The sun is setting over the hills and fields in the hills of Derbyshire, the beautiful green lush fields only broken by the old-fashioned stone walls. Trekking through the fields are Leon Marwood and his girlfriend Joy Barnaby. The smell of the countryside fills their nostrils, from the smell of pollen from plants to the grass under their feet. There are a lot of better things they wish they could be doing, it's the summer break from university for them both. They have been dating for a year, starting at the end of their first year in university. They met under strange circumstances, Jo transferred from Glasgow university, wanting to move closer to her ill mother; who sadly died only a few months after her moving home. It was a sad time, but she had Leon to support her if truth be told without Leon she may not have made it through it all.
Now though it's not one of their happy moments, both of them didn't want to go on this trip, but they had little choice.
"Damn it, Jo, we need to get a move on, it's going to be dark soon and I would hate to be walking through these fields in the dark." Leon moans.
Jo struggles to carry her bag down the hill. Standing at 1.50 metres and weighing a little over 50 kilos, her body is lean from years of dancing and gymnastics. She has never been hiking and now she is walking down a hill in the near dark carrying a heavy bag. Her legs ache not used to carrying the weight of what she needs for her stay in the house they are searching for.
"Well if you didn't make that stupid bet with your friend we wouldn't be in this mess." Jo moans back between breaths, finding it hard to say a few words, let alone a sentence.
The bet that Jo is referring to is one which Leon was presented with only a few nights ago. A friend from university caught him off guard when he was drunk, stating he could beat Leon at Poker. Leon is one of the best players in the university, winning two charity tournaments but his friend baited him in. Waiting until the perfect moment when Leon was drunk enough to be beatable and he made his move. Leon and Jo lost quickly, resulting in them losing the bet they were set up to lose.
So now as they agreed they have to find this house, Broadwick house, an old manor in the middle of the peak district, abandoned after some grizzly murders which Leon and Jo don't know about. All they were told was they had to spend three days, three little days in the house and then that was it. That or they had to give Dean, their friend £2000 each, which they don't have.
"I was drunk, very drunk. That asshole set us up, us both up I just don't know why. You have to remember babe, you lost too." As soon as he finishes saying that he knows he will regret it. Jo is a calm and collective person most of the time, but when she loses it, she loses it.
"Well if you want to get any from me again you will forget that." Jo jokes, surprising Leon as it's rare she jokes at all. "Plus, it could be fun I guess, I mean it's our first getaway."
"Yeah, I guess it is, shame it's in a rathole like we are going to."
Leon almost trips on a cow pat, making Jo laugh. After the hard year, Jo has had coupled with the university it makes Leon feel good that she can laugh. It's hard for him to remember back to when he has seen her so happy. She found the death of her mother hard, almost dropping out of university, but she didn't. Leon was able to talk her into staying, even talking to her lectures to get her extension on her papers. He would have done them himself for her, but he studies maths and with her doing biology he knew he wouldn't be able to do the work. He is smart, really smart, but Jo is much smarter and more capable than he is at academic work. Jo though worked through it and is happy she did. Walking through the fields with no sign of anyone else, other than Leon just brings her back to the reality of how hard her year has been.
Suddenly, almost out of nowhere an old house comes into view, much bigger than either of the couple expected. The house is two stories tall, made out of blocks of local limestone, the yellow colour almost perfectly preserved from the effects of pollution and acid rain. The windows are all perfect and in place, none of the old panes are broken, but the wooden frames they hang in are slowly rotten away.
The whole property is broken off by the typical stone walls which litter the countryside. From their[tbj1] point on the slope of the hill, Jo and Leon can make out that was once the yard is overgrown with grass at least three feet high. The old coach driveway is long overgrown, running down to an old farm track almost a quarter of a mile from the house.
"Is that the house?" Jo asks, pointing towards the house before doubling over out of breath, forced to take a drink from her water bottle.
Leon pauses, dropping his bag on the slope and pulls out the map that Dean provided them with. In a typical ordinance survey map of the area, the house is circled in black ink. with the map, Dean also gave them a photo of the house, which to Leon's relief matches the house in front of him. What annoys him though is that he spots the road off in the distance, and he has been walking with Jo for almost an hour when he could have driven up to the house.
"That bastard made us walk for miles and there's a damn road right there, can you believe that?" Leon complains.
"Yeah I spotted it a bit ago, the guy is an asshole, I don't know why you hang around with him."
Leon sighs and folds the map up and pushes it back in his pocket, knowing he will need it to find his car again when they leave.
"I don't, he's a friend of a friend. I don't know how that guy has friends, but he's a bit of a dick."
"Ha just a little, the guy is the biggest asshole I have ever met. Needs his ass-kicking."
"Don't tempt me, come on we don't have much time, we need to get in the house."
