DarkMan
Ghosts and Haunted Houses
Caroline Clark
Spooky Night Books
Contents
Orbs and What They Mean
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Called From Beyond – Preview
The Haunting of RedRise House – Preview
More Books from Caroline Clark
About the Author
Untitled
Orbs and What They Mean
“The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe.
I know that ghosts have wandered on earth.
Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss,
where I cannot find you!”
— Emily Bronte
In this book I have written about a haunting that involves an orb. These can be quite controversial. Many times floating orbs on photographs, especially cell phone photographs or videos are simply dust or light reflecting off particles in the air. However, I do believe that true spirit orbs do exist.
In my research I have found many people who have seen orbs, both malevolent and friendly.
When seen with the naked eye, and some orbs can be quite large, it is difficult to discount then as anything but a supernatural phenomenon.
Orbs, in my humble opinion, are the true form of spirits manifesting on this plane.
Many paranormal investigators would agree with this definition.
Meaning is given to the orbs by the various colors and the darker the orb the more malevolent the spirit.
In this book I use a dark blue orb who is assaulting a woman. This is also not an uncommon occurrence in the spirit world.
Some spirits do not just appear, they can physically interact with those they wish to hurt. Finding their motives is the first step to moving them off this plane and helping those they have haunted.
I hope you enjoy this book and take another look at those photos. Is that just a speck of dust or is something waiting in the darkness?
Happy Hauntings,
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Called From Beyond – The Spirit Guide
A non-believer, a terrible accident, a stupid mistake. Is Mark going mad or was his girlfriend Called from Beyond? http://a-fwd.to/1w2qbGw
The Haunting of RedRise House
Dark things happened in RedRise House. Acts so bad they left a stain on the soul of the building. Now something is lurking there... waiting... dare you enter this most haunted house? http://a-fwd.to/7APCHD3
The Haunting of Brynlee House
Based on a real haunted house - Brynlee House has a past, a secret, it is one that would be best left buried. http://a-fwd.to/2UiiG7w
The Haunting of Seafield House
Gail wants to create some memories – if she survives the night in Seafield House it is something she will never forget. http://a-fwd.to/6UXsowk
The Haunting of Shadow Hill House
A move for a better future becomes a race against the past. Something dark lurks in Shadow Hill House and it is waiting. http://a-fwd.to/5HMB7UX
Chapter 1
Margie felt a sense of dread as she approached the door of her bungalow. It was late, dark, and the empty house waited like a beast to pounce upon her. Sinking its jaws into her neck, it would pull her down into the depths of depression and despondency that seemed normal now. Shuffling the heavy shopping bags, she pushed a lock of her brown bob back behind her ear and reached into her jacket pocket for the keys.
Even such a gesture threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but she pushed them away and reached for the door. As she did so, there was movement inside, and an entirely different fear went through her.
Was someone there?
The emptiness that usually filled her with dread was now something she wanted. Had she left the door unlocked again, or even open as she had last week? If so, anyone could be inside. Maybe she should not go in; maybe she should go to a friend’s house. But, no one came to mind. Then she saw the curtains move in the bedroom. A shift of white taffeta. A smile crossed her face; here she was jumping at shadows when she had simply left the window open, and that was all she had seen. Grief and exhaustion were taking their toll once more.
As she unlocked the door, the light from the moon beamed into the bedroom. It shone on a picture of Margie with a man. They looked blissfully happy and deeply in love. When she shut the door, the picture fell face down with a clatter, onto the table.
Margie jumped and shock raced through her, lifting the hairs on her arms and filling her stomach with acid.
A bitter laugh escaped her. It was just the wind. No one was here. No one would be here ever again. Now the fear had gone, replaced with the darkness inside that she could not shake off. Clicking on the lights, she walked through to the small kitchen and placed the bags on the counter.
It was 9:30, dark, and chilly. She craved the long summer nights when she had sat outside just talking, or even in companionable silence. When Alan was here everything was so much easier. Only he was gone now and she had to learn to cope.
Shaking herself, she took a small can of beans out of the shopping bag and placed it on the counter. One by one she unloaded the shopping, even it was pitiful: two cans of tuna; a small can of tomatoes; A few yogurts; 1/2 a loaf of bread; a small packet of ham; a little pack of mince and a small bottle of milk. With tears pricking at the back of her eyes, she placed the shopping into the cupboards and fridge and then clicked on the kettle. Maybe a cup of chamomile tea would make her feel better; but, somehow she doubted it.
