The White Door
A Visitors Series Novel
Christy Sloat
CHBB Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Credits
About The Brown House
What Readers Are Saying
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Untitled
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Copyright
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Credits
Written by Christy Sloat
Edited by Cheree Castellanos
Published by CHBB Publishing
Cover Art by Aurelia Fray of Pretty AF Designs
About The Brown House
The Brown house is taboo. It’s not talked about in social circles, because it’s too terrifying to imagine the horrors that went on inside its walls. Brylee isn’t scared anymore, but that’s because she’s a dead-talker and can tolerate her ghostly roommates. She’s trying to move on with her life after the crisis that took place, but it’s hard to do so after the death of a loved one. When a body rises in her back yard, her town goes nuts. Suddenly they’re banging on her door and shouting for justice. And once again, malevolence comes out to play. They say fire burns brighter in the darkness, but it also hurts like hell.
What Readers Are Saying
“To say that I loved this book is totally an understatement. Anyone who enjoys a spooky good read with strong characters, a fast paced, visually stimulating plot that will have your heart pounding and even the hair on the back of your neck standing up just a bit should pick up The Brown House.”
Readersfavorite.com
“The Brown House is a fabulous tale reinvented by the author from stories passed down by her husband and his family. Mrs. Sloat expanded on these stories and weaved them into an intriguing tale of mystery, secrets, and young love.”
Spirits and Spells Reviews
“Once I got into this book, I couldn't put it down. I stayed up until the early morning hours saying, "Oh one more chapter."
The Writing World
“The Brown House is well-written, suspenseful, and interesting, and will create a great ghost story for those, who like me, have been craving one. I can't wait to see what comes next.”
The YA Lit Chick
Acknowledgments
Without the support of my husband and two daughters these books wouldn’t be possible. So, I thank them for allowing me to hide away and write.
And mostly, thanks to the readers. Your undying support is overwhelming and gives me the drive to keep going.
Prologue
I was sure Wilson High had never seemed intriguing, at least not to anyone in Wilson, New Jersey.
It sat in the middle of Nowhere, Jersey, surrounded by millions of trees. It was definitely nothing like my old school. The classes were inside an ancient brick building and the linoleum floors screamed tacky. Hell, the school mascot was a fox named Foxy.
Yet, it was my school now. I was a senior and would graduate and become an alumna of Wilson High, home of our mascot Foxy the Fox.
Every student gave me a look filled with pity as I entered the school grounds. They had learned of Lynley’s death over the summer and they all felt horrible. Maybe they should feel horrible. Not a single one of them had ever cared about her while she was alive, they only gave a damn now that she was gone. They were concerned only because it was considered a ‘tragic loss’ for the school. They should feel guilty for being snobs to her while she was alive. Lynley had never been the popular girl, even though Ephraim, her brother, was. She was incessantly teased by the school mean girls, mostly because she was considered plain looking. There was nothing plain about Lynley, at least not that I could see. She had had beautiful, bright red hair and the clearest blue eyes I had ever seen.
Even though her death had been ruled an accidental overdose, I alone knew the truth. She hadn’t killed herself on accident or on purpose either. Her mother had made her take the pills. It was murder, not suicide. Of course, no one here knew the real truth, well, besides me and Ephraim. Her mother was Evangeline Barclay, the most famous witch in history along the East coast. Everyone knew the history of the Barclay sisters. They were thought to be dead, but I soon found out she was living next door to me.
Evangeline had killed a woman named Carole many years before. In doing so, it allowed her to take over her body and evade Everett Brown, the man who was hunting for her and her sister, Agnes. She hid as Carole for many years, even marrying a Mayhew and bearing two children, Ephraim and Lynley. The Mayhew family knew who she was and hid her secret well, up until the day I found out.
It was too late for Lynley, though. I couldn’t save my best friend’s life, but she wasn’t gone from me forever. Her spirit still lived in my house. She was trapped there because of a curse that held all of the Brown family members captive. As much as I wanted her to be alive, I was thankful that I still had her in some way.
We weren’t sure of what the future would hold for us, but we were sure of one thing: Evangeline’s power was locked inside a room in my house and she would return to claim it.
Chapter 1
I jogged to my first class and sat in the seat. I had just made it in time to hear my name being called out for attendance. “Here,” I shouted. The teacher, Miss Hailey, shook her head. Almost late on the first day was never good, especially in Miss Hailey’s class. Ephraim had warned me ahead of time about her and I hadn’t listened.
