The Farmhouse

I have a beautiful farmhouse in Norfolk. It stands proud over the rest of the flat landscape, dominating the nearby overgrown fields and woodland. I may be right in thinking that this is the highest point for fifty miles or so. Inside is everything you would find in a grand working house of the time - the huge fireplace, slate covered kitchen and warm oven at the centre, four cosy bedrooms and room for all of my dogs. I left there six months ago. I will never go back.

It began on a cold winter's night eighteen months ago when things started to...well...go a little strange. Mary, Isabella, Ralph and I were sitting round the kitchen table, talking over that days efforts at school when suddenly, my two dogs start barking and becoming agitated. Could they have seen a fox, I wondered? It would have been unusual for one of them to get through my new fence. As I rose from my seat to investigate the cause of all this noise, the barking from the dogs seemed to increase in anger, and maybe fear. I rushed to the door at once, and as soon as I opened it, the dogs stopped barking and dashed in to be in the safe position by the fireplace in the kitchen. I though no more of the commotion outside as my children and I comforted the frightened hounds.

After ten minutes, they were up again and moving around the farmhouse - but nervously. I never thought to check outside afterwards, it was bitterly cold, and driving snow was beginning to fall heavily.

Our dogs have seen snow before, surely it can't have been that which spooked them?

That night moved slowly toward the back of my mind as winter wore on - soon it was February and the days were lighter and longer.

On bright Saturday morning, my children and I went for a walk along the River Saundersfoot to see the first signs of spring, well, springing. Some snowdrops were pushing up against the softening earth, and we stopped and crouched to admire Nature's struggle.

Unexpectedly, there was a sharp gust of wind and what seemed like a loud, but distant cackle. All was still. Isabella, my youngest, asked for a reassuring cuddle. As I held her closely to me, as small birch tree snapped over in front of our eyes. We stood as one, open mouthed as tree after tree snapped in the middle.

I decided to get the children back to safety of the farmhouse as quickly as possible. As we ran from the river's bank, the noise of the destruction of the trees was unbearable. After five minutes we were far enough away to not hear the terrible force at work.

Shortly, we were at the door to the kitchen, which I always keep on the latch. It was locked, and stuck fast.