We all love a Ghost Story, don't we? I have been busy working on my NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge which I finally finished about an hour ago, 17 hours before the deadline. As I am unable to share this until such time as all entries are in and confirmation emails received, I thought I would share my spooky story written last term at College. I may not be close to that novel yet, but I could probably produce a book of short stories, thanks to Creative Writing and all who attend.
Henry and the Others
Ralph looked at the old house, he had passed it every day since mother bought it, but today he was moving in. Mother had fallen in love with the dilapidated red-brick property with the fragile paned windows and had excitedly announced to Ralph and his father that this was her “project”. Father did little to resist her determination and Ralph was in awe of the towering decrepit house. He had only been once before and had stayed with Grandma whilst Mother began the renovation.
From the outside Ralph thought it to look exactly as before, this cheered him somewhat. He stroked the intricately carved brass door-knocker and banged hard three times. His mother appeared, flustered, happy, smeared with dust and shavings in her hair. “Ralph, you’re here, why on earth are you knocking my dear boy? This is your home now, come in darling, come in”.
As Ralph made his way into the vast hall, he wondered what on earth his mother had been doing for the last eight weeks. The entrance hall was roomy, airy and eerie. Whilst the front door was now firmly shut an uneasy breeze blew down the hallway and grasped at Ralph with a chilly touch. Its fingers circled around his body, tenderly fondling every inch of him as he huddled into his mother for warmth.
“Oh my sweet boy, come on in here where it’s warm” gathering him to her she lead him into the drawing room where a fire crackled and spat in the hearth. The floors and surfaces became dustier, the floorboards creaked into life and there was torn paper hanging off the walls everywhere that Ralph looked. The vintage furniture remained broken, unused, and superfluous. “Darling I have missed you. We are going to have the best time. Why don’t you take off your shoes and jacket and go and put them in your new bedroom. Top of the stairs, third door on the right. There are clean pyjamas under your pillow”.
Ralph walked cautiously up the walnut swirling staircase, his footfall muffled by the threadbare carpet whose pattern had become obscure through dirt and wear. He found his room instantly, it was exactly the same as it was in his other home, but bigger, much bigger. His toys and models all had pride of place on the prodigious panelled shelving his father had so lovingly built, along with his toy box which sturdily sat beneath the sash window which was more bare rotting wood than white paint. Ralph lead on his bed and drifted off to the muffled sounds of his mother fussing below.
Henry visited Ralph on his third night in the house. After dinner, he returned to his bedroom and found Henry sat on his bed. “Hello Ralph” he beamed up at the startled face before him.
“Who are you and what are you doing sat on my bed?” Ralph questioned.
Henry jumped up and stuck out an eager plump hand “I am Henry, it’s a pleasure to meet you Ralph”.
Ralph and Henry became firm friends and it was not too long afterwards that Henry introduced him to the others. They would play together in the attic with its low beams and borrowed light, intermittent between the dusty gems. Every one of them had been stored in battered boxes and garbage sacks for later use or enjoyment. In truth, it was a graveyard for these treasures, a place for them to quietly die amongst the cobwebs, tainted by mildew and dankness.
This didn’t bother Henry and the others, they would while away the hours, scourging for forgotten riches, laughing and playing in clouds of dust, the occasional rat scurrying from a forgotten crevice. Ralph excitedly told his mother about his new-found friends and she smiled, patted his head and whispered “that’s lovely Ralph, it’s nice you have made friends”.
“When is father coming” he asked.
“He will be with us soon Ralph, he just needs to tie-up some loose ends in the City” she mused.
This comforted Ralph, he missed his father and couldn’t wait for him to meet his friends.
It was a particularly cold autumn evening. Ralph and his friends were housed deep within the rafters watching the rain falling in crazy chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next, banging against the lichen laden slates, causing them to clatter and shake. Ralph giggled at the occasional droplet seeping through an exposed defect and landing on an oblivious Henry.
Through the vibrating voice of the rattling roof Ralph heard the crunch of tyres and jumped excitedly to his feet, standing on the tips of his toes so he could peer out of the attic window.
“It’s father” he yelled happily at the eager faces and scarpered from the roof space as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Father. Father, I’m here” he shouted, in time with his stampeding feet, but he didn’t seem to hear him and Ralph watched his father disappear into his bedroom. Ralph paused for a moment, confused and then made his way through the open door. His mother was lead sobbing upon Ralph’s bed, clutching his pyjamas, his father sat beside her, stroking her hair.
“What’s going on?” asked Ralph, but neither looked at him.
“My darling Evie, we need to go, leave here. You cannot stay holed up in this rotting house anymore, please Evie, come with me”.
“But he is here James, I hear him, I feel him all around me, I can’t leave him here all alone” she pleaded.
“Evie, Ralph is gone. You know deep in your heart that he is gone. You saw him fall from the attic window. You saw them take his broken body away. You were there Evie, eight weeks ago when we buried our darling boy with his Grandma. Oh, Evie please, I need you and you need me, we can get through this, but we need to do it together, it’s been two months and I can’t bear to be without you any more, please come home with me”.
Ralph started screaming “I am here. Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you hear me? I’M HERE” he tried to run toward them but he couldn’t move. Henry and the others appeared and held on to him tight. He watched as his parents sat holding each other, rocking, weeping and eventually his father picked up his mother in his arms and took her from the Ralph’s room.
All that was left were Henry and the others.
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