Picking his bag up Leon throws it over his shoulder and grabs Jo's hand and leads the way to break in the wall where he guesses a gate once stood so the owners could access their land next to the house. Out of the corner of his eye, something catches his attention, one of the spirits has seen him and knew he was coming. Leon though doesn't catch it quick enough and fails to catch a good look at it, but he will soon.
Walking into the yard Leon pauses and stares at the grass, something is off, and he can't place his hand on it. Then it hits him the grass, the grass is flat like someone has walked through there, and not that long ago.
"what is it?" Jo asks, her eyes darting in the low light to catch what her boyfriend is staring at.
"look there." Leon says, pointing to the flattened grass before he continues. "the grass is flattened, and there like someone has walked through her in the past few days. And if you look over there you can see that a car has recently driven up to here."
Jo studies the grass and can't deny that Leon is right. There is a clear path from an area which looks like a car was parked recently, leading right up to the front door. Damn it, Dean, what have you got waiting for us? Leon thinks to himself, not wanting to worry Jo, not if he doesn't have to.
Leading the way Leon follows the path through the long grass, forced to walk slower as the wet grass squashes under his feet. Now closer to the house he can see that the stone walls look dirty and the windows are covered in years of dirt, built up so much that they are tinted black. He thought he would be able to spot they were dirty from a distance, but he didn't. A closer look at the window frames and he can see that they are rotten almost fully away from the stones. The wood is almost completely stripped of the paint, which he guesses was once white. There are chunks of wood which have splinted off, and the one closest to him on the right has lost almost all the wood from the bottom. Leon is surprised that the glass is still held in place, but he makes the quick assumption because the other three sides are still relatively whole.
The front door looks old but still solid. Like the window, it's made from wood but was once painted bright blue, but that was a long time ago. Now it's mainly swelled from years of being exposed to the harsh rainfalls of eastern England. The whole house has seen better days, but unknown to Leon it's been standing empty for over 100 years.
Reaching out Leon grabs the brass door handle, expecting the door to be locked. He came prepared though, with a heavy-duty crowbar he borrowed off another friend. However, he has no need to use it, turning the brass handle Leon smiles as the door pushes open with little force, the heavy hinges creaking under the force of been used. dirt falls from them as the door swings open.
"well wasn't expecting that." Leon mumbles, more to himself than to Jo.
"Me either babe, but hey you don't have to strain your poor little body with that crowbar. I know how much you wanted to look all macho for me, but sorry maybe next time." Jo says, mocking Leon.
Leon turns and pretends to sulk before he bursts out laughing followed by Jo.
"come on let's find somewhere to layout our crappy beds."
From the side pocket of his bag, Leon pulls out his torch, clicking the button and the light almost blinding in the ever-growing darkness. Leon shines the light in the crack of the door, the beam of light reflecting off millions of tiny particles of dust and dirt, built up the years of abandonment. The house has seen its fair share of visitors, from teenagers wanting a place to party, to ghost hunters. But none for years, as far as Leon and Jo know. Leon pushes on the door harder and almost chocks on the smell of stale air which is seeping out the building, the smell of mould and dampness, not the smell you want to come across.
Cautiously Leon enters the house, followed closely by Jo, who gently closes the door behind them. Shining their torches Leon and Jo get a good look at their home for the next few days. The floor is tiled in small red tiles, most of them whole but a few of them are cracked. They don't look very red now though, the colour hidden by layers of thick dirt. The walls are half covered in wooden panels, all the way around the hallway. the top parts of the walls were once painted, though black mould now covers most of the walls. The plaster is even missing or hanging off the walls in places, pilled on the floor like wax off a burning candle. With a closer look at the walls, evidence of dampness can be seen, but with it being summer and little rain they are not as wet as they would be in winter. To the left, about ten feet from the front door is a set of massive double doors, with matching doors to the right. Straight in front of them are wide wooden stairs, wide enough for two people to walk up at the same time. Under the stairs is a single door, not like the other ones but made from the same wood. On some of the walls, going up the stairs are some old picture frames, the paintings which were once them long been destroyed by years of decay. Only one piece of furniture sits in the grand hall, an old table which sits near the stairs, an old oak table covered in dust, with a single drawer underneath.
Jo starts to take a step into the hall, but Leon quickly puts his arm out to stop her, confusing his girlfriend.
"What the hell Lee!" Jo grunts, calling him by his nickname which she knows drives him crazy.
Leon ignores his girlfriend's outburst and takes hold of her free hand lightly in his. A simple move to calm her down from blowing her top. Jo always gets a little cranky with lack of sleep, and the long walk to the house, after struggling to sleep the night before too. Now, now she has to sleep in an old mouldy house, with no heating and just a sleeping bag and a camping bed to sleep on.
