I walked briskly, so as not to give anyone watching the impression that I was scared, towards the vast front doors leading to Eel Marsh house. The looming, sinister building towered over me, like a shadow, and sent unwanted chills up the sleeves of my jacket. Whispers emerged from the large oak trees dotting the garden untidily, and swished in a peculiar way. Peculiar being that there was no wind that day. There was a slight blow perhaps, but the trees shook as if there was a storm in process.
Eventually, I reached the porch, dusty, creaky and decorated in long, undisturbed cobwebs, a few with a 8 legged creature lying upon it.
I walked up the narrow staircase leading to the porch, and approached the door. It occurred to me that I hadn't actually any means of entering. I had never asked for the key, mostly because no one around the village knew I was here. Also, I doubt anyone would have given it to me in the first place, knowing what I had intended to do.
Should I ring?
Now really, I was just being foolish. No one would answer for goodness sake, seen as nobody actually lived here! No, I would look very peculiar ringing a deserted house.
Should I try the door and see if it was open?
It seemed like the only thing I could do, unless I had the intention of climbing through a window or something along those bizarre and admittedly desperate lines.
I placed one of my small hands on the rusty door knob, twice as big as any other door knob I had observed before. I bit my lip and hesitated before...
Creeeeeak!
I gave the handle an almighty push, earning me the sound of a heavy, oak door opening slowly, but satisfyingly.
I grinned wildly in triumph, before remembering myself and plastering my face once again with my business facial expression. The last thing I wanted was to get caught by someone, and look like some sort of maniac, breaking into an empty house. The breaking in part was correct, I admit, but I would rather not be humiliated by people thinking I was a mad woman.
Well, there was one difference between me and Janet.
Finally, the door opened entirely, and revealed a room that had pretty much gone to ruin. The landing, as I presumed it had used to be, had been entirely taken over by cobwebs, and the dust that layered the floor and banisters was so thick, you could barely see the brown wood it sat neatly upon.
I looked around the room again, noting every detail. I wanted to remember this. I couldn't put my finger on as to why this was, but I decided to follow my instincts, and tried to memorize.
The small room gave me the impression that it used to be quite pleasant, as the faded, peeling wall paper, showed a simple yet sweet pattern, of some birds on a tree, however the cracks and brown stains on the wall made it hard to appreciate. Leaves, twigs and acorns lay on the floor boards, (courtesy of the smashed windows next to the door) and had created deep, unfortunate scratches on the woodwork below my feet.
I shuffled into the living room, next door, and sniffed. The room had a strange odour, of wet dog, and... stale bread?
The living room had the same impression as the landing, with cobwebs on the moth eaten sofas and splashes of mould on the peeling wall paper. The pattern on the wall paper resembled once again the birds sitting in the tree, however the colour was a light blue, when in the hallway, it was a mild beige colour. Something shining in the corner of the room, suddenly caught my eye. It was a photo frame, sitting quietly on the coffee table. It was of a boy who looked about 5 maybe 6, and he was laughing, as if overjoyed about something. I smiled warmly.
Children always tended to lighten my heart.
I delicately placed the picture back down upon the miniscule table, at which point my eyes drifted to the vast painting above the filth encrusted fire place.
This, I presumed, must be Janet.
A lean woman, sat rigidly upon a stool, stared right at me (well, the painter I suppose) and had a dark expression on her face. She was dressed in a black veil, that almost covered all of her face. Her exposed neck, was a deathly white colour, and her face was expressionless.
I stared. Perhaps this had been painted before she commit suicide.
Suddenly.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the stairs.
My blood ran cold.
My heart travelled swiftly into my throat.
I wasn't....
Alone.
YOU ARE READING
The Woman In Black
HorrorA scream. My scream. A sickening noise, of bones grinded into dust. My bones. A deathly silence, filling the dull, grey room with pure terror. My terror. She's here. And there's no way to escape her.
