Whispered Screams

By Angelique LaFontaine

A collection of 10 tales of drama, suspense, and terror. Allow yourself to indulge in the range of writings that are full of mystery and intrigue. Included in this collection are:

"The Highway Travelers"
"The Letter"
"The Urals"
"Maybe I Didn't Hear It"
"The Small Wooden Room"
"Man and Wife"
"The Letter Inside"
"The Pentagram"
"Fire in the Horizon"
"The Visitor"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angelique LaFontaine
• Release date: Jul 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463504208

Angelique LaFontaine

My name is Angelique LaFontaine. I was born in Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin and live in the country about an hour outside of Dallas, TX. I am employed as a Mechanical Engineer but spend much of my time painting and writing I have been building my work collection for the last 15 years and it includes paintings, sketches, poetry compilations, novels, digital short stories and much more. I do not limit my writing to one specific genre but I tend to lean more toward fiction fantasy. I love the idea of not having boundaries when writing. If you can think it, in my story, it could happen. In 2008, I released my first poetry compilation. This collection was entitled Walking Before You Run. It is a collection of 75 poems that I've written over the years. In 2010 I released Sandstone and Mirrors: The Crossover. I have many more books and short stories that I am preparing to release. Besides writing, I love to paint and sketch. I enjoy working with acrylic mainly but from time to time, work with other mediums. Currently my work is being displayed in the Little Elm Library in Little Elm TX. It has been rotated throughout different locations in the Dallas area. Please see my website at www.AngeliqueArtWork.com for any updates.

Book preview

Whispered Screams

A 10 Story Compilation

by

Angelique LaFontaine

Copyright 2019 Angelique LaFontaine

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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The Dearly Departed

Maybe I didn’t Hear It

The Urals

The Visitor

Man and Wife

The Highway Travelers

The Letter

The Small Wooden Room

Fire In the Horizon

Inside the Pentagram

The Dearly Departed

The air was crisp and cool as Lori slipped on her sweater to go outside for a morning walk. It was late September in and Lori lived in a residential area of Chicago. She was 28 years old and single. Lori had moved into the neighborhood about 9 months prior. It was a quiet community that was primarily made up of Chicago Brownstone homes. They were called brownstones because of the style structure. The residences celebrated this old Victorian style which was commonly seen in the 1890-1930 time period. Many of these buildings of course are still standing. However, even though they were referred to as Brownstone they were actually grey in color. Being readily available in that part of the Midwest, Indian limestone is primarily what was used for the more prevalent dwellings.

Lori fell in love with the building the first time that she saw it. She had graduated from the University of Chicago 3 years prior. She had graduated with a law degree and immediately began working in a local law office in down town Chicago. The pay wasn’t substantial but Lori continued to live the frugal life of a college student and was able to quickly save up to purchase what at the time, was her dream house. She had always admired how magnificent those residences appeared and while she was in school would frequently tell herself that one day, she would be the proud owner of one of those pieces of Chicago history.

As she briskly walked down the sidewalk that morning, she smiled in satisfaction knowing that she did exactly what it was that she had set out to do. She glanced back over her shoulder admiring her own majestic dwelling.

It towered over the streets attempting to touch the heavens with all of its 3 stories of glory. The grey stone that made up the structure was sound and without crack or blemish. The windows were a beautiful ornate stained glass cornucopia of colors creating optical prisms on the exterior window sills. The grand stairwell that led up to the front door of her home was a view to really be admired though. The French doors were a honey color of solid oak and framed the doors. The glass was all stained glass; Lori was sure the glass was Tiffany and Co. The age of the home and the primary companies available at that time to actually provide stained glass is what led her to that conclusion but since she could never prove it, she kept that piece of information to herself. The doors were beautiful but simple in design. They led into a foyer that separated Lori from her guests and her quiet little kingdom.

There were not a lot of rooms inside the home but the rooms that it did have were huge. Everything was solid oak. The floors perfectly sanded and polished to the point that you could wear nylons and slide across the floors on your feet and never get a snag.

Every room was designed with an oak chair rail of paneling. The walls were painted in deep hues like burgundies and forest greens. In Lori’s opinion, colors of class and prestige. All of the walls has beautiful, oak crown molding that could never in this life time be duplicated. Each piece was cut with such intricate, ornate precision. It was clear that whoever designed this home did so with a great deal of pride, artistic knowledge and care.