"take a look at the floor, doesn't something seem strange to you?" Leon asks, his torch scanning the dirty floor.
Jo takes a closer look at the ground and still can't see what Leon is talking about. She's smart, but she knows that Leon has a tendency to notice things which most people miss.
Shrugging her shoulders Leon takes the hint and explains. "there are footprints in the dirt, all over. You can see where someone has walked from the door to the table, then to that door under the stairs, then I would guess they loop round because they come out the double doors to our right and up the stairs. My guess is that Dean has been here before us. I mean the door was open and now this. I mean come on isn't it a little strange?"
Shining her torch around the hall Jo takes a closer look, she can see the footprints, but unlike Leon, she can't tell where they lead to.
"so, what are you worried about? I mean it can't be that bad can it?"
"Erm it could mean a lot with Dean, I mean he could be in here right now, watching us." With that said Leon walks up to the table and takes a closer look.
Running his finger over the top of the table Leon notices something has disturbed the dust on top, as well as the draw being slightly open. Pulling it open the wood creaks and squeals loudly, sounding loud in the mainly empty hall. Inside is a single white A4 envelope, too clean and white to have been there since the house has been lived in. Leon picks it up, turning it over not surprised to see that it's addressed to him. He was right Dean has been to the house and has planned a whole lot of fun for his 'friends'.
Dear Leon,
I guess my map got you to the house, don't be too mad about the little walk I had you go on. I thought you and Jo would like the time together. Now anyway I guess I should get to the reason I put this bet on. No, wait you can find that out later, but a history of the house you are now stood in.
The house was built in 1634 by the Broadwick family, lord James Broadwick. A lord whose family ran back to times before the Norman invasion. One of the few surviving Saxon noble families, they took pride in that and built the house on the land their ancestors lived in for almost a thousand years. The last owner was Lord Arthur Broadwick and his wife Mary. Together they had three kids, Jane, Laura and their oldest Samuel. They were seen as a happy family, wealthy landowners and perfect employers and supporters of the local community. Lord Arthur even built part of the church back up after it was hit by lightning. Cost him almost half a year's earning from the estate, anyway I am getting off-topic now.
On the night of July 12th 1889, in the middle of a thunderstorm, one of the maids, Rachel Harding ran a mile to the nearest house to tell of a story of murder and madness. She claimed that Lord Arthur, a war hero from the days of the first boar war when he was a young man, was no older than twenty. He took a trench single handily when he was cut off from his own men. He was made captain and received a medal for his troubles too. He came back a changed man, though his wife still married him, I have gone off-topic again.
That night it is said that he suddenly snapped, unable to take the pressure of the torturous memories of the war. so, in the middle of the night he took his old Sabre, His sword from the war off its place hung on the wall in his office and went into his youngest daughter's room first, Jane's who was only two at the time. She was sleeping in her bed when her own father walked over slowly, dragging the sharpen steal along the floor. The groves are still visible today. When he got to her bed it is said he lifted the sword high above his head and in one motion cut her head clean off. Her neck pumped blood out until she lost almost half her body's blood and covered the wall almost to the ceiling.
Next, he moved to the room next door and killed his other daughter Laura, but this time it was more violent. He cut her body over and over again, mangling her tiny ribs until they were broken and sticking out of her chest. He cut her so bad the photos of the scene showed her intestines fell out of the gaping wound, landing on the floor in a bloody pile. The smell in the room was said to be that of butchers, strong enough to make men sick whoever entered. it was guessed at the time that he must have cut her kidney out because it was found on the table which I guess you are standing at still. If you look close enough you will still see the bloodstains on the wood, but I guess you didn't want to know that.
After he massacred his daughter he found his son, only six years old and the heir to the estate with the sword still dripping with blood he pushed open the door and most have woken his son because he was found dead the next day in the middle of the floor. The best way to describe it was that he was standing when he was attacked. Judging by the cut marks the sword was brought down upon the top of his head, cutting down from his forehead to his jaw. The bone does little to stop the sharp steel blade too much for the child's bone. Though the force was enough to pop the right eye right out of the socket. But it was guessed the boy died within a second so that wasn't too bad, was it?
Before he could reach his wife though his butler bumped into him on the landing, the sword used to pierce his chest, before he tumbled down the stairs, waking the lady of the house. Having little time left Lord Arthur ran into the bedroom and pulled out his revolver, shooting his wife three times in the head, the bullets passing straight through and burying themselves in the wall behind her. She off easy it was said, though two of the bullets weren't deadly, and she could have lived through. It was the final bullet which killed her.
The fate of Lord Arthur you may be wondering what happened to him? Well, he was found dead on the floor, his throat slit from one side to the other. His body was turned red from the pool of blood which he was found in. there was a rumour at the time that he bled so much that it dripped through the ceiling and into his office below.
