What a Suprise

 

It was a dare. I didn't want to go in, but if I chickened out ... well. They would never live it down. Not even Kelly - my best friend - would.

"Come on Till's!"

"You drew the short straw!"

"Do it ... do it ... do it ... do it!"

So I had to go into the so called 'Hendrew Haunted House'. It was apparently haunted, but who believes those stories anyway? They're just little tales to stop you from entering property.

We'd been going on about it for weeks now. Who ever drew the short straw had to check the place out. Me. But I wasn't scared of an old, scrappy, dead cottage. Oh no. The lady - Hendrew [widowed] - had died, way back but the cottage she owned was never sold off. Then the estate agents gave up on it and left the place to die.

 

Off I went. Down the road, and as soon as I had passed the creaky gate, the scrap-like cottage had life. I kept on looking back to see if they would find the sympathy and let me off. But no, instead, they ushered me on. Towards the rotting door. I turned back, one more time, but they had long gone. I could see them turning the corner, screaming " good luck Till's!"

 

I only stood there for less than five seconds before feeling a presence. Without a thought, I whispered 'let's get this out of the way', and ran inside the oldest building in the world.

 

The door slammed, so that I jumped, and the previously collected dust whisked away and out of sight.

"Have you come to buy my house?" A voice which I an only describe as warm, welcoming, slightly croaky, but most of all curiously; wondering. I searched for the owner of the voice, but found nothing so gave up, relaxed, and decided to check the place out.

The hallway collected dust rather well, as it was on every square inch. As my hand brushed past the banister, I felt as though I had just realised how old this place actually was.

There were two doors to the left, one leading into a finely furnashed living room. Two two-seater sofas, in the 'fifties' style. And in the middle of the room, a cute little coffee table. Made of, what I believe to be oak - but I'm not that good with wood.

Then in the other room, the kitchen. Blue cupboards and drawers withan extremely old cooker - ancient. Then, in the centre of the room, a table with four chairs. By now I was getting the idea that Hendrew was a fifties woman.

Back in the hallway, on the right were the stairs. My curiosity got the better of me so I drove myself up. But after just a few steps, that voice softly spoke. It asked "did you like it down there?"

I had to reply, so I whispered, just under my breath "yes, thank you."

"Would you like to come upstairs? First door to the left is my room. Please come in."

"Oh, okay."

I had to find the owner of the voice, so I quickly got upstairs and went to th first door on my left.

I had to prepare myself for this. Put my mind at rest. So, cautiously but quickly, I opened the creamy painted door.

 

A white-painted metal framed bed, with a pattern of swurls. Upon the bed layed a blue and yello duvet. It was in stripes, thick, with blue and yellow, thinly striped pillows. All of this was ever so neatly layed upon a mattress I badly wanted to try out. Just behind the door were creamy drawers with a pretty box placed neatly upon it. The box was open, and inside it were priceless things. Pearls, diamonds, gold, silver - all real! Then there was a creamy wardrobe  which matched the drawers [I believed them to be matched together] rising high to the ceiling. There was a dressing table, with gold-plaited mirrors. 'Fancy' I thought. There, sat on a sweet chair, was a ghost.

 

My mouth gawped open.

"Well, hello. I am Mrs Hendrew. You've come to look at my cottage? Yes - okay. I've not had visitors for many years. I have scually forgot how long. Well, I do hope you are enjoying yourself. I shall stop blabbing on. What is your name?"

Here, in front of my real eyes, was a ghost.

"Umm ... ah ... umm ..."

"Well, spit it out deary."

"Umm ... well ... my name ..."

"What, just because I'm a ghost, you are so suprised?"

 

You could see through the widow-ghost. A plumpy woman [if that's what you wish to call 'her' or 'it' or whatever], with a double chin. Hendrew wore glasses, much too small for her eyes. And a dress, blue with molecule sized yellow flowers, 'fifties styled' by a white collar. All of this was topped by a hair net over her hair, and a small [I guess size three] shoes. Black, with a buckle.

 

"Tilly. Tilly's my name."