The Cottage
Horror
Stephen Kingston
Contents
Copyright
About the Author
About the Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
BONUS
Still Birth
The Shadow Man
Copyright © Lovy Books Ltd, 2016
Stephen Kingston has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Lovy Books Ltd
20-22 Wenlock Road
London N1 7GU
About the Author
Stephen Kingston is a British horror writer who currently resides in England with her wife. They live a simple life with their dog in the countryside. His stories are now available for your reading pleasure on Amazon Kindle.
About the Book
Maurice Truman and his wife Sarah had their dream cottage in the country. Life was idyllic for the two authors. Across a small river on the other side of a bridge was another cottage. Run down and neglected, it was a rental nobody ever seemed interested in. Until that is Mackenzie and his girlfriend Angela arrived. A sweet but confusing couple it eventually becomes apparent they like their weed and the occasional pill.
Maurice is called to the rescue when Mackenzie overdoses and he saves his life. A lesson was hopefully learned but on returning home Mackenzie becomes withdrawn and eventually turns crazy. He is trapped in his bedroom, fearful of an old man he sees in the spare bedroom upstairs.
Again Maurice must come to the rescue and save both himself and Mackenzie from a death buried four hundred years in the past. A death that will lead to incineration of the cottage if Maurice doesn’t play things properly.
Chapter One
Maurice Truman slouched back in his office chair and gave it a test spin. He’d waited ages for this. A proper chair in his office to spin round on while he worked on his new book.
From here he could hear his long-time girlfriend Sarah chopping up onions for a Bolognese sauce in the kitchen. Maurice smiled. He loved her Bolognese almost as much as he loved her. Tonight, a spaghetti Bolognese and a glass of wine would be perfect. Life had certainly made its way to perfection since they had moved here. The little cottage they had bought, out on a quiet moor in Derbyshire, ticked all the boxes. Maurice had retired from soldiering, a job he had done most of his adult life. He grew tired of playing guard for oil company profits and relaxed into a civilian life of writing novels. His first two books and his pension had allowed him just enough to buy the cottage and keep them afloat. Sarah too wrote books. She also wrote text books for various companies. She didn’t need Maurice, they simply complimented each other and loved each other.
Maurice casually gazed out of the window across the narrow river to the old cottage opposite. Both houses had been built some five hundred years ago and had grown into the landscape, changing endlessly with the arrival of new occupants, but the cottage across the river had fallen into disrepair. It was available for rent but anyone visiting would walk away quicker than they arrived. It needed work. Lots of work. Parts of the roof were crumbling and one of the rooms inside had a whole in it so large it would be easy to fall into the cellar below. With all that in mind Maurice was surprised to see a large van pulling up at the old place. He clambered from his office chair to get closer to the window to stare.
“Hey Sarah, come see. Someone’s coming to look at the old shed across the river. Not sure why they thought they needed a van. A car is much quicker for a getaway vehicle,” he snickered.
Sarah wandered into the office and peered through the window. She pushed her slim waist past Maurice up to the window, her blonde hair, tied in a ponytail, swinging into his face. He stepped back laughing. “The curtain twitching is all yours dear.”
“Maurice, I think someone is actually mad enough to move into that ruin. Should we wander over and say hello?” Sarah asked.
“Nobody would or could move in there babe. They’ll be looking and dreaming for ten minutes then they’ll spend another ten trying to turn that van round to leave. Let’s leave 'em to it.” Maurice replied.
Sarah went back to her cooking and Maurice leaned back in his chair. Glancing occasionally across the river. He leaned forward gazing curiously as items of furniture and suitcases began to be unloaded. “Seriously?” he thought. “Hey Sarah! I think we have neighbours dear. Lunatics I suppose, but neighbours none the less.” He called through to the kitchen.
“Seriously?” Sarah said as she wandered back into the office from the kitchen. “Well, I hope they brought a sense of humour, they’re going to need it fixing that place up. Oh well. Good luck to them. I think I’ll take a stroll over and say hello.”
“Nooo dear!” Maurice snorted. “Give the poor buggers time to get unloaded.”
“I won’t be long. Just going to say hello and be right back okay?” Sarah replied as she headed for the door not waiting for a reply.
Maurice watched as Sarah wandered over the bridge to meet the new arrivals. Five minutes turned to ten which turned to fifteen. Maurice had gone back to working on his book when he noticed Sarah and two other people heading over the bridge. He climbed out of his chair and ambled to the front door.
“Maurice, this is Angela and Mackenzie. They are renting the delightful cottage on the other side of the river. I invited them over for tea. They don’t have much set up over there just now.”
“Yes dear, of course you did. Pleased to meet you both, come on in.” Maurice said throwing a scowl at Sarah who smiled back at him.
Angela explained what had brought them to this run down cottage in the wilds of Derbyshire. The house they were renting before had been sold under them and they’d moved in with Mackenzie’s father. This had been a temporary arrangement none of them were too happy with and Angela’s uncle had suggested this place. It was shabby, but cheap. Cheap enough for Angela’s uncle to rent for them and get them out of everyone’s hair.
