The Haunting At Barry's Lodge (Gripping Paranormal Private Investigator Suspense Novel): Unexplained Eerie Story of the Supernatural and A Dark Disturbing Psychological Thriller with a Killer Twist

by Annie Walters

  “Hello?” a cold voice broke into the speaker.

  “Hello, Martha. This is Alfred. I can’t concentrate in the room because of the noise? Is everything all right?”

  There was a pause.

  “What noise?”

  “It’s coming from the roof…can you check it please?”

  There was another uncomfortable pause.

  “Mr. Alfred, the second floor is currently unoccupied.”

  Something heavy fell with a loud thud just above where I was standing.

  “Hear that? What in the—” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Oh—that. What can it be, Mr. Alfred?”

  “What? How would I know that?” I blurted out, my voice rising steadily at her absurdity.

  “Oh…I’m sorry, sir. I mean you’ll find that this is an old lodging, sir. Plenty of noises around. I bet this is plumbing…may be one of the old pipes is throwing up.”

  “Well, it sounds more like someone’s dragging the furniture and keeps letting it fall.”

  “There is no furniture in the upper rooms, sir. All of them are empty--completely deserted, sir.”

  The sound was slowly ebbing away and I pulled the receiver away from my ear to make sure it was completely gone.

  “Yes…I can no longer hear it...urm…in case it comes back I’ll be calling you again, all right?”

  I didn’t hear any answer from the other side but a distinct click telling me that she wasn’t listening anymore.

  Well, she sure as hell ain’t normal! Barry was right, after all.

  I settled myself once again, this time near the arm chair and tried to focus. Remarkably, the fireplace was still warm and I could see some logs that were glowing faintly red.

  It must’ve been hours since the last time I tore my eyes away from the screen. I continued to type at an incessant rate. The shadows slowly began to encroach upon me, getting longer and dingier with each passing minute. The adamant splatter of the rain continued with brief pauses as if gasping for breath.

  The room became colder and quieter.

  I’d just finished outlining the twelfth chapter when I finally paused to appreciate what I’d written. I slowly began to scroll downwards, my eyes scanning the words before me. The screen flickered.

  Once! Twice! Thrice!

  I stared blankly at what had gone wrong. I tried to move the cursor but it wouldn’t move. The whole screen seemed to have frozen. Then, all of a sudden, the text I was typing disappeared before my eyes as new words began to pop up in red:

  “DON’T LET ME CATCH YOU!”

  I stared blankly at the phrase, trying to decipher its meaning when the screen flashed once again and the text reappeared. Frowning, I clicked the virus scanner and it popped open with a message

  “Update to a newer version.”

  That’s weird, I said to myself, wondering if a virus could cause such jittering of the screen.

  I quickly saved the document in case it would happen again. My eyes darted to the clock. It was five in the evening. I looked once again at the Wi-Fi signals in hope but the bars were as empty as ever. Then, sighing heavily, I shut down the laptop, securing the charger in its socket.

  My phone beeped vacantly on the quilt.

  I dashed towards the bed and picked it up. Being cut off from the outside world for more than a day without being able to use the Wi-Fi and the messenger was indeed dispiriting.

  You’ve a new message!

  With a quick dab on the screen lock, I pushed the view tab.

  “Talked to Barry last night, he told me that you’ve already settled into your room. You should’ve arrived a day earlier. What took you so long? Awaiting your call—Frank.”

  But Barry told me that the phone near his counter wasn’t working since the storm, I wondered out loudly, my toes planted firmly on the cold carpet.

  Did he did tell me that Frank called last night?

  No he didn’t! I’m sure of it. He never said anything about my relatives trying to contact me. He only said something about the groceries, my inner voice retorted firmly.

  I grimaced at the empty reception area. The cell phone might’ve picked up signals enough for a message to go through. I threw the phone back on the bed in frustration and began to pace across the room.

  That’s twice Barry had lied to me!

  Why would he do that?

  I turned to the window and mopped the drizzle with the back of my hand. It was still raining but it appeared that the heaviest of the showers was over. The light of the setting sun stole its way through the rustling leaves, falling in patches on the damp earth.

