Slightly Macabre Stories

The Manor

I used to stay at a manor before moving to the apartments. The manor consisted of a rather old mansion and some land and it belonged to one of my friends who had migrated to somewhere else in Europe. It was passed down his family for generations, which wasn't much of a big deal to me since I always knew that Harry was rich.

At first I was reluctant to stay over at the manor all by myself. I had so many questions that were left unanswered. Like why wasn't any of his relatives living in it? Had my friend been really staying there all alone? Was it safe staying out there in the open? But in the end, I didn't have any choice but take Harry up on his offer. I could live in the manor for free at most for five months as long as I pay for my groceries. It was a deal I couldn't exactly ignore, especially when I didn't have the money to afford any other housing.

Before leaving the country, Harry handed me the keys and gave me directions to the manor as well as some basic instructions such as how to keep the heater going and who to call if the boiler broke. Winter was coming and if I couldn't keep the manor well-heated, I might as well kill myself. He gave me plenty of warnings and told me of stories that happened to his grandparents who suffered through the winter when they didn't stock up on enough food. I nodded along absent-mindedly.

"And don't be too curious," he told me sharply as he handed the keys over to me.

"Curious?"

"Don't go investigating like Sherlock Holmes if you find anything strange!"

"Why would I do that?"

"You're an idiot. You're always curious," he shook his head. I made a face.

"Just remember that this is my family's house. I don't want you interferring in my family's history, alright?"

I promised and he went off. His words had amused me but I knew when Harry was being serious. If he didn't want me investigating, I was going to be true to my words.

The first month passed by quickly and I was pleasantly surprised that I had not gone crazy from being the sole inhabitant of the manor. I still had the internet, though, so I guess that was keeping the loneliness away. The manor was quite beautiful and I was really thankful that it didn't look like one of those haunted mansions always featured in horror movies. The interior was finely furnished and well-maintained despite not housing any people for many years. When I wasn't stuck behind the computer and working, I would often walk around the manor to take in the sights.

But the peace ended abruptly.

A few days into my second month, I woke up to the sound of a hair-raising screech. It wasn't very loud yet it still pierced my eardrums like a needle. In my sleep-drunken state, it set my heart racing. I found myself staring into space with wide eyes. It wasn't a human scream, it was too high-pitched for that. Probably the sound of pushing a heavy object across the floor. I didn't know where it came from but it sounded like it was from somewhere far away in the manor. The screech only lasted a few seconds but it took almost ten minutes to calm myself down and go back to sleep.

The screech continued on nightly. I was on the edge every time I woke up, clutching onto my blanket like a little kid. I couldn't come up with any logical explanation for it. The only idea I could come up with was that because of the coming winter, the machineries were going crazy. But even that didn't seem likely.

I often thought of investigating the sound but I couldn't bring myself to. I was terrified of what I might find and Harry's words to not be too curious alway echoed in my mind. I pushed myself to think of other things and comforted myself with the thought that the screeching noise was the only weird thing going on in this manor. Nevertheless, I was still very jumpy.

Two weeks later, the manor grounds were coated in snow. Beforehand, I had brought the small fridge stocked with food and portable cooker set that Harry had given me into my room. Like the lazy bear I was, I decided to hibernate in my room. I was so ready for the winter!

All was well, other than the nightly screeching, and I was beginning to get comfortable. Unfortunately, I thought wrong.

On the 6th of December, I woke up again to the sound of screeching. But before I could go back to sleep, a crash resounded throughout the manor. I immediately leapt out of bed. It wasn't just a crash. It was a painful ochrestra of shattering plates and a hollow thud of a large wooden object falling down. I felt the responsibility to check up on it but I was more anxious of whatever caused the mess. Fear eventually took control and I quickly locked my door shut.

The next thing I did was to email Harry.

I was too scared to sleep. All of the scenes in horror movies replayed in my mind and all I could do was just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, silently praying that the crash was no big deal. But I knew that my prayers were fruitless.

Harry replied the next day.

Harry: Stay in your room and don't go out. Lock the door and make sure that the keys stay with you. No matter what happens, don't open the door until I'm there. The latest I can come back is in three days.

I would be lying if I said that his response didn't scare me more than the sounds at night.

Just as I had expected, the sounds didn't repeat themselves at night from then on. My mind was going wild, thinking of whatever could be waiting for me outside. Was it some sort of monster? The only hope I had was that I would be free from this Hell in three days.

It was only on the final day when there was a soft knock on my door. I froze and uncurled from my bed, almost not daring to believe my ears. The knocks continued. I grabbed my bag and ran to the door. My hand was on the knob and I was about to unlock the door when I stopped. What if it wasn't Harry?

I let go of the knob and stared at the wooden panel, desperately hoping for him to say something. Something that would let me know it was Harry and not the monster. Instead, the knocks began to grow more frantic. The knob twisted and turned as if it was possessed. There was a strangled and choked up wail from behind the door but I was too scared to move. Finally, I retreated back to my bed, my eyes stuck on the door for fear that it would break open.

I didn't know how long it lasted. But just as my legs were about to become numb, there was a suffocatingly loud scream. A gunshot. Then, all went silent.

Something was being dragged away.

I couldn't stand it. I unlocked the door and walked out.

At the sound of my footsteps, Harry turned back and stared at me. A worried smile crossed over his face. I simply stared at him, feeling my grip on the strap of my bag tighten.

"Is everything alright?" he asked and I nodded dumbly.

"You didn't tell me that this house was haunted."

"I came back because I thought you were going crazy being all alone. I checked the house but there's nothing broken. You must have been hearing things because you were holed up in this building all by yourself," he laughed and then pointed at the room, "I tried knocking on the door but you didn't answer."

"I was paranoid."

"By the way... I know a friend who's willing to rent you a room in her apartment. You don't mind leaving this place, right?"

"I would love nothing more," I smiled back and walked past him, my eyes set squarely on the front door. Harry cleared his throat and I stopped.

"And you didn't see anything, did you?"

"Of course not," I replied, averting my eyes away from the bloodied corpse beside him. The gun was still in his hand.

"Good."

That was the last time I had ever spoken to Harry.