Marcasite Waves

Twisted

2008-10-13T17:08:00.000+01:00

He began to regret his decision to cut through the dell on his way home. He almost wished that he had refused that last drink and taken a taxi.

The leather soles of his shoes kept slipping on the uneven stone strewn surface of the makeshift pathway he was attempting to pick his way over. There was enough daylight to visually make his way through; the problem was the amount of rain that had fallen throughout the night. What was usually a reasonable cinder path had been transformed into a ribbon of mud.

He was about halfway through his reckless dawn trek when he consciously acknowledged the singing. At first, he thought that his mind was playing tricks on him and that it was some kind of insect. After a while, he realised that it was definitely singing although no matter how hard he tried he could not make out the words or any tune come to that. There seemed to be a number of voices and they never grew any closer or further away. He made a mental decision not to think too much about the surrealism of it all until he arrived home.

In doing so he lost his concentration and footing, he felt his heart race and the adrenalin flow as his right foot slipped from underneath him and his ankle twisted with the strain. Reaching out he grasped at a blackberry bush close by.

“Bugger!” he exclaimed as a sharp thorn sliced through the delicate skin between his thumb and forefinger. “Just my flecking luck!”

Instinctively he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked the wound tenderly; the warm fresh blood and sweet juice of the berries acted as a spur and he decided to step slightly off the path and continue over the short carpet of grass and plants that edged it. It was a good decision and he was able to improve his speed marginally even though his ankle ached sorely and he didn’t need to look at it to know that it was swollen. He made a mental note to bathe it before he went to bed.

Ten minutes later he came to an abrupt standstill when he recognised the devil blackberry bush he had tackled earlier.

“Well I'll be damned!”

He turned sharply when he heard the scurrying and giggles behind him. He made a mental note not to scream and then carried on regardless.

1. Happenings

2008-10-01T15:00:00.007+01:00

The beginning

I feel uneasy writing about the house and the happenings that have taken place here but I am prompted by the events that others have been writing about over the past eight months or so and more recently this week. Where do I begin with our story? I suppose like all stories with the beginning and go on from there.

I was not looking for the house; I stumbled across it one day close to Easter. It was shortly after my father had died and I was out on my own walking. I had driven here or rather I started to drive and ended up in this vicinity. Having parked my car on the far side of the dell I commenced my walk through its familiar pathways enjoying the dancing river, waterfalls and spectacular scenery. I came up through the other side of the dell as I had done many times previously and there, quiet unexpectedly, I saw what is now our house amongst a handful of other newly built homes. That was fifteen perhaps sixteen years ago.

The houses had at that time, been recently built in the grounds of a much larger house which is around 200 years old, I have the exact date the main house was built written down somewhere. As the area where we live is a conservation area the houses are built in honey coloured stone and the trees that once were in the garden of the main house remain and now form part of the gardens for the newer homes. I am not an expert on trees so I do not know their age but I know that they all have a preservation order on them and I would suspect that they are probably as old as the main house itself.

The houses were built in such a way that they did not stand out then or indeed now as new to the area but of course, knowing the area I knew them to be so. Attention had been paid to detail and the quality of the build was easy for even a novice like myself to recognise. It may help if you picture the development in terms of a clock face with the main house at 12 o’clock and the main entrance to all the homes including the main house is at 9 o’clock. Our house is at 3 o’clock. The main entrance is flanked by a pair of black and gold wrought iron gates and I found myself walking through them and straight to the house we now live in.

I found the builder as if he was waiting for me at the entrance to the house, which is unusually on the side of the building. I cannot remember how our conversation began but he informed me that he had purchased the main house and was already living in it with his family; he added that they had all settled well and intended to stay here. He went on to explain that all the houses had been sold and that he had been lucky that all the purchasers were making excellent neighbours. Things had been running smoothly right up until the last few days when one of the purchasers had unexpectedly dropped out just a couple of weeks prior to all the building work being completed.

I asked if I could have a look inside the house that the purchase had fallen through on. The builder informed me that we were standing in front of it and to feel free to take a look around. While I was looking he would wait in the garden until I had finished. We both thought that I was just window-shopping and as such we were both very much relaxed. I knew when I entered the house that I was going to live here and within an hour, we had agreed certain alterations to the layout and shook hands on the deal. Less than a month later my family and I had moved in.

The house is in a beautiful location sandwiched between the dell and the moors in a village that is not too small but a lot smaller than the town we had lived in previously. We settled in quickly but the children and for that matter our Jack Russell dog were uncertain about certain parts of the house. In the beginning, there was never really anything that you could put your finger on, a certain spot on the landing, a certain corner of a room, an occasional banging to the side of the house, a tap left running, a light switched on or something misplaced.

All these things can be explained and unlike when you are watching a film you do not think of leaving, it is your home and when there are four of you living in a house you put it down to one another’s forgetfulness. We would laugh that it must be the ghost and although the children had certain areas that they felt a bit uneasy in no one ever really thought that a new house like ours could be haunted and we never really felt uncomfortable, not then anyway.

After a few years, the builder and his family moved out of the main house and new owners moved in, there have been four owners in total since we have lived here. The main house is once again on the market.

So, that is the beginning of the story and we lived comfortably with our happenings until a little over six and half years ago. I shall leave it there for now as it is late and the others have already gone to bed. The house is quiet and I do not wish to disturb it, I shall write more tomorrow.

Part 2 ~ Cause For Concern

2. Happenings

2008-10-01T13:30:00.003+01:00

Cause for concern

Gradually, as time went by, we became accustomed to the house and I think that the house became comfortable with us. We stopped commenting when we found a tap running furiously, a previously closed door was found to be open or we felt for a brief moment that we were not alone in a room and that someone else was standing close by.

Perhaps the house wanted us to comment because occasionally it would stir us from our indifference. The first instance I can recall was probably around eight years ago when a laptop that was placed securely on the top of a wide level cabinet suddenly shot forward and fell off. During the course of its fall the laptop somehow managed to fall backwards into the glass frontage of the same cabinet. Both my youngest son and I had witnessed this event and he spent the following days if not weeks in an effort to work out how the accident could have possibly happened.

