It's Oh So Quiet (standard:horror, 4314 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jul 03 2002	Views/Reads: 4460/2582	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An elderly man is terrorised by his new neighbours. A ghostly tale.

Sam Dougan passed the sweets among the joyous children, as the bus
crawled slowly along the wintry, cold seafront of Scarborough. Sam, 
even at the mellow age of seventy, was still chirpy, and was an 
energetic character loved by all. All that is except his neighbours, 
the Lewis family. 

In another age or era, the parents of the children would not have given
this old man a second glance, but it was not another era. It was the 
age of paedophiles and child murders. 

The parents kept a suspicious eye on the old man who was dressed as
Santa Claus. His natural laugh was an asset to his job. Sam loved 
everyone, and children in particular. With his kind face, he was an 
obvious choice as a store Santa. Although his eyes were wrinkled, they 
still retained the alluring sparkle, just as they did when he had first 
met Mary. 

Sam had retained a false show of happiness over the last
thirty-two-years, even though his bride of twenty-years was no longer 
with him. His one regret was that they never had children. Mary was 
only thirty-eight years old when her maker beckoned her, and Sam blamed 
himself for her death. Mary had no need to work, as Sam made a decent 
living with his fishing boat, but she was an independent woman. 

Twelve people had been killed in the factory blaze. Sam often visited
the waste ground where the factory once stood. Roger Dyson, the owner 
of the factory, was fined a measly four-thousand pounds for not having 
sufficient fire exits in the building. The cause of the fire was never 
disclosed. 

Mary was no longer with him in body, but he cherished her company in the
evenings when listening to his beloved radio. He had only ever 
mentioned her presence to one other person, Father Braithwaite, his one 
true friend. The priest accepted his friend's aspiring imagination, 
believing that Sam's loneliness and his senility were to blame for the 
fiasco. 

Their friendship came about through Sam's help with the church, and his
endless charity work. Sam was a popular figure in Scarborough. The 
black bereted veteran would march through the streets come sun or rain, 
his arms swinging parallel to his shoulders, his wartime memories still 
fresh in his mind. The cruel children mocked his military march, but 
Sam played along to them, smiling and patting their heads, and handing 
out his never-ending reserve of sweets from the deep pockets of his 
tatty, green trench coat. 

Everyone who knew Sam believed him to be happy, but his permanent smile
hid his anguish. He had never truly recovered after Mary's death. Her 
nightly visits should have heartened him, but his frail mind was in 
conflict with evil. 

Sam never allowed visitors to his home, and nobody had stepped over his
doorstep since Mary had died. He at one time was financially secure; 
not affluent, but comfortable. His monthly pension and his wages from 
his part time work should have left him with enough money for luxuries 
such as meat and fish, but that was no longer so.. The Lewis family had 
put paid to that. 

Sam loved to work. He often was seen knocking on doors, asking folk if
they wanted their lawns cut, or their borders dug. Everyone was aware 
of his work, but he was never reported to the authorities; mainly 
because he charged so little, and he was well liked. 

The children waved at Santa and their mothers offered him a half smile,
whispering to one another, as they left the bus. 

Sam was now alone on the bus. Outside the snow was falling lightly, the
light white flakes covering the grey pavements, as if to cleanse their 
corruptness. The sky was grey, and the possibility of another white 
Christmas did not hearten the white-haired old man. He stared at his 
reflection in the bus window and pondered, recalling that dreaded day 
twelve months ago, when the Lewis family had moved in. 

Just four days to Christmas and Sam and the merry carol singers were in
good voice. Their icy breath was visible, evidence of the cold air that 


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