Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Ghost Stories / Paranormal
- Published: 05/13/2022
Jack Halls grabbed the last cardboard box from his car boot and went into their new house. Their new family home. His wife Jane was standing among the clutter that only a new home has. She stared around in wonder at the freshly painted rooms.
‘Can you believe we’re going to be living in a bungalow?’ she said.
‘It will be so strange not going upstairs to bed.’ he agreed.
Their new home was just perfect. It was bright and airy and open plan and was just how the estate agents had described it. She had said they were going to love it, and she was so right. As soon as they’d been shown the house they had fallen in love with it. Ideal for young children, it would so suit a family in their position. And now it was theirs.
Jack grabbed a box marked ‘Kitchen’ in black marker, and moved through the house. It would be hard work but once they had settled in they would have a wonderful family home.
Jane told Jack once again that the moving in and unpacking was part of the process, and part of the move. These were the days that they would look back on with fondness in the years to come. He nodded in agreement, still not looking forward to struggling to find things when he needed them. He would have to rummage through boxes to find things such as a tin opener or a pair of socks as he needed them.
That evening they flopped on the sofa in front of the television. Despite being nowhere near done with the unpacking, they stopped for the night. Today’s work was done. With their feet resting on boxes marked Lounge they chatted and watched the 80s sit-com repeats on TV.
Their conversation was disturbed by a strange sound. From the far end of the living room came a creaking, groaning sound. A shiver went through Jack. It sounded as though someone was walking up a flight of stairs. That was just impossible as the house was single storey.
‘What do you think that was?’ Jane asked.
‘Just house noises. We are new to this place, after all. Each house has its own sounds.’
He told himself it was indeed just house noises and that it was only his imagination conjuring up images of footsteps on staircases. This was, after all, the first time he’d lived in a bungalow. Who’d have thought being in a single storey home would be quite so strange?
When she woke the next morning Jane didn’t feel well at all. She felt queasy and a bit spaced out, a bit like being jet-lagged. When she mentioned it to Jack he smiled gently.
‘Jet-lag? We’ve not left Salford.’
Jane managed a smile.
She spent the day under the duvet, leaving Jack to take care of everything. She drifted in and out of sleep all day and rested up. She could hear Jack pottering and shifting and sorting around the house. She could have sworn at several times during the day that she heard the patter of footsteps from above. She must have dreamed it, though, as there was no upstairs, no first floor.
It was early evening by the time she felt ready to face the world and the new house. She threw on her comfiest grey tracksuit and left her bedroom.
Six year old Lizzie called out to her, 'Mummy, mummy'.
‘Hey, poppet. It’s time for you to go to bed.’ said Jane.
‘But you’re just getting up, Mummy.’
‘Mummy’s not been feeling well, love.’
A look of concern flashed over Lizzie’s face.
‘It’s okay, love. I think it’s just the stress of the move.’
‘Do you like it here?’
‘Yes, it’s perfect.’ replied Jane.
‘Yes,’ beamed Lizzie. ‘yes, it is.’
At Lizzie’s insistence, Jane read her a bedtime story about a bear that went on his holidays, and got her settled down for the night. Once she was snuggled up under the quilt and dozing, Jane crept from the room and joined Jack in the living room.
‘Okay?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, fine. Fast sleep.’ she whispered.
Jack patted her on the thigh as she snuggled up beside him on the sofa.
Jane smiled in the darkness as they lay in bed that evening. The house had so much potential. It was just perfect. The low bungalow looked like something from an Australian soap opera. She stretched and sighed contentedly, as Jack snored beside her. The sound of thundering footsteps from directly above them made them both sit bolt upright. It was as though someone was stomping around on the rooftop. A high-pitched voice sang out as the footsteps went on. Jane’s heart pounded in her chest. She turned to her husband. He stared at her, eyes wide in shock. He shrugged into a fleece and stormed outside. Jane wrapped herself in a dressing gown and perched on the edge of the bed. She called out for Jack to be careful. Jack closed the door behind him, leaving Jane in the suddenly-quiet darkness.
He returned a few minutes later, looking confused.
‘Nothing. Nobody there at all. No scallies trespassing, no burglars. Nothing.’
