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The Ottoman

Short story

1,100 word ghost story. 

The Ottoman

Georgette heard the front door creak open and then voices, moving from room to room, shoes clunking on bare floorboards. From the stairs she tried to catch a glimpse of them. It was that time again. Something big was going to happen. What were they doing here? This was her space.

 

From her room she could hear a child running. Was it Thomas coming back to her? She heard doors opened and closed at random, seemingly without reason, busy steps along the hallway. They were getting closer. And there, as the door to her room swung wide, was a small boy, about half her age. He was dressed in strange simple clothes, almost like underwear, and his hair was so short she could hardly see it.

 

‘Is your name Thomas,’ she asked.

The boy shook his head a little shyly. ‘No,’ he said

‘Want do you want then?’

‘Daddy says we’re going to live here. He’s going to buy the house.’

‘He can’t buy it. It’s mine.’

‘Can girls buy houses?’

 

The boy walked to the window and leant against the sill.

 

‘Where’s your mummy and daddy?’ he asked.

‘They’ve moved.’

‘Do you live here on your known? Where’s your bed?’

‘This is my bed.’ Georgette patted the ottoman chest she was sitting on.

There was a shout from below. ‘Darren. Where are you?’

‘That’s my Dad. I’ve got to go.’

 

The boy disappeared out of the room and along the hallway.

 

‘Don’t run away like that. It could be dangerous,’ she heard a man say.

‘I was talking to the girl.’

She heard the man laugh. ‘Stay with me. Don’t keep running off.’

 

Georgette was puzzled. She thought she’d made sure that she would not be disturbed. Since her mother had said goodbye she had seen almost no one. She missed her mother so much. She had to find Thomas before she could see her again. Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of two men’s voices getting closer.

 

‘In here Daddy.’ The boy’s voice broke in. ‘She was in here.’

‘In a minute Darren. Mr Wallace and I are talking.’

 

It was time for Georgette to disappear.

 

She could hear the boy wander into the room again eventually followed by the two men.

‘So where’s this girl then?’

‘I don’t know. She said it was her house. She was dressed all flouncy.’

‘We’ll have to get you off those hamburgers. Too much junk food is getting to you.’

‘She was sitting on this box.’

‘Mr Wallace, what is this trunk doing here anyway? The house is empty otherwise.’

‘It’s an ottoman. It’s always been here apparently. Someone has bolted it to the floor. It would be a simple matter to remove it once you’d moved in.’

‘What a strange thing to do.’

‘Yes, Isn’t it?’

 

Footsteps and voices echoed round the room, faded into the depths of other corridors and finally left her world as the street door slammed shut.

 

Georgette remembered now. They came occasionally to take her home away. And she had to stop them. Her job in life, or was it death? She was confused. She’d been confused ever since that game with her little brother. She’d run to hide while Thomas counted to a hundred. Silly boy couldn’t count that far. He got to ten, said a hundred then ran after her. If it wasn’t for that he wouldn’t have seen her get in to the ottoman. He laughed and locked it. She didn’t know he could do that. She screamed and screamed but Thomas never came back. Mummy and Daddy were in the garden. She was supposed to look after him. It was getting hotter and hotter, more confusing, more tiring. How could she look after him now? He mustn’t go near the pond without her. She remembered how strange it was that once she’d fallen asleep she could see better. Mummy and Daddy shouting, running into the water to pick Thomas up. Then they ran all over the house shouting her name, into the street, calling on neighbours. How many hours before they found her in that box? She couldn’t decide if she was sorry or angry that she hadn’t done her job properly.

 

She had to stay, to find Thomas and look after him. The first people took the ottoman to the stairs and they both fell to the bottom. It was only a little push. They bolted the trunk to the floor then. It was bad luck to touch it she heard someone say. Nobody came for a long time after that. Then there was the lady who she helped open a stuck window. She nearly flew out of the opening that suddenly yawned in front of her. Georgette had almost giggled at the sight. And now she had to deal with some more people. It was all very tiresome.

 

The boy came again in a little while with lots of other people. She could see men bringing in tables, beds, chairs, carpets and curtains. The house bellowed with the sound of it all. The boy ran from room to room shouting and being shouted at, just like when Thomas was naughty. He came to her in a little while.

 

‘Hello Thomas,’ she said.

‘Where did you go? Daddy didn’t believe me.’

‘I hid. Would you like to see where?’

‘My name’s Darren.’

Georgette opened the ottoman. ‘Look, you can get in here and hide.’

The boy walked reticently to the chest and looked inside. ‘It smells funny.’

‘Let’s hide from mummy and daddy. Like I hid from you. You shouldn’t have locked me in Thomas.’

The boy looked doubtful. ‘I never locked you in.’

 

‘It’s big enough for both of us. It will be like our own little house. Look, I’ll get in first and you can follow me. See? There’s plenty of room for both of us.’

 

It was some time before they came searching for him, shouting his name. They came into the room but the boy could not hear. His shirt was wrapped tightly round his neck the other end caught on a protruding screw.

 

‘Lets get rid of this ottoman,’ said the woman. ‘It’s in the way. I don’t suppose we were given a key for this lock were we? There could be something valuable inside.’

 

Georgette decided that the people could stay this time. It didn’t matter any more. Her mother would be so pleased she’d found Thomas again. Now she would never let him out of her sight. Such a pity she had to punish him first for being a naughty boy.

Michael R Chapman
~ master of none ~
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