Grosvenor Lane Ghost by Jeremy Tyrrell

Author:Jeremy Tyrrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: haunted house, analysis, scientific method, haunting and ghost, residual haunting

The Encounter

We left the kitchen and went back to the stairwell near the parlour.

He took the lead, taking me up the stairs to the first floor, aiming for the room, a bedroom it would appear, positioned above the kitchen. I kept my eyes open all the while, scanning every corner, every nook, every shadow.

To be honest, I had fully expected to find a cheeky face hiding out among the rooms or running down the stairs as we ascended. The fact that we discovered neither was a little disconcerting. However, if the brat was hiding somewhere on the first floor, we should find him. The stairs were the only means of getting up or down, and they creaked and groaned with even the lightest touch of my foot.

I indicated that I wished to speak. The Professor shook his head, sternly. Knowing that I had already tested his patience to its limit, to the point where he was prepared to leave, I accepted his decision and kept mum.

Quickly ducking my head into the two rooms at the head of the stairs, I scouted for any signs of the presence I saw when I first came up to the house. All I found was dust and shadows.

The rooms were void of all furniture except for a couple of chests, a broken chair, a bed-head and what may have been a desk. The rooms I checked had nowhere to hide, so I had to remain content that who I saw was still in one of the rooms yet to be investigated, or, more likely, that he was no longer in the house, having sneaked out the back way when we entered.

If the former, we would most certainly hear and see him should he attempt to move about. If the latter, well, at least he could not contaminate the measurements any more.

11:35 Upstairs Bedroom (Above Kitchen). Professor and myself. No others present. Raining heavily. Thermo -0.6.

We set down the other pieces of equipment and I noted their readings. Finding a place on the floor, resting my back against the wall, I faced the door, keen to see if anything should move about in the shadows without the room. From my vantage point, I could see clearly the railings of the stairs. Unless a body were to noiselessly slither down like a snake, I should see and hear them plainly.

The room in which we set up looked oddly familiar. I had not seen it before, of course, having never been inside the house, or having ever even been in this district of South Entrance. Still, while I sat and watched and waited and listened, I could not help but think that I knew more of this place than I perhaps should.

My mind played around with this thought, forgetting for a second the unease which I had felt up until now.

The Professor seemed unconcerned. It was because he was use to such investigations, I told myself, and that I was just being silly. I watched as he fixed the camera upon a tripod, screwing this bit in here and tightening that bit there.

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