What was hidden at the time however was a little story about the life of Lord Arthur? The year before as you will know was the jack the ripper murders and no one knew who the killer was. Well in the house a scrapbook was found on the murders, as well as some questionable items. It was known that the year before he spent some time in London with his wife, setting up some businesses it was claimed and doing something for the government. I think it was something about helping the poor and looking into workhouses. But some entries in the book suggested that the book belonged to the killer, that Lord Arthur had killed before and that was why he killed his family. But the book went missing though, after the investigation, Arthur had brought too much shame to the family without having that brought up as well.
Now on to the house and why I picked this building for you to stay in, and don't think it's just the story you have just learned, no it's something more. The house is haunted by the spirits of the family, those who got killed there 129 years ago. They walk the halls, play out the deaths and terrorise those who are in the walls. That's why I picked tonight, but don't worry you will catch it all on camera. Hell, you may even be able to get famous because of it, but I wouldn't count on it. So, look out for extra notes around the house, they may just help you survive the night. But remember you have three days to stay, not just tonight. Good luck.
Dean XX
"what the hell, this can't be real can it? He's just shitting with us, isn't he? I'm not doing this, I need to get out of here!" jo shouts in a panic, turning on the spot and grabbing at the door handle. "it won't open, why won't it open!"
Leon drops his bag on the floor and shoves the letter in his light blue jacket pocket and rushes over to the door and tries to open it. The handle will turn but the door won't budge. No matter how hard he pulls at it the old wood just creaks but doesn't move an inch. Thinking on the spot Leon rushes over to his bag and pulls the heavy-ion crowbar out of his bag and shoves the flat end into the gap of the door frame and pushes with all his might. No matter how hard he tries though the door still doesn't move.
"Jo gives me a hand," Leon commands, pulling Jo back from her panic state.
Both of them together push on the crowbar with all their weight, but still, the door won't move. The force they are placing on it should cause the wood to splinter into tiny pieces, but it doesn't.
"Damn it, what about the window?" Jo asks.
Leon kisses Jo on the lips, smiling lovingly at her before he pulls the crowbar out of the crack in the door. With his torch as his only light, Leon rushes through the closest doors to his right, into what was once the office of Lord Arthur. The massive desk is still there, with an old wooden chair behind it, the leather padding was torn and worn with age. On the ceiling, a patch of faded red disturbs the high ceiling, covered in thick black mould, but Leon misses this, only interested in the window.
Placing their torches on the window sill both Jo and Leon take an end of the old window and pull with all their might, but the window won't move. The old glass shakes under the strain, but the frame holds fast. Confused Leon uses his torch to check if the frame is nailed down or has some type of latch holding it shut, but it doesn't. It's just an old-fashioned window, and nothing more. What he doesn't know is that the spirits of the house are trapping them inside. Once you are in the house on the anniversary of the Broadwick house massacre, you don't get out.
In a panic, Leon gently pushes jo back and pulls back the crowbar and with all his might swings at the glass, over and over again but it doesn't break. It doesn't even chip the over a century-old glass, not even a little scratch. Leon swings it one more time before giving up, throwing the crowbar across the room, and landing behind the old desk.
"We are trapped, how can we be trapped?" Jo asks in a panic, dropping to the floor holding her head in her hand and bursting into tears.
Leon drops down to the floor next to his girlfriend and holds her close, doing his best to comfort her. He wants more than anything to stand up and scream. To take the crowbar and just keep swinging, swinging until the glass breaks or the frame splinters to dust. But he knows if he does that then it will make Jo break down worse than she already is. Leon still remembers how bad she reacted to being stuck on a rollercoaster after it broke down with them on it for twenty minutes. It took him two hours after they had their feet back on the ground before she stopped panicking. Though they did get a free weekend in the theme parks hotel and resort, so it wasn't all that bad. The only downside is Jo will never get back on a rollercoaster again. Having been trapped like this though Leon knows that it could be worse. Sure, they may be in a house, but the house is old and doesn't have electricity, not even running water.
We have to make the most of it......." Leon says, his voice trailing off as he spots with his torch that Dean's footprints lead over to the old desk, which looks like it has been drawn on the side facing away from him.
"What is it?" Jo mumbles, wiping her tears away on Leon's Jacket.
"Dean has been in here, over by the desk if I am right." Leon pauses and shines his torch over the floor, so Jo can see, but Jo spots something else, something much worse.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" Jo says in a panic. "the story is true, it's all true."
