by David Smith
***
The houses were built, and became homes. A shopping precinct was soon filled with hopeful businesses. The development slowly grew into a bustling community. But all was not as it should be. There seemed to be problems with the drains; where else could that foul smell be coming from on a warm, still evening? In the gardens, plants would inexplicably blacken and die. And that strange business of Mrs Thompson's spaniel, Charlie: one minute he was yapping and scraping at something on the patio; next minute he was gone -vanished without trace from a secure, walled back yard. ‘And there was that bloody stink again,’ Mrs Thompson had sobbed.
Then Amanda Philips noticed a strange patch of grey mould on the floor of the basement garage.
‘John? Come and look at this! We need to get the developers in to sort this out. Mould like that in a new house? And god, what a stink.’
Her husband came quickly down the stairs, while Amanda went to fetch kitchen cleaner and a scrubbing brush. He smarted at the appalling smell, and stared at the floor. How weird! He could almost imagine the stain was growing as he looked. There was a finger of mould pointing in his direction. He prodded it tentatively with his shoe.
‘Let's hope this cleans it up for now,’ said his wife, coming back with bleach and a plastic bucket. ‘John? John? JOHN...’!
Through the Door
Carolyn Gray
Title inspired by the Victorian ghost stories, but story written before seeing “The Cold Embrace”.