Later that same year when my youngest son was entertaining a young lady a heavy verdi gras lantern holding a burning candle suddenly lunged forward off a windowsill onto the floor. Once again he was fascinated by the event and investigated every possible way this could have happened. To say that his friend was shaken is an understatement; she was absolutely terrified and had to be calmed down, following that night she refused to be left alone in any part of the house for more than a few seconds at a time. We however, managed to carry on with life as normal.

Eventually, my eldest daughter left home, followed by my eldest son and only my youngest son and I remained. I began to spend more and more time in the house alone and sometimes became slightly uneasy. I would find myself waking in the middle of the night feeling like someone else was also in the room, sometimes I would hear someone moving around downstairs or suddenly hear a radio playing in a room that I had not entered for days. Perhaps everyone who finds themselves living alone for a short spell has similar experiences? Like everything else, apart from a few racing heartbeats in the first couple of minutes I learned to take it in my stride.

When my husband [who up until that point in our lives had been serving with the military] came home to live with us full time it did not occur to anyone to mention the eccentricities of the house. It was not long however before he started to notice things and I calmly commented that it had always been this way. As a straight forward Yorkshire man he looked at me as though I was a bit daft and I think he possibly wondered what on earth he had gotten himself into but as time went by he understood that it was the norm for this house and he too learned to live with things the way they were.

Life continued smoothly until our youngest daughter was born. A few months following her birth my husband and I attended a wedding and my mother-in-law came to stay overnight to baby-sit. My youngest son and his girlfriend were also staying in the house at the time. When my husband and I returned home following the wedding we joined the others for a nightcap and spent a while chatting before we all retired to bed. In the morning my husband asked his mother how she had slept and she replied that she had slept well until my son’s girlfriend had entered the room in the middle of the night and proceeded to go to sleep in the other bed. My mother-in-law had assumed that there had been an argument and enquired what had happened. Everyone was speechless; none of us had left our rooms after we had retired to bed.

This incident was a turning point and we realised that we would have to do something about the house although we just did not have any idea what to do. Following a discussion everyone agreed that we did not welcome the idea of a medium and we certainly did not wish for publicity of any kind.

The obvious thing to do seemed to be contacting the local Church but I was not keen on speaking about such a delicate subject with our local parish priest. As the days went by it became easier and easier to ignore the problem and of course, time is a great healer. By the time a couple of weeks had passed we all thought that we had over reacted and confidently put the matter to the back of our minds where it remained until I heard the voices.

Part 3 ~ Contact

Part 1 ~ The Beginning

3. Happenings

2008-10-01T13:00:00.003+01:00

Contact

Prior to the birth of our daughter I began working from home and set up my office in the room adjacent to the nursery. Following her birth I continued with this way of working with the baby sleeping peacefully in the nursery while I worked away next door in relative silence. Both of the rooms overlook the rear south facing garden and throughout the day in summer sunshine streams across the floors weaving its way to the heart of the house. The trees sway peacefully in the gentle breeze and as we are so close to the dell the garden is visited by various singing and often colourful birds from first thing in the morning until early evening. It is a lovely place to work if needs must and needs mean I must.

At the time, my husband was serving in the Armed Forces and had recently returned to the UK following a long stint overseas. Opting for a less hectic way of life he had managed to secure a posting at a local camp, this had enabled him to commute to work and although his journey was a long one it was worth it for him to be able to live at home. The pattern of his working routine then was two days on, two nights on, four days off.

One particular day, a few weeks following the happening involving my mother-in-law, I was working in my office, our baby daughter had been taken out for the day by our eldest daughter and my husband was in the garden planting some shrubs. I heard the front door open and my husband walk in, he was in conversation with someone. I wondered who it was, as we were not expecting anyone. It was unlikey to have been a neighbour because most, if not all of them, work during the day. I could hear the conversation; the intonation in their voices and it appeared to be just a general light hearted chat. I could not make out what they were discussing and I walked to the top of the stairs to hear more clearly before leaning over the banister and saying,

“I will not be a minute, I’m just finishing off here.”

I then made my way downstairs to the hall, which is at the bottom of the stairs with the front door slightly off to the right and the sitting room off to the left. Just then, the front door opened and my husband walked in wiping his shoes on the doormat as he entered and smiling when he saw me. The look on my face must have been a picture because I remember seeing his face drain as he looked at my expression.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asked walking towards me.

“If you have only just come in who are the two men in the sitting room?” I managed to answer.

My husband rushed into the room thinking that we had intruders and when he did not find anyone there he proceeded to check the remainder of the house. My husband had been working just to the side of the house so it would have been necessary to pass him to enter the house but nevertheless, he checked everywhere. We then checked the windows to see if any were open, the television and radio were both switched off and we could not find an explanation for the voices.

It was not fear that I felt, more a mix of emotions such as curiosity and concern. Was I going mad? Perhaps this was postnatal depression? How did I feel? I felt fine; happy, loving every moment, motivated, no worries. If I was to mention this to my Health Visitor what would she think? Yes right! So I prefered to believe I had imagined it! Once again we let it go.

A few weeks later something happened that changed the course of events and made it impossible to ignore the happenings any longer. My husband had a little routine upon returning home from working nights. He would enter the house and make two cups of tea, warm a bottle and bring them with him upstairs before he woke me. We would then play 'catch up' while drinking our tea before the baby awoke.

This particular morning as he was climbing the staircase he heard the baby laughing and our youngest son talking to her softly. Smiling, he woke me and informed me that the baby was already awake and that our youngest son was being thoughtful and entertaining her so that I could continue to sleep. He went to see them as I sat in bed drinking my tea.

When my husband entered the nursery he found our daughter sat alone in her cot smiling and laughing at thin air, seeing the door open out of the corner of her eye she turned and put her arms out towards her father. My husband was absolutely dumbstruck. He ran into the bedroom next door and shook our son awake,

“Are you playing a trick on me? Have you been speaking to the baby through the bedroom wall?”

My husband already knew that the answer was a negative one at the same time he asked the question.

