Hi, thanks for reading my story. Due to publication this story is now a sample size only. If you would like a digital copy you can find one at Amazon, Smashwords, iBooks, Kobo and Barnes and Noble
Copyright © 2012 by Sandra Corton
ISBN: 978-0-9943930-8-1
All rights reserved.
Published by Sandra Corton
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any forms or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Marianne Nowicki
Prologue
The house stood alone on the desolate hillside. Its ancient windows watched with foreboding as the years passed. No one entered the rickety old gates, except the elderly couple that abided within.
It was believed in the local village that to walk within the house was to march into the arms of death. Many brave souls had ventured within but none had returned. Gobbled up by the forest some said, attacked by hideous creatures, others believed, but no one in the village knew.
Only one knew the truth. The answer lay behind a simple item hidden deep within the mysteries of the house. When uncovered by the right person, all the secrets would be revealed, everything stolen would be returned and all wrongs made right. And so the waiting continued.
Many miles away, a young girl sat looking out the window of a classroom, her face full of misery. She was a determined young person who was average at everything, including her height. Her brown hair fluffed into every spot but where she wanted, and her brown eyes were so boring. She was ordinary and fairly plain as well and it was the bane of her existence.
If only she could excel at just one thing she could prove to her Dad that she was more than ordinary and perhaps avoid the nasty scene she knew was going to occur. She doodled on the paper in front of her as she watched butterflies flit through the trees. School holidays were here and she couldn't even get excited about it.
Dinner, normally a cheerful affair, was silent that night. Charlie's Dad watched her anxiously while her brother Jim studied yet another physics text. The tension built until she could bear it no longer.
"I'm not going." She blurted into the silence while glaring at her father.
"Charlotte please, I have worked to do and Jim has major exams to study for."
"No! And it's Charlie! " She stated defiantly, "I am old enough now that I can be trusted."
"We have been through this before, and frankly I don't want to hear your excuses. You may be 15 but you are still going to your Grandparents." He held up his hand to stop her argument, "For the whole summer."
"Please don't send me. You don't know how awful it is." Charlie begged
"I think I do, Spooky house, creepy grandparents, scary things that happen. You tell me these stories every year. I'm sorry but you are going."
"They aren't even your parents." She argued, determined to win her Dad over.
"Maybe not. They are still your grandparents and they are entitled to see you. Plus I'm sure your mother will be happier in knowing that someone is visiting them."
"Yeah, like she visits us." Charlie pointed out sarcastically
"I know she has been acting strange but she does love you."
"Even though, she left us." She finished bluntly
"Stop changing the subject. You are going, whether you like it or not. They asked especially to see you. So I would suggest you get packing because the train is leaving tomorrow morning at 9.15."
Charlie's jaw dropped in shock as she realized she couldn't argue her way out. It had already been decided. Tears threatened as she slammed her utensils onto her plate, stood up and ran to her room. She was doomed to spend her holidays in Dundoon. The table was silent after she left and Jim finally looked up, surprised to find his father looking so upset.
The next morning Charlie stood defiantly at her front door with suitcases surrounding her. She had so hoped to avoid going this year. But like previous summers, she would be forced to stay in that eerie house with her bossy Grandma and grumpy Granddad. And every year she dreaded it just the same. She sighed gloomily, quietly accepting her doom.
"C'mon honey, it's not that bad." Her Father soothed as they watched her brother carefully back the car out of the garage.
"That's because you have never stayed there!" She hissed boldly. She grabbed her luggage and threw it into the back and before she could protest anymore they were off to the train station.
Charlie grumbled the whole way as the train trundled its way out of the city. She passed through luxurious forests, tiny country towns and massive stretches of pastureland, but still her mood deteriorated.
"We are now approaching Dundoon. Any passengers wishing to alight must do so from the rear car." The guard's cheerful voice interrupted Charlie from her morbid thoughts. She had arrived. Dread crept through her as she gathered up her bags and got off the train.
She had avoided looking at it as the train drew closer, but now her eyes were drawn to it. The house towered eerily above the small town, clinging desperately onto a cliff face. A perpetual darkness seemed to surround it, that wasn't just the forest. It oozed evil, engulfing Charlie, calling to her, pulling her in. She stood on the platform, long after the train had departed, grasping desperately for courage.
Finally as the sun began to sink beneath the cliff, Charlie began to move through the town toward the threatening cliff. The gate was closed tight but she pushed past it without realizing, her eye as usual caught on the words moulded into the metal: "Beware who enter that your heart be real, your reasoning modest and your soul pure." She thought about it as she made her way through the murky forest, bordering the house, toward the pinprick of light that beckoned to her, and concluded that the statement was nonsense.
