A Christmas Ghost Story

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It had been a glorious day, admitted the cold winter's wind had at times been as sharp as a butcher's cleaver but that only added to the exhilaration of the day. This was the first time Colin and Katrina had been walking on Dartmoor and now as the pastel pink ribbons of cloud announced the close of day the couple began to head back for their car. The trip had been a a last minute substitute for what should have been a weekend in Paris to celebrate Katrina's 30th birthday. Sadly their plans had fallen prey to the 'credit crunch' but determined not to let the economic climate completely destroy any hope of pleasure the couple had decided to visit Dartmoor. Normally anything that meant travelling more than 50 miles from home was meticulously planned to the final detail, however, in this instance the last minute decision meant that not even a hotel room had been booked. Having crossed the moor along the main Okehampton to Tavistock road the couple had noticed a couple of 'quaint' hotels and inns. Now as the dimpsey began to shroud the moor Colin and Katrina went in search of a romantic little inn to spend the night. Eventually they came across what appeared to be the ideal place, a long sprawling granite building whose thatched roof had just begun to take on that golden honey colour that only comes with age. A steady plume of grey smoke wafted from the chimney, its reassuring smell of wood ash scented the evening air with the promise of a roaring log fire. The couple clicked the latch of the heavy wooden door and as it creaked open they were met with the vision of a warm and homely moorland bar on whose ancient walls the light from the log fire danced. Colin carefully studied the row of beer pumps which stood along the heavy wooden counter, Katrina studied the tariff and the menu. Colin soon found a real ale that very much took his fancy and Katrina has spotted the £80 a room charge and some mouth-watering local dishes that took hers. A nod from Katrina gave Colin the go-ahead to book a room and after signing in they were escorted back out into the chill night air and over to their room. Colin had a keen interest in old buildings and as they approached a flight of granite steps he figured out that their room was once the barn belonging to the ancient farmhouse. A bright light automatically snapped on and bathed the steps in burning white light, the couple blinked and waited while their eyes became accustomed to the vivid intrusion.

'Sorry about that', the landlord said, 'these old steps can get slippy and they are steep which is why we have such a bright light'.

Having made the ascent of the granite mountain the couple were ushered into a large room with very low and very old beams, a huge bed sprawled across the middle of the room. At its foot was an old, five foot, wooden dressing mirror that seemed to be very out of place and character - antique meets rustic. The landlord left the couple to settle in and returned to the yard where the night was clear and crisp with a full moon hanging over the moor.

Katrina decided that she wanted a very deep, very hot bath in which she could wallow in unashamed luxury and so after a quick wash Colin headed back to the bar to sample those local ales.

'Mind the steps when you come down', he called back, just as the floodlight lit up the yard.

An hour later Katrina strolled into the bar, the distinct smell of her perfume gently wafting behind her. Colin immediately recognised the aroma as the perfume she only wears for 'special' nights, a smug grin spread across his face as he thought of the pleasures that awaited him. Having already sampled the Teignworthy and Tribute ales he was ready now to try the Tawny which because of its eye catching label he had left until last. With a foaming pint of ale in one hand and a large glass of Merlot in the other he ushered Katrina over to a vacant table near the huge granite fireplace. It was at this table the couple spent the rest of the night bathing in the heat of the crackling fire, dining on what could only be described as a veritable feast of local dishes and supping fine ales and wine. It must have been about 11.45pm when Colin decided it was time for his nightcap and it was only when he went to go to the bar that he realised the local ales were a lot stronger than he had thought. After a few precarious steps he managed to regain some semblance of balance and tottered to the bar where by some miracle a bottle of 10 year old Ardbeg was spotted through the alcohol induced miasma. Colin somehow managed to return to their table where he sipped his deep peat scented nectar under the glowering stare of Katrina who was asking herself exactly whose birthday they were celebrating, obviously not hers!

It must have been about 12.30am when Katrina managed to steer her husband out of the bar and into the night air. The moorland chill hit Colin like a poleaxe making him lurch and stumble across the frost crusted cobbles, eventually he was steered in the right direction by his none too happy wife.

'Now for Pete's sake be careful', she hissed, 'not only are they steep but also icy, and the last thing I want is to be taking you to hospital'.

