The Haunting of RedRise House: Ghosts and Haunted Houses

by Clark, Caroline

  “Yeah, I like the way that works out.” She snorted a giggle and closed her eyes again. “Perfect, if you ask me.”

  Mark laughed and turned back to the road. Fatigue was like a heavy blanket and his eyes just wanted to close. He quickly rubbed a hand through his short brown hair. Though he was no longer enlisted, he never let his hair grow more than a finger. He unwound the window and let a cool breeze travel across his scalp. The fresh draft much more invigorating than the cold air from the blowers. Right now, he needed something to bring back his concentration. At least another twelve miles laid between them and anything that even remotely resembled an A road.

  “Do you think they made the right decision?” Alissa asked.

  “You mean moving out here?”

  “Yeah, it’s a long way from London.”

  Mark thought about it. He missed their friends so he wanted to say no, then he thought about how much they laughed and smiled tonight. “We made the move for your job, what was it... three years ago now?”

  “We moved to a city.”

  “Leeds is a big city but it’s not London and you adapted.”

  Alissa grumbled. “I know, but right out in the country and into that old rundown house?”

  “It looked pretty nice to me. I think they’re happy there and that’s all that counts, right?” It hit him hard that he wanted things to change. That she wanted more from the relationship was no secret and right now he understood. He turned to look at Alissa.

  That pretty smile he loved so much. She was a picture to behold with perfect skin, a heart-shaped face, and the biggest green eyes you ever did see. A splattering of freckles danced across her nose and more tiptoed down her arms.

  Sometimes he tried to count them when she was asleep.

  They had been engaged for a year now, but when he proposed, it had simply been a stop gap for him. He never intended the engagement as a prelude to marriage and he knew that stank.

  She gave everything to him, was always generous and loving. His best friend.

  How could he treat her like that? Right now, he knew he wanted to marry her, but he also knew it was the wrong time to set the date. He had to make it more romantic.

  She deserved that.

  “Keep your eyes on the road,” she gently admonished.

  Nodding, he turned back. The headlights hardly cut through the gloom and he eased up on the accelerator, slowing the car just a touch. The beams of light shone into the ether as they topped a brow and then dropped to the tarmac as they began to descend. The dark and twisted trees lining the road on their right sucked the light from the moon. To their left, the road sloped alarmingly away and more trees dotted the grassland along with the occasional sheep. He hated the fact that sheep were on the road. Where were the fences? Surely farm animals were supposed to be fenced in fields for safety?

  “Penny for them?” she said, bringing him back to the moment and more pleasant thoughts.

  “Why don’t we stay another night? We could come for a walk on the moors, have a nice romantic meal and then just chill a little.”

  Alissa laughed, a silky sound that stroked down his nerves and filled him with love. “When I look out the window all I can hear is ‘stay on the road—keep clear of the moors.’”

  Mark laughed. What other woman would get his favorite film? An old one, for sure, but still the best. “Maybe we could find a pub called the Slaughtered Lamb?”

  Alissa chuckled. “No, that would be too freaky.”

  “Mark!” her voice was high pitched and cut through the joy like a knife through silk. Green eyes were wide and staring, and her mouth dropped open.

  The world slowed as he turned his head back to the road.

  The headlights barely penetrated the soft mist in front of them, but he clearly saw a woman standing there. A white dress fluttered around her thin frame and her face seemed carved in granite. Frozen in an eternal scream.

  Mark yanked on the steering wheel and jerked the car to the left. He tensed, waiting for the crunch as steel hit flesh and broke bones—a sound he knew well—and a memory of war flashed into his mind. Broken flesh. Blood. A world of fear and pain.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, he trusted his reactions were good. The car turned instantly. Only, it shouldn’t have been quick enough. But there was no crunch, just a flutter of white across the windscreen, and then it was gone.

