The Curse of Wetherley House

by Amy Cross

  The girls glance at one another, before turning back to me and nodding in unison.

  “This fence marks the garden,” I continue, tapping the top of the nearest post. “It's fine to play out there in the forest on the other side, but in here it's kind of off-limits, if you know what I mean. Sorry, I just don't even know if it's safe to be here.”

  “We just wanted to look at the house,” the girl on the left says, causing the other girls to giggle.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “We wanted to scare ourselves,” the second girl explains.

  “Well, I understand that,” I tell her, “but you have the whole rest of the forest to -”

  “There's no-one in that part,” the first girl says, interrupting me.

  “There are people in this part, though,” the third girl adds.

  “Huh.” Staring at them, I can't help feeling a little freaked out. “So you guys are triplets, right?”

  They pause, before the first girl finally nods.

  “That's cool,” I continue, trying not to come across as some kind of dull adult killjoy. “The thing is, I really need to ask if you could stay on the other side of the fence. Sorry, I know that might be boring, but we just can't have people we don't know playing on our property. My father died the other day and we're still kind of figuring the property out. There's no -”

  “Can we go to the stable?” the third girl asks.

  “The what?”

  “The stable? It's -”

  Suddenly the second girl nudges her.

  “It's not there anymore,” she whispers to her sister.

  “What isn't there?” I ask.

  All three of them turn to me.

  “The stable,” they all say.

  “I don't think the house has a stable,” I tell them, before remembering the wooden posts near the main building, which I guess could once have been some kind of outhouse. “I don't really know what was here before.”

  “There was a beautiful stable,” the first girl says. “We used to come close when no-one was around and look at the horses.”

  “So do people sneak out here a lot?” I ask, unable to shake the feeling that these girls seem very calm and composed for kids who can't be more than six or seven years old. “At night, maybe?”

  “At night?” The first girl's eyes open wider than ever, as if I've said the most shocking thing. “Why would anyone come out here at night?”

  “We're not idiots,” the second girl points out.

  “The men aren't watching the house anymore,” the third girl adds. “They've gone away. The ones who were guarding it.”

  “So they let you three come here?” I ask cautiously.

  Two of the girls shake their heads, while the third simply continues to stare at me.

  “Okay,” I say, forcing a smile as I realize that they've got their own little game going on here, and that it's one I'm never going to understand. “I'm going to have to ask you to play on the other side of the fence. I'm sure you think I'm being really boring, but my sister and I don't even know if it's safe here. We wouldn't want one of your falling and hurting yourself. Do your parents even know that you're here?”

  The girls stare at me for a moment, before suddenly stepping forward and walking either side of me. Turning, I feel a flash of relief as they start climbing over the fence.

  “I'm sorry,” I continue. “Please don't think I'm being mean.”

  “We don't.”

  Once they're over the other side, they turn and look back at me.

  “How can you live in that house?” the first girl asks. “Aren't you scared?”

  “There's nothing to be scared of,” I reply, figuring that they must have been spooked by the same ghost stories that I've been told. “It's just a house, and the only people there are my sister and I. If you want to come and knock on the front door some day, we might be able to find a few biscuits and some glasses of milk. But please, don't play out here all alone, okay?”

  I wait for one of them to speak, but now they're just staring at me again.

  “We should go now,” the second girl says suddenly, turning to one of her sisters. “I don't like it here.”

  “I don't like it either,” the first girl replies.

  “I can feel her now,” the third girl adds. “Can't you? She's much stronger than before.”

  “Who is?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”

  “I think my sister might be right,” the first girl says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, we don't want to upset you. Being at Wetherley House is your decision.”

  “We're sorry we disturbed you,” the second girl adds. “We'll try not to do it again.”

  With that, all three of them turn and start tramping away through the forest.

  “Feel free to knock on the door!” I call out, stepping over to the fence and resting my hands on one of the wooden boards. I don't want to be a complete grinch. “Just stay out of the forest, okay?”

  Two of the girls keep walking, but the first stops and turns to me with a faint smile.

  “We don't want to interfere,” she says calmly. “We just wanted to watch.”

  “Watch what?”

  She shrugs.

  “Well,” I continue, figuring that they're just messing with me, “I'm sorry you didn't get to see anything.”

  “We didn't say we didn't see anything,” she replies. “We could see her inside your house. She was sitting at the kitchen table with that other woman. You were in the room too. Didn't you see her?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but I've got to admit the kid has done a pretty good job of freaking me out. Before I can say anything, she turns and hurries after her sisters, and I'm left standing alone at the fence as a cold wind blows against my back and the treetops rustle high above. In fact, the bad weather seems to be picking up a little, and I'm starting to think that maybe I've been out here long enough.

  Once the three freaky girls have disappeared into the distance, I turn and head back to the house.

  Hannah

  “Oh they knew exactly what they were doing,” I say with a smile as I wrap some more spaghetti around my fork. “Those three girls were trying to freak me out on purpose. They did a pretty good job, too.”