We found ourselves left with no option but to do something about the happenings. Who do you contact when you find yourself in such a situation? Where do you start? We were unnerved and struggling. I took hold of the telephone directory and contacted a cathedral in the nearest city. My call was answered in a typical English way by a lady I imagined from the sound of her voice to be in her early sixties.

“Hello," I said, "I am not sure how to put this but we are having a few problems with our house; some really strange things have been happening and …”

“Oh yes, I understand. I will just put you through to the relevant person. One moment please…”

My call was put through to a gentleman I shall refer to from here onwards as
Edmund.

Part 4 ~ The Visitor

Part 1 ~ The Beginning

4. Happenings

2008-10-01T12:00:00.003+01:00

The visitor

"I don’t know where to begin…” I said.

The voice at the other end of the telephone was clipped, soothing and educated.

“Why don’t you start with what prompted you to telephone today and we shall take it from there?” And we did just that.

I informed Edmund about that morning’s events and my account was punctuated by his understated encouragement. Edmund was a good interviewer, I willingly entrusted him with an account of all the happenings since the day we moved in up until that morning. Throughout our conversation I never once felt foolish or neurotic, we could have been speaking about the weather.

“Do you want to tell me where you live? You do not have to give me your name or full address if you do not wish to.”

I was so relieved that someone was listening to me that I would have given him the PIN for my bank account! All the time we were on the telephone my husband remained close by listening to both sides of the conversation.

Upon my divulging our address to Edmund he studied a number of maps he had close to hand,

“Ahh… yes, I have found you now. There does not appear to have been any church buildings on that site or burial grounds etc. What do you know about the history of the main house? You say your house is built in the former gardens? Were there any outbuildings or summer houses in the gardens that you are aware of?”

I did not have a great deal of information for him. I knew that the main house had been built for a family who had made most of their money through cotton and that towards the rear of the main house had been the former tennis courts and a couple of outbuildings. Everything that had previously been there was long gone apart from the main house and houses had been built in place of the tennis courts and other buildings a hundred years or so ago.

“It might be an idea to look into the history of the house, see what you can find out. Also speak with your neighbours, there is no need to approach them directly about this, you can always just bring it up in general conversation, you know, just ask them what they know about the house and its vicinity. Are you OK to do this?”

I welcomed an opportunity to delve more into the history of the immediate area; it was something I always planned to do but had never got around to. However, this did not solve our immediate problem and we may have overreacted but we had already moved the baby’s cot into our bedroom and our youngest son had informed us that he was going to stay with friends for a few days.

“What should we do about what has happened this morning though? What should we do about that?” I enquired in a rather desperate way.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much , I do not think there is anything at all for you to worry about. Nothing harmful has happened really has it? Just that there are a few happenings that you cannot explain but that does not mean that there is any danger to you or your family. If you are agreeable, I shall arrange for someone to contact you and visit your home and discuss this further with you. Would you like me to arrange this?”

There was no hesitation on our behalf whatsoever.

“One more thing,” Edmund enquired “Have there been any building works going on recently in your house or the main house?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Some new people moved into the main house a couple of months ago and they are having a lot of work done. We have just had our garden landscaped, in fact, we are still in the process of completing this work and shall be carrying out some further work on the garden in the next week or so.”

“Okey dokey then. If you would not mind taking a look into the house and having a chat with the neighbours and I shall ask someone to contact you, they will be in touch soon. Goodbye.”

With that he was gone and it was only after I had replaced the receiver that I realised that he had not given me his name. Later that evening the telephone rang,

“Hello, my name is Godfrey. I have been asked to contact you, I understand that you have contacted the Cathedral today with regards to some happenings in your home? Would you still like someone to come out and visit you?”

We arranged for Godfrey to visit early the following evening and it could not come around soon enough for us.

The house was quiet, everything had returned to normal and by teatime the following day my husband had already spoken with our immediate neighbours. One of our neighbours had no knowledge regarding the history of the main house or the immediate vicinity. Somehow, using all his skills, my husband had managed to ask them indirectly if they had ever experienced any happenings themselves and was relieved when he had drawn a blank.

Another of our neighbours had lived in the village all his life and so had his parents and grandparents. He informed my husband that there had been a fire at the main house a few years earlier and that following the fire it had been empty for quite a while. Also, as a child he had played in the gardens but had made sure never to have played there alone or once it had started to get dark due to the fact that the gardens were reputed to be haunted.

“Haunted?” My husband asked. “What’s the story behind that then?”

“No idea,” the neighbour replied. “No wish to find out either, I would sooner not know any more!” he said as he walked off.

We wished to know more though and I intended to find out.

Godfrey arrived on time and he was not quite what we expected although I do not know really what we were expecting. Godfrey appeared to have come from the same mould as Sir Alex Guinness and he had a calm air about him. He was dressed in light brown twill turnup trousers, a checked open necked shirt and a woollen checked sports jacket in various shades of sage green.

We sat in the sitting room taking tea, so terribly English and not at all like one would imagine in such a situation. No thunder, no lightning and no bell, book and candle. All was calm, well... at that moment anyway.

Part 5 ~ Discoveries

Part 1 ~ The Beginning

5. Happenings

2008-10-01T11:00:00.003+01:00

Discoveries

We chatted with Godfrey for a while and I would describe his personality as being that of ‘human valium’, the man just oozed calm, peace and tranquillity, I cannot explain it! After a while he asked us to walk with him around the house, through each room, recalling any happenings we could remember as we went along. Some ten or so minutes into the tour our youngest son arrived home unexpectedly and confided in Godfrey also.

It all seems so unbelievable looking back, what was there to tell? A corner of a room has always felt uneasy, a spot on the landing where you do not want to hang around, a banging to the side of the house and voices...

What reaction were we expecting? Godfrey walked calmly through the house, listening intently, studying each area and item carefully, reflecting, considering minutely what we were telling him. We were desperate not to come over as cranks and were reassured that he understood we were not.

It was the first occasion I had entered the nursery since the baby moved into our bedroom a few days earlier. We all appeared to feel it at once and a shiver ran around the room, the temperature was lower; it was markedly noticeable compared to the rest of the house.