  They left the road and tore across the grass. Like a turbo powered shopping trolley they careered down the hill out of control. Trees loomed out of the black as the headlights went out and so did the power. The car plunged into darkness. The engine had died but nevertheless hurtled down the hill. Mark pulled left and right, avoiding a sheep and then a tree. Everything lurched out of the dark and was on them so soon. His right foot pressed hard on the brakes but nothing happened. He pushed the gear lever into first. The car should have slowed considerably but it didn’t. Before he could do anything else, another tree loomed out of the darkness and engulfed them.

  This time, the crunch was bone wrenching as they ground to a halt. He instinctively reached out to his left to steady Alissa, but it was too late. They both flew forward until they hit their seatbelts.

  Another crunch and breaking glass showered him. The car finally rolled to a stop.

  Mark’s ears rang and his chest hurt. His training kicked in and he assessed the situation and his own injuries. Nothing but cuts and bruises. His neck was jarred and his knees had impacted with the steering column. They ached like hell, but the seat belt had saved him from worse injuries.

  The car seemed stable but how was Alissa? Leaves cut out the moon and he could only make out shapes. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he searched for Alissa and reached for his phone. The seat belt was in the way. He couldn’t reach the clasp. Fighting down panic, he methodically searched for the catch.

  Alissa! The thought was threatening to drive him into a panic but he knew that would not help. Although his chest ached from the seatbelt strain, he managed to cough out, “Babe, are you okay?” So far, he couldn’t hear her moving but that could just be the compression from the bang that had affected his ears. Many a shell blast had given him a permanent ringing in his ears, but now they were almost screaming at him. Why was it so dark? Why had the lights gone out? He didn’t know but there was no time to think about that now. They had to get out of the car.

  At last, he managed to free the seat belt and tipped forward. Reaching for his phone, he pulled it from his pocket and shook it twice. The torch light lit up and he almost let out a wail of grief.

  Alissa was looking at him. Her eyes were glassy. Not the glassy darkness of death. This was the shine of shock, of trauma. He had to act quickly.

  “Hey, baby, how are you?” He spoke gently but as matter of factly as he could.

  Her eyes lashes fluttered. She was awake and aware. That was good. For a moment, the woman on the road came to mind, but he pushed the thought away. They had missed her, but it didn’t matter. Even if he had hit her, there was nothing he could do now. Deal with what you can, that was what his training told him. Don’t go looking for more trouble. Once he had gotten Alissa out of danger, he would search for the woman.

  He checked Alissa for injuries and a groan nearly escaped him as panic threatened to overwhelm.

  She was leaning back against the seat. Her face looked fine, just pale, but that wasn’t what scared him so.

  A tree branch jutted out of her left shoulder. The gnarled and green wood had pierced straight through her light green top, through flesh, blood, and sinew, and into the car seat.

  Think!

  For a moment, he grasped the branch sticking out from her shoulder.

  Alissa let out a groan of anguish and he pulled his hand away.

  Blood was leaking from the wound, but it was just a trickle. If he pulled the branch clear, he would be able to move her from the car but the wound would bleed much more quickly. If she had severed an artery, she would be dead before he could do anyth
ing.

  First aid kit!

  He sprang from the car and battled the branches of an oak tree. They crumbled easily with each strike. The old and weary tree could topple onto the car any second now. Alissa would be crushed. Each groan and creak of the limbs surrounding him forced a bead of sweat onto his forehead.

  He pulled up the coordinates of where they were on his phone then dialed for an ambulance as he moved around to the back of the car.

  Mark popped the boot and immediately spotted the first aid kit strapped against the wheel arch.

  “Emergency services, which service please?”

  “Ambulance,” he said as he carried the first aid kit back inside the car. He went back to the driver’s side as he could see her door was buried deep beneath the branches and he didn’t want to waste time digging her out or risk disturbing the hovering tree.

  With the phone clamped between his neck and shoulder, he opened the kit and crawled back into the car.

