THE APPOINTMENT: A chilling ghost story of malevolence and death Page 4

  A heavy, sweet and unfamiliar aroma pervaded the atmosphere. She soon discovered it was being caused by a pipe smouldering in an ash tray, which was on another small table by the side of an armchair. It was as if someone had just left the room with intent to return. Could it be Mr Midgely? Although somehow the scene didn’t feel as if it belonged to the present, and it just didn’t feel real. She felt an overwhelming sense of being an uninvited guest intruding into someone else’s life, yet destined to stay, although it wasn’t normally in her psyche to think like that.

  She continued to look around, digesting other interesting paraphernalia in the room, such as a newspaper lying casually unopened on a chair with a pair of old fashioned spectacles on top. It was all too surreal. Walking over to the paper to check its date, she was sidetracked as her attention was grabbed by the headline which read: Ghastly murder at Hill House. But it was instantly forgotten as her interest was caught by a framed photograph on the wall, which portrayed a group of household staff standing to attention outside the front entrance of The Grange. The house looked proud and majestic and was not covered in ivy, nor was it surrounded by the many trees which had kept it obscured from view over the years. It also didn’t have the castellated towers. Her knowledge of history, as well as the style of dress, along with the coach and horses, told her it was early to mid-nineteenth-century. Her thoughts were confirmed when she suddenly spotted a date at the bottom of the frame which read 1863. And it was clear that the house had undergone some changes since the photograph was taken.

  In the scene, a man was greeting a group of people alighting from a horse-drawn carriage his back was all that was visible. A young girl with fair hair and dressed in white, was standing by the open carriage door. She had a pretty face and striking eyes - and she looked vaguely familiar. But when Kelly looked at the man again, his face was now clearly visible. She was confused, as she could have sworn that when she’d first looked at it his back was all that could be seen. And when she looked even more closely, shock waves rippled through her body. It was the face of the man who had opened the door for her. She recoiled in horror.

  Her common sense told her it couldn’t possibly be him, the scene was too old. Maybe it was a relative from an earlier generation. Yes, of course, that was the obvious answer. She moved closer to get a better look. The man in the picture looked much younger, but he was spruced up and smart. He was burlier. But his suit was identical to the one worn by the man at the door – albeit not faded. Maybe it had been handed down through the generations. The man in the picture was ugly and had sharp chiselled features - but it was the eyes which held her spellbound. He had eyes which were penetrating, piercing, and unnatural. They were almost luminous and she couldn’t tear herself away, whereas the man at the door had eyes so deeply set that they were hardly visible. But he had the same greased-back black hair, which emphasised his harsh looks.

  The grandfather clock chimed six times hollowly from the far side of the room, which penetrated her thoughts. She looked across in surprise, whilst checking her watch. It was eleven o’clock.

  Why would such a beautiful and valuable old timepiece be running at the wrong hour, when everything else seemed to be so intact? She felt like someone trapped in a time warp - everything belonged to the past but the clock had a mind of its own. Nothing made sense – not even her own thoughts. Maybe she should have eaten a bigger breakfast, rather than the small bowl of Muesli this morning – it might have kept her mind more focused. But her eagerness to get to work had overcome the importance of diet.

  The pipe had gone out, the steam from the teapot was becoming invisible, and there was neither sight nor sound of anyone. Kelly was becoming more and more fidgety, and agitated by the minute, at the lack of courteousness being shown to her by Midgley. She was unaccustomed to this kind of treatment by a client - after all, he had done the inviting.

  She decided to explore other parts of the house, opening as many window shutters as possible and showering the atmosphere with years of undisturbed dust and grime. She photographed what little she could, whilst still hoping to come across Midgley in the process. But he continued to remain elusive.

  There was nothing of particular merit throughout the property, as everything had suffered the same degree of dilapidation. That is, until she found herself standing in the library.

  Book-filled shelves, laden with many old and rare titles, lined the library walls, whilst elaborately sculpted panelling decorated others. A curved staircase, with intricately carved balustrading, led to a galleried landing which encircled the room, above which was a magnificent ceiling with ornate plasterwork decorated with Gold Leaf.

  As with some of the other rooms which she had seen, the focal point was a splendid fireplace taking centre stage, complimented by several high backed chairs and reading tables. Heavily upholstered chairs and comfy sofas gave the room a casual and relaxed atmosphere – the perfect accompaniment to a good book.

  Tall library steps, dotted around the room, stood in waiting. None of the shutters were closed, and ample daylight flooded in. So why was she overcome by a strong sense of moroseness?

  She began to prepare her camera, convinced that she would capture enough of the room to make her visit to The Grange worthwhile after all. She walked around in an attempt to find the best possible position, which would portray it in its entirety. But her concentration was affected by the strange and unexplained feelings which were clouding her senses - anxiety, dread, fear. She could not focus. An overwhelming sense of melancholy had gripped her and wouldn’t let go. Kelly felt increasingly frustrated, as she circled the room once more, determined to shake off the intrusion. But each time she was left feeling baffled and bewildered.

