The Estate Agent.

[Kitosdad]

OK, the floors did creak when you walked across them, and the doors when you opened them, but it wouldn't cost a king's ransom to rectify those faults.
Mike Sherman made a note of them, more from routine than anything else.

He made his way around the ground floor of the big old house, now slightly the worse for wear, due to the years of no serious maintenance having been done.

Mrs.Lake, the deceased owner,had always been averse to spending a penny on the place, as many a local craftsman had discovered, after having spent good time issuing estimates for work which had never been low enough to meet her stringent standards, and so the house had fallen into disrepair.

Now it was to be sold, and this was the reason for Mike's inspection.
He was a partner in the small company of estate agents who were representing the estate of the late Mrs.Lake.

After having completed his tour of the ground floor he was about to climb the stairs to the first floor, when he remembered the cellar needed to be checked too.
He opened the door to the cellar,and noted that it too creaked badly. He made a note of this point, and the fact that the door would need painting, or replacing, as it was badly scratched on the inside.
He opened his briefcase and was dismayed to discover that he had forgotten his torch. There was no light fitted in the cellar, only a candle in an old jar standing on a small shelf next to the cellar door.
He lit the candle and slowly made his way down the stairs.

As he neared the bottom he thought he heard a low growl from somewhere within the cellar.
He stood stock-still and raised the candle higher.
He could see nothing, because the cellar was enormous and the dim light from the candle failed to illuminate it completely.
He took one more step and heard the growl again.
He peered closely into the gloom, and saw on the floor a pile of dried bones.
He turned about and quickly climbed out of the cellar, closing and fastening the door securely behind him.

He lit a cigarette and stood at the front window, allowing time for his nerves to calm, and for the nicotine to work it's magic.
Stubbing out the cigarette, he took a deep breath and approached the stairs.
He climbed them quickly, noting that there were no creaks coming from them.
He toured the spacious bedrooms and despaired at the neglect he found there.
The intricate plaster mouldings around the ceilings were crumbling and discoloured with dampness.
These would have to be replaced or removed.
A costly job, which would have to be reflected in the selling price, along with the gutters and fall-pipes on the exterior of the building.
Never mind,... he continued his inspection.
He made a rough estimate about the cost of repairs and refurbishment, and noted these down on his detailed sheet.

His last job was the attic.
He really had scheduled this job badly.
It was becoming dark and he hoped that there would be a light in the attic, but as in the cellar, expenses had been kept to a minimum, and only a candle was provided for any visitor.

He really didn't fancy inspecting the attic, but it would be better to get it done and finished today.
He lit the candle and walked into the crowded attic.
It was packed with dozens of items.
Perhaps they would bring a tidy sum at auction, he thought to himself.
He forced his way through the restricted spaces between furniture and trunks and dressmaking dummies.
There certainly were a lot of things in this attic.
He was busy checking the roof timbers for rot or damp when he heard the creak.
It appeared to have sounded in the opposite corner of the attic.
He tried to put the sound out of his mind, but he couldn't.
He worked quickly, noting and recording the faults that he found in the roofing.

Again came the sound of creaking, but this time there was also the sound of light laboured breathing.
He held his own breath to assure himself that it wasn't his imagination paying tricks on him.
NO, it was still there! Light husky breathing.
His hands started to shake and the light from the candle wavered across the many items barring his way back to the attic door.
He threw caution to the winds and ran to the door, scattering all before him.
In his haste the candle went out and he flung himself through the open doorway.

Behind him he heard a blood-curdling scream, and he raced down the stairs with his heart pounding like a hammer in his chest.
He reached the ground floor just as the cellar door was flung open wide.
With a scream of terror he grappled with the front door handle. It was stuck-fast.

He pulled and pulled, but it refused to open.
A shadow fell across the door and he turned to face whatever was causing it.
His eyes opened wide in alarm and his heart exploded in his chest.

He fell to the floor, dead.

Kitos.
_________________
Keep it simple ... Keep it interesting.

[SkiIucK]

Shudders...