Haunting Sarah
Written & Published by
Maggie Chatterley
Copyright © 2012 by Maggie Chatterley
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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Haunting Sarah
Do you believe in ghosts? I never did. That is, until I found myself haunted by a very sexy spirit named Charles Cadbury. You know what they say about ghosts being nothing but mist, a virtual fog that easily passes through doors and is void of matter. Well, that is not entirely true. A ghost – when aroused – has the capability to make his physical presence known – and felt. Oh yes, he certainly does.
It all began when I started looking for a house to buy. It was going to be my first home purchase, and I was feeling quite liberated buying real estate by myself, without a husband at my side. I was already 29-years-old, unmarried and could not think of anyone I wanted to settle down with. Frankly, I rather liked being single, and I never wanted children.
I was dating a good looking and successful attorney, named Ted. However, I didn’t see Ted as someone I wanted to spend my life with. He was a nice guy, fun in bed, yet I wasn’t madly in love with him. I was not afraid of dying alone – but I was afraid of dying.
I’m an author, and my last mystery went viral after it was published as an eBook. Suddenly I found myself financially solvent – so much so that my accountant told me to buy a house.
Since it is just me, I figured a nice townhouse would be appropriate. I didn’t want anything too large. One of my best friends is a real estate agent, so I made an appointment with her to go over available properties that might meet my needs.
When I was at her office, I spied a listing flyer on her desk. It was for an estate she just listed, called Cadbury House. The picture of the house reminded me of one I described in my most recent mystery. It was uncanny. I picked up the flyer and looked at it.
“Oh you found that.” Carol commented as she joined me, near her desk. She carried several listing brochures in her hand, all of townhouses. “When I listed Cadbury House, I thought, this has to be the property you modeled that spooky old Victorian after in your last book.”
“You noticed it too?” I murmured, meaning the similarity between her listing and my fictional house.
“You did a good job describing it. I recognized it immediately.” Carol sat down behind her desk, obviously not noticing the look of confusion on my face.
“But Carol,” I said, “I made up that house. I’ve never seen the house in the flyer before. At least, I don’t think so. Where is it located?” At first, I thought it was a bizarre coincidence - the house in the flyer looked like one I created in my most recent best seller, yet perhaps I had seen it sometime in the past, and subconsciously drew from that memory when I wrote the description.
One thing led to another, and the next thing you know Carol is taking me over to Cadbury House, showing me the property. Initially, I was just curious to see the house in person, and neither Carol or myself considered I would be making an offer on the property later that afternoon, which is exactly what I did.
There was something so compelling about Cadbury House. I couldn’t quite define or describe it. Yet the feeling got stronger as Carol and I viewed the property.
“All the furniture goes with the house. Everything you see, stays.” Carol explained, as we walked from the large open entry hall through the double doors leading to the home library.
“Oh my,” I gasped, “this is my fantasy room! All it needs is one of those little ladders, that slides across the front of the bookshelves.”
“You mean like that?” Carol pointed to the corner of the room, and sure enough, there was a library ladder. A massive fireplace, with a carved mahogany mantle was on one wall, while floor to ceiling bookshelves covered two and a half walls. Next to the fireplace were French doors, leading to a small garden area. I felt as if I had stepped back in time. There was something so charming and nostalgic about the room; I wanted to stay forever.
As Carol showed me the rest of the property, I asked her to tell me what she knew about its history. For one thing, I wanted to know why all the furnishing was staying. I couldn’t believe anyone would sell a house and leave all those wonderful old leather bound books behind, and there were hundreds of them.
“The owner passed away several months ago, and apparently he had no family.” Carol explained. “He left instructions to sell the house with all the furnishings, and the money goes to some charity.”
“Wow, that is sorta sad.” I murmured, looking around, finding myself loving the house more and more. “He was never married? No kids?”
“I guess he was married. But his wife died around thirty years ago, according to the attorney. Apparently he was quite in love with his wife, and he became a recluse after she died.”
When we got to the master bedroom, I found myself staring into the haunting eyes of the house’s previous owner - Charles Cadbury. It wasn’t his ghost I was looking at, but a massive portrait that took up practically one third of a bedroom wall. The oil painting was of him and his wife, a striking couple. If the artist accurately captured the man’s expression, then it was obvious Cadbury was insanely in love with his wife. She was a pretty thing, and there was something a little familiar about the couple, yet I wasn’t sure what.
I got goose bumps as I stood in the master bedroom, staring up at the massive painting. It seemed like an odd place to hang such an overwhelming piece of art, and I certainly would feel uncomfortable having it be the first thing I looked at when I woke up in the morning.
That was the moment I knew I was going to buy the property. Already I was rearranging furniture in my mind, and trying to figure out where I might move the oil painting. I didn’t want to get rid of it; it belonged in the house - just not staring down at me as I slept.
I was about to turn from the painting, when the air around me suddenly got cool; I was engulfed in a pocket of cold air. Just as I shivered, it felt as if someone was standing at my back, and I practically jumped when hands moved around my waist from behind and hugged me tightly.
I tried to twirl around to confront whoever was there, yet, I was unable to move, for strong arms were holding me in place. I could see Carol from the corner of my eye and she seemed not to notice I was being manhandled. I felt persistent lips on my neck, nibbling and kissing my tender skin, making me shiver, as the hands that held me in place slipped upwards and captured my breasts, squeezing and fondling their softness. I could not believe this was happening, and Carol was just standing there as if this was all very natural.
Finally, I was able to break free and I twirled around. There was no one behind me. It was only Carol and me in the bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” Carol asked, noticing how I had jerked around.
“Nothing,” I muttered, very confused.
One would assume the peculiar experience might cause me to rethink my sudden desire to purchase the property. But, I wasn’t really frightened, and by the time we returned to the real estate office, I convinced myself I imagined the odd incident, certain my over active imagination was inspired by the loving embrace of the couple depicted in the impressive oil painting.
Carol tried to talk me out of making the offer, feeling I was acting on impulse. After all, what did I need with a two storied, five bedroom old house? I refused to listen, and a little over thirty days later the escrow closed and I was moving into my new home.
Ted thought I was nuts, and also tried to talk me out of the purchase. I only took him to the house once while it was going through escrow, and during the entire time, he kept complaining about how cold and drafty the house was. I felt he was overreacting, and simply was prejudiced against the old but quaint property, as it didn’t seem particularly cold to me that day.
I hired someone to help me move from my apartment. While the house was going through escrow, I sold or gave away most of my furniture, after all, my new house had much nicer furniture.