Other People’s Houses: The Creepy House
House exterior. Photo by Georgina Bruce.
The house goes back to the fifteenth century, one way or another. A bit added here, a bit taken away there. The truth is, most of it burned down in the 1950s and it had to be rebuilt from scratch. But somehow it’s patched together in a way that looks kind of authentic. It’s not really so old. It’s faux old.
The wood panelling in the hallway actually does go back to the fifteenth century. That’s because it was stolen from a nearby abbey and installed over here. So if there’s any part of the house that’s haunted, it’s the hallway. All those monks looking for their walls.
For a while, the house was split down the middle into two separate apartments. In one half of the house, the story goes, a man imprisoned his wife for many years. That’s why it feels a bit strange on that side of the house. Her sadness seeped into the walls there. Or maybe it’s the monks. Hard to tell. They say trouble has hung around this house ever since the monk’s panelling was put in.
No, it’s not haunted. It’s just decorated in order to give the impression that it is. Dark wood, lots of antiques, dusty peacock feathers in vases. Definitely no ghosts. If there’s a strange atmosphere it’s probably because there’s been some tension lately, on account of the allegations. Rumours, really. But you shouldn’t pay any attention to anything you hear around town. Nothing bad happened here. The charges were all dropped.
The portrait in the hallway is given pride of place because it’s just so imposing. His eyes follow you. In a house like this, you need someone watching over you. Rumour has it that the painting’s haunted, but of course that’s just silly. Those horrible thoughts you’ve been having since you’ve been here have nothing to do with his eyes beaming evil into your mind. Well, yes, you could fall over that balcony to your death, quite easily. Or you could be pushed. You could trip on something, the dog’s blanket, maybe, and tumble right over. But that’s the whole point of a balcony like that, isn’t it? To remind you that rich people don’t care if you die.
Portrait in the house. Photo by Georgina Bruce.
That piano hasn’t been played in a while. Okay, never. It’s never been played. If you lift the lid and strike a key, a discordant note will ring out around the hall and hang in the air suspensefully. I suppose it is a little like a horror movie, now you come to mention it. What with the portrait, and the out-of-tune piano, and the ghosts. Only joking! There are no ghosts.
The chandelier is crystal. Not real crystal, of course. Once in a while the cleaner gets sent up to dust it off and replace the bulbs. It doesn’t exactly match the vibe, but then again, everything is vibing away on its own here, really. Lots of gold fittings, of course, because that’s very classy. Touch of Art Deco mixed with the Mediaeval beams and the Victorian piano. The only pictures on the wall are portraits of people unrelated to the family, and oil paintings of unknown provenance.
Details of the house. Photos by Georgina Bruce.
There are roses, carnations, and long-stemmed lilies in every room; their smell reminds people of death. Don’t worry. When they droop and fade in the stale water, the cleaners will throw them out and replace them. The cleaners come twice a week, and the gardener comes on a Friday. Really, don’t listen to anything the gardener tells you about the house. It’s all a lot of silly nonsense and gossip, nothing was ever proven.
At the top of the house, there’s a set of small rooms, each of them stuffed to the gills with books about the occult, Tarot decks, crystals, doll houses, angel ornaments, general witching paraphernalia. You can go in there as much as you like. But that last door at the end of the hallway must stay locked at all times. You’re probably going to think a lot about what’s behind that door. It’s best to put it out of your mind altogether. There’s really no such thing as ghosts.
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