The Haunted House A Children’s Short Story about Frankenstein’s Monster

This story is about Frankenstein’s monster and a haunted house. It was written on 20 Sept 1975. I was ten years old and at school. Being only 200 hundred words, will only take a moment.

My illustrations for the Haunted House showing the monster of Frankenstein, a coffin and dead spiders

Once upon a time there was a girl called Claire Jones. She ran away from her stepmother and father. They treated her badly. She saw a house and heard footsteps. Suddenly Claire saw a big shadow on the outside wall of the house. She turned and saw Frankenstein (meaning the monster). He said, ‘Come here my child’. He picked her up and gave her sleeping pills and then she fell asleep. Then Frankenstein put her in a cold room and locked her up.

Claire awoke. She was freezing. She saw frozen people like statues. Claire tried the door. It was locked. There were no windows but lots of fans with cold air coming out. Claire put her torch on and saw a hanging skeleton with blood dripping from it and graves with dead tarantulas and Claire nearly turned to ice in a bowl. Frankenstein crashed the door and grabbed Claire and put her in boiling wax. They start to fight. Frankenstein dropped her and he tripped and Claire was dropped on the floor. She stirred the wax with a stick and Frankenstein melted into wax and that was the end of Frankenstein. Claire ran home and never had another walk.

The Haunted House would appear to be the customary fiction horror of a child’s unfettered imagination. Kids love horrible and creepy, don't they? My life seemed nothing surprising. I was living in a little village with my parents and siblings. Our cottage was rundown and cold in the winter. We go to church most Sundays and I do childhood stuff like making up quizzes, plays, writing stories, painting and going on bike rides.

 This story would remain in the dark for forty years. Only on clearing Mum’s house shortly after her death in 2016, would I encounter it. I don’t even remember writing it.

Claire Jones was my best friend at school. Since learning a horrific truth about my past, I have come to learn that the writer in me had projected herself onto her characters. I am in fact writing about myself in this story.

This is a veiled account of something terrible that has happened to me. This story would appear to make no sense, but in fact is a response to this terrible thing.

My diaries from 1977 to 1981

Two years after writing this story, the Silver Jubilee of 1977 is celebrated. This is a big year for me, as I would start my periods and begin senior school. Almost every day, my twin and I would traverse a disused railway station to get there. I would also begin a diary which would continue until 1988.

Soon after starting senior school, a big man standing beside the railway track started to materialise in my head. He had shaggy dark hair and a condition of overgrown bones called acromegaly. By then, I had completely forgotten about Frankenstein’s monster of The Haunted House.

My book Tales from Daler Cottage reveals the underlying meaning of The Haunted House and my other stories.

The truth about my life is fully explained in the following articles.

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

About my diaries

Links to my other articles

Tales from Daler Cottage: Unearthing the Hidden Messages within my Children’s Stories

Tales from Daler Cottage is about my children’s stories written between the ages of 9 and 16. The years would have been 1975 to 1982. During this time, I was completely unaware of a terrible truth about my life. I was living in Daler Cottage, the given name of my childhood home.

In April 1985, at the age of 19, I would start a novel called The Lessons. This novel was fuelled by a fantasy world that was burning me up inside. For the next thirty years, I would struggle with this novel, oblivious to this truth about myself. The story of The Lessons is covered in my other book.

Prior to my novel-writing phase, I was writing mysteries, poems, drawing, painting and devising plays. I kept a diary between 1977 and 1988. I went to art school between 1981 and 1986, all during complete oblivion. I would continue to write and paint for many years to come. My diaries illuminate the circumstances surrounding my creations. Unknown to me, clues to this horrific truth have also leaked into my diaries like oil bubbling up through the ground.

At the age of 51, finally learned this terrible truth.

Due to the sensitive nature of this book, names and certain details have been altered in order to protect identities and I am writing under a pseudonym.

Available in kindle and paperback.

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

Links to my other articles

The Lessons: A True Story about a Parasitic Novel by Madeleine Watson

This article is about my novel called The Lessons.

