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A Night in Wolfe Manor

Wolfe Manor stood high on top of a hill in the village of Ballymahon. It had stood there for as long as anyone could remember, but no one now living in the village could remember anyone ever having occupied it. It had always been a dark, gloomy and imposing building. When the sun shone down on Ballymahon, it somehow always seemed to bypass the manor. It was as if even the mighty sun was too scared to disturb the creepy peace and quiet of the mansion and its sprawling, untended grounds.

Unusually for an abandoned building, no windows had ever been smashed by vandals at Wolfe Manor. No doors had ever been broken down, left gaping open like an untreated wound., the building then left to be the victim of the elements and the paranormally curious. Nothing, it seemed, had ever been touched, nothing moved out of place, no human hand ever gracing the fine furnishings and priceless art collection that was said to be inside the walls of Wolfe Manor. Not since the last unknown dwellers had suddenly left, so long ago.

Of course over the years, there had been many attempted expeditions to the manor. Drunken groups of the brave and the foolish all marching up the hill, the alcohol running through their veins giving them that false sense of security. That much needed coat of armour that was needed to venture anywhere near the mansion. The growing excitement of the moment always came to a cold stop when the groups reached the gates of Wolfe Manor.

All of a sudden a fear would trickle down the spines of each person; man, woman, boy or girl and they would literally run down the hill, sometimes falling over each other in their panic to get away from the frightening presence of the building and the undoubted presence of something else they could never quite put their finger on. Just a feeling that something wasn't right at the manor, a knowledge that they had not been alone, that somehow they had been watched.

Out of the hundreds of people that had nervously trudged their way up the dark and unpaved hill to the manor, and then fled back down in an ungodly hurry, not one would attempt it again. For them, whatever strange and eerie experience they'd had that night would stay with them forever, they would never escape it, it was now part of them.

Growing up in the village of Ballymahon, I'd had numerous opportunities to visit Wolfe Manor. Every Halloween a bunch of my classmates would begin to nudge each other in the playground, winking and smiling at each

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