Ghostly Goings On

Kieran placed the mugs of tea down for himself and for his wife Debbie. He joined her on the sofa. It was still only early evening. They had a nice couple of hours before bed. He gave Debbie a nudge and suggested putting a film on. There was a new spy thriller starting later too.

‘Okay, but I want to watch my programme at eight o’clock.’ Debbie said.

‘Which one?’ Kieran asked.

‘You know, the Haunted House Horror Show.’ She said.

Kieran rolled his eyes, whatever.

‘The only thing haunting these houses, is that flippin’ camera crew!’ He laughed.

While Debbie watched the show where a team of so-called experts explored a supposed haunted house, an idea came to him. It would be hilarious to prank his wife, to convince her that their house was haunted.

Kieran loved a practical joke and was well-known in his circle of family and friends for his pranks. He once convinced a friend that they were all going out in fancy-dress one evening. While they had all arrived dressed in their normal jeans and t-shirts, the friend had turned up as Willy Wonka complete with cane and top hat.

And now he had found the victim of his latest prank. This would be hilarious. They would talk of this one for years. The more he plotted and planned, the more the idea sounded just brilliant.

A few nights later, they were watching a television quiz show, when Debbie shivered. She pulled the sleeves down on her cardigan over her hands.

‘Is it me or is it freezing in here?’ She asked.

‘It is really cold.’ Kieran agreed. ‘Dunno why, the heating has been on full-blast all evening.’

He crossed the room and placed his palm against the radiator.

‘It is on, love, it’s blasting out heat. It’s piping hot. Not sure why the room is icy cold.’ He said.

‘Is it anything to worry about?’ Debbie asked.

‘You think we need the boiler servicing?’ Kieran asked.

Debbie simply shook her head. Kieran knew what she was thinking. On the spooky television show the other night, one of the signs of a haunting was ice cold spots in an otherwise warm room, and sudden drops in temperature. He knew that Debbie would stress that the freezing temperature was something more other-worldly than dodgy plumbing. He wouldn’t reveal that he had turned the radiator down and opened the window behind the curtains, to let the wintry, icy blast into the room.

He was delighted that the seed had been planted, the suggestion that things maybe not right, that their house could very well be haunted. This would be hilarious. He would get Debbie all worked up, convinced the house was haunted, and then he would reveal the whole thing had been a prank. This would be the funniest thing ever.

The following evening, as they were watching television, there was a loud banging on the front door. It sounded like someone was kicking and slamming their fist on the door. Alright, mate, calm down, Kieran chunnered as he went to answer the door. Debbie watched him, anxious to see who was causing such a fuss at their door.

Kieran opened the door and peered up and down the street. Nobody there, he said to Debbie. He was still feigning confusion when she joined him at the doorstep. She looked around. The street was empty. Probably kids messing around, Kieran suggested, before closing the door.

As they were going to bed one evening, Kieran held back, pretending to go and check the back door was locked. As quietly as he could, he gathered all the cups from the kitchen cupboard and stacked them high on the dining table. He took a step back to admire his handiwork.

Perfect. It just looked so strange, so out of place for the cups to be stacked in a tower on the kitchen table. Just wait until Debbie got up the next morning.

Sure enough, while he was getting ready for work, Debbie headed downstairs. He had to keep a straight face as he went down to find Debbie in the kitchen. She was panicking, waving her hands, asking how this could happen, what did it all mean?

Kieran simply shrugged, replying that there must be a simple explanation, before heading back upstairs to get ready for work.

When Kieran arrived home from work there was the usual junk mail lying on the mat. There was a leaflet for a local gardeners, a takeaway menu for a new kebab shop that had just opened, and a catalogue of online bits and bobs.

These brochures were regularly pushed through the door. Did anyone actually buy any of the tat from these catalogues? The cover of the catalogue showed some of the items for sale, men’s leisure trousers, clothes pegs, and plastic food storage containers.

As he went to get changed out of his shirt and trousers, he flicked through the brochure. It really was the most eclectic collection of junk. Each item seemed more random than the last. Some clip-on sunglasses to go over your regular glasses, a pair of grey slip-on shoes, and a men’s summer jacket. Who would actually buy any of this stuff? He flicked over the page and then stopped.

