The time has come (the Walrus said) to speak of spooky things. To give you a little history about me and my family, The Lodge has been the family house since about 1994. From then until about 2006, it contained my mum, me (popping home from uni for four years of it) and my dad. Since 2006, my sister has lived there with her three kids. Prior to this it was owned by an old lady about whom little is known, and before that it was part of the nun’s estate next door. Before that it was part of the land owned by the Earl of the town, and before that… goodness only knows. Either way, it’s an old house.
When we first moved in it really looked like a bomb had hit it. It was dilapidated – children were afraid to knock there on Halloween for fear of what was inside. We had a camper van at the time so some of the residents had assumed we were squatters to begin with. My dad redid the entire place, adding a big extension on to the kitchen (was was pantry sized) and an extra room. It was proper old – we were ripping off the wallpaper and found an additional door into the kitchen, previously hidden. Nothing exciting, no portal to another world, just a door between the hallway and the kitchen, but the plaster that was coming away contained horse hair and everything. So everyone understands it’s an old house with lots of history, right? Right.
Some more backstory now – since I remember, the house has been haunted. Yep, I’m cutting straight to the chase here – there are dozens of anecdotes I could share, and I probably will in time, but the important thing here is that when everyone’s gone out for the day, the house is not empty. When you think you’re alone, something happens to prove that you most definitely are not. Depending on who you are and what’s going on, the house will either be welcoming or looming.
What we do know is that we have evidence of this ghostery. The form of that evidence… well, you’ll have to stay tuned for that.