The Horrors Anthology

The House

Climbing onto the next branch I heard a rip and, a few seconds later, my nurse's shrill voice resounded in the court yard. "Miss PRITCHARD!"
I turned my head and glanced down at her. Nurse Gertrude's plump figure was strolling towards me. Her face was redder than a tomato, and her hands were shaking so much in fury that she had ripped the book she'd been reading.
"YOUNG LADY!" Nurse Gertrude was screeching now, and I was sure all the birds in the vicinity must have fled in terror. "You will come down from that tree this instant or I will call the guards to climb up there and-"
"I can see it!" I exclaimed, interrupting her hysterical cries.
"- fetch- What?" Nurse Gertrude looked up at me, momentarily distracted.
"I can see the old house across the lot!" I said.
Nurse Gertrude sniffed, as if she had detected a foul odour. "Oh, that old place. It's dilapidated, ugly and growing increasingly unstable by the minute. No one's lived there in ages. I'll be glad when they finally tear it-"
"I think there's someone inside!"
Nurse Gertrude stopped short, her words caught in her throat. But within a second she had recovered. "Alright, Miss, that is quite enough. You're letting your imagination run away with you again. Come, we have better clean you up before-"
"Emily? Are you out there?" the sound of my mother's voice made my heart jump. I slid down the tree trunk and ran to her.
"Mum!"
Mother smiled at me, picking a leaf out of my hair. "Sweetheart. Your Uncle Joseph is here. Why don't you run along and say hello?"
"Uncle Joseph!" I didn't need to be asked twice. Aside from my mother, Uncle Joseph was my favourite person in the whole world.
As I barged into the living room, he was sitting on the couch. His face was clean shaven and he had a blue uniform on. His eyes glinted with amusement as he caught sight of me.
"Well, who's this dirty little monster?"
I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck. "Uncle Joseph! Oh, it's been so long! Where have you been?"
Uncle Joseph pried me off him, and smiled. "I've been out at sea, Emily. I work on a boat. See this uniform?" He pointed at his shirt and pants. "I'm part of the navy now."
I giggled, feeling the thick fabric of his jacket. "Did you learn anything?"
Uncle Joseph laughed heartily, and then picked me up and set me on the couch beside him. He grabbed a piece of paper. "Watch this," he said.
With a pen, he began writing a series of dots and dashes on the page. There didn't appear to be any apparent pattern, except that they were split into small groups, and each group was a different arrangement of dots and dashes. One group was just a single dot. Another was a single dash.
When he had finished, he set the pen down and gestured to the page. "This is called Morse code, Emily. It's what we use to communicate overseas." He pointed a group of dots. "Each of these groups represent a letter." He pointed to the single dot. "This, for example is the letter 'E'."
"So it allows you to talk with people far away?" I asked.
Uncle Joseph nodded.
I took the paper. "Can I keep this?"
"Of course."
I folded the piece of paper up carefully and put it into my dress pocket. Then I turned my attention back to my uncle.
"Uncle Joseph, can I ask you question?"
"Of course, honey," Uncle Joseph replied.
"What do you know about the old house across the lot?"
Uncle Joseph thought for a minute. "You mean the old Goldman house?"
I shrugged. "I guess."
The corner of Uncle Joseph's lips twitched. "Oh Emily, I don't think you want to hear about that house," he said mischievously.
I hopped off the couch and starting jumping up and down. "But I do, Uncle Joseph. What about that house?"
Uncle Joseph leaned forward, and looked me right in the eye. "Well, it used to be the home of a lovely couple, the Goldmans. They moved there when they had just gotten married, and in a few years, they had a son and a daughter."
'Their son was a bright young boy, and their daughter, the most beautiful girl. The years flew by, and soon they were all grown up. The Goldmans realized it was time for their children to get married."
'Their son soon married a lovely girl who was the daughter of a wealthy banker. They moved to another town, and their son returned to visit occasionally."
'But their daughter, Marilyn, despite being introduced to many wonderful young men, each from a better family than the last, refused to be married. For a while, the Goldmans thought they had just failed to find the right man. But eventually, Mr. Goldman realized something was wrong."
'One night, he was awoken by a noise. Mr. Goldman found it was coming from Marilyn's room. He ran to her room, shotgun in hand, only to discover that she was having a secret rendez-vous with the gardener's son. They had been meeting every night, for a very long time now, and had planned to elope soon."
'Mr. Goldman was outraged. He fired the gardener, and told him to bring his son as far away as possible. He also forbade his daughter from ever seeing the boy again."
'After that day, Marilyn stayed in her room for a week, crying. Then, when she finally came out, she was a different person. She didn't talk anymore, except in grunts and low growls, like a wild animal."
'A few days later, her brother, the Goldmans' son, returned to visit. That night, he stayed with the Goldmans in their house."
'In the middle of the night, the neighbours were awoken to the sound of a shotgun being fired. Marilyn Goldman had shot both her parents and her brother. Afterwards, she had slit her own wrists."
'They found the bodies the next day. They carried them out to the morgue, and prepared them for burial. Except when they went to bury the bodies, they found that Marilyn's corpse was gone. It had vanished into thin air."
"Where did it go?" I asked.
"They say she went back home, to the house, and that she is in the bedroom now, at this very moment, waiting for the gardener's son, her long lost love, to come and find her."
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Later that night, I got out of bed and lit an oil lamp by the window. In front of me, a message had been translated into Morse code. Using a dark piece of cloth to cover the lamp between dots and dashes, I spelled out the message through my window in direction of the Goldman house.
MARILYN IF YOU ARE THERE PLEASE GIVE A SIGN
When I finished, which took a very long time, the night remained still as ever. Well, it was worth a shot, I thought. Perhaps Marilyn doesn't know Morse code. Or maybe a story is just a story.
I blew out my oil lamp and turned to draw my curtains.
Across the lot, at the Goldman house, the window of the second-floor bedroom lit up.