  Eating a mouthful of bolognese, I glance over at the other end of the dining table and see that Katie has barely touched her dinner. Night has fallen outside and I can see my own reflection in the window over her shoulder.

  “They can't have been more than eight,” I continue, “but these days kids hear all sorts of things, don't they? They probably know all about Wetherley House, and they thought they could scare me. There was something really weird about them. I invited them to come knock on the door some time, but I really hope they don't.”

  Again I wait for a reply, and again Katie seems almost to be in a trance, staring down at the tablecloth as if she's in another world.

  “So what were you doing in the basement?” I ask, deciding to try another tack.

  “I wasn't in the basement,” she replies suddenly, looking straight at me.

  “Earlier. While I was out in the forest. I saw you go down there.”

  She shakes her head.

  “I did,” I continue, unable to stifle a faint smile. “I saw you open the door and go down the steps, Katie. What's so fascinating down there?”

  “I didn't go to the basement,” she replies.

  “Katie, I saw -”

  “I didn't go to the basement,” she says again, and this time there's a hint of defiance in her voice, as if she wants me to shut up. “Are those men gone now?”

  “Men?” I pause, before realizing she means the impromptu neighborhood watch team that has apparently been keeping intruders out of Wetherley House for decades. “I think so. They said they'd stop if we wanted them to, and I didn't leave much doubt there.”

  “Good,” she says firmly.

  “I didn't know you felt so strongly,” I mutter, looking down at my food. I can someho
w tell that she's still watching me, and sure enough I look up after a moment and meet her gaze. “Fine, don't tell me about the basement,” I continue. “I mean, even if you wanted to go down there, it wouldn't actually matter, would it? If you enjoy spending time in a dark, empty room, then I guess you should knock yourself out.”

  I wait for her to reply, to maybe throw some witty or snippy comeback at me, but she simply looks down at her food as if she's lost in her thoughts. I want to say something, to ask if she wants to talk about Daddy, and I'm starting to think that maybe Katie's struggling more than I'd realized. I know I should probably just leave her alone and let her tell me if she wants to talk, but after a few seconds I realize that I can't possibly leave my sister in such an awful state.

  Getting to my feet, I head around the table and reach down to give her a hug.

  “I'm going to bed,” she says suddenly, slipping out of the chair and hurrying to the door, leaving her plate almost completely full.

  “Katie -”

  “You should go to bed too,” she adds, not even looking back at me as she heads out into the hallway. A moment later I hear her walking up the stairs, and finally her bedroom door swings shut.

  Left standing alone in the dining room, I can't help struggling as I try to figure out what just happened. There's a part of me that wants to go up and knock on Katie's door, but at the same time I feel I should probably leave her alone and let her come to me when she's ready. She always talks about how she and Daddy weren't particularly close, although I know that deep down she might be using that explanation as a kind of defense mechanism. Still trying to work out how I can help her, I head through to the hallway and hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, before forcing myself to accept that she might need some space.

  She knows where I am.

  Turning to go back to the table, I suddenly see that the basement door has been left slightly open. I'm sure it was bolted when I came back from my walk in the forest, but when I wander over and pull the handle I find that the door creaks open all the way. I immediately feel the cold air against my face as I peer down the wooden steps into the darkness. I want to just shut the door and slide the bolt back across, but after a moment I see that the cord hanging from the light switch is much shorter than before, as if Katie has been fiddling with it. I reach out and give it a pull, and to my surprise the light comes on at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Huh,” I whisper, before figuring that I might as well check what else she's been doing. Making my way down the stairs, which creak and in some cases even seem to flex slightly under my weight, I finally get to the bottom and see that Katie seems to have been very busy in the far corner.

  Heading over to take a closer look, I find several knives and trowels on the cracked concrete floor. I crouch down and peer at one of the rotten wooden timbers that runs vertically from the concrete and toward the main part of the house, and while most of the wood is dark brown, there's now a lighter patch where Katie seems to have been scraping through the rot as if she's been looking for something. To my surprise, I realize that there seems to be some movement deep in the wood, and when I lean even closer I see to my utter disgust that several yellowy-white maggots are wriggling in the cracks.

  “Gross,” I mutter, watching one particular maggot as if makes its way across the surface of the wood.

  Looking further up the wooden post, I see half a dozen more maggots, and I'm starting to realize that Wetherley House might have a much more serious problem than I'd realized. I guess Katie has been down here taking a closer look, and maybe she didn't want to worry me by telling me what she'd found. A moment later, feeling something wriggling on my right hand, I look down and see that somehow a maggot has found its way onto my flesh around one of my knuckles.

  “Get off!” I hiss, flicking the maggot away before getting to my feet.

  Looking up toward the ceiling, I'm shocked to see several more maggots on the wood, and sure enough another quickly falls down, landing in my hair.

  “No, don't do that!” I gasp, stepping back and frantically running my fingers through my hair, trying to find the stowaway. My mind is already filled with horrific thoughts of the maggot wriggling into my ear and making itself at home, so I'm relieved when I finally feel the little critter and pull him free.

  Still, as I head back to the stairs, I can't help running my fingers through my hair again and again, just in case any more maggots fell down.

