filtered up from below his room. His gaze shifted toward the bedroom door. He shuddered when he heard the next groan; it was the familiar sound of the stairs. The sounds continued a few seconds apart. Who or what was after him? Panicked, he looked around the darkened room for something to defend himself. He settled on a wooden rod that he had left on the floor to replace the warped clothes hanging rod in the closet. With it firmly in both hands, he slowly approached the door. As he stood in front of the door, the floor just outside it creaked under some type of weight. Wanting the element of surprise, he reached for the door. Quickly pulling it open into the room, he grasped the rod with both hands again and swung it forcefully into the air in the hallway. It struck the floor. He lifted it, and swung it to the right of the door. Hitting nothing again, he pulled it back to the left. Again it hit nothing but air.
“Who’s out here?” Jack yelled.
The hallway was silent. He let one hand go of the rod, and turned on the hallway light. He looked right and left in the hallway, but did not see anyone. Confused, he lowered his gaze. He was stunned to see a muddy puddle of water below the doorway. Examining the floor closer, he could see other wet footprints leading to the stairs. What had left the footprints and where did it go? Clutching the wooden rod, he slowly made his way toward the stairs. The muddy footprints were on each step from the first floor. Based on the orientation of the prints, someone had only travelled up the steps, and not back down. Jack went down to the middle of the stairs. Scanning the foyer, there was no one visible. A low moan came from above him.
He turned around and looked upward. A wet brown patch of water was on the ceiling in front of his bedroom door. As he went back up the stairs, he could see a drop of water fall from the ceiling to the puddle on the floor. He approached the puddle, and extended the wooden rod to the wet stain on the ceiling. The pole touched the area, but it felt firm and solid. Another creak emanated from the bedroom ceiling.
He slowly entered the room, carefully looking around before each step. Unsure where the sound came from, he stopped near his bed and listened. The room was silent, except for the swamp creatures outside the window. His heart pounded as he continued to pay attention to the sights and sounds. Something light grazed his hair and shoulder. Startled, he quickly looked behind his back. Nothing was there. He was puzzled. He felt something contact the top of his head. Reaching up with a free hand, he felt the wetness in his hair with something grainy in it. As he lifted his head to examine the ceiling above him, he could see a dark spot developing. He nervously stepped back a few steps, and stared at the growing spot. It was no longer flat against the ceiling. Something was extending downward, but what was it? He shook as a dark wet figure slowly formed before him. Unable to move, his only option was to watch. The rough shape appeared to resemble a cloaked man that oozed mud from some hidden source. All he was able to do was to step backwards away from the mass. It started to get closer to him. His back contacted the wall. The doorway was at least six feet away and the figure was blocking his path. Trapped, he watched the approaching menace. Trying to think fast, he swung the rod horizontally toward the form. It sloshed through it, but did not contact anything solid. The form did not stop moving closer to him. Now face to face with a ghastly being from the swamp, Jack opened his mouth ready to speak.
Only able to whisper, he asked “who are you?”
No response.
“Do I know you?” Jack tried again.
There was a moment of silence. Then the form responded in a low calm garbled voice “no.”
Jack was very confused as he became engulfed in wet mud from contact with figure. A lump formed in his throat. As he spit it out, he realized it was mud. His throat filled up again, this time with much more volume. He was no longer able to breathe as the mass fully engulfed his head.
###
About the Author:
John’s third full length horror novel, “Alone Again,” is now available as of fall 2011.
John uses his past memories and his local knowledge combined with his engineering sense of detail to create realistic ghost stories. He has an interest in ghost stories and creepy old haunted houses.
The Wahl House Curse
Peter Corbin was in need of a change with his job as a realtor in a busy Michigan suburb. A chance to transfer to a small town in mid-Michigan seemed to be what he and his wife Sarah needed. They purchased an old house for a bargain price without much regard for the troubled past. This proved to be something he would soon regret. The restless ghosts quickly made their presence known. (about 59,000 words).
Alone Again
Emily Sutton had been an outgoing happy person when they had married. Her husband, David struggled to understand what changed once they moved into the old suburban house that a builder had fixed up after it had stood abandoned for a few years. Emily was only a shadow of her former self. She had become withdrawn and thought something in the house was trying to harm her. With her health suffering and delusions increasing, tragedy was inevitable. A coworker of David's befriended him to help him cope. Increasing strange occurrences in the house caused him to question whether the cause of Emily's death was as obvious as he thought.
Alone Again is about 43,000 words and contains some mature content.
Connect with me online (for more novels and short stories):
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4548666.John_Gaffield
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