Nightmare Ink Presents Issue 2
Welcome to the second issue of Nightmare Ink Presents. Today we bring to you the third chapter of The Haunting of Blackwood Manor.
If you haven’t read the first issue, you can find it here, it has the first two chapters of the story.
And without further ado let’s go on with our story.
The Haunting of Blackwood Manor Chapter III: Racing Thoughts
The second night passed, and Mark and Sarah were sitting on the back porch, each with a cup of coffee in their hands, when Emily got downstairs. She saw them from the kitchen window as she heated some water for her tea, her mother’s head leaning on her father's shoulder like a couple of teenagers who had just spent their first night together and were now watching the sun rise while lying atop a Camaro’s hood. “Why are you thinking of mum and dad like the lyrics to a Pearl Jam song?” she thought, pouring the boiling water into the cup.
As she got out into the porch her mother lifted her head suddenly. Once again Emily was reminded of a teenager caught doing something wrong, but there was also something in the way her mother had moved her head that made her recall something else. Something she couldn’t quite place.
“Morning Em,” her mother said moving so Emily could sit next to them.
“Hey, kiddo! Had a better night?” her father looked at her, inquisitively.
“Yeah, yeah, I had. Slept like a rock.”
“Really? I could have sworn I heard movement down the hall.”
“Nah, wasn’t me. I might have taken some time to fall asleep because of the nap I took in the afternoon, but I didn’t leave my room. Maybe it was Alex? By the way, where is he?”
“The only thing we saw of your brother this morning was his back running down the briar path as we opened the blinds. Guess he decided to go on an early morning run?”
Alex had gotten out of bed as soon as the first rays of sun had peaked through his window. He silently made is way down the stairs and was out the door before any other members of the family were awake.
His mind was racing, even more than Alex himself was, returning to the last night. Once again, he had been awoken in the middle of the night by a creaking noise at the entrance of his room, only this time the noise was moving out of the room, and he could be certain that whoever it was had been inside of it. He lifted his head from the pillow only to catch a glimpse of a nightgown disappearing down the corridor. His sleeping mind tried to rationalize a couple of things. What was in the direction the person had moved to was one of them. Alex tried to visualize the floor plan in his head. He had the room closer to the stairs, to the right was Emily’s and finally their parents’ room, and from there the stairs that went to the last floor of the house and that was yet to be used. Whoever it was that had just left his room had turned right to the stairs. And there was another thing. From what he could remember no one at the house had ever worn a nightgown to sleep, unless he were to count when he and Em were little, and they stayed at her grandmother’s home and his sister wanted to sleep in their granny’s gowns. But that was ancient history even now. Maybe his mother had brought some with her? He couldn’t know, but all these questions kept sleep away from him and were now finding their way back into his mind. So, he did what he knew best how to do. He not only kept on running, he sped up.
Her mother had gone upstairs to change into working clothes, what she called an over-washed t-shirt and ripped jeans, and had left Emily and her father on the porch but not before telling Emily she had to make up for the previous afternoon.
“So kiddo, how is it?” her father asked her after some time in silence.
“What?” she said like she had been caught hiding something.
“The new book. How is it?”
“You really want to know, Dad? I know you don’t appreciate that stuff.”
“Well, I might not like the person, but he’s not a half-bad writer. Maybe a little bit predictable. The ending for “Blood-Soaked Nights? Blegh,” he blew a raspberry in her general direction. “I could see it coming a mile away.”
“Yeah, Dad you could. You are so smart,” she rolled her eyes at her father who in turn feigned to punch her in the arm. “But you know who couldn’t? The thousands of people who made it a NYT bestseller and a box office success,” she gave him a teasingly smile.
“Oh… Don’t make me talk about the movie. Talk about miscast… But don’t change the subject, how was it?”
It was normal for them to talk books and movies, her father had been an editor and a proofreader for a small indie publisher that focused on horror and thrillers, so books were a part of the family. That had been how her parents had met when the head of the publisher had brought her mother to do some cover work for them. From all in the Smith household, Emily was the one who had the closest relation to her father when it came to books.
“It’s good, a little slow at the beginning but I think it’ll start picking up the pace now,” she paused. “I haven’t read that much, to tell the truth.”
“Is something wrong, Em?” his face turned serious. “You know you can talk to me,” another pause, this one shorter. “Is the about the moving here?” he added.
“Nah, Dad. It’s just…” she pondered on how to say it. “It’s just that sometimes it seems like I’m in one of those movies or books. The family moves to a house and things start to happen. You know the ones. Like Amityville,” she swallowed hard. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
Her father looked at her waiting for her to continue.
“Dad,” she looked frightened more because of what her next words might mean than any other thing. “I think there’s something inside the walls.
This is it for this week. Hope you enjoyed it and as always can’t wait to hear what you have to say.
See you next week for chapter IV.
M.
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