  Thinking for a second, I grabbed my phone and the pack of cigarettes from the bed. Quickly tying the laces of my leather boots, I thrust the door open and stepped out of the room.

  What if the cell phones only worked outside the motel? I thought, walking slowly along the dark corridor. A pungent odor of rust and rotting timber filled my nostrils, and I cleared my throat loudly in an attempt to mitigate the tears flowing from my eyes. The slither of golden light seeping from under the door of some of the rooms helped me find my way. I strained my ears to catch any sound from one of the rooms, but I couldn’t hear anything except the loud echo of my footsteps.

  Lights were on in two rooms on the right and three on the left, just like yesterday.

  Heaving a sigh, I entered the lobby.

  Something thing prickled like nettles along my skin as I walked towards the reception.

  Martha was dozing off on an arm chair, her head resting on a thick book sprawled open on the wooden counter. A crumbling, silver ashtray teemed with it residents; some old and some new stood proudly next to a pack of cigarettes of the same brand. An unfinished plate of sandwiches and a flask of orange juice lay beside her.

  It looked like Barry had missed his lunch, and he still wasn’t back from where he’d gone.

  A golden frame caught my eye and I leaned forward to take a closer look, my palms pressing against the wooden counter. It was a portrait of a middle-aged woman wearing an emerald necklace. She was sitting in front of a mirror. Her one hand was resting on her flimsy neck while with the pudgy finger of her other hand, she was pointing towards a dense shadow, lurking just behind her. Her painted lips were wide open. It was difficult to tell if she was laughing or screaming.

  Something hissed and brushed past my legs, and I almost cursed out loud. I looked down and saw a large, tawny feline, glaring up at me through her big, round amber eyes with a look of disdain on its squashed face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  My insides squirmed as my heart skipped a beat on the sudden enquiry.

  I looked upwards to find the counter vacant. I spun around to find Martha standing behind me. Her greasy and unkempt hair were no longer tied but fell down over her shoulders. A braid looking like a wad of copper wire hung between her orbits.

  I hadn’t heard her move past the counter.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  But she kept staring back. Her face was as white as the spectral moon, and her eyes were blanker than the dead man’s stare. I could see her chest heaving up and down rather heavily. She didn’t blink once. For a while, I thought I saw something shimmer in her right hand before she hid it behind her back.

  Back away, Alfred. Back away now!

  “Sulorac si ereh!” she whispered and my neck prickled.

  She didn’t look like the woman that had brought me breakfast. Yes… she was wearing spectacles and had a crooked nose. This one has a pointed one and a pair of cold, grey eyes!

  Eyes that reminded of tunnels filled with scurrying rats!

  “Excuse me?” I asked obtusely.

  Her silence was claustrophobic, and I drew a step backwards.

  She smiled. An empty, cold smile and a shiver traced my spine.

  “Come…. closer….closer…closer…..closer,” she breathed slowly, pronouncing every word separately. Her eyes began to roll in t
heir sockets as her tongue curled outwards, flicking dangerously like a dancing snake.

  “What are you?” My jaw dropped open in desperation. My left leg hit something solid and circular as I tried to back away. I looked at my feet just in time to see a turquoise yarn, rolling silently towards the darkness of the right corridor.

  She let out a sudden, harsh gasp and my nervous eyes danced back to her.

  For a second, her face became red with the temples bulging like she was going to explode. Then her limbs began to contort and she arched backwards with a nauseating speed. Her bones crackled and ghastly lacerations popped up on her shins, revealing the red, shiny flesh. She was on all fours now. Slowly, her legs began to part and her torso sketched upwards like a cocked spring.

  She had formed a perfect opisthotonus!

  I stared in horror at her bizarre posture, waiting in apprehension.

  Run, Alfred. Run! The voice screamed inside my head, urging me to come back to my senses.

  But my legs were weak, and my mouth began to water as I felt my underarms drench in the icy sweat.

