“Tess?” She whispered. “Come back.” Alison was worried about Tess, who knew who or what she might find downstairs. Alison started to descend the stairs. She tiptoed down, not wanting to alert anyone of her presence. She found Tess barking at the cupboard under the stairs. Alison went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She came back to the hallway and pushed Tess out the way. She opened the door to the cupboard. The music was louder and clearer now. But it wasn’t coming from the cupboard, it was coming from the floor underneath it. Alison remembered the keys she had got earlier off of the homeless man. When she had come back to the house and found the men had gone, she had forgotten all about them. Alison turned and ran up the stairs two at a time. She found the jeans she was wearing yesterday on the floor. She got the keys out of the pocket. She ran back downstairs where Tess was still barking at the floor. …And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart…
“Tess, you need to stay here, it might not be safe down there.” Alison got her lead onto her collar and wrapped it around the banister. Tess pulled on it. Alison ignored Tess as she sounded her disgust. Alison turned back to the cupboard and looked at the floor. There appeared to be a light coming from underneath the floor. Alison took the set of keys and fumbled with them. She was frightened, but the house was all she owned. She couldn't be scared out of it no matter what happened. …Don’t you ever change, keep that breathless charm…
Alison found the key that fitted the lock and turned it, it clicked open. Alison pulled up the trap door and looked inside. The light had gone out and the music stopped. Maybe it was all her imagination? She shined her light down there. There were stairs leading to a room. She took a step down. She looked to Tess who was still pulling on her lead and barking.
“It’s ok Tess, I’m just going to have a look,” she said. She took another step, then another. She saw a fully furnished room. It was dusty but timeless.There was a gold art deco wallpaper on the wall. There was a sofa that was once green, now very dusty. There were two wooden chairs and a wooden bar with a stall. There was a fully stocked drinks cabinet, full of glass bottles. Alison shone the light on the floor. It was covered in dust, apart from the clear footprints of her trainers. There were no other footprints. There was no one down there. Alison breathed a sigh of relief and realised Tess had gone quiet as well. Alison laughed to herself. There was nothing wrong with the house. She shone the light onto the ceiling which was covered in spiders webs. Alison looked at the walls. There was a black and white framed picture on the wall. Alison went over to it. She wiped the glass with the sleeve of her pyjama top. It was a black and white picture of a couple. They were standing outside of Albert House. The house looked in good care and painted a bright white. There were flowers in the front garden and curtains at the windows. The couple were dressed in old fashioned clothing. The woman had blonde hair in waves and was wearing a floral dress. She was standing next to man, with dark hair, wearing a suit. Underneath the picture it said Benedict and Louisa Albert, 1934. Alison looked at this part of the wall, the wallpaper pattern didn't quite line up. Alison realised there was a small gap running in a straight line, running down the wall down to the floor. She felt along the gap, along side it at about hip height she felt a small hole, big enough for a key. She got the keys out of her pocket, she tried them in the hole one by one until she found the right one. It turned and opened, revealing the wall to conceal a secret door. Alison opened it. Behind the wall was a small hidden room. In it were three figures. Alison jumped, then she realised they weren’t moving. They looked like three female mannequins, covered with dusty white sheets. With her hand trembling, she went to pull a sheet off.
As Alison was looking she heard a noise from upstairs. It was the sound of creaking floorboards. There was someone up there. She shined the light up and could see the dust shaking off the floorboards as someone moved about the house. Alison’s first thought was that Tess was tied up and by herself. Alison cursed herself for being so foolish as to put Tess in danger. She turned and ran to the staircase, running up them two at a time. The floor suddenly gave way beneath her. Her foot went through a floorboard, she winced as her ankle twisted. She reached out to grab the bannister but her hand slipped on it. She lost her footing and fell on the stairs. Her foot came free and she started falling down them to the bottom, where she hit her head.
…I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight. Alison opened her eyes. She was in the cellar. She tried to move, but realised she couldn’t, her hands were restrained. She looked around the room. It was dark. Her eyes started to adjust to the lack of light. She could hear music playing. She looked around and saw the source. There was a gramophone player on top of the bar, where there was a record playing. She looked to the sofa. She could see a woman sitting there. She was blonde with wavy hair held back with a pearl pin. She was wearing a green dress. The woman did not move. Alison realised she was dead. Her skin was real but had been contorted over a wire frame. Her hair was but a wig. Her eyes were blue glass, looking out unfocused. Alison looked at her hairline where she could see stitch marks from where the body had been pieced together. Alison tried to move, she still couldn’t.
She looked to the back of the room, she could see another figure sitting on a bar stool. This woman was holding an empty glass in her hand. Her face again looked contorted. Her skin a pasty yellow.