Strictly speaking, it is not a novel at all, but something far more sinister. The dictionary lacks a word for what The Lessons actually is.

At the age of 19, I made the momentous decision to pen this novel – on April 23 1985, to be precise. I know this because I kept a diary between 1977 and 1988. As soon as I began, an illness cut me down for a week. I thought nothing of it, determined I was going to begin this novel as soon as I felt better. Little did I realise how this novel would affect my life.

I kept it secret from family and friends. I feverishly read books on how-to write novels, sitting in my flat for hours on end, eking out a few sentences. During episodes, I would lose weight and become ill.

My novel appeared to have no bearing upon my life at all. A psychopath operates in a creepy old house called the Hollows and heads a criminal ring. I was living in a sleepy village with my parents and siblings. I partook in kiddie stuff like babysitting, toy-making, Sunday school teaching and art.

During my writing, I connected with this ‘strand’. This strand grew addictive. It ran deep, powerful, compulsive, shameful, deathly, depressing, creepy and devastating.

Little did I realize the source of this strand.

This fascinating journey into the secret message beneath The Lessons actually is available in Kindle and paperback.

Illustrations and excerpts from my diaries are included.

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

Links to my other articles

The Trigger Behind my Odd Doll Pantomimes: 17 – 31 October 1978

Between 1978 and early 1981, I used to create stories with toys. My storylines were odd in that the star, a blonde doll did nothing but lie inert as the other toys had active parts. I now realize I had projected a younger self onto this doll, but didn’t realise what I was doing. My conscious awareness was oblivious to the fact that an uncle had lived in the cottage with us throughout 1968 and that he  brutalized me when I was 3. The reason for her inert state was that she was in fact unconscious.

How I came to unearth this truth is covered in a separate article.

Sue, of my doll pantomimes did nothing but lay unconscious

Since then, I have gleaned my diaries and have discovered ‘triggers’ to my compulsive doll-playing. These consisted of reminders to my toddlerhood.

Throughout 1978 these doll-playing episodes would occur. This particular episode begins on 17 October 1978 and continues until the end of the month. Strong triggers must have fuelled it. For reasons not explained in this article, I have come to know that my uncle did something despicable to me in our family pool in 1968. He tore my costume in the process.

Family Pool

Dad built the pool in 1967. My siblings and neighbourhood children enjoyed it. However, my uncle would live with us throughout 1968 whilst the pool was in use. His mother, my Nan, stayed too, so the cottage was full. I remember the pool well and it seemed big. When I was 4, Dad boarded it over.

Also of relevance to this story is our Collie, Lucky. She used to growl at strangers that approached the pram of me and my twin as babies. Lucky died before my uncle came, which means I would have been no more than 2 when she ‘vanished.’ I have no memory of her.

Or so I had thought.

15 - 20 Oct 1978. After a pool incident at school, I'm playing dolls.

Relevant entries from my 2nd diary. I'm going to Della's & playing dolls - lots.

In 1978, I had 2 diaries, including an overflow, as shown from the images. The text circled in red shows the amount of times I went to a girl's house who's dad was tall, had shaggy dark hair and facial stubble like my uncle. Circled in blue are the times I played 'dolls' and other events of note.

The Swimming Baths

So, on 18 Oct 1978 this doll-playing episode began. My Nan, (his mother) had come to stay on 12 Oct – just like in 1968.

I go swimming with school on the 17th. I am bullied by a group of girls because I'm different. After session, the girls chuck their costumes at me. I chuck them back and everyone laughs. The next day, my compulsive doll-playing began.

  

At this time, I’m reading a book, Shadow the Sheepdog by Enid Blyton which appears to have formed a trigger to writing a story on 26 October.

21 - 26 Oct 1978: I'm seeing Della & playing dolls. I start my story on the 26th.

My story, Christmas Holiday House features a dog, Brandy due to her colour. With no knowledge that Lucky was tan-coloured, I believe I was tapping into my unconscious memories of her during the writing. Lucky has come to represent my lost childhood, as she had died shortly before my uncle came to live with us. On examining my stories, I have discovered tan-coloured dogs recur throughout, along with themes of death of innocence.

