047 - Goosebumps

(Please note, the names of the people in this blog have been changed, because I'm paranoid, and this story involves kids.)

Not the excited kind of goosebumps. The creepy kind.

I was walking to my cousin's hair salon earlier today with my mother when she told me how a family friend was moving into 'Karen Fletcher's old house' and I told her how that house always made me uneasy. About half an hour later my cousin was talking about spooky goings-on with a client when we overheard her say "That's like Karen Fletcher's house. I hated being in there." Mam looked at me wide-eyed and I have to admit, my skin crawled. Later, we asked my cousin what she meant, and... well, let me start from the beginning...

When I was a teenager I babysat for two boys, we'll call them Charlie and Brian Fletcher. Since I looked after them they've moved home several times, so this story is about the house they lived in years ago. Until the conversation with my cousin today I didn't know she, too, looked after them, when they were younger (she's older than I am, so when she became too old to babysit, I started).

Every time I was in that house, I felt uneasy. From the very beginning I had no reason to feel that way, but the longer I babysat them, the more often strange things happened. I always put it down to some sort of psychological influence, because the boys would tell me about this monster they'd seen; a figure with disfigured head and huge horns that lived in the attic. I think I called it Maggie to see if naming their imaginary 'friend' would make them (and me) less scared. We hated the attic. In all the years I visited that house I'd only ever been in the attic once, despite it having a solid staircase leading up to it. It wasn't dangerous to get into.

Apart from the cold atmosphere, there were noises. We'd hear creaking, knocking, tapping, whispers, hissing... all things I told myself were just the heating turning off or on, or floorboards settling, or just the wind. A few times I'd thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, like when I saw a pair of eyes looking through the living room window at me, shadows out the corner of my eyes, things moving outside... I had a ritual, once the boys went to bed, to close every door and pull the window blinds down completely, and have all the lights on in the room that I was in. It never really helped, but I felt better that whatever was in the house or outside the window couldn't see me and I couldn't see it, if it had nowhere to hide.

I know I was glad when they moved and I didn't have to be in that house any more, but I never really made a fuss about anything that happened there. I never really told anyone. Like I said already, I was sure it was just my overactive imagination.

My cousin's stories were quite different. She reported, long before the younger boy was born, strange things happening. The TV would turn on and off by itself, for example. The story that really had me shivering in my seat today was of when Brian, the youngest, was about two months old, and Charlie was three years. My cousin had a few friends over after the boys were asleep, and they were talking away and watching TV when they heard three* very loud bangs from upstairs. And Brian started to cry.

My cousin and her friends went to check on the baby. What they saw freaked them out so much that her friends ran screaming from the house.

When she had put the baby to sleep in his cot, she tucked his blanket in cosy around him, lying down, head at the top of the cot, as most people would do. When she found him he was completely turned round, head where his feet had been, and he was tucked in perfectly. Like someone had just turned him around, blanket and all.

I know you probably don't believe in ghosts or poltergeists, but you have to admit, it's terribly strange...

I'm not going to sleep right tonight.

*For those who have never heard of the superstition before, it is said that if you hear three loud bangs, someone you know is going to die. A little bit like hearing a banshee.