“And why exactly would they want you out of their hair?” Maurice asked.
“Mackenzie had some issues with the police. Nothing serious and he didn’t do anything but they keep hounding him now.” Angela replied.
“Issues?” Maurice pushed.
Mackenzie jumped into the conversation at this point. As he leaned forward toward Maurice, Maurice noted the unmistakable scent of weed. A lot of it. Either young people were now buying “Eau De Weed” or this kid smoked it like a chimney.
“They accused me of pushing drugs. Never done it and never will. They stopped me late one night coming back from the pub and I had Angie’s painkillers in my pocket is all. I got this bad back see and sometime Angie lets me have a few of her codeine to help me get over it. No way would I sell them man, you know?” Mackenzie said.
“Right!” Maurice replied. “You both look young and fit, why would Angie want pai
nkillers?” He was right. Angela was cute, pretty and blonde if not a touch anorexic and Mackenzie was almost six foot tall and athletic with dark hair. Neither of them looked much older than their early twenties.
“Oh, Angie was in a bit of a car smash. Hurt her shoulder and has had trouble with it ever since.” Mackenzie replied. “I get these back twinges every now and then you know? Think it started after a football game maybe. But yeah, I take a couple of Angie’s pills to keep it away, no problem. Cops thought I was a dealer or something. We only smoke weed man. Just now and then you know? Not like all the time or anything and we don’t have any with us, right?”
“Right” Maurice replied. “Well we don’t have any pills here except the occasional aspirin sort of thing. And we haven’t smoked a joint in forever. Smoke yourselves to death, I don’t mind. We don’t want police up here though, so keep it to yourselves, aye?”
“Well of course we will!” Angela snapped. “We’re not druggies you know? Just for relaxing is all.”
Maurice smiled at her and gently said “No, no I wasn’t suggesting you were. Enjoy the peace here and nobody will bother you. Nice to have new faces to look at around here.”
Sarah leaned forward and filled them all a glass of red wine. “How about something to eat? I’ve got a roast lamb in the oven. Far too much for us two. Let’s all sit ourselves in the dining room and I’ll bring it in.”
As Maurice set out plates and cutlery for the four of them Sarah proceeded to ferry in the roast lamb and all the trimmings. She was right. She had made enough to feed a dozen guests and after a couple more bottles of red, Angela and Mackenzie departed slowly home to their new cottage over the bridge.
“Pill poppers. Sheesh!” Maurice said.
“Well, I could certainly smell the pot and they both seemed to have a constant sniffle but they do seem nice young people. Maybe that place over the river is what they need to get them away from that sort of rubbish.” Sarah replied.
“Aye well, let’s hope so. I don’t want invading by any drug addict buddies or the bloody police for that matter. Let’s call it a night shall we?” Maurice said as he dragged his body from the dinner table and collected up the dishes.
They made their way upstairs to bed and collapsed in each other’s arms. Gazing out of their bedroom window they could see the lights sparkling upstairs from the cottage across the river. This was something they had never experienced since they moved here. Having people so close, so young and so far - complicated, it was going to be a change. A big change it seemed.
Maurice was up early the next morning and stood gazing across the river to the old cottage. Outside he could see the beat up old Volkswagen camper they had arrived in and assumed it was also their get around vehicle. It was old, rusted and the paintjob looked like they’d left it in a schoolyard with a set of paints and brushes beside it. Still, Maurice was a touch envious. He loved old camper vans and he had always loved to travel. He wondered if those two would ever travel further than town and back in it. Quality wasted on the young again, he thought to himself as he heard Sarah stirring in bed.
“Come back to bed darling. Too early for us and I’m sure far too early for our new neighbours.” Sarah smiled through sleepy eyes. Maurice looked over to her, smiled and nodded and returned to the warmth of his bed and Sarah.
Later that morning as Maurice was preparing a second pot of coffee, they could hear the clattering and banging of the new arrivals moving stuff in and around their new home. Maurice and Sarah gazed through the dining room windows, watching the two new arrivals from the comfort of their armchairs. It was soon after that Mackenzie slammed shut the van doors, and started the engine. He pulled out of the dry stone walled gate down the road to the nearest town. It was a good few hours into the afternoon before Mackenzie returned and as he staggered out of the car, it was apparent he wasn’t too capable. He made his way to the front door and fumbled his way in. Maurice and Sarah listened as they heard shouting before it went quiet again.
“Did you see that? He looked totally out of his head. No way should he be driving in that condition” Sarah said.
“Not our monkey darling. I have a feeling it isn’t booze in him either. Hopefully they’ll keep it on that side of the river and won’t bother us with it. Anyway, I have work to finish and then I’ll start us some dinner. Chops okay?” Maurice replied.
“Chops will be fine.” Sarah replied. Not taking her eyes off the cottage across the bridge.
