A Haunted House

Oct 29

Written By Rachel

Reading Time: 6 Minutes

The image includes a customized book cover of "A Haunted House" by Virginia Woolfe. It features an old brick house that is covered in cobwebs. The windows are tinted orange and the door is made of wood.

01. Blog

02. Summary

03. Short Story

04. Discussion Questions

“Is there a ghost inside my house?”

“How to tell if my house is haunted?”

“Are ghosts real?”

I bet you’ve tried to look this up on Google after hearing your door suddenly slam shut out of nowhere. It’s perfectly reasonable! You’re definitely not paranoid.

I mean, you should be aware if there’s another tenant living with you rent-free.

You’re alone in your house, after all. There shouldn’t be anyone else. It must’ve been the wind from the open window. Or, you might even find yourself assuming it to be simply just a figment of your imagination. It’s easy to misheard things around the quiet space of your house.

Before you go and call the Ghostbusters, there’s something you should know…

It might just be a ghost couple looking for a buried treasure that got lost somewhere inside your home.

Not as romantic as it sounds, huh?

But hear me out!

Okay, imagine this. You’re new in town and you just moved into a new apartment with your significant other. You don’t know who the last tenant was but you’re aware that there’s always some history left in the aftermath of departure. People will leave behind memories in places they used to love and cherish, and you know you’re bound to find something amidst the dust and grime.

In hindsight, it sounds like a fun scavenger hunt, right?

Everything seems all fine and dandy for the first few days. You’ve finally settled in and made a home out of the barren space of the apartment. Until you start to notice something different.

Something amiss.

The chairs creaked at night. The lamps flickered. The floorboards squeaked. The subtle noise of the drawers being opened do not fall on deaf ears.

Yet as your hands reach out to grab your phone and ring the local shaman, something stops you. Or rather, someone.

Your eyes catch sight of a shadow running in the background. In the moonlight, there seems to be one more shadow. A pair of ghosts, wandering aimlessly around the walls of your apartment in search of something.

But what could they be searching for?

And why exactly are they here?

Well, you’ll have to read the rest yourself!

It’s not everyday you get to read a romance story that involves a ghost couple. There’s only so much the dead can do amidst their lonesome travels in the living world. The limiting existence of an apparition gives rise to action and purpose, because what could possibly be the reason why these ghosts still linger even after death?

“A Haunted House” evokes a litany of emotions that combines the feelings of the present and the past. It quite literally haunts you. The story starts with the ghost couple rummaging through furniture, passing walls, moving from room to room, and inspecting the place inside and out.

Honestly, there’s nothing more chilling than the thought of having your home be treated like a crime scene.

Except these ghosts are still stuck in the past. Seemingly trying to make amends with a “thing” that they buried behind ages ago.

Trust me, I know what that’s like. I’m sure everyone has experienced being hung up on a particular text message before, except this time, it’s a buried treasure instead of a senseless, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Let me tell you why this story will haunt you (in a good way). It’s a trip down memory lane. You’ll find yourself questioning the existence of love after death, and how it will always stand the test of time.

It sounds cheesy now, but wait until you actually start reading the piece!

The story is set in a house that is seemingly haunted by the ghosts of a long-dead couple. The story is told in the narrative of the current inhabitants of the house, who are aware of the ghosts that linger in the walls. Contrary to its premise, the narration offers a comforting kind of haunt that evokes nostalgia.
The ghostly couple were former residents of the house. They found themselves searching, roaming, revisiting the rooms of the place in hopes of discovering the “buried treasure” they left inside the house. As the story progresses, it becomes clear that what they were searching for was not a physical object, but rather the sheer essence of the love they once shared that was left behind.
The narration switches between the present and past retelling. While the current inhabitants of the house were aware of the ghostly couple, they were not at all frightened by them. As the story reaches an end, the ghostly couple discovers the truth of their endless search. The love they nurtured in their past was still present in the hearts of the current inhabitants.

