The Curse.

Chapter 6

The same day that the advert appeared in the newspaper, Dad received a phone call from a person enquiring about the position. He had given the details and had made arrangements for the following day for an interview to take place.

"Well. she sounded ike a very nice lady." He said.

"Let's just hope she is as good as she sounds,"

"We will soon find out."

I begn clearing away our breakfast plates, thinking 'why do I have a bad feeling about this.' But I said 'Do you need me tomorrow, Dad, as I need to go into town, to the college to see about enrolling next year. I'm thinking about studying art and photography."

"You can stay if you want, but I think it I can handle the interview. It would be nice if you were introduced to her, but if you need to go out, you can. Art or photography, eh? I think all the paintings in this house have been getting to you."

"I'll stay long enough to meet her, Dad."

Dad nodded and smiled, and then he did something he hadn't done since I was a child. He walked across the room and gave me a hug.

"I know it's been stressful these past couple of weeks, I just thought I'd give the biggest damn hug I can. You deserve it. I also wanted to tell you that I love you, son."

"Stop it, Dad, you're making me blush, I don't think I'm too old for a hug, and neither are you." Hugging him back and adding. "And I love you too. Dad."

We stood like that, embracing each other for a few minutes until we both broke away smiling.

After we had finished smiling at each like a couple of idiots, he told me that he would be out in the garden, tidying it up and that he guessed where I would be if he needed me.

So, with that said, we parted company and went about our separate ways until that evening. But by that time, we both looked as though we had both been down a coalmine. Dad was covered with dirt, and I was covered with dust and cobwebs.

Over a light dinner, Dad declared that he was going shattered and was heading up for a bath and an early night, I agreed that he indeed did look tired, I also told him that I would clear away everything from dinner and do the same.

"Night. Michael"

"Night. Dad, sleep tight."

"Tight is the word, son. I feel as though I could sleep for a week." He yawned.

"Go on up. Dad." I insisted. Dad didn't need telling twice. I took my time clearing everything away, giving Dad time to settle down for the night. Before, I made my way upstairs myself. We had kept the front door locked all day as neither of us would have heard anyone knocking anyway. So I knew I didn't have to check it.

Normally, I can go straight off to sleep, but tonight, I struggled, tossing and turning until eventually I got up and went downstairs to make myself a cup of hot chocolate. As I padded barefoot along the landing, I could hear my Dad, snoring the night away. I was almost envious of him at that moment.

I made the hot chocolate and was on my way back to bed. When I suddenly stopped on the stairs, had I heard someone call my name, or maybe it was my imagination?( I was tired after all)

'Michael'

There it was again, maybe it was Dad? But I'm sure that he is in bed sleeping like a baby. 's**t!' I thought. Maybe it was him, he's fallen out of bed and can't get up!'

I never thought to put my mug down as I climbed the stairs as fast as I could with it still in my hand, but as I reached the top, I could hear Dad, snoring as loud as ever.

'Michael.' I froze and thought 'No wonder this house was so cheap! It's bloody haunted!'

Michael.' Whatever was calling my name was coming from the left-hand side of the house. But curiousity got the better of me, so I decided to have a look as fear and sleep had packed their respective bags and had gone on holiday!

I walked towards the attic where I thought the sound was coming from.

'Michael. In here. Michael.' I stopped dead in my tracks outside the library, suddenly feeling unsure about what I was doing. 'What is going on?' I asked myself as I opened the door with a nervous apprehension and switched on the lights, illuminating the room. Looking around, I saw nothing out of place until........

'Well. Hello, young man.'

I looked at the painting, and there, instead of a still painting of a man in his study, sitting at his desk, there was the head and shoulders of a man, looking out at me. I rubbed my eyes, not truly believing what I was seeing.

'You are not seeing things, Michael. I am as real as you are.' It said.

"What the hell is happening here?" He held up his hand to stop me.

'First. Let me introduce myself. I am Sir Francis Fairchild, and you are Michael Francis Fairchild, my nephew, though distant.'

"What do you want from me? And why are you here?"

'Take a seat. All will be explained. Please.' He indicated to a chair I had placed in the room. I sat down, finally remembering the mug in my hand. I took a sip, and it was still warm.

"Okay. So explain."

'I have been trapped inside this painting since 1783. My son died in battle three years before, and my dear wife Mary and our second child both died during childbirth to months later. I was cursed as were my descendants.'

"Woah! Stop. What do you mean you and your descendants were cursed?"

"She cursed my entire family, Michael. It was something like 'As from this day forth, all second born children of your entire family, Sir Fairchild, will never see the light of day.' My poor Mary.'

Michael gasped, remembering how his mother and grandmother had both died the same way, and he said so.

"Oh my god. both my mum and grandma died the same way."

'You see. Michael. It has been this way for the past two centuries, and there is nothing I can do. But let me show you something."

He walked away from the forefront of the portrait, revealing the background. His apparent study. Behind the desk, there was a window and a wooden door, which had been securly locked with five or six padlocks.

"What is that?" I asked curiously.

'This is my future. It is the doorway to the afterlife, to be re-united with my family.'

"So what do you want me to do about it? And who the hell is she?"

'I need your help to lift the curse and destroy her, the witch, she, who thrives off the death and destruction of mankind! Please help me, or you will find yourself suffering the same fate as did our past relatives.'

"You still haven't told me who she is, though .All you have told me is that she is a witch. I need more information before I make that decision. Besides, I have my dad to consider."

'Samuel. Your father need not know just yet. I will reveal myself to him when the time comes. She has been around a very long time and has grown stronger with every part of human suffering and disease. But first, you must find his chest in this painting.' He pointed to a chest that situated against the wall next to the padlocked door.

"And just where is this chest?

'The attic.'

" Do you know just how many chests there are upstairs and how long I have spent up there sorting that stuff out and placing things around the house?"