Another trigger that I have discovered is the resemblance of a neighbour to my uncle. He was tall with dark shaggy hair and bristles. His daughter, Della (named June in my published books) often used to play with us, and I frequented her house in mid-October (marked in red in the images). In a separate article, I explain how Della’s dad triggered my odd digging behaviour on 5 April 1978.

17 Oct - 1 November 1978. I have finished my story.

So, I'm going  to a friend's house and I’m playing dolls - lots. On the 26 Oct, Nan goes back to Aunt’s. I begin my story, Christmas Holiday House.

So, there are a lot of toddlerhood reminders going on: an incident at the baths involving swimming costumes, Nan (his mother) stopping with us like in 1968, I’m reading a book Shadow the Sheepdog evoking impressions of Lucky. (I had been writing about tan-coloured dogs long before reading Blyton's book). And finally, I’m frequenting Della’s, whose father resembles my uncle.

My last day of playing dolls of this episode was 29 Oct 1978 and I'm feeling 'depressed'. On 29 and 30 Oct, I read my stories and poems to my twin and  youngest sister.

On 31 Oct, I write my poem The Sea. This poem, describing of the dangers of the deep, is haunting and troubling.

What my doll pantomimes were about

Other triggers to my doll pantomimes of 1978

The first aid dummy in the village fete 8 July 1978

Overview

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

About my diaries     

Links to my other articles

My Odd Doll Pantomimes of 1978 and the Triggers

Between the 1978 and 1981, I used to make up doll pantomimes. The stories behind them were odd due to the role I gave the star, a large doll with blonde hair. She did nothing but lay inert as the other toys took active parts. I didn’t understand why she would lie like that, but almost four decades later, I would come to learn that I had been suffocated and raped by a half-uncle who lived in our cottage throughout 1968.

Unconscious doll in my pantos

Waxworks, first aid dummies and other such effigies would leave me depressed and unnerved for no apparent reason. I now know I had dissociated the abused toddler within me onto other objects, such as Sue, the unconscious blonde doll. My strange panto is described in more depth separately.

My 2 diaries I kept in 1978.

Since my terrible discovery about my toddlerhood, I have gleaned my diaries to uncover what fuelled the compulsion for these doll-playing episodes. I have identified ‘triggers’, reminders of my toddlerhood.

In 1978, I had 2 diaries: a tatty 5-year one and an overflow. Some of the information repeats and some might not be shown.

Reminders of my Toddlerhood

My diary first reports of doll-playing on 31 January 1978. I had called it ‘muppetshows’. Two days earlier, I had gone up to Dad’s room (formerly the guestroom. My parents slept separately due to Dad’s illness). His room was accessible via separate stairs so I seldom went up there. However, I have come to learn that my uncle used to sleep in that room for most of 1968 and he raped me there. The image below shows how my visit to Dad’s bedroom spurred me to play dolls a day later. My odd behavior in Dad’s room is covered in a separate article.

My visit to Dad's room on 29 Jan spurred an episode of doll-playing

My second doll-playing episode occurred on 28 February 1978, continuing into early March. On 25 Feb, I’d gone swimming and on 27th, I had a dental checkup. Both are identified triggers to my toddlerhood. In 1968, we had a family pool which was boarded-over by the time I was 4. The pool was in use during my uncle’s stay and I know he assaulted me there. For obvious reasons, I hated the oral nature of the dentist’s checkup but over the years had learned to tolerate it.

I went swimming and the dentist and then played dolls

The Past of the House

27 March: we talk on the 'past of the house'. I then play dolls.

I don’t play dolls again until 27 and 28 March 1978. On the 27th, I have a chat with Mum and Dad about 'the past of the house.' This likely would have included the situation of my early childhood. That same day, I'm playing dolls - until late. I play dolls again the next day

On 4 March, I begin a story, The Secret of the Shadows, an apparent children's mystery veiling loss of innocence. My children's stories are looked at in my book, Tales from Daler Cottage.

