The Haunting Within (17 page)

53

With a deep but quiet sigh, he turned his attention back to the door. He was intrigued as to what lay at the bottom of the dark steps and walked down them with none of the trepidation that Aiden had walking down those very same stairs only the night before. The only thing he was concerned about was losing his footing. The last thing he needed was to be laid up in bed with a broken leg. He didn’t need to be putting on any more weight, so his darling wife always kept reminding him. It wasn’t his fault he had a slow metabolism. She was the one who cooked his food. If she wanted him to lose weight then she shouldn’t put on huge roast dinners and stews followed by sickly sweet desserts. No, he wasn’t the only one to blame for his size. But then, he couldn’t blame his wife. She looked after him very well indeed. He smiled contently to himself as he thought of her bustling about in their cluttered but clean home.

Once at the bottom he squinted for some sort of lighting. Finding none he fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. Flicking it on he saw on the wall next to him a lantern so he put his feeble flame to the paraffin source and was rewarded with light. Pondering which way to go first he chose the left arched doorway and followed it. Looking around him he could not believe where he was. He was where they used to keep the prisoners in cells while their trials were going on! There were small, cramped cells to either side of him that Aiden had not noticed. Bare brick walls and bare floors with hardly enough room to lie down in. No beds, no toilets, nothing. When he was just a boy, his school used to go on visits to places like this and see how different things were in the olden days. It was just like being back at school now.

His thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating sensation in his pocket that ran down the length of his leg. At first he was startled by it, wondering if this was the start of some inevitable illness, then realising it was just his phone he let out a small laugh as he reached to answer it. It was his partner Malcolm asking where he was. As the men spoke about the wonders of the old house, Mr. Matlock continued to look around, exclaiming his admiration down the phone every time he saw something else. Malcolm was used to his partner’s jolly enthusiasm and he took joy from it as he described to him what he saw. They were wonderful friends and had been for many years. Malcolm would always invite the slightly older man and his lovely wife to his home for the Christmas period, knowing they had no children of their own to share it with and that was the way it had been almost all of their long friendship. Malcolm’s wife and children looked at them as part of their family. Malcolm listened intently as his partner described the apparatus he saw before him and the size of the cells he stood in the middle of.

After their chat and once he had completed his tour of the cellar he scribbled some more notes and started to make his way back to the stairs. Reaching the bottom step he suddenly felt a gust of wind rush by him and the wall lantern beside him flickered to and fro for a moment as though trying to cling on to its strength, then it when out, leaving behind a small puff of smoke. Breathing heavily in the darkness he began feeling around for his lighter again to guide him up the stairs when he heard footsteps on the stairs above. They were slow and shambling and heading down towards him. Straining his ears he listened carefully to the footfalls sluggishly coming down, down, down, getting nearer and nearer. Leaning his hand against the wall to see if he could see around the swooping corner of the stairs he held his breath. Nothing! He couldn’t see a thing! Pushing his weakening body away from the wall he unconsciously wiped away the fragments of dry limestone from his sweaty palm. Swallowing hard he took a deep breath and called “Hello?” With his heart in his mouth he waited for the reply, of which he was certain there would be none, then, out of the black void came a small voice.

“Mr. Matlock? It’s me, Lisa.”

Letting out a huge sigh of relief he called back up “Just coming dear.” Who or what was he expecting to be ambling down the stairs towards him? A monster? A ghost? Maybe a serial killer. He had been listening too much to the nonsense his wife watched on TV constantly.
Silly old fool
he thought to himself as he made his way slowly and arduously back up the stone stairs.

Back in the courtroom he shut the door on the deep darkness that waited there and turned to Lisa who had backed up from the top step when she had heard his reply. She had gone to see if he was okay, he had been down there for almost thirty minutes, and she was so glad he had answered her straight away. She certainly didn’t want to venture down there to find him. Apologising for taking so long he followed her out of the room, rationalising with himself that it was the draught from the door being opened which he had felt and what had caused the light to go out too.

Stepping into the kitchen where the family sat, he immediately felt better. Lisa and her mother offered to show him the garden and he was quite taken aback by the breath-taking scenery. Making a rough sketch of the garden’s lay-out on his pad, noting the separate little secret garden at the back of the main garden and he also noted the surrounding forest area that loomed in the backdrop, he then followed mother and daughter back into the house.

“Just one more place to look at now.” He said motioning to the door that stood in the back wall of the kitchen.