He tossed the fleece to the bedroom carpet and climbed into bed. They lay in bed and tried to get back to sleep, but listening out for other noises.
While they breakfasted on tea and toast the next morning neither of them mentioned the weird events of the night before. It was as though, if they did not speak of it, then it hadn’t happened, or at the very least, could be put down to those strange things that happen now and again during the darkest hours of the night.
Jack detailed exactly what he needed from his trip to the hardware store that afternoon, while Jane waved a hand towards a stack of boxes that were next to be tackled.
Jane was just deciding where to put an ornament of a black Labrador when Lizzie called for her to come and play. Jane smiled, plonking the ornament down and heading for Lizzie’s bedroom. As she played all kinds of games with Lizzie and brushed her hair and read her stories, she decided that the house stuff could wait. They would get there in the end. One step at a time. Lizzie suggested a game of Connect Four with the excitement only a six year old could muster.
‘Let’s play this next, Mum.’
Jane laughed and nodded.
Over the next few evenings the nights continued with the strange noises coming from above. At first Jack would dash outside, determined to catch whoever or whatever it was that was tormenting them. Eventually, knowing that he would find no clue as to whatever was going on, he and Jane simply tried to ignore the racket and try to get back to sleep.
One evening instead of the usual stomping and banging, Jane heard Lizzie calling out for her. Jane flew out the door and across the house to her. Lizzie was standing on her bed, clutching her teddy bear, tears streaming down her face.
‘What is it, love?’
‘I had a bad dream.’ she sobbed. ‘It’s this house. I don’t like it.’
Jane scooped her up with motherly tenderness and told her everything’s okay in a soothing voice. She hoped she was convincingly reassuring. She wasn’t entirely sure if things were okay or not. This perfect home did seem to have something going on under the façade.
Jane calmed Lizzie down and tucked her in with one of her favourite teddies. She assured her, over and over, that everything was okay.
The next night, Jane was once again woken by Lizzie. Her shrill shrieking and screaming was piercing. Jane darted out of the bedroom.
She found Lizzie on her bedroom floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, and was rocking back and forth.
‘Lizzie, honey, what is it?’
‘I dreamed you left me.’ she sobbed.
‘Don’t be daft.’ Jane purred, picking her up.
It took Jane a while to settle her down. She told her stories and sang to her and spoke of holidays they would take in the summer, of barbecues they would have in the lovely garden of their new house. Finally, Lizzie drifted off to sleep. Jane slipped from her bedroom as quietly as she could.
The following morning while Jane and Jack arranged the kitchen, stocking cupboards and drawers with cutlery and pots and pans, Jane voiced her concerns.
‘I’m worried about Lizzie.’
‘Who? What are you talking about?’ Jack asked.
‘Don’t joke like that. I’m worried about Lizzie, our little girl.’
‘We don’t have a little girl. We are still trying for a baby. That’s why we moved here, to get ourselves ready and to seriously try for a baby.’
‘Then who,’ Jane asked incredulous, ‘have I been putting to bed every night?’
‘Stop it.’ Jack yelled. ‘You are freaking me out.’
‘I’ll show you her room.’
‘Go on, then.’
She ran to the door and flung it open. Instead of the child’s bedroom was a small bathroom. She swore in frustration. New houses always took a while to find your way around. They tried the next door. The living room lay ahead. She charged into the living room. She tried the next door she came to, Jack hovering at her elbow, concern and fear for her in his eyes. The next room was their own bedroom.
They heard sounds from above. It really did seem as though someone was upstairs, even though that was impossible. The light patter of feet was like a child running up and down. Jane turned and gasped. Jack followed her gaze. In the corner of the room, was a staircase that hadn’t been there before. The sound of a little girl singing to herself drifted down the stairs.
This Perfect Home(CPlatt)
Jack Halls grabbed the last cardboard box from his car boot and went into their new house. Their new family home. His wife Jane was standing among the clutter that only a new home has. She stared around in wonder at the freshly painted rooms.
‘Can you believe we’re going to be living in a bungalow?’ she said.
‘It will be so strange not going upstairs to bed.’ he agreed.
Their new home was just perfect. It was bright and airy and open plan and was just how the estate agents had described it. She had said they were going to love it, and she was so right. As soon as they’d been shown the house they had fallen in love with it. Ideal for young children, it would so suit a family in their position. And now it was theirs.
