The backdoor was open letting in a beautiful summer day; there wasn't a breath of wind to stir so much as a blade of grass.  But Sarah wasn’t seeing the beautiful summer day because she was staring in horrified fascination as the coffee mugs, suspended from hooks beneath a shelf, began to sway backwards and forwards in complete unison; their swing becoming ever wider.  Then she shivered as a blast of icy wind blew through the room.  She felt a presence and swung around expecting to find someone standing behind her.  There was no one there… she turned back to find the mugs were now perfectly still and warmth from the summer sun was once more filling the room.

“This house is playing tricks on my imagination” she told herself but giving herself a good mental shake she reapplied herself to the task in hand; that of unpacking her dishes and deciding the optimum place for each piece. She needed

She told herself that the house was starting to affect her imagination, but giving herself a good mental shake, she tried to get back to the task in hand; that of unpacking her dishes and deciding where she should place them. She needed to ensure that all was arranged in her kitchen in its optimum place for convenience and speed, that was the way she was made. Despite her mental reprimands she could not shake off the spooky sensation the incident had invoked, and her mind went back to the day she and Robert had come to view the house.

"We should be able to see the house when we round the next bend," she had told Robert as she studied the map, reading aloud, as she had a million times already, from the realtor's information package sent to them in the mail. 

She laughed, then continued with a touch of irony,” Well we shall soon find out. Reading between the lines I would say it sounds the perfect setting for you to write your new murder thriller!”

Sarah, being a practical woman, was impervious to the flights of fancy indulged in by the promotion literature, but she was drawn to the property from a standpoint of it serving their purpose for the next few years.  When they rounded the bend she saw only a large house, sitting near the edge of a cliff, well designed but badly in need of repair and attention.  Also with relief, she saw that the real estate agent was waiting for them outside the front door.

He appeared to be a friendly, smartly dressed, middle-aged man, as he shook their hands and welcomed them to “Cliff Edge House”.  Following him as he led them from room to room, she enquired as to why the house had been empty for so long and the price so low. "Oh… problems with the will, finding any living relatives - probate - and all that, can take years. It is all settled now and the estate just wants to sell as soon as possible".

He told them the house had belonged to an old sea captain, who had had it built many years before".

He would come here when he was on leave" he continued, "it's believed that he had no family or friends.  When he retired, he lived here permanently. The story goes that he would spend hours watching for passing ships, peering through a large telescope he kept in his bedroom, which naturally faces the sea.  Around 8:00 pm at night, he would wander down to the local pub where he would order a pint of cider. He didn’t say much to anyone and the consensus amongst the locals was that he was a lonely man, very lonely indeed.”

The sun was streaming through the windows which overlooked the ocean, its' rays capturing and highlighting the particles of dust floating in the air, giving them the glamorous appearance of sparkling diamonds, but sadly exaggerating the neglect that permeated every room. Walls covered in dusty wallpapers that exhibited old-fashioned patterns or massive, big flowers! The wood trim in each room limited to drab greens, greys or a faded mushroom beige. Not exactly soul inspiring. The floors though, were solid oak, a warm medium stain that when cleaned and polished would shine with a luminous glow, spreading a sensation of warmth throughout the whole house.

“Oh Lord!” thought Sarah, “I have my work cut out for me for months”.

"This is the master bedroom, take in the breath-taking view" said the realtor as he led them into a large airy room, cheery and warm from the afternoon sun. Its crowning glory the wide semi-circular bay window, which had a view that encompassed the coast for miles to the left and right of the cliff.

As Sarah looked to the window her eyes became drawn to the edge of the cliff and strangely, she felt compelled to look beyond it towards the distant horizon.  She started to glide forward slowly, unresisting, as if an unseen force was pulling her inexorably onward. She was unable to break away from the spell that enfolded her. Robert became aware of her strange manner and trance-like stare. "Sarah?" he exclaimed, puzzled.

She appeared not to hear him for she moved slowly nearer the window; her face now pale and wax like, was bathed in sweat.

"Sarah!" said Robert again, concern making his voice sharper and louder as he reached out to grab her arm.  This time he reached her conscious mind for she jumped then turned towards him, blinking and disorientated. "Whatever is the matter?" he asked.

"I - it was - I - I don't know." was all she could stammer, too bewildered to begin to explain the strange sensation that had taken possession of her. She was beginning to feel foolish and thinking that the whole incident was a heat induced hallucination. Wiping her forehead she gave him a weak smile. "It's very hot in here,” she finished lamely. She couldn’t tell him that the truth was she felt absolutely frozen!

While Sarah was unpacking dishes and musing over the two strange occurrences, Robert was up in the master bedroom attempting to make it habitable for them to sleep in. While cleaning he noticed that the fitted seat in the bay window was a storage place, and curiously he lifted the lid.  It smelt musty and appeared empty. While lowering the lid, he noticed a shaft of sunlight caught and held a small gold object lying in the left-hand corner of the space.  Reaching in to grasp it he discovered that it was a gold locket; tiny, heart shaped.  Intrigued he released the catch to find inside two photos. The left side of the locket held a photo of a man, very handsome, who looked to be in his late thirties and wearing a captain's hat.

"Hmm” thought Robert, “obviously the sea Captain."  Then he looked to the right and gasped as he discovered he was gazing into the face of his wife, Sarah.  "No, it’s not possible, these photos were taken at least forty years ago" he exclaimed.

But the resemblance was uncanny. Recovering from the shock he thoughtfully placed the locket amongst his personal belongings, deciding for the moment not to tell Sarah of his find.

