✔ | PAINTED IN CRIMSON | T. SHARPE

TWO | GHOST STORIES

❝ Follow me, I'll guide you,
I won't lead you astray. ❞

─────── 

TWO | GHOST STORIES

I shut the door of the car and held the keys in my hand as I approached to the post office on the other side of the road. Men were carrying boxes and taking them inside the place.

Dodging a couple of men that carried a big package in their hands, I finally reached the reception counter. An old man received me with a smile and I reciprocated.

"Afternoon, missy. What can I do for you?" He said as he put a couple of letters on the counter.

"Hello, I-" He interrupted me.

"You're not from here, aren't you?" I let out a soft chuckle, was it that obvious?

"No, I'm not," I said and he nodded, "Do you have a map I can buy? My GPS isn't at its best right now, the god damn thing won't work so I'll have to do it the old way," he began to look for a map, but he didn't have one. I had arrived at Cumbria in six hours or so, but since my GPS wasn't working and the civilisation seemed to end in that very point of the road, I decided to stop and ask for directions.

"Sorry, sweetie. This place is not very visited by travellers, only locals and well, they don't need a map of the place."

"Right," I bit my lower lip while thinking, "thank you, anyway . . ." I said, smiling as I turned around and made my way back to the car. Maybe if I tried again, the GPS would work, no, I couldn't take that risk and get lost in that place. I stopped walking and turned to the counter again, "Sorry . . ." The old man looked up at me again, I tilted my head, "Can you tell me how much further Allerdale Hall is?" The warm smile he had given me a while ago disappeared and it turned into a flat line on his lips and a mask of fear.

"You don't want to go there, love." He croaked.

"Pardon?" I said, tilting my head and giving him a confused look.

"It's been abandoned and nobody goes up there."

"Nobody goes?" He shook his head.

"Not anymore, darling. It's a one hour drive from here, following the road . . . but I wouldn't go there if I were you."

"Why . . ." One of the young men that were outside came and placed a package on the counter, he didn't say a word, he only placed the package, gave us a quick look and left, "Why not?" I asked when he was gone.

"Sometimes the less you know the better," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"It's . . . it's a lonely part of town, you shouldn't be alone there, never," He said annoyed and I nodded.

"Yeah, right . . ." I cleared my throat, "Thank you so much for the information and, the advice," I bowed my head at him and walked back to the car. I had just walked through the wide open doors when a man grabbed my arm, instinctively I released myself and glared at him.

"Don't go there," He said. It was the same man that left the package inside. Blond hair, blue and sparkling eyes, I sighed and looked at my surroundings.

"Then tell me why," I said annoyed. His lips parted, but hesitated to pronounce the words.

"Bad things happened in that house, and people who went there in the past . . ." He shook his head, "They, they never came back," I stared at him and nodded, not believing a word but knowing exactly what he tried to say.

"It's haunted?" He nodded and I couldn't help but chuckle, "Ghosts, spirits . . . that sort of things?" He nodded again, "Old houses always have myths and legends, and they just that, myths and legends."

"I know. But those are not only myths and legends, not here," I was growing tired of all that, I began to walk towards the car, keys in hand and determined to stop the chit-chat with that man.

"Right . . ." I opened the door, "I'm sorry, but I have to go now, I don't have time to talk about haunted houses," I shut the door behind me and sighed deeply as I gripped the steering wheel. The man slid his hard into his pockets and only stared at me, "What's the thing with these people?" I muttered, glancing at him. He was freaking me out. I buckled my seat belt and finally he went into the post office again.

Well, a one hour drive didn't sound that bad. I smiled to myself when I saw I still had petrol come back to the town if I wanted. I started the engine and the radio began to play, the music accompanied me as I drove on the asphalted road.

The very few trees and shrubs I found on my way, became overgrown as I went deeper into the road, and its asphalt was soon replaced by the mere soil and tree leaves that the autumn had claimed. Brown and yellow hues were all I could see scattered all over the soft green fields and how those leaves were dragged by the wind. Maybe it was my imagination or I was too traumatised by the hustle and bustle of London, but the place seemed so quiet to me, dreadfully quiet yet oddly peaceful and relaxing.

Apparently, I drove a little bit too fast, since forty minutes later, the imposing house rose before my eyes, "Oh my God . . . this is, unbelievable," The words slipped out of my mouth as a whisper and a shocked smile crossed my lips. I continued my way until I met the rusty gate with the words Allerdale Hall. The withered bindweed tangled up the gates and I had to take it off the chains that didn't even secure the doors, to finally open them and finally get into the property.

The red path among the large and never ending grass fields, headed me to the main entrance. The peculiar machine on the front immediately caught my eye. As soon as I left the car, I made my way towards it. The scarlet clay surrounded everything and then I knew that it had been a bad idea to wear white flats for walking around, at least outside.

With my fingers, I timidly touched the rusty gears, it was clearly a clay harvester, a very old one I walked around it touching here and there, admiring such incredible machine. A cold breeze made me return to reality. Winter was near, it was almost palpable in the air. The soft breeze played with my hair and gave me the impression that it caressed my face instead just blowing and dragging leaves with it.I went back to the car for my suitcase, my bag and more stuff I thought I'd need.

I opened the boot to take a couple of canvases I had brought too. Painting relaxed me when the writer's block decided to turn my life into a nightmare.

Once I had everything out and next to the door, I began to look for the keys into the gym bag I got from Josh. It was an old keyring, I had never noticed how many keys were in it. I hadn't seen them in a while, dad used to keep them in his studio and I wasn't allowed to go there. My eyes met a unique key among the others and caressed it with my thumb.

"Enola . . ." I whispered to myself, the word felt familiar somehow.

Trying to make sense, I repeated it in my head over and over again, but failed. I looked up at the door and walked towards it. I didn't have to use the ancient keys, since it wasn't locked, but it didn't give way at first, a forceful push was needed. I opened it without knowing the consequences.

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