Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016
Page 52
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I had spent the last couple of weeks cleaning the cottage and going through my uncle’s papers. There were pages of childhood memories and family stories. I was learning things about the family I hadn’t heard about. Uncle John was eighteen years older than Mother. It sounded like she was wild, headstrong and carefree. The cottage had been left to both of them, which is why I had inherited it.
My mother’s old bedroom wasn’t quite ready for occupation so I would have to spend one more night in the bedroom over the kitchen. I heard footsteps and screeching coming from the attic. My arms were covered in goosebumps and I shivered.
Something or someone had been in the garden and pantry but who? Were there ghosts? There wasn’t any possibility of sleep now my mind was imagining all kinds of things. I took my large flashlight off the nightstand. After putting the old brass key ring in my pocket I started down the hallway towards the unused rooms.
My feet dragged as I went down the dimly lit hallway where I had seen shadowy figures. When I reached the alcove that concealed the attic door I paused looking around. The overhead light created a soft glow, but didn’t light up the corners that were filled with shadows, cobwebs, dust and dead flies.
I reached the narrow door and twisted the key in the lock. I cautiously opened it and couldn’t see anything in the darkness. My flashlight illuminated corners filled with cobwebs and a thick blanket of dust. I heard the crying again that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Stair treads squeaked no matter how careful I was. I shone my flashlight at the piles of boxes and trunks scattered around in a haphazard fashion. But how? The same thing had happened in the pantry. Who was doing this? A loose shutter banged against the narrow casing. Then I saw a skinny Blue Jay flying around squawking hoarsely.
“Oh, you poor thing.” I looked around. Could I catch him? The narrow planks creaked as I walked towards the window. I wiggled and pulled on the corner piece of jagged glass until it came out. I jumped when there was a flutter of wings and the gentle touch of a cold beak against my cheek.
“So you are one of my ghosts? Let’s get you back outside.” I held my hand underneath his breast hoping he would hop down. He slowly edged his way towards the open space, slipped outside and flew away into the night. I closed the shutters and fastened them securely. That would have to do until the window was fixed.