Ghosts, Ghouls, and Haunted Houses

by Carrie King

  She screamed again, the sound echoing spitefully back at her. Suddenly she felt her hair being pulled and she was wrenched backward, falling heavily onto the floor. The torch spun from her grip and rolled across the tiles, out of her reach.

  Erica sobbed as she tried to push herself up. The terrible whispering grew louder, swirling around her head and boring into her ears. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest. Her hair was grabbed again and her face was roughly turned upwards. The scream died on her lips as she stared into the awful face of her worst nightmare.

  Erica trembled in utter terror as a dun-colored demon’s face pushed itself up close to her own. Its thin lips were pulled back in a snarl, and short horns protruded from its brow. Its eyes were yellow and unblinking as it looked at her and an overpowering stench filled the air, stinging her nostrils.

  As she watched in horror, a black tongue darted from its mouth and was dragged across her own lips. Her skin burned where the demon’s saliva touched her.

  Struggling suddenly, overcome with an intense will to survive, Erica pulled herself back. The demon’s grip tightened on her hair, ripping several large pieces from her scalp. She panted, twisting and turning and trying to pull herself free. With a sudden heave, the demon pushed her roughly backward and stood over her, one scaly foot placed on either side of her body. An evil cackle ripped through the air.

  As Erica squirmed in an attempt to escape, the demon suddenly bent forward and stretched out one long-taloned hand. It pushed one curving claw into her neck and pressed down. She struggled to breathe.

  Slowly, slowly, the demon raked its claw from her windpipe, down over her sternum and between her breasts, the sharp talon cutting open her clothes as it moved down.

  She wanted to scream but all that came out was a whimper.

  Still the demon dragged its claw further down her body, stopping suddenly just over her belly.

  “No …” she pleaded. Her own panting breath filled her ears.

  The demon laughed wickedly again, pleased with its game. Several drops of fetid saliva dripped from its open mouth. It turned its terrible eyes to her face and watched her closely as it ripped open her belly with its claws.

  Erica screamed in agony at the white-hot pain. The blood gushed from her abdomen as she felt the demon’s claws inside her. Seconds later, the demon ripped her baby from her body and triumphantly held it aloft, tiny and perfect. The creature stared at the tiny being for several moments, looking at it almost tenderly. Long strands of gore and blood dripped from its claws. The baby moved for just a few seconds, then lay still.

  Erica felt herself floating above the pain, towards thankful oblivion.

  As she watched, the demon leaned forward and lay her child on her chest. With its gruesome claws, it lifted Erica’s arms and crossed them over the baby. Erica held the tiny fetus in her arms as her eyes rolled back in her head and a wide corridor of light opened in front of her. Suddenly she was no longer afraid, no longer tired or desperate. Soon she would see Nigel again and would be reunited with her two babies. Her daughter and her were going home.

  Silent Screaming

  The Haunting in Briar Park – Book 3

  By

  Carrie King and Caroline Clark

  ©Copyright 2019

  All Rights Reserved

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  Chapter 16

  England, 1980

  Cassie stared at a framed picture above the mantle for a long moment. The painting was a peaceful scene of a monk tending a vegetable garden. It had been the only furnishing in the house in Briar Park when she, her husband David, and their twin daughters Louise and Abigail, moved in three weeks ago. There was something about the picture which intrigued her, something almost familiar.

  She frowned and ran a finger down one side of the dark oak frame. This infernal dust! Despite Cassie’s meticulous daily cleaning of all surfaces, a thick yellow dust somehow managed to settle itself everywhere.

  “Hey, you.” David slipped his arms around her from behind and dropped a kiss on her neck, nibbling the tender skin gently.

  She giggled and squirmed playfully against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head and looked at the picture. “I think it was painted here on the property.”

  Cassie turned around in his arms. “Do you think so? What makes you say that?”

  David reached over and pointed to the line of trees behind the garden plot. “See these trees? I think they are the stand of sycamores behind the garden plot. And here …,” He indicated a point at the bottom of the picture. “That looks like the old pump by the woodpile.”

  Cassie stared at the picture. David was right. It did look like their own back yard, the view she could see when she stood in the back doorway and looked out across the garden. “I wonder how long ago it was painted?” she mused.

  “Mommy!” Louise shrieked and ran into the living room. “Tell Abigail to stop, now!”

  Cassie and David turned around as their six-year-old daughters threw themselves into their arms. Abigail was sobbing. “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Sssssh, sssssh.” Cassie bounced Louise in her arms and looked over at Abigail, who now had her head buried in her father’s neck. “What have you girls been doing?”

  Louise’s little face was set in an expression of martyrdom. “I was just sitting and playing quietly with my dolls when Abigail threw Lillian across the room!” Lillian, with her slightly creepy wide-eyed expression and sparse blonde locks, had been Louise’s favorite doll since she was a toddler. Abigail knew that Lillian was not to be harmed, not ever, not in any circumstances.

  “Why would you do that, Abigail?” David gently brushed the soft, honey-colored hair back from his daughter’s face. Identical in looks to everyone but their parents, the girls were two little peaches with tumbling, curly hair, large blue eyes, and normally sweet temperaments.