  She browsed amongst the books in a final attempt to take her mind off the bad feelings. But the questions continued to nag at her, as to why some of the rooms were in such good condition, whilst the others were suffering such decay. Shrugging off the unanswered questions in her mind, she made another determined effort to take some photographs, and positioned herself at the side of the fireplace so she could capture the galleried landing.

  In order to fill the frame with as much detail as possible, she had to lean back against the wall. As she steadied and focused the camera, she felt a slight movement behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder, and to her surprise she saw that a piece of panelling had partially opened.

  She wasn’t going to let that piece of tantalising curiosity escape her, so she placed her camera safely back in the bag and withdrew her torch. She gingerly pushed back the panelling, only to be greeted by darkness and the stale smell of decay.

  She shone her torch inside the opening to reveal a long stone passageway. Its grey bare walls depicted the same miserable façade as the building’s austere exterior. It was clear to her that this would have been a priest’s hole - used by priests as hiding places, or as an alternative escape route from the house to evade capture. They were often found in properties of this age, particularly large ones like this. She had come across them before.

  Kelly shone the torch straight ahead and saw a heavily bolted steel door at the far end of the passageway. Her excitement quelled any feelings of reservation, so leaving her bag behind she wandered into the passage to investigate.

  Once again she felt the strange sensation that she had entered another forbidden place and shouldn’t be there. She shrugged it off. The room was an important piece of history and should be included in the sales brochure, although she doubted very much if she could photograph it. There was no window, but there was a small grille set deep into the wall on her left, from which a hint of light could be seen. It was too high for her to reach.

  She shone her torch around the passageway to see if there was something to stand on, and the beam fell upon an old rusty metal trunk. Although it was empty it was too heavy to lift, so she shoved it inch by inch towards the grille. The harsh grating sound of metal on stone echoed down the chamber, and the light from her
torch wandered aimlessly out of control as she pushed the trunk into position.

  Kelly removed her shoes and stepped up onto its curved lid.

  She gripped the small ledge with one hand, whilst holding the torch with the other, and craned her head towards the open grille, balancing precariously on her toes.

  Aiming the torch into the space beyond, she peered inside.

  Her eyes fell upon a small furnished bed chamber, and she could just make out a four poster bed heavily draped in crimson velvet. But the room overall was dark, and little could be seen through the tiny opening – she stretched a little more, craning her neck as far as it would go.

  She tried to move the beam around the room - and then to her shock and horror, she found herself looking into the face of the strange man who had let her into the house. There was something different about him, something even more sinister. His eyes were now luminous, and glowing in the dark, as they transfixed hers. She felt a strange pull towards them, and she had difficulty wrenching away. But as bad as this was, she was not prepared for what she saw next.

  The seconds which followed passed in slow motion, as she witnessed the most unimaginable and gruesome scene that she could ever have imagined. Slumped on the floor behind him was the hunched body of the girl from the forest, her motionless head bowed to her chest, and her white dress was deeply bloodstained.

  He was holding a bloodied meat cleaver.

  The shock caused Kelly to lose her balance and she crashed to the floor, her torch spiralling out of her hand. Her heart was pounding at her chest and her legs felt numb - she could hardly breathe. This was followed by an uncontrollable fit of convulsions, which rendered her helpless.

  She knew she had to get out of there - and fast. But she was in total darkness and the fear had taken over. It took every ounce of self-control she could find, to pull herself together.

  The clatter of the torch had echoed until it stopped some distance from her. She crawled in that direction, groping around in the dark until her fingers finally sought it out. She closed her hand around it and dragged herself up off the floor.

  She knew she may only have seconds before he came looking for her, and clearly her life was in danger. She wasn’t certain if she could make it back through the library in time - and there was only one other alternative. She looked fearfully down the passageway.

  Still shaking with shock, she shone her torch towards the metal door. It did not look enticing. She had no idea what was behind it, or which would prove to be the lesser of two evils. She took the gamble, grabbed her shoes, and ran towards it.

  It was heavily bolted.

  Somehow, in her desperation, she managed to sum up the strength to slide the large steel bolts open. But as her hand gripped the handle, she knew it would be impossible to turn.

  She let her shoes drop to the floor, and placed the torch carefully beside them so that the light was aiming upward.

  Applying mind over matter, and with great resolve, she closed both hands around the cold metal - and turned and pulled until she felt all the energy draining from her body. The terror was still etched in her face as the heavy, solid steel door, slowly, but gradually, creaked and groaned open.

  The dank, foul smell which emitted from the opening, almost overcame her as it oozed into the atmosphere. She could see nothing but deep, hollow blackness.

  She listened intently. She could hear the sound of water in the distance. She knew that this was probably the entry to the underground sewers, which must have once served the estate.

