The Glimpse

"I was a cop. Technically, I still am. On garden leave."

"Garden leave?"

"Yeah. Once things escalated, it started affecting my work."

"What happened?"

"It was the little things at first. Just minor movements or sounds. Nothing specific. I'd be lying in bed and it would sound like someone was coming up the stairs. I'd get up to check and there'd be no-one there."

"All houses creak. Probably the stairs returning to their original position after you climbed them."

"That's what I thought. But then things started moving about the house. I thought it was my boy, initially, but he swore blind he'd not touched them. I have a little Spiderman figure which sits on the mantlepiece. One day it had moved along, by about six inches. I didn't think much of it, at the time. Maybe I had moved it absent-mindedly whilst dusting. But then I found it had moved to the opposite end of the mantlepiece. I moved it back. Next day, it was on a different shelf. And one too high for the boy to reach. That's when I knew something was happening."

"Poltergeist activity. Did you get any on film?"

"We tried. We set up cameras when it got worse. Something moved them. Something unseen turned them around. Like they knew we were watching or trying to catch them. Some of that footage shows there's no-one in the room and us leaving it with the camera on. Then, seconds later, the camera is turned to the wall or switched to facing the floor or ceiling. There's a glimpse, of a shadow, something, indistinguishable, but nothing conclusive."

"Very frustrating."

"I even wore a GoPro on my body for a bit. But, whenever I did, nothing happened."

"Smart ghost."

"Or ghosts. Things have happened simultaneously in different rooms. Carrie called me from the bathroom one day. I was in the kitchen and saw a cereal bowl, that I'd just filled with granola, lift up off the table. It was a foot clear off the table top at least. It was then as if someone threw it at me. I managed to block the bowl with my arm, but the contents emptied all over me. That granola really hurts if it hits you in the face."

"And what happened with Carrie?"

"She said there was someone in the bathroom. Someone behind her. Watching her. She only caught a glimpse, in the mirror, she said, but it was enough to scare her witless. 'He was watching me undress.' She said."

"That is creepy."

"Then there's the music. Well, the song. I didn't recognise it at first. But then I heard two girls at work, Carley and Stacey, singing it as they went down the stairs and I asked them what it was called so I could look it up. It's by Pink. It's called 'Just Give Me a Reason' and there's a bit in the live version where the audience joins in and sings "Oh-oh". I keep hearing that around the house, despite the fact there's no-one there."

"That's interesting. Other people have reported hearing music, usually piano music, when experiencing similar things to that which you are."

"The radio and television are off. No phones that might be picking up a signal are in the vicinity. I try to home in on the source and just when I get to the room I can hear it from, it stops."

"Any baby monitors? They can sometimes pick up signals from quite a distance in other houses."

"We never had one. Never had a need."

"Has the boy ever said anything about what's been happening? How old is he now?"

"He's six years old now. I caught him talking to an imaginary friend the other day, when I walked into his room. I asked who he'd been talking to. He said he didn't know his name but called him 'the mirror man.'"

"Most children have an imaginary friend at some point in their childhood."

"He said that the man hides every time I come into the room. He also told me that if he looks at the mirror quickly, he catches a glimpse of him. But that he doesn't appear in the mirror like a normal reflection."

"How many mirrors do you have in the house?"

"Let me see. There's one in the bathroom, another in the bedroom, one in my son's room, and one in the spare room. And my wife's make-up mirror. Oh, and my shaving mirror. Six. Six in total."

"And only your wife and son have seen this man in their mirrors?"

"Yes. I've never seen him. I've even tried glancing at the mirror to try and catch sight of him but have never caught him."

"How do they describe him? What does he look like?"

"About five foot six, short brown hair. A jacket or cardigan over cotton shirt and normal trousers. Not jeans."

"What sort of age do they say he is?"

"About forty. Or so."

"Do you have any photos of your family? Your father, grandfather, great-grandfather?"

"Not here. They were lost. In the fire."

