You are like a ray of sunshine in my gloom.

Marc had been suffering with manic depression for as long as he could remember. It was not surprising really, when you consider that his mother had been found drowned in the bath and his father unable to live without her had hung himself from the loft hatch.
That had been many years ago now. Marc had made a new life for himself in the London district of Soho. Only occasionally going back to “that” house to visit his sister Sarah from time to time, always with a sense of dread and fear which would lead to further bouts of depression. He hid it well of course, those who knew him on the London gay scene had absolutely no idea how he really felt inside and such was his ability to hide his true feelings. Pumped constantly full of happy pills he kept his dark thoughts and nightmares well hidden from his friends and colleagues. Always going home alone and falling to pieces.
The reoccurring dreams he had tormented him almost daily, his only comfort being a bottle of cheap Gin and Bette Davies movies. The only reason he ever went back to that house was to see his sister.

Sarah had of course been trying to find somewhere else to live but with the ever increasing population things had only become more difficult and the waiting list for Council accommodation was getting longer by the day, with at least a five year wait.
She thought of getting herself pregnant and becoming a single mother to boost her chances but had too much respect for herself and knew that she would be a terrible mother anyway. Such was her pain and anguish. The trauma of being pregnant in a haunted house would be far too distressing. The ghostly presence of her parents could be felt constantly. The house always seemed to be cold and odd things would happen. Like the time she awoke one morning to find her mother’s shoes removed from the black bag that she had put them in. Only to find them lined up in a row underneath the windowsill. Quite often in the early hours of the morning doors would slam and the loft hatch would crash open. Her parents were not resting in peace and this constant terror had turned her into a complete nervous wreck. She looked a state, overweight and unwashed due to the fact that she was too frightened to use the bathroom. Thankfully there was a toilet downstairs but washing in the sink in the upstairs bathroom was a daily strain she could well do without and she could not bring herself to get into the bath. The closed shower curtain always kept that out of sight. Except to say that every morning she would always find it opened. A daily reminder of her mother’s tragic death.
Sarah did not work. She couldn’t. Her doctor had signed her off from her job at the local shop along time ago; her nerves had been shattered so much that she could not possibly work. Her day revolved around the television set and little else. She was mad at Marc who she felt had run away and left her to face this daily melancholy on her own. His rare visits did not do much to ease the pain. In fact it only left her angrier every time he left.
Next time would be different she thought. She knew that she could never move on with her life all the time she remained in the house so had made up her mind that she would insist that Marc took her back to London with him. He owed her that much she thought. His life was glamorous and exciting, so he had always told her. Now she wanted a part of that. Sarah had dreamt of loosing weight and regaining her confidence and moving on. She wanted to forget the past and to move amongst the living to leave these tortured souls behind her and begin again. Only then would the nightmares go away.

Marc had always found it extremely difficult to form relationships, so when Robert came into his life he really wanted things to be different. Robert had been unlike the others. Not just after a one night stand and had shown genuine interest in him. The telling sign had been when Robert had casually mentioned that he saw a pensive sorrow in his eyes. Nobody else had seen that. Such was his ability to cover up his true feelings. It had been late one night after they had made love together that they had spent the whole night talking. Robert showing a genuine interest in what he had to say. This of course had been a revelation for Marc also, as he had always bottled his true feelings up. Being held in Robert’s arms crying his heart out, revealing his inner pain to someone other than his sister had been an incredible breakthrough for him and Robert was genuine with his care. Completely unlike anybody else he had ever met before.
Robert and Marc eventually built up a beautiful relationship together and for the first time in his life Marc felt genuine happiness and temporarily forgot his sombre feelings. They had trust. Only slept with each other and Marc found that he was experiencing genuine love. It was a wonderful, life changing experience. Their love making would last for hours. They would go to the theatre regularly to see the West End musicals, dine in lavish restaurants and become well known on the scene for their luxuriant lifestyle and happiness. This was of course the London gay scene and of course many a bitter and twisted old queen would try and tear them apart. Making up stories of infidelity and backstabbing any way they could. Fortunately both Marc and Robert were wise to this and a lot stronger than the rancid old queens gave them credit for. Things went on this way and the lonely old queens never gave up trying to split them up.

