A Ghost Story by Dylan 7DN

A mighty rumble of thunder shook the little village, like a lion playing with a defenceless mouse. Taunting the village and its inhabitants, it persisted mercilessly, full of rage. They chose the decrepit house, not the safety of the night…

Huffing and puffing, Ewan and Jamie clambered up the hill road. Young and eager to explore, they couldn’t resist the thrill of exploring an old, abandoned house. The two 12-year olds were looking forward to this adventure.

The mood completely changed when they reached the front door. The soaked, black as coal, chipped wooden front door.

“It can’t be that bad!” exclaimed Jamie. One more high spirited than the other, the pair of unlikely explorers entered the house.

Lightning stabbing the village below, they entered the house and were greeted by the musty smell of dust and ash. A red cotton carpet lay before them with gold stitching on the sides. This lead to a polished oak staircase, glinting in the candlelight.

  The walls were adorned with paintings of figures with stern expressions. Either side of them were two suits of knight armour, black all over, except for a red feather upon the top of each. One was grasping a huge sword, with diamonds encrusted in the handle. While the other was proudly clutching an axe, made with the finest steel the village would see. Chandeliers draped with cobwebs led up to the staircase. Everything had its place. Everything was in its place.

As their muddy boots trod across the perfectly laid carpet, the looming door slammed behind them.

 “We didn’t close that” whispered Jamie. They immediately regretted turning around, just as their brain ordered them to. Nothing. Except, for the door. It was different on the inside than the outside. Like the staircase, it was polished oak. Not the rotting wood on the outside.

Driven by their curiosity, they ventured further into the house.

“Let’s go in there!” whispered Jamie although he himself wasn’t sure why he was whispering. A light brown door with a golden-tainted door knob lay before them. Cautiously, they turned the pristine door knob and entered the room. Carefully closing the door behind them, they gasped in amazement. Red velvet chairs were perfectly placed. In the corner a grand piano, polished to the point of being a possible slip hazard, stood observer across the room.

“Look at that book!” stated Ewan. “It’s massive!”

Eagerly flipping through the pages, crammed with the tongue of Shakespeare, they enjoyed the delightful smell of an old book.

“This is boring!” moaned Jamie. Both turned sharply around on their heels and stood shocked. The door was left ajar. Not closed as they had left it but slightly opened. Beethoven’s famous pieces filled the room, but neither of the boys could play the piano. Nor were they trying to play the piano.

“Let’s get out of here,” mouthed Ewan to Jamie. As they edged closer to the door, they caught sight of the silver mirror. All three of them were standing in the mirror. Ewan, Jamie and it.

It. It was there. It was staring at them. It bored its eyes into them. It was blue, it looked like it was made up of gases. It disappeared.

“What was that?” inquired Jamie, as if Ewan knew. “Trick of the light,” answered Jamie to his own question.

“We didn’t light the candles. They were alight when were came in.” exclaimed Ewan. “Think about it. Whenever we look up to the house the lights are off. When we came, they were lighted. As if were expected,” trembled Ewan. They kept on exploring, with Jamie comforting himself with the illusion of light, and Ewan persisting on, despite being scared to breaking point.

Venturing out of the piano room, they climbed the staircase and were greeted by two more flights, either side of them. They chose right. Up, and up and up. After what seemed like an infinity they reached the top and entered the first door in of five, each side of the wall.

Suddenly, they heard a speaking. Squeeeeeaaaaaak. I continued, and didn’t end. In their chosen room there was a huge cylinder in the centre of the room and two cupboards at the back. Cobwebs draped everything. Barrels of gunpowder lay in corner. Again there was that squeaking noise again. Louder this time.

“It’s coming from that cupboard,” exclaimed Ewan.

“Let’s find out what’s making it then, scaredy cat,” replied Jamie. Despite Ewan’s pleads to leave Jamie boldly stepped forward. Increasing volume, Jamie stepped towards the cupboard each step was taken with great care. To say he was scared would be an understatement. He was petrified. Slowly and ever so carefully, he continued. When he reached the cupboard door, the noise stopped. As his hand touched the handle, it started again louder than before. His body feeding of the adrenalin, he turned the handle to reveal rats.