I continue to play dolls on 28 & 29 March

A Day at the Seaside

On 15 August 1978, we'd gone to the seaside

I don’t play dolls again until 16 August 1978. This is a sustained period that continues onto 17, 18 19 and continues sporadically until 27 Aug. What triggered such an explosion? On 15 August, we went to the east coast for the day. I recall rock pools and the blue sky reflecting upon the still waters of the cove. Extreme unease crept over me at the water’s tranquility but I didn’t know why. Reminders of our family pool come to mind, but I was unaware of this. We had also gone to the coast in 1968. Beach holidays have always spurred an unsettled feeling. I had a bad dream about my youngest sister on the 14 August, so I was already troubled, perhaps by the prospect of going to the seaside.

A day after I go the seaside, I'm playing dolls.

Effigy

27 September, marks my fifth doll-playing episode of 1978. I was already depressed on 23 September which deepens by 26 Sept. The reason for this appears that I'm going to a nearby girl's house lots. Her dad is tall with dark shaggy hair and whiskers. Without realising, he was triggering reminders of my toddlerhood, as he bears a passing resemblance to my uncle.

Relevant dates of my diary: I'm going to Della's lots then I'm playing dolls.

This, my sixth and final doll-playing episode of 1978 is a whopper. I play dolls on for half of October. On the 26th, I wrote another story, Christmas Holiday House, a kiddie mystery shrouding rape and loss of innocence. On 31 Oct, I also wrote a poem: The Sea (similarly haunting).

A strong trigger had spurred this compulsive playing of dolls and of my jottings. But what was it? It is so big, I have decided to dedicate a separate article to it, but again, I have found my horrific toddlerhood behind it.

Triggers for Doll Playing

My drawing of toys completed when I was 19

So in all, I would be triggered into reenacting situations of my toddlerhood whilst playing ‘dolls.’ Reminders of my toddlerhood would bring it on. These include: going to the seaside or swimming baths, dental checkups, going in Dad’s room and effigies of my uncle. Odd behavior would accompany my doll-playing episodes which are: toymaking, doing jigsaws and writing stories. It is now obvious that I was creating diversions to run away from the toddler within me.

In later years, I would complete drawings and paintings of the toys within my pantos. Sue had been mislaid so I used a similar doll, Tiny Tears. Clues to the times, such as Andy Pandy and loss of innocence has been encoded within my compositions. I wouldn’t see the messages for decades.

My doll pantomime in depth
The doll pantomime trigger of Oct 1978

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

About my diaries     

Links to my other articles

My Odd Doll Pantomimes of 31 Jan 1978 to 25 Jan 1981

Between 31 March 1978 and 25 Jan 1981 I used to make up doll pantomimes. These were recorded in my diary. My diaries had begun in Christmas 1976 and would continue into July 1988. Looking back, the storylines for my pantomimes were troubling.

The cast of my stories included a large doll with blue eyes and curly flaxen hair; a panda called Collywobbles, who was chatty and popular; Tatty Teddy Bear who was likeable and easy-going; Delia (also known as Big D) who was scheming and bossy; Cindy who was high-maintenance and fashionable and finally Humpty who was oafish and silly. (Other toys took part in minor roles).

Reconstruction of my doll-playing. Sue is in fact comatose after being suffocated.

There would be no pantomime without Sue, the blonde doll. She was the star, but she had no lines. All she did was lay supine unconscious in the background as the other toys did things. Sit her up and her eyes would flash open with an accusatory stare, angry for the part she has play. If I were a toy, I would be anyone but her.

Collywobbles, Ted and the others were free to move around and had lines. They were funny, squabbled and laughed. And all the while, Sue would lie motionless. How awful.

31 Jan 1978: My first mention of playing 'muppetshows'.

I didn’t realize at the time, but Sue was not asleep, but comatose after being suffocated and horrifically used by an unseen force. Merely looking at her made my stomach lurch. I didn’t understand where the feeling came from, but I grew addicted to the sensation and therefore my doll-playing grew compulsive. I was actually projecting the used toddler ‘me’ who has been raped by an uncle who stayed at our cottage in 1968. Sue was an effigy of my three-year-old self

On 8 July 1978, another doll would spur the same unsettling feelings within me: a first-aid dummy in the village fete. She lay unconscious after being suffocated and horrifically used. Only, she hadn’t. She was just a first-aid dummy and I had subconsciously projected my horrors onto her. My conscious self didn’t understand my rush of emotions.

