An English Haunting

I am here to tell you a true story. You can believe it or not, But I don't care, it is true. I was born in a small town called Barrow in Furness, England. I had a twin brother but he died a month after birth. When my uncle cliff died my Grandmother inherited all his money and his manor house in Hertfordshire. He was a professor and author. I do not know the manors real name, but I called it paradise. It had green gardens and a lovely façade. I spent the winters there. My father left us there once on the third of December. We left on the fourth of December. Let me tell you what happened...

My grandmother screamed around two hours after dad left, it came from the kitchen. She claimed to have seen Uncle Cliff's reflection in a pan. She was left traumatized. We put her to bed but she was still shocked. My grandfather assured us she would be well again in the morning. Around lunch time we ate in the dining room, Cucumber sandwiches, I hated them. But is was Grandfathers custom. He was telling us about his work in the shipyards when we heard a smash. We looked around the house to investigate, when we entered my grandmother's room, she was asleep but the window was smashed there was no sign to what could have caused it, so my grandfather cleared the mess up and moved her to the next room and we cleared the table downstairs. In the early evening my grandfather was watching the football on television, I was reading the paper, I wasn't paying any attention to him or the screen. But when I did look up he was gone. I shouted him but I got no answer. I looked around for him but I could not find him, I went outside and saw a man sitting by the front gate. It was him, he was crying, he kept saying he didn't know why, so I took him inside and sat him down. He calmed down but he later claimed to have seen Uncle Cliff's reflection in the TV screen. I started to worry now, so he went to bed and I put my brother to bed. I stayed up to see what was going on... This is the real scary part...

I was in the Foyer, at the top of the stairs; I stood still trying to listen. When I turned to look down the stairs I fell. I could not remember tripping. But I do remember some force. I was scared now, so I got paranoid, I threw every glass cup in the bin, I closed all the curtains and turned the TV around so I could not see the screen and I carefully removed all the mirrors. If there was no reflection in the house, I could not see Uncle Cliff. It was dark. Cold from the broken window and I was tired. But I refused to stay awake. I forgot something; there were no curtains in the dining room. There would be reflection on the windows. My grandmother was still scared when she came downstairs to see what I had been making noise about, so I explained. She was terrified, so she was mad, not at me, but at Uncle Cliff, she took a hammer from the tool cupboard, and smashed every window in the dining room. And casually annoyed we went to bed. But not for long, We where woken by my brother screaming, he said that he heard voices. We thought that was crazy, compared to the trashing the house of reflection extravaganza. But we heard a whisper, "get out". It turned out to be Grandfather playing a joke. So we went back to bed, my brother slept in my room and I slept in his.

When we awoke in the morning, we went downstairs, The house was a tip, glass everywhere, furniture misplaced, But we all wanted to leave, we had all been scared in some way, Physically, mentally or visually. So we called my father to come pick us up. He did, and NO WORD OF A LIE, when we drove off, I looked in the car mirror to look back at the house, and there stood in the door, was Uncle Cliff. We never went back to the house only to lock the door. My grandmother was never able to sell it to extent of the damage, so she just left it to decay. Her and Grandfather moved into a small house in Barrow. We moved to Plymouth. In 2008 it was given permission by my grandmother to be torn down. In its place shops were built. I never went there again, and never will...

I know this all sound to weird to be true, like I said I don't care, It is my scary story, it is true to me, to my brother and to my grandparents. I used a fake name for Uncle Cliff, to personal privacy. And I never called the place Paradise, I called it Haven. I hope you enjoyed the story, I will always remember it. Sleep tight...