scary horror tales

family secrets

The clock stood in the hall. One of the truly magnificent pieces of the Walter Family's estate, the clock was made of heavy mahogany and showcased a large, mother-of-pearl face with hands of sculpted bronze. Each hour the tall clock rumbled in the hall, resolutely calling the hour, the passage of time.
No one knew who originally designed the clock. Some in the family claimed it was made by an Austrian watchmaker by special commission. Others said it was given to the family many generations back as payment for some debt. No one knew for sure, but it mattered little. The general consensus was the same: although the clock was magnificent, there was something oddly sinister about it.
It was a hard thing to explain, really. It wasn't that the clock was ugly. Indeed, quite the opposite was true. It was heavily decorated with carved cherubs, shined glossy. The face radiated pink, blue, and ivory in the sun, while the heavy bronze hands moved about elegantly, their pieces intricately carved. Even the deep groan of its chiming bells resonated with a kind of stately grandeur.
Guests to the house often stopped to comment on its beauty, but only at a distance. Even the most ardent admirers of its artistry rarely approached it directly. Indeed, most people walked by it quickly, suppressing a shudder. Even Nadia, one of Old Lady Rose's many descendants and the current owner of the estate, rushed passed it when outright avoidance was impossible. In fact, the only person who seemed able to maintain her nerve in the face of the clock's strange atmosphere was Nadia's youngest daughter, Isobeth.
At thirteen years old, Isobeth was the quintessential misfit. She preferred books to play, spiders to dolls, and twilight to midday. Although she was both pale and blonde in appearance, she was a dark spirit drawn to all things macabre. However, even she was not totally immune to the influence of the clock.
She'd never mentioned it to anyone, but she'd always felt oddly drawn to the elegant timepiece. Sometimes, as she made her way down the mahogany-paneled hallway, she felt as though it were actually calling to her. She found this somewhat unsettling, but also intriguing. She'd approach the wooden monolith with an odd mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Then, she'd stare it down as though she were challenging it to a duel. Sometimes Nadia would catch her daughter in the act; her back rigid, her violet eyes peering into the clock's iridescent face the way one might stare down an adversary. Nadia was never quite sure what to make of it.
"What on earth are you doing, my dear?" her mother would ask.
"The clock...it watches me," is all Isobeth would say.
Nadia was always left standing, awkwardly, in the shadowy hall. After her daughter had gone, she would approach the clock gingerly, trying to feel what Isobeth had felt. But, she could never feel anything but the vague uneasiness.
Things took an odd turn when, suddenly, the nightmares began. Each night at 3am Isobeth would awaken, screaming. It was a blood-curdling scream; the kind that caused one to freeze upright in bed, unable to move. Servants inevitably rushed in to assist her. They always found her in the same posture: in a tight ball under the covers, face on knees. When she was extricated from her sheets, she always seemed oddly surprised, as though she'd been set free from a terrible trap. Then she'd roll over and go right back to sleep as though nothing at all had happened.
This went on for a fortnight. Various attempts were made to explain the sudden appearance of the nightmares, but no solution could be found. When queried, Isobeth could never really recall what had happened to cause her to scream, but she felt, vaguely, that it was somehow connected with the front hall and the clock. After two weeks of disturbed sleep, Nadia became desperate. The staff looked half dead and she was at her wit's end.
Determined to find a solution, Nadia decided that, since Isobeth seemed bothered by the clock, perhaps she should try having it removed for a while. She called some friends at the local antiques dealership and asked them if they would be willing to keep the clock for a spell. They reluctantly agreed. After all, who would want to take on the protection of such an expensive heirloom?
Removing the clock was a massive undertaking, but in the end, Nadia was glad she'd gone through with the operation. Almost immediately, the screaming stopped. Indeed, Isobeth slept soundly for another fortnight. After two weeks of peace, Nadia was on the verge of declaring the whole experiment a rousing success. However, she soon discovered that she need not have been so bold.
On the fourteenth night, instead of screaming, Isobeth rose at precisely 3am. In a dream-like state she walked out of her room, down the upper hallway, down two sets of stairs, passed the landing, through the gallery, all the way to the front hall where the clock once stood. There, she stood absolutely still for about 10 minutes. And then, as if someone had snapped his fingers, she'd awakened, startled and confused.
This was all discovered through pure chance. A servant had risen to get a glass of water because she couldn't sleep. When she entered the front hall, she saw Isobeth standing there in her nightdress. Then, while she watched, Isobeth seemed to stir and look around. It was clear the girl had no idea why she was in the front hall. The same set of events transpired on the following evening. This went on for another two weeks. That's when Isobeth began to see the girl.
At first she was a small, clear light, strangely fog-like and murky. However, as time passed, she became more and more distinct. The first time it happened, Isobeth didn't know whether she should stay and observe the strange apparition, or run screaming from the hall in terror. She chose the former, much to the relief of the rest of the household.
