Ghosts

Chapter 13

There was a bumping sound. It was right above her head and it had woken her. She wasn't sure of the time, but it was pitch black. She had decided to stay the night again, in case Uncle Ben and Aunt Daphne appeared. They hadn't. Until that moment, anyway. Whatever was making that noise, was in the bedroom above the lounge. Something else haunted her, other than what was up there. Mrs Friar's words. “Lights in the house. Something moving about. I saw it with my own eyes.” 'Right. Think on, Violet Shaydes.' A scraping sound, like a chair being dragged over bare floorboards. But there were no chairs, apart from the plastic ones she'd brought along. 'What are you going to do, Shaydes. Chicken out?' More haunting words. This time her mother's. “Maybe a hobo's been getting in?” More bumping and scraping. 'Oh, crap.' Beginning to think her mother had had the right idea, she looked for a weapon. 'Note to self, next time bring a tyre iron. Next time?' All she had was the torch and a plastic container with cheese and pickle sandwiches. 'Right. I can threaten him with a midnight snack.' Armed with the torch, she turned it on, casting terrifying shadows everywhere. Something moved. Her heart fluttered like the net curtain. 'Shit, Mom. You might have closed the damn window properly.' Out into the hallway, aiming the torch up the stairs. This was the exact same point in horror films, where she would be screaming, don't go up there, you stupid moron. He's the axe murderer. But the girl in the films always went up there, right? They had to. It was in the script. But she wasn't in a film. She had a choice. In front of her, the unknown. Behind her, the front door and safety. She started up the stairs.