Wyndham Hall

by Midge Cline

  “What in God’s name is that?” Colt said softly, automatically placing his hand out to stop her from moving. She followed his gaze over her shoulder in time to see a fleeting shape of light and smoke travel across the path beside them. If she had reached out, she could have touched its soft white gauziness. They held their breath in unison as the form made its way along the grass to the decaying headstones of the graveyard.

  Binne aimed the video camera carefully, watching through the viewfinder to ensure the glow was in the shot always. She subconsciously checked twice to make sure the equipment’s recording light was on.

  A low mist twirled around their feet, rooted in place as they were. The shape hovered above a small, broken headstone. Binne felt her feet move, as if of their own volition, toward the light, while a cold chill ran a race down her spine. Colt whispered in useless caution to stop her. She stepped with slow precision, like a hunter stalking prey. The form never leaving her camera’s digital screen. The shape stayed over the crumbled stone as Binne neared it. Her sharp intake of breath was audible as it dove with astonishing speed into the rock, vanishing into the simple carved granite.

  “It’s gone!” Colt exclaimed quietly. He felt as if his feet had been released from bindings, and he ran as quickly as he dared to be at her side.

  Binne dropped to her knees before the headstone, the top of which had been reduced to crumble over the centuries. Faded, eroded letters which had once created full words were still visible on the surface, just barely.

  “Sir J n Wyn m” and a partial year sometime in the 1400’s, see how the numbers are gone,” She pointed out. “This must be Sir John’s headstone. I expected it to be bigger.”

  “A small headstone made for a man who had disgraced the family?” Colt offered.

  “Could be. Do you think that was his ghost?” She asked, a slight bit of fear in her trembling voice.

  “Maybe, but why would he want to lead you here?” Colt asked.

  “Us.” She said, “it led us here.”

  “No, it led you.” He explained about the feeling of paralysis he felt back at the pond, about his trying to will his legs to allow him to follow her, and how they disobeyed his commands until the orb of light had vanished. “It wanted you to see this.”

  ****

  “Mal, have you any batteries?” Harry asked, “I just put fresh ones in at camp, I don’t understand it.” She tapped the Maglite against her palm, watching with dismay as the light flickered and died.

  Malcolm reached into his pocket and brought out a plastic baggie filled with batteries. He asked which size she needed and held his own light for her as she made the change, he took the drained ones and secured them into another baggie he had brought for the purpose.

  A chill wind encircled them as they moved toward the stables. Millie pulled an index card from her pocket and used her headlamp to scan the information she had scribbled there.

  “According to my research, there has been a stable here since the 1400’s, on this very spot. It has been torn down and rebuilt at least a dozen times since. But, always on the same spot.” She told them. “Harry and I hit the old library records this morning.”

  “Must be a good spot for horses.” Harry commented dryly.

  “It is,” Millie responded. “As it sits, a good distance from the house, so the smells and sounds do not interfere with daily life, but still just a quick walk to the front doors. Also, the field on the other side, between the stable and the barn, allows the cows and horses and sheep to run and feed as needed. The stables have been used for horses and cows as well as cars and motorbikes, depending on the owner’s needs. There is a small apartment in the loft above,” She pointed to a small window near the roof of the stable house. “That was renovated in the 1920’s, by the owner at the time, a stock broker named Wyatt Roberts and his wife Clarice. A mysterious fire had broken out in the night, destroying the stable that stood when they first moved in, so they had it rebuilt with an apartment for their young son and his bride. They sold up and moved on in 1934, after their daughter died in the house. She fell down the main stairs while rushing to breakfast on Christmas morning.” she read. “Her name was Lily. She was 10.”

  “Well, that isn’t creepy as feck.” Harry lifted her eyebrows. “Thanks for sharing.”

  “There have been some happy things too,” Millie added with haste. “There have been a couple of weddings held on the grounds, almost always by the stables, probably because the large field and the great view of both the house and the pond.” she glanced at her card, “In the last 5 decades alone there have been nearly three dozen! Binne’s family should be able to make a bundle off weddings and events.”

