My Story
It was on the occasion of my son's seventh birthday that we had all come out to the country to visit my family. You can see my father holding the youngest in the picture to the right. My father gave the children a pony and life was grand.

I knew something was wrong as we arrived.
There was no noise.
No light.
No wisp of smoke from the chimney.

The men ordered me to remain with the horse, which had gone skittish. William and Uncle Geoff went inside. The scene was one of utter horror.

Every occupant of the haus was dead. They lay cold and pale in their beds, fully dressed, except for my parents, who sat in the parlor, teacups still in their hands. The inquest put the deaths down to poison from the coal in the fireplace. I know better. It had been a warm night and no fire had been lit.

William and I returned to London to mourn, Uncle Geoff stayed to prepare the property for sale.
I do not know if it was grief from the loss of the children, or some other ailment that struck my dear William, but his mind became unseated. It proceeded by small degrees, until he was committed, one year to the day, on the anniversary of the deaths.
I returned then to Drakesheath, unable to bear living in our London house. I sold it and most of the furnishings.

My Uncle Geoff had a queer accident, just before my return. He was on the roof, repairing a shingle that had come loose in a storm. Witnesses said he appeared to have gotten turned round and simply walked off the roof, falling to his death, two stories below.

I have returned now to my family home. But I am not alone. The spirit of my mother, Anna has come to me. She is teaching me to unlock the family gift of speaking with the spirits. Soon, I will have my family back again.

Photos are family photos cropped and edited by me.