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

you? Don’t leave me.” Helen got down on her hands and knees, dragging herself into the hallway and down the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she managed to get the front door open and she broke free. She collapsed on the ground. She wanted to run as far away from the place as she could but she was too weak to move any farther.
    From around the corner of the house a tall man carrying an axe walked slowly toward her. Thank God, Helen thought. Another living human being. She assumed he was a woodsman by the plaid shirt and breeches he wore.
    Helen was too weak to get up. The stranger removed the axe from his shoulder and cradled it in his arms, like he was holding an infant. Helen shivered, not from the chill in the air, but from what he might do with the axe, but fear left her body when she looked up into his friendly face. He smiled down at her before he spoke.
    â€œI was wondering as I came around the house why you were sitting on the ground and then I remembered the chilling history of this house.” Helen explained her experience with the spirits inside. The stranger suggested they go inside where it was warm, jokingly telling her that even ghosts were afraid of a man carrying an axe.
    Helen was reluctant to re-enter the house, but something about the man’s demeanor made her feel safe, and she found her courage returning. Once they were seated inside, Helen asked the man to explain what he had meant when he had mentioned the “chilling history of the house.” She begged him to tell her the story. He provided her with the grisly details.
    â€œAn escaped patient from the insane asylum hid in the woods for weeks and when he thought it was safe to come out, he snuck inside this house while the family slept. He then crept upstairs and killed them all.”
    â€œWas he caught?”
    â€œOh, yes indeed and hanged as well. There are reports his ghost is also seen around the property.” Helen shivered and was thankful that so far she had just run into the ghost of the little girl that afternoon.
    They were still seated at the kitchen table when they heard a car drive up. Helen looked at the wall clock. It was near noon. She told the woodsman that her husband was home for lunch, but the stranger wasn’t listening.
    David hurried up the veranda steps and went inside. He saw his young wife slumped over the kitchen table. He thought she might be napping, but sensed something was wrong. From somewhere upstairs he heard a child’s voice whispering, “Mummy, mummy.” On the wall, he saw the shadow of what looked like someone holding an axe over his head.
    Music to Wake the Dead
    T he house in this story is long gone, destroyed by fire as, I’m told, most haunted houses are. For the setting, we must return to the 1940s, to a house located in east Guysborough County. The young man of the house—we’ll call him “Tim”—loved music. His favourite music at that time was the famous drummer Gene Krupa. Now, Tim preferred sleeping in the attic because there he could play the drums and listen to music without disturbing the family. But he didn’t consider others who might be disturbed.
    One night, Tim was playing a record on a portable phonograph, and following along on his drums. He was dreaming that one day he might be as good as Krupa when suddenly the arm of the phonograph was dragged across the record, seemingly of its own accord. Before young Tim knew what was happening, the record went sailing across the room and was smashed to pieces against the wall. Sometimes, as they say, music that’s played too loud might wake up the dead.
    The next day, Tim reported the previous night’s incident to his parents. Their immediate response was to blame his friends. “Who else was with you?” they queried. “No one!” he exclaimed. “It had to have been a ghost.” But the boy’s parents merely laughed at him and would