The haunting of 34 poplar ridge

About the author and series.

This book is part of a series, written by IP Spall, consisting of 22 short stories in total. To find out more about this book series or any of IP Spall’s other publications, head to https://linktr.ee/ipspallbooks

Many of these short stories are free, and if you enjoy reading this book, you can even buy a total collection of all the short stories for a low price! Follow the link above to find out more.

This story can be found on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/2zjM3s7

An uncomfortable foreword

It has been said that a series of short stories must emanate unexpectedness and a sense of chilling surprise. Such a collection of stories would require a character framework that is present throughout the whole book; from tale to tale, offering the reader a chance to relate to the individual characters — their pain, their horror, their paranoia. Such a collation would also contain an underlying subplot, so all of the stories connect and relate to one another, in a weblike manner, allowing each entry to follow on from the last with some continuity, while still retaining individuality.

I gave this some thought and decided to do the complete opposite. For me, each story should be read as an individual tale of terror, and certainly not as a collective.

Each of my short stories should evoke thought, emotion, and hopefully, leaves the reader wondering what the hell happens next. Let’s face it; not everyone looks for a happy ending in the stories they read. With this in mind, let your imaginations run wild, and enjoy the unpredictability; often an uncomfortable ride.

The haunting of 34 poplar ridge

In the early hours of the morning, during the Christmas holiday season, the whole house was abruptly woken up to the sound of smoke alarms ringing throughout the house. Woken with a start, he lay there for a few seconds, trying to identify which room’s alarm was screaming out. He sat up in bed instantly, now worried.

“Get up. Everyone gets up” Mark shouted as he went straight into panic mode, quickly getting out from under the duvet. He ran towards the top of the stairs, where he saw smoke was slowly climbing up the staircase; the smell of burning then followed, sharp and pungent, and quite unfriendly. “We can’t go down there,” Mark said to himself. His heart sank; he instinctively ran to the girl’s room, where he picked his daughter, little Tina, picking up straight out from under the covers. Still half asleep, he stole her from the room and ran back to his bedroom. Ellie, his wife, was already up. She had moved over to the window, where she was in the process of opening it. The window was their escape route, as it led out onto the low roof of the veranda; they then had to get down the trellis to ground level. Their daughter was scared, now crying. Mark took her straight over to the window while Ellie climbed out. Mark then gently passed her through the window out to her mum, clamping onto her tightly.

Mark took a few steps back and grabbed his phone from beside the bed. He then launched himself out onto the veranda roof. Ellie was waiting to one side, so Mark jumped straight down, about two or three metres, to Ellie’s horror. Somehow, maybe in sheer panic, he managed not to hurt himself, instead of was at the bottom of the trellis, ready and waiting for Tina.

As Ellie moved across the grass, Mark phoned the Fire Brigade, as an orange glow started to emerge from inside the house. Ellie and Tin were crying openly, while Mark just stood there at a loss, crying inside. These were their first house after they got married, they were very proud of it, so to now potentially lose everything, was ust ja horrific thought.

From the lawn at the front of the house, they could see smoke billowing out of the basement windows, shortly accompanied by the sound of things snapping and breaking inside. As the fires raged inside the house, they relocated themselves to the back of the driveway. Within minutes, the Fire Service arrived and instantly went straight to work, attacking the fire at the source.

Tina and Ellie were put into a cab, as the second fire truck arrived; the driver took them away from harm, off to her mother’s house, a few miles away. Mark pulled aside and questioned, but as they were all in bed asleep, at the time when the alarms went off, it was apparently an electrical fault at play, or so they thought. The Firemen broke their way into the basement, where they were surprised to find just a small but intense fire burning at the back of the cellar. The burning produced a large amount of smoke, but the actual fire wasn’t that big. They proceeded to quickly and easily extinguish the flames, opening the large patio doors that ran along the side of the house. It wasn’t long before the smoke cleared out of the room, leaving a clear image of the actual damage the fire had caused. In the far corner, a black charcoaled circular shape encompassed the whole edge of the room, but weirdly, it was only that area and nowhere else, which even the Fire crew thought was a little strange. A large brown leather reclining seat, which had been handed down through the family was at the very heart of the fire; it had been an unwanted heirloom passed down. Neither of them likes it much, and they would indeed not have accepted it if they knew it would cause a fire — the substantial black shroud of charcoal now surrounding its precise location, both on the floor, the walls and the ceiling directly above it. Standard procedure dictated that the evidence suggested that someone was smoking in the chair, probably falling asleep with a cigarette in their hand, which in turn ignited the fabric.