In the following days it came as no surprise that either Mackenzie or Angela would make regular visits to borrow various items to repair the old cottage. Both Maurice and Sarah had to agree that it was eventually starting to look like a place to live in. The views of course across the wide open moorland was spectacular. That part certainly didn’t need any repair work. As the days ambled on they also noted Mackenzie’s regular trips out in the van and returning in less than a capable state. That and the fact that the tools and other essential items they were borrowing didn’t seem to make their way back home again.
“Give ‘em time Maurice. Give ‘em time. They’ll settle down in a few weeks. No loud parties so far and we haven’t seen so much as a visitor there yet.” Sarah soothingly said to Maurice one afternoon as he was peering across the bridge from his desk.
“I guess you’re right. They seem nice enough apart from being totally stoned twenty four seven. I don’t know how they actually manage to get anything done in that stupor. But well, it’s not our problem is it?” Maurice responded.
That evening both Angela and Mackenzie arrived on the doorstep. Angela was clutching a bottle of wine and Mackenzie a case of beer. “We thought it was time to celebrate the new place guys. Would you like to come on over for something like a housewarming?” Angela asked. “You might need to bring a couple of glasses though, we’ve only got coffee mugs just now.”
“Give us a half hour and we’ll be over.” Sarah said. “Yes I’ll bring some glasses. A housewarming sounds a wonderful idea doesn’t it Maurice?”
Maurice shuffled backwards from the door to head back into his office. “Yes, yes of course a delightful idea. Well done chaps. Just got some finishing off to do here and we’ll be right over okay? Okay Sarah?” Maurice said as he headed back into the office and closed the door behind him. He sank into his chair and grimaced. “This could be a long evening.” He thought to himself as he spun in the chair. Just as Sarah opened the door and came in glaring at him.
“Well! You could have tried to be a bit more enthusiastic dear. We won’t stay too long but at least they offered. Now get done and find me that box of old wine glasses from the back room. They’ll probably need a rinse before we take them. I’m not expecting them back so we won’t be taking the good ones okay?” Sarah said.
Maurice grinned as he pivoted toward her in the chair. “Yes dear of course. Go and put your war paint on and I’ll sort some glasses. No I wasn’t expecting to see anything we take over there again.” He laughed.
Half an hour later they were making their way over the bridge to the old cottage. They had brought a couple of decent wines to fill the gap, knowing a bottle of the cheap stuff would set Maurice’s teeth on edge all night. Looking back over their shoulder at their own little cottage brought a smile to both of them. The porch light was just beginning to sparkle as the evening light began to fade. It was a perfect setting in a perfect world for them.
Angela was already waiting at the door when they arrived and ushered them in to the living room. On one side was the kitchen, covered almost wall to wall with an old Aga wood cooker. Heavy oak beams supported the low ceiling, embedded with old horse brasses that sparkled in the light of the huge open fire that was blazing across the room in the dining-come-sitting-room. Around the fire were a long sofa and two old armchairs. Maurice noted that all the furniture must be no later than mid-nineteenth-century. He was quite amazed and impressed at how just about all the fixtures and furniture were real antiques. Angela and Mackenzie had made a wond
erful job of cleaning the place up. Downstairs anyway. Maurice had to comment. “This my friends, really does deserve a toast. You’ve done wonders to the old place. It looks fantastic. Well done!”
“I have to say” Sarah said. “He’s right. I had no idea what to expect but this certainly wasn’t it. It’s quite beautiful.”
Angela guided them to the narrow staircase and upstairs. “We still have a lot to do up here but at least the bedroom and bathroom are useable.” Sarah and Maurice followed her up the stairs to a small but quaint bedroom. A large, old double bed with a wrought iron bedhead took centre stage. On each side of the bed was a small table and to the side by the door an old wooden dresser. The window looked out onto the open moorland. The view was spectacular and Maurice noted how it faced due west. The sunsets must be amazing from here he pondered.
Returning downstairs to the sitting room, Mackenzie had already poured four glasses of the wine Sarah had brought.
“I noticed you’d brought the good stuff, right? If we’re going to have a toast to the house we should use it I thought. If that’s okay?” Mackenzie said smiling.
Sarah laughed as she took the glass. “I brought it to be drunk. Here’s to your new home. I hope it brings you plenty of good times.” She said as she raised her glass. Maurice followed her lead and the four of them raised their glasses to each other.
As the evening wore on Maurice noticed that both Mackenzie and Angela needed regular visits to the bathroom. Each time they returned they would be more talkative but the words were becoming more and more slurred. By midnight, Mackenzie was drooling from the side of his mouth as he tried to get the glass to his lips. He giggled as he looked over at Angela and made his way up to the bathroom. They could all hear him crashing against the side of the wall for balance as he made his way upstairs, then the inevitable crash of his body hitting the floor once he reached the top.
Thriller: Horror: The Cottage (Mystery Suspense Thrillers) (Haunted Paranormal Short Story) Page 1
