by Paul Simpson
Chapter 1
The house Jack built – (1638AD)
The cool summer breeze blew around the hollow beams of wood as slowly the mansion grew from each hammer blow and cutting saw that worked upon it. The little village had never had a building of that size built purely for living in, nor did they complain as it had brought work to them. The owner of the site, although considered eccentric, cruel and very strange, paid well for the building to be completed according to his schedule.
“They say this man, the one who is paying for this to be built, is mad, crazy as a fool!” whispered a builder to his work friend.
“I’ve seen him," whispered the second builder. "Tall and thin and as pale as the moon, as if death has already come for him. I heard that he’s built all around the country on different sites and that the devil himself gave him the money to pay for all this after he was tricked.”
They stared at each other in fear of who they were working for, and a cold chill ran down their spines.
From the window above there came a creaky, old, unsettling voice.
“Indeed the devil did pay for all of this my dear gentlemen, and soon he will come for his payment again, which I fear I will be unable to avoid for much longer. But in building this, I plan to make good my escape from out of his grasp.” There was a chuckle of twisted laughter. The tall spindle of a man encircled the cowering builders, grinning with a sinister glee with his darkened eyes that further frightened them.
“I am told there are witches rumoured to live nearby; do you know of such a truth?” asked Jack.
The two men began to shake with fear as Jack leered at them with a big twisted grin that only served to make them feel even more uneasy. Summoning up the courage to speak, the first builder answered back.
“Yes, it is believed so sir.” The second man nudged him in the ribs as if to quiet him mid sentence but Jack’s attention was already upon his words. “They meet out in the woods and it is thought they are looking to add a fifth to their group who just arrived recently, a newcomer to the village. They say they can sense her powers.”
Jack grinned. “Yes, the newcomer. I saw her arrive the other day from the attic window, she was dropped off by an acquaintance of mine, his presence is an unmistakable feeling. How nice he has time to socialise.”
Jack breathed deeply as he stood up straight and tall, his eyes closed as the sun bathed his face, smiling as the warmth touched his skin as if he was cherishing that short moment, like it would be soon lost to him forever. He bowed his head again back into the building’s shade as he began to laugh. “Their talents might be of use to me. The blood of a true witch spilled in this area will strengthen the land’s power, making the link between this and the other side weak enough to break through again. It looks, my friends, that if I can influence such a destiny then this may well be the place of my return one day,” and he gave an evil little chuckle to himself and began to wander away back into the sunlight to carry on his inspection of the other workmen.
“Good day to you sirs!” he called back, not even bothering to turn. “Don’t you have work to be getting on with? We’ve got a deadline you know.”