  “And ghost walks.” Malcolm added, his voice drawn out with a purposeful creepiness.

  “This place has serious creep factor in the daylight, I can’t say I am surprised to say it is tenfold in the dark.” Harry laughed.

  Shadows played with the torch light on the walls of the stable, dancing like a macabre ballet in the night.

  The stable had not homed animals in nearly a decade, yet the faint odor of hay and horse still lingered in the air. Stray strands of molded straw peeked from corners and small plants had diligently forced their way through the cracks of the packed dirt floor.

  “I feel as if,” Millie hesitated. “As if we are being watched.” They made their way to the center of the stable. The interior dark and foreboding.

  Malcolm used his torch to light the rafters above them. “Up there, my grandmother’s great Uncle Howard hung himself there in 1915. His wife had died of pneumonia and left him with four kids to raise. He wrote out his will, requiring the house to be sold. He said no-one of Wyndham blood should ever live on the estate again. He was a crazy loon, according to my grandma, said he saw ghosts all of the time and that they were trying to kill him.” Malcolm said softly.

  “Mal! I am so sorry, I forgot you were a Wyndham.” Millie exclaimed.

  “No, I am a descendant of the Wyndhams, but, I am a Winter.” He said with a pride bigger than his twelve years of age. “The Wyndhams are gone.”

  Millie put her hand on his shoulder in comfort. She knew the Wyndham name did not hold a place of pride for Malcolm, or anyone else in the village for that matter. A long line of tyrants had taken residence in the old Hall. The villagers had been terrorized for centuries by Malcolm’s ancestors. When the reign of terror had ended, most changed their names and tried to move on from a lineage of darkness.

  A loud knocking sound echoed through the stables.

  Knock knock knock.

  “What the ever living heckfire was that?” Malcolm nearly screamed, flashing his light around the room seeking the source of the eerie noise.

  “I... I... I am sure it is just the wind. Maybe hitting a branch against the outside wall.” Harry said sounding calmer than she felt.

  “There are no trees near enough to the stable to do that.” Mille told her as they all turned instinctively to place their backs together so they could face the space around them. Their lights trained against the engulfing darkness.

  Knock knock knock knock

  The sound grew louder, almost as if it were closing in on them.

  “Mil.” Harry whispered. “I think now would be a good time to tell you I love you like a sister.”

  “I am your sister.” Millie told her with a calm laugh.

  “I hope the audio is picking all of this up.” Malcolm interrupted. “The night vision on the camera does not seem to be picking up anything at all. “I think we should inch our way toward the doorway,”

  “We cannot just leave!” Harry said firmly. “This is our chance to prove the existence of ghosts.”

  A soft cackling laughter sounded through the chilled stable air. The children pressed their bodies closer together, never allowing their backs to separate from each other, a small whimper escaping one of them. Which one they could never recall.

  Suddenly Malcolm shouted. “I order you to show yoursel
f or leave the land of my ancestors. Cowards will not be permitted here on Wyndham land.” His voice and body portrayed a courage he knew was only a thin facade. “Show yourself or leave us be!”

  He demanded.

  Shadows, black and ominous screeched around them, the teens breath now visible before them as the temperature dropped to icy levels.

  “My family has left the estate.” Malcolm announced. “I am not responsible for the actions of their past, as you are not responsible for the actions of your descendants. Leave and allow this new family to live on in peace here.” He ordered. The air laughed in response. Not a normal, joyful laugh, but a cold, dark laugh filled with menace and hatred. The sound of a thousand angry children.

  Pain burned through Malcolm’s arm as slashes appeared to slice through his coat and shirt, leaving bloody gashes in his tender young flesh. He fought the urge to cry out with every fiber of his young being.

  “You will leave. Now.” Malcolm ordered the darkness.

  ****

  Binne and Colt waited in the graveyard for a few moments. Nothing further happened. No odd noise, lights or coldness. They decided to move along down the path.