Jack grabbed a box marked ‘Kitchen’ in black marker, and moved through the house. It would be hard work but once they had settled in they would have a wonderful family home.
Jane told Jack once again that the moving in and unpacking was part of the process, and part of the move. These were the days that they would look back on with fondness in the years to come. He nodded in agreement, still not looking forward to struggling to find things when he needed them. He would have to rummage through boxes to find things such as a tin opener or a pair of socks as he needed them.
That evening they flopped on the sofa in front of the television. Despite being nowhere near done with the unpacking, they stopped for the night. Today’s work was done. With their feet resting on boxes marked Lounge they chatted and watched the 80s sit-com repeats on TV.
Their conversation was disturbed by a strange sound. From the far end of the living room came a creaking, groaning sound. A shiver went through Jack. It sounded as though someone was walking up a flight of stairs. That was just impossible as the house was single storey.
‘What do you think that was?’ Jane asked.
‘Just house noises. We are new to this place, after all. Each house has its own sounds.’
He told himself it was indeed just house noises and that it was only his imagination conjuring up images of footsteps on staircases. This was, after all, the first time he’d lived in a bungalow. Who’d have thought being in a single storey home would be quite so strange?
When she woke the next morning Jane didn’t feel well at all. She felt queasy and a bit spaced out, a bit like being jet-lagged. When she mentioned it to Jack he smiled gently.
‘Jet-lag? We’ve not left Salford.’
Jane managed a smile.
She spent the day under the duvet, leaving Jack to take care of everything. She drifted in and out of sleep all day and rested up. She could hear Jack pottering and shifting and sorting around the house. She could have sworn at several times during the day that she heard the patter of footsteps from above. She must have dreamed it, though, as there was no upstairs, no first floor.
It was early evening by the time she felt ready to face the world and the new house. She threw on her comfiest grey tracksuit and left her bedroom.
Six year old Lizzie called out to her, 'Mummy, mummy'.
‘Hey, poppet. It’s time for you to go to bed.’ said Jane.
‘But you’re just getting up, Mummy.’
‘Mummy’s not been feeling well, love.’
A look of concern flashed over Lizzie’s face.
‘It’s okay, love. I think it’s just the stress of the move.’
‘Do you like it here?’
‘Yes, it’s perfect.’ replied Jane.
‘Yes,’ beamed Lizzie. ‘yes, it is.’
At Lizzie’s insistence, Jane read her a bedtime story about a bear that went on his holidays, and got her settled down for the night. Once she was snuggled up under the quilt and dozing, Jane crept from the room and joined Jack in the living room.
‘Okay?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, fine. Fast sleep.’ she whispered.
Jack patted her on the thigh as she snuggled up beside him on the sofa.
Jane smiled in the darkness as they lay in bed that evening. The house had so much potential. It was just perfect. The low bungalow looked like something from an Australian soap opera. She stretched and sighed contentedly, as Jack snored beside her. The sound of thundering footsteps from directly above them made them both sit bolt upright. It was as though someone was stomping around on the rooftop. A high-pitched voice sang out as the footsteps went on. Jane’s heart pounded in her chest. She turned to her husband. He stared at her, eyes wide in shock. He shrugged into a fleece and stormed outside. Jane wrapped herself in a dressing gown and perched on the edge of the bed. She called out for Jack to be careful. Jack closed the door behind him, leaving Jane in the suddenly-quiet darkness.
He returned a few minutes later, looking confused.
‘Nothing. Nobody there at all. No scallies trespassing, no burglars. Nothing.’
He tossed the fleece to the bedroom carpet and climbed into bed. They lay in bed and tried to get back to sleep, but listening out for other noises.
While they breakfasted on tea and toast the next morning neither of them mentioned the weird events of the night before. It was as though, if they did not speak of it, then it hadn’t happened, or at the very least, could be put down to those strange things that happen now and again during the darkest hours of the night.
Jack detailed exactly what he needed from his trip to the hardware store that afternoon, while Jane waved a hand towards a stack of boxes that were next to be tackled.
