The Book of Doom

By Chris Hewitt

Eleven-year-old Sophia Owen is about to have the craziest Halloween

When Sophia finds a curious book, reading aloud from it brings thunder, lightning, and a hooded monk who wants the book himself.

For help she turns to Zodiac, the famous ghost hunter, but he isn’t as brave as he appears on TV.

Pursued by the mysterious, sandal wearing, Brotherhood of Evil, Sophia and Zodiac race to discover the book’s secrets.

Mrs Lynch, ancient primary school teacher and presumed witch, could hold the answers, and if the three of them can survive Halloween, Windmore may still be standing in the morning.

Chris Hewitt is the creator and writer of a spoof blog, which has featured in the national press and has over one million readers. The Book of Doom is his second children’s novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Hewitt
• Release date: Oct 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370302796

Book preview

The Book of Doom

Chris Hewitt

Chris Hewitt lives in Manchester, England.

He is the creator and writer of a spoof blog, which has featured in the national press and has over one million readers.

The Book of Doom is his second children’s novel.

Also by the author:

Saving Christmas

Copyright 2017 Chris Hewitt

Smashwords Edition

First published 2017

This edition published 2018

Chris Hewitt has asserted his right under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Front cover designed by Chris Hewitt

Copyright 2017 Chris Hewitt

Front cover font Hitchcock Copyright Matt Terich

For everyone who encouraged me to write

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

The summer abandoned the small town of Windmore as if it had urgent business elsewhere.

Autumn took its place, stripped branches of leaves, and lowered the temperature.

In the park, children climbed colourful frames and scurried through sandpits, like monkeys in a zoo. Chatty parents gossiped by wooden benches, helping untangle their children stuck in cargo nets, or stop them eating sand. 

Eleven-year-old Sophia Owen rocked slowly on a swing with her boot heels.

She hid her chin in the upturned collar of her double-breasted jacket. Wild, brown, shoulder length curls refused to stay tucked behind her ears.

Hung upside down from the swing crossbar by his legs, Yogesh grinned at her. He looked like a boxer’s punch bag, wrapped in his thick coat, and fought to keep his glasses on his face.

James paced before them, kicking piles of leaves the groundskeeper raked earlier. They stuck to his tracksuit bottoms and Sophia expected a hedgehog to soar into the air with each foot swing.

Halloween fever swept through the town, and tonight was the Halloween Ball. It was the perfect end to the half-term holidays. After a week of doing anything but homework, everyone dressed as monsters and ghosts to dance, and filled their faces with sweets earned from trick or treating.

So far, Friday moved so slowly, it felt like time was going backwards, despite their efforts to waste as much of the day as they could.

The sun broke through the clouds. Ryecroft Hall cast a large, jagged shadow across the park.

I wouldn’t want to be here tonight, said James, staring at the gothic mansion.

Narrow rectangular windows resembled toaster slots and gave Lord Ryecroft amazing views of his property.

The reclusive homeowner shunned the outside world, but allowed residents use of his grounds.

Dog owners exercised their pets and scooped their poo, the bowling green lay quiet, and hidden under the shade of conker trees, sat the library.

Ryecroft Hall isn’t haunted, said Sophia.

Every child in Windmore thought somewhere looked haunted. Their high school, the woods, the allotments. Anywhere that looked spooky at night. Ryecroft was no exception.

It is, said Yogesh, trying to correct his glasses. 

Sophia worried how long he could hang. Falling from that height would hurt, even on sponge flooring.

James nodded. Every Halloween lurks a headless, hooded monk. He roams these grounds, searching for his head.

Sophia asked. If he's no head. How does his hood stay up?

He scratched his uncombable blonde hair. I don’t know. It might be someone else’s head he’s looking for.

Yogesh unhooked his legs and dropped the right way up. We should get Zodiac to investigate. He’ll know.

Sophia groaned, hiding her face in her hands. He's the world’s worst ghost hunter, she mumbled.

He's the world’s best, James corrected her. 

The TV superstar and supposed paranormal expert had agreed to host the Ball.

No one famous ever visited Windmore, so most residents were in a celeb-crazed frenzy.

Sophia wasn’t. She’d rather watch live knitting than his show. Each episode of Zodiac: Ghost Hunter was the same.

He visited people convinced they had a ghost. After muttering about supernatural presences and evil spirits, he’d wave his hands and shout his catchphrase, ‘rest in peace’ at thin air.

He doesn’t hunt ghosts, she told them.

Yes, he does, said Yogesh. He stopped a ghost haunting a toilet.

It had a broken flush, she told him. It needed a plumber.

What about the man who’d put on weight? asked James. Zodiac said he had haunted running shoes.

His shoes weren’t haunted; he was just lazy.

Yogesh ignored her. My dad served him in the shop this morning. He asked him about his till,

What’s wrong with the till? she asked. Is it giving out haunted money?

It always sticks. Zodiac said the shop had a supernatural presence.

She felt like banging her head against a wall. Is the till just old?

He shook his head. He knows what he’s talking about, Soph.

Her phone buzzed with a text message from her dad:

TEETH

It wasn’t the strangest text from him. They were always one-word and written in capitals. A reminder to collect a parcel from his friend’s shop. She’d forgotten, but text back:

Don’t worry, I’ve not forgotten X

For a one-word text, his reply took a few minutes:

MUM!

The teeth were a set of very expensive vampire teeth, Sophia helped him buy online.

Every year,