Jo points at the ceiling and Leon spots it now, he sees the faint red patch of blood, framed by black mould. Leon wants to scream as much as Jo is, but he doesn't. instead, he slowly walks over to the desk with only his torch to guild him and sits down in the chair, the old wood creaking under the weight of his slim frame. Just like the table in the hall, the dirt on the surface has been disturbed, evidence that Dean placed his bag on the table when he sat down in the chair only days ago.
The desk has four draws, two on each side of the leather-covered desktop. One by one Leon opens the draws, the first is empty, and the second is crammed full of old papers, which look like they were left when the house was last lived in; which would be right. the third draw though something a little more modern, a mobile phone connected to a mobile charging bank. Underneath it is a letter which simply reads Play me. Fed up with playing Dean's game, but with little choice Leon clicks on the phone, finding it's not password-protected, a huge relief to Leon, as he has no clue what Dean would even choose as a password. The phone is mainly empty, all but a single video, which looks like it was filmed in the chair Leon is sitting in. But from the looks of it, it must have been shot during the day. Sighing Leon clicks play on the video and watches Dean comes into view, the picture a little shaky at first, as he sets the camera up on the desk.
Now you have found the phone I guess I should tell you about the next part of the history lesson. The room you are sitting in is the old office of Lord Arthur, yes that is his blood you can see above you on the ceiling. If you look close enough you will even see remains of his blood on this very table. Oh, wait you will be sitting there in the dark won't you, it will be nighttime. Well, it's not for me and I am telling you the blood is right here. Anyway, I want to see your face when I tell you this next bit, so set up your camera and I will wait.
Dean hums and pretends to look around the room, happily tapping his fingers on the desk.
"That smug bustard!"
Leon grumbles, rushing over to his bag to grab his video camera and tripod.
Within seconds Leon has his camera set up and pointing at the seat on the table, the perfect height to capture him. Hitting the record Leon once again takes his seat in the old office chair and picks the phone up.
Now you are all cosy and I am assuming you are recording this for me I will continue. I am guessing you have found out you can't get out of the house. Well, that's because the house is haunted, and the spirits Won't let you leave. One night a year is what you could call the special night for the ghosts, it's the night they take revenge. Dating back to 1900 there are stories of the spirits attacking people in the house. The first people were just unlucky, they were a young married couple travelling and were caught in a storm. They saw the house from the road and decided to stay in the house for the night, seen as it was clear it was abandoned. It wasn't until six months later their bodies were found. The caretaker of the house found them, still loyal to Lord Arthur. He found the young lady first, she was in one of the children's bedrooms, but it didn't specify which. Her legs were covered in scratches, but it was her torso which stood out the most. She had her guts ripped out, cut to pieces from what they could tell. Though her Kidney was missing, found to be sat on the table in the hallway, just like Lord Arthur did to his child. The husband was in the master bedroom, his body was more mutated than that of his wife. His left leg was cut off cleanly, assumed to have been one clear cut. His arms had been cut down to the bone, with his right arm hanging off. His face had a deep cut, which cut his cheek off like it was butter, and part of his nose was missing. Assumed to have rotted away, since their bodies were at that point a stinking pile of decay. What was striking the most about him was that his chest was slashed and hacked at until the bones of his rib cage were all broken, sticking out his chest like spare ribs on a plate. I saw the photo, it wasn't pretty.
Now you may be wondering about who did it and where the weapon was, well the answer to that is there wasn't one. No one weapon was found, and no suspect was named, not by the police that is. The caretaker though went on record at blaming the ghost of Lord Arthur, though he had no clue why he would do it. But it didn't matter, no one believed him, and why should they? Believing in ghosts would be crazy wouldn't it? Well maybe not.
The caretaker brought in the best spiritualists of the time, for days they stayed in the house, reporting sightings of the children, of Lord Arthur but never his wife. But they would never talk, never show themselves or explain what went on that terrible night. In the end, they just gave up, locking up the house and making sure it would never be lived in, or destroyed. You see the caretaker inherited the house and land and made sure that it would stay in his family, protected until it rotted away.
Now you may be wondering about the other deaths in the house, well there have been ten more in total, yes ten more. The last one was only ten years ago, but I don't need to go into detail about that. What I will tell you though is that no evidence of ghosts or spirits has ever been recorded on camera or tape, so you could be first. That's the good news, the bad news is you have to live through the night.
In the bottom drawer, you will find two voice recorders which I require you both to carry. Don't turn them off and don't turn your camera off and I will see you when you get back. Oh, you may find some more notes around the house, so just keep your eyes peeled. Peace out.
The video turns off and in a fit of rage, Leon throws the phone against the wall, smashing it to pieces.
"That son of a bitch, how could he do this to us? We are so screwed!"
"Has your phone got any signal, mine is dead? I mean if we can call for help we can get out of her right? I mean this must be a joke." Jo asks in a panic, doing her best to stay calm, but all she can do is walk around the old office biting her fingernails on her hand not holding her torch. A bad habit that Jo has never been able to kick. No matter what she tries it doesn't work, she even tried hypnotherapy once, but it didn't touch it.