“Please help me.” Alison croaked, feeling confused and weak. But the words didn't come out. Her mouth was bound. She could feel material between her gums. Alison groaned and tried to move but as well as her arms, her feet were also bound together. Her arms held tight behind her back. She wriggled and tried to move but she couldn’t. She became aware of someone else in the room. It was a man stood at the back of the room, his face in darkness. He was standing at a table. He had out in front of him the leather bag that Alison had found in the shed the previous day. He took a knife out of it and began to sharpen it. As he did so he whistled along to the music. Next to the bag on the table was the wooden box from the shed. He turned around and faced Alison. It was the man from the picture, Benedict Alfred. He looked right at her and smiled. The music stopped. He went over to the record player and to reset the music. Alison wriggled her hands and somehow managed to get one free. She untied the other, it was difficult her hands numb from lack of circulation. She looked up, the man was coming towards her. She stayed still, not wanting to let him know she had freed her hands. Just then Tess started barking again. The man turned and looked displeased. Alison used that moment to untie her feet. She managed to pick up the knife and ran. She ran upstairs two at time, the hole in the floor mysteriously gone. She got to the top of the stairs. The trap door had been shut. She looked back down into the basement, she couldn't see Benedict anywhere. Alison pushed against the trap door with all of her weight until it opened. Alison climbed out and slammed it shut behind her, she turned the key and locked it. She went to the hallway and to the bannister. Tess had gone. Alison felt sick. Someone had taken Tess. She would kill anyone who hurt her.
“Tess?” She shouted out. Tears had started to fall down her face. She ignored the throbbing of her twisted ankle. She start to look around the house. She went into the living room, it was difficult to see. It was pitch black and she had no idea where her phone was. She felt around the room, holding the knife out in front of her. She couldn't see Tess. She went out into the hallway and looked around. Somehow the trapdoor was open and unlocked. She headed to the kitchen where she could hear Tess breathing.
“Tess!” Alison shouted. There was a man in there with Tess, holding onto her collar. Alison ran over and plunged her knife into his stomach.
“Alison?” A familiar voice said, as the man slipped to the floor. The lights flickered back on. The man on the floor was Dan, clutching his stomach as blood poured out of him.
The tea tasted plastic and cold out of the polystyrene cup. Alison sat by the side of the hospital bed, looking at Dan. It was two d
ays later. Dan had slept since the day she had stabbed him. He had required two operations and still wasn’t back to health. The doctors said he would wake up when he was ready. Alison had not moved from his bedside. Tess sat patiently by her feet. Dogs weren’t allowed in the hospital, but the nurses had taken pity on Alison as she had been so distraught.
After she had stabbed Dan she had called an ambulance. The police had questioned her but before Dan had passed out, he lied and said he had hurt himself. Alison realised that Dan must have come home early from service to surprise her. She had forgotten to have locked the door to the house. He had come in by himself and found Tess chained up. Alison had stabbed him thinking he was Benjamin.
As Alison was sitting with Dan, he started to move, his hand fluttering.
“Dan? Are you awake?” Alison said. Tears started to well in her eyes. Dans eyes started to flutter open. “I’m so sorry Dan… I thought you were an intruder.” She didn't want to tell him the truth, that the ghost of a dead man had tried to kill her.
“Water,” he croaked. Alison got a glass of water and gently poured some into his mouth. “Remind me not to ever surprise you again.” He said.
“I’m so sorry. I bought this big house hoping that we could have a nice home together, its just some very strange things have been happening there.”
“Alison, I don’t care. I’ve missed you. I think you need to stop this house buying nonsense. Lets move somewhere together, and lets try again to have a baby.”
Alison held onto his hand and sobbed, feeling happier than she had in weeks.
Jim and Rebecca drove down the gravel road towards the house. They parked their red mini cooper and got out.
“This is it, this is the dream,” Rebecca said. She surveyed the white painted home. It was beautiful. It was down a private road and surrounded by forest. It had a new black painted wooden front door. The estate agent opened it and after shaking their hands ushered them inside. Rebecca went inside, followed by Jim who was examining the brickwork. It was everything she wanted in a house. She went up the stairs and looked around the four bedrooms. She looked out of the window to the back garden. It was large and recently turfed. It was very plain. She could hear Jim and the estate agent talking downstairs.
“So, tell us about the owner,” he said to the agent.
“A woman owns it. She wants a quick sale as her and her partner are hoping to buy a house in Cornwall. He was in an accident and she wants him to recuperate by the sea.”
“Is that why the asking price is so low?” Jim said, sceptical that they could afford somewhere so big.
“She just wants it gone to free up the cash. She tried her hand at property developing and to be honest I think she pushed it too far. She has finished this place but I think she needs cash quick as she invested everything into it.” The estate agent said. “In fact, I think she’d even take an offer below the asking price.”
Jim came upstairs and looked around. He squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “This would be perfect for the kids.” They went downstairs and looked around again. Then they stood outside.
“Whoever is selling it at this low price is an idiot. Let’s buy it quick before someone else takes it,” Rebecca said. Jim frowned, not sure how he felt about being spontaneous. The estate agent came over to them, an expectant look on his face.
“So then, what do you think?”
“Yes, we’ll make an offer today,” he said. “We want to buy Alfred House. We’ll take it.”
