Help from the past continued

Published by LilMissPrincess in the blog LilMissPrincess's blog. Views: 98

Sorry this is the rest from my last post....

One night, at about eleven p.m., I notice a creaky floorboard in my room. I tug at the board, becoming frustrated when it refuses to move. For almost an hour, I heave and haul at it, trying to prise it lose, and just as I’m about to give in, it comes suddenly upwards, revealing a small dark space.
I realise that the floorboards aren’t laid directly on the floor, but are slightly higher up, creating a crawl space. I look around for a torch, but finding none, I thrust my hand deep into the hole, timidly looking for something, even though I’m not sure what I hope to find. I search around, ignoring the cobwebs that I can feel.
I touch something different from the cobwebs and jerk my hand out. Slowly, I reach back inside, and pull out a yellowed piece of paper.

Dear diary,
Simon has been frightening me lately... He keeps coming home drunk, and he’s been getting so angry with me very easily. To be honest, I’m scared, but what can I do? I’m afraid of him, because I’m not sure what he’s capable of. Last night he got angry and he –

I read the note (which I recognise as a diary entry) three times, trying to make sense of it. What did Simon do? The rest of the diary entry had been ripped off so it’s impossible for me to know. I reach back into the hole under the floorboards one more time, trying to find the rest of the paper, but come up empty handed.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, I wait for Simon to come home, but hear no cars pulling up outside, and no other evidence of him returning. I wait awake for hours, scared of what he might do if he does come home. Just as I start to drift asleep, I hear a floorboard creak, a single creak. I jerk wide awake and lay still in my bed.
However, there are no further sounds. I listen intently for about ten minutes but hear nothing.
After the strange floorboard creaked, I had felt frightened about staying in the cottage. But nothing compared to this night.
Simon had gone out to town and had told me not to expect him home until the morning. So, why had I heard footsteps in the cottage – again?
After hours of trying to sleep, I finally drift off, and my dreams are filled with weird visions.
Simon is walking towards me, a crooked smile on his face. I gaze up at him, noticing how different he looks. I try to put a name to his expression and features, but cannot find the word I’m looking for.
Another person, a boy, walks into my view, someone younger, about my age. But he’s pale, extremely pale. He motions to me, moving his fingers in strange ways and tries to talk, although no sound comes out. I walk towards him, and see over his shoulder that Simon still pacing in my direction. When I reach the boy, he holds his hands out at me, as if to stop me walking any further, but his hands just go straight through me, like he is a ghost.
That’s when I realise. He is a ghost. And the look on Simon’s face, it’s evil.
When I wake, I lay panting and sweating in my bed, surprised to find the light shining brightly through my window. My phone beeps loudly by my side, and I reach out to answer a call from my mother. During the phone call she’s as cold and distant as always, and the call follows the same routine it does every morning when she rings. She asks how I am, how Simon is, tells me she and Chris are fine, and says bye and hangs up. But this morning, there is a slight change in the routine, she reminds me to be careful with Simon, considering his last child, Sam, went missing.
I sit, thinking deeply for a few moments, and can now put a name to the boy in my dream...
His name is Sam, he’s Simon’s son, and he’s dead.
I try to reach my mum’s mobile – answer phone. I try to reach Chris’ mobile – answer phone. I try to reach the hotel phone – answer phone.
I pace around my room, petrified. Simon still hasn’t come home and I’m worried about what will happen when he does. What if he knows? Will he be able to notice that I know what he did?
I don’t want to admit it, but I make myself say it out loud, so that I can convince myself that I’m not still dreaming.
“He killed his Sam... He killed Sam... He killed Sam...” I repeat to myself. “He killed his own son.”
Tyres scream outside, and I know Simon’s home. In my panic, I forget that I need to keep up my appearances so he doesn’t realise I know, and I have an urge to jump in the wardrobe to hide. I run across the room, and throw open the wardrobe doors. Just as I’m climbing in, I get the feeling someone is watching me.
I turn around very slowly, expecting Simon to have snuck up on me. But no one’s there. Once again, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and the air seems colder than it was just thirty seconds ago.
The bedroom door, which had been shut, breezes open. I start walking towards it, feeling as if I’m not in control of my own feet. For some reason, I walk in the opposite direction to the front door, where I can hear Simon fumbling with his key in the lock.
Then, the door that I had never opened, never even dreamed of peeping inside, flies open, quickly but quietly. I walk inside and flicked on the light switch. All around me are bottle upon bottles of alcohol.
No wonder he gets so drunk! I think to myself. I walk to the far wall of the room, and find a hole in the floor, as if the floorboard has been torn up. I drop down inside, not feeling scared but oddly at peace. I find myself in a bigger crawl space than under the floorboards in my room. The space is almost big enough for me to stand up straight in.
I walk for about thirty seconds and see wooden stairs leading up. I climb up, and bang my head. I reach up and push the thing above my head. It’s heavy and comes up slowly, but then I see light. I peep out a small gap it’s created and can see the open front door. I’m a few metres away from the house, under the ground.
I have the sudden feeling to run, so I step out the underground tunnel and run. But, I run towards the house, towards the car.
I have never driven before, and it takes me a few moments to figure out how to even move. Although, I manage to finally get going, and almost laugh when I realise I have escaped. The joy lasts for about ten minutes, until I grasp that I have no idea where I’m going.
I panic and ring my mum again.... no answer. I ring Chris... The ringing tone beeps and on the fourth beep he picks up!
“Chris!” I shout, delighted.
“Yes? What’s wrong?” He asks sleepily.
“Have you been sleeping?” I ask, frustrated. He starts to answer but I cut him off. “No, no it doesn’t matter. I have left Simon’s! I have no idea where I am. I need someone to come and pick me up, now!”
“Alexandra! Go back, now. Right this minute!” He shouts at me.
“No, send someone to pick me up.” I order. Finally he gives in and promises to send a chauffeur to pick me up, but says it may take a few hours.
When I hang up, I lay back to relax, nevertheless, I sit up straight again and whisper into the summer air.
“Thank you.” Suddenly the radio turns on. The lyrics reach my ears and I smile.
Your welcome! It sings at me.
From that moment on, I know my suspicions were right and the spirit of Sam had helped me escape.
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