In the darkest recess of the parlour where the light barely reached, sat a figure. At first it was difficult to make her out since she blended so well with the blackness. At regular intervals she would turn and stare hard at me with eyes as blue as cornflowers.
We had moved into the old vicarage last September. The price was excellent. The previous occupant wanted a quick sale. We subsequently discovered it had been on the market for years. This was to be our first home; Jane and I were so excited.
At first I thought I imagined the figure but as the weeks passed into months, there she sat. I said nothing to Jane at first but one evening I broached the topic with her.
‘Do you sense a presence in the room?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ replied Jane.
‘Do you notice someone sitting in the far corner?’ I insisted. I got up to walk across to the figure but halted as the woman looked at me and shook her head.
‘There’s no one there.’ said Jane smiling.
I stood staring at the woman for a moment.
‘Perhaps you are under too much strain at work.’ replied Jane showing some concern.
‘I’m not under any strain at all but I ….’ I stopped as the figure for the first time stood up and appeared to be walking towards me. ‘Look….look there she is…..’ I shouted.
Jane looked frightened with this sudden outburst. She held her hand across her mouth stifling a scream. I was shaking uncontrollably and clutching my chest; the pain was excruciating. The next minute I was on the floor with Jane bending over me in hysterics. Behind her stood the old lady staring into my eyes and smiling.
Weeks later I was released from hospital; paralysed down one side and the loss of speech.
I sit in the corner of the room where the light barely reaches. I am she and she is me.