She continued to call students names as I pulled out a fresh pen and pad of paper for notes, another thing Ephraim told me I needed to do to survive her class. Lyn stood by the white board and looked around at the students. My heart ached to see her standing there and not sitting among us.
“Sophie Parsons,” the teacher said. I didn’t know a Sophie Parsons.
“Here.”
I turned toward the sound of the voice. She was sitting three seats behind me, pulling her long black hair over her shoulder. The boys all looked at her, a new girl for them to drool over. She shot me a quick glance and a dazzling smile. I smiled back. Maybe she and I could be friends or study partners.
“Sophie is new to our school, so please make her feel welcome,” Miss Hailey said.
I knew all about being the new girl. No one except Lyn had made me feel welcome and I felt it was my duty to do the same for Sophie. I turned around to show Lyn that I too could help a new girl. As I did, I heard a commotion from the front of the room. I flipped back around just in time to see paper go flying off of Miss Hailey’s desk. I searched the room for Lyn, knowing she was responsible for the mess. But she had vanished, leaving nothing but scatte
red papers in her wake.
I rushed from first period and ran down the hallway, looking for Lyn. She couldn’t have gone far, could she? My first day as a senior wasn’t starting out like I had imagined. Lynley disappeared on me, and in the wake of said disappearance she had left destruction behind. Literal destruction, after she threw papers all around my first period class. Maybe it was because I befriended the new girl, Sophie Parsons, then again, maybe not. Lynley wasn’t usually that type of girl, but now she was dead. Who knew what death did to a person and their feelings. Maybe it made you jealous and angry to see those you love spend time with people who were living. All I knew was that she was gone and I had to make it to second period before the bell rang.
I ran around the last corner toward the lunch room, hoping to find her. What I found was my best friend hiding under the water fountain. I bent down and looked her in the eyes as I said under my breath, “What are you doing? What happened in there?”
She shrugged. Great! She would choose now to be difficult.
“I have no idea! All I know is that one minute I was standing there and the next I was thrown from the room. I have no idea how or why, or hell, by whom. Here I am though,” she said finally.
The first bell rang and I knew I only had one minute before final bell. I had to make a choice, either leave her here for the sake of promptness or stay with her. I sat on the cold linoleum and held her hand. Screw class, my decision was made.
“What was it like?” I asked intently.
“Like someone picked me up and threw me out of the class, literally,” she answered. “Listen, you better go. I will meet you at the car later, okay?”
I bit my lip and nodded, then stood, spun on my heel, and hauled ass to class. When I looked back, just before turning the corner, she was gone.
By lunch I had realized I hated school without Lyn and Ephraim. It was bad enough I had no friends, now I had guys thinking they could hit on me. They didn’t think I would wait for Ephraim, or he would wait for me. Little did they know, we lived together now and our relationship was stronger than ever. I could have told them that he had proposed to me over the summer, but then I would have to tell them why I said no. I didn’t want to tell anyone my business. I got my lunch and scanned the lunch room for a table. I hoped to spot Lyn’s boyfriend, Miles. I had heard a rumor he was homeschooling this year because of what had happened to Lyn. When I didn’t see him, I chalked it up as truth. And then realized, I had nowhere to sit.
I was a loner and it felt awful. I took my tray to a cluster of empty seats by the entrance, no man’s land, and ate my lunch slowly. I surveyed the room and noticed the Mayhew boys at their table. John Mayhew had graduated so now Derrick was the big shot. He caught my eye and winked at me. I shuddered at the thought of him even liking me. While his pimply face had morphed into a much clearer complexion, he was still nasty to me. He should know better, especially since his family had hidden a killer in our town. The thought of what they did for Evangeline made me sick. I tossed my lunch in the trash and ran out of the room. As I opened the door I ran into a girl. Her bag went flying, hitting me in the head, she lost her footing and began to fall backwards. I somehow caught her before she smacked into the floor. Once I righted myself, I realized it was the new girl, Sophie. I rubbed my head and handed her back her bag.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I can be so clumsy. So sorry.”
I detected an accent that I thought might be French, but I wasn’t sure.
“It’s my fault. I’m Brylee by the way,” I said awkwardly.
“Yes, I am Sophie Parsons. New girl extraordinaire.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. For some reason, what she said struck me as being extremely funny. I liked funny people and realized I was missing odd humor in my life. “Sophie, where are you from?”
“Paris. This is my first time at American school. So far, I do not like it.”
I laughed again. Her English needed a little help, but, all in all, she would fit in just fine.
