Somehow it was open on a paranormal romance. A girl, Susan, was lost in a time warp where she kept returning to the same spot over and over again. A ghost, Ben, was trying to help her but he couldn’t quite break through the vale. He had to watch her being tormented by his brother, an evil spirit out for revenge on her family. As Ben tried to save her, his brother Graham wanted to harm her all because her great, great, grandfather had stolen the woman he loved. Ben found himself falling further and further in love with her and yet to save her he had to destroy his brother. Could he do it?
Susan did not know that the two men were spirits until half way through the book. By this time, she had already fallen for Ben. As he saved her life she had to decide whether to free him and never see him again or whether to cling selfishly to his love.
Rosie stopped reading just as she was about to make the decision. That was as far as she had written and she wanted to read the end of the story. It was obviously her own writing and yet it was like nothing she had written before. It was much better and much more real. Was this what her nightmare had been all about? If it were, she would cope with a few nightmares just to finish this story. So, how would it finish?
Closing her eyes, she tried to get inside the characters but nothing would come and then her stomach gave an almighty rumble. She was hungry. When was the last time she had eaten? It felt like days ago and maybe it was. She had been unable to face food after the maggot incident. But there were cans in the pantry and bread in the fridge. That had to be all right, didn’t it?
Knowing she must eat she set off to the kitchen. The cat followed and she opened it a can of tuna. It meowed its thanks and tucked into the food.
Rosie took the bread out of the fridge and checked it thoroughly before popping 2 slices under the grill. Then she took out some cheese and checked it over too. It looked fine and so she cut some slices while the toast cooked. Then she smothered the bread in cheese and put it back under the grill, while the kettle boiled. Once everything was done she took her tea and toast back to the bedroom.
Eating, she reread the last chapter of the book and tried to get inside the characters once more. Nothing happened. It was as if they wouldn’t talk to her and she was getting frustrated. She closed the laptop, took a quick shower and got dressed. Then she grabbed her phone and took her plate and cup back to the kitchen. Her plan was to wash them, make a list of food she needed and then go for a walk. She could walk down the driveway and see how far she had to go until she got a signal. It couldn’t be that far and at least if she knew then it would be something to comfort her the next time she had a nightmare.
As she walked into the kitchen she could hear whispering and then she noticed the door in the corner was open. The one with the note on it telling her not to enter. How had that happened?
Slowly, cautiously she approached it. As she looked into the door she could see steep steps leading away into a dark hole. About five steps down was a young girl. She looked about eight. Her unkempt hair was ruffled and flat as if she had just got out of bed.
Their eyes met and the girl brought a finger to her lips. The sign for silence.
Rosie nodded.
The girl gave a slight smile and beckoned her to follow.
Rosie looked behind her. There was no one there and so the girl must mean her but could she follow. Could she go down those stairs, and to where?
“Be quick before Matron finds us,” the girl whispered.
Rosie nodded and followed her onto the stairs. The door closed behind her and the stairway was plunged into darkness. Rosie felt her chest tighten and the breath catch in her throat. Then a match flared and light filled the passageway. The girl was holding an old-fashioned oil lantern. With a quick nod, she turned away and began to descend.
Rosie wanted to ask who she was and what she was doing but her throat would not work. It was dry and blocked by a lump she just could not swallow.
Down and down they climbed and soon she could hear the sound of rushing water. What am I doing? Why am I following? Then she wondered if it was another dream, but when had she slept.
She felt into her pocket, her phone was there. Pulling it out she activated the torch but the light was so harsh that it stopped the girl. They stood on the stairs, so close they were eye to eye.
“Who are you?” she managed to ask.
“My name is Alice, and we must hurry. They want to keep you. Maybe, I can help you escape but we must hurry before Matron finds out.”
Alice turned and carried on going down and down the stairs.
A tingle of goosebumps rose on Rosie’s arms, she wanted to go back but she knew she must follow. At the bottom she could see an underground river racing past. There was a path alongside it that headed both left and right. Alice turned left as if she knew exactly where she was going. They came to a room and in front of them was a door.
Alice raised her finger to her lips again and stepped to one side. There was a small alcove filled with shelves, filled with books. Alice scoured the titles raising the lantern high and then stretched up on her tiptoes and pulled down a book and handed it to Rosie.
“Maybe this can help you. Matron is strong, she does not want you to leave. Maybe if you understand you can escape.” She handed over the book and lowered her head.
Rosie took the book it was cold and heavy in her hands. Leather lined, the cover felt slimy from the dampness in the air and she almost dropped it. Glancing down she read the title.
“The Sacrifices of RedRise House and the Resurrection of Old Hag.”
“What does it mean?” she asked but Alice had already turned away.
She was walking back towards the door and there was a look on her face which spoke of both hope and torture.