  Looking behind her there was still no sign of him. She didn’t know whether to head back to the library - or to risk the black void which lay ahead. Either option filled her with blinding panic.

  She picked up the torch and shone it into the emptiness, hoping her eyes would become accustomed to the dark and allow her to take stock of the risk. She knew she must be running out of time. Then she screamed a loud piercing scream, which cut through the silence. The torch dropped from her hand, and the sound echoed hauntingly into the distance of the chasm. And for a moment a feeling of doom descended upon her, as the stark white face and staring eyes of the strange man loomed out of the darkness – almost paralysing her to the spot. Using strength which she didn’t know she had, she heaved her body against the door and with all her might closed it shut. She slammed the bolts back in place, and in total darkness ran barefooted back down the passageway and into the library. She grabbed the canvas bag and escaped through a door at the far end of the room. Struck by unbelievable terror, she was now in certain fear for her life.

  Kelly calculated that she must be heading towards the rear of the house, and hoped to god that there would be a way out of this dreadful place.

  She ran down one corridor after another, blindly fleeing in any direction not knowing where she was going. It was like being trapped in a maze. The fear was now in control and had numbed all her senses. She passed a back staircase as she fled through a myriad of darkened passages, until she finally arrived at another door. Her body slammed against it as she slowed to an abrupt halt. She turned the handle but it wouldn’t open. Thankfully there was a key inside the lock.

  Her heart was in her mouth as she fumbled with the rusty old key. Stiff with age and lack of use, it wasn’t for budging, and her knuckles whitened as she forced it to turn in the lock whilst feverishly looking over her shoulder for fear of him appearing behind her. The door opened and she escaped out into the rear courtyard. She was overcome by relief, as she instantly recognised Charlene’s car drawing up.

  Kelly screamed a warning to her, before collapsing unconscious to the ground.

  4

  KELLY could hear her name being called somewhere in the distance, but couldn’t respond. She tried to speak, but felt drugged and unable to move any part of her body.

  The voice was getting closer and closer, and it had a familiar ring to it.

  Her eyelids began to flicker as her body regained some control. She opened them and saw Charlene’s worried face, as she knelt over her calling her name gently.

  “Oh, thank god!” blurted out Charlene.

  “Where - where am I?” Kelly asked weakly.

  “You fainted - you came running out of the house as if you’d seen a ghost.”

  As the memory flooded back, Kelly’s body began to tremble. She tried desperately to get up. Charlene attempted to steady her and helped her to her feet.

  “We have to get away from this place,” cried Kelly. “He’s in there now!” Her voice sounded hollow, as if coming from a distance, and she felt like she was in a trance.

  “Who’s in there?”

  “A man - a killer, he’s just killed a young girl. I saw it. He’s looking for me.” Kelly tugged desperately at Charlene’s arm. “We have to get out of here and call the police.”

  Charlene presumed that Kelly’s ramblings were due to having fainted.

  “You’re suffering from shock, my love. Once we get into my car you’ll calm down.” She tried to coax her towards the car, but Kelly pulled back.

  “Calm down?” her tone suddenly aggressive. “Don’t you understand - he’s in there and he’s looking for me. I’m a witness. He saw me. We’re both in danger.”

  Still convinced that Kelly was suffering from the after-effects of fainting, Charlene tried to reassure her. “Well, once we’re in my car, we’ll decide what to do.”

  This time Kelly followed her sluggishly, whilst hanging onto her arm.

  Charlene stopped abruptly as she notice Kelly’s bare feet. “Where are your shoes?” she asked.

  “I left them in there.” Kelly motioned back to the house and shuddered as she slowly recalled the horror.

  “Well, we’ll worry about them later.” Charlene was more intent on getting her into the warmth of her car, than looking for her shoes.

  She helped Kelly into the car before climbing in herself. She started the engine and put the heat on full blast, and then proceeded to tell her
why she was here.

  “Mr Midgley wasn’t able to make it to the appointment at the arranged time. Something had unexpectedly cropped up. But we couldn’t get hold of you because there didn’t seem to be any mobile reception here.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Kelly snapped. “Why else would I not have telephoned for help?” She was unable to understand why Charlene was using delaying tactics, rather than get the hell out of there. And she was becoming increasingly agitated.

  The outburst was so completely out of character that Charlene could only presume she was still shaken, but it never occurred to her for a moment that Kelly had actually seen anything.

  “Well Mr Midgely should be on his way now. Evelyn asked me to come here because she hadn’t heard from you, and she simply had no other way of making contact. She didn’t want you heading back to the office whilst he was on his way up here. So we need to wait for him.”

  The distraught Kelly wasn’t interested in waiting around for anyone. She couldn’t take her eyes off the open door of The Grange, expecting at any time that the killer would emerge from it. She made one last attempt to drum some sense into Charlene.