Liam shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. It wasn’t just the autumn wind; it was the house. It stood on top of the hill, dark against the grey afternoon sky. Blackened stone, empty windows like eyes, and a silence that felt heavy. He’d inherited it from a great-aunt he barely remembered, a woman his mother only spoke about in whispers. Now, it was his problem.
He pushed open the heavy wooden gate. It groaned loudly, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. The garden was overgrown, wild bushes scratching at the path that led to the front door. Liam fumbled in his pocket for the rusty key his solicitor had sent him. It felt cold in his hand.
The key turned in the lock with a loud click that seemed too sharp for the stillness. He pushed the door open. It creaked inwards, revealing a dark hallway. The air inside was freezing, much colder than outside, and smelled strongly of dust and something else… something damp and unpleasant, like old clothes left wet for too long.
“Hello?” Liam called out. His voice sounded small and strange in the large space. Only silence answered him.
He stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him, though he immediately wished he hadn’t. The click of the lock settling felt final. He took out his phone and switched on its torch, the bright beam cutting through the darkness. Dust motes danced in the light.
The hallway was long. Dark wooden panels covered the walls. Ahead, a wide staircase climbed into shadows. To his left and right were closed doors. He decided to start downstairs.
He pushed open the door to his left. It led into a large living room. Furniture stood draped in white sheets, looking like ghosts in the torchlight. An old grandfather clock stood silent in one corner. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Liam walked carefully across the wooden floorboards. They creaked under his weight with every step. He shone his torch around the room, looking for anything obviously valuable or interesting. Nothing. Just old, forgotten things.
He moved to the next room – a dining room, with a long table and chairs also covered in sheets. Again, nothing seemed disturbed. It felt like time had stopped in this house years ago. He continued his exploration, finding a kitchen at the back of the house. Old cupboards hung open, empty. There was a strange, dark stain on the floor near the back door, but Liam tried not to think too much about it. Old houses have stains, he told himself.
Then he heard it. A faint scratching sound.
He froze, listening intently. Was it coming from upstairs? Or maybe inside the walls? Rats, perhaps? Old houses often had rats. He tried to ignore it, telling himself it was just the building settling, or the wind outside.
He decided to check upstairs. He walked back to the hallway and placed his foot on the first step of the wide staircase. The wood groaned loudly under his weight. He climbed slowly, his torch beam bouncing ahead of him, lighting the way. The scratching sound seemed to stop as he climbed.
The landing at the top of the stairs was dark and seemed even colder than downstairs. More closed doors led off the landing. He tried the first door on his right. It opened into a bedroom. A large bed, covered in a sheet, dominated the room. An old wooden wardrobe stood against one wall. As he shone his torch around, he felt it – a definite drop in temperature. It was icy cold near the window. He checked the window; it was closed tightly. Strange.
He backed out of the room and tried the next door. This room was smaller, perhaps a study or office. An old desk sat under the window, papers still scattered across it, thick with dust. Liam felt uneasy. It felt like someone had just left, mid-task, and never returned.
He heard the scratching sound again. This time it was louder, clearer. It sounded like fingernails scraping slowly across wood. It seemed to be coming from the end of the landing, from the last door on the left.
He hesitated. Part of him wanted to turn around, run down the stairs, and leave this cold, silent house immediately. But another part, the practical part, told him he needed to know what it was. If it was rats, he needed to deal with them before trying to sell the place.
Taking a deep breath, he walked slowly towards the last door. The air grew colder with each step. The scratching stopped again as he reached the door. He put his hand on the cold metal doorknob. He turned it slowly.
The door creaked open. He shone his torch inside. It was another bedroom, smaller than the first one. Empty, except for… something in the corner.
He directed his torch beam towards it. It was a small, old-fashioned wooden rocking chair. As the light hit it, the chair began to rock. Slowly, back and forth, back and forth. Creak… creak… creak…
Liam’s heart hammered in his chest. The room was freezing cold. There was no wind, no draught. Nothing could be making that chair move.
He stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe properly. The chair continued to rock, rhythmically, hypnotically. Creak… creak… creak…
Then, from the shadows behind the chair, he heard a faint whisper. It was impossible to make out the words, but it sounded dry, ancient, and full of malice.
That was enough. Liam stumbled backwards, pulling the door shut with a bang. He didn’t wait. He turned and ran, fumbling his way down the dark staircase, slipping on the worn wood. He didn’t care about the noise he was making. He reached the bottom and ran down the hallway towards the front door.