  “So guests would have come in the main gates at the far end of the drive just off the road.” Binne said. “They would have travelled along the road to the main house, passing the cemetery and seeing the graveyard here by the trees before the Hall came into view.”

  “Yes, and I understand the hangings would have been set up over there in that patch of grass, by the old tree stump.” Colt agreed. “Some previous owner must have chopped it down a long time ago. I think they probably hung people from it.” He pointed to a large round stump of an old Elm tree.

  “Must have been a beautiful tree.” Binne noticed. “It was certainly a large one.” The stump was nearly three feet high and nearly six feet across.

  “I bet it was cut down because it was used for hanging.” Colt advised. “That would be the reason I would have cut it down.”

  Binne nodded as a shiver voyaged through her body.

  “Cold?’ Colt asked.

  “Not really. Just amped up I think.” She answered honestly while trying to watch her step through the mist that continued to travel on the ground before them. “I am not sure what just happened at the graveyard. It’s like I imagined the whole thing, in fact if you weren’t with me I would have convinced myself I made it all up. It all seems so surreal.”

  “I know, me too.” Colt agreed. His brows furrowed together as the mist seemed to expand and crawl up their legs. “I think we got it all on video, I really hope it turns out.”

  “I ran a quick playback, it is there.” She tapped the camera in her hand. “And it is still running. What is with this creepy fog?”

  “I don’t know, it seems to be getting thicker. Maybe we should head back to camp.” Binne agreed with him and they began to look in the distance for the shape of the old Hall, so they could get their bearings. ” Nearly can’t see the house through this crap.”

  Binne checked the compass she wore around her neck. “Well the house is this direction, and you can just see the tower.”

  She led the way back toward the camp. The mist hindering them, causing them to move slowly along the path to avoid small holes and nature’s debris along the cobblestone walkway.

  “Mal! Millie! Harry!” Colt called out as they neared the campsite. They could see Malcolm kneeling by the fire pit, feeding it logs and bringing it to life as the mist appeared to clear a path for them.

  “Here!” Harry called out from her chair by the fireside.

  “Holy fog, Batman.” Millie said around a mouthful of almonds. “We almost couldn’t find the campsite.”

  “It sure came up fast. I wonder how long it will stay.” Binne said. “It doesn’t seem to be as bad here, probably the fire and the torches.”

  “Yeah the light will break through the fog, as long as it isn’t too thick.” Malcolm’s ‘science brain’ kicked in and he started to explain light versus fog using long ‘ten dollar’ words.

  “Can it Winters,” Harry said with a laugh. “We really just don’t care enough about that.”

  She turned to Colt and Binne, “So, wait ‘til you hear what happened in the stables. It was freak city. And Malcolm grew a giant ball sack, might want to have him checked out by the doc when this is over.”

  They spent the next hour telling each other of their adventures while Binne connected the cameras to the laptop and downloaded the video and audio recordings.

  “We can watch these later, but I want to make sure they are on here and safe.” She told them.

  “Oh My God!” Millie cried out as she pointed to a light bouncing in the fog. “Whatever that is-- it is coming right for us!”

  The five children stood in terror as they watched the orb of light move ever closer, as it neared they could barely discern a shape behind it. A dark manly shape.

  The small group screamed out loud when the familiar voice called out to them.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you guys, sorry.” Nigel apologized as he came into view, breaking out of the fog. “Just wanted to check on you, the fog came up pretty fast. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t been caught out there.” he pointed toward the graveyard. Binne ran to her father and gave him a large and welcome hug.

  “You are the best dad ever!” She informed him. “We are fine now. We were all out there in it when it started. But we are safe now.”

  “Malcom, what happened to your arm?” Nigel’s observant eyes had noticed the gashes and the blood, concern took over his face.

  All the children began to talk at once before Binne finally said.

  “Here,” she handed him her laptop. “It will be easier this way.”

  Nigel took a seat beside them and they huddled around his shoulders.