Mark, and Ellie when questioned, both categorically claimed that neither of them had been in the cellar for the whole week, if not longer. They both swore that neither of them smoked and that no one in their extended families smoked. The position of the old chair in the cellar was also in a corner that had no electrical points. It was a mystery as to how it caught fire. The chair was in the corner, on its own, and for the life of him, Mark really couldn’t think of any reason why or how it had set it alight. The more thought he gave it, the less sense it made. There were no other pieces of furniture nearby, and certainly no electrical sockets or light fittings.

The Fire Department had given the family the ‘all-clear’ to move back into the house, a few days later. Ellie got Tina settled in for the night, as the rooms upstairs had little fire or smoke damage. It was too late to investigate them, so Mark and Ellie also went to bed, knowing they’d have a lot of mess to clear up the following day. In the morning, Mark went down to the basement to see the mess himself. The whole room seemed to have a smoky gloss about it, so the first thing he did, was to open the large patio doors, letting the fresh air and sunlight in. He knew that it wouldn’t clean the room, that would be something he’d have to do, but Mark thought it might help. The strong and pungent smell of the fire, quickly dissipated, which was good, as it was still strong enough to make him gag a little.

The basement resembled a typical basement, half full of stuff which looked like it had been down there for years; a mass of storage boxes, racking and baby toys which Tina no longer wanted, now that she had grown up. It was when he walked over to the other side that he saw a large circular patch of a blackened patch of burnt, charcoaled remnants of the armchair. Mark just stood there and looked; the shape of the burns marks was quite bewildering. The fact that it hadn’t spread any further or caused any more damaged than it did was indeed very fortunate.

The chair was ruined, only good for throwing out. The whole thing was thick with charcoal and looked like it would collapse if anyone tried to touch it. So after Mark found a thick pair of work gloves, he set himself the task of removing all remnants of the horrible chair. He leant down and put his hands under the mass of springs, picking it up from underneath. There wasn’t much weight to it, as it no longer had the thick matted cushions that were about a hundred years old. Somehow he managed to carry out of the doors, all the way over to the back of the car. It stank; as he walked, the fumes started to chew away at his nostrils. He just kept thinking to himself how pleased he was too finally get rid it, once and for all, especially as he never really wanted it in the first place.

When he returned, he went straight back to the site of the fire, noticing that there simply wasn’t anything else there, it was just a blackened circular shape, that encompassed the size of the chair. It was all bizarre, but regardless of his feelings or thoughts, it had to be cleared up. He grabbed a broom, shovel and bucket and went back to start, but as he did, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right; his gut was trying to tell him something. For a moment, he stood there and looked, but as nothing was untoward, he just got on with the clean-up.

After clearing away everything on the floor, he started on the wall that had been behind the chair. It was then that he noticed a small crack in the brickwork, just above the height of the seat’s position. Under a thick layer of black charcoal, he hadn’t initially noticed it before. He stepped into the blackened circle to take a closer look, and upon inspection, realised that the brickwork had suffered some severe damage, with some of the bricks crumbling at the slightest touch. He reached up and grabbed one, moving from side to side, gently persuading it to come out. The bricks themselves seemed very big, far larger than conventional bricks that are used for standard brickwork.

As he eased it out, he let it fall to the floor: a strong, pungent, foul smell blasted out of the hole. It pushed Mark back, making him fall onto his behind. He looked up, but there was nothing to see; the small made him nauseous, as he felt his eyes water a little.

