The Haunted House

Small hills dotted the perimeter of the moors. In the middle of the expanse of land lay a deadly calm black lake and a road cut across the otherwise wild landscape. I drove on this road, making my way towards the eastern hills. It wound its way up a single hill and it was there that my destination was.

My car slowed to a stop, in front of the tall black iron gates. No sooner had I honked the horn, a lonely man’s figure came into view. The housekeeper opened the gate and I parked my car just inside of it.

I got out of the car and by the time the keeper shut the gate and got my bags, I had studied the grounds on which I was to stay while I was in Lahore. White mist rolled around on the unkempt yard. A broken fountain stood in the center of the grounds and about twenty five meters from it stood the manor, tall and proud, proud as a successful man might be by the end of his life. Even from a distance I could see the house was ages old, and that dampness had seeped into the walls.

Then I turned to look at the keeper, he was a short graying man, with only a few wisps of hair adorning his shiny head. His mouth was just a line cut into his wrinkled face. My boss had told me that he had a minor personality disorder, but he seemed pretty much ok to me. ‘I am Nadim’ he told me in Urdu. 

‘Do you live here alone?’ I asked him.

‘Yes,’ he said ‘it’s getting late sister we should go inside.’ 

Thus we proceeded towards the house. ‘You are the first one to come here since the murder.’ Nadim said as we walked. ‘What murder?’ I asked startled. So he told me the story of how a man had killed his wife in the house because he doubted her character. ‘They say her spirit haunts the place, though I have never seen anything.’ As he finished his story and closed the door to the house a shiver ran through me. ‘Do you want to see the house or sleep?’ Nadim asked, ‘I’d rather sleep’ I said glancing around the lighted hall. It was caked with dust and cobwebs.

When we were heading upstairs towards the bedrooms I asked Nadim ‘what became of the husband?’ ‘I found him dead the next morning, turns out he choked to death’ he replied. 

‘And you still think the house isn’t haunted?’ I asked, a little shaken. ‘A smart man needs evidence madam, here this is your room,’ he said bluntly.

Once Nadim had departed, I looked around the room taking in the details. The bed was made, the room was well lit and the curtains were drawn back to let in the silvery glow of the full moon. I lay down to sleep and soon dozed off.

When I woke up again it was three in the morning. The lights had flickered off leaving the room dimly lit by just one light and the shine of the moon. Bleary eyed I tried to switch on the lights again to no avail. Irritated and scared I stood in front of the window staring into the depths of the night. The moon played hide and seek with the blood red clouds and I recoiled as the silhouette of a bird flew across the sky. I stood studying my shifting reflection. That’s when I noticed a woman standing behind me.

She had red rimmed eyes, black flowing hair, a ghostly white wrinkled face and a bruised neck. Fear gripped me from head to toe. My eyes widened and I managed a desperate scream just before her sickly white hands closed around my neck…

Nadim crouched beside his mistress’ cold body; her neck was bruised, as if someone had choked her to death. The vague reflection in the window caught his attention. He fell back against the floor, shocked. Why he was dressed as an old ghostly woman he did not understand.