  “Help me?” Alissa pleaded and he could see the glint of tears on her cheeks.

  “I’m here, baby, you’ll be out of here any minute.”

  “Ambulance, what’s your emergency?”

  Mark explained as he packed around the wound with gauze.

  “I suggest you leave her where she is and go back to the road to help flag the ambulance down,” the operator told him.

  For a moment, Mark thought about it. But he couldn’t leave her. The tree groaned above him, how long would it hold? Would he get her out before it came crashing down?

  Alissa’s breathing was ragged now. Panicked.

  Hearing her in such pain tore out his heart.

  “I can’t leave her and I have military training. Just get to these coordinates,” he said and then he dropped the phone back into his pocket.

  “You have to get me out of here.” Alissa grabbed hold of his hand.

  Her grip was weak, her fingers cold.

  “I will, baby, but you must be patient.”

  Leaves rustled overhead and a branch fell, bouncing off the top of the car. They were out of time. He needed to get her out of there, but he’d have to pull the branch from her shoulder to do so. The angle was wrong from the driver’s seat. If he did it from here, he would open up her wound even more. If he did that he doubted he’d be able to stop the bleeding in time.

  She’d bleed out in his arms.

  If he could get in through the passenger door, then it would be a cleaner jerk. The branch would come out at the same angle as it had entered her shoulder and he could staunch the flow more easily, and then get her from the car and possibly even tie off the artery.

  “Just hold still a moment,” he said and pulled her fingers from his.

  Panic gave her strength. Despite her small size she clung on so desperately that it was hard to get free.

  “I will only be a moment,” he whispered against her ear then gently kissed her hair. The blonde tresses were no longer silky but wet with blood. Had she hurt her head?

  There was no time to think about it, so he left the car and fought his way to the front and through the branches. A large branch was wedged against the door, and he kicked at it to break it free. The tree above them shuddered and rained down sticks and smaller branches. Something groaned and cracked and still the door was wedged tight. He kicked at the branch with all his might, knowing that it was a choice between time and force. Too much time and the tree might collapse on top of them, too much force and he might hasten that outcome. His foot hit the branch and it slid across the door. The tortured metal screamed but the branch fell away.

  He pulled on her door, but the impact had bent the metal. His breathing was ragged, and the fear inside him fought like a wild horse for freedom but he reined it in. Feeling around the door, he found the dent and then kicked the panel to clear the frame.

  Alissa let out a scream of pain.

  Mark felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut, but he had to keep going. Grasping hold of the door, he pulled with all he had. For a moment nothing happened and his muscles protested at the effort. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he worked to free the door.

  With one last gargantuan effort it sprang open and he hauled it back as far as it would go. Alissa’s eyes were drawn down, her mouth grimacing in pain. That was a good sign. If she could feel, then she hadn’t gone into shock yet and there was hope.

  He fought around the door. He was about to lean into the car when a ripping sound dragged his gaze upward. A thick branch tore free from the trunk and fell down, and down. The massive limb smashed through the windscreen and slammed into Alissa’s face with a dull thunk.

  As warm wet splashed his face, he screamed, certain he’d never be able to stop.

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  Preview: The Haunting of Brynlee House

  25th April 15 82

  The basement of the cage.

  Derbyshire.

  England.

  3:15 am.

  Alden Carter looked down at his shaking hands. The sight of blood curdled his stomach as it dripped onto the floor. For a moment, his resolve failed, he did not recognize the thin, gnarled fingers. Did not recognize the person he had become. How could he do this, how could he treat another human being in this terrible way and yet he knew he must. If he did not, then the consequences for him would be grave. For a second he imagined a young girl with a thin face and a long nose. Her brown hair bounced as she ran in circles and she flashed a smile each time she passed. The memory brought him joy and comfort. Brook was not a pretty girl, but she was his daughter, and he loved her more than he could say. He remembered her joy at the silver cross he gave her. The one that he was given from the Bishop, the one that cost him his soul.