"Fire?"

"Yeah. At our last place. We lost everything. Was just glad we weren't in there when the place went up."

"And, where was that?"

"Netherhill Road. In Paisley. We lived near the Primary School. Gallowhill."

"I've heard of that somewhere before."

"The school?"

"No. Netherhill. I'd have to do a search, but I'm sure I've heard that mentioned before, when I investigated another happening. Let me just check here on my laptop."

"What was that?"

"What?"

"As you opened your laptop, I saw a reflection of someone on the screen. Someone behind you. Behind us."

"There's no-one there. Let me close it and open it again."

"Nothing this time. Do you think I'm going mad?"

"No. Not at all. I think stress can play an enormous part in how it affects what we see and perceive. With all this going on, it could be that is the reason for you seeing things."

"I wasn't seeing things when that granola hit me in the face. I felt that."

"I understand. Here we go. The fire was seen by two officers. They just happened to be passing at the time and managed to rescue three people from the building."

"But the house was empty."

"It says here, in respect of the officers, 'They discovered upstairs residents calling for help and rushed to help them.'"

"That makes no sense. The house was, or was meant to be, empty."

"I don't know what to tell you. It's there, as reported in the Glasgow Times."

"I can see that. What's that at the bottom?"

"Oh. Yes. A correction. It says that only two people were rescued. A third person, unnamed, died in the fire."

"Don't move."

"What?"

"Don't move. I can see him. He's behind us again. As clearly as I can see you."

"I see him. I had to refocus my eyes, but I see him."

"What does he want?"

"Let's ask him. We can see you. What is it you want?"

"What's he doing? His mouth is opening and closing, but I can't hear anything."

"Something's happening. The light is changing. Are they… flames?"

"Jesus! The carpet's on fire!"

"Be careful! Smother it with something!"

"It's out. What the hell..."

"I think it may be related to the fire. Let me do another search."

"My God. That's scary."

"Something here about the police officer leaving someone behind."

"That's not true. I searched all the rooms. There was no-one else in there."

"I thought you said you weren't there."

"I said I wasn't in the house. I was on duty."

"Your colleague seems to have accused you of deliberately leaving a man behind. Said the other two people that were rescued said there was another in the building. But you chose to save them and not him. And you refused to re-enter."

"That's not how it was. I couldn't go back. The flames had taken hold by then."

"So, you left him?"

"I had no choice. Please understand, I had no choice."

"You will need to convince him, not me, of that."

"How? How do I do that?"

"He's here for a reason. You need to make peace with him. Make him understand why you left him."

"He wasn't worth saving."

"What do you mean?"

"He raped my wife. And threatened my boy. I told him if I ever saw him again, he'd burn for what he did. I thought he'd moved away. But then, when we saw the fire, it appeared that he and his cohorts had broken into our home."

"They were burglars?"

"I don't think he even knew it was our house. I think they had just been looking for somewhere to hole up in. My family had gone to stay with my parents for a few days, whilst I had to work, as they didn't like to be in the house on their own. Not since the rape had occurred."

"So, you left him?"

"I was so angry that he'd gotten away with what he'd done. He didn't even do jail time. It wasn't right. I wanted my revenge."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"I know. I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry. Please, please accept my apology and forgive me."

"I have to go."

"Don't leave me. Please. Please. Don't leave me here with him."

"I can't help you. I'm sorry."

"I can't move. What's going on?"

"He has a hold of you."

"What? No. Please, please let me go. I'm sorry. Okay, I'm sorry? Please?"

"For him to cross, there is a penance you must pay."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"I don't think you have a choice. Can you not smell the petrol?"

"Oh God. Oh, Jesus Christ. Please help me."

"I'll see myself out."

"Not like this. Please. Not like this…"

"That's what he said."

"What's that sound?"

"The music? Don't you recognise it? That's what was playing on the radio when you left him. It's a nice tune. Pink, I believe. 'You've been having real bad dreams… Oh, oh…'"