I always sleep on the right
side of our heavy, four-posted bed. At my left hand is a pine bedside cabinet
upon which is a table lamp and a small clock, and beyond the cabinet is the old
oak door leading onto the landing. Another small oak door facing the foot of
the bed leads to the shower room.
I had been aware for some time that
a short while after I put out the light there would come a rather odd little
noise from the direction of the door, something between a metallic click and a
sigh. I told
myself that there was probably a draft blowing somewhere which was rattling the
latch of the door, but at the same time, it did make me feel just a little
disturbed.
We had an electrician in to do
some work one morning and after he had gone, I was surprised to find a small, cone-shaped
pile of what looked like ash, about an inch across, sitting on my bedside table.
Rather crossly, (sorry, lovely Mr
Electrician) I wondered if by some chance he had been smoking in the bedroom
whilst working up there during the morning and forgotten to clear away the
evidence. When I brushed it away, it left a blackish stain which took some
removing. There was no sign of any of the substance anywhere else in the room.
When I went to bed that night,
I found on the floor at my side of the bed another neat conical pile, a little bigger this time. We scanned the ceiling
but it was smooth and (reasonably!) white as usual, so presumably the ash or
whatever it was hadn’t fallen from the attic. The carpet around was unmarked, and
there was no sign of anybody having been walked something in. Once again the stain left by the substance was
difficult to remove and left a faint grey patch on the carpet even after my best
efforts.
Over the next three or four
weeks, these small, neat, conical heaps, some the size of a ten pence coin, some
smaller, some rather bigger, appeared quite frequently and always either on my bedside
cabinet or on the floor at my side of the bed and nowhere else in the room. They
left a greyish-black stain on the carpet, as soot might. We searched but could
find no cause for them.
The strange little noise at the
door when the light was put out continued. I am not an ‘It’s a ghost!’ sort of
person, but I must confess that I began to feel as if there was someone in the
room and quite spooked and uneasy about opening the bedroom door in case another
mysterious little heap had appeared.
Then, early one evening, we
were getting ready to go and visit some friends. As had become my wont. I peered nervously and carefully
round the door before entering the bedroom, but the cabinet and carpet were quite
clear. It didn’t take us long to change. My husband left the room and I went
briefly into the shower room, emerging again a moment later, only to pull up short.
A nice, neat new conical pile had
appeared on the carpet at my side of the bed.
I called my husband back to
show him, and said to him, perhaps only half-jokingly, ‘If They are going to bring me little presents, I wish they would bring
me something nice like sweeties instead of little piles of ash!”
We had a pleasant evening,
returning quite early as I rarely go out in the evening, not having much
stamina left by then, and were in bed by ten. There were no heaps of ash this time.
I don’t sleep well as my rheumatoid
arthritis makes me very achy and I woke early. My heroic knight in shining armour got up and went
downstairs to make me a cup of tea. When I heard him creaking back up the
stairs I put on my bedside light and sat up, blinking around, as he entered the
room. On the floor at my side I noticed
something colourful and shiny. I pointed it out to my husband, and he picked
it up. It was a Roses chocolate wrapper, one end carefully pulled out and pleated
into a pretty fan shape.
I have never heard the sighing
click at the door again.
No more little piles of ash
have ever appeared.
I don’t have that odd feeling that
there is someone else in the bedroom any more.
Rational explanation, anybody?