“There is a cold spot here,” Godfrey said softly. “Has this room always been so?”

It had not, that was the first time any of us had experienced it, and we would never have chosen a cold room for the nursery.

Godfrey left shortly afterwards but not before reassuring us that there was nothing to worry about. I am not sure who asked but I do know that one of us asked what we should do if we should experience any other happenings. The answer was simply to imagine a protective light around us and to recite something that we find comforting, a prayer, poem or even a song, whatever would help to soothe and calm us. Also, that there was no need to be afraid, it would be enough to say please leave, please go away, I do not want you here or words to that effect. I remember thinking at the time, oh really!

Godfrey left his telephone number with us. I was to look into the history of the main house and the surrounding area, when we were ready we were to telephone him and arrange to meet again at the house. What, if indeed anything at all was to happen next was not discussed. There had been no magic performed, no discussion regarding what he thought of our happenings but somehow we felt reassured and the fear had left us. That evening a music box in the nursery played by itself for five full minutes.

The next day I began my research and immediately contacted the Fire Museum; I was interested in the fire. A gentleman I spoke with there kindly undertook to do some research on my behalf and said he would telephone in a week or so with an update. Of course, I did not mention why I was interested just that I was undertaking some local history research.

Next, I visited the local history section of the main library in the largest town adjacent to the village but I drew a blank. We have a small museum in our village but as volunteers man it one can only visit at set times. I made an appointment.

Six days following my visit to the library I arrived at the museum. Here, in our village, if you want to find out anything, you have to first present your credentials. I do not have a broad local accent, you may think so if you heard me speak but people around these parts can only hear a slight local twang. I was greeted with suspicion but once I had announced my ancestry the barriers were removed.

“Ah! I remember your Grandmother… So you want to know more about where you are living? Where do you live? Ah, yes… are you having problems then? You’re not the first, we had someone else in a while back.”

I was absolutely stunned and of course wanted to know more but unfortunately the gentleman could not remember anything further. He then produced a large hand drawing of the area with the main house and gardens clearly marked and also the surrounding properties. If I remember correctly it was dated 1820.

The original layout had been different, do you remember the way I described the present layout in terms of a clock face with the main house being situated at 12 o’clock, ours at 3 o’clock, the main entrance at 9 o’clock? Well, the drawing showed clearly that originally the main entrance had been at 6 o’clock and the drive had swept just off to the front of our house in a curve. Stables and a coach house had been adjacent to the right of the main house. Something was marked on the drawing in the location where our house is now located, it ran from 3 o’clock to 1 o’clock.

“What was there?” I asked the gentleman assisting me.

“Never been able to work it out myself,” he answered. “I’ve always thought it might be a summer house of some sorts?”

In those days, the main house had been completely on its own with its nearest neighbour being a farmhouse on the moor to the rear. I was surprised to discover this for up until that moment I had absolutely no idea that the land upon which the main house had been built had once belonged to that farm. It was a farm where my great grandfather had been born and where my grandmother's family had lived for generations until it had been sold when they ventured from farming to cloth.

When I returned home I informed my husband of my discoveries or rather what I had not discovered. I somehow felt even more attached to the house and was relieved that I had not uncovered a terrible past connected to the area. Later that evening, the gentleman at the Fire Museum telephoned to inform us that he too had drawn a blank. Although there had been a fire, no life had been lost. Once more we found ourselves relieved rather than disappointed.

Two days later, it was a Friday – how we love Fridays! My husband and I both finished work early and decided to have a pizza and watch a DVD. There are no pizza deliveries here; you have to drive to the nearest town and collect. My husband ordered a family sized pizza and took the baby with him to collect; our youngest son was not at home. I decided to jump into the shower while my husband was gone.

Following my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and was standing at the washbasin in our ensuite bathroom when I heard the front door open and slam shut and my husband running up the stairs two at a time. I flew out of the bathroom; I knew instinctively something was wrong. Halfway across our bedroom I heard the footsteps resounding on the floorboards heading across the landing towards where I was stood. It was at that point that I realised I was not hearing my husband but someone or something else. I ran back into the bathroom, locked the door and fell to my knees. I pushed my entire weight against the door, I imagined the light, I prayed, I cried out loud.

“I do not want to SEE you, please, please, please go away!”

Whatever or whoever it was left immediately.

My husband returned ten minutes later and found me rooted to the same spot. It was five minutes before he convinced me to emerge from the bathroom. I took the baby from his arms, held her close to me and walked out of the house into the garden. My husband followed us and telephoned Godfrey from his mobile.

It was six o’clock on a warm summer's evening, birds were singing, the sun was shining and we were sitting in our garden refugees from our home waiting for a serene elderly gentleman we had only met two weeks previously to liberate us.

Part 6 ~ Haunted

Part 1 ~ The Beginning

6. Happenings

2008-10-01T10:00:00.004+01:00

Haunted

We were in the process of having part of the rear garden flagged and so we sat to the side of the house while we waited for Godfrey to arrive. Meanwhile, we had arranged for our eldest daughter to take care of the baby and she had collected her sister and taken her home with her for the remainder of the evening. I felt tired, almost drained, a complete change from the way I had felt half an hour earlier. I definitely know what I heard but as I sat there then, and as I write this now, I still find it almost impossible to believe.

My husband sensitively took me through what had taken place.

"The first thing you heard was the front door open and close?"

What did I hear? I heard a front door open and slam shut but it could not have been our front door as it has glass in it and also, if one should slam it shut the letterbox jangles. What I heard was a heavy solid door open and slam shut with some force behind it.

"Someone running up the stairs and across the landing?"

My husband and sons have a habit of running up the stairs two at a time; it takes them seven footfalls to reach the landing. What I heard was possibly ten or more heavy steps on what I had assumed to be the stairs and then many more along the landing and across the bedroom floor. What I heard was footfalls on wooden floors but both the stair and landing areas in the house are carpeted and there were far too many footfalls than those required to cover what is basically a very small area. The house is a cottage not a mansion!

"The footsteps reached the bathroom?"