He read the advert for the item carefully, trying to take in every detail. The timer-switch was designed to go in your plug-sockets, so that your lamps and other devices would come on at a certain time of day. It was handy for things like security. If you were going away, you could set it so that your lamps would come on each evening, giving the impression that somebody was home.

Kieran smiled to himself. This little gadget could prove to be very useful. In the prank he was playing with Debbie, it could be game-changer. He checked the time on his watch. Debbie would be home shortly. He went online and quickly ordered three of the time-switches to be delivered to his work address. This would be epic.

Early the following week, Kieran had set up the timer-switches around the house. As he was putting everything in place he giggled to himself, imagining Debbie’s reaction. Minutes later, everything was in place. This was going to be fantastic.

That evening, just before midnight, while he and Debbie were sleeping, they were disturbed by noise coming from downstairs. Chatter and canned laughter. Debbie sat up suddenly. Kieran feigned confusion and tiredness.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked.

‘Can you hear that? Sounds like the television has come on. You don’t think anyone is down there, do you?’ Debbie whispered, fear in her voice.

‘I’ll go and have a look.’ Kieran said, throwing the duvet aside.

He padded down the stairs and switched the television set off. He grinned to himself in the darkness, punching the air in silent celebration. The timer-switch had worked perfectly. If your mind was that way inclined, what else would you put something like this down to? Had to be a ghost, surely. Or your husband playing the most hilarious prank ever.

He climbed back in to bed and explained that the TV had come on.

‘Aren’t you scared?’ Debbie asked.

‘Of what? I know these 1980’s American sit-coms haven’t aged very well, but they are nothing to be frightened of.’ He laughed.

‘TV sets don’t just come on by themselves, Kieran.’ Debbie insisted.

‘It’s fine. All good. Try and get some sleep.’ he said, lying back down.

Smiling in the darkness, he drifted off to sleep.

The next thing Kieran tried was the living room lamps. They had several lamps in the living room, a couple were on tables, and also a free-standing tall lamp. If he planned this correctly, he could give quite the light show. Like with comedy, he always found that the secret to a good practical joke was timing.

Just after eight o’clock the cosiness of their living room was shattered as the lamps started switching off and on. Each lamp flickered off and on, casting the room in strobes of dark shadow. Debbie jumped up, crying out in shock. A second later it stopped.

‘What is going on?’ Debbie asked, on the verge of tears.

‘Maybe the electrics? A power surge?’ Kieran suggested.

Debbie’s response was cut short by sounds coming from the kitchen. They went through to find the kettle had bubbled to the boil.

‘Weird.’ Kieran said.

He and Debbie stared at the kitchen counter. Debbie was puzzled, Kieran was delighted that his timer switches were working so well. At that moment, and timed to perfection, the toaster popped, two slices of toast leaping out of the slots.

Debbie yelped in shock.

Kieran said nothing, letting Debbie’s imagination do all the work. The only way the kettle would boil and the toaster would pop is if someone had pushed the buttons. But the kitchen had been empty until they entered. Debbie was unaware that he had stuck the bread in the toaster earlier, just waiting for the timer-switch to bring the appliance to life.

‘What is happening?’ Debbie asked finally, her voice trembling.

‘Goodness knows, maybe it’s a sign. Anyway, fancy tea and toast?’ Kieran said brightly, pointing to the slices of toast.

‘Are you not worried about it?’ She said.

‘Not worried enough to let slices of toast go to waste. Sure you don’t want some ghost toast?’ He said.

While he munched on hot, buttered toast, Debbie simply chewed nervously on her thumbnail.

‘Do you think we need to call someone?’ Kieron asked.

‘Like an exorcist?’ Debbie said.

‘I was thinking an electrician.’ He shrugged.

While Kieron stretched out on the sofa, Debbie paced around the living room. Finally she spoke.

‘I can’t take this anymore.’ She said.

She looked completely terrified. Maybe he had gone too far. Kieran tried to find the words to explain how all this had been a hilarious practical joke.

‘I’m going to move out.’ Debbie said. ‘I’ll move in with my mum and dad for a while. If this carries on, we should try and sell the house.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Kieran said.

‘I’m serious. I’m going to pack a few things. I’ll give you a ring later.’ She said, turning to the door.

