There are more things in heaven and earth
“There is no god, no heaven only the here and now”, Michael said heaving a world weary sigh. Luke was a close friend but he had this annoying habit of challenging Michael’s atheism. Luke smiled that smug little smile of his “There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio than are dreamed of in your philosophy” he said. “OK Luke your mate Charlie is the caretaker at that National Trust property just down the road from here isn’t he?” “I’d hardly call Charlie a friend more of a drinking buddy. If he’s in the pub we’ll have a laugh but I wouldn’t call him a mate no. Anyway why are you suddenly interested in historic houses? I thought that your interests started and finished at who is playing whom in the football fixtures!” Michael ignored Luke’s barbed comment. He did enjoy football but there was more to his life than being glued to the television, girls for example! “Brockenhurst Hall is supposed to be haunted isn’t it?” Michael asked. “Yeah but you believe that the afterlife is so much claptrap so why the sudden interest?” Luke said. “Do you think that you could persuade Charlie to let me spend the night there, in the room where that chamber maid hanged herself?” Michael asked. “I think that Charlie would do anything for £50!” Luke replied. “OK mate heres the money” Michael said extracting 2 twenty pound notes and a ten pound note from his wallet. Luke became very pale, “This isn’t some kind of game Michael, I truly believe in the words of Shakespeare that “there are more””, Michael’s snort of laughter drowned out the remainder of Luke’s sentence.
—
Several days later saw Michael ensconced in a sleeping bag in the servant’s quarters at Brockenhurst Hall. “I’ll have to lock you in” Charlie had said. “Heres my number. Rather you than me mate”, he said handing over a piece of paper with his mobile number scrawled on it.
Soon after Charlie left Michael dozed off. He was awoken by the sound of the wind whistling in the chimney. “If I was supersticious I’d think that some lost soul is lamenting their eternal damnation in hell but it’s only the wind” Michael reassured himself.
The stone floor was cold and uncomfortable despite the quilted sleeping bag. Michael rose and stretched. Glancing in the direction of the high windows he saw the great oaks standing majestic by the light of the full moon. Strange not a leaf russled despite the wind which moaned throughout the ancient building. “Must be some freak weather condition” Michael muttered but what, exactly could be causing such unusual weather patterns was beyond him.
Michael returned to his sleeping bag and attempted to fall asleep. The old house unsettled him. Michael was used to his modern flat built in the late 1980s. With it’s double glazing and cavity wall insulation his apartment was cacooned from the elements. Not so this place. The wind increased in intensity rattling the windows and the oak floor boards creaked as though feet walked on them. “Charlie is that you?” No answer came. “Old houses make strange noises. Get a grip Michael, you’re not a fanciful sort of bloke, stop this stupidity now” he told himself. Creak, creak, what was that? The moon had disappeared leaving Michael in pitch blackness. He reached for his torch. The torch flickered and then went dead. “Shit I forgot to change the batteries” Michael remembered. Creak, creak. Michael got out of the bag and fumbled around in search of the light switch. His hand touched something warm and soft. Michael screamed. At least he tried to scream but the scream was a mere whimper in his constricted throat. Thank Christ he found the switch and the room was flooded with light.
The chamber door stood half open. “must be the wind” Michael thought. But, looking in the direction of the window he saw the ancient oaks standing untroubled by any breeze. “I don’t like this” Michael muttered. He approached the door intending to close it. He pushed but the door refused to move. “Blooddy thing” Michael said pushing harder. Still no movement. Some sixth sense made Michael glance upwards. His blood froze and the scream which emanated from his throat was as though some maniac where cutting his throat. Hanging above the door on a large hook suspended from the ceiling dangled the body of a young woman. She was dressed as a Victorian chamber maid and, as he watched the life force went out of the girl her face turning as white as the chamber walls.
—
“I’m so very, very sorry Margaret” Luke said hugging Michael’s mother, “Did the doctor say what had caused Michael’s” he couldn’t finish the sentence, the lump in his throat blocking any further words. “He said that it was a massive heart attack. I don’t understand it Luke. There is no history of heart trouble in our family, non at all and his face”. Margaret broke down at the recollection of her son’s contorted face. He looked as though something unspeakable had filled his vision at the last.
The end
