Excavating the Archives: Old Houses Come With Secrets

The house was perfect.  It was exactly what we had spent the last year looking for: a period property in the middle of nowhere.  It needed a little renovating; it was an old house after all.

The house radiated peace and calm, until the building work commenced.  That’s when everything changed.

The contractors disturbed more than the bones that were found buried beneath the house that day.  My dream home became a house of horrors.  Even after the bones were gone something lingered.

A dark, suffocating presence filled the house.  Noises in the dead of night.  Cold spots in an otherwise warm room.  Clocks that stopped for no reason.  Lights that would flick on and off on their own.

Things changed irrevocably one October evening…

I was home alone, waiting for my husband to return after working late.  As I was walking along the first floor landing, I saw through the window car headlights coming up the driveway.  My husband was home.  But as I was about to turn and go down to meet him, something else reflected in the glass caught my eye, and I went deathly cold.

A misty outline of a figure was standing right behind me, and I knew that they were responsible for the all the strange and frightening things that went on in the house.  Who they were, I didn’t know and didn’t care to know.  I didn’t want to know why they did it or why they were still here.  I just wanted to be left alone.

Frozen to the spot, I heard the front door open and my husband call out.  I couldn’t speak, I was so scared.  I thought about the bones that had been discovered, and I got the distinct feeling I was going to die.

But I was wrong.

It wasn’t my body that would be found at the bottom of the stairs, broken and bloody.


This was originally posted in October 2015. You can find the original post here.

A Little Exciting News…

A random, sort of spooky photo…

A few months ago, I entered a Tudor Ghost Story Contest hosted by authors Natalie Grueninger, who runs the wonderful website, On The Tudor Trail, the Talking Tudors podcast and is the author of a number of Tudor history books, and Wendy J Dunn, author of a number of books of Tudor fiction.

Last week the results were announced, and I’m excited to share that I placed joint second!  On Christmas Eve, the winner and the second and third place getters’ stories were published on On The Tudor Trail.  You can read the post announcing the winners by the judge of the competition here, where you will also find links to the first, second and third place stories.  The direct link to my own story, The Thorns of A Tudor Rose, can be found here.

The Thorns of a Tudor Rose is a story of Anne Boleyn being visited by the ghost of Katherine of Aragon during the days leading up to her downfall…only she doesn’t yet know it.  If you do have a read of it, please let me know what you think!

UPDATE: The first, second and third placed stories have also been included in a sample copy of Tudor Life Magazine, the monthly magazine of The Tudor Society!

The Attic Room

Beautiful cover, isn’t it…

I’m so happy to share that one of my short stories has been included in another of Fantasia Divinity’s anthologies, See Through My Eyes. The anthology brings together a collection of ghost stories; my own offering is entitled, The Attic Room. 

Summary (from Goodreads)

A scream slashes through the quiet night, a chill pierces your skin. The shimmering image of a woman forms in the mist, singing a haunting lullaby. She beckons. Will you go? Featuring 25 haunting stories, SEE THROUGH MY EYES is certain to chill you to the bone and make you wonder who is real and who is not. The Living? Or the dead? Join us as the dead seek to claim their revenge upon the living!

The Attic Room

Bryony Thompson is driving to see friends who live in the middle of rural nowhere.  When her car breaks down on the way, she is forced to stop over at The Blacksmith’s Arms, an isolated country pub offering bed and breakfast.  But the ancient inn is not as quaint as it may first appear…


Useful links:

Goodreads | Amazon UK | Amazon US

Excavating the Archives: The Abbey Ruins

The full moon cast an eerie glow over the abbey ruins, lighting up the yellow stone work in shades of pale gold.

Through the empty doorway a shadow moved, indistinct, but with purpose, an unfulfilled mission, centuries old, repeated each night, over and over, on a quest for peace.


Originally posted on this blog June 2014, here:

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2014/06/23/the-abbey-ruins/

Excavating the Archives: The Hanging Tree

tree

Every night at midnight, the hanging tree creaked as if a very large weight attached to a rope had just been dropped from one of its thick, sturdy branches.  Then a shadow would descend.  Legend said anyone touched by it would be found hanging from the tree when the sun rose.


A spooky short read from September 2014, https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2014/09/05/the-hanging-tree/

Old Houses Come With Secrets – A Halloween Short Story

Here’s another offering for Sindy’s Spooky Writing Challenge...cottage

Old Houses Come With Secrets

The house was perfect.  It was exactly what we had spent the last year looking for: a period property in the middle of nowhere.  It needed a little renovating; it was an old house after all.

The house radiated peace and calm, until the building work commenced.  That’s when everything changed.

The contractors disturbed more than the bones that were found buried beneath the house that day.  My dream home became a house of horrors.  Even after the bones were gone something lingered.

A dark, suffocating presence filled the house.  Noises in the dead of night.  Cold spots in an otherwise warm room.  Clocks that stopped for no reason.  Lights that would flick on and off on their own.

Things changed irrevocably one October evening…

I was home alone, waiting for my husband to return after working late.  As I was walking along the first floor landing, I saw through the window car headlights coming up the driveway.  My husband was home.  But as I was about to turn and go down to meet him, something else reflected in the glass caught my eye, and I went deathly cold.

A misty outline of a figure was standing right behind me, and I knew that they were responsible for the all the strange and frightening things that went on in the house.  Who they were, I didn’t know and didn’t care to know.  I didn’t want to know why they did it or why they were still here.  I just wanted to be left alone.

Frozen to the spot, I heard the front door open and my husband call out.  I couldn’t speak, I was so scared.  I thought about the bones that had been discovered, and I got the distinct feeling I was going to die.

But I was wrong.

It wasn’t my body that would be found at the bottom of the stairs, broken and bloody.

And now for a little publishing news…

Keeping with the Halloween theme…A few weeks ago I submitted one of my short stories from last year’s Spooky Writing Challenge (hosted by the amazing Sindy on her blog, here), to the wonderful Free Lit Magazine.

The story, entitled The Cellars (click to read the original version), underwent an edit and was given a new ending (a proper one as opposed to the open-ended cliffhanger I gave it twelve months ago)…And, I am pleased to say, it has been included in Free Lit Magazine’s latest issue, dedicated to the theme of ‘Terror’. Yay! 🙂

If you are after a spooky read, please do check it out and let me know what you think.  It’s free to read, just follow this link:

http://issuu.com/freelitmagazine/docs/v1i6

The Ghost Amongst The Gravestones

Here is a snippet – the opening 100 words or so – of a ghost story I have been working on, inspired by this week’s Monday Inspiration

I hope you enjoy it 🙂


 

segenhoe2

The mist swirled around the headstones like an ethereal snake. I had hoped it would have lifted by this hour, but the sun seemed weak today, lacking the strength to penetrate the fog that had drifted up from the river.

The air was damp. The ground was damp. A cold wetness permeated everything. I turned my collar up, pulling myself further into my coat. How I hated the churchyard!

In my haste, I tripped over a half-buried piece of stonework obscured by the gloom. I righted myself without too much damage to my person, but as I moved to continue on my way, I saw her.  Her sudden appearance caused me to start. 

Dressed in white, her shift, like her hair, clung to her in the dampness. She looked like she had fallen into the river. 

 Who was she?  And where had she come from?