While the kettle boiled, she wandered into the bedroom and picked up the picture. Her eyes could not leave the face of the man standing next to her. It was a sweet face with a big wide smile. How she missed that smile.
"Why did you leave me, Alan?"
Pale blue eyes stared back, but did not answer. He had gone, she was alone, and there was no answer, no sense in what had happened. She just had to get on with what was left of her life but - how could she do such a thing?
Putting the picture down, she glanced at the bed. Though she was tired to the point of exhaustion, the rose-patterned duvet didn’t call to her. She had not slept in it since that day. Looking at it, she wondered if she would ever sleep in it again. With a sigh she turned to make her tea.
Behind her, the wind howled through the curtains and the window caught on the latch. It banged, and then broke free of the catch. The breeze seemed angry as it circled into the room and once more the picture was knocked over. It landed face down with a clatter that seemed to shake her to her bones. With a hand clutched to her chest, she reached for the picture. It didn't seem right to leave it face down; it didn't seem respectful.
Just as her hand touched it, the wind roared through the windows. The str
ength of it frightened her as it rocked her on her feet, and then the window slammed shut with a bang.
Margie jumped and let out a yelp of fear. This was not the first time strange things had happened. She was beginning to wonder if it was all in her mind or if someone was playing tricks on her.
There were cold spots in the house, times when she felt a hand on her shoulder just as she drifted off to sleep. Or, she would wake to the sound of whispers and could swear that lips were touching her ear. At first it was sweet, bringing her out of darkness, but then the memories swarmed over her, engulfed her in despair, and the whispers became more threatening.
Then last night, she could swear she had seen somebody standing at the edge of the bed. She had been curled under the duvet on the worn brown sofa. Logically, she knew it was just her own tortured mind, but it had been so real.
The room seemed calmer now, so she picked up the picture and placed it back in its rightful place. Then she walked to the kitchen and made her cup of tea.
Sitting on the sofa, she sipped at the calming drink, but it brought her no sense of peace and no pleasure.
What was there left now?
What was the point of anything?
Closing her eyes, she tried to relax. The sound of the picture slamming once more onto the bedside table was like a blow inside her chest. Eyes instantly open, she stood up, throwing hot tea on the sofa and down her leg. She let out a squeal and jumped to her feet.
Patting at the scalding liquid she called out, "Who's there?"
There was no answer, but the room felt different. For over a week now she had never felt alone, and she turned around fully expecting to see someone standing behind her. No one was there. Of course, no one was there. How could she be so stupid?
Maybe the picture was telling her something. Maybe it was time to let him go. She had to do something, for she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. So, she decided to put it in the drawer and then she would clean up the tea. Walking towards the bedroom, the lights went out and she was plunged into darkness.
Fear snaked down her spine and filled her stomach with ice. She heard the window open and a cold breeze pushed her backward.
Margie fought against the wind as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could hear the window banging open and closed… open and closed… open and closed. In her mind it was like a mouth, something evil coming to eat her up, to take away everything that was once her, and leave behind just this bland and useless shell.
The wind howled. It was cold, so cold that she saw her breath mist before her eyes. At least she could see a little now. The streetlight behind the bungalow cast strange shadows into the house. She should be used to them by now. In the past, they had been friendly shadows. Alan called them the gargoyles. When the streetlight shone behind the furniture it looked like strange creatures were crouching in the darkness, but she had never feared them.
That is, until now.
Now they lurked in wait for her and her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at them, trying to discern whether they were real or just shadows.
Margie realized she hadn't taken a breath and she gulped to take in the desperately needed air.
What was going on?
She had thought about going to the police over the strange occurrences... and yet when she tried to put it into words, it all sounded so foolish. What would she tell them? That she was frightened of the dark? That the lights went out and the house felt cold? That she heard things and had imagined someone was there? It all sounded like she was a crazy old lady. Though she was only 52, she suddenly felt old. There was nothing she could really report other than just a feeling of being threatened and that she was not alone. Yet, nothing had really happened.
Through the windows, she could see that in the neighbor’s house the lights were still on, and yet her house was in darkness. It was as if somebody was trying to frighten her, pushing her to the limit. Slowly she made her way to the fuse box, though she knew the fuses would be fine and that the power would come on again soon; it always did. Still, the box was just in the hallway and checking it would give her something to think about. Crossing the dining room she stopped, her foot standing in a pool of liquid. It slipped beneath her shoe and caused her stomach to flip inside of her.
