The House

By P.M. Prior

It was meant to be a place of safety. Their home. Her sanctuary.

When Prue Bridgewater first glimpses the abandoned old house, it's love at first sight. Her husband Ray is not so sure.

The property has been neglected for decades, and Ray can't help wondering why. But with Prue on the brink of a nervous breakdown, he'll do whatever it takes to keep her sane, even if it means he has to live there.

Once ensconced in their new home, Prue begins fixing up the place while Ray is away at work. But after a series of disturbing discoveries, she fears she's losing her mind.

She hears things and sees people who couldn't possibly be there, and she can't shake the feeling she's being watched.

As Prue's hold on reality begins to disintegrate, along with her marriage, she struggles to tell truth from delusion. But things go from bad to worse, and soon not just her sanity, but her survival hinges upon the long-buried secrets of THE HOUSE.

This is a novella of approximately 27,287 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: P.M. Prior
• Release date: Jan 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781393076896

Book preview

THE HOUSE

P.M. Prior

A novella of  27,287 words 

Edited by D.P. Prior

Homunculus Editing Services

Copyright © 2016 P.M. Prior. All rights reserved.

The right of P.M. Prior to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All the characters in this book are fictional and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not be, by way of trade or otherwise, lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser.

Also by P.M. PRIOR

THE BASEMENT

After a long day canvassing for witnesses, Special Agent Chapel just wants to spend her Friday evening at home, but her partner insists on one last interview.

It's a decision that turns her world upside down, and she finds herself trapped in a shadow-filled dungeon. If the stench is anything to go by, she isn't the first.

Bleeding from a life-threatening wound, and with only her training to keep her alive, Chapel will have to do the unthinkable if she is to survive The Basement...

This is a quick read, short story of approximately 7,500 words

To all those who made this book possible.

CHAPTER ONE

Prologue

17 NOVEMBER, 2:37 PM

The dirt road sprawled into the distance. Even though it was straight, gravel made it hard for Ray to keep to the posted speed limit. Crops, fallow farmland, and bright orange leaves rose ahead, as rabbits and squirrels scurried out of the way. The tires hugged the grit as the car sped toward a small wooded area.

That's when he first spotted it: a total dump of a house. Weeds and dead shrubs choked the front yard. Parts of the overhang had fallen off, and most of the windows were broken—something was even hanging out of one of them. Dead leaves and muck covered the steps.

It was creepy as hell. The pit of his stomach felt hollow just looking at it.

He pressed down on the gas to pass it before Prue noticed.

Oh, Ray, just look at that abandoned house. It's beautiful. Can we stop?

She patted his arm, practically bubbling with excitement. Ray hadn't seen her that enthusiastic in a long time. His heart sank. Of all the things he'd tried over the past year to snap her out of her depression, this run-down shack had to be what did it.

Sure, he said, slowing down and pulling the car onto the overgrown drive. What are you, a Ghostbuster now?

No, just finding our dream home.

Hey, this is only a drive, remember? Not another house hunting trip.

But look at it, honey. That's exactly what I wanted. If those waste-of-space Realtors hadn’t been so desperate to unload those cookie-cutter rejects in Crimesville or the pretentious McMansions on the west side...

Ray tuned out as he parked and turned off the ignition. He tried not to frown at the smeared and cracked glass of the sun room with a dilapidated entrance.

It's gorgeous. Perfect, she said.

Ray let out a long breath, barely managing to suppress a groan.

Before he could respond, she was out the door.

I wouldn't get your hopes up, he shouted after her. Then to himself, Piece of crap. One little gust and it’ll collapse.

Prue grimaced, then smiled and beckoned. Come on. Let's take a look around.

Ray shook his head and got out of the car. He had to admit, the place was impressive. The deteriorated plaster, flaking paint, and rotted corbels couldn't obscure its original beauty. Too bad it was almost a complete ruin. It must have really been something back in the day.

You know, you can get shot for trespassing in this state, he said.

Prue stuck her tongue out, took his hand, and pulled him after her. Let's see how big it is.

Overhead, a hawk screeched a territorial warning. Its white and brown-speckled chest was a stark contrast against the slate gray skies.

Looks like rain, Ray said.

C'mon. Prue yanked on his sleeve. Are you made of sugar? Afraid you might melt?

Ray let her drag him to the side of the house. Ever since things started going bad for her at the college, she just hadn't been the same. Life ebbed from her every day those assholes ripped her confidence and reputation to shreds. It was like watching her disintegrate from some insidious wasting disease. Those academic douche-bags may as well have poisoned her.

He shook his head. He mustn't think about it that way. It led him down dark paths to his days on the streets, his time in prison—places he didn't want to revisit. That was his past. Prue was his future. She brought out the best in him, showed him what it meant to have a heart. For her sake, he would never go back to the asshole he'd been.

Still, having to sit by and watch her crumble under the pressure of innuendo and false accusations was almost more than he could bear.

But look at her now. Here she was, back to life right before his eyes, as if nothing bad had happened. It was the miracle he'd been praying for. If only he could bottle it, keep her like this forever.

But life wasn't like that. He'd learned the hard way. His past had taught him that much.

They