Later that year, one of Sue's eyes became wonky after I rough-played with her. This reinforced the notion of her losing consciousness. How terrible.

Three years later, I am in my second year of my Fine Art degree course in City University. I would paint two still lifes featuring some of the toys of our pantos. I didn’t use Sue as she had probably gone missing. Instead, I used a similar blonde doll, Tiny Tears. Also included were Collywobbles Panda and Tatty Ted. I included a dog, Toby. The meaning behind the dog is explained separately.

A toy sketch I completed as a student. Notice Panda, Teddy and Tiny Tears

Andy Pandy and Teddy

My subconscious had driven these paintings insomuch as my doll-pantos. Both represented the age of Andy Pandy of my toddlerhood. Andy Pandy incidentally, was a 60s kids' TV show featuring puppets. There is no ‘panda’ in Andy Pandy, but the word-similarity had got stuck in my head and pandas recur in my creations. Both my toy still lifes tell of rape and suffocation when I was 3, only I didn’t realize at the time. More about these paintings can be found in a separate article.

The toys of my pantomimes would make yet another appearance in one of my psychological thrillers, North Window. A pivotal scene features a banquet. The characters included Dr Sui, (a derivative name to ‘Sue.’), fat men in cummerbunds (like Humpty), a brunette (like Cindy) and waiters in tuxedoes (donned in black and white, like pandas). The banquet is celebrating the success of the main protagonist, Isaac. He now takes the place of Sue, as I had grown out of playing dolls by then. I needed something else on which to dump my subconscious horrors, and it became a fiction character. This fiction character was borne of a template from a childhood familiar. My novel-writing, like my doll-playing, had become compulsive.

My later paintings would feature a lifeless doll lying next to a happy child. The effect is unsettling as it implies an almost-dead child. Pandas would also recur in an illustrated children’s story I wrote in my thirties.

Doll Effigy of Myself

Having established that  Leah represents the comatose three-year-old that lives inside of me, I have identified triggers that spurred me to suddenly play ‘dolls’. All are reminders of my vile toddlerhood.

After gleaning my diaries, I have identified 26 separate ‘episodes’ of compulsive doll-playing. The triggers behind each episode include:

• Reminders of our family pool that existed in 1968. I know my uncle assaulted me there. We also went to the seaside that year. Rock pools and beach coves often brought unease within me and I would play ‘dolls’ on my return from seaside trips.
• Times that I went in Dad’s room. I have reasons to know I was raped there.
• Excursions to the east of the village where I grew up. I know our uncle took my twin and I for walks in our double pushchair and he assaulted us in a patch of scrublands near the church.
• Moving our beds around in preparation for Nan staying. Disturbing the environment of where I was suffocated obviously unsettled my subconscious and I needed to pay ‘dolls’ afterwards.
• Effigies of my uncle, such as a girl's dad who lived over the fence from us.
• Episodes often coincided with a sudden need to write a kiddie mystery thriller, which bore secret messages to the horrors of my toddlerhood.

Children’s Toy Playing

I have since learned that child counselors will watch children playing with their toys in order to determine subconscious forces behind their behaviour. Had anyone asked me about the unconscious Sue, I would have felt deep shame and deny any meaning behind it. I would have talked on the other toys, but not Leah. This would only have drawn more attention to her.

My final doll-playing episode was reported on 25 January 1981 after a squabble. On 1 February of that year, Mum arranged me to be a Sunday school teacher. I was no longer playing dolls, but I would be surrounded with kindergarten kids on Sunday mornings. It seemed I couldn’t escape the reminders of my toddlerhood. Again, my behavior as a Sunday school teacher would appear governed by a time I could not consciously remember. This is covered in a separate article.