Looking down at the floor, she saw an oval puddle of viscous fluid. Even in the semi-darkness it looked like blood, and in her heart, she knew it was.
Was she just imagining this?
Just making it all up?
Was it just stress?
Maybe she should do what her friend had said and go to her doctor. Maybe she needed some medication just for the short term. Yet, how could she explain what was happening?
As she stood shivering in the cold, her foot poised above a pool of blood, all she wanted to do was drop to her knees and cry… to cry and to scream out the unfairness of the situation. Why her?
Before she could even think of an answer, a cold blue ball of light appeared in the room. It circled her and then danced before her eyes. It was strangely beautiful and yet deeply disturbing. It raced around the room, across the curtains, and toward the fireplace. There were six snow globes spaced evenly on the mantelpiece. The light danced through each one, filling it with a glow for a moment and then moving onto the next. It was beautiful, and she heard her breath catch. Then it filled the last of the globes with darkness, with blood. As it left the globe, she knew it was after her. It was coming toward her again and it had harm on its mind.
The orb circled her, pushing her backward. Each time it came close, there was a slight feel of static and an overwhelming pressure. Bit by bit she stepped away from it until her knees hit the sofa and she felt rough hands push her down.
Hands!
Her breath misted before her and she was cold, so very cold. The orb was in front of her now. Hanging there in the darkness, eye to eye, it held her in its glare.
There was no longer anything beautiful about it and nothing magical. Instead, she felt threatened. The orb moved back and she let out a breath of relief. But then, rough hands hit her chest and she was pushed hard, back onto the sofa.
Fear filled her with ice as hands so cold, they burned through her clothing, traced across her shoulders, her cheeks, and then ran down her body. They skipped over her breasts and down to her waist.
“Get away from me!” she shouted.
The hands pulled back, and yet still there was nothing there, nothing but the orb.
It moved back, hovered in front of her, and then it came at her so fast. Margie closed her eyes and cowered away from it. Something hit her cheek, hard. It was like being slapped with an open, calloused hand.
Pressure filled her head and pushed her further into the sofa.
Opening her eyes, she saw the globe. It floated in front of her, bobbing back and forth as if taunting her.
A great cold weight pressed upon her body. She tried to fight it, but hands clasped onto her wrists and forced her arms above her head where they held her wrists.
“Oh,” she cried out in pain.
It burned and hurt so much that she thought her bones would snap.
With her hands held above her head, the weight pushed down on her until she couldn’t breathe. It intensified to such a point that she was filled with pain... her tortured lungs screamed as if they would burst. The pressure increased until it felt as if her ribs would break and her bones would shatter.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
The pressure eased and then was gone; so was the orb.
For long moments she sat in the dark, and then as if nothing had happened, the lights came back on and the bungalow felt empty once more. Whatever had been there had gone.
Margie dropped her head into her hands and wept. Was she going mad? If not, what did it mean?
Chapter 2
Jesse stared at the ring in the small black box in front of him. It sparkled like only a diamond could, filling him with both joy and terror
in equal measures. Running a hand through his short dark hair, he knew he had nothing to fear. Gail loved him and they had spoken about marriage on many occasions. There just never seemed to be time, or it never seemed to be the right time.
Only life had taught him that time could be short. He had nearly lost Gail not so long ago. Since then, marriage had constantly been on his mind. However, they had both decided that the move should be made first. They had moved from London to the Yorkshire countryside into a house that had once been haunted.
At last, he had decided tonight was the right time. Quickly, he put the box back in his pocket and ran across the street, pondering the reasons he had waited so long.
After their move, his best friend Mark had lost his girlfriend, Alissa, in a tragic spirit-related road accident. It made Jesse realize how much he had to lose and how little time there might be. More than anything, he wanted to marry Gail, and he had decided to propose tonight. He had come into town to get the ingredients to cook up a nice chicken tikka. It was going to be a wonderful night. There should be candles on the table, wine in the fridge. Did they have any candles?
As he had the thought, he noticed a new shop just up the street.
Occult Mysteries.
Jesse was instantly pulled in that direction. He could never resist anything about the occult, and a new store in town was something he would have to investigate.
Before he went in he checked his watch. He had time to have a quick visit and still get back to make Gail a dream meal before she arrived home.
DarkMan: Ghosts and Haunted Houses (The Spirit Guide Book 3) Page 1