“It’s just some rats Ewan!” called Jamie. “Ewan? Ewan?”

BANG!

Wood chips flew everywhere, cutting Jamie’s face. He slowly turned his head. The finest steel the village would see lay before his eyes. As fast as lightening the axe with-drawed and the knight in shining black armour raised its weapon above its head. Jamie slid under the knights open legs as he cracked the rotting wood with his tool of death. Lay before him was Ewan, with his mouth covered by the hand of the sword-wielding knight. It led Ewan into the cylinder and they disappeared.

“No!” yelled Jamie, although his shout was cut short by an axe hitting the wooden floor. Dashing out of the door, Jamie hurried along the corridor.

Eventually making his way down the stairs, he was given a choice. He could either enter the piano room, but his common-sense told him that was a ridiculous idea, especially with it. To his left, was another door. It was identical to the piano room’s door. He chose the new door.

The smell of dust and ash was even stronger in here. Grimacing at the smell, Jamie dared to sit down on one of the sofas. It was obviously some sort of living room. There were two crimson sofas, a china umbrella pot, an oil painting of yet another stern figure, plenty of candles, and a huge, black menacing fireplace was to his right. Cream walls made it stand out even more. Antique vases were placed carefully on antique stands draped with antique red clothes with antique gold stitching, just like the antique carpet. Exhausted and confused Jamie lost his battle with sleep and went into a deep slumber and dreamed about his cosy house.

“RUN FOR IT!”

Waking up slowly, Jamie was shocked at what he saw. It was another thing. Dressed in the strangest of clothes

“QUICK!” it shouted.

It looked like it was pushing people out of the way. It looked like it was made out of the same stuff as it was made of. The figure started running, before falling over in a puff of black smoke and fading away. It smelt even more of ash and dust even more then.

The creak of the door alerted Jamie and sent the hairs on the back of his head standing to attention. Slowly turning, he was met with a horrible sight. The knights. Both of them. Backing into the corner Jamie was even more scared than before.

“What have you done with my friend?” he yelled. Both of them ignored him and carried on moving forward in that menacing manner. The axe wielding knight lifted its axe high above its head and CLUNK. The knight fell before Jamie whilst the other knight had its right arm bent and looked as if it just hit the other knight with his elbow. It took its helmet off.

“Ewan!” exclaimed Jamie.

Sure enough it was Ewan.

“What happened? How did you get the armour?” Jamie questioned. Suddenly, Ewan turned a blue sort of colour before fading just like the strangely dressed man. The knight armour took its helmet, and positioned it on its head. It raised its sword but Jamie was prepared. He charged at the knight knocking it over before fleeing the room. The knight gave chase before stopping in the hallway and the armour just collapsed onto the floor. Then, Ewan entered the hallway through the front door. He looked like he was made out of blue gas like it and the funny dressed man. He was speaking to thin air. He was saying exactly what he said when he entered the house. Just as they had done that morning, Ewan entered the piano room. This made Jamie notice the front door. He ran towards it and left the house, tears streaming from his face. He dashed home, and let himself in.

“Mum! Mum! Something’s happened to Ewan! Quick! We have to call the police! Now!” he called.

“Ewan? Who’s Ewan? You’re pulling my leg. Shepard’s pie for tea love,” said his Mum softly.

“What?!” shouted Jamie

Jamie lived until the age of 88. He survived a volcano eruption that turned out to be the mountain where the house was situated. He never forgot Ewan, unlike all the others. Even Ewan’s family never knew him. He also never forgot it the funny clothes man, or the knights. He was obviously very troubled by the occurring’s of that night. He just counted himself lucky that he survived.

On the 76^th anniversary of the night where Ewan stopped being there, a mighty rumble of thunder shook the village. It was like a lion playing with a mouse. It taunted the village mercilessly…