Kieran took hold of her hand.

‘It was me.’ He confessed.

‘What?’

‘Yeah, all of it. It was all me.’ Kieran said.

‘The sudden drop in temperature in the living room despite the heating being on?’ Debbie said.

‘I turned the radiator down and opened the window.’ He admitted.

‘The cups all being stacked up on the table when I came downstairs that morning?’

‘I did it before I went to bed. You’re always first up in the morning.’ He replied.

‘The knocking at the windows and doors at night?’

‘Yeah, my mate Barry did it on his way back from the pub. Hilarious.’

‘And what about all this tonight? The TV and radio coming on? The kettle and the toaster? The lamps?’ She asked.

‘Yeah. That was me. I used the remote and a timer switch.’

Debbie nodded, trying to take it all in.

‘It was funny, though. You were worried sick. Your face was a picture!’ He laughed.

‘I’m going to get changed.’ Debbie said. ‘You can make me a cup of tea.’

Kieran laughed and gave her a salute. It was the least he could do, he agreed. He gave a satisfied sigh, his prank had been fun while it lasted.

As they sipped their tea on the sofa Debbie went over the prank Kieran had played.

‘You’re outrageous. Unbelievable! What a trick to play on someone!’ She said.

‘Honestly, Debbs, it was hilarious.’

‘And you were behind it all?’ Debbie said.

‘Yep, all me.’ Kieran said, holding his hands up.

‘The writing on the mirror. That was you?’ She asked.

The grin faded from Kieran’s face.

‘Wait, what? What mirror? What are you talking about?’

‘The mirror in the bathroom. Each morning there is writing in my lipstick. It’s the same thing over and over. The mirror is covered. I keep wiping it off each time.’ She said.

Kieran felt sick.

‘What does the message say?’ He asked.

‘I’ll show you. I took a photo this morning it was that bad.’

Debbie handed him her mobile phone. Kieran stared at the photograph in shock. In the picture the mirror in the bathroom was covered in the pink lipstick. Written dozens of times, in wild, scrawling, manic hand-writing, was the same phrase.

You should not meddle!

Kieran was stunned. He had played no part in the scrawling on the mirror. The message absolutely terrified him. By playing this silly prank, had he unwittingly unleashed something? Had the tone of his jokes unleashed something, some sinister force from the other side?

As they got into bed that evening, Debbie leaned over and kissed him.

‘No more practical jokes, okay? Not on me. Save that for your friends. Promise?’ She said.

‘Promise.’ He said, the way he felt right then he wouldn’t be playing any pranks anytime soon.

Kieran hardly slept that night, as his mind raced. Had he brought some strange supernatural entity into their house? Maybe Debbie had been right, maybe they would have to move if their house was haunted. While Debbie slept soundly beside him, he lay awake in the darkness, absolutely petrified. He couldn’t get the image of the bathroom mirror covered in the manic writing out of his mind. Whatever force had scribbled that message was certainly raging. Perhaps if he heeded the warning from the sinister force, then maybe things would stop. If he stopped his silly joke, maybe that would be the end of it. He could only hope.

The following morning, when the alarm went off, Debbie woke and cheerfully wished him good morning. She stretched and asked how he had slept. He still couldn’t get the image of the mirror in the photo from his mind. He would ask Debbie to delete the photo she took and hopefully they could try and put the strangeness behind them.

‘How did you sleep?’ Debbie repeated.

‘Not well at all.’ He admitted. ‘You’re in a good mood this morning.’

Debbie simply smiled and pecked him on the cheek. Humming to herself, she headed for the bathroom. Kieran lay back down in bed, nestling his head into the pillow. He heard Debbie flick the bathroom light on, the extractor fan kicking in and whirring away. The next sound he heard was Debbie screaming.

‘The mirror!’ She screamed. ‘Kieran, is this you?’

Kieran dashed across the landing and into the bathroom. Debbie pointed to the bathroom mirror above the sink. The glass was covered in lipstick writing. Bright red scrawl filled the mirror, frantic lettering.

As Kieran read the message on the mirror, he heard Debbie beside him laughing. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, still chuckling.

Your face is a picture! The mirror was all me!

I took that photo last night after you told me!

This makes us even!

Love Debbie xx

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom