The Nightmare House
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A retired paranormal investigator accepts a challenge to stay in a haunted house for one night. Will he manage to survive the night in this house of nightmares?
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The Nightmare House - Ramsey Hudson
Copyright
© Copyright 2022 Ramsey Hudson
All Rights Reserved
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
Is this the office of John Anderson, the famous debunker of all matters paranormal?
The man asking the question was impeccably dressed in an anachronistic blue suit. He was silver-haired and slender and did not offer a handshake as both of his hands were clutched tightly around a small black briefcase.
You got the first part right,
replied Anderson. I'm not too sure about famous debunker of the paranormal. I think you might be barking up the wrong tree there.
Anderson was much younger than his visitor and casually dressed in a black t-shirt. He had been in the middle of writing a tedious article concerning another hike in local train fares when this gentlemen had walked into his office with no warning. Anderson was beginning to feel like that was all he did sometimes. He seemed to be forever writing the same dull local transport article.
May I sit down?
asked the silver-haired gentleman.
Of course. If you want. What can I do for you?
My name is Mr Edwards. Does that name mean anything to you?
No,
said Anderson. I don't think so. Is there any particular reason it should?
Do you know of Sleepford Hall?
I'm pretty new to this area Mr Edwards. I can barely remember where my own flat is.
Of course. Forgive me. Sleepford Hall is a mansion located several miles outside of town. It is one of the oldest houses in the county.
I'm sure that's all very interesting Mr Edwards but what does any of this have to do with me?
I am offering you a story Mr Anderson.
Well, I'm sort of in the middle of a story at the moment Mr Edwards. You could try someone else in the office.
Surely you don't want to spend the rest of your life writing about transport and local politics?
It's hardly exciting, I'll grant you that Mr Edwards, but it pays the bills.
Don't you yearn for something more exciting to write about?
Like what?
How about a haunted house?
Anderson sat back in his chair and rubbed his face. Did someone put you up to this? Is this an office prank? I knew someone would find out about that stupid book in the end.
Do I look like the sort of person who indulges in... pranks? I'm deadly serious Mr Anderson.
I don't write about that stuff anymore Mr Edwards. I have no interest in anything like that. The answer is no.
May I ask why?
Because it's all absolute nonsense. I wrote two books debunking mysteries. The first one didn't sell very well and no one wanted to publish the second. I wouldn't be sitting here otherwise would I? Then I had that stupid fake psychic slagging me off. Then some UFO nut started sending me hate mail. Then the publisher suddenly axed plans to publish the second book after I'd spent four months writing it. I'd had enough. I decided to get out while I was ahead... or behind in this case. I have no interest in the mysteries racket anymore Mr Edwards. To tell the truth, I never did. Ghosts do not exist. There are no haunted houses. Writing articles about the local news in this humdrum little town might be boring but it's a regular wage and a quiet life. That suits me fine.
What about the reward?
Reward?
The reward Mr Anderson. You were on television. You said you would pay one million pounds to anyone who proved the existence of ghosts.
Anderson began to laugh. I was on a regional magazine programme for three minutes over eight years ago! That was my solitary appearance on television. It was a through the night show. You know what that means? It means it was broadcast at two in the morning. My publisher somehow got me on the show to talk about ghosts. They thought it would be good promotion for my book. You can guess how that worked out. I was promoting my book on a show watched by ten insomiacs and some drunken students. I was so nervous I forgot to mention the book anyway.
But you did say you were so sure that ghosts do not exist you would pay a million pounds to anyone who proved otherwise.
Do I look like someone with a million pounds? That was just something I made up. I'd never have to pay up anyway - even if I did have a million pounds.
Oh, why is that?
Because ghosts don't exist.
You are sure of that?
Put it this way Mr Edwards, everyone is now equipped with a personal state of the art miniature camera. They can instantly photograph or film anything they want whenever they want. Why is it then that footage of ghosts, UFOs, bigfoot, sea monsters, and whatever else you care to mention, is no more prolific or convincing today than it was before this technology was invented? If these things exist why are they not filmed on a daily basis? Why is there still no killer evidence?
I am only interested in ghosts.
Let me guess. Presumably, Sleepford Hall is haunted? Is that what this is all about?
That is exactly what this is all about Mr Anderson. I am offering you the ultimate ghost story.
It's not really my cup of tea these days Mr Edwards. Why don't you ask someone else? There's a few reporters around here who would probably be grateful for something different to write about. Honestly, I'm just not in the mood to write an article about a haunted house.
Your reward might have been fictitious Mr Anderson but mine is not. If you spend one night alone in Sleepford Hall I will give you one million pounds. This offer only extends to you. The challenge is not open to anyone else at the Chronicle. Only you.
One million pounds? Are you serious?
Very serious.
"What's