Edith Malory knows she is dead. She has known for a long time, though exactly how long eludes her. Edith knows she can stay from the boundaries of the house where she died, but when she does her memory becomes increasingly foggy and she gets lost. It terrifies her, the idea of losing all she was, so she stays close to the house. There are worse places to spend eternity.
Edith has seen many people come and go from the home. Loving families. Young couples. A group of academics. It has been a joy to watch them grow, argue, love, and leave. She could tell you a thousand tales of all the events that have unfolded within these old walls.
In life, Edith Malory inherited her late husband's vast fortunes and spent the rest of her days giving charitably to the poor. It was well known in the village that Edith was fond of taking in young boys and girls whose families could no longer care for them, and raising them in her own house. She even built a little school house in the extensive back garden, where she educated the boys and girls on good manners and how to arrange a proper household.
The school house stands, albeit disused. It remains sealed with the rusted iron padlock that Edith applied when she closed the school house down. It has stayed that way ever since.
Not that people haven't tried to get in. Curious minds make curious eyes and hands wander over the old brick building and through it boarded windows.
Edith can make them hear her, see her and, sometimes, feel her. Only through a concerted effort that leaves her exhausted. She does it rarely. She doesn't make herself known when they stay in the house, or in the garden.
But as soon as an inhabitant starts to wander around the school house, a dark mood overtakes Edith. A black cocktail of fear and rage. She can't remember what it is about the school house which makes her drive the lovely people from her home. She only knows that there's something under the floor she can't let any of them see.
Paddy Dobson
31st October 2022