Rosie followed and watched as Alice approached the door. It opened as her hand touched the handle and she was pulled inside. Light flickered from the room and Rosie rushed forward to see the young girl surrounded by cloaked individuals. They did not look at Rosie. Maybe they couldn’t see her. Though she knew she should turn and run she felt drawn to watch. Somehow she knew this was not happening now. Maybe it was another nightmare and she was safe and sound in bed. Or maybe this was an echo from the past. One she had somehow tuned into. One she could watch but could not interrupt or alter. Though this made sense, she did not think about the book that weighed so heavily in her hands. If she had, she would have felt the full force of terror that knowledge would bring.
Stealthily she crept up to the door.
Alice thrashed desperately as two of the figures lifted her from her feet with practiced ease. With their thick heavy cloaks and dark hoods it was impossible to see any details of their features only one was shorter and not as broad. A woman?
The room fell silent as they carried Alice to a stone altar and laid her on top. Though it was dark, flickering torches chased ghostly shadows across the walls and Rosie noticed a grisly cache of bones behind the altar. It was piled with human skulls.
Her stomach heaved and her breakfast came back and onto the floor. No one looked her way, no one even flinched and she knew that she was invisible to them. Should she run, should she shout out... what could she do to save this girl, to save Alice?
Alice thrashed against the hands that held her but she had no hope. They were strong and bigger and Rosie knew that they had done this before. As the child tried to escape, they locked eyes. There was a silent plea in the terrified child’s glance. Her whites so wide her eyes seemed to fill her face.
“No,” Rosie screamed but no one moved, no one even acknowledged that she was there, except for Alice.
The young girl shook her head and gestured with her eyes for Rosie to go.
Frozen to the spot, Rosie could do little but nod her agreement. Somehow she knew that the child wanted her to escape. Maybe it was to bring justice to this place. Maybe if she told of what she had found, if the bones were buried then the child would finally have peace.
In the flickering light, a knife was
pulled from the cloak of one of the figures. It flashed in the darkness. Capturing what little light there was and amplifying it like some beacon of hope. Only there was no hope in the terrified child’s eyes. Now all they focused on was the sharpness of the cutting edge. It would slice through skin, sinew, muscle and maybe even bone without a moment’s hesitation.
Alice was shaking now, her body almost convulsing with fear and Rosie felt her own flesh quake in sympathy. The knife raised high above Alice and then it stopped. It was as if they wanted to prolong the terror, to draw out every second of fear and amplify it to the limit. Poor Alice was still now. Her face showed that she had given in, that all she wanted was for this to end. But it wouldn’t would it. How many times had she played out this very same scene?
Rosie wondered if she was the first housekeeper to see this or if there had been others. If so what had happened to them? Had they escaped? No, if they had, then the police would have come... stop it this is just a dream. Her logical mind tried to interrupt but she knew it was lying, this was not a dream; this was real.
Breath held, she waited for the killing blow, just as Alice did before her. Only the figure pushed back her hood and the child’s eyes opened even wider.
“Matron,” she said.
The woman turned and looked at Rosie, Thin lips curled into a semblance of a smile yet there was nothing warm about the gesture. “You’re next,” she said just before the knife fell.
Rosie jerked at the blow and let out a mournful scream.
Chapter 13
“Noooo!” Rosie screamed and tried to run forward to stop the fall of the blade.
It was not possible, she wouldn’t make it and yet she had to try. The cellar seemed darker now and the blade hung in the air as she kicked off from a standstill. Heart in her mouth, she reached out with her arms, shouting and screaming to try to make them turn. Something caught onto her legs. Held them tight and she started to stumble, to fall.
Had they got her? Fighting against them, her arms were pinned to her sides. The knife hit the apex and began to fall towards the terrified child. Alice was not moving now. She lay there as if she was paralyzed by the arc of the blade.
Rosie thrashed and fought against the unseen hands as the blade began its fall. Sweeping through the air as she kicked and punched her unseen assailants. It was darker now and panic clawed at her throat and crushed her chest. Breath could not get to her lungs as she started to hyperventilate.
The blade hit the child in the heart and she heard a scrape as it hit the stone below. Horror threatened to overwhelm her, to shut her down just as it had Alice. Calm, she knew she had to be calm but how could she when she was held tight? It was no longer about saving Alice. The child must be already dead but she had to escape. To run from this house and never come back. Kicking and struggling she felt a little movement and launched herself forward with all she had. Maybe she could escape.
Then she was falling.
Landing with a thump her eyes flew open and it was light. A sharp pain in her hip bone had her scream out in pain and brought her back to reality.
She had been dreaming again. It was just a dream.
Wiping sweat from her face she looked around. She was lying on the floor of the opulent bedroom. The covers tangled all around her. The cat stood at the door a sad expression on its face.
Rosie laughed. “A dream, just a damned dream.”
The cat came across and rubbed against her, meowing to gain her attention. Rosie lifted it up and stroked the animal. It was good to have company and she hugged it close. The cat leaped from her arms at such undignified treatment and went to the door, meowing pitifully.
Rosie ran a hand through her hair and gingerly got to her feet. Her hip was bruised but it held her weight. Looking back at the room she had to laugh again. It looked as if she had launched herself from the bed and landed over four feet away. She was lucky to have not broken anything but at least she knew it was all just a dream. Maybe, if she was lucky, she had written some more of the story.
