The Forgotten - Chapter 3

  My hands rest upon the cold knocker. I raise my eyes to meet the icy ones of lion's head on top of the iron knocker. They seemed so alive and real, I could almost feel it's hatred penetrate into my heart. Then  they returned to normal. I didn't move for a few moments. I sighed and tried to relax. I lifted the heavy knocker and firmly landed it down on to the rotting door. It made a loud, booming sound, which echoed in my ears. I closed my eyes until could no longer hear the menacing sound in my head. I lifted the knocker again and let it down slowly, for three times.

The door swung open, letting out  creak. My hands quivering, I touched the door and gently ran my hands over the rotten wood. Why was I caressing the house?  I tore a bit of wood off the corner of the door.
Suddenly I felt pushed in the house by a strong paranormal force. I rolled on the floor and abruptly twisted on the side. Weakly, I sat up, rubbing my ribs. The door slammed shut, letting out a cloud of dust and bits of wood.
I stood up and looked around me, noticing every detail. Trying to get used to the unbearable musty smell, I walked slowly around the hall, keenly observing the old furniture. Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust. I stopped infront of a chest of drawers. It was an obvious fact that it had been well taken care of in earlier days. It was in superb condition - except that it was dirty.  I ran my hands gently over the smooth surface of the furniture, brushing off the specs of dust. I felt a strange feeling. I felt I was to take good care of everything in the house. I brushed off the rest of the lint and slowly moved on.
I felt a certain sadness creep through me. It had grown very chilly in the house. Suddenly, I heard a noise. I stiffened and listened intently.
Muffled footsteps.
I turned to face the directions of the sound - the stairs. The old steps of the stairs had been lovingly covered with once rich, luxurious carpet. All that remained was rotting, filthy bits of the once decorative floor covering.
The footsteps ceased for a moment, then continued. I could easily see the matting get squashed underneath the weight of the invisible person. The spectre walked to the exact middle of the hall, were now I could see a slight, white mist. The mist vanished and the floorboards were suddenly filled with blood stains.
Petrified, I stared at the terrible mess. The blood stains faded away before my very eyes. I ran to the door and I saw a homely face looking at me through the wood. I screamed, tears rolled down my cheeks. In panic, I rushed up the stairs, frigtened out of my wits. Well, almost. I could still reason.
I sat down on the floor of what had been once a very grand living room, I deduced. The room consisted of three large windows, draped with heavy material, a fireplace, a large sofa which must have been a rich dark red in colour when bought, a rocking chair, a small table and a few pictures, darkened with time. I buried my head into my arms and closed my eyes.
There was a sudden silence. I kept my eyes closed, absorbed in thought. I wanted to think - to figure out a way how to get out of the cursed house. The rocking chair moved slightly and creaked, but I took no notice. I didn't even raise my eyes when the curtains were pulled open and the windows were slammed open and shut continuosly.

Those were little things, which didn't matter to me at that moment. I shut my eyes tightly as I felt myself get colder than ever, and the weird noises in the living room sounded louder - and more sinister. I ignored all the ghostly activity except when.....

....a cold clammy hand rested on my shoulder....