A House in the Country: A Tale of Psychological Horror Read online

  * * * * *

  Dean and Jess were walking through a small wooded area just behind the house. The pair of them holding hands as though they didn’t have a care in the world. The two girls running ahead of them, laughing and smiling. A picture perfect happy family out enjoying the early morning hazy sunshine. On the surface at least. Dean and Jess were both aware the other had been silent for a while now; both aware they were lost in their own thoughts.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Jess was the first to break the silence between the two. She was looking back at their house not too far in the distance, the fields around it - lush green grass (some patches in need of a cut already) and tall, tall trees which seemingly reached to the few white clouds above.

  Dean followed her gaze and nodded, “That it is.” He turned around to her and smiled, “And it’s ours.” To his surprise, Jess didn’t smile back at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He already knew. She was thinking about the room. In particular she was thinking about what had happened in the room; the lonely wife who’d taken her own life.

  “Do you think we’ve made a mistake?” she asked, after a couple of seconds hesitation.

  “A mistake?”

  “Moving here. Do you think it was a mistake.” She was looking back towards the house. Dean paid more attention to her eyes. She was looking at the back upstairs window; the spare room.

  “Turn around,” he told her. “Look.” He pointed towards the girls who were picking wild flowers just beyond a row of trees. Both of them were smiling. “See that? That’s the start of happy memories in our new family home…Do I think we made a mistake? No. Not a chance. I think we made the best decision of recent years and we need to forget about what happened in that house, just as we spoke about the other night and just as we talked about before we even put in an offer. If we keep dwelling on the past - their past - it will drag us down. Don’t know about you but I don’t want that. Do you?”

  Jess shook her head. “I’m just having trouble settling in,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “It will become easier - especially when all the moving boxes are disposed of.” He gave her a reassuring smile, “Trust me - it will be good. No. It will be great.” He pulled her close and gave her a hug.

  The sound of Sophie approaching made them pull apart. They half expected her to join in but she didn’t. She pointed back to the house. “Who’s that?” she asked. Her mum and dad turned back to the house quickly, in the direction Sophie was pointing.

  “Who?” Dean asked. He was scanning the back of the house but couldn’t see anything.

  “They were in the window,” Sophie said, “but they’ve gone now.”

  Dean called Caroline over from the wild flowers she was still picking from, “Caroline, come on, we’re going home now!” She went to say something in protest but Dean had already turned his back and started to hastily walk back to the house. The girls followed - although Jess purposefully hung back a little; not because she was scared (although a part of her was) at the prospect of someone being the house but more so because she wanted to protect her children from whoever it could have been.

  “Wait here,” Dean told his ladies when he got to the back door. He stepped in, purposefully leaving the door open, “I’ll go and take a look around.” As he walked past the kitchen work-top he grabbed a knife from the draining board and took it with him. He hadn’t seen anyone in the house, only Sophie had, but that didn’t mean he did not want to be prepared for bumping into a possible intruder.

  “Why do we have to wait here?” Sophie asked her mother.

  “Because your father asked you to,” was the easiest answer for Jess. The girls rarely argued with their father. In part this annoyed Jess a little as they tended to be argumentative with her but, flip side of the coin, it meant she was able to turn around and use the threat of telling their father if they were up to no good. It certainly tended to do the job of keeping them in line.

  “I need the loo,” Caroline whined. She didn’t need the toilet, Jess knew this, she just didn’t want to stand around outside when she believed something far more exciting was happening in the house. Had Jess let her go in, to use the bathroom, Caroline would have run straight past it and headed to her dad.

  “Well you’ll have to wait a minute,” Jess told her. Her voice clearly told both daughters that she wasn’t in the mood for any nonsense. Caroline tutted but - other than that - didn’t say anything.

  After what seemed like an eternity Dean re-appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Jess watched as he walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. He put the knife back on the side and shrugged - a sign to Jess that the house was empty. She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief though. The fact of the matter remained that someone had hanged themselves in the property and, on two occasions now, Sophie had thought she’d seen someone that shouldn’t have been there.

  Night Three

  Jess and Dean were lying in bed together. The room was illuminated by two lamps on the bedside cabinets which sat either side of the bed. Neither of them had been able to sleep despite their obvious exhaustion; both of them pre-occupied with thoughts of the house and their youngest daughter.

  “I’m worried about Sophie,” Jess said, “I think we need to take her to a specialist.” It hadn’t been the first time they had discussed the prospect of taking her to see someone. Dean had admitted it would be a good idea, once they were settled into the new home, to try and find her some help with regards to the dreams she was having. Now Sophie was seeing things when she was awake, Dean felt the same as Jess; waiting may no longer be an option. Especially given the things she was supposedly seeing was fuelling the paranoia both parents were feeling about living in a property where someone had taken their own life for whatever reason. Jess was aware Dean hadn’t responded to her so asked him directly, “What do you think?”

