Part I - Part II

It looks like her, but I don’t think May ever left the unhallowed halls of Whitewall House.

The children hated our new home from the moment they first laid eyes upon it. We drove along a disused gravel driveway, past the dilapidated farm of a long-gone man.

“It’s too… still,” May muttered.

My wife’s comment unsettled me. Her tone was uncharacteristically sombre, which frustrated me, given that our children were already being a pain. I wanted her support. Where was her usual sunny disposition?

“This place is creepy, Dad,” Freddie trembled.

“I hate agreeing with the idiot, but he’s right,” Tilly seconded.

“Let’s hold our verdicts until we’ve stepped foot inside the house,” I said. “Things will look better when we’ve made the place our own. You’ll see.”

But I was wrong. Things worsened. May would frequently wake me in the middle of the night, screeching about a long-armed lady that silently watched her from the corner of our bedroom. And then she said the thing with long limbs started to stalk her during the day. Only ever in the house, of course.

“We need to leave this place, Carl,” She begged.

“I just think we should consider the therapy that Dr Marlow suggested,” I said. “We have two fully-grown children and a newborn baby on our hands. Don’t you think the sleepless nights could be to blame? After all, post-natal depression could-”

“- I’m not depressed,” May cried. “Why won’t you just believe me?”

“I always believe you, but your mind is playing tricks,” I said softly. “I just don’t believe in haunted houses, May.”

On the night that we fled Whitewall House, I ate those words. I saw something that I could not and cannot explain. Something that gives me cause to believe my wife never made it out of that house.

“Get the children,” May wailed.

The sudden request stirred me violently from my sleep, and I rubbed my weary eyes to find my wife in a shaky, upright position. For a split second, I thought I saw a figure by the window, and I screamed —but when my eyes adjusted to the light, I realised it was just a curtain billowing in the breeze.

“Oh… Sorry, I left the window open,” I sighed.

“No, Carl,” May whispered, pointing at the haunted corner of the room. “It’s finally come to take me. Look.”

Horrifyingly, when I followed her finger, I saw the figure again, and I realised it hadn’t been a trick of the light or my sleepy eyes. A long-necked lady lurked in the dimly-lit corner of our room, but the moonlight was sufficient to illuminate her slender, crooked stature and stringy, waist-length hair.

Yelling in terror, I leapt out of bed and fumbled with the light switch. It didn’t work, and the long-necked demon started to walk towards the bed.

“Get the fuck up!” I shrieked at my wife.

May clumsily slid across the mattress, and I hoisted her up, practically carrying her to the landing. We burst into the kids’ shared room, and I scooped Baby Jen out of the cot whilst Freddie and Tilly started to wake up.

“What’s happening?” Tilly sleepily asked.

“We’re leaving,” May ordered. “Go straight to the car.”

“But-” Freddie began.

“- Do as your mother says!” I barked.

Freddie and Tilly are good kids. On that night, they must have been terrified out of their minds, but they saw that their parents felt the same. The five of us were in a tightly-knitted huddle, moving through the darkened house. None of the light switches worked, so I asked Freddie to illuminate the way with my phone — my hands were full with Jen.

“Where’s Mum?” Tilly suddenly shrieked.

I turned my head. May had been pressed against my side, but she vanished without a sound.

“Wait in the car,” I said, passing the baby to my son. “Look after both of your little sisters, Freddie. Keys are in my coat pocket.”

“Where are you going?” Freddie asked.

“I’m going to find your mother,” I replied. “Wait in the car.”

As the children scurried downstairs, I heard a door creaking at the end of the hallway. Creeping along the near-lightless hallway, I squinted at the crack between the ajar door and the frame.

I found myself silently screaming as I locked eyes with the long-necked lady. It smiled at me — a toothy, almost-human smile on its shadowy, corpse-like face. Its head hung to one side, struggling to stay upright on such an obscenely-long neck.

“Carl!” May cried.

I spun to see my wife standing behind me on the landing, her face strewn with tears. And when I turned back to the ajar door at the end of the landing, the long-necked entity had disappeared.

I didn’t ask questions. I simply seized May’s hand, hurried the two of us downstairs, and followed our children to the car. As I twisted the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, I half-expected to see our spectral stalker in the open doorway of our lifeless home.

Nothing. The house sat soundlessly in the darkness as I drove down the driveway, putting Whitehall House in the rearview mirror for good. And that was truly what I believed as we settled down at a nearby hotel for the evening. It was over.

But something startled me awake. May was breathing heavily on my neck in bed. Slow, heavy, guttural breathing. Completely unlike herself. I rolled over, preparing to tell her to stop snoring.

She wasn’t snoring.

She was lying there, wide awake, staring at me. And she wore the most dreadful smile — the tips of her lips curved upwards, nearly reaching her piercing eyes.

The worst part is that I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. Skin covered my mouth. May inhaled and exhaled heavily, placing her index finger on my mouthless face. With an unwavering smile, she shushed me. And then I found myself unwillingly drifting back to sleep.

When I woke this morning, my lips had returned and my children were sleeping safely in their beds. That might have been a bad dream, I considered. I looked at May. Her eyes were closed, but her lips started to bend upwards into that ghastly grin.

I could no longer deny the truth. The thing next to me was not May.

That brings us to the present. I think I have to get my children out of here and go back to Whitewall House.

Part II

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