Carridelle – Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: The Hauntings

It was near sunset when Carrie finally finished swimming and dried off. As she gathered up her beach supplies, she glanced up at the house, wanting again to admire its magnificent architecture. She took in every detail and thought it felt like… well it felt like home. It was a crazy thought. There was no way Jon would ever move down here and yet she found herself wondering what it would cost to buy this beautiful place with all its charm and all of its ghosts. Ghosts? Why did she even think that? It was at that time that she realized while she was staring at that house, the vision of the young woman looking out at her from the Widow’s Walk had just been there again.  She did not feel any fear though. If anything, she felt more drawn to the house and the mysteries it held. She felt drawn to this young woman and she could not say why that was. She felt as though the girl was calling to her for help. Carrie was not afraid at all, and she firmly set her resolve to stay in the house and explore the history and embrace its shortcomings.

As she laid down for bed that night, Carrie fell into a deep sleep. A day of sunshine and swimming had left her on the verge of exhaustion. Never one to wake easily, Carrie was startled when she felt a cool breeze wash over her. She sat up suddenly, her eyes taking moments to adjust to the darkness. The window to the Widow’s Walk was open. She thought for a moment, and though the fuzziness of sleep still washed over her, remembered closing that door and locking it before retiring for the evening. It was strange, but then somewhere in the corner of her mind she imagined the girl in the window and drifted back to sleep feeling comforted and not the least bit afraid. She would not wake again until the rumblings began.

It was well near four in the morning when the first noise occurred and at first Carrie incorporated the sound into her dreams, the way one does the ringing of a telephone or the first arrogant reverberations of an alarm clock. The sounds became more urgent, more demanding, a creak here, a moan there. She woke startled, a cold sweat washing over her as she once again sat up in her bed and let her senses come alive. She listened closely, her eyes on the brink of tears; intent on hearing the noises again. With a little bit of patience, she was rewarded. Somewhere from the darkness of her room a cry was heard, a soft whisper of tears.  Then, as she listened more closely, the sounds of footsteps in the hall, a light tread, one of a woman. A door opening, creaking resonated through the lonely house. A child’s wail small and frightened, and then a mother’s calming hum, and the calming creaking motion of a rocking chair. The noises ceased.

Carrie was not frightened by the noises but intrigued. She laughed nervously. She thought of calling Jon and sharing this with him, even at four in the morning. But then she realized, his astute mind, his mathematical composure would not lend itself to such flights of fancy.  Lea would have been scared out of her wits. Her parents were not yet home, though her dad would have indulged her with his fascination. She thought of Charlie for some reason then, thinking that the stranger might perhaps enjoy this. Was he a kindred spirit? One who would enjoy the hunt of a ghost tale as much as Carrie herself did?  Carrie shook her head, shocked at her own thoughts of sharing anything with a man who was a total stranger to her. She was too tired to ponder the ramblings of her mind and laid her tousled mane back down upon the pillow, straining to hear another sound. Sighing with contentment that she was in the middle of her very own adventure, she fell back to sleep. The rumbling of something in the attic was but a faint whisper in her subconscious memory.