I heard the footsteps along the bedroom floor but again, heavy footsteps on wooden floors. I heard the footsteps come to a halt outside the bathroom door, I could feel vibrations from the footsteps through the bathroom floor.

Just then, Godfrey arrived; it had probably taken him an hour or so to reach us. I heard my husband thank him for coming at such short notice and say something about it being a double inconvenience because it was a Friday evening. Strange as it may seem, what I remember most of all was the way Godfrey looked at me; he looked straight at me and held my eyes for what seemed like ages and then nodded ever so slightly. It felt almost as if he was looking for something, I remember thinking that he must think I am an idiot but he did not treat me that way at all.

I was reluctant to return inside the house so we continued to sit in the garden for a minute or so and Godfrey had his remarkable soothing effect on me. Once more, I went through what had happened but this time, I felt remarkably matter of fact about it, calm and almost accepting.

"You must have been extremely frightened,"Godfrey said.

I am not sure if it was a statement or a question and what I said next shocked me. I remember saying,

"I was but what was more frightening was that whatever was outside that door was more frightened than I was. I could feel fear and I do not for one minute believe it was just my own."

I had not felt any connection with whatever it was other than fear and from the weight of the footsteps I had allowed it to take the shape of a male adult in my mind.

Godfrey again, nodded ever so slightly and spoke with us about the action he recommended we take and without any hesitation we all entered the house together.

I remember that we knelt on the floor in the sitting room and prayed softly; we held hands in a circle and were anointed with oil. I am not sure in which order and I do not recollect Godfrey having anything in his hands apart from a small silver casket that he pulled from his pocket. We then followed Godfrey as he made his way through the house praying for only a moment in each area, paying specific attention to the corner in the kitchen that the children had always been wary of, the spot on the landing and the nursery. Nothing was missed, even the cupboard under the stairs was visited and eventually the loft. The whole experience was quite surreal and almost, well, I hesitate to use the word but in truth it was cleansing.

After we had finished we sat in the sitting room and had some tea. All our fears had left, the house felt lighter and warmer. My husband was the first to comment about the change in the house and later, everyone who visited commented about it although only our immediate family were aware of the events that had taken place.

Eventually, it was time for Godfrey to leave and we thanked him profusely. I do not remember any of us ever asking Godfrey a question about his vocation up until that moment but I had newly found courage and enquired,

"Do you do this sort of thing all the time?" His answer was a positive one.

Of course, being a woman, I wanted to know more and enquired a little further. Godfrey tactfully answered my questions and then asked one of his own.

"Tell me," he said softly, "When we were on the landing in between the nursery and the office what did you experience?"

I was quite taken aback by his question. I had imagined something, just for a brief moment and he had obviously picked up on it. I replied, "I felt a sudden urge to put my arm up as if warding off a heavy blow - from a branch of all things!"

Once again, he looked deeply into my eyes and nodded ever so slightly before he left and cheerfully waved goodbye.

In the weeks that followed, we received telephone calls from both Edmund and Godfrey, just to enquire if everything was OK and to assure us that they were almost certain that there would be no more happenings.

A few months later my husband and I were invited to a barbecue held at the house of one of our neighbours, their house is situated at 1 o'clock and they have lived there since the houses were built. In conversation their eldest son who was around 23 at that time announced that he was not going into the utility room of the house because of the ghost. My husband enquired further and was informed that the son had been alone in the house one evening and while ironing a shirt he had sworn blind that someone else had been standing next to him.

The lady of the household told us gleefully that their house was haunted and had been ever since they moved in. Usually, it it is just lights turning themselves on and regularly they hear footsteps running down wooden floors upstairs although all their floors are carpeted. She had even visited the local museum to see if she could find out more about the main house as she suspected that it had something to do with that. Only their son was frightened by the experiences, both our neighbour and her husband thought it was terribly exciting.

We told them our story and left Godfrey's number in case they should ever need it.

One more thing, do you remember I mentioned once or twice the banging to the side of the house? Well that still happens, in fact it has happened ever since we had a new gate fitted to make the garden more secure when our little girl plays outside. It happens if someone forgets to close the gate properly and the wind catches it. The interesting thing is, we heard the gate banging years before it was ever fitted.

We have discussed various possibilities for our happenings, one is that our house and the house at 1 o'clock may act as a kind of amplifier and pick up noises from the main house or elsewhere. As for the other possibilities, well I would rather not think about that at the moment, the house is fairly quiet and I would like to keep it that way.

Part 1 ~ The Beginning

Madness of Me

2008-09-11T16:24:00.006+01:00

Voices

“When did you first hear the voices?”

“When I was four.”

“Four? So young?”

“Yes… well I think so. I know I wasn’t five so I must have been around four.”

“What were you doing when you first heard them?”

“Trying to sleep. I was in my bedroom, tucked up in bed… almost asleep. I might have been sleeping, I’m not sure. Perhaps they woke me.”

“They?”

“The voices. I heard them calling.”

“What were they saying?”

“My name. Over and over again.”

“You heard it clearly?”

“Well not at first… just a sound like something carried on the wind. After a while I realised they were calling my name.”

“So the voices were in the room with you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“They were outside but I could hear them through the window which was slightly open. I think it must have been summer because it was a light evening.”

“How many voices did you hear?”

“It sounded like many voices at first, happy, giggling giddy voices, like whispering Munchkins. Later I realised that there were only two of them.”

“You compare the voices to Munchkins, had you recently watched the Wizard of Oz?”

“Don’t be daft! That’s really funny that is! There were no DVDs or Videos in those days and the only thing I ever watched on television was Watch With Mother. It was later, much later that I saw the film and the Munchkins reminded me of the incident.”

“So you heard the voices, through the open window. Do you remember anything else?”

“Oh yes… lots more.”

“What else do you remember?”

“Well I remember what they looked like.”

“You actually saw something as well? I had no idea… Tell me what you saw.”

“Well, they kept on calling my name and then when they had my attention they asked me to go over to the window so I did.”

“You got out of bed and walked over to the window? Is that when you saw something?”

“Not at first… it took me a while to work out exactly where they were and then a little longer to work them out.”

“Why was that? Was it dark outside?”