"You heard dean, you heard about how many people have died in this house, about the murder. You can't say it's not true, just look at the ceiling that looks like blood. I mean he could be shitting with us, but I'm not sure."
Sighing Leon kicks the chair back, hitting one of the wooden wall panels, surprised to see it come clean off the wall.
"What is that? Jo asks, walking over to the desk and flashing her torch at the hole in the wall.
"I'm not sure, come around here a sec and hold your torch in here," Leon replies, turning his torch off before grabbing his camera off the desk, and removing it from the tripod.
With the camera set to night vision, Leon can see before Jo comes to his side. To his surprise, it's full of piles of old newspapers and photos, dating back to before the death of Lord Arthur and his family. Leon pulls the stack of papers out and places them on the desk, surprised to see the top newspaper dates almost ten years to the day and on the front is the house and a report of the last deaths. Now in more of a panic than ever, Leon quickly flicks through the paper, checking to see if it could be a fake, but it's not, the paper is real.
"No, no, no!" Leon moans out loud, throwing the newspaper to one side to check the next.
Just like before the house is on the front cover, three murders this time, all heavily mutated and disfigured. Again, Leon checks the paper and it's real, more worryingly it's not a reprint, it's a newspaper from the day it was printed. How the hell did Dean get hold of old newspapers? It must be impossible, Leon thinks to himself. Then it hits him, he couldn't have, sure one or two would be possible with eBay, but not a whole pile. Not unless some sicko was selling them as a bulk deal, it must be something else. Plus, the dust on top of the newspapers is thick, like they have been there for years, but if Dean didn't put him there then who did?
The newspapers were of course not hidden there by Dean, he didn't think about looking up what the newspapers said at the time. Instead, he relayed on a local legend website, set up by some ghost hunters who claimed it's the most haunted house in Britain. Dean being Dean knew he had to check it out and while he found nothing he was convinced that it was the perfect place to get his own back on Leon, but what for is the question. That's a question which may be answered later, though the question of who put the papers there was by the caretakers. The family whose job it is to look after the house, a tradition started from the time of the murders. A strange warning to try and expose the truth about the house, and most importantly the truth about the death of the Broadwicks. The truth of that night is only known by the family, the nameless faces who covered up the truth about the family's downfall.
"Erm Leon, what's that?" Jo asks, shining her light at the back of the hidden compartment, revealing an old A4 size book.
Leon watches as Jo bends down and pulls the book out, placing it on the desk and opening it out. Inside the pages are full of writing, all old-fashioned and written in what looks like red ink, but it isn't, its blood; human blood. Jo swallows hard and flicks to the first page and hits play on her recorder before she starts reading out loud. Her voice is light and eerie(spooky) like she's doing a voice-over for a horror film.
August 31st 1888
I wondered down Bucks Row in the early hours of the morning. Just a normal woman, away from being Lady Broadwick and just a normal woman walking down the street. I had to bribe the stable boy to lend me his clothes, so I wouldn't stand out too much. A woman of my stature could not walk down the stinking, retching streets of poor London. A place where the scum and the low lives which people like me ride in carriages to avoid. Women like me don't walk down streets running with human waste which squishes under your foot.
This wasn't the first time I had walked these streets though, that was a while ago when my husband first brought me to London two months ago. Charged with having to clean up the poor people of England. Try and turn them all into ladies and gentlemen and not the scum of the world. Arthur has been Arthur jumped at the chance, explaining to me how much he learned in the army that they are people too, just like you and me; that was his words. But I don't see it that way, I am better than them, it is my birthright to be better than them. People like that, people like this in Whitechapel are the worst of the worst. Men and women, even children with little money to buy food or pay people like my husband for the roof over their heads, yet they drink like it's the end of the world.
So, I concluded that seen as it's my husband's job to clean up the poor it's my job too. What better way to do that than put them to rest, take them off this earth for the sake of the others and what better place to start than with the ladies of the night. Women who lower themselves to sell their bodies to buy brandy and cheap wine. To destroy their bodies and bring low-life children into the world to clog up our workhouses. This was the first night, my first victim.
My husband brought a collection of weapons and knives back from the war, so when he was out 'working' one night I went into the room and stole six knives and threw them in my bag. It wasn't hard to pick my first victim. A loudmouth woman whose name was Mary Ann Nichols, but she liked to be called Polly. I found her stumbling out of the pub in the early hours of the morning, and she wasn't hard to follow.