“Why are you here, in New Jersey that is?”
“My father is head curator at Philadelphia Art Museum. My mother sent me here. We do not get along,” she replied as she smiled and I noted a hint of sadness behind it. Who wouldn’t be sad, moving from Paris, France to Wilson, New Jersey? It was like a horrid dream, one I had experienced for myself. Although, California was not Paris. Paris had the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. All Cali had to offer was the coastline and Disneyland.
“Sorry about your mom, and because you have to live here. I know what it’s like being the new girl. That was me last year,” I told her. “But, in time, you will fit in and hopefully come to like it here.”
With that, I pulled my bag over my shoulder and walked out the cafeteria doors. To my surprise, she followed me out.
“Brylee,” she asked, “Can I sit with you and eat lunch tomorrow?” She pulled her thick black hair behind her and put it up in a fast bun.
I finally noticed how beautiful she was. The Mayhew boys would be all over her. “Of course. I would like that,” I told her. “And a word of advice, stay away from the boys in the back of the room. They are trouble with a capital T.” She nodded and I walked to my art class, hoping to find some solace. I reached the room and found Mr. Coombs deep in a heated argument on the phone. I sighed and pulled the door closed. He shook his head while motioning at me as if to say, “No! Wait!” I opened the door again as he hung up the phone and waved me in.
“I’m glad you’re here, Brylee. Happy first day of school, blah blah blah,” he said dryly. I laughed anyway. My art teacher was an odd character, but without him, Ephraim wouldn’t have gotten into the photography program at the local college so, I put up with his strange behavior.
“Glad to be back,” I lied.
“So, how are you doing since … since Lynley passed?”
No one really knew what to say to me or how to ask these questions. I felt they were unnecessary because from the look on my face, you knew how I was, which was not good. I just shrugged.
I didn’t feel like saying the one line that everyone wanted and needed to hear, ‘I’m fine.’
He nodded and handed me a file. “I was thinking that the best thing to keep your mind off of her death is to stay busy and look toward the future.” I took the file and opened it up.
Inside was all my art work from the previous year. I gave him a puzzled look. I had no idea what this meant. “Um, okay. What’s all this?” I asked.
“This is you last year. The Brylee that was happy and focused and in love.” He paused. “This year I want different. I want passion and sorrow. I don’t want to see it on your face, like I do now. I want it to come from you, to pour onto the pages and I want it to stay there. Forever.” He stood and came closer.
“At the end of the year I want you to put it all back into this folder and bury it away. Somewhere you never have to see it again, okay?”
I put the folder down and nodded heavily. Tears escaped my eyes and he passed me a tissue. I took it and wiped them gently. I wasn’t going to cry today, but thinking about leaving my grief on a piece of paper and ‘getting over’ Lyn’s death made me unbelievably sad.
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try,” I murmured.
The end of the day was absolute heaven and I practically ran to the parking lot. I found Lynley sitting in my car, singing along with the radio on full blast. I laughed as I got in and turned it down. I could only imagine what the people passing my car thought of the whole thing. A car sitting empty with the music blaring was a bit odd.
I waited until we left the lot before asking her how she had turned it on. “I can do all sorts of things with power. I can turn on the T.V. and lights. I can control electromagnetic things I suppose.” I chuckled at her explanation. I knew ghosts were made of energy and she must be able to control the energy around her now. She sat back and watched the cars pass by. She still seemed a bit melancholy. I hated to ask why, but it was my job as a frien
d.
“Is it hard to be on the outside looking in?”
She smiled and nodded. “You hit the nail on the head though,” she admitted. “It’s like watching life go on without you. No one cares that you’re not there. That’s okay, but I want to be there, too.”
I grabbed her hand and was thankful that it was solid. She wasn’t a mist to me like Violet Brown was. She was solid, like Kayla and Ethan had been. I didn’t want to face the day when she became like smoke to me and I couldn’t touch her or hug her. I really didn’t want her to stay here that long either. That was another topic we had to discuss. But, Ephraim and I decided to wait a while before that particular conversation. For now, I just drove us home.
Ephraim was home before me, of course. His college classes were a lot shorter and let out sooner than my high school classes, which wasn’t fair. I found him sitting on his bed, listening to his iPod, with his head crammed in a book, about photography no doubt. He didn’t even notice me at first. Lyn went upstairs to my room to play with the radio. I was thankful for the alone time with Ephraim. Lately it had been hard to find time for us with my parents always around. We only had a short time before they got home.
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