Jane was just deciding where to put an ornament of a black Labrador when Lizzie called for her to come and play. Jane smiled, plonking the ornament down and heading for Lizzie’s bedroom. As she played all kinds of games with Lizzie and brushed her hair and read her stories, she decided that the house stuff could wait. They would get there in the end. One step at a time. Lizzie suggested a game of Connect Four with the excitement only a six year old could muster.
‘Let’s play this next, Mum.’
Jane laughed and nodded.
Over the next few evenings the nights continued with the strange noises coming from above. At first Jack would dash outside, determined to catch whoever or whatever it was that was tormenting them. Eventually, knowing that he would find no clue as to whatever was going on, he and Jane simply tried to ignore the racket and try to get back to sleep.
One evening instead of the usual stomping and banging, Jane heard Lizzie calling out for her. Jane flew out the door and across the house to her. Lizzie was standing on her bed, clutching her teddy bear, tears streaming down her face.
‘What is it, love?’
‘I had a bad dream.’ she sobbed. ‘It’s this house. I don’t like it.’
Jane scooped her up with motherly tenderness and told her everything’s okay in a soothing voice. She hoped she was convincingly reassuring. She wasn’t entirely sure if things were okay or not. This perfect home did seem to have something going on under the façade.
Jane calmed Lizzie down and tucked her in with one of her favourite teddies. She assured her, over and over, that everything was okay.
The next night, Jane was once again woken by Lizzie. Her shrill shrieking and screaming was piercing. Jane darted out of the bedroom.
She found Lizzie on her bedroom floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, and was rocking back and forth.
‘Lizzie, honey, what is it?’
‘I dreamed you left me.’ she sobbed.
‘Don’t be daft.’ Jane purred, picking her up.
It took Jane a while to settle her down. She told her stories and sang to her and spoke of holidays they would take in the summer, of barbecues they would have in the lovely garden of their new house. Finally, Lizzie drifted off to sleep. Jane slipped from her bedroom as quietly as she could.
The following morning while Jane and Jack arranged the kitchen, stocking cupboards and drawers with cutlery and pots and pans, Jane voiced her concerns.
‘I’m worried about Lizzie.’
‘Who? What are you talking about?’ Jack asked.
‘Don’t joke like that. I’m worried about Lizzie, our little girl.’
‘We don’t have a little girl. We are still trying for a baby. That’s why we moved here, to get ourselves ready and to seriously try for a baby.’
‘Then who,’ Jane asked incredulous, ‘have I been putting to bed every night?’
‘Stop it.’ Jack yelled. ‘You are freaking me out.’
‘I’ll show you her room.’
‘Go on, then.’
She ran to the door and flung it open. Instead of the child’s bedroom was a small bathroom. She swore in frustration. New houses always took a while to find your way around. They tried the next door. The living room lay ahead. She charged into the living room. She tried the next door she came to, Jack hovering at her elbow, concern and fear for her in his eyes. The next room was their own bedroom.
They heard sounds from above. It really did seem as though someone was upstairs, even though that was impossible. The light patter of feet was like a child running up and down. Jane turned and gasped. Jack followed her gaze. In the corner of the room, was a staircase that hadn’t been there before. The sound of a little girl singing to herself drifted down the stairs.
Lillian Kazmierczak
06/01/2022Oh that was a bit eerie! Sometimes subtle spoking is scarier than full on horror. You hit it right on the head. Congratulations on short story star of the day!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Patrick S. Smith
06/01/2022I should have waited until closer to bed time to read this. Has a wonderfully suspenseful horror vibe to it. Would have helped me sleep well.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
06/01/2022I am with the thread on this one: Yikes! Congrats on StoryStar of the Day.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gerald R Gioglio
06/01/2022CP, nice, compelling piece. Yikes! Remind me not to move to that ranch house I've been thinking about. Take care, Jerry
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
CPlatt
06/02/2022Thanks Gerald. A family member moved into a bungalow recently and that gave me the idea.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
05/31/2022The pic doesn't really work for this story, but the story itself is a great creepy twisty horror short. Thanks, CP, and happy short story STAR of the day.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
CPlatt
06/01/2022Completely agree about the pic. I really struggled finding a pic to go with the story. Thanks for your support, and I'm thrilled about the Star of the day! Thank you so much.
COMMENTS (11)