The Stories That Haunt Us by Bill Jessome Read Free Book Online Page A

privacy. The real estate agent unlocked the front door and showed them inside.
    They checked all the rooms. Helen peeked into every nook and cranny. There were no hidden passageways, no dark hallways leading to open trapdoors, no closet walls that fell away, and no unexplained shadows passing on the stairway. It was a simple, plain old house that needed some attention. David noticed only the old house smell, but he was more preoccupied with the financing. He saw the place as a good investment, and decided they would move in immediately.
    A few uneventful days passed after the move; then, just after dinner one night, as Helen stepped out into the hall, a sudden rush of cold air pushed hard against her face, and she had the feeling of being unwelcome. Her misgivings about their new home grew. It wasn’t so bad when David was home but when he left for work or had to go out of town on business, Helen felt uncomfortable being alone in the house. She felt like she was being watched by someone who was right behind her all the time. Several times she thought she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, there was nothing there.
    One day not too long after they had moved in, Helen was alone, making the bed upstairs, when she heard footfalls climbing on the steps. She stopped and listened, her heart beating loudly. She came out of the bedroom cautiously but there was no one on the stairs. She could see nothing, it was true, but she could still hear the sound of fading footsteps! Helen suddenly became weak. She would have fallen head long down the stairs if she hadn’t grabbed the railing for support. She sat down quickly, wrapping her arms around her knees, and rocked back and forth, afraid of what might be in the house with her.
    When her husband arrived home from work that evening, she told him what had happened. She was convinced the place was haunted. David laughed, telling her that it was probably just the excitement of a new place, and the power of suggestion.
    That night in bed, unable to sleep, Helen ran through the day’s events in her mind; she wasn’t so sure it was just her imagination or the excitement of a new place. She was certain that what she’d heard that morning was real.
    Rolling over on her left side to face the wall, she suddenly found herself looking straight into the eyes of a child. It was standing so close to the bed that Helen could feel its cold breath on her face. The child touched Helen’s cheek with the tip of her finger, whispering, ”Mummy, is that you?” Helen stiffened. The little girl stepped back—right through the wall until she was gone. Helen muffled a pitiful cry with her fist pressed to her lips. She didn’t want to awaken her husband—he would only say she’d dreamt it.
    Many questions swirled through Helen’s mind as she fixed her eyes on the wall where the child had disappeared. This explained the footsteps this afternoon, she thought to herself. She could not stay here! How was she going to convince her husband that the house was haunted and they would have to leave?
    First, she decided, she would have to find out who the child was and why she was haunting the place. Something terrible must have happened. That was it: when David left for work in the morning, she would find out all she could about the family that had lived in the house and the murder that had taken place.
    The next morning, Helen was in her bedroom getting ready to go into town to the local newspaper office when the room suddenly went ice cold. An inner voice told her to run but it was too late. The mirror she was looking into smashed to smithereens. As she turned to flee, an unseen force attacked her and held her down. Her face felt like it was covered in cobwebs, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t pull them off. She heard footsteps on the stairs and the whining voice of the child calling out, ”Mummy, Mummy where are