Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story, The Tale of the Phantom Footsteps….
The original part of Lou's house was built in 1603. The same year queen Elizabeth I died. It had survived the English Civil war, the black death, and more than four hundred years of life. Of course over the years it had been updated and for the most part it was a victorian gothic revival that always made Kate think of Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'.
It had been an unseasonably cold but still beautiful autumn day spent wandering the Yorkshire Moors finding fairy caves and watching hares jumping between the clumps of purple heather. All wrapped up in winter coats Kate and Daryl had picnicked in the middle of a bronze age stone circle with a flask of tea and a ploughman's sandwich.
Now their cheeks were rosy with the bite of the moorland breeze and the tips of Kate's fingers numb as they climbed over the stile that led to Lou's old house. Even the dark facade couldn't distract from the welcoming idea of a toasty fire and a hot drink.
Kate nudged open the front door feeling almost like an intruder since Lou was away while they were staying here. Without Lou to greet them in the hallway, the dark wooden paneling and dusty stone floor had an eerie feeling. Daryl didn't seem to notice or care as his arms wrapped around her centre, pulling her against him. His lips tickled along her neck as he unzipped her coat.
"I'll build the fire," he said, his voice husky in her ear, "you put the kettle on."
"Ahhh," Kate's eyes lit up as she turned to face him, "you sound like an Englishman."
He snorted, rolling his eyes and heading into the living room.
They settled onto the thick living room rug with nothing but the cracks of burning wood and the ticking of the grandfather clock to interrupt their lovemaking. Daryl rolled onto his side, taking Kate with him and holding her tight as his thumb brushed a relaxing path along her spine. She loved days like this, days when it could feel like there was nothing but the two of them and anything seemed possible.
"I feel kinda bad…" Daryl mumbled.
Kate sighed dreamily, "why?"
"For what we just did… ya know, in Lou's sittin' room."
Kate snorted, "oh you seemed to be feeling exceptionally bad when you were peeling my knickers off with your teeth."
Daryl slapped her arse. "I felt bad then too… I just felt too damn horny to care."
"Don't worry, Lou lives in his library," she rolled away from Daryl, scooping up his shirt and slipping it on. "He says she creeps him out too much…" Kate pointed to the china doll that sat in the corner of the room on top of a mahogany sideboard.
/
Daryl pulled on his pants and ventured to take a closer look, his face screwing up in distaste, "jesus." What kind of person would own such a thing. One of the dark eyes was drooping half closed in a sad sort of way, the ruffles on the dress were worn and sitting in a little gold frame. Next to the doll was a photograph.
In the black and white photo sat a little girl, her arms wrapped around the doll. Their hair dressed in matching ringlets and their eyes holding the same vacant expression. A handwritten annotation in the corner read 'Our darling Annie'. But there was something else, something odd that he just couldn't-
"Boo," Kate poked his sides, making him jump with a shout that he would never admit to before he span around and grabbed her up.
"Ya scared the bejesus outta me woman."
Kate laughed, "don't worry, I'll protect you from the creepy dolly. All you have to do is cook me dinner." She gave him one of her butter wouldn't melt smiles and of course he couldn't resist doing exactly what she wanted.
/
The bedroom that they were going to be sleeping in was different to the one Kate had used in the past. She'd usually stay in the tiny room that faced North with a pretty little desk in the window and the best view over the moorland.
Tonight she let Daryl choose. He picked the room with the grand old four poster bed that had been in the house longer than Lou, probably longer than most of the house. It was Jacobean in design, dark carved oak panels and posts. It was rather ugly but Daryl seemed to like it. She thumbed the heavy tapestry curtains that fit neatly between the four poster frame and the historian in her wondered just how many people had spent a night in it, how many lives created, or lost. The last thought made her shudder, as a rule she liked new beds.
She opened her suitcase with plans to unpack before turning to Daryl who was sprawled out like a cat, his t-shirt removed, his eyes watching her every movement. Fuck it, unpacking could wait.
She closed the heavy tapestry curtains, locking out anything but the two of them before she snuggled against him, feeling content, full of wine and food.
Kate was almost asleep, her head pressed in the crook of Daryl's arm when there was a knocking sound. She turned over, sleepy eyes pulling open with a yawn to hear the noise again. Three raps, slow and even. There was a million things that could cause a noise in an old house but that didn't reassure her. Kate settled deeper into the covers, pressing her thigh closer to Daryl's. She was glad he was here to keep her warm and keep the boogeyman at bay.
