The Haunted

Sophie lay still in bed and listened; she could hear the clock on her wall tick-tick-tick but there was something else, she thought, something in her room, breathing slowly.

She sat up suddenly and stared into the darkness in front of her and thought she saw a small figure about the size of a little boy standing at the foot of her bed then she heard it breathing again.

"Billy?", she asked.

"Yes, mummy", she heard her 6 year old son say.

Sophie sighed with relief, clutching her chest.

"You gave me a real fright", she said, laughing at herself for being afraid, "What are you doing up out of bed? You've got to go to school in the morning and why are you standing at the foot of my bed?".

"I don't want to sleep in my room, mummy", she heard her son say, "I'm frightened. I think theres a ghost in my room. An old man. I hear him move about when I'm trying to sleep".

"Oh you don't still believe in ghosts do you?", she teased him, "A big boy like you".

"Don't you believe in Ghosts, Mummy?", he asked.

"No. I think that when people die their spirits go to heaven, like your Grandmama", she said, "And besides. When I bought this old house, the estate agent swore to me that there were absolutely no ghosts living here".

"But there is a ghost in this house", said her son, almost adamantly, "An old man. An evil old man".

"Alright then", she said, pulling the covers of her bed back and smiling, "Well, if you're frightened, get into bed with mummy and cuddle up... and get some sleep for heaven's sake".

She heard her son crawl into bed next to her and then felt him put his arms around her waist.

She thought his skin felt ice cold like there was no heat in him at all.

She put her hand on his forehead and felt his cheek, they were both like ice.

"You feel so cold", she said, anxiously, "I hope you haven't got the flu. Come here. Let me warm you up".

She wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling him close, rubbing his arms and back trying to warm them.

But then she thought she heard her son come out of his room at the end of the hall and open and close the door to the bathroom.

"No", she thought, shaking her head, "That can't be right. Billy is here in bed with me. I must have just imagined it".

But then she heard the sound of the toilet flush and her son washing his hands.

"Whats wrong mummy?", said the voice of the person lying next to her, "Why did you stop?".

Sophie started to panic, remembering what her son had said earlier about a ghost and now, looking at the face beside her, worried that perhaps it wasn't really him, that perhaps it was something else in the dark; something cold and dead, just speaking with his voice.

She struggled to get away from it, whatever; get out of bed as fast as she could, get towards the light switch and turn it on. She had to be dreaming, this had to be a dream.

Practically throwing herself against the wall of her room, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, she flicked the switch turning on the bedroom light and looked, open mouthed at an empty bed.

"Whats wrong mummy?", she heard a voice say from the direction of the bed, from out of the air.

Was she going mad?, she wondered, she must be going mad.

She looked across the kitchen table at her mother; her mother who had died of cancer 9 years ago. It seemed like day because there was light streaming through the kitchen window but there was something odd and dreamlike about the light and the birds outside sounded like they could be children laughing.

"What is happening to me, Mother?", she asked.

Her mother smiled calmly as if everything was normal.

"There is an old man in the house that died a long time ago, Sophie. He's been waiting a long time in the shadows. Watching families come and go. Biding his time. Waiting for someone like you to come along", she said.

"What does he want?", asked Sophie.

"He wants you to have his child, dear", said her mother, "His ghost child".

"His ghost child?", repeated Sophie, shaking her head, "That's crazy? I won't do it".

"I think you should give him what he wants", said her mother, "Don't fight him Sophie. He's stronger than you and if you fight him he's going to win".

"Well, atleast he should leave my son alone", she pleaded, "He's just a child".

"Billy is a threat to the ghost child", said her Mother, "But the old man can make you forget that your other son ever existed".

Sophie shook her head.

"Never", she said, "I'll never forget my son".

Sophie couldn't believe that her mother was saying these horrible things. But it wasn't her mother. It couldn't be. Her mother would never have supported anything so evil. This was just the monster wearing another mask, trying to trick her.

She grabbed hold of her mothers face and it peeled away like a rubber halloween mask, revealing part of another face underneath; no, it wasn't a face, it was a skull.

"God.. god, please, help me", she said looking at her bed and seeing the white bedcover seem to move, throwing itself back as if it wanted her to get into bed.

She heard Billy at the end of the hall. It sounded as if he was sobbing.

She turned and looked at him and saw an old man standing behind him; a tall, pale thin old man in a black suit smiling at her.

From downstairs, she could hear something playing her Piano, hitting the key of E minor over and over again.

"Billy come here", she said, gesturing to her son, "Come away from that...that man".

"Why don't you love me, mother?", he asked.

"I do love you", she said, her vision of him growing blurry with tears, "Now come here, please".

"But you don't want me", he said.

The man put the shadow of his arms around her son; arms as long as snakes and pulled him into his bedroom, her son seeming to go with him willingly.

She screamed out her sons name but her bedroom door slammed shut and then she heard it lock.

She struggled to try and open it, screaming for her son, begging for the man to leave him alone but the door wouldn't open...it just wouldn't open and then the handle of the door became a shadow, her grasping fingers slipping through it.

And there was something; something black dripping down the bedroom wall opposite, she thought; no, it was a letter being painted in broad strokes, a T and it was part of a word; part of some horrible sentence that was forming on the wall.

"This is a charnel house", it said.

Then she saw them all come out of the walls, all the ghosts that had died in that house, from every corner of the room, coming towards her, pale faces and dark shadows where their eyes should have been, their hands stretched out to grab her and their broad smiles opening wide to scream.

She backed towards the wall but it was the mattress of her bed and she was lying flat upon it; she looked round, hearing something rustle and saw the white night gown she had been wearing moving and fluttering about like a ghost shroud while, over her; ontop of her; inside of her; a dark shadow was forming.

"No, no, no", she heard herself say, "This isn't right. You can't do this".

Then she thought she heard someone digging like they were digging up earth to bury her with and she felt as if she were lying seven feet deep with a cold corpse clutching her and the earth was being rained down upon her.

"Don't fight, Sophie", she heard a voice whisper in her ear, "Death comes to us all".

Sophie opened her eyes and screamed but then she saw that it was morning; that light was streaming in through the bedroom curtains.

But it wasn't like before in the kitchen with her mother. This sunlight looked real and the birds twittering outside sounded like normal birds, like it had just been a dream.

She sat up in bed and put her hand on her forehead, sweeping away her hair and looking around at her bedroom in the light of day; still feeling a shiver of shock running through her from the dream; still not sure what was real.

"Oh god...what a horrible dream", she said to herself, her fear starting to fade, "What a really evil, horrible nightmare".

And the strangest part of it, she thought, remembering the details of the dream, was that she didn't even have a son called Billy.

But then she thought she felt something moving...moving inside her.