“Quite light really but they were so small… tiny. I remember thinking that they must be elves.”

“Why elves?”

“I had a book, The Elves and The Shoemaker. They looked a little like the illustrations of the elves in that book.”

“And there were two of them?”

“Yes two, both male.”

“What were they doing?”

“Just standing on the lawn under my window looking up at me.”

“Did they say anything else?”

“Yes but I can’t remember exactly what they said… not word for word anyway. I do know that they wanted me to join them, they wanted me to leave my room, leave the house and run away with them.”

“And you… what did you want?”

“To go with them but I knew that I shouldn’t. I remember feeling sad, almost as if I had been cheated out of a great adventure.”

“Do you know why you felt that way?”

“No. Not then anyway...”

Part 2 ~ Mickey

Madness Of Me

2008-09-11T13:30:00.004+01:00

Mickey

“Where was I?”

“You were telling me about the voices and what you saw from the window.”

“Oh yes… that’s right. I suppose that’s all there is really as far as that episode is concerned.”

“Did you speak with them?”

“The elves?”

“Yes, if that is what you want to call them.”

“I told them that I wasn’t coming out to play, that I had to go back to bed and although they were disappointed they seemed to understand.”

“What happened next?”

“I returned to my bed and fell asleep.”

“Did you tell anyone about what you had seen or heard?”

“I’m not sure, I may have done. I can’t remember any specific conversation about it though.”

“And you didn’t hear the voices again until you were much older?”

“Heavens no! Well, that was the last time I saw and heard those little fellows… as far as I can remember any way.”

“But you heard or saw others?”

“Yes… Mickey came next.”

“Mickey?”

“You’re quite funny at times you know.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, the way you try to keep a straight face.”

“Tell me about Mickey.”

“Hmm…I suppose you would call him an invisible friend.”

“Invisible? But you could hear him?”

“Oh I could both see and hear Mickey! Only other people found it impossible to do so. Not everyone mind you. Our dog appeared to see and hear him but everyone said she was old and crackers. After a while she just ignored him like all the other kids.”

“Did you hear or see Mickey first?”

“Neither. I guess you could say I sensed him and then looked up to find him staring down at me.”

“Staring down? Was Mickey an adult?”

“Mickey? Nah! He was a little kid just like me although I knew he wasn’t exactly like me… we were both children but I suspect he had lived a much longer life only he hadn’t grown older…”

“I see... Where were you when you first saw him?”

“Would you believe I was in the bath? He scared the living daylights out of me sitting on the edge staring at me through his golden eyes as though I was something weird! It was so funny! I told him off for staring and he nearly fell on the floor.
“What?! YOU can see me?!” he cried.
I thought he was a bit simple at first yet he was far from it.”

“What did Mickey look like?”

“A boy silly!”

“Exactly the same as other boys you knew at the time? You mention he had golden eyes?”

“Yes I did didn’t I.”

“It's OK if you do not want to talk about him… we can talk about something else if you prefer?”

“What makes you think I don’t want to talk about him?”

“You seem hesitant.”

“Only because I am concerned for you.”

“For me? Why would you be concerned for me?”

“I’m not sure just how much of my memories you can handle.”

Part 3 ~ Time

Part 1 ~ Voices

Madness Of Me

2008-09-11T12:33:00.005+01:00

Time

“Describe Mickey for me.”

“Like I said, he was a boy, quite small for his age which from his appearance I would judge to have been around six or seven.”

“He had golden eyes?”

“Yes… I suppose you could describe the iris as metallic and his pupils were vertical rather than horizontal and quite jelly like. It was best not to look directly into his eyes.”

“Why was that?”

“You could loose too much time.”

“Loose time? How?”

“It would be first thing in the morning one moment and then the next my mother would be calling me for tea.”

“You would loose track of complete days?”

“I didn’t say that. I knew exactly where we had been while we were away.”

“I see… Where did you go when you “were away”?”

“On visits. It was fun. We shared some good time for a short while.”

“Oh... Did something happen to Mickey?”

“He got bored with me that’s all. I suppose I became less and less interesting to him as I grew older. One day he left and never returned.”

“How old were you then?”

“Not quite seven.”

“Were you sad when you no longer saw him?”

“Not really, I understood that it was the time when he would move on. I’ve often thought about him over the years though. I wonder where he is now...”

“Erm… quite. What did your parents think of Mickey?”

“They thought it was a phase I was going through. My mother would often ask if my friend required a place at the table and Mickey would ask if she was one sandwich short of a picnic.”

“And your father?”

“He didn’t think it was a laughing matter. Perhaps I reminded him of someone.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well I’m not the first nutter we’ve had in the family.”

“You’re not... Not that I thought for one minute you were… no… no… please forgive me! What I meant was…”

“Keep your hair on! There’s no need to panic, no offence taken. Try and chill a little, it’ll make it easier for the both of us. Now where were we?”

“You reminded your father of another family member?”

“I should imagine so. There’s a whole closet full of what you might call eccentrics.”

“Do you consider yourself an eccentric?”

“I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“Who or what did you visit with Mickey?”

“The past.”

“Can you explain a little more what you mean when you say the past?”

“I might be able to explain it, whether you will grasp it or not is another matter.”

“Try me.”

“Hmm… let’s see. What if I told you that it's possible to seep into the past? How can I put it… Imagine time as an onion, each layer a year or a century whatever time period you want to settle for. Mickey taught me how to seep into those layers without ever actually leaving the place I was in. Flowing back through time purely from the prospective of the geographical location I was in at that moment. Does that make sense to you?”

“A little. You couldn’t seep as you put it without Mickey?”

“Not then… no.”

“But you can now?”

“Sometimes.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you see?”

“I’m trying to.”

Part 4 ~ Peacocks

Part 1 ~ Voices

Madness Of Me

2008-09-11T11:35:00.001+01:00

Peacocks

“Do you see the curtain over there?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Trust is important isn’t it? Trust me for a moment then and describe the material to me.”

“I will if you want me to… it’s a paisley print. Do you want me to describe the colours also?”

“No, it’s quite alright. Do you see anything other than the paisley pattern? Look close.”