Then one afternoon the mood changed when Marc received a phone call from his sister. She had told him that she needed to see him urgently and would not go into details over the phone. Therefore he had to go and visit that sombre house once more. This of course brought his mood back down and he began to feel depressed once more. Robert had come bounding in from work to find Marc curled up on the sofa knocking back the Gin, crying his eyes out. After Marc had explained to him what was wrong. Robert had told him that he would be more than happy to go along with him. Back to his suburban house where the rich vein of sadness ran very deep.

Sarah was of course delighted after Marc had telephoned her to let her know that he would be bringing his boyfriend with him. This she felt would make things easier for her if somebody else was there. He could therefore be brought round to her way of thinking as well and make it easier for her to convince Marc that she simply had to leave this bleak house once and for all and that he was her only hope of freedom and happiness.

The week soon passed and Marc and Robert arrived with somewhat trepidation. Robert was feeling more nervous than he would care to let on, not wanting to make Marc feel any worse than what he would undoubtedly be feeling. Even the look of the house had given him the creeps. It was exactly what he had pictured. Just like in the Horror films, where there was a relatively normal looking street and amongst the houses was a run down ram shackled old place where the Bogeyman lived. Was he just about to step into A Nightmare on Elm Street? He pondered secretly to himself. His heart sank as they crossed the threshold and made there way to the front door.
Robert was quite surprised that the front door did not creak and apart from the house being extremely dirty from first impressions all seemed quite normal. Although he had noticed that as soon as he had stepped into the house that the atmosphere was dank and heavy. A cold chill swept over him that made him shudder with dread and apprehension.
The living room was filthy, no attempt had been made to tidy up and the whole room stank like an old ash tray. The curtains were closed even though it was still daylight outside and the melancholy seeped its way into Robert who immediately started to feel an ominous sense of alarm. The house was like a tomb. Marc sat there not saying a word staring at the floor until Sarah returned with three cups of coffee.

The moment that they had all feared was now upon them. Bedtime! The old spare room was now kept locked and besides neither of them wanted to spend the night in a room where Marc’s father had hung himself. They all knew that the dead were amongst them and prepared themselves for bed with some disquiet premonition of foreboding terror.
The talk had gone better than Sarah had expected. Marc who had now found genuine happiness was in a better frame of mind, even though that had been temporarily quashed by the house he was of course happier and he and Robert had agreed that Sarah needed to get away from this constant decay and begin life again in London. It had worked for Marc now that he had Robert and he felt sure that London could turn Sarah’s life around for the better too.

Marc and Robert slept in the living room on the sofa bed. (Underneath the bathroom!) The hall light was left on as Sarah would never have the house in darkness, even though she would never open the curtains, the lights never went out. Sarah being used to the house slept relatively well in her room but Marc and Robert were wide awake cradling each other in their arms, talking too scared to even think about sleeping, both wishing the night away so that the three of them could leave in the morning. It had been decided that Sarah should just up and leave and not even bother to let the Council know of her departure. So desperate was she to get away.

The clock ticked away and Robert and Marc lay wide awake as they listened to the dead roaming the house. Doors slammed, floorboards creaked and they heard chairs being scraped on the wooden floor in the locked spare room almost above them. Robert of course was completely freaking out. Marc comforting him trying in vane to reassure him that the ghosts never harmed anybody it was just their tormented souls unable to rest.
Marc looked at their digital clock to determine how long it would be before daybreak. The time was 2.22am. Silence had prevailed for quite some time until suddenly a mordant howl came from the bathroom and the sound of running water could be heard. Marc knew that the bath had not been used since that tragic day his mother had been drowned and obviously Sarah would not be bathing at this time of night anyway. Something was amiss. Sarah had been woken by the howling and being scared had got up to see if the boys were all right. Her door was locked; she could not get it open. She tried frantically to get it open. It was completely stuck. All she could hear was the sound of running water and screaming followed by an almighty crashing sound as though half of the house had come down. Trying the door again she found it unlocked this time and with a feeling of dread slowly went out into the hallway. The bathroom door was open revealing nothing but a hole in the floor. She screamed and then became hysterical as she looked through the gaping hole.

The entire bathroom had caved in and had fallen down, killing Marc and Robert instantly. The living room now a wet and bloodied scene of death and carnage.
As Sarah looked at the bathroom wall her horror excelled as there written in blood on the wall were the words “You’ll NEVER leave”

Sarah went back to her bedroom and as though in a trance sat calmly on her bed and took her Nembutal tablets one by one. It only took twenty two for the fatal dose.
She now lay there dead amongst the exquisite gloom.

Her parents were now happy. As they could not rest in peace, neither now could their children………………………..