When the Clock Strikes Nine

Chapter 1.

I didn't think much of it at first. Mainly because I am very sceptical concerning old myths and legends. My sister, on the other hand, is all into that kind of business. She loves studying old books and reading up on local lore. I used to make fun of her, calling her a 'walking encyclopaedia on everything useless'. I don't call her that anymore. She would probably call me a hypocrite and storm off to her room and then probably write about me on her blog. Her blog is so popular though- not every thirteen year old runs a successful blog with such a huge following and a very interactive community. At the beginning, I would often tease her about the blog but very soon I was proved wrong. That was the day that I discovered that whatever my sister does is probably for the better and if I do anything to mock her decisions, I would be proved wrong myself.

My name is Jamie Jackson. I am almost seventeen and I would consider myself rather average. I don't have any unusual talents or interests and I engage in normal everyday activities expected of a teenager. I have ordinary friends consisting of my best friend Rupert, his older brother Leo, and my two classmates, Matt and Simon. I have an average family; my dad is a teacher at the local primary school, my mum is a nurse and, of course, my sister, Lisa who is a typical nerd. I enjoy collecting postcards and most of my time is spent on my laptop, listening to music and going on social media. Well, this was how it was before I decided to enter Manford Mansion. I swear that if I could go back in time, I would run from that building before I even got to it. It's easy saying that now, knowing what the consequences of staying would be but, as the saying goes, 'curiosity killed the cat'.

I don't know what to do now . I can't forget and I can't just go back, I risk being caught by my parents. Yet I have to help them but it could prove dangerous for one person. I could take my sister but she would make my life a misery after it was all over. If I told my friends, they would call me crazy and probably wouldn't want to hang out anymore. I can just imagine what they would say. My parents are sceptics and if I told them the truth, they would call me childish and send me to a mental institution. I don't blame them really; imagine your son, who always makes fun of their sibling for believing in the paranormal coming out of his room and out of his permanent browsing position to tell you suddenly believes that something supernatural is going on in the old mansion. Hell, they'd tell me that being sixteen going on to seventeen would require maturity, and that they would only accept this behaviour if it was my younger sister. They would also condemn me for trespassing. I would argue otherwise- no one lived in that house for over seventy years. They would just use this against me as all I've been saying for the last hour was that there was, in fact, someone there, it wouldn't matter if they were alive or dead. The mansion would still be inhabited.

After a long evening of deliberation with myself of the next appropriate steps, I eliminated the entire idea that I would never go back, nor that I would go alone. I thought of the consequences of telling various people about the mansion and, after completely ruling out my parents and my friends, I decided to tell my sister everything I found out just a few days earlier.