I waited until she was well enough away from the pub and I saw my chance. I snuck up behind her and wrapped my hand around her mouth and quickly slit her throat, her warm blood splattering out onto my hand, pumping out as she struggled to breathe, so I cut her again. The cut went deeper and this one killed her. But even with her body dead on the floor, I didn't stop, cutting and slicing at her stomach. It was like I lost control and couldn't stop, but I loved it. I loved the feeling of her blood on my fingers, the warm sticky blood like nothing I had felt before. Even the smell of death didn't bother me like I thought it was I loved it.
Now I am a killer, now I have begun the cleansing of England, The true legacy of the Broadwick family.
"Oh, shit Lord Arthur wasn't Jack the ripper, it was his wife, it was Mary. This is big, this huge..." Jo says, rubbing her mouth in shock, but before she has a chance to finish she's cut off by a child's voice.
"That's mummy's book, mummy wouldn't want you playing with her book." The voice says, making both Joe and Leon jump.
Leon aims the camera in the direction of the voice and suddenly his face goes pale. Standing in the doorway is the figure of a young boy, dressed in an old-fashioned white nightgown, which hangs down to his knees. The nightgown isn't really white no more, stained red with the boy's blood. His head was almost split in two, the white bone clear and shiny, bits of his brain attached to part of his skull, hanging by a flap of his skin from his forehead. Just like Dean said the boy's eye is hanging out, his hair dyed red with blood, and his face so bloody the boy's soft features are impossible to make out. Suddenly a noise comes from the floor above them, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor and the boy looks at Leon and Jo and runs out the room, his footsteps light on the tiled floor. Sounding more like the pitter-patter of a baby who has just learned to walk, not that of a boy his age.
"Wait come back!" Jo shout's, running out of the office.
"Jo hold up!" Leon bellows, picking his camera and torch off the desk and chasing after Jo and the boy.
Jo is halfway up the stairs before Leon is out of the office before he freezes in his stride. Through the camera, the house doesn't look like it does with his naked eye. The floors are not dusty, the walls not mouldy and the paintings not slashed and destroyed. The house is lit up with all the grandeur of when the Broadwicks lived there. In a panic Leon searches the hallway with his torch to find the walls and floors just like they were when he first walked in but then looking back at the camera they are perfect. Over and over again he flicks from the camera to his naked eye and still it's the same. The camera picks up the image of the home that night, but only once a year, only tonight. Leon though doesn't know this, but suddenly he's pulled out of his trance by a scream, Jo screaming.
"Jo! Jo! Where are you?" Leon screams, taking the stairs two at a time.
He gets to the top of the stairs and turns left, unable to see that he just ran past Mary. If he was looking at the camera he would have seen the ghost of the dead butler, his chest pierced by the curved sabre. His blood pooled at Mary's feet as it ran down the hilt of the sword and onto her hand. He would have seen the look of evil in Mary's eyes as she stood wide-eyed, watching the life of the butler drain as she smiled. Before she kicked his lifeless body off the sabre and down the stairs, through Leon as he ran up them. Leon though is too occupied to even feel the cold air rush past him as the butler passes through him.
Leon follows the light from Jo's torch, seeing the only light in the house other than from his torch coming from the room on the far right. Leon breaks out into a run, the old wooden floorboards creaking under his heavy footsteps, breaking the silence of the house. Leon bursts through the door and scans the room, empty all but an old wooden bed frame on the far wall. The walls of the room are covered in mould, just like the ones downstairs, but Leon ignores this, searching the room for Jo.
"Jo, you okay?" Leon asks in a panic, finding Jo in the fettle position, her knees pulled up to her chest and her torch on the floor in front of her.
"I... I saw her?" Jo sobs.
"saw who? Mary?"
"No, one of the girls, the young one."
"Jane." Leon whispers. "where did you see her?"
"On the bed," Jo whispers back, grabbing Leon's arm as he turns to get up. "No, please don't go." Jo Pleads, but Leon ignores her, getting up to his feet and swallowing hard.
Scanning the room Leon sees what it looked like that fateful night. The floor has a massive rug, an expensive import which Lord Arthur bought when his time in the army. On top of the rug are two old-fashioned dolls, their porcine faces smiling up at him with their, cold lifeless eyes. Beyond that, though things get worse. A puddle of blood comes into view causing Leon to step back in shock, just as Jo's torch battery dies.
"Oh shit, oh shit my battery is dead," Jo states, trying her hardest not to panic, not to scream like she wants to. More than anything she wants to just run out of the house and forget about the whole night. Forget about the stupid bet they made with Dean, but she knows she can't.
"You got no spare batteries?"
"No, it's a USB rechargeable one remember, and the charging banks are in the bottom of my bag"
"Get your camera out and set it to night vision you be able to see."
Jo smiles and quickly finds her camera, setting it to night vision and relieved she can see again, even if it's just through a camera. But something is different, the room is not the same. "I... I can see, I mean the room It's different. Tell me you can see that!"
