This week’s story is available on my substack. I am moving over there permanently. If you enjoy reading my work, please join me there. Subscribe for free to get all my stories. https://open.substack.com/pub/susanbeetlestone/p/renovations?r=4fsw9&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true I hope to see you there ..read more

The touch of an invisible hand. Voices heard where there are no people. Footsteps on an empty staircase, the sound of furniture moving upstairs when no-one else is at home. A dark shadow glimpsed from the corner of an eye. A transparent figure in a dark room. None of these. Yet, it was a haunting. Sorry to be a tease, but the rest of this story is published on Substack at susanbeetlestone.substack.com. Please join me. It is free to subscribe ..read more

The thing in the corner only showed up after Jess and I had been here for a month, about the time we felt we were properly organised and settled in. I walked into the living room and saw a dark mass in the far corner by the window, dense and black, filling the corner almost to the ceiling. I took one step towards it and it was not there anymore. Just gone. I had my eyes open, not even a blink, and it vanished as if it had never existed. Naturally I assumed that it truly had never existed, that it was just an inexplicable shadow. The chill I felt when I thought of it I just put down to animal f ..read more

The thin, piercing wail of a child’s voice rose up into the air, sailing past the gargoyles on the roof of St Mary’s Church and away into the clouds. ‘Youth is wasted on the young,’ muttered the gargoyle Spick. ‘Age is wasted on the old,’ countered Span. They had been named by the stonemason who carved their disgruntled faces in the images of his least-beloved fellow men. Spick was not to be outdone in matters of misanthropy. ‘Life,’ it said, ‘is wasted on the living. Look at that miserable creature shuffling along down there. beautiful day like this, and he can’t even raise a smile.’ With the ..read more

There were woods here even after people came. Then the trees were felled and a small house was built. Later, since the location was good, just on the edge of town, the small house was demolished and a larger one built. The town grew and not too long ago the large house was demolished and the land turned into a car park. Mac’s car was the only one left in the car park. It was late and pouring with rain. He wished he had been able to park nearer the exit rather than all the way over the other side. His car gleamed in the darkness, the few lights in the carpark reflecting off all of the wet surfa ..read more

A thin, silvery mist haunts the St Mary’s graveyard path, even on warm dry days. Robin Kean did not notice as he took his shortcut through it. There was a slight tug on his sleeve but he did not notice. He was caught up in his own problems, walking the two miles to the office instead of driving, forced to exercise, feeling nothing beyond the pain in his feet and the general misery of his mind. A few days before he had been told that his blood pressure was dangerously high. Increased exercise, reduced stress and a better diet were prescribed, along with a bottle of pills. He was taking the pill ..read more

The man was dead. He sat cross-legged, propped up against a flower-covered altar, the flesh on his face sunken against the skull, hollow eyes closed, bony hands lying palm up on his lap. Dressed only in a thin white shirt and trousers, he would have been cold if in any state to feel it. The Sacred Harmonic Society sounded harmless enough. Musicians, perhaps, wanting a CCTV camera to protect their instruments. Arnold’s error became apparent as soon as the door opened, and a white-clad, smiling man introduced himself as ‘Brother Francis’. Now he was too far inside to get out of the job. In front ..read more

It was late Victorian detached house, red brick with fancy terracotta tiles around the windows. Two stories and an attic, surrounded on all sides with overgrown gardens. Bert suffered lacerations to his right arm from an unruly rose bush just getting out of the van. A skip was waiting for them further up the drive, as was Mrs Lightfoot, the deceased owner’s housekeeper and holder of the door keys. She was a well-built woman of middle years, dark hair pulled back into a bun on the back of her head, everything tightly under control. Bert approached with a big smile, his usual method of dealing w ..read more

The tree was old, gnarled and ugly, with lumps and bumps and knots resembling a twisted face on its upper trunk. The almost leafless branches reached over like clawed arms. ‘It almost looks alive,’ thought Evan. He knew that trees were alive, of course, just not like people or animals. Not properly alive. This one looked like something out of a book of fairy tales his girlfriend had, with old illustrations by Arthur somebody-or-other. Evan got out his phone to take a few pictures to show her. Lifting the phone, he noticed that someone was partly in the shot, but when he looked to see who it wa ..read more

Annie and Phil both hated after-hours shelf stocking, yet here they were. They were paid a bit extra for working at night, and they both, for different reasons, needed more money. Who doesn’t? It was a big supermarket and at night, after closing, only half the overhead lights were switched on, to save money. the place was full of shadows and every little sound was amplified by the hard surfaces and high ceiling. Because of the ‘flu going round Annie and Phil were the only two to turn up for the shift. Wilson, the supervisor was not pleased. It meant that he would have to do some work as well ..read more