I Know What’s On Your Mind
by Alexander

 

Chapter 1

The whole of my family were into ghosts and ghost-hunting, although my parents would be seriously pissed off if they heard me or my brother say that. They were into things like spiritualism and stuff like that and so they had to be called ‘spectres’ or ‘presences’, but ghosts is what David and me called them – it was more scarier! Anyway, we’d moved into this small village on the Isle of Thanet, which is on the s e corner of England. Dad said it was so’s he could be nearer his job, but Davis and me were convinced it was because it was supposed to have more ghosts per square mile than anywhere else in the county.

What was really scary was that the name of the area, Thanet, probably came from the Greek word ‘Thanatos’ for ‘death’. Not death like in dead, but the name of a person, like Eros is the god of love. That’s what a few people said anyway. The alternative which most people believe is that the word came from ‘Thane’, meaning a landowner in Saxon times. David and me rubbished that idea: living on the Isle of Death was much more exciting.

Because the area was so quiet and not many people lived there, mum and dad were OK with Dave and me riding our bikes round the country lanes by ourselves, even though we were only 13 and 14 years old. For some reason, David, who is younger than me is bigger and stronger than I am, but I don’t care that much ’cause I’m brainier than him – mostly anyway. Well, one day we were exploring around the lanes when we came across an old, broken-down gateway with brick pillars and strong iron gates that were half fallen down. On the pillars was written ‘Thanet House’ and ‘Danger Keep Out’. Needless to say, we rode our bikes down the over-grown drive to see what we could find. Hidden from the road around a bend and almost covered by trees we stopped in awe at the sight of an old, old house, all ruined and falling down. A boy’s paradise!

Taking not much more than a cursory glance at the outside of the 200-year old building, Dave and me dropped our bikes on the path and clambered in through the nearest broken window. Talk about neat, it was fantastic! There was dust, dirt, cobwebs and shit everywhere. It took us all of five minutes to quickly explore the ground floor, raising a serious dust storm as we did, and then excitedly climbing the stairs to see what else we could find.

Mostly it was like downstairs, but with a long corridor running the whole length of the building. We were getting towards the end of it when I suddenly felt a cold shiver run through me, and stopped. I turned to Dave who’d stopped just behind me.

“You feel it?” I said quietly.

He nodded.

The feeling we had was one we’d felt often enough when we were having a séance, a feeling that told us there was a ghost nearby. We weren’t frightened or anything of course, we were well used to them, but it was strange because we weren’t even thinking about that sort of stuff and you always had to concentrate to feel any spirits that were knocking about.

Shrugging his shoulders, Dave pushed me forward. Our excitement had gone now, we were exploring seriously, and nervously. Right down at the end of the corridor was a door, and unlike any other in the house, it was closed. Approaching the door gingerly, I felt the presence get stronger. Deciding it was David’s turn to take the lead, I grabbed his arm and pushed him in front.

“Wimp!” he grinned, but I could tell he was a bit nervous all the same.

He pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge. Stepping back, he looked at it more closely.

“There’s no lock,” he said. “Just this wooden latch thing which’s bust anyway. Come on, give me a hand.”

Try as we might, there was no way that door was going to open – it didn’t give a millimetre.

“Bugger it!” Dave said, giving it a final, frustrated kick.

We resumed exploring the rest of the house, but didn’t find much else of interest except more dirt and dust. Climbing back out of the same window, I looked at Dave and giggled.

“Mum’ll kill us,” I sniggered.

We were covered from head to foot in grime, our hair turned from brown to grey by the dust and our clothes badly soiled.

“Shit!” Dave grinned back, trying to brush away the dirt but only succeeding in rubbing it in more.

“I don’t think anyone’s been in that house for years and years,” David said as we were riding home. “There wasn’t even any empty fag packets or beer tins around, so not even any kids have been in there.”

“Yeah, that’s odd,” I agreed and let the matter drop.

Thankfully, mum was more amused than pissed off when she saw us and just pushed us off to our bathroom.

As we stripped off and piled our dirty clothes in the corner, David asked me if I thought the house was haunted.

“Dunno,” I said, stepping under the shower to join David. “There’s something there though.”

“Yeah. Wanna go back?”

“Probl’y.” I passed the shampoo to him and said, “Hair?”

Taking the bottle, he started to wash my hair for me. Being brothers and sharing the same bedroom and bathroom, showering together was the norm and we almost always washed each other’s back and hair. When we were younger we used to get erections and stuff, but we don’t now ’cause we’re so used to seeing each other without any clothes on. The only interest we had in each other from that point of view was watching our dicks get bigger and hair grow round ’em, David yet again beating me to it by getting a big hairy bush round his before me. We jacked off most nights, each in our own bed, ignoring any noises from across the room. In fact we’d never even touched each other down there except once in a blue moon when one or other of us had found a new wanking technique or we were counting hairs. The only slightly kinky thing we ever did was to watch each other jerk off sometimes, like when we were watching a film or something.

Over dinner we were telling mum and dad about the house and the feeling I had when dad looked up and said, “I’ve heard a bit about Thanet House. None of the locals will go anywhere near it because they say it’s haunted and bad things happen there. Some of them say there was a murder there years ago. All rubbish of course.”

“What about the door?” I asked. “We couldn’t shift it.”

“The house has probably moved a bit. Jammed the door in the frame or something. Don’t go trying to open it, the ceiling might come down. Timber framed houses aren’t that safe.”

I shrugged my shoulders and pushed the matter to the back of my mind.

Until later that night. Dave and me were in bed and I was thinking about the house again, and gently stroking my dick under the bed clothes. As my mind turned towards the question of the locked door, my dick got really hard and I began to jack off in earnest, working it up and down as hard as I could, the image of the door fixed at the front of my mind.

“Oh fuck!” I almost shouted as I had the biggest and best cum I’d had for ages.

From across the darkened room, I heard Dave giggle and whisper, “Good one?”

“Piss off!” I replied between breaths, “Made a bloody great mess.”

“Here,” he said quietly, “Catch.”

I caught the rag he used to clean himself up with, noting interestedly that it was already damp.

 

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