Spooky Story
Sleeping in the attic, David got a rude awakening
Hmm. This bedroom could do with sprucing up, I thought. My wife, Anne, 61, had been in hospital with on-going medical issues and I was due to pick her up later that day.
So, wanting to cheer her up, I went out and bought new sheets and a doona cover to make the room nice and cosy.
That looks lovely, I thought, fluffing the pillows after I’d made the bed.
But just before I left to collect Anne, I got bad news – the doctors wanted to keep her in the hospital for another night.
I didn’t want to sleep in the bed and mess it all up, and the same went for spare rooms, which Anne always had ready for visitors, so I decided to camp out in the attic on a mattress.
Climbing up the stairs of my old Victorian house, I got comfy and dozed off.
Then, in the middle of the night, I woke with a start.
The wrinkled face of an old lady, just inches from my face, was staring at me!
But the house is empty!
I thought, my brain struggling to comprehend what I was seeing.
A ghost! I realised.
‘Aargh!’ I screamed.
But as I jumped up, I slipped and hit my head on a chest of drawers. Then, everything went black.
Coming to, I felt dizzy and realised my forehead was bleeding badly.
Shakily I stumbled down the stairs and called Triple-0.
‘You have a concussion,’ a paramedic said, stretchering me into the ambulance.
Rushed to the same hospital my Anne was at, my forehead was stitched up.
‘We’d like to monitor you overnight,’ the doctor said. It’s late so I won’t worry Anne, I thought.
The next morning, a nurse took me for a CT scan.
While we were waiting for the lift, I heard a familiar voice. It was Anne! ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she said.
‘You’ll never guess...’ I said, relaying my terrifying tale.
‘You’d do anything to see me, wouldn’t you?’ she laughed, hugging me.
‘Well, I was missing you,’ I joked.
Diagnosed with a fractured skull, I was discharged that afternoon with Anne.
‘David, the room looks beautiful!’ she exclaimed when we got home.
Still, as I drifted off to sleep that night, I hoped my ghostly guest wouldn’t make another appearance.
I later learnt from neighbours that a previous owner, a little old lady, had died in the house.
I’m guessing it was her spirit that I saw – and that she was a bit perturbed to see me in her attic!
Sadly, my Anne died a couple of years later, aged 63, from heart problems.
Thirteen years on, I miss my wife every day. But I’ve never been spooked by our resident ghost again.
The face of an old lady, just inches from my face, was staring at me