They stood and watched with unexplained fear and trepidation in their hearts as he turned the key that was always left in the lock - because if a key is left in a locked door, then whatever is behind it wouldn’t be able to pick the lock to get out, at least that’s why Debbie thought the key was there - unlocked the door that led from the kitchen into the back part of the house.

“What is this part of the house?” asked Mr. Matlock curiously over his shoulder as he stared through the door.

“My father used to run a psychiatric hospital from here when he first moved here. He lived in this part and the hospital was through that door. Do you mind if I stay here? It’s just that I’ve never liked that part. Lisa, would you stay with me love?” Debbie’s eye’s pleaded with her daughter.

Lisa didn’t want to go anyway and was more than happy to oblige her mother. Aiden and Mr. Matlock disappeared through the doors leaving Lisa and Debbie in the kitchen to wash up the pots from dinner.

54

They stood in a very long, strange smelling corridor that was very plain and bland. The walls were painted white and there were no windows; the linoleum on the floor was an ugly mustard colour. The long strip lights over-head were bare and powerful and cast a bright glow on the floor so it looked like it was a sea of urine. Very distasteful thought Mr. Matlock, but then it wasn’t supposed to look nice was it? He thought it was a very interesting prospect for a potential buyer, especially if they were themselves a doctor looking to set up a new practice. Even if a doctor didn’t want it he was sure
something
could be done with it, maybe refurbish it and open it as a hotel. Yes that was a very good point he could put across to perspective viewers of the house. Their shoes squeaked loudly on the linoleum floor as they walked and the echoes bounced from the bare walls, which rather irritated Aiden. He just wanted to get out of this never-ending corridor and back into the warmth of the kitchen. Looking down it, it seemed just that; never-ending. It was very cold in the corridor, so cold in fact that they could see their breath. It just added to the eeriness of it all. Mr. Matlock had noticed the strange atmosphere too, but he just put it down to the fact that it had been at one time a hospital for the insane. That in itself was quite eerie, plus he had to remember it had been empty for goodness knew how long. The look and smell of things made him feel like he was ill. He felt very strange indeed and wanted to hurry back to the warmth and cosiness of the kitchen. Dust webs hung from the lights and all along the bottom of the walls dust had collected along with dead insects.

After passing a large open space with numerous chairs and a work station in it, they finally came to the first door in the corridor and Mr. Matlock enquired with Aiden whether it was okay if
he
opened the door. Aiden was relieved by this and told him to go ahead. He pushed on the old white door with a small square window at eye level that had bars covering it and found it wouldn’t open at first. He gave it a hard shove and it flew open, banging on the wall the other side of it leaving them staring at a small room with a very basic bed in it; a thin, scrawny mattress on a hard metal frame which was screwed into the floor and a small metal toilet. There was nothing else in the room so it made it feel very clinical which was probably how it was meant to feel. The walls were bare brick that had been painted white and the dirty yellow linoleum that was covering the floor in the corridor ran through into the room as well. The light on the ceiling was again a strip light but it was covered with metal mesh so it seemed to be in a cage. Aiden imagined that it looked like a prison cell would look. Mr. Matlock was glad it didn’t look like the cells he had seen in the basement room. That’s what he imagined prison cells to look like, just not so bare. They continued on down the corridor after Richard had made some more notes and they found that all the rooms down the corridor - twenty-three in all, all lining one side of the corridor - were all the same as the first.

Just as they were coming out of the last room along the stretch of corridor, Mr. Matlock thought he saw someone pass along the end of the corridor up ahead of them where they had not yet been. He was quite startled by this and Aiden noticed his slight step back and small gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Aiden asked.

He was about to tell him when he thought better of it. How stupid would it sound? “Nothing. Nothing at all. I just had a slight cramp in my leg, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Shall we?” he asked as he started down the corridor again.

Aiden wasn’t buying it but what could he say? That he had felt things too? Things he could not explain? The estate agent would think he was a nut-job spouting out a load of bullshit. He kept his mouth closed and followed along behind.             

Richard really didn’t want to go any further now but knew he must, so he forced his legs to move and his heart to slow down. It was beating so hard and so fast that he was sure the young man behind him would be able to hear it. He told himself over and over that he was being ridiculous, there was nothing there. He didn’t see anyone, he just thought he did. His mind was playing tricks on him, or it could have been the light. Yes! The light was extremely bright and it rebounded from the floor.

That’s what it must have been, you doddering old idiot!
He thought to himself and felt slightly better about having found a few possibilities for explaining what it was that he saw, or in fact, didn’t see.

55

They turned left at the end of the corridor and spotted two doors exactly the same as the others at the end of this much wider corridor. There were windows here overlooking a much smaller garden. They peered out but couldn’t see much as the windows were filthy with years of neglect. There was a drinking fountain underneath one of the windows that a spider had used for its home. It had spun its web from the handle of the fountain to the drinking spout and it seemed like it had been here for quite a while judging by the thickness of the web. Mr. Matlock briefly wondered how a spider could have gotten in this closed off part of the house, let alone survived and as he walked past the next window he found his answer. He could feel a faint breeze coming through the window and on closer inspection saw a small hole in the wooden frame. He settled on the fact that the spider must have gotten in through there and also go through there to go hunting in the garden for its meals. He knew it must have another web in the garden somewhere because there was no evidence of his food in that web. He thought it rather odd though that a spider would build a web outside for the sole reason of catching food and have another indoors to live in. He heard a little cough from Aiden behind him and realised he had been stood contemplating the spider and its web’s for too long and he gave it no more thought as he moved on towards the two doors waiting for them at the end of this aisle.

As he passed the window Aiden moved closer to get a look outside. There wasn’t much to see. He was hoping for another beautiful garden like the other but it was not to be. As his breath curled from his mouth onto the glass it steamed up. Just about to wipe it with his sleeve Aiden saw something forming under the condensation. Breathing onto it again he saw the definite shape of a hand. Someone had been where he was now; looking out of the window he now gazed through. Terrified, he began to back away and as he did he focused more on the glass than on the handprint and he saw a tall figure in the cell behind him, just standing there, staring at him. He spun around with a gasp that got the attention of the estate agent. Coming to his aide the older gentleman asked in a concerned voice what was wrong. Aiden knew he could not admit what he had just seen, for there was nothing in the cell at all, no-one standing glaring at him. What had he seen then? He was certain there had been someone there. He looked with wide eyes from the room to Mr. Matlock and back again, fear making his heart beat an erratic rhythm in his chest. “Nothing” he whispered while still searching the small room for any signs of evidence.

Chilled to the bone for a reason he could not understand Richard Matlock stared at the young man in front of him. He did not like the colour his skin had turned. He was as white as a ghost. And his eyes! His eyes were darting around as if looking for something that was not there. He could see the sweat on the boys’ forehead and he could see the shivers that ran the length of his body. What had made him react like that? He was quite sure he would not get an explanation from him and even if he gave him one, would he want to hear it? He had never thought of himself as being fanciful in any way but he was not one to assume that he knew everything. He was pretty sure he knew almost nothing in comparison to the world’s great many mysteries, yet he could not help but think there was something strangely odd about the old house he stood in. There was nothing he could do about that though. He couldn’t very well refuse to put it on the market because he thought it felt eerie inside. No, he was here to do his job and do his job he most certainly would do; and to the best of his abilities. Besides, the eerie feeling could have something to do with the woman who had lost her father recently. He could not put his finger on anything in particular, but he sensed something fundamentally wrong. Whether it was with the woman herself, or with the situation he did not know. Perhaps it was the terrible physical appearance of her, all the cuts and bruises. Gently coaxing the young man away from the open cell door he led him further down the corridor. The first door they opened led into a small room with padded walls and a padded floor - the restraint room. It was stiflingly warm in the room compared to the corridor and the other rooms and it was also deathly quiet. It had a repulsive smell of dried perspiration and urine that made them feel ill. The air seemed thick and it felt as if it was clogging their lungs and throat. They got out and closed the door as quickly as possible but found that the sweaty smell of stale body odour and the repugnant, bitter stench of urine still clung inside their nostrils.

The second door led to a large day room. This room was more pleasant than the other rooms. It had soft yellow paint on the walls, although it was cracking in places, and a pale blue carpet with a very busy pattern on that was thick with dust. There were a number of scratched tables with hard plastic chairs sitting around them. There were also about a dozen comfy-looking armchairs that were placed strategically around the room. A large book-case stood against one wall and it was full of board games such as chess and scrabble and bridge. The day-room led to a smaller room with a metal filing cabinet in and a large cupboard with a huge heavy padlock on it. On the door of the cupboard it read “MEDICINES” in typed capital letters. Apart from the door in the room there was a small window that looked onto the day room with glass starting halfway up and a gap at the bottom. It reminded Aiden of the cashier’s desk at the bank. They left the room and walked the other way down the corridor. There were seven doors in total down the second part of the corridor. The first two they came to were both restraint rooms like the other one. Outside the rooms there were six straight jackets hanging on coat hooks moth-eaten and discoloured. Six straight jackets but seven hooks, one empty right at the end. The next room they came to on their right was a kitchen with the basics in; a stove, a sink, a larder. A small closet opened off the room. Inside were mops, step-ladders, buckets, and various other cleaning equipment and moth-eaten cloths. The stench of stagnant water and musty cloths was rife. Another door had a set of keys hanging from a hook next to it. Trying the door they found it locked so Richard took the keys and unlocked it. They discovered that the door led from the kitchen to a small garden. All the plants and flowers out there had long since died due to neglect and weeds. The stems of the flowers had all dried up and wilted and the small area of grass that was once probably a lush green colour was now nothing but dried up yellow hay covering an arid cracked base of mud. Richard imagined it to be a nice little area when well-kept. A nice place for the patients to come and get a bit of fresh air.

Still taking notes as Aiden locked and double checked the door to outside Mr. Matlock tried to stem the trembling of his hands as he wrote. He did not want the young man to see he was afraid. Goodness knows he was scared enough as it was, the poor thing. Mr. Matlock could see that just by looking at him. No, best to get on with his job and then take his leave. He had never understood some people’s desire to be scared. Why would anybody
want
to be frightened? He had never been one for spooky movies and he had yet to encounter his first horror book. It just wasn’t for him. A horror virgin, he could be dubbed. So why was it that some people went out of their way to experience fright? Was it something in their genetic makeup? It seemed absurd to him that anyone would willingly put themselves through something terrifying. Something like visiting a haunted house. Like the one he was in right now because he had no doubt about it; it was haunted. Maybe not in the supernatural sense but there was something certainly off about it. If he had known beforehand would he have still been the one to come? Thinking about it he guessed he would. How often would he get an opportunity such as this? Still, it didn’t mean he had to enjoy being there.

Aiden watched the man in front of him closely. The sweat on his brow kept breaking out no matter how many times he dabbed rhythmically at it with his handkerchief and on his upper lip but that could be from the exertion of walking through somewhere this size. Somehow though, Aiden thought it was because of a different reason. The pleasant-looking man didn’t have so much enthusiasm as before. Nor did he smile so much as frown. He jumped at every small noise. He kept looking behind him as though sensing something there. And his hands shook. Aiden saw him trying to force them to stop but he could see. So it wasn’t just them who were experiencing things. This thought oddly pleased him.

Continuing along they came to another door. It led to a bathroom that contained a small bath and toilet, nothing fancy like the bathrooms in the house with their decorative tiling and complementary flooring; this was just a plain, white bathroom. The room next door mirrored the previous one exactly. The next room down on their left was a staff room. It had large comfy chairs and a small kitchen area and a toilet that led off from it. The last room they came to - and they were extremely glad it was the last - was at the end of the corridor facing them. They pushed the heavy double doors and they squeaked open with an unusual sucking sensation, a bit like the old plastic doors some supermarkets used to have to separate the chilled section from the un-chilled Richard recalled, feeling his age, onto an unusual looking room that was full of strange looking machines and devices. The room was very big, the biggest in this part of the house.

“This must be the treatment room.” Mr. Matlock muttered, morbidly fascinated.

It was very intimidating and oppressing just standing in the doorway. They weren’t in a hurry to explore the room, so they just stayed at the door, Aiden becoming increasingly panicked for now apparent reason, while Mr. Matlock took his notes. Scribbling furiously Richard Matlock did not see one of the curtains billow out, as if disturbed by a gust of wind. But he did see at the back of the room a stack of papers fly off a table onto the floor.              

Aiden turned to him with great fear in his eyes and Richard looked just as scared as him, but he said in a calm voice “There is always a logical explanation for things; you just have to look for it. Maybe the air from out here rushed in when we opened the door and that’s what caused that to happen.” Even so, he was shaking as he said this. “I’ve finished here anyway” he said over his shoulder. “Shall we get back?” and he turned to see the back of the young man disappearing down the corridor without him.