“A Haunted House”

— Virginia Woolfe

Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure--a ghostly couple.

"Here we left it," she said. And he added, "Oh, but here's a tool" "It's upstairs," she murmured. "And in the garden," he whispered. "Quietly," they said, "or we shall wake them."

But it wasn't that you woke us. Oh, no. "They're looking for it; they're drawing the curtain," one might say, and so read on a page or two. "Now they've found it,' one would be certain, stopping the pencil on the margin. And then, tired of reading, one might rise and see for oneself, the house all empty, the doors standing open, only the wood pigeons bubbling with content and the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the farm. "What did I come in here for? What did I want to find?" My hands were empty. "Perhaps its upstairs then?" The apples were in the loft. And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book had slipped into the grass.

But they had found it in the drawing room. Not that one could ever see them. The window panes reflected apples, reflected roses; all the leaves were green in the glass. If they moved in the drawing room, the apple only turned its yellow side. Yet, the moment after, if the door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls, pendant from the ceiling--what? My hands were empty. The shadow of a thrush crossed the carpet; from the deepest wells of silence the wood pigeon drew its bubble of sound. "Safe, safe, safe" the pulse of the house beat softly. "The treasure buried; the room . . ." the pulse stopped short. Oh, was that the buried treasure?

A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spun darkness for a wandering beam of sun. So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burned behind the glass.

Death was the glass; death was between us, coming to the woman first, hundreds of years ago, leaving the house, sealing all the windows; the rooms were darkened. He left it, left her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned in the Southern sky; sought the house, found it dropped beneath the Downs. "Safe, safe, safe," the pulse of the house beat gladly. "Treasure yours."

The wind roars up the avenue. Trees stoop and bend this way and that. Moonbeams splash and spill wildly in the rain. But the beam of the lamp falls straight from the window. The candle burns stiff and still. Wandering through the house, opening the windows, whispering not to wake us, the ghostly couple seek their joy.

"Here we slept," she says. And he adds, "Kisses without numbers." "Waking in the morning--" "Silver between the trees--" "Upstairs--" 'In the garden--""When summer came--" 'In winter snowtime--" "The doors go shutting far in the distance, gently knocking like the pulse of a heart.

Nearer they come, cease at the doorway. The wind falls, the rain slides silver down the glass. Our eyes darken, we hear no steps beside us; we see no lady spread her ghostly cloak. His hands shield the lantern. "Look," he breathes. "Sound asleep. Love upon their lips."

Stooping, holding their silver lamp above us, long they look and deeply. Long they pause. The wind drives straightly; the flame stoops slightly. Wild beams of moonlight cross both floor and wall, and, meeting, stain the faces bent; the faces pondering; the faces that search the sleepers and seek their hidden joy.

"Safe, safe, safe," the heart of the house beats proudly. "Long years--" he sighs. "Again you found me." "Here," she murmurs, "sleeping; in the garden reading; laughing, rolling apples in the loft. Here we left our treasure--" Stooping, their light lifts the lids upon my eyes. "Safe! safe! safe!" the pulse of the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry "Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart."

Discussion Questions! (share your thoughts)

Virginia Woolfe’s depiction of “haunting” in the short story offers a sense of comfort and nostalgia to readers in contrast to its traditional rendition. In that sense, what are the possible implications of the nature of memory and its power to affect the present?
The house in the short story is considered a vessel for memories and emotions. How do physical spaces shape memories and experiences?
The story weaves through the past and present events seamlessly, combining both elements into one piece. With that in mind, how can the past coexist peacefully with the demands of the present?
Virginia Woolfe emphasized the idea of love as a lasting legacy after death. Her concept of “haunting” came from a good place that fostered unconditional love. Considering this, how does it differ from the traditional idea of “haunting” that leaves a different impact? In other words, is this different conception of haunting more realistic to you (if ghosts indeed exist)?
Given the concept of love existing despite the erosion of time, what makes this kind of love enduring through the ages?