“No… just the paisley pattern. Is there something I am supposed to be looking for?”

“You tell me.”

“I just see the paisley pattern.”

“What if I ask you to look closely at the bottom right hand section of the curtain on my right? Can you make out a peacock?”

“Now you come to mention it I can. It does rather look like a peacock doesn’t it? It’s just the way the curtain folds.”

“I saw the peacock first and then on closer inspection the paisley pattern.”

“I see.”

“Is the peacock there or not?”

“It’s all to do with perception…”

“Do you want to go back to the voices now?”

“Do you?”

“I’m easy.”

“What happened after Mickey’s final visit?”

“I began to investigate the background noises.”

“Background noises? What exactly do you mean by that?”

“You know… you’re reading at night and hear a creak above you, perhaps a tap on the window or even someone calling your name… that sort of thing.”

“Yes?”

“Do you always ignore such noises? Do you dismiss them, make excuses for them or do you investigate what you have heard?”

“They’re just the sounds a house makes at night, a branch tapping on the window etc.”

“How do you know you are correct if you don't get up to investigate?”

“Instinct I suppose.”

“What about when you instinctively feel that someone is watching you…that someone is stood behind you. Are they?”

“Not always… but yes, sometimes they are.”

“And shadows? Can you see figures in dark shadows?”

“Can you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Tell me about the figures you see in the shadows.”

“Just people, sometimes animals…”

“Do these people speak to you?”

“Sometimes.”

“What sort of things do they say?”

“All sorts of things. Sometimes they ignore me and sometimes they simply fail to notice I am there at all.”

“Are you often ignored?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether the person is the type to see peacocks or not.”

Butterfly Whispers

2008-09-01T16:23:00.001+01:00

It reminded me of a butterfly’s wing; it was such a faint little flutter that whispered across my neck more and more these past few weeks. I suspected that it had something to do with age, or hormones, perhaps both.

I had everything ready for her favourite tea and knew that it wouldn’t be too long before she arrived. Rex our dog was outside darting around the leaves that had carpeted the stone flagging in the rear garden. My husband Ted was busying himself in the shed pretending as usual that her visit was just routine. I knew it was all an act; he missed her as much as I did and looked forward to these weekly visits.

Rex was quiet. She must be further away than I thought. Dogs are telepathic; there is no other way to put it.

As soon as she was at the bottom of the lane Rex started to jump around and whine giving her arrival plenty of notice . I hadn’t expected him to bark but he did, just a few seconds before the doorbell rang. Silly girl, fancy forgetting her key! Ted just raised his head and peeped through the window in the shed trying not to look too eager at her arrival.

“Hi Mum. Forgot my key. Sorry!”

With a gush she waltzed past me and through the patio doors at the rear of the house, always a daddy’s girl. The young man was left standing on the doorstep.

“Hello… can I help you?”

Our visitor flashed me one of those eternally boyish smiles, a gesture Hugh Grant has made a living out of. I returned his smile at the same moment feeling a rush of acknowledgement on both our behalves.

“Do I know you? Have we met before?”

“Perhaps... I have paid several visits here over the years. Maybe you have seen me passing once or twice?”

His hair was so blonde, thousands and thousands of light threads all perfectly cut. Not thick waves but straight smooth silk strands. I felt an urge to reach out and ruffle them but had second thoughts. Where were my manners?

“Please come in… sit down… I’ll put the kettle on.”

I felt a thread pull across my neck, delicately tickling the skin. I reached for the stray hair I was sure was there and came away with nothing. Rex barked.

“Yes,” the young man whispered softly “Dogs really are telepathic. Yours knows that you are just about to die. Within a few minutes your family will know too when they walk in here and find you lying on the floor. You will look just like you are sleeping.”

“Pardon?”

“No time for that cup of tea my dear, only a moment left I’m afraid and a simple choice to make. Life is so simple really, almost a spectrum of light... dark at one end, bright at the other and a river of colours in between.”

Rex yelped.

“How many colours did you see Ruth? How many did you paint your life with?”

Involuntarily my hand reached up for my neck as the floor came up to greet me, it felt cold and hard.

“Come… come now… do not be afraid. Take my hand, we shall go together. I know you are worried but they will be alright, they are only a colour or two behind us. See the white light? Flow into it Ruth… time to leave the colours behind now. A pity you preferred to use such a limited palette when you were alive.”

When I was alive? Had I ever really been alive? Wasn’t I waiting for life to begin? Hadn't I always planned ahead? Marriage, children, Ted’s retirement and all the things we had planned to do just waiting for the right moment. I wondered if Ted would do them all without me now?

“Choice! You said I had a choice to make? What choice?” I cried.

“The colour you leave behind Ruth. What colour do you want to leave behind for others to remember you by?”

It was easy,

“The colour of your hair.” I smiled.

“I thought as much. The colour you chose now is life, many do at the end. I hope they see it before the butterfly whispers. You see we did meet before, many times… unfortunately you never really saw me before today.”

Coal Black

2008-08-02T11:51:00.000+01:00

On coal black nights
edged with silver
I journey across
the northern moorland
towards the now empty
burial mound
at Deerstone Edge
my thoughts singed
with light filled days

and you…

Lead coffins
and their occupants
once slept here
cradled beneath
clay and heather carpets
whilst seeping rain
formed a mattress
of black silt
beneath bare bones

sleep evades me now…

Flowers and wine
long since placed
as offerings
to keep company
with the dead
and their Gods
are but colourless dust

your eyes were as blue as the evening sky…

How many
of the living
have taken shelter here
in the light of day
whilst pelting rain
and bitter winds
screamed their way
across the land

at night only the dead can claim sanctuary here…

How soon
we are forgotten
by others
by each other

my soul hunts the night... and yours

Memories Of A Lost Childhood

2008-08-02T11:25:00.002+01:00

Growing Older

Loitering at the top of the stairs on the way back from the bathroom
voices and strange noises in your bedroom
listening at the bedroom door
presents for another
friends around the bedside
joy turning to disappointment
wishing for another child to play with, bored with a baby
having to share you both
refusing to share you…

warm days and short colourful dresses
pine perfume
empty hockey pitches
helicopter whirls
all things bright and beautiful
cabbages and kings…

