The Richmond Haunting (COMPLETED)

Chapter 14

At three in the morning, Steven woke up — somebody had jerked his leg. It wasn't Fiona. She was fast asleep on his back. Still, he had felt somebody's hand coiled around his ankle. It startled him, and he sat up.

Outside in the hallway, he could hear somebody walking around, speaking to himself. It frightened him.

'Give it a minute, and it will go away.' But that was fantasy.

As of late, this was the main theme around the house, the old man, walking around at night.

Did he never sleep? No, he was up all day and banging all night.

Sometimes the noises would be mild, creeping on the staircase, the living room door closing, somebody turning the bathroom lights on, using the toilet. That was on a good night. On other nights, they were more unsettling. A woman could be heard pleading for somebody to stop, and a man's voice would jump in. Angry and raging.

'I teach you to behave, you fucking whore; I teach you to be good.'

And something would suddenly crack. The air became filled with a violent whooshing sound, repeating over and over again.

'No, please stop, I'll be good, I'll be good.'

Other times, it would be a baby crying, fingers tapping on the bedroom window. Voices, speaking.

Here — at the moment, there was only the old man walking around, and Steven hoped he would go away.

He did eventually, and Steven looked at his mobile phone. It was ten minutes past three.

'Jesus, I'm so tired.'

What he wouldn't give for a good night's sleep — his right arm — if that was the case.

He couldn't remember the last time; he had a goodnight's sleep.

Was it a week, a month? Longer. He was too tired to come up with the answer. He just knew the ghost issue had to stop.

Not for his sake — but for the person sleeping next to him, the girls next door. 'Please, let it end.'

How much he wanted that to happen. For his family to feel safe again. Secure, but the old man living in his house wasn't going anywhere.

Why, only last night, Fiona had seen that old man pissing in the corner of the bedroom like somebody taking a slash in a bush.

And the old man, according to Fiona, had looked over his shoulder. His movement - slow, deliberate, the neck creaking, a hideous grin curled on his lips.

Fiona had fled from the room. Telling Steven what she had seen, and Steven had gone upstairs to investigate, seeing the damp patch on the carpet. Piss vomit from the old man.

Hard to forget — and Steven still sat up — noticed the window was wide open and a cold breeze swaying into the room.

Getting out of bed, he closed the window and hurried back into bed. There he tried to warm himself up - but he still felt a draught.

'Where is that coming from?'

With the house safer to explore, Steven threw the bedsheets away from himself, got out of bed, and went searching for the cold air.

Out in the hallway, it didn't take long to know why there was a chill — lurking around. The window there was opened as well. An unpleasant chill seeping in.

'Jesus Christ.' He spoke under his breath, shivering, blowing warm air into his cup hands.

Closing the window, he glanced over his shoulder and saw at the bottom of the staircase - the front door open as well.