Step, by ginger step, Colin slowly ascended the flight of stairs, hanging on to the cold, metal handrail for all his life. Eventually the Everest-like summit was reached and the hapless drunk crashed through the door and plunged onto the bed in a move that would have earned him a gold medal at any diving event. Within five minutes Colin was doing a very good impression of a steam train and his wide open mouth the tunnel entrance it was about to come out of. Suddenly he awoke and when his senses found their way out of the alcohol haze Colin realised that the room was freezing cold. The light of the full moon cast an eerie silver hue across the floor and it seemed to highlight everything in it. He looked toward the window and saw at the foot of the bed the figure of a small girl dressed in what appeared to be Victorian clothing. As his eyes slowly began to focus he realised that the girl was actually reflecting in the large dressing mirror at the foot of the bed. All around her tiny body was what seemed to be a dark green luminous shadow which appeared to highlight her deathly pale skin colour. Colin shook his head and wiped his eyes but still the figure was staring at him, the room seemed even colder now, clouds of his breath lay stagnant over the bed like the moorland mists that hover over the mires. He turn towards his wife who was sleeping the sleep of the just and appeared totally oblivious to the events that were occurring. Logic told the man to avert his eyes but it was as if a magnet was drawing them back towards the mirror.

Transfixed, Colin could do nothing but look at the apparition staring at him from the depths of the old dressing mirror, it was as if it was acting as a screen upon which the ghostly act was being projected on. Shiver after shiver ran down his spine, his brain was working hard to convince himself that the gruesome spectacle he saw was purely a result of the drink. In fact he almost convinced himself of this when the little girl stepped out of the mirror and walked up to stand beside him. Again he was compelled to turn his head sideways to witness the horror. Colin stared deep into those little lifeless eyes whose stare seemed to pin him to the pillow, now a nostril twitching, sickly stench began to turn his already churning stomach, it reminded him of the rotting smell of the nest of dead rats he once found in their attic. He wanted to scream but could make no sound, he wanted to shake Katrina from her sleep but every muscle seemed locked, he just wanted to be somewhere else.

The small girl slowly reached out an icy hand and touched his face, then she stood up straight, all the time looking deep into his soul, then with a gruesome grin she flung her head backwards and to Colin's horror it fell over her shoulders and laid on her back. A nerve grating crack and creaking of bone broke the silence of the room as her head rolled from shoulder to shoulder, all he could see was the ashen grey of her young slender neck and the sight of her dark curls as they swayed from side to side. The sound of a gurgling laugh burst from her throat every time the boneless neck rolled clicking and crunching from left to right. Then the little girl slowly turned around and Colin could see the hideous stare coming from her inverted head which now lay still upon her back.

To this day Colin cannot fathom out how it managed it but somehow he shot his arm out and grabbed his electric razor which lay on the bedside cabinet. With what little strength that had not be drained from his body he hurled the razor at the mirror, the sound of splintering glass broke the deathly silence of the room. Events then happened very quickly, an ear piercing scream came from the spectral figure of the girl, Katrina shot out of bed with an equally alarming scream and a shower of broken glass sprayed over the bed. When Colin looked around the room these was no sign of his ghostly visitor all he could see was a furious Katrina rushing towards him, all he could feel was the stinging sensation of her hands as they assailed his face.

Slowly Katrina began to calm down, naturally she was desperately seeking an explanation of what had happened but Colin knew only too well that this was not the time to relate his version of events. In all reality he was not sure himself, had he really witnessed that repulsive little girl with her head hanging down her back? Had he merely had an alcohol induced nightmare and everything was a figment of his imagination. One fact was that he was going to have to explain the broken mirror to the owner of the hotel.

None too soon the first streaks of daylight began to spread across the Dartmoor sky and this was accompanied by the smell of a fried breakfast being cooked. Katrina was in a sullen mood and was demanding that Colin went down immediately and reported the damage to the mirror. Shakily Colin dressed and went outside where he was greeted by a bright, frosty morning. Carefully he made his way down the steep, ice covered steps and made his way across the cobbled yard, the patched of frozen grass made a sickening crunching sound that he knew only too well.

The landlord was happily shaking a pan of scrambled eggs when Colin went into the kitchen, there was now way he was going to say a word about exactly how the mirror got broke. The version of events he gave the owner was that he got out of bed during the night and knocked the mirror over as he made his way across to the bathroom. The hotelier politely accepted this story although all the time he was recalling the staggering figure that lurched out of the bar last night. Naturally Colin offered to pay for the damage but the landlord simply said that his insurance would take care of it, after all, 'accidents do happen'. Colin thanked him profusely and said he would go back and fetch his wife down to breakfast.

As he walked towards the door he stopped dead in his tracks when the hotelier said:

'Tell you wife to mind those steps, they're real dangerous at the best of times, why many years ago the owner of this farm lost his little daughter when she fell down them and broke her neck.'