  “Wow.” He said when they had finished. “I know you guys are not little kids and all that, but I am thinking maybe you should come and spend the rest of the night in the big house. With this fog and all. We can come take down the camp in the morning, just grab your knapsacks.”

  The teens all stopped moving and stared at each other silently for a moment.

  “You can all go in if you like.” Binne said. “But I am staying out here. I wasn’t raised to run from a fight, even one with a couple of ghosts. I am not afraid of ghosts, Dad, or fog or darkness for that matter.”

  “Binne,” He began.

  “I am staying too.” Colt said, not wanting to be upstaged by a girl one full year his junior.

  “I will not let Binne stay out here alone.”

  “We are staying too,” The Truman twins said simultaneously. “Can’t let the younger kids have all the fun.”

  “I’d like to stay as well. We are really just planning to stay at the camp the rest of the night, since it is nearly midnight and all the fog makes it too dangerous for any of us to wander the grounds.” Malcolm said with confidence. Knowing that adults like to hear kids say responsible things about staying safe and making good decisions.

  Nigel looked at each child in turn, assessing them quietly before answering.

  “Fine. You can stay out here. But, you must promise to stay at the campsite if the fog is down. And you stick together. I am very proud of each of you. I know adults who would have fallen apart if they had faced what you did tonight.” He looked pointedly at Malcolm. He looked down at the laptop for a moment, clicked some keys on the keyboard and handed back to his daughter. “I’ve emailed those to myself, I will show them to your mom, Tate and Bonnie in the morning.”

  He thought for a long moment. “I might email them to a pal of mine at University, this is his current obsession. He may be able to help us send the ghosts along to the other side or whatever. He will know what can be done.”

  “Thanks Dad. Uncle Dex will know what to do. You know you are my favorite human being in the universe.” Binne smiled.

  “And you are my favorite human becoming.” He said as he placed a kiss o
n her forehead. Turning to the others he said. “The main door is unlocked, come in if you get too…. cold.”

  “Human becoming?” Harry asked.

  “Yeah, my dad has a theory that children are ‘becoming’ humans, learning the ropes and the paths they will take as adults, ever changing and mutating, hence, human becomings. It is a long-standing thing.” She explained. “I know he is weird, but he is my Dad.”

  “I think your Dad is pretty fecking cool.” Millie said, and the others agreed.

  ****

  Nigel Morgan sat before his laptop watching the videos for at least the 100th time. The morning sun spilling light from the window across the kitchen table.

  “This is for real?” Gwynn felt every ounce of the terror that dripped from her voice. “And you let them stay out there!”

  “After the experience you two had in the house, at Binne’s bedroom door, I couldn’t see how being out there was much different from being in here.” He defended.

  “I agree.” Tate Brooks said. “The Hall ghosts do not seem to care if you are inside or out, if they want to mess with you, they will.” He took a chair across from Nigel.

  “We have a spare room for Binne, and an RV you two can stay in.” Bonnie offered.

  “I am not allowing the ghosts to chase us out.” Nigel was firm. “We have worked too hard for this dream. Besides, we promised Binne this would be the last time we moved, that the Hall would be her forever home. The one we leave her in our will, the one she raises her kids in. Dammit, I expect to keep that promise.”

  Gwynn placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can beat this. We have certainly faced worse. Remember Africa?”

  “Yeah, Africa was scary as hell.” Nigel laughed and kissed her hand. “I’ve emailed Dexter, he should get back to me soon. He has been studying paranormal science for a couple of decades now, if anyone can help, he can.”

  “Dexter is good people.” Gwynn added. “He is Binne’s Godfather. And was best man at our wedding. He is like a hippie with a few PHDs.” She laughed. “Do you think they will be in for breakfast?” She nodded toward the window to indicate the children. As if on cue the room suddenly filled with the sounds of half-awake teenagers. Binne made her way to the coffee pot and poured herself a generous cup with vanilla creamer. Colt handed out mugs of hot tea to the others.