A Haunting Curiosity

A Haunting Curiosity

I walked up to the rusty iron bar fences. I never thought I would make it here, especially after hearing so much about this place. I looked through the bars and could see why so many thought it to be the place of nightmares, but I thought surely it couldn’t be as bad as what they said. Surely it couldn’t be haunted, I mean it’s the sort of thing you hear about in books or television shows, not the stuff of reality.

But the stories that were told of what happened in this place were so consistently true, it was hard to ignore the possibility that they could be. But by this point my natural curiosity had finally got the better of me. I walked through the half-open gates, creaking as it opened and the metal dragged across the concrete floor, and I approached the dilapidated old mansion.

It had stood here for centuries, in the middle of the forest about 5 miles north of my home town. For as long as I’d lived here, all my life, I had heard about this place, and warned by many to stay away, but I was older now and fully capable of taking care of myself in any normal situation. I was 19 now, standing at a proud 6’2, strong and muscular at 11 stone (approx. 155lbs), and I had short brown hair and green eyes.

It was made of stone all the way around the outside, with all the windows broken and boarded up. I made my way slowly up to the decrepit mansion, occasionally checking my back in case I was being followed. I was clearly nervous despite my skepticism, because it was quite a frightful looking place. I made my way up to the large double doors, pushing it open as it seemed to be quite stiff, and made my way inside.

The door slowly creaked it’s way back closed, as I had assumed it would as it was on a slope. I promptly tried to analyse my surroundings before continuing, but at this stage I wasn’t planning on going back, I was just too curious. I could see the dark, rotting walls and dark wooden floorboards that were consistent throughout the house. The place was dimly lit with the evening light alone, with most of the windows boarded up, light only peering through the gaps in the structure, so it was hard to see anything at all.

I began to make my way through the house, which to my surprise looked somewhat smaller on the inside, going from room to room. With each room I passed I saw a common theme of furniture and chandeliers covered up by white sheets. I had soon covered the entire ground floor after circling back round to the hall, and made my way up the creaking stairs, thinking surely there must be something more interesting going on up here.

The sun was beginning to set and it gradually became darker, so I decided to try the light switch at the top of the stairs. It took a few seconds, but the lights flickered, and to my surprise turned on, though only dimly lighting the place as much as the evening light had earlier. But still I had a lingering thought as to why the lights were still working. Was someone still to this day maintaining the place?

I examined the remaining rooms upstairs to little avail, the same as downstairs with all the furniture covered in dusty white sheets. So with not even so much as a bad vibe, or an unexplained noise I made my way back downstairs with disappointment. I decided to wait there for a little longer, as to let the night sky come over, as I thought all good stories happen at night don’t they? So I sat on a dusty sheet-covered couch and waited.

An hour must have passed by my reckoning, it was visibly night time and the scariest thing thus far far was the not even chilling breeze that passed through the cracks in the house. At that point I decided to cut my losses and call it a night, I knew that it couldn’t be as bad as people said it was. Clearly they just had an overactive imagination, or outright lied about it hearing stories from others. I made my way back down the hall and got to the front doors. I reached for the handle and suddenly, I felt a blow to the head, and I was out cold.

I awoke to some discomfort, with the back of my head still aching from the blow, wondering what could have happened. As I gathered my thoughts, and my vision and feeling returning to me, I opened my eyes to a dark, orange-like room, which became clearer as I looked and saw either side of me were fire-lit torches placed in hooks attached to the walls. At that point I concentrated in what sort of position I had awoken to, and was shocked.

I found myself lying on a flat, stone pillar of sorts, about the height off the ground as a bed would be. It became worse as I resumed getting feeling back to my arms and legs, only to find I was tied to the four corners of the pillar by my aching wrists and ankles, by thick metal chain handcuffs, at the same time finding myself to be completely naked too. I struggled and tried pulling free, but was clearly not going anywhere. I could barely even lift my head, and could only now hoarsely scream cries of help.

After a few screams someone answered, the voice of an old man, out of the darkness from the back of the room, and I struggled to lift my head slightly to see who had responded. He came from out into the view from the dim light, clearly quite aged but not seeming to show it in his motions. After a brief silence, he greeted me, “Hello there visitor,” he said in a croaky deep voice, “I’m sure you have many questions, but let me first introduce myself.”

“Introduce yourself?!” I replied in a harsh tone, “Just get me out of here old man.”

“Now, now.” He continued, “That’s no way to treat your host.” Host? I thought to myself, before realising he may be the reason I got that blow to the head, and why I now find myself here.

He went on to say, “Now, as I was saying, My name is Jameson, and I’m the caretaker of this mansion.”

“Caretaker? Well by the looks of the place you clearly haven’t done a very good job of ‘taking care’ of it.” I replied with attitude, trying to hide my now very apparent fear.

He ignored my remarks and continued, “I have been the caretaker here for the past 150 years.” Now I was shocked. 150 years? I thought, impossible. Though at this stage I wasn’t in position to question.

“Let me continue by telling you a story. The year was 1878, the family that had been living here had just moved away, and left me in charge. One night I was outside in the enjoying the warm night, looking to the sky, and I saw a shooting star, or what I thought was one. But it was getting bigger, and then closer, and before I could react it came down with a crash and landed in the mansion’s garden.”

I found it hard to believe the old guys story, but still I listened, as he for the moment seemed like the only one who could possibly help me here.

He continued, “I went over to inspect the crash, not knowing what I would find.