  “This is the most disgusting thing in the world,” I stammer as I hurry back up to the door. As I get to the top, I pull the cord to switch the light off, and then I step out into the hallway, only to find that Katie is waiting for me.

  Startled, I step back against the wall.

  “It's disgusting down there!” I point out. “What are all those maggots doing? Do we need -”

  Before I can finish, I see that there's a large black bin-liner on the floor, next to Katie's feet. The bin-liner seems to be moving slightly, accompanied by a rustling sound, and I'm shocked to see a couple of maggots near the top. Stepping closer, I peer inside and see thousands and thousands of maggots wriggling in a huge swarm. Some have managed to make their way to the edge of the bin-liner, and a couple have fallen onto the floor.

  “Did you scrape all of those out of the wall?” I ask, taking a step back and turning to Katie. “What the hell is wrong with this house?”

  “You should go to sleep,” she replies calmly.

  “Did you call someone?”

  I wait for a reply, but she simply stares at me.

  Checking my watch, I see that it's almost 10pm.

  “It's too late tonight,” I continue, trying not to panic too much, “but tomorrow morning we have to call someone to come and take a look at this. Why didn't you mention it sooner? The whole house could be infested! We might have to have the place torn down!”

  Unable to stop staring at the bag of maggots for a moment, I finally turn and push the door shut before sliding the bolt across.

  “And you have to get that bag out of here,” I tell her, grabbing the free newspaper from the table and rolling it up, before trying to use one end to knock a few maggots escapees back into the bag. “Katie, are you listening to me? We have to nip this infestation in the bud as quickly as possible.” I manage to get most of the maggots into the bag, but a couple fall onto the bare floorboards and I use the rolled-up paper to squash them. “I hate doing this,” I continue, “but we can't let them get anywhere else. For all we know, they could already by in the walls all around us. I'm not squeamish, but I really don't like this!”

  Realizing that Katie hasn't said anything while I've been talking, I look up and see her towering above me.

  “This is serious!” I hiss. “We have to get on top of the problem!”

  I wait, but she doesn't reply. She's still just staring down at me.

  “It's okay,” I continue, setting the paper aside and getting to my feet before brushing myself down just in case any more maggots are on me. “I'll sort it tomorrow. I'll call someone. Can you just do me one favor? Can you get rid of that disgusting bag? And make sure you dump it far away from the house.”

  She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something, but she still seems strangely zoned out.

  “Okay, then,” I say, figuring that she's in no fit state to help, “I'll get rid of the bag, shall I?.”

  “You should go to sleep,” she tells me.

  “Sure, after I've done this.” Heading over to the dresser, I start searching through the drawers for a pair of gloves I can use while I take the disgusting bag of maggots outside. “I'm gonna need a long, hot bath when I'm done, though. I swear, it's gonna be a while before I don't feel like I've got maggots on me somewhere. You haven't seen any upstairs, have you?”

  Reaching up, I run the fingers of my left hand through my hair again, just in case there are more maggots. Hearing a floorboard creak behind me, I figure Katie has finally snapped out of her daze and is coming over to help.
<
br />   “Have you seen any gloves around here?” I ask, turning to her. “I'm sure -”

  Stopping suddenly, I find that she's right behind me, and she's holding the bag of writhing maggots. Some of the maggots are already on her hand and wrists, but she doesn't seem to have noticed.

  “You should go to sleep,” she tells me, her voice trembling slightly.

  “Katie -”

  Before I can finish, she suddenly lifts the bag up and places it over my head. I let out a cry as thousands of maggots tumble across my face and through my hair, but Katie grabs my shoulders and turns me around before pulling the bag tight around my neck. I try to push her away, only to find that her grip is too tight, and a moment later she forces me down onto my knees. As more and more maggots wriggle all around my head, I realize that I'm already starting to run out of air. Filled with panic, I start desperately gasping, only to inhale hundreds of maggots that quickly fall down the back of my throat, while more are already wriggling into my nose and ears.

  “Help me!” I scream, as I taste the foul, bitter maggots. I try to push Katie away, but she's holding me tighter than ever and I'm already barely able to breathe.

  Reaching up, I try to rip a hole in the front of the bag, but the material is too strong. I can feel the maggots wriggling beneath the plastic, covering my face.

  “It's like I told you,” Katie says yet again, her voice sounding muffled outside the bag. “Mary wants you to go to sleep.”

  Part Six

  1996

  Johnny

  “I'm too busy for this,” I tell Hannah as I head across the kitchen. “Don't go fussing around. Put the place on the market and get out of there, you don't need to turn it into a big job. And stop trying to make me feel bad for not coming down there. There's a limit to my availability. I have a life, remember.”

  I pause to pour myself a glass of water. Hannah's really getting on my nerves right now with her constant demands, and I'm sure she's going to whine on and on about how I'm not being supportive and how I'm causing problems and how I need to think of the family. All the usual bullshit. She doesn't understand the pressure I'm under now that Louisa is coming close to term. Hannah and Katie don't know what it's like to have responsibilities.