Later that evening, having a drink in the local pub, they introduced themselves to the landlord explaining that they had just moved into Cliff Edge House.

"Oh-ah, bought the old captain's place, eh?" he said with a surprised voice.  "Of course,” now he lowered his voice to conspiratorial level, “you know what ‘appened to him don't you?"  He had a south-west accent that made him sound like Long John Silver, come to think of it, he looked a little like him too, with his long straggly hair and untidy beard, but at least both of his legs were intact!

"Well," he continued as they shook their heads, "the story goes that he were jilted by a beautiful girl, much younger than ‘imself.  ‘e never got over it see! Just lived for the ocean and ships. But when he ‘ad to retire and lived all by ‘imself in that big ‘ouse, well, folks around ‘ere think he became unglued. He committed suicide ‘e did!  He jus’ leapt off the cliff into the waves that were crashin’ on the rocks below!"

As he finished his tale with relish, Sarah could feel the hairs prickling the back of her neck, and one or two other patrons gave a shudder, as they too had heard the Landlord’s disturbing saga!  But the landlord wasn't finished.

"Of course," he continued, "it has been said that the ‘ouse is ‘aunted, but then peoples' imaginations always ‘ave a field day with stories of unnatural death, don't they?" This last was intoned with a strange pitch to his voice and a conspicuous wink.

Robert became very thoughtful and when they returned to the house he showed Sarah the locket. 

"Oh my God that's me!" she exclaimed. "Wait, it can't be." she paused; “Now I remember - my mother's sister! Of course! Mum always said I looked like her, I even have her name. They christened her “Black ewe of the family.”  She smiled then continued, “Got herself pregnant, a no-no in those days, by a circus acrobat -and ran off with him, abandoning the nice steady, older man to whom she was engaged!  That must have been the sea captain. Well, the family disowned her; to this day no one mentions her or has any idea of where she is or what happened to her."

"Poor old soul," she mused, looking at the captain's photo, "if he really did kill himself he obviously never recovered from the heartbreak.  Don't you think it is more likely that he wandered out there maybe in his sleep and just fell over the cliff?"

"No, I don't," Robert said emphatically, "Sarah don't you see a purpose in all this? There is a force in this house that is targeting you. Plus, it seems to be escalating in how it is attacking you.”

"Oh Robert, you always were the fanciful one, I guess that is why you are the writer and I am not," she answered, "This is all just one enormous coincidence, nothing more nothing less."

"Well, I don't agree and I feel that you are in great danger.  Tomorrow we will pack some clothes and go and stay in a hotel, and I intend to pay a visit to the agent who sold us this house."

"That is totally unnecessary," Sarah declared sharply, "we are not about to give in to these tricks of the mind brought about by a lot of silly tales. Now, let’s get some sleep, it's been a long, tiring day." Her tone brooked no further argument, that, and the fact that she leapt into bed, threw the bedclothes around her shoulders, slammed off her bedside lamp and attempted to sleep with her back firmly turned towards him. Robert sighed and followed suit somewhat more slowly. Knowing full well, that with Sarah in this mood, further conversation was pointless.

Next morning after making several phone calls, Robert announced that he had to go somewhere for a few hours.

"I would feel much happier if you would leave here and go to a hotel." he said again.

"No, I will be fine, don't worry. Just do what you must, although you are being very mysterious." she said with a smile.  She watched his car disappear down the hill and round the bend, then applied herself to the task of further unpacking and settling in.

Around three in the afternoon, after working diligently all day, a strange restlessness took over, and she began to wander aimlessly from the kitchen to the living room, then into the garden.  Despite her practical approach to everything she found herself wishing that Robert would come home.

Suddenly she felt herself being pushed from behind, down the garden towards the cliff path.  She twisted and turned, to break free of the steely but invisible grip of whatever or whoever was pushing her slowly but inexorably forward. She could see the cliff edge getting closer; fear took over as she realized the impotence of her struggles and the fact that the intent of the entity was to kill her.  “Come with me, my lovely”, whispered a voice in her ear.

"Wait," she cried, vainly hoping that she could reach through to the spirit, “I am not your Sarah.  Please listen to me!"   Her voice ended on a scream.

"Hector stop!" commanded a voice from behind, "I am the Sarah you want."  At the sound of the voice, the pushing sensation stopped. Sarah was on the edge of the cliff looking down at the rocks below.  She turned to find the young captain of the photo, materialized, staring in disbelief from herself to a woman who was Sarah, but twenty-odd years from now.  Dimly she saw Robert, white-faced, in the background.  

"I am your Sarah," said the older woman quietly, now that she had the ghost's attention, "it is me you should want to destroy, not my niece." At her words, the apparition started to change from a young man to one much older, still handsome but displaying a tanned face riddled with wrinkles. His thick hair was a steel grey and his once tall body was now bent with a pronounced slump.

"Aunt Sarah." whispered Sarah, "you shouldn't have come, you are in great danger."

"I have known for a long time what my final destiny would be,” the older woman replied.   “I tried hard to avoid it by selling Cliff Edge House, which Hector had left to me in his will.  However, I could not have realized that by doing so, I was putting your life in danger”.  She sighed as she continued, “it seems fate will use strange methods to ensure that we follow our allotted paths."  

Her face took on a resigned expression. "Come Hector," she said taking hold of the hand of the old sea captain, "I have no wish to add to your karma by turning you into a murderer."  She turned to Sarah again.  "I only wish we had met under different circumstances my dear, I think we could have been great friends."

So saying, she quickly walked with the sea captain to the edge of the cliff, and before anyone could stop them they leapt, hand-in-hand into the waiting sea.