Lady In The Mansion

• Divyani Chhibbar, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2015

Bartholomew Mansion was an out-dated and isolated property in the coastal area of Kent, England. I was sent there to recover the lost will of George Bartholomew, a descendent of the Bartholomew blood line. What I found there was not the will but I experienced the most horrific and chilling encounter of the supernatural. From London, I took a train straight to Kent only to get an unusual welcome by the stationmaster, “I would leave on the next train sir if I was you, before it’s too late” he said but I was determined to accomplish my duty in order to save my job. At arriving on the doorsteps of the Mansion I felt a sense of eeriness about the estate. Inside, it was damp and gloomy with mildew growing on the darkened wallpapers. I lit a candle to view my surroundings and began my adventure, exploring the upstairs of the mansion. Sensational cold shivers rushed down my spine as my candle flickered in the obscure and partially illuminated hallway of Bartholomew Mansion. All was silent as destiny awaited for the anarchy to arise. My heart throbbed, struggling to tear away from my skin and free itself from my body. Suddenly I turned around as I sensed that I wasn’t alone. There stood the ghostly figure of a young lady dressed completely in black as if for mourning. Her face pale as if painted white. The air around her was cold. I shifted my candle towards her to suddenly witness her eyes starting to bleed a dark and luscious red of blood and without warning she let out a high pitched shriek that made me plunge towards the damp carpeted floor. In doing this I had dropped my candle and by the time I had regained it in my original position of the hand and franticly swished it around, the young lady’s figure had disappeared and the atmosphere returned to silence. I continued my lonely journey towards a door located at the end of the hallway. I was barely a metre away from this door when unexpectedly its rusted gold knob started rattling violently. Too traumatized to open the door, I took off and dashed downstairs only to be encountered by the young lady. This time I was the one to let out an embarrassing high pitched shriek. My shriek beckoned her to fade away in the form of a dark mist. I was left completely alone now; allowed to ponder on with my business but something kept me from my task. The ‘something’ was rather a question of who the young woman in black was? Not willing to do anything further I decided to pack my belongings and do as advised when first arriving, to take the next train and leave, for surely I wasn’t going to risk my life over my job. Nevertheless, to this day no one has been able to safely retrieve George Bartholomew’s will. Maybe because they had encountered the lady in the mansion.