  He hesitated - not because he didn’t agree but because he felt as though he was failing his youngest daughter. If she was having issues, whether they be bad dreams or the belief she was seeing things, as her father he felt he should have been able to make things better for her. He should have been able to fix her. “I think we might need to,” he reluctantly agreed. It would have been easier to ignore it had Caroline, or even Jess and Dean, seen a figure in the house too but they hadn’t. It was only ever Sophie and that, on top of the bad dreams she regularly had, suggested she clearly needed a little help. Jess felt relieved. She thought he’d have been too proud to go along with it. Too afraid to put his hand up and admit he (they) needed help. “The Internet is being set up in a couple of days,” he continued, “we can search around for someone as soon as it’s plugged in.”

  Jess started to cry. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. I’m being stupid. Just tired.”

  “It’s fine.” Dean moved over and pulled Jess towards him. He held her tightly against his body. “Give it a few months and we’ll both look back at this and laugh.” Jess didn’t reply. She snuggled in close to her husband. Dean was glad she moved closer to him as it helped to hide his face; the doubtful expression. He wanted everything to be okay and - deep down - he was sure that would be the case. At the moment he was struggling to see the light. They both fell into a comfortable silence as their brains continued to work scenarios through whilst they waited for sleep to take hold of them.

  * * * * *

  3:30am

  Caroline stirred from her sleep and jumped when she opened her eyes and saw Sophie standing at the foot of her bed, “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I can’t sleep,” she moaned. “Can I come in with you?”

  “What? No. Go away.”

  “Please! I’m scared!”

  “Go away!” Caroline hissed. Sophie didn’t move. She was standing there - a look on her face which gave all signs that she was about to cry. Caroline realised she wasn’t going anywhere and sat up, “Go back to your room.”

  “I want to sleep in your bed!”

  “There’s no room! Go away!�
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  “Please?”

  “No!”

  Sophie reluctantly walked from the bedroom before her sister started shouting at her. She didn’t go back to her own room though. She just stopped there, outside her sister’s bedroom door, staring ahead towards the other end of the landing; towards the spare bedroom’s door in particular.

  “Leave me alone,” a voice hissed at her from within the darkened room. Slowly, the door closed. Sophie ran back to her own bedroom and dove underneath the covers.

  Day Four

  Dean dressed himself after his warm shower and left the bedroom. Immediately he noticed Jess across the landing in Sophie’s bedroom. She was ripping the sheets from her bed. Sophie was standing nearby - a sheepish look on her face. When Dean walked into the room he noticed Sophie had been crying. Jess looked angry.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We had a little accident during the night,” Jess said. Dean looked at Sophie who - in turn - did all she could to avoid his gaze. “Didn’t we?” Jess turned to Sophie. Again, Sophie avoided her eye line.

  “What happened?” Dean asked Sophie directly. She hadn’t had an accident for as long as he could remember - certainly more than a few years anyway. Sophie didn’t look at him; still too embarrassed. “Hey!” he gave her a playful nudge. He wasn’t angry that she’d wet the bed (unlike Jess apparently), after all accidents happen. “What happened?” he asked her again when she finally looked at him.

  Jess butted in, “She got scared during the night and didn’t want to get out of bed.” Jess threw the last of the sheets onto the pile on the floor.

  “You were scared?” Dean asked. “What were you scared of?”

  “I had a bad dream,” Sophie lied. Sophie was a sensitive girl and could pick up on moods in the house. The mood she’d recently picked up on was one of stress and frustration from her parents and she felt that she’d only be making it worse if she told them she didn’t like the house; how the house scared her.

  “Another one?” Dean asked. “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” Sophie said.

  “Okay, that’s okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. That’s fine.” Dean turned to Jess as she scooped up the dirty laundry. “Where’s Caroline?”

  “Well she’s in her room,” Jess hissed as she walked out of the room and started down the stairs.

  Dean frowned and followed her (to the top of the stairs at least). “Why did you say it like that?” he asked. “What’s she done?”

  “Your youngest daughter went into Caroline’s room during the night because she was scared and your eldest daughter turned her away.” Jess disappeared down the hallway and towards the kitchen.

  Dean sighed. It was always ‘his’ daughter when one of them had done something wrong. When they were good - it was ‘their’ daughter. Something bad - ‘his’ daughter. He turned back to Sophie who was still standing next to her stripped bed looking sorry for herself. “What was your dream about last night?” Dean pressed her once more.

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” Sophie repeated herself.

  Dean nodded, “Okay. Well. Not sure if I ever told you this but - did you know dreams often work in reverse; so you think something bad is going to happen but - in reality - something good actually happens.” Sophie looked at him as though she knew he was lying. Truth be told, Dean didn’t know if he was lying or not. It was something his mother had told him when he was growing up; not that he had many bad dreams as a youngster. “As for the bed,” he changed the subject before she questioned his logic, “don’t be embarrassed. At least you just had an accident. Remember what I told you? I actually went to the toilet in a cupboard by mistake! That was something to be embarrassed about.”

  Sophie laughed.

  “Right - get dressed - you can help me in the spare room today,” Dean gave Sophie a pat on the head and turned back to the door.

  “No!” Sophie screamed out.