  Abigail stared at her father, her cheeks tear-streaked. She rubbed at her face. “I didn’t touch Lillian,” she said defiantly. “I was reading my book. The man threw her across the room.”

  Cassie frowned at David. “Which man, Abby?” she coaxed as a sliver of dread traced down her spine.

  Abigail reached out a small hand and pointed at the picture on the wall behind Cassie’s shoulder. “The man in the picture,” she said. “The bad man.”

  Cassie glanced back at the painting and at the figure of the monk, bent over his toil. He was dressed in long brown robes, his dark hair fell over his face as he worked the soil. She turned back to her daughter. “He isn’t real, darling. He is just a picture, like the people in your books.”

  Abigail set her mouth firmly shut and didn’t say anything.

  Louise stuck a thumb in her mouth and rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. Over the top of her daughter’s head, Cassie mouthed, “It’s nearly bedtime,” at her husband.

  “Well,” David said jovially, “let’s go and find Lillian and she can come and watch you two girls have your bath. And while you’re bathing, Daddy will get your pajamas and slippers and set them down here by the fire, all snuggly and warm and ready for you.”

  Louise looked down at the empty grate. “There is no fire,” she muttered around her thumb.

  “No, not yet, but daddy is going to go and cut some wood and make a fire.” He set Abigail down on the wooden floorboards and tapped her bottom with the palm of his hand. “Go with your sister and get Lillian. Mommy will run your bath.”

  Cassie bent to put Louise down, and the two little girls clasped hands and ran out of the living room and up the stairs together. “That was quick thinking, daddy.” Cassie smiled at her husband. “And lighting the fire is a good idea. It is getting a little chilly.” She pulled her cardigan more firmly around herself.

  “Those girls have their momma’s imagination,” David winked at her. “They don’t get their creative imagination from their father.”

&
nbsp; Cassie laughed and turned to walk from the room. “I’ll go and see to the bath.”

  She walked up the stairs, noticing with a slight frown that more dust had settled on the banisters. She could hear the girls chattering in their bedroom, just along the hallway from her and David’s room.

  The back door slammed suddenly jolting her heart. David had gone to get the wood for the fire and he must have left it open.

  Cassie stepped onto the landing and walked across to the bathroom. The estate agent had told them that the bathroom had been renovated to its original condition, and Cassie loved the big claw-footed bath that dominated the middle of the large room. Black and white tiles covered the floor, and the high window looked out across the spacious grounds of the property. The fine net curtains were stirring in a light breeze, and she reached up to pull the window closed. That done, she picked up the bath plug and put it in place before switching on the taps.

  The taps were difficult to turn. Cassie was perplexed. She’d never found them hard to turn before. She twisted them this way and that. Had David turned them off too tightly last time he’d used the bath, not aware of his own strength? She heard a sudden whispering noise above her head and looked up, her hair swinging in her face. Hadn’t she just shut that window?

  The taps suddenly freed up and moved under her grip, gurgling to life, the water gushing out far too quickly and splashing up into her face. She leapt backwards, wiping the drops from her eyes. As she pulled her hands away, she looked back down into the bathtub and screamed in terror.

  The pristine white tub was rapidly filling with blood.

  Chapter 17

  “I’ve fixed it.” David walked into the living room, wiping his hands on a hand towel. “You’ll be able to have a bath before you go to bed later. It was obviously caused by rust caught up in the pipes which had somehow dislodged itself. This is a very old house. We have to expect a few teething troubles with the plumbing.”

  Cassie looked up from where she sat reading a picture book on the couch to Abigail and Louise, her pajama-clad daughters were snuggled in close beside her.

  “I feel so silly for screaming. I just wasn’t expecting it. And it really did look like blood.”

  David smiled. “Don’t worry. But you did give me a huge fright! I heard your scream all the way from the garden.” He stood with his back to the fire and grinned down at the girls. “And Abby and Lulu were able to have a lovely wash in a bucket in front of the fire instead of a bath. Did you like that, girls?”

  The twins nodded, both of their thumbs firmly fixed in their mouths, and their wide eyes now sleepy and heavy.

  Cassie looked down at her daughters. “Bedtime, girls. Do you want Daddy to give you both a ride up the stairs to bed?”

  The girls bounced up and down on the couch, their earlier tiredness forgotten for a moment. “Yes, yes!”

  David laughed and bent down, allowing both his daughters to wrap their arms around his neck and hang down his back. Louise’s beloved Lillian swung from her hand and bumped against David’s shoulder.

  “Good night, darlings. I’ll come up soon and check on you.” Cassie blew the girls a kiss and the trio left the room in a bundle of laughter and giggles.

  Cassie stood up and walked to the kitchen to pour David and herself a glass of wine. She pulled two glasses down from the cabinet and set them on the bench, noting again the fine layer of dust that covered the surface. She must remember to ask David where it could be coming from.

  She looked up towards the ceiling and smiled as she heard her daughters’ rapid footsteps on the upper floor and caught the faint sound of their laughter. David had better be sure he didn’t excite them too much or they would never sleep.

