On the Third Night by Marc Everitt

Author:Marc Everitt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ghost, haunted house, haunting, poltergeist, crossing over, the other side, dimensions, parallel universe, horror, apparitions, sci-fi, portal, other world
ISBN: 9781785385827
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2016
Published: 2016-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

She slowly turned, feeling her skin crawl as if trying to get off her bones and find someone else to wrap itself around, and there was the boy. The same boy, she was sure of that. Wearing the same old-fashioned clothes that she had seen him wearing when he was in the lounge with Chloe, the young boy was standing looking at her with the same vacant expression as the man outside her window had been wearing. His dark hair was messy and needed a comb running through it and his skin was grey and pallid. She was once again reminded of a sepia tinged photograph from the early days of photography.

The boy was dressed smartly although the buttons on his waistcoat were not in the right holes, telling her that he had fastened them himself but that he wasn’t too concerned how well he had done the job. He had a tatty black necktie loosely tied around his collar, but one which put her in mind of a previous age and she had no doubt whatsoever that this was the ghost of a long dead child. Not long dead like her own little boy, who had been in ground for what seemed to her to be more years than he had been alive, but more likely this was the spirit of a boy who had met his fate a century ago or perhaps longer. Why he was here in her daughter’s bedroom and what he wanted from her family she did not know.

The boy was looking right at her and she suddenly noticed that he now had signs of life in his face, signs that he could see her rather than that he was looking right through her. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something to her, and it was suddenly of immense importance that she know what it was, but when his lips moved she could hear no sound as if she were seeing him through a pane of thick glass. As she watched on in fascination, she started to see the boy getting frustrated and his forehead creasing under his shabby dark hair as he tried to make himself heard.

After a moment of this, she thought she could hear the sound of a distant monologue where the stage was at an impossible distance from the audience. Not words that she could distinguish but sounding more and more like they might become eventually become understandable, and Lucy found herself almost physically pulled forward to the boy so as to hear him better. His young face, still grey and pallid but now looking angry and frustrated, contorted in a way she was familiar with from tantrums her own children would have thrown her way in years gone by.

As she looked on at him, the boy was suddenly not there. One second he was yelling silently at her and the next, the space in which he was standing was empty and not only of his presence but also of anything at all.

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