She reached for the doorbell at last, scarcely a breath left, with her arms screaming for help. Her Grandmother greeted her curtly at the door, her grey, wrinkly face set in its perpetual gloomy expression, before disappearing into the darkness inside.
Not surprisingly, the old house smelt stale and musty, appeared dull and dusty. Nothing had changed. Charlie's heart sank and she sighed to herself as she trundled up the rickety old stairs to her room, she was doomed never to leave this everlasting horror.
The first week crept by sluggishly and Charlie endured every minute with gritted teeth. She rang her father every day begging to come home but he refused to listen. She barely saw her gloomy grandparents and she wasn't sleeping well due to the creaks and groans of the house. To escape she went to the village but even that couldn't dispel her misery. She felt trapped and isolated with the stares and whispers she got from the townspeople only making things worse.
It was during the following week that she discovered how bad things could really get. After a horrid night's sleep, she dragged herself into the kitchen. Rubbing her eyes wearily, she didn't notice her Grandmother standing by the kitchen door.
"The attic needs cleaning." Her Grandmother said abruptly, startling Charlie, who accidentally spilt milk on the bench. "See that it gets done!" She ordered in her rough voice as she marched from the room.
Desperate for conversation with anyone Charlie tried to follow her, but found she was talking to an empty room. Then, alarm bells rang through Charlie's mind and her body began to shake uncontrollably as her Grandmothers words sank in. The attic was the one place she had avoided since an unfortunate incident had terrified her when she was ten.
"Grandma!" Charlie called out anxiously. "Please give me anything but that." She pleaded to the empty room. Her Grandmother had vanished and Charlie knew from previous experience that she could search every room in the house and still not find her.
Unable to stomach her breakfast, Charlie forced herself up to the third floor where the attic entrance was. Bare brown boards steadily rotting away led her to the dingy staircase that lengthened into darkness.
"C'mon you can do this." She muttered to herself as she grasped the rickety stair rail. Taking a deep breath, she forced her trembling feet to move. Her terror increased with every step, but she forced herself onwards until only the scarred attic door barred her way.
Cautiously and with great trepidation she turned the squeaky door handle, and then quickly thrust it open. She had her eyes squeezed shut, but no horrifying sounds could be heard so she slowly opened them and looked around.
The room smelt stale, but resembled her attic at home. She felt her fear ease as the familiar surroundings soothed her. It must have been her imagination when she was younger, she thought. All she could remember was a mirror, a beautiful golden-framed mirror reflecting some grotesque creature that kept repeating her name in its hideous cackle. She had been so terrified that her Grandparents had sent her home early.
She scanned the room but was unable to see a mirror hidden in the clutter. Relief rushed through her as she picked her way across the room. Odd gadgets and weird boxes that contained all manner of fascinating things were scattered around the room. Charlie felt excitement rush through her as she settled down for some serious exploring.
By lunchtime, Charlie was dust covered and so engrossed in what she was doing that she missed the chill voice whispering her name. As she sat reading some old scrapbooks, she became aware of a noise within the subdued attic. She listened but was unable to make it out. Curiosity won out over caution and she tiptoed around the room, tracing what seemed to be a voice.
"Help me." The voice came shuddering from the floor beneath her. She stepped back and realized she had been treading on something large and rectangular. She dug her fingers under it, desperate to help whoever was trapped. She lifted with all her might, thinking there had to be a hidden trap door below.
"I'm coming." She called out breathlessly as the plea was issued again. She heaved the object away with a grunt and proceeded to search the dirty floor for the trapdoor.
"Help me." The voice called loudly.
Charlie turned in the direction she had heard the voice and froze in fear. The object she had moved now stood upright against some boxes, it was the mirror that had terrorized her years ago. It reflected nothing, showing only a grey silvery sheen. Unable to pull her eyes away, she watched as a handsome young man now materialized in the mirror. His image cleared as he pleaded again and she noticed that he seemed to be in some sort of prison, in a dim enclosed room.
All her fears fled as her heart went out to him. There was something so familiar about him that she felt drawn to. She reached out her hand to touch his image. The mirror contracted into a swirling mass of silvery sparks and her hand melted into it up to her wrist. In a panic she struggled to wrench her hand back. The mirror stretched its silvery pieces to keep hold of her then she was jerked into its sparkling depths, with her scream cut off as she disappeared.