  She took an opened bottle of wine from the fridge and poured the liquid into the two glasses. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked up, seeing her own reflection, backlit from the light behind her, in the window above the sink. She leaned forward, squinting, trying to make out anything outside in the gathering gloom of the early evening.

  Something hit the window just inches from her face and she jumped backwards with a shriek. The wine bottle fell from her hands and hit the floor, shattering shards of green glass in all directions. The cold wine covered her skippered feet, soaking them through.

  David’s feet pounded on the stairs as he ran from the upper level. “Cassie, what is it?” his voice was raised in concern.

  “I’m sorry. Something hit the window. I’m so jumpy today!” Cassie’s voice was shaking. She looked back towards the window. “I don’t know what it was. It hit the glass right in front of my face. It gave me such a fright that I dropped the wine.”

  David glanced at the window, then back at his wife. He looked down at the broken glass on the floor. “Watch where you put your feet,” he cautioned. “Step back. That’s it. I’ll go outside and see if I can see anything.”

  Cassie padded over to the long cupboard at one side of the room and fetched a broom. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she took the broom and began to sweep up the shards of glass.

  “It was a bird. It’s lying on the grass under the window. It must have flown into the glass by accident. It’s almost dark out there. The silly thing should have already been at roost. I’m surprised it was still flying around.” David looked over at Cassie. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. There. I’ve cleared up the mess. I was just pouring us a glass of wine. Do you want to get us another bottle from the basement? At least the glasses are okay.”

  Cassie put the broom back in the cupboard.

  “Did the girls go to bed okay? I hope my scream didn’t scare them.”

  “The girls are fine. I’ll check on them again before I get the wine, but I’m sure they’ll already be asleep.”

  David left the room and Cassie pulled off her wet slippers. She walked across the floor and grimaced suddenly as a sharp pain pierced her foot. She looked down to see a forgotten shard of glass wedged in the soft skin of her instep. Wincing, she pulled the tiny piece of glass from her flesh and watched as a drop of dark blood seeped out. A sibilant whispering came from behind her. Jerking around she tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. It was the same sound she had heard earlier and something about it tensed her stomach and raised the hair on her arms.

  The whispering faded but was still there, just on the edge of her hearing.

  “Can you hear that?” she asked as David walked back into the room carrying a wine bottle. “That whispering sound? I’ve heard it a few times now.”

  David cocked his head, listening.

  “No, I can’t hear anything.” He placed the bottle on the countertop and looked down. “Oh, you’ve cut yourself. I told you to be careful of the glass. I’ll get you a plaster.”

  Cassie hopped on one foot to balance herself against the bench while David went to get the plaster. She looked at the window above the sink again. It was now completely dark outside and she could see nothing at all other than the reflection of the room and her own face. A shiver shook her body and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A draught must be reaching her from somewhere. Perhaps a door or window was open somewhere in the house.

  “Come on, hop-along. I’ll help you to the couch and you can dress your wound while I get us that glass of wine.”

  David passed her the Band-Aid and put his arm around her for support as he lead her through to the living room and lowered her down onto the couch.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Cassie placed the plaster over her bleeding foot and sat back. She stared up at the picture on the wall above the flames of the fire. It was such a restful scene. She almost felt as though she was being pulled into it. At times, she could swear she could smell the scent of the freshly turned soil, hear the rustle of the sycamore trees, and feel the sun on her skin. Her eyes drooped as a sudden tiredness threatened to overcome her.

  “Here you go.” David passed her a
glass of wine and her eyes snapped open.

  She smiled up at her husband. “Thank you, darling.”

  David stood with his back to the fire and sipped at his wine. “I’m not looking forward to returning to work tomorrow,” he said. “Having the three weeks off to move ourselves in to this house and get ourselves settled has been wonderful.” He looked at her, his expression mellow. “I’m glad we made the decision to come here. I’ve got a good feeling about this house.”

  Chapter 18

  “Louise, Abigail, quickly now, daddy is ready to leave.”

  The two girls looked tired and distracted doing anything but what Cassie needed. Why were they always like this on a school morning?

  “Come on now. Pack your lunchboxes into your schoolbags.”

  She handed over the boxes and the girls put them away. As they turned Louise raked her fingers through her hair.

  “Louise, come here and let me fix your hair; you’ve pulled it undone. Abigail, don’t walk around the kitchen while you’re eating,” she said as a trail of toast crumbs were following Abigail’s path. The kitchen was a riot of early morning chaos.

  Finally, Cassie stood by the door and waved goodbye to her family. She watched until the car turned at the end of the long driveway and disappeared from sight. Sighing, she shut the front door and walked back into the kitchen to clear away the breakfast things.

  As Cassie crossed the tiled floor, her foot hit something soft. Looking down, her forehead creased. Louise’s doll was lying discarded in the middle of the kitchen floor. Louise never treated Lillian so carelessly. Wondering, Cassie stooped down and picked up the doll letting out a gasp of shock. The toy’s head fell backwards abruptly as she lifted it. It was nearly severed from its neck, hanging from just a few plastic threads. Cassie stared at in horror. Why would Louise do such a thing to her favorite doll? And how could a six-year-old find the strength to nearly wrench a doll’s head off, tearing through tough plastic to do so?