  Rubbing his hands through sparse hair, he almost gagged at the feeling of the crusty blood he found there. How many times had he run those blood-soaked fingers through his lank and greasy hair? Too many to count. It had been a long night, and it was not over yet. This must be done, and it was him who had to do it.

  Suddenly, his throat was dry, and fatigue weighed him down like the black specter of death he had become. A candle flickered and cast a grotesque shadow across the wall. Outside, the trees shook their skeletal fingers against the brick and wood house and he closed his eyes for a moment. Seeing Brook once more he strengthened his resolve. The trees trembled, and the wind seemed to whisper through their leaves, tormenting him, telling him that he was wrong but he would not stop. Could not stop. Taking a breath, he felt stronger now, and with a shaky hand, he picked up an old stein and took a drink of bitter ale. It did not quench his thirst, but it gave him a little courage. He must do this. He must go back down to the cage and finish what he had started, for if he did not Brook would not survive and maybe neither would he?

  The kitchen was sparse and dark and yet he knew he was lucky. The house was made of brick as well as wood. It was three stories’ high and was bigger than he needed. This was a luxury few could afford. As was the plentiful supply of food in the pantry and work every day. The Bishop had been kind to him, and he knew he had much to be grateful for. Yet, what price had he paid? As the wind picked up, the trees got angry and seemed to curse him with their branches. Rattling against the walls and making ghostly shadows through the window. Alden turned from them and up to the wall before him. The sight of it almost stopped his heart and yet he knows he must go back down to the cage. If the Bishop found him up here with his job not done, then he would be in trouble... Brook would be in trouble. A shiver ran down his spine as he approached the secret door. Reaching out a shaky hand he touched the wall. It was cold, hard and yet it gave before him. With a push, the catch released and the door swung inward. Before him was a dark
empty space. A chasm, an evil pit that he must descend into once more.

  Picking up the oil lamp, he approached the stairs and slowly walked down into the dark. The walls were covered in whitewash, and yet they did not seem light. Nothing about this place seemed light. Shadows chased across the ceiling behind him and then raced in front as if eager to reach the hell below. Cobwebs clawed at his face. These did not bother Alden, he did not fear the spider, no, it was the serpent in God’s clothing who terrified him.

  With each step, the temperature dropped. He had never understood why it was so much colder down here. Cellars were always cool, but this one… with each step, he felt as if he was falling into the lake. That he had broken through the ice and was sinking into the water. Panic clenched his stomach as he wondered if he would drown. The air seemed to stagnate in his lungs, and they ached as he tried to pull in a breath. It was just panic, he shook it off, and was back on the stairs. His feet firm on the stone steps he descended deeper and deeper. He shrugged into his thick, coarse jacket. The material would not protect him, of that he was sure, but he pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind and stepped onto the soft soil of the basement floor.

  There was an old wooden table to his right. Quickly, he put the oil lamp on it. Shadows chased across the room. In front of him, his work area was just touched with the light, he knew he must look confident as he approached the woman shackled to the wall. Ursula Kemp was once a beauty. With red hair and deep green eyes. Her smooth ivory skin was traced with freckles, and she had always worn a smile that had the local men bowing to her every need. Seven years ago she had married the blacksmith, and they had a daughter, Rose. Alden felt his eyes pulled to his right… there in the shadows lay a pile of bones. A small pile, the empty eyes of the skull accused him. Though he could not look away from that blackened, burned, mound… the cause of another stain on his soul. Bile rose in his throat, and the air seemed full of smoke. It was just his imagination, he swallowed, choked down a cough and pulled his eyes away. Blinking back tears, he turned and looked up at Ursula. Chained to the wall she should be beaten, broken, and yet there was defiance in her eyes. They were like a cool stream on a hot summer’s day. Something about them defied the position she was in. How could she not be beaten? How could she not confess?