder if there really was something wrong with the house. Was there somebody here? Or was it something worse… was something wrong with the place… dare she think... was it haunted?
Shaking the thoughts aside she knew she had to do something. One problem with the creative mind was it liked to create. If she did not keep it busy her mind would find problems w
here there were none. She had been through so much. It was understandable that she was having nightmares. Maybe, it was even understandable that she was hearing and seeing things that simply were not there. Yet, as she sat here in this deadly quiet garden she could not shake the thought that she was being watched. Where were the birds? Why were they not singing?
Once more, she turned to look around. Trying to be as casual as she could and yet there was no one there. Why would there be?
Movement in one of the upper windows jerked her from her thoughts. She searched, where had it come from? It seemed to be the right corner of the house. Looking at it she felt uneasy. As if someone was looking back. As if they were hiding and yet it was impossible to see in. The light seemed to reflect off the window as if it meant to prevent her from discovering the secrets behind. Only this was just a foolish fantasy created by a tired mind. A mind that had been pushed to breaking point. Occasionally she saw shadows moving in the glass. The first time she had gasped and clutched onto her chest and yet soon, she discovered, it was just the clouds reflecting on the mirrored surface.
What was she to do? She sat there a few more moments and decided that there was at least one job that had to be done.
Getting up she walked across to what she hoped was the bay tree. It was shaped like a triangle. Neatly clipped and obviously looked after. The glossy leaves all perfectly cared for and it seemed a shame to pull them from such a beautiful plant. Then she thought about the maggot, the larva and how it wriggled against her tonsils. Reflexively, her body retched.
Ignoring the feeling she reached out for the bay leaves and pulled a few from the bush. The air was filled with the gentle fragrance of oregano or at least something a little similar. There was something about it that was clean and refreshing and she pulled off more and more leaves. Holding the bottom of her T-shirt, she filled it with leaves. The action of ripping them from the tree was cathartic and she started to feel better. Once she could hold no more, she set off back to the kitchen.
The Ghosts of RedRise House Page 5