Free A Cry From Beyond by WR Armstrong

you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
    I managed
to force a smile. “I’m okay.” We turned to face the others. H
stared morosely at the floor while Rick and Irish looked at us
expectantly. As for Terry, he announced he was going to lie down
for a while.
    “Use the
guest room,” I instructed. “It’s on the right as you hit the lower
landing.”
    “Well,” I
said to the others once he’d gone, “are we all game?”
    Everyone
nodded.
    Irish
said, “Let’s do it.”
    We left
the attic room and descended the two flights of creaking stairs
into the dimly lit hall. In silence we struggled into our topcoats
knowing it would be freezing cold outside. I grabbed the torch out
of the kitchen, and in dismal silence we left the house heading for
the derelict crofter’s cottage, leaving Terry behind with
Lennon.
    There was
no moon that night, making it as dark as hell. One solitary car
passed by as we reached the roadside. We watched it disappear
around the bend as if we thought its presence was somehow
significant. Then we crossed the deserted road. Pausing briefly on
the other side, I turned to the others and said, “I’ll ask the
question again: are we all up for this?”
    “I don’t
see we have any choice,” Rick said.
    David was
reflective. “I agree. If there’s the remotest chance she’s in there
we have a duty to investigate.”
    “Then
what the fuck are we waiting for?” It was Irish.
    We looked
towards the dark uninviting derelict shell that was once a
crofter’s cottage, home to a family fated to losing their son in a
terrible road accident, and then we trudged up the weed infested
path to the front door. Only there was no front door. As some point
in time it’d been ripped from its hinges, and now lay flat against
the ground, alongside the security grille that had protected it,
making access a simple affair. The downstairs windows were boarded
while those on the upper level were left unprotected: the glass
panes broken and jagged edged.
    We
wandered inside to be greeted by thick depressing darkness, and an
atmosphere that reeked of neglect and decay. I played the torch’s
yellow tinged beam along a dirty wooden floor, and badly damaged
plaster and lathe walls. The room was small and cramped. It was
also entirely empty. I tried to imagine what it was like as a home
but it was difficult. The passing of time combined with dereliction
had reduced this house to a characterless husk. It reminded me
morbidly of a forgotten grave. Quite suddenly, and for no apparent
reason, I spun, directing the torchlight at the open door way, and
to my amazement saw a number of large birds congregating on the
path outside. David saw them too. We glanced at each other,
mystified by their unannounced appearance, and then, as suddenly as
they’d arrived, they departed, flying off into the night en
masse.
    “What the
hell was that about?” I said, thinking aloud. “It’s as if they’d
come along to see what we were up to.”
    “Well, at
least they weren’t bats,” David said trying to make light of
it.
    “Bats I
would’ve preferred,” I replied in all seriousness. “At least
they’re nocturnal and wouldn’t be out of place.”
    “Where
are the others?” David asked, changing the subject.
    “Taking a
look around upstairs I think.”
    We
crossed the room to an open doorway, the other side of which a
narrow flight of stairs ascended steeply. From above, I could hear
footfalls sounding upon floorboards, combined with that of muffled
voices. We climbed the stairs. On the landing we were greeted by
Irish, whose rugged features were illuminated spectrally by the
flame from the lighter he held in front of him.
    “There’s
nothing up here but cobwebs and bad fucking air,” he announced
sullenly.
    The news
was welcome. After all, we’d gone there afraid we would discover a
corpse. Relieved, we trooped back to the cottage, but the relief
was short lived. We returned to find the place in total darkness
with Lennon in an