The Haunting of Woodchester Mansion
By Riley Amitrani
Prologue
St. Briavels, Gloucestershire, UK, 1840 to 1950s
The Woodchester Mansion, set on the border of the Wye Valley of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB) just west of the River Severn remained unfinished since its construction had begun in 1835. It is an unassuming structure, much like any of the other monolithic structures that was but one of many similar castles of the day. There were any number of legends surrounding the large edifice, but for the most part they were just that…legends, myths, folklore. Whatever the truth might have been regarding the rough stone mansion, it had the reputation for miles around as one of the scariest and reputedly most haunted locations in all of England—some said anywhere on the planet. No one could ever really say how or why the Woodchester came to have this reputation, but all the same it endured with that aura through the years.
The original mansion was built by the Ducie family, a wealthy and well-known aristocratic family whose lineage went back generations. It was cloudy as to how the Ducies had come to amass the enormous wealth they possessed, but there was no doubt as to them being far and away above all the other people of the time, both in status and affluence. The mansion was under final construction when the family took actual possession of it in 1837, but one of the more colorful legends associated with the mansion tells of the family fleeing the home they had spent so much time money on when the Second Earl of Ducie, Robert, spotted his father sitting at the long formal dining table during an extravagant dinner party that his wife was hosting in 1840.
This might not have been so unusual, except that the Earl’s father had died in 1802. The Earl went pale and looked ghastly ill as he dropped his goblet in mid-speech, all his guests looking on in confusion as the family heirloom bounced across the stone floor. No one else, reportedly, had seen the apparition, but the Earl was so horrified and frightened by the specter, that he packed up his entire family and they left promptly the next morning. Word soon spread that Robert had suffered some sort of breakdown, seeing his dead father on the anniversary of the man’s death. They were ridiculed and ostracized from then on out. Robert died soon afterward, never being able to recover from the sight, so the legend goes.
The mansion sat unoccupied, still in its partially finished condition, until William Leigh, a little-known man of unknown origin stepped in to purchase the Woodchester in 1845. William had strong Catholic beliefs, and it was his intention to complete the construction using Gothic Architecture as his guide. Leigh had a clear vision of what the new Woodchester should be, but an architect by the name of Benjamin Bucknall, who was working with Leigh on the completion of the mansion had a different vision. They argued and fought over what the final version of the mansion should be, but in the end no consensus could ever be reached. The disagreements had gotten so violent and vitriolic that Leigh walked away from it all.
He gave over the project to Bucknall with great regret, but knew that the two of them would never be able to find common ground. Bucknall was thrilled. He had seen Leigh’s ideas as outdated and driven mostly by the man’s unbending religious fervor. The ideas, while not totally repulsive to Bucknall, were to him out-of-date and lacking creativity and imagination. He threw himself into the project fully, often neglecting other projects that he was involved in as well as his family and friends as his obsession with the Woodchester consumed him. Initially, the work went well. Bucknall had gathered a talented and dedicated construction team and they made great progress. Bucknall’s vision for the completion of the Woodchester seemed inevitable.
Then one day, in 1868, the construction came to an abrupt halt. There were conflicting stories as to why, some certainly dreamed up by the locals to perpetuate the legend of the place being haunted, which was drawing the curious from miles around. One of the more enduring stories was that there had been an unexplained and uninvestigated murder on the site that sent the construction team running in terror. Though colorful and entertaining for the locals, it was actually the fact that Bucknall had underestimated the scope of his vision and finally ran out of money.
The Woodchester sat again empty and forlorn for many years until World War II became another landmark for the mansion. Despite the widespread destruction and damage that England suffered at the hands of the Axis powers from unrelenting bombings, the Woodchester miraculously avoided it all. It simply decayed a bit with age and neglect, but somehow was spared the damage that a lot of Engla
nd saw elsewhere during the war. But after the war…that was when the real haunting of the mansion seemed to increase dramatically.
One event in particular had been pointed out as a major reason for this. It was well documented at the time, so it is likely to be true. And the locals took it and ran with it as it helped them immeasurably in their goal to perpetuate the old legends and myths of the ages. There had been a nearby bombing of a bridge just up the River Severn during the war that caused a complete collapse of the structure. A huge number of British soldiers perished by drowning in the incident and the empty mansion had been used to hold the men’s’ dead bodies for safekeeping until they could be transported elsewhere.
The bodies of the fallen soldiers were eventually moved on to their final resting places once the hostilities ceased and the Germans had been driven away from the area by Allied forces. The story that endured, though, was that although the physical bodies had been removed, their souls had become attached to the mansion, lingering in search of release from their former lives. They were, almost without exception, very young when they had died, and their sudden, violent, and unexpected deaths had hindered their spirits in being able to find peace. Or so the new legend went…
The Hunt For Ratings
West Latimer, Iowa, USA, 2017
Antony and Natalie Gathers had finally tied the knot. They had been together for longer than a lot of their married friends’ marriages had lasted in fact. It had been Antony who had been pushing for a few years that they get married, finally wearing down Natalie’s resistance. She still had bad memories of her parents’ turbulent and tempestuous relationship and she had promised herself from an early age that she was not going down that road. Natalie was perfectly happy with what she and Antony had, and was in no hurry to cause waves for them.
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