Chapter One
Do you believe in ghosts?
Now believe me it’s absolutely fine to say yes and absolutely fine to say no. After all is there really any proof or not that they are around us? I’ve never seen one and, to tell the truth, I don’t want to see one.
But I do believe they exist.
When people ask if you are scared of anything what do you answer? Could it be bullies, strange adults, insey winsey spiders or slippery slimy snakes? Well I don’t like any of them.
But the scariest of scariest are ghosts.
And before we carry on promise you will keep this a secret and won’t tell a soul (this is an attempt at a joke by the way). I won’t tell anyone your answer.
I am scared to absolute death of them, especially when my mind works overtime if I am alone. Thankfully our house isn’t haunted, we have lived there for years and they have had plenty of opportunity to jump out and frighten me.
Now did you notice I mentioned my house as being “there” and not “here”? Well here’s the rub. I talking to you on a train heading up north to stay with my Aunt, Uncle and three cousins for two whole weeks over Christmas whilst my parents work in Dubai.
Yes! Over the Christmas holidays. I like surprises, and of course presents, but the news I was going for a two week sleepover isn’t exactly the nicest surprise or present I can imagine.
I better explain that I am 11 years of age and have never spent so much time away from my parents or home. So what I hear you say. It happens all the time, just get on with it you big baby. Well I can see your point of view but you just don’t know my cousins. Actually I don’t really know my cousins either. I don’t hate them and certainly don’t think I am scared of them as much as ghosts or even big fat spindly spiders but…in two weeks’ time I might!
And, of course, what happens if their house is haunted? I’m worried about this great unknown. You may think this is one big adventure. Well that’s fine if you are adventurous but I’m not. If I wanted to be then I could simply play something on my console like Warlords of the Universe. Then if I got bored or tired I could turn it off. But I can’t here, sitting on this packed train full of festive travellers coming or going home for Christmas. They all seem to be rather jolly, one man in particular especially with his four cans of lager on the table, now empty. He must be having a very “merry” Christmas.
At least I am not alone.
The train has arrived, everyone is getting off and this is where it hits home. I’m on the platform and walking towards the exit. I only know where the exit is because everyone else is walking the same way. But they all know where they are going and I don’t. Within a few minutes they have all scattered to their cars, other trains and buses. There are others here waiting for trains but for the first time, standing in the massive station terminus, I am and feel alone. The station is lit up and noisy. Outside it is dark and there is rain coming down onto the roof. On one side of the station is the biggest clock I have ever seen. I check its time and my train arrived late. Surely someone is picking me up?
And I stand there for what seems an absolute age, checking the clock every two minutes then counting every second of the minute until fifteen minutes have gone past. I remain standing so to be noticed by who is collecting me but then start doubting that I have arrived at the correct station. I try to remember what the train guard had announced over the tannoy, have we come into another one by mistake? People are now looking at me and some are whispering. An eleven year old boy standing on his own in the middle of a busy train station at 10pm – that’s not right is it? At Christmas and all that too. As I start to get more than a little concerned at my predicament I feel the presence of someone close but standing behind me. They have come to take me away.
“You not be from these parts boy,” roars a man in a strange accent. I need to turn round and face this person but before doing so I check for places to run and friendly people to run to. Two minutes ago a police officer had walked past and satisfied turn extremely slowly and face the man, grabbing my two bags at the same time ready to flee as fast as possible. As I turn the man speaks again, “Boy, do you hear me boy?” But then he starts to laugh in his own voice. It is Uncle Peter and he is laughing out loud at his little joke with me. LOL I think not. I stare moodily at him for a bit but, in fact, am relieved that someone is here to collect me and sigh.
“Sorry I’m late Chris, traffic’s a nightmare at this time with all the Christmas parties and the like. It’s taken me a good 40 minutes to get here,” and he motions for me to let go of the bags so he can carry them.
We do a bit of small talk, grown up style, as he leads me to his car. The cold air and a little rain reaches down upon us and I am glad to get in and feel warmth. We leave the bright lights of the station and the city, proceed through a tunnel, out the other side and then into the darkness of the countryside.