  She isn’t fitting. These aren’t fits. I’ve seen George with febrile seizures when he was small. This is something else. Something…sinister. Not human!

  I sneaked a quick glance on the grandfather’s clock as the pendulum struck half past seven in a desperate wail.

  A warning!

  My heart raced and fear flooded me.

  I’m dreaming. This is not real. This can’t be real. Wake up, Alfred. Wake up, NOW!

  I dared not look away from her.

  All I could see was the back of her head from between her legs, her hair dangling loosely, barely touching the floor. And then her neck swung sharply with a loud rattling noise. She was facing me now. Her whole physiognomy was white, fissured with cracks from where congealed blood was oozing out. Her eyes were pearly white with tortuous veins bulging from underneath the sclera as if they’d burst open. Then slowly, without warning, she began to crawl towards me, her limbs moving in a zig-zag fashion like a giant, ravenous spider about to devour its prey.

  “DON’T LET ME CATCH YOU! DON’T LET ME CATCH YOU!”

  Her blood curdling screeches bore into my skull like a dentist’s whiny drill; penetrating more deeply than through the bleak walls of Barry’s Lodge. My eyes dropped shut like a pair of clasping knives. And I silently braced myself for what was about to follow. My heart throbbed painfully; it was more of an emotional pain as images of Ellen and the kids flashed across my mind like a movie preview, plunging me deep inside the stagnant darkness…

  Chapter 6: Raising Questions

  I woke up with a jolt, eyes wide open. My harsh, shallow breaths plumed in front of me. I could hear the violent beats of my heart, pounding in the ears. I was surrounded by stifling gloom. The fireplace and sconces were quiet without a twinkle of light emanating from them. Sweat trickled down my brow and down my neck, but I didn’t care to rub incase my movement made the bed groan. I kept staring in the darkness, trying to determine what exactly had woken me up.

  I had a dream. A grueling nightmare. There was a woman named Martha and something wicked had happened to her. She wasn’t human anymore!

  The right side of my head ached, I reached up and pressed my temple. Cursing under my breath, I immediately withdrew my hand as a flare of pain shot through the skull and down my neck. In a brief moment, I’d felt a scab working its way like an arc on the right side of my head.

  Sighing, I strained my ears to hear the storm outside but it appeared as if it was over. I couldn’t hear the raging wind anymore. The night seemed awfully quiet and cold. A loud rattling noise to my left made my already miserable heart flutter more rapidly. I turned my head sharply towards the sound. It had come from the roof. More of a grinding noise.

  It’s nothing but plumbing. That’s what Martha told me before she’d transformed into that…that thing!

  I shook my head and slowly raised my right hand off the bed and began to fumble for my phone underneath the pillow.

  “Shhhh!”

  A loud, harsh whisper rang through the room raising every hair on my body, engulfing me in fear and panic. I immediately held my breath, waiting for it to speak again. My arms felt weak and exhausted; not prepared for flight or fight at all. My adrenals had exhausted themselves already during that intense dream. My back burned and my fingertips felt cold.

  Get a grip…get a grip, I told myself and then gulping down large amount of sour bile down my throat, I tried to gain control over the darkness. The wind began to blow again as a lengthened howl of an animal made its way rather feebly through the window. The rustling of the leaves and the chirping resumed.

  Something told me that whatever it was—had indeed gone.

  My right hand touched something cold and metal. My cell phone. Without any more delay, I swung it forward, like a sword, its light shining from the screen illuminating the dark furniture and the wall paper. I dared not wait to turn on the camera flash. The cellphone moved in an arc and I squinted my eyes to catch any motion among the still shadows. The room looked exactly the way I’d left it; the empty mouth of my luggage stared at me from the center of the carpet, the towel hung silently from the bed post and the burnt logs glowed meekly on the hearth.

  Shuddering slightly, I crept out of the bed and quirked the quilt to look under the bed, nearly expecting something or someone to jump out. I noticed a few crumpled papers and heaps of dust but nothing of the sort that would scare the wits out of me.