“What the hell was that?” he said to himself, sitting, looking. After a second, the gust of air vanished; Mark sat up and decided to have a look, although when he raised himself up, he couldn’t see anything but darkness.

Mark then realised that the fire had done more damage to his cellar than he first thought. He grabbed the brick that was next to the hole and again started to manipulate it to come out. Again, it took a bit of time and effort, but it also fell, creating a bigger, wider hole. Intrigue then got to Mark; he tried a third brick, then a fourth, and kept going until he had a hole about half a metre wide and deep. He then stopped, knowing that he had to find a torch. He removed his gloves and went to look, but then something strange happened. An unseen wind, or breeze, seemed to flow past him, ruffling his hair, brushing against his face. It took him by shock, as he lent back. He couldn’t see anything, and visually, his eyes seem to follow something around the room. The hairs on his neck again stood up, and he had an eerie feeling of uncomfortableness. His gut was telling him to leave, but his intrigue was telling him to go and get the torch. He looked around the room, but he couldn’t see anything, so he ignored his gut and went over to a box, next to the staircase, knowing that the torch was inside.

As he walked back, he felt uneasy again; he sauntered back, looking directly into the darkness that stared out at him. He had to know what was in there, even though he now felt quite fearful about it all. He proceeded to shine it directly into the black void. It wasn’t long before he realised that he had gained a hidden room, somewhere he didn’t know existed. As he shone the torch in, he got closer to the entrance of the hole, staring directly into the black void, not knowing what to expect. As the seconds passed, he was feeling more and more uncomfortable, a little sick, in-fact. The torch didn’t yield any results; all he could see was an untouched brick wall, at the back of the room.

His intrigue didn’t let go of him; it wanted more. He took a short walk back to the staircase, where he returned with a sledgehammer. The wall was its victim, as Mark attacked it hard, smashing the hole to make it much more significant.

Eventually, it was big enough to stop, as the sunlight penetrated the thick dark air that had been trapped in there for who knows how long. There wasn’t anything in there, no furniture or exit points, just rough, untouched brickwork. Mark did notice a few things, though; there were a few strange circular drawings, marked out in what looked like chalk. Strange symbols that drawn onto the walls from inside. There was also a piece of timber that lay on the stone floor; there were some extremely faint, hardly noticeable, symbols again, scratched into the surface of the wood.

Mark felt a little let down by it all. He thought that he might find the treasure or an age-old skeleton at the very least, but instead, he discovered a small room full of dirt and a piece of old wood.

He eventually gave up and walked away, thinking it was just another crappy DIY job that would need to be sorted out at some point. As he tidied up, he heard a welcome voice at the staircase.

“Hey, did you find anything down there?” Ellie asked enthusiastically as he appeared at the basement door.

“Nothing… well I say that there is a small room down there which we didn’t know about, just behind where the fire was”

“Oh yeah, is there anything in it that started the fire?” Ellie enquired.

“No’p, nothing, it was just a tiny rectangular room that’s empty. It just means the clean-up will now take twice as long,” Mark added, sighing a little.

“So you didn’t find out how the fire started?”

“No, there wasn’t anything there at all, it must have been the chair somehow?” he added.

“Which was now by the car? I’ll have to take it down to the refuse centre later; you’ll be glad to know. I’ll see if Josh can come round tomorrow, to help me sort it all up,” he continued, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. Ellie chuckled. Apart from a phone call to his friend, followed by a call to work, stating his time off would need to be extended a bit more, he was done with it all. He now had a lot on his mind, so he shut the patio doors before he went upstairs and locked the cellar door to the house.

Ellie went back to the kitchen, while Tina sat watching TV. Mark sat on the couch and zoned out, half watching the kids programs, deep in thought, when suddenly, he smelt the same horrible and putrid smell that had escaped through the brickwork downstairs. Whatever it was, it was now in their front room. He quickly looked up and around the room but like before, but he couldn’t see anything abnormal.