Nodding his head Leon wedges his torch in the belt ring on his trousers and holds his hand out to Jo, pulling her to her feet with ease. Holding Jo's hand tightly Leon slowly walks across the room, using his camera to step over the toys which are not really there, and dodge the blood which is long gone, but still stains the wood. Leon though doesn't realise though quite what horror awaits him.
Reaching the bed Leon steps around the pool of blood, not stopping until he is standing at the end of the bed. He checks one more time with his naked eye and sees nothing before he finds the courage to slowly lift his camera. At first, he just sees white bedding on the bed, but really there is nothing. So, he carries on scanning up the bed and grips Jo's hand harder when the white bedding is no longer flat but outlines the body of a human, a small human. Leon feels his heart race and his hand and face become sweaty. he feels nervous, really nervous, he doesn't want to see what could be waiting but knows he has little choice. Leon feels like he's in his own private horror movie, with dead children and lots of blood. Spooky house with enough death to put a graveyard to shame.
Finding his courage Leon scans the camera higher and higher, the white bedding no longer white, but crimson red finally coming to the little stump which was once where the little girl's head was once. Leon closes his eyes as soon as his eyes fall upon the bloody neck, the bone of the girl's neck, her gullet, and her windpipe all visible, a sight which wants to make Leon throw up. Somehow he doesn't though, and he uses his camera to scan the walls, finding them covered in blood.
Before Leon though has a chance to find the little girl's head though he hears a creak coming from near the door, and out of instinct Leon and Jo turn towards the sound, greeted by the sight of Lord Arthur. Leon steps in front of Jo to protect her, backing her up against the mouldy, not wanting her to get hurt if he can help it. Jo peers around her boyfriend's body, his broad body taller than her, an almost perfect human shield.
Just like his children, Lord Arthur is a bloody shell of a mess, trapped in the image of his dying moments. His chest is bloody and his guts almost hanging out and his face is deadly pale, like all the blood in his body has been drained out. Unlike his children, though Lord Arthur isn't dressed for bed, still in his black suit and white shirt, just missing his shoes. Like he was killed as he was getting ready for bed.
"She's coming." Lord Arthur moans. "Run!"
Lord Arthur's warning though is too late, he doesn't even fully fade away before Mary appears, running through him at full speed; sword in hand. Leon has no time to react before Mary cackles and runs the point through Leon's gut, blood hitting spraying out and hitting Jo in the face. Jo lets out a scream and is forced to let go of Leon's hand as his lifeless body slumps to the floor, his blood rushing out, soaking her feet through her pink converse. Jo panics and runs screaming out of the room, rushing down the stairs as fast as she can, tripping on the bottom step and landing hard on the floor. Her camera slides across the floor, the screen facing her.
Winded Jo reaches out and pulls the camera to her, scrambling back in a panic as she is standing into the cold, dead eyes of the butler.
"Psst.....Psst over here." A voice whispers from Jo's left.
Picking her camera up Jo points it towards the voice, surprised to see the face of a young woman, no older than she staring back at her. She's dressed in rougher-looking clothes than the other ghost, but something about her face makes Jo think she can trust her. Jo pulls herself to her feet and the young woman reaches her hand out to the ghost, somehow able to take it in hers.
The young woman pulls her quickly through a room which once served as the living room and into the kitchen. She doesn't pause to think, as she almost pushes Jo inside the pantry, before following her in and peering out the door. Jo tries to talk, but the young woman shushes her and turns back to staring out of the door.
Jo slumps down the wall again, glad she left her bag upstairs, as it makes it easier for her to hide if she needs to hide again. Jo feels tears roll down her face as the realisation that she could die, that the love of her life lays dead upstairs. Ran through by a sword by a woman who has been dead for more than 100 years. A twisted woman who killed her husband, her children and not knowing how many other people. Sure, she's not sure she can believe she really is Jack the Ripper, it's in the realm of possibility that she made it up, but she doesn't know for sure. All she knows is she is sitting in an old pantry with a ghost watching over her. She has no torch, and no way to communicate with people outside the house. All she has is her camera.
Using her camera Jo searches for a way out, but gives up within seconds, there is only one way in and wouldn't there be? She's in a pantry only really used by the kitchen staff, so there was no need to give it more than one door. She's trapped, and she knows it. The small room is empty too, nothing in it but a shelf above her. Maybe there is something useful on it, Jo thinks to herself, before pulling herself to her feet, to only find an envelope in Dean's handwriting. Damn Dean damn him to hell. Leon is dead because of him and soon I will be. Damn him, Jo thinks to herself, grabbing the envelope and ripping it open.
One last thing guys don't trust the maid.
Dean. xxx