  Sighing, I got to my feet and walked with slow and steady steps on the cold carpet, my eyes still looking out for the sign of any mischief-maker. I moved towards the switch. The lights flickered dangerously before becoming static.

  The space before me was desolate.

  I pushed the washroom door ajar with my other hand and peeked inside. The pink curtain fluttered in the breeze as the door swung open. There was no one inside the tub. I tried to look behind the door but at the same time a sharp, excruciating pain seared across my left foot. Clutching my sore foot, I titled my head while trying to keep balance so as to determine the cause of my new misery. Something sharp was sticking out of the center of the sole.

  Holding my breath, I plucked it out.

  And then, my eyes fell on the floor and my mouth dropped open. The mirror above the stone basin had crashed, its myriad dagger-like shards scattered all over the floor like a booby trap.

  I jumped carefully back into the room, making sure to avoid any further injury.

  Utterly confused and bewildered, I ran a hand through my frizzy hair. My right temple still burned but the pain was draining away fast.

  “You need to calm down, Alfred,” I told myself, unable to shake off the lurking feeling that something was terribly wrong with this place.

  May be it was a bad dream, that’s it.

  But what about the whisper and the broken mirror?

  Feeling uneasy, I realized how cold the room was. Shivering, I moved towards the wardrobe. It opened with a loud creak. After moving my clothes to one side, I saw the two large drawers Barry had talked about yesterday. I dragged the first one out. Hundreds of unused envelopes lay sprawled on its base catching dirt. I picked the two neat one’s among the bunch along with the two post cards and placed it on the desk. The second cabinet revealed freshly cut wood.

  After a short while, the whole room was brimming with the smell of timber and the sound of cackling as high yellow flames licked the wood inside the crate. I felt like I’d immersed myself in a soothing, warm tub.

  Thinking for a second, I took the first post card and began to write hastily:

  “Hello Frank. Hope you are doing all right. The reception in this area is very poor so can’t use my cell phone. I’m staying at Barry’s Lodge in the same room you booked for me--”

  I paused, making up my mind whether I should tell Frank about the series of peculiar events that had shaken me to my core but then thinking better of it, I continued:

&nb
sp; “I’m making some good progress on my book. Hoping to finish it in five remaining days. See you soon.”

  Pushing the first post card aside, I grabbed the second one and began scribbling:

  “Hi Ellen. I hope you and the kids are doing fine. I was asked to move to a remote village on an errand by the company. Can’t wait to see you guys. I’ll be back in five days. Give my love to kids.

  P.S: The weather’s brutal and all signals are dead. See you soon.”

  I shoved the postcards neatly inside the envelope and looked at my phone. Six in the morning. Barry should be back now. But—wait—if it was a dream then he wouldn’t even have left to buy the groceries. I started to trot on the carpet, rubbing my chin as I tried to recall the first thing Barry had said. His raspy voice rang in my ears:

  “I’m heading to town for groceries….Martha, my wife will look after your queries while I’m gone….”

  I couldn’t have been sleeping for a whole day. I didn’t remember anything other than that horrible dream. I checked my phone again in case I was mistaken. I’d arrived on seventh of December and today was ninth. So, I was definitely not missing a day. Which leaves—

  “Oh, My God!” I exclaimed loudly, fighting the urge to jump in the air and nearly fell on the arm chair as I rushed towards my laptop. This would have to explain everything, I wondered. My heart thundered as the logo began to load. I had outlined twelve chapters yesterday morning. If I found out that precise document, it would prove that whatever I saw might be real. My heart skipped a beat like a sprinter who staggers due to excessive pace as the memory of Martha’s transformation flashed across my mind.

  “Now, where is that folder?” I hissed under my breath and clicked on the drive D. My eyes paused briefly on the ‘unfinished projects’ folder, and then, without wasting a second, I clicked it. My skin prickled in fear and anticipation as I opened the document. The words appeared and I read slowly:

  “Look what you made me do!”

  The same phrase went on and on for roughly about two hundred pages. I quickly scrolled to the bottom and my heart leapt.

  “Gotcha You Nosy Bastard!”