The knocks came again, five this time, more urgent, more like footsteps. She sat bolt upright, her ears pricking, her eyes springing open to full attention.
Daryl reached for her, trying to pull her body back against his but she stayed perfectly still. "Didn't you hear that?"
Noises thudded again.
Daryl finally took notice, rubbing his hand over his face with a low groan, "it's probably just the wind."
Kate pulled the covers up her chest, a barrier against the noise, a somewhat useless barrier, she rolled her eyes at herself. Daryl was probably right, she was about to lie back down when there was another sound, even closer. The almost inaudible squeak of an old door hinge as it came open, the bedroom door. Her whole body went cold. She suddenly wished she was on the side of the bed that wasn't closest to the door.
She stared at the tapestry curtains with bated breath, her heart pounding, waiting. She imagined them being yanked apart by whatever had opened the door but all was silent. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked on end. Was the door really open? Was she imagining it?
She let out her breath, her heart thundering in her chest before as she whispered, "do you believe in ghosts Mr Dixon?"
Daryl didn't answer. For a split second filled with every horror film she'd ever seen she didn't dare look at him. Then she heard him laugh and braved a glance his way, "Jesus woman, ya almost had me goin' then, there ain't no such thing as ghosts."
"Then what came in the room?"
"The wind probably blew it open…" Daryl jumped from the bed and through the curtains, leaving Kate behind. She followed him, she didn't want to be behind the curtains on her own. Part of her could kick herself for being so ridiculous, the other half of her had read a lot of Stephen King novels.
Daryl was looking around the room and it reminded her of the thousand times she'd done the same thing for Harry. "See… nothin', I'd be more worried 'bout a burglar than a ghost."
"Well that doesn't make me feel better!"
/
Daryl rolled his shoulders, smiling at Kate standing with her big brown eyes all wide wearing nothing but his flannel shirt and some long woolen socks. She was being ridiculous but he couldn't help but think that it was adorable too. "Ya know yer lucky you're so damn pretty. I'll go check all the rooms."
He was about to leave when Kate shouted, "wait."
She turned to open the trunk at the end of the bed before pulling out a huge sword.
"What the hell?" Daryl laughed.
"It's a sword chest from the civil war… this one's blunt of course, Lou thought it would be fun."
"Alright ghostbuster let's go…"
She gave him a look but he couldn't take her seriously with her long socks and even longer sword.
First they checked all the upstairs rooms then they went to the bottom floor. Kate, who was was starting to look a bit sheepish at this fool's errand went to "pop the kettle on" because to her a cup of caffeinated tea before bed was relaxing.
Daryl checked the front door to find it locked before walking into the lounge with one long, toe curling stretch of his arms followed by a yawn that only half formed. "Kate... " he shouted.
"Yeah?" she called over the hum of the kettle.
"What did ya do with the doll?" Daryl walked to the sideboard, touching the space where the doll had been. It was a circle of shiny wood surrounded by a ring of dust.
"What?" Kate stuck her head around the door.
"I said what did ya do with the creepy ass doll?" he pointed to the empty space.
"I didn't touch it."
"Come on Kate… don't fuck with me, it's late."
Kate got that wild look when she was going to give him hell, only this time she also had a sword, "I'm not fucking with you I didn-"
Bang.
Kate and Daryl both looked to the ceiling, a cold chill passed over his skin.
"Do you think I did that too?" she snapped,
Daryl began to run, taking the stairs two at a time with Kate and her ghostbusting sword close behind.
He ran into their room and flicked on the light switch. There it was, just lying there under the bed, glazed eyes watching them. Creepy doll. Had it been there before? He hadn't looked under the bed.
He could hardly look at those glazed eyes. He had the awful idea of them blinking once before she moved but the idea remained only in his head. Kate didn't need to say a word and neither did he. He grabbed her still packed suitcase and they left the house as quickly as possible. Ridiculous or not, explanation or not, he didn't care.
The next morning Lou called Kate. "How was your night?" He asked before adding, "you know I never could stay in the house at this time of year."
When Kate asked why he simply said, "Annie gets lonely."
Thank you for reading!
I was obsessed with Are you afraid of the dark when I was a little girl so I figured now was my chance to take my place at that campfire :)