Was the story real?
She remembered reading it the last time she woke but had that happened? Standing, she found out her phone just as her stomach gave a massive rumble. She was hungry, in fact she was starving. Picking up her phone she looked at the time. It was 9.45 again. That was strange, wasn’t that the same time as yesterday? Shaking her head she pushed the fact out of her mind. It must have just been part of her dream but as she looked at the phone’s screen she almost dropped it to the floor. It was the 5th of September. Somehow, she had lost 2 days!
* * *
A wave of fatigue and hunger drove Rosie to the kitchen. She must eat and yet, she did not want to. Was the cheese on toast part of her dream or had she actually eaten it? As she got to the kitchen she spotted the book on the table. It stopped her in her tracks and her blood ran cold. It was large, old, and leather bound. It was the book from her dream! She remembered the weight of it in her hands, the feel of the leather and the way it was slimy against her skin and her heart missed a beat. How could this be? Where had it come from? If the book was real then was her dream and how had she got back to the bed?
A shudder ran through her as her mind tried to think of a logical explanation. The door in the corner drew her eyes. It was closed and looked like it hadn’t been open in years. Should she take a look? What would she do if it opened onto those dark and cold steps? What was going on? Her hand reached out and caressed the leather. It felt just as she imagined. A little slimy as if it was damp. How could this be here when she woke on the bedroom floor? It didn’t make sense.
Another grumble from her tummy took her mind away from the book and back to food. It was as if she had forgotten all about last night, all about the dream. Some part of her mind knew this was wrong but it was just a tiny voice in the distance and she pushed it away in her search for sustenance.
Opening the fridge, she saw bread and cheese. They were untouched. She guessed eating it was part of her dream. Pulling them from the fridge she checked the food over. It looked fresh and was void of all creepy crawly bugs. Quickly she prepared herself a snack and boiled the kettle so she could make some tea.
With the snack prepared she sat down on the table and put the plate next to the book. For a moment she was shocked to see it there and then she remembered.
The title read, “The Sacrifices of RedRise House and the Resurrection of Old Hag.” It was exactly the same as in her dream. It was about this house, and it was real.
Taking a bite of toasted cheese, she then opened the book and began to read. It seemed to be a journal and was written by a man called Bartholomew Matthews. He had been the butler to a wealthy family but he did not mention their names. There was a wife, husband, and five children three girls and two boys. Though he cared very much for them he loved his own family more and he was devastated when his wife died in childbirth leaving him with a sickly daughter. He named the child Mabel, Mabel Matthews and he doted on her as only a father can. When she was eight years old she developed a sickness, consumption, and gradually faded away.
Rosie was reading the book faster and faster and felt transported back into his world. She could feel his pain and understand his desperation.
I have to do something to save my baby girl, he wrote. She's all I have left and she is everything to me. I would give my life. I would give my very soul to keep her safe. If there is a God or anything out there that can help me, then I offer myself to save my beautiful Mabel.
Rosie found she had tears running down her eyes as she read the words. How awful it must be to love someone so much and to not be able to save them. If only it was possible to swap your own life for that of someone else's… How many of us would make such a choice?
She took another sip of tea, turned over the page, and read on.
I did not expect an answer to my prayer and yet I got one. Though I do not know if this is God or something dark and insidious. It is my only hope. Day by day, hour by hour my baby girl fades
before my eyes. The pain she is in rips out my heart and I weep for every agonizing breath that she takes. What can I do? Do I accept the arrangement I have been offered? Yet, the presence that came to me feels cold and sinister and still I am compelled to accept the deal. If I do not what sort of father am I?
Rosie found she was reading faster and faster and she took another sip of tea just to slow herself down. Surely this was a story, a fabrication and yet it was written as if it was a journal. As if Bartholomew was telling the tale of what actually happened.
A drawing filled the rest of the page. It showed a man and yet, his features, if you looked at them from a certain angle, were those of a gargoyle. Of a demon?
Rosie stared at the drawing for long moments. It was like one of those computer-generated images that if you looked at it from certain angles you saw one thing and at other angles something else. Yet, this was pencil drawn, or at least it looked to be. How could something so intricate and complicated be made out of something quite so simple? Slowly, she turned the page, as she did the energy in the room seemed to change. Behind her the kitchen door slammed and she jumped in her seat as adrenaline sent spikes of fear through her veins. The door opened again and slammed shut. Once more it did the same thing but this time it was accompanied by other doors in the house. The cacophony of doors opening and closing, slamming against the jam and then flying back filled the house with a roaring chaos that was like a physical assault. Rosie cowered in the chair her hand on the book, her eyes searched the room and yet found nothing.
The doors got faster and faster the noise rising with the speed and at the same time the air hummed with electricity. Rosie knew she must escape that she must get out of here but she was too scared to move. Where would she go anyway? She could not get through the door without being trapped in the wooden jaws which would break bones at the very least.
The Haunting of RedRise House: Ghosts and Haunted Houses Page 8