The first aid dummy
Triggers for my doll-pantomimes in 1978
The doll pantomime episode of 17 - 31 Oct 1978

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

About my diaries     

Links to my other articles

The First Aid Dummy in the Village Carnival on 8 July 1978

One cloudy day, I went to the village carnival with two school friends and I encountered my suffocated three-year-old self in the form of a first aid dummy in a tent.

Of course, I didn’t realise this at the time. It was just a dummy lying on a table. A cheerful paramedic presided, urging us to have a go and learn how to perform the ‘kiss of life.’

All I can say is that the sight of that ashen, bald thing lying there ruined my day. Strong feelings of sex, possession and death swept over me but such words were not at my disposal at the time. The sight of that doll simply unnerved me.

How to Perform the Kiss of Life

Dummies would spur intrusive thoughts (Necessary Evil Wiki Commons)

My two friends simply had a laugh as they had a go. I watched, squirming inside as one of them pressed her lips against that lifeless thing and the doll’s chest lurched upwards and make that spooky hush sound as the air escaped ‘it’.

Her saliva dribbled over the doll’s chops and I had to look away. The sight not only depressed me, but left me horribly disturbed. Once my second friend had a go and the paramedic praised their good efforts, they urged me to step forwards. Dismay overwhelmed me at the idea of even touching that doll. The paramedic, in a friendly manner assured me it was ok and that I was learning an important skill. But I just couldn’t go near it.

I felt embarrassed as confusion crossed their faces. I was confused at myself. Little did I twig that I had a doll at home, Sue, of my odd doll pantos that played a part similar to that first aid dummy.

Looking back, my intense aversion must have seemed odd. It was just a first aid dummy after all and my friends were having a laugh. What I didn’t know was that I had been suffocated and raped by a half-uncle when I was three. My disturbed feelings were due to 'seeing myself' lying there. How I came to know this is covered in a separate article.

My diary entries of 8 and 9 July 1978

My Diaries

In 1978, I had 2 diaries: a tatty 5-year diary and an overflow diary. Sometimes, I would repeat myself in both diaries, as can be seen in the images above.

The round-up of my diary entries of 8 July 1978 had been, “Went to the recreation grounds with Jill and Karen. Eve (my twin) didn’t come. Had 2 goes on moon walk. Had sweets and drinks. I was sad though. Came home and it drizzled for the rest of the afternoon.”

There is no mention of that first aid dummy but of my sadness. A subconscious part of me had experienced grief at encountering my used, unconscious toddler self and how her innocence had been ripped to shreds.

The Dead Twin

The next day, 9 July 1978, I visited Granddad’s and we went to his sister’s, my great Aunt Vi and her husband, Uncle Harry. I wrote in my diary, “Went to Uncle Harry’s and Aunt Violet. (Her twin died, Auntie Lily). A sunny day.” Aunt Vi and Lily were non-identical twin sisters, whereas Eve and I are identical.

So, I had written the words, “twin died” a day after seeing my almost-dead self in that tent. This coincidence is awful and must have contributed to my ongoing depression.

My twin and I came away with a coleus plant each which we kept on our bedroom window sill. Dad would then plant them into bigger pots on 16 August 1978, the same day as I would play one of my odd doll pantos featuring a suffocated doll, Sue.

At the time, I had endless story-lines in my head. One of them years later had been a woman giving a choking man the kiss of life. I would eventually include this scene within a novel which I called Nadia. It was the reading of Nadia that ultimately brought my horrific toddler memories to the surface when I was 51.

Waxworks Triggering Intrusive Thoughts

Until then, unexplained intrusive thoughts would plague me after I visited waxworks museums or torture chambers like Madame Tussauds, Blackpool and Great Yarmouth. I didn’t recognize the triggers.

The first such trigger that I had recorded in my diary was that of the first aid dummy in the tent of the village carnival on 8 July 1978.

My odd doll pantos

Overview

About this blog

The moment I learned the truth

How I learned about my toddlerhood

My book Mirror Image Shattered

About my diaries     

Links to my other articles