New places
new home
new furniture
new friends
wanting old…

White dusty walls and homes of silken thread
rough wooden floors
tiny glass panes
sensing the old within the new
cider barrels, many voices
wooden settles with blinking dogs
nesting underneath in kennels rented by the pint
no more bedtime stories
home now, absent here…

Empty basket, heartbreak
frisky white and liver coloured friend
wide blue river, green banks
eels steaming by fishing rods
reeds swimming in deep pools
walking, wandering
alone with others…

Sitting on your shoulders while you stand on the ancient stone bridge
black sky lit by rainbow lights dancing to gunpowder bangs
cold smokey air
looking out across the river towards our old home
knowing you want to go back too
knowing the old life is over
not understanding why…

Looking at your bare thigh, watching you squeeze the flesh together
hypnotised by the needle feeding you life
understanding it commands us now
uniform gone, no more buckles
metal and liquid Rupert giving life saving orders
learning to deny anything has changed
understanding that part of you died
and that your loss is greater than ours
recognising to respond without acknowledgement
loving you more
feeling loved less

Young girl
different music
different party…

Memories Of A Lost Childhood

2008-08-02T11:11:00.004+01:00

Being Young

Sitting on the hard stone doorstep
legs stretched out before me
flakes of diamonds glimmering in the flag path
leaves whispering in the gentle breeze
washing over a large oak tree in the distance
waves of sun rippling down
upon and across the crown of my head
tendrils of hair brushing softly against my shoulders
tiny red ants scurrying to and fro
moving my sandals from their path
birds singing merrily
the scent of small white flowers from the borders of the garden
quick shadows
looking up to find you watching me
shrieks of delight
running, my heart pounding against the light cotton of my dress
flying, your strong hands under my arms
bright smiles and blue twinkling eyes...

Sitting on a carpet behind the sofa
no need to hide from the daleks
eating hard thick oatcake biscuits out of thick foil packets
drinking water from a bottle and metal tin with handles
sneaking away to play with the buckle of your belt
hoping you do not discover that it is gone too soon
listening to your laughing voices
sounds from a radio; the Archers, Woman’s Hour, Listen With Mother,
Fisher, German Bight, Viking, Dogger
all blending into one...

Dancing downstairs to the scents of curry
treasure plates of cold rice pearls
wooden beer barrels on kitchen tables
empty silent glass bottles in wooden crates
music to make you smile forever
sleeping away the heavy mornings anticipating night
friends together
departed friends
tears…

Thora Hird, Jimmy Clitheroe and Emergency Ward 10
bedtime stories with cotton and wool maps
tales of lands far away
bunnies running over sky blue headboards
waking up with Mum alone together
crying…

weekly Cathedral visits
skipping footsteps on ancient flag floors
veils of incense
choirs of candles
jewelled caresses of light from biblical scenes
stone knights sleeping
brass walls
dusty books on ancient chains
Ladybird books and pennies in an honesty basket
arranging books in my own little library
knowing you are missing us too
feeling you home
wishing a day into a second…

Part 2 ~ Growing Older

The Laying Of Ghosts

2008-08-02T10:38:00.003+01:00

I was totally unprepared for the call informing me that you would be there last night and unsure how to react. Should we continue in our plans to attend or stay at home? In the end we decided that we would still go and leave early if we were not enjoying ourselves.

You could not attend the funeral of your own father but you could be there last night?

The photographs flashed on the wall of the room, both monochrome and colour. They all looked so young, everyone was so young. Each photograph bringing back memories, only capturing a moment, a party, day out, holiday, wedding, all the events of our lives and their lives before we were ever born. Did any of the photographs really tell a story or just capture a moment in time?

There are photographs of last night, what do they tell?

I did not see you enter, how long had you been there before I saw your back across the room? I knew it was you, the way you hold yourself, the way you move. In that instance you had made your way across the room to sit at our table and I was not ready. I had not expected you to be so bold.

Did you really just casually start a conversation?

“Hi! How are you?”

How am I feeling? Was I feeling? Yes, I was feeling.

I needed another drink but before I could reach for the glass the other me answered,

“Fine, thank you.”

Did I really sound that bright? Chirpy even? Was that really me? Did I look at you and say those words?How could I look at you and not look into your eyes?

I looked up to the left of me and into a waiting pair of eyes and heard a concerned voice ask,

“OK babe?”

Yes, yes, I am OK because you are here with me.

I moved to another part of the room, casually, as casually as,

“Hi! How are you?”

This will probably be the last party we all share together. Our parents have passed and their generation is passing. We have grandchildren now, we have become the older generation. Perhaps it will just be funerals from now on and we are all so finely spread across the globe that we may only hear after the event. A few have remained here, some may return and others may leave for newer if not greener pastures.

How is France? Yes, I know you are living there now but I do not know where, I have not asked.

You moved across the room taking photographs, capturing moments of time. A second time you approached me and spoke,

“Can I take a photograph of you with Isolde? She is beautiful. Beautiful.”

The other me answered, posed for the photograph, even looked at the image in the camera when you asked me to.

“Do you want a copy? I will send you one by email.”

You did not ask for my email address. Do you have my email address?

The songs were different last night, songs of a new generation.

I will not back down
When you push me to the wall
Expecting me to fall
I will not give in
I am not afraid to fight
For what I know is right
I can only take so much
And when I’ve had enough
It’s not in my blood
to just lay down
I will hold my ground

Did you really break my heart? Did I cry an ocean of tears over you? Did you shape my life in parts? Have you haunted me all these years?

By the time we came to leave I had laid my ghosts.

I approached your table and embraced all one by one. You reached out for me and pulled me close, I heard you catch your breath as you inhaled my perfume.

Yes; I still wear the same one.

“Thank you for coming. Your daughter is beautiful. Beautiful.”

“Goodbye,” I said, not the other me.

I said Goodbye with a million emotions swirling around inside of me and not one was regret.

“OK babe?”

Yes, yes I am OK. I am here with you and it's a new day…