This went on for some time (the walking, the waking, and the seeing of the bizarre, glowing girl in the hall); however, it was tolerated because Isobeth didn't seem to mind, and neither did anyone else. No one was being awakened at 3am, no one's sleep was being disturbed, and Isobeth rarely spoke of it.
Indeed, a kind of routine developed. The only thing that seemed to change was Isobeth's location. Sometimes she was directly across from the clock. Other times she was kitty-corner from it. Sometimes she was down the hall farther. It became a game among the servants to bet on where she would turn up from one night to the next. Indeed, the serving staff drew lots each evening to determine whose sleep would be disturbed. In most cases, the servant who "won" would have to rise at 3am and take a peek over the banister to see where she was. The following morning, the staff member would report Isobeth's location on the previous night and payouts would be made.
One December night, Susan, the pantry maid, drew the shortest straw. However, her room was in a different part of the house than much of the serving staff because her room was located right next to the kitchen. This is why, when Susan came to the front hall she was able to see, not only Isobeth, but also the little ghost.
Isobeth had awakened several minutes before Susan's arrival and, therefore, had heard her approaching. Isobeth turned to look at Susan, but the maid seemed not to see Isobeth at all. She was completely mesmerized by the shimmering light glowing softly at the base of the wall where the clock once stood.
Isobeth was completely unmoved by the sight of the ghost in the hall. She'd seen it for weeks. Instead, she looked at Susan and asked: "What are you doing up?"
"Who is that?" pointed Susan, ignoring the question.
"The girl," Isobeth answered, quite naturally, "she comes every night."
"Does she always look like that?" Susan moved closer, calmed by Isobeth's seemed indifference. She studied the strange apparition, unable to take her eyes from the figure of the ghostly little girl who sat with her face down and her knees drawn up.
"Yes, she's always in that position. I don't know why," Isobeth shrugged, "she seems sad."
"Does she move?" Susan took another step forward, "Does she speak?"
"I've never tried to speak to her," Isobeth replied, "all I know is, she doesn't move, and she never looks at me."
"I wonder if she'd speak to you if you addressed her. She must be here for some reason, mustn't she? I mean, you don't just camp out each night in a drafty hallway for no reason, do you?" Susan reasoned.
"I don't know," Isobeth shrugged again, "it's not as though she can feel the chill."
"For shame!" Susan said quickly, chastising her in a harsh whisper, "You know not what she feels."
"True, but neither do you," Isobeth challenged.
"Aye... I suppose that's true enough," Susan admitted. A brief silence followed before she spoke again, "it is odd, though, her sitting there like that."
"I feel like she's here for a reason, but I don't know what it is....like she has something important to say, but she doesn't speak."
"Maybe you should try speaking to her," Susan suggested.
"I don't think she'd speak with someone else here. I'm not sure why."
"Well, maybe I should go back to bed then..." Susan whispered before attempting to tip-toe away.
Just then, the glowing figure faded in brightness and disappeared.
"She's gone," Susan breathed, walking forward suddenly.
"Aye, she does that. She's only here a short while," Isobeth answered, nonchalantly.
"I wonder where she goes," Susan said, not really expecting an answer.
"I've often wondered why she suddenly started appearing. The clock was always there before, wasn't it? It's odd. I used to walk down this hallway after dark all the time, but I never saw her until recently," Isobeth replied.
Susan grew brave and moved closer to the wall. On a whim, she began running her hand through the air near the place where the spectral girl once sat. She glanced absently at Isobeth and noted the girl's confused expression. Slightly ashamed, Susan began tapping on the wainscoting instead. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, really, except some clue as to where the ghost might have come from or where she might have gone. At one point, as she patted an area of the wall, she was startled by the strangely hollow sound that emanated from it.
"I wonder what that is," Susan murmured.
"What do you mean?" Isobeth saw the look of wonder on Susan's features, "Is there something there?"
"I'm not sure," Susan answered, before kneeling down to knock more aggressively. She started near the place where the spectral girl had just been seen and then moved down the hallway, rapping on the wall as she moved along. There was no mistaking it. The area behind the clock sounded different than the rest of the wall.
"It IS hollow there," remarked Susan, walking back toward Isobeth.
"I wonder what it means," Isobeth wondered aloud.
"There must be an empty space behind the wall," Susan suggested, "maybe the little ghost is guarding something? Maybe there's a treasure?"
"Or, maybe a grave," Isobeth countered.
"Why must you be so morbid?" Susan sighed.
"It's just as likely as a treasure."
"Who'd bury someone in a wall?" Susan challenged skeptically.
"Someone who didn't wish to be found out, I suspect."
"Ugh," Susan shivered, looking up and down the long, dark hallway, "let's talk of something else."
Isobeth merely sighed and began to walk back to her room.
"Will she come tomorrow, do you think?" Susan pursued.
"Most likely," Isobeth remarked, not turning around.
"If she does, I think you should try speaking to her. Try to find out what she wants."
"Perhaps," was all the answer she received.