  Dean turned back to her - shocked by her outburst, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t want to go in there!” she started to cry. “We’re not allowed in there!” she shouted. Dean closed the bedroom door so they wouldn’t be interrupted by Jess, or Caroline if she dared leave her own room.

  “Who said you aren’t allowed in there?” Dean asked. He knelt down so he was level with Sophie. “Your sister?” Sophie shook her head. “Then who?” He realised Sophie wasn’t going to tell him. “This is your house,” he said, “and there are no rooms which are off limits to you or your sister. Come on,” he took her hand, “come with me.” He walked with her out of the bedroom and towards the spare room. Sophie pulled herself from his grip and ran back towards the door of her own room. Dean just stood there a moment, confused by her reaction. “Sophie - really, it’s fine…Look!” he turned back to the spare room and opened the door. The first thing that hit him was the smell in the room. The second was that - once again - various boxes had been unpacked and their contents spread across the floor. “What the hell?” A door slammed behind him and made him jump. He turned around and saw Sophie had hidden in her room again, closing the door behind her. He looked back to the mess in the spare room (one of the last rooms to unpack) and wondered whether she had taken everything from the box. She knew she had been naughty (because of the mess) and then had the accident during the night whilst she lay awake fretting about it, instead of actually putting the stuff back where she originally found it. Certainly a better thought than thinking she was too scared to go to the bathroom and so wet herself. And most definitely a better thought than the belief the house was being haunted by a lonely woman. He walked into the bedroom to see what had been moved this time and noticed the window had - again - been shut. Makes sense, if it was her moving all these bits and pieces around, it’s a fair assumption to say she could have been cold, what with it being the middle of the night (or later). He reached across and opened the window once more.

  “What’s all the commotion?” on edge, the sound of Jess’ voice made Dean jump. He turned to her and noticed she was standing in the doorway. She had heard the slamming of the door.

  Dean pointed towards the mess, “This. I think I know why our daughter was scared to go to the bathroom last night. I reckon she was up, rooting around in here, and then started to worry what we’d say when we woke up.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Jess said.

  “Do you have another suggestion as to how these things got emptied onto the floor and the window closed then?” Dean asked.

  “Maybe…”

  “Don’t say it.” He knew what she was going to suggest; perhaps the window was closed, and boxes emptied, by a wandering spirit.

  “It would make sense! Sophie thought she saw someone in the house, woke up the other night to the sight of someone, it’s not the first time the boxes have been emptied in here and we already know that someone hung themselves in this very room!”

  “Okay - yes - we know someone killed themselves but, come on, a ghost? Have you heard yourself? And putting that to one side - the common denominator in everything you just said is ‘Sophie’. Sophie saw this, Sophie saw that…I think she is going through a difficult time at the moment and she needs help. Professional help that we’re unable to offer her.”

  “And what if they say she is fine? What then? Will you even consider the possibility that there could be something left behind in this house?”

  Dean didn’t answer her immediately. He didn’t know what to say. If the girls hadn’t emptied the boxes - and it wasn’t Jess or him - it didn’t really leave a lot of other scenarios to explain it as much as he hated the thought of something more sinister. “I’m going to finish this room today. And when I go to town to pick up a decent ladder, I’m going to buy a load of plug-in air fresheners. By the end of the week - latest - what happened in this room will be nothing but a distant memory and even that will come to fade.” He started picking their scattered belongings u
p before dropping them back into the boxes (in no particular order). Jess stood there a moment without knowing what to do or say for the best. She could see Dean was getting stressed with the whole situation; his tormented daughter, and what had happened in the room.

  “I’m sorry,” she said eventually, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Dean stopped what he was doing and straightened his back. He turned back to his wife and forced a smile, “I’m not angry with you I just wanted everything to go smoothly. This was supposed to be a great step for our family, the start of more adventures together and instead it’s…Well…It’s shit, isn’t it? Our daughter could be nuts…”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “…And if she isn’t nuts then we’re most likely getting haunted by a fucking ghost. I’m not being funny but neither scenario is exactly an example of what one would call smooth running.” He felt himself getting worked up again and stopped. He took a few deep breaths, “Shit.”

  It was Jess’ turn to reassure him. She didn’t think anything was going smoothly at all, in fact she wished the sale had fallen through and they’d been forced to look elsewhere for their new home but - seeing Dean’s level of stress - she knew she couldn’t agree with him or else it would just keep escalating and, from there, it wouldn’t be long before they’d both be shouting at each other. “It’ll be fine,” she told him. “You said as soon as the Internet is installed we can start looking for some help for Sophie. And last night, I’m sure the bed wetting was just a one off. It was an accident. These things happen from time to time. She just needs time to adjust to the new environment. It’s strange for adults. Imagine what it is like for children! And - as you said again - once this room has been set up into how we want it…The memories of what happened here will fade.” She walked over to him and put her arms around him. It took a couple of seconds until he gave in and put his arms around her too. “As you said - it’ll be good here. A nice family home.” She smiled at Dean, hoping her words had made him feel a little better about the situation. He smiled back but each passing day, the more they experienced strange things, the less he believed the words she had said (and the words he’d previously said too).