Page 27 of The Haunting of William Thorn

Edward held it up so William could see what was on it.

The alphabet was painted on the board in two lines.

In the top left corner, the word ‘yes’ was painted in bold lettering; on the right, ‘no’ was the same.

At the bottom of the tea-stained board was the word ‘goodbye’, larger than the rest. Moons, stars and the sun decorated the corners of the board, each with ominous smiling faces – the imagery someone would find on a tarot card.

William began to shake. His jaw clenched, stopping the torrent of words building in his throat. Edward didn’t need to explain what he held – William recognised it for what it was the moment it was unfolded. But the shock of seeing such a thing made his blood turn to ice.

“I got it from some new-age shop down in Glastonbury back in my university days. Me and my flatmates thought it would be a fun game, something stupid to do when we were drunk and, I admit, pretty high. The pendulum is missing, but–”

Edward didn’t get to finish. William got off the sofa in a blink, the adrenaline burying the discomfort as he put weight on his ankle. With the sweep of a hand, he knocked the board from Edward’s hands, sending it crashing to the floor.

Hanbury Manor echoed the sound, soaking it in for a beat and then spitting it out as the walls moaned unnaturally.

“Wow, steady there, Mike Tyson,” Edward stammered, rocking back a step as if a clenched fist was coming next. “What the hell was that for?”

Between heavy breaths, William locked his furious eyes upon Edward, feeling like a talon pierced his chest, sinking deep into his lungs. “You just brought a fucking Ouija board into my house!”

William had been warned off messing with the dead, whether he believed in them or not.

He’d seen horror films and heard stories back in secondary school of kids playing around with makeshift boards.

What stuck in his mind was those realistic TV shows of ghost hunters sitting in abandoned castles, pretending to be possessed after conversing with the dead through a Ouija board.

And here one was, in his house.

“I had a feeling it would come in handy,” Edward said, kneeling to pick the board up.

But before his fingers grazed it, William kicked out.

The moment his toe connected with the edge, a pain jolted up his leg.

The force was enough to get it out of Edward’s reach, closer towards the licking flames of the fire.

A plan formed, hot and sharp, in William’s mind. Edward must’ve noticed it, too, because both men fumbled for the board – William to pick it up and throw it in the fire, Edward to stop him.

After some light tussling, Edward won. He held the board behind his back, putting himself in the corner of the room so William couldn’t reach it.

“Would you calm down, Will.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” William hissed like the spitting logs burning the fire beside him. “And don’t call me Will. Ever. You don’t deserve it.”

Edward jutted his chin upwards, broadening already large shoulders to protect his precious Ouija board. “It would seem I’ve struck another cord again. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Upset me? I’m far, far beyond upset.” William stopped fighting, limping back and folding his arms across his chest. In the tussle his glasses had slipped down his nose.

He quickly pushed them back up, struggling as his fingers trembled like leaves caught in a storm.

If he didn’t incapacitate himself, he was sure he’d crack a fist into Edward’s jaw.

“Either you take that board out of this house right now, or you go with it. I don’t care which. But that isn’t staying here.”

“Why?”

The question was simple yet powerful. It cracked into William’s chest, making his heart skip a beat.

“Because – because…” William couldn’t get his words out.

“Because you finally recognise the potential existence of spirits. Once a sceptic, now a believer.”

“Don’t speak for me.”

“Hanbury is haunted,” Edward continued, ignoring William entirely. “That’s why. You’re scared, understandably. Rightfully so, because I’m also shitting myself. But if something, or someone, is here this will help us understand what has angered it enough to stick around.”

Before he replied, William knew that his next words would only confirm what he was still trying to force himself to disbelieve.

Deep down, he knew it didn’t matter, not anymore.

“I’ve seen the movies, Edward. Playing with the dead will only anger them more.

I’ve heard the stories, I’ve read the books.

I don’t need to mess about with this… ghost. I need to get it out of my home.

So, do me a favour, and get it out of my house. Now.”

“I beg you. Just give me a minute to explain.”

The sting of Edward’s choice of words cracked like a whip upon William. He clamped his eyes shut, blocking Edward from view, as another scene played out in his mind.

Rain thundered down beyond the door. Archie stood before him in his red coat, tears of regret blending in with the rain falling upon him.

Archie had said those very words to William the day he was kicked out of their house.

They were the last words he’d ever said before he died – a pleading sentence for an unfinished life.

Soft hands reached for William, jolting him out of the memory.

“Will, I’m sorry.” Edward was so close, there was no denying his sincerity. “I didn’t mean to upset you, truly. I’ll take the board away, forget I ever showed you.”

Sorrow formed between his brow in wrinkled lines.

Up this close, there wasn’t a detail spared.

William could count the dark freckles across Edward’s sharp nose and noticed a scar that nicked the top of his right cheekbone.

The slight swelling of his lip from the punch earlier.

It was almost the right distraction, but there was something burning in William that he had to say.

“My name is William,” he managed, fists still balled and poised. “Call me Will again and you’re gone. I’m serious.”

Heavy silence thrummed between them, weighing down like an unmoving pressure.

When Edward didn’t reply, William added. “Am I clear?”

Edward’s gaze roamed across William’s face, drinking him in. Was he also memorising the details? Soaking them in, just as William had with his?

“Yes. Crystal clear.”

Both men parted, the tension catching between them like a rope pulled taut. There was nothing else William had to say to him. He turned, wobbling slightly as the pain returned to his ankle, and made a move for the door.

“Where are you going now?” Edward called after him.

“To bed.”

“But you haven’t eaten,” Edward said as if that was a serious matter.

“Surprisingly, I don’t have an appetite,” he lied.

His stomach was in knots. Food was required, yes. But so was wine. However, he planned to wait in his room for Edward to retire to bed, then go back downstairs to satisfy his needs once he was out of the way.

William didn’t even think about ghosts as he struggled up the first couple of stairs. He was hyperaware that Edward was behind him, watching from a careful distance, likely toying with the idea of offering his help. That’s all his mind could focus on.

“Wait,” Edward shouted just as William rounded the first landing.

William paused. He didn’t look back, only clutched onto the banister for support as he waited for whatever Edward had to say.

The question that followed wasn’t what he expected.

“Would you like me to sleep in your room tonight, or should I find another one to stay in?”

Warmth flooded William’s cheeks. He almost laughed at the question, knowing the answer was simple. But actually, it wasn’t. Because as William opened his mouth to tell Edward to find another room, a different answer came out. “My room.”

“Okay.” Edward mumbled to himself. “Your room it is.”

William was glad his back was to Edward because otherwise, he would’ve seen the embarrassment in the widening of his eyes and the silent ‘fuck’ he mouthed to himself.

Regardless of his anger towards Edward, William knew, with everything that happened, he didn’t want to sleep alone.

He told himself it was because of the sleepwalking, but he knew the answer was far more sinister.

Neither man said anything else. William slipped into the room and closed the door, wondering how long it would take for Edward to follow him in. He hoped he had some time, because William had a date with another man. Someone formed of ink on paper.

If Robert Thomas’s spirit lingered in Hanbury Manor, William wanted answers as to why.