He fumbled with the lock, his hands shaking violently. The key! He needed the key to unlock it from the inside. Where was it? He frantically checked his pockets. Relief washed over him as his fingers closed around the cold metal. He jammed it into the lock and turned.
With a click, the door opened. He burst out into the grey afternoon light, gasping for breath. He didn’t stop running until he reached the gate, pulling it open and stumbling out onto the lane outside the property.
He leaned against the cold stone wall, breathing heavily, his heart still racing. He risked a glance back at the house. It stood silent and dark on the hill, just as before. But as he watched, in one of the upstairs windows – the window of the last bedroom – he thought he saw a curtain twitch, just for a second, as if someone had been watching him leave.
Liam didn’t wait to see any more. He got into his car, started the engine, and drove away down the hill as fast as he could. He didn’t look back again. He knew he would never return to the old house on the hill. Some inheritances were curses.
Vocabulary Notes
Shivered (verb)
Definition: To shake slightly and quickly, usually because you are cold or frightened.
Example: “Liam shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.”
Similar words: Trembled, shook, quivered. (These all mean to shake, often from cold, fear, or excitement).
Groaned (verb)
Definition: To make a long, deep sound. People can groan because of pain or sadness. Objects (like gates or wood) can groan when they move under pressure, often suggesting they are old or heavy.
Example: “He pushed open the heavy wooden gate. It groaned loudly…” (Also used for the stairs: “The wood groaned loudly under his weight.”)
Similar words: Creaked (often a sharper, higher sound than a groan), moaned (usually for people), squeaked (high-pitched).
Overgrown (adjective)
Definition: Covered with plants that have grown too large or too wild, often because no one has taken care of them.
Example: “The garden was overgrown, wild bushes scratching at the path…”
Similar words: Wild, unkempt (meaning untidy, often used for hair or gardens), neglected.
Fumbled (verb)
Definition: To use your hands in a clumsy or awkward way when you are trying to find something, hold something, or do something. Often happens when someone is nervous or in a hurry.
Example: “Liam fumbled in his pocket for the rusty key…” (Also used later: “He fumbled with the lock, his hands shaking violently.”)
Similar words: Groped (to search blindly), struggled, mishandled.
Damp (adjective)
Definition: Slightly wet, often in an unpleasant or cold way. It’s less wet than ‘wet’.
Example: “…smelled strongly of dust and something else… something damp and unpleasant, like old clothes left wet for too long.”
Similar words: Moist, humid (usually refers to air), dank (meaning damp, cold, and often dark or mouldy – very atmospheric).
Scratching (noun / verb – present participle)
Definition: (As a noun) The sound made when something sharp or rough rubs against a surface. (As a verb) The action of rubbing something sharp (like fingernails or claws) against a surface.
Example: “Then he heard it. A faint scratching sound.” (Also related: “It sounded like fingernails scraping slowly across wood.”)
Similar words: Scraping (often louder or rougher than scratching), grating, rubbing.
Hesitated (verb)
Definition: To pause before saying or doing something, often because you are feeling uncertain, nervous, or reluctant.
Example: “He hesitated. Part of him wanted to turn around…”
Similar words: Paused, faltered (to hesitate in speech or movement, often losing confidence), wavered, delayed.
Frantically (adverb)
Definition: Describes doing something in a hurried, desperate, and often disorganized way, usually because of fear, anxiety, or excitement.
Example: “He frantically checked his pockets.”
Similar words: Desperately, hurriedly, wildly, anxiously, manically.
Twitch (verb)
Definition: To make a short, sudden, jerky movement, often small and quick.
Example: “…he thought he saw a curtain twitch, just for a second…”
Similar words: Jerk, quiver (often means to shake slightly and continuously), flicker (often used for light, but can mean a quick, unsteady movement).
Inheritance (noun) / Inherited (verb)
Definition: (Inheritance) Money, property, or possessions that you receive from someone after they die. (Inherited) To receive money, property, etc., from someone who has died.
Example: “He’d inherited it from a great-aunt…” (Also: “Some inheritances were curses.”)
Similar words: Legacy (can mean inheritance, but also something left behind like a reputation), bequest (a formal word for something left in a will).
Story written by ChatGPT AI
Image created by Grok 3 AI (For some unknown reason, even to ChatGPT, it could not display the picture it had created to go with the story, so I went to Grok 3 and this is what it gave me)
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