On the first level of the home was a parlor (or sitting room), a beautiful dining room and the kitchen. Inside the kitchen was a small eating nook and that was usually where Lori ate. Her dining room, although fully furnished was really just for show. Her furnishings on the first level were very decadent and ornate. She really wanted to fit the time period of the Victorian Era and chose carefully and took her time. Many of her choices embodied pieces that celebrated patterns that were oriental in flavor. The fabrics she chose were lush and heavy. When she had completed what she considered to be a perfect work of art, she often would just silently stand in her home on the first level and admire the recreation that she felt her home had once embodied.

The second level was accessed via a large staircase that was very wide. The steps were a dark oak with a lush red carpet that lay neatly across each stair.

The second level is where the master bedroom and second bedroom were located. When you reached the top of the stairs, directly to your left was the master bedroom, directly in front of the stairwell was the community bathroom and then directly to the right was the guest bedroom. The master bedroom had its own bathroom. Both bedrooms are large and spacious; it took some searching but Lori was able to find 2 beautiful bedroom sets to go into the bedrooms. One set was a deep, lush, cherry oak set and the other was deep, dark mahogany. Both sets had been refurbished and were original turn of the century bedroom pieces. That was one to the things Lori loved about living in the Midwest, people really held onto things and tended to lean less toward contemporary styles.

The third level, which was originally the attic, Lori had converted to her personal whatever room. She kept her work out equipment up there, had her television up there and all of her little hobbies like painting, knitting, puzzles up there. She spent a lot of time in the attic. It allowed her to sprawl everything out but still kept it out of sight of visitors. She tended to get frequent house visits from clients. In her opinion, it kept her relationship on a personal level. Since she worked for a criminal defense office, she felt that people are more honest when they are comfortable and sucking the truth out of someone in a ‘hoity toity’ office building in downtown Chicago was just not the atmosphere that screamed comfort and relaxation.

The door to the attic was an old fashion drop door from the ceiling that kept the foldable access ladder nice and neatly tucked away. What Lori did though was remove the door all together and replaced the foldable access ladder with a handmade staircase that bolted up to the ceiling and was secured to the floor. It had small banisters on either side and was made from oak that had a very deep stain finish to it. Long before Lori had moved into the house, the attic had been fully insulated and so there was no need to keep the attic door shut.

On this particular morning, Lori wanted to get her morning walk out of the way and do nothing more than to just relax at home. It was a Saturday, she had no appointments and this time of year in Chicago was a true fall time time of year. The sun would be bright but the air would be cool. Sweaters would be a must during the day but even still, the windows of the homes were left open to get that cool, clean fall air to blow through it.

She started down the side walk and cruised at a semi-brisk speed. Some of the houses already had their fall time decorations out. Pumpkins and little scarecrows made from hay and flannel lined the streets. Cornucopias were placed in people’s window sills and harvest wreaths hung from the doors. You could smell chimney smoke in the air from the wood being burned in people’s fireplaces the night before. It was wonderful. What a cozy time of year Lori thought to herself as she crossed the street from her block onto the next one.

Once in a while, especially as of recent, Lori would get a little bit sad. She knew that she had intentionally put off dating while she finished up her college and then focused on her new career. She knew that the age bracket she would now be shopping from was much different than the one she would’ve been dipping from when she was a freshman or sophomore in college. She told herself that it was because she was insistent on being educated, employed and self-sufficient. But Lori also knew that a person could lie to the rest of the world, but a person cannot lie to their own heart. Lori knew that the real reason was nothing more than she was scared. She was scared of getting hurt.

Lori had crossed another 4 or 5 blocks as she thought this and other things. Her thoughts would lead into other thoughts which would lead into other thoughts and before Lori knew it, she was completely oblivious to anything around her.

What brought her back was the odd early morning activity she saw as she turned the corner. There was a crowd of people all lined up in a single file line entering into a house. It was on the same side of the street as Lori was walking and so as she approached the crowd, she somehow managed to get funneled into the house along with the crowd. She felt someone guiding her in with their hand on her back. She turned to tell them that she wasn’t part of this party but everyone was crammed together like sardines. She just went with the flow and figured that once the line dissipates, she could discreetly just let herself out.

As the people filtered into the house, they scattered in all directions into other rooms. Lori was curious so she just sort of wandered in and out of rooms. She had a fluttery feeling in her stomach that she could only describe as the kind she used to get when she was a child with great anticipation.

Lori walked around the rooms and noticed all of the little interesting things that adorned the walls, shelves and tables. Old paintings that she, not being an art expert, would have pegged as being very old and appearing to be valuable. There were photographs hanging that had been enlarged and blown up but seemed very gaudy and out of place sharing the same