“Can you smell that?” he said, looking at Ellie, who was still milling about in the kitchen.

“Urgh, yeah, what’s that stink?” she added, as she stopped mid-flow. Tina also stopped and looked at her dad, pulling a sour face.

“I think it’s the same smell that I found down in the basement,” Mark said, looking puzzled. It was a warm putrid smell, which made everyone feel quite ill. Then, before anything else could be told, the basement door flung open with such force that it fell off its hinges, making every jump. A giant dark mass of something blasted out of the doorway. Ellie ran over to Tin, while Mark stood up, preparing himself for who knows what.

“Quick, take Tina outside” he shouted. They both ran, with little hesitation.

Then, unexpectedly, they felt a ground tremor below them, it was so strong that the very foundations of the house rocked, this was accompanied by what he felt a deep and menacing groaning sound.

“What the hell is that?” Ellie said, with Tina in her arms, near the front door. Tina started crying; they were all terrified. Mother and daughter then left the building, leaving Mark, standing in the middle of the front room. The shaking and groaning continued, almost as if something colossal was directly below the house, something of immense size, and something that was angry. Mark didn’t know what to do; he manoeuvred himself over to the kitchen. The big glass chandelier that sat above the couch, suddenly dropped to the floor, smashing glass everywhere. Mark grabbed the kitchen counter, in fear, just standing there watching the events unfold. He was shaking, scared, and everything inside of him was telling him to run.

Then the fireplace, which generally put out a small amount of heat, suddenly and briefly turned into a roaring inferno, pushing an extended arm of flames across the room. Mark found himself, pushed against the kitchen cabinets, fearful and in disbelief. The fire retracted as quickly as it came, but it certainly scared the hell out of him.

Mark ran for the door, but as he went, the cups and plates from the kitchen cupboards started to fly across the room, seemingly aimed towards him as he fled. As he reached the door, another much louder and deeper groan shook the building. Mark fell out of the doorway, spying Ellie and Tine in the garden. Stumbling, as he lost his footing, he rushed over to where they were. His family stopped and looked back at home as he caught his breath.

The house shook again, so powerful that they could see it from outside. Windows cracked and so did the walls, as they all watched a large fissure appear by the front door. It ran from the ground, all the way up to the roof.

The inside of the house then suddenly darkened, as had blackened out the windows. Areas of exterior paintwork started to tarnish and discolour, especially around the windows and doors frames.

“Oh my god, what the hell is going on?” Ellie said, almost at the same time, mark spoke.

“What the ….” he said, at the same time a giant black cloud of something unknown, twisted and turned chaotically amongst itself, inside the house. Few of the last remaining windows that they could see through, something nightmarish moved around the house. It was something unnatural and very unsettling. They all felt its presence and the evil it portrayed. Something strange and abnormal had taken over their home, running amok, destroying everything they held dear.

Their neighbours then came into their garden, feeling the isolated tremors and noises. They had taken it upon themselves to call the Police, who arrived only minutes later. They all just watched on; not even the Police wanted to venture closer. Strange and unbelievable, everyone felt the presence of the menacing force within the house; it sent a bolt of fear down everybody’s spine. No one was brave enough to go anywhere near the front door.

After a while, Mark instructed Ellie to take Tina back to her parents. Mark and seemingly the whole neighbourhood, let alone the emergency services, all just watched on, for the next few hours. In their first, beautiful home they had brought together; Christmas was cancelled.

The house was eventually left abandoned. It remained that way for many years to come. Even the demolishing companies wanted no part of it, so it just sat, slowly rotting away.

About the author and series.

This book is part of a series, written by IP Spall, consisting of 22 short stories in total. To find out more about this book series or any of IP Spall’s other publications, head to https://linktr.ee/ipspallbooks

Many of these short stories are free, and if you enjoy reading this book, you can even buy a total collection of all the short stories for a low price! Follow the link above to find out more.

This story can be found on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/2zjM3s7