FOOTSTEPS ON THE STAIRS

'He's such a fool,'said one sister
'Dear Daddy's really off his head.
This life is all we are given.
No one comes back from the dead.'
Two cynical sisters making their parents bed.
Laughing at their father and the things he said.
Well, their father was my Uncle Sid.
Eccentric maybe, in his beliefs,
And the things he did.
A spiritualist and a healer, formed his main beliefs.
He often declared on seeing the apparitions of the deceased.
A local man killed on the road, 20 yards away or thereabouts.
And the phantom of the old man; the previous tenant of his house.
The shades and shadows of the folks from yesterday.
Like the living, he would see wondering his way.
'You know Pauline?'said Dorothy,'Our Dad's completely mad.
Don't you think what he claims to see, makes him really sad?'
Their mum had asked them to do her a favour,
On making their own beds, would they do hers and dad's bed too?
After a mild protest, this is what they agreed to do.
So they weren't surprised to hear footsteps ascending the stairs.
Only their mum, Auntie Minnie, checking on their progress,
Why should they then turn a hair?
They therefore persevered with the pillow punching,
And the laying of the sheets.
Continued their silly banter, when the footsteps,
Onto the top landing they reached.
Now they heard the footsteps behind them, you may guess the rest.
They turned, thinking it would be mum they'd greet.
My God!you could say they were somewhat scared.
The steps had stopped behind them,
But on turning,no other living soul was there.
Dorothy stood frozen to the spot within the room,
Whilst Pauline literally fell down the stairs.
Was it a ploy, a ruse, to avoid doing a such a menial task?
But never again would the girls, enter the bedroom in the back.
All I can relate is the story was told as a fact,
Or was it meant to be a ghost story, perhaps?
Told by my Aunt and Uncle in the 50's, now long ago,
as they told the story to my parents and myself,
In the autumn's deepening twilight,
Around the fireside glow. 

Author's Note. I can verify this story as I met Cousin Dorothy the day after
writing this which led to some mirth. She asked, 'Do you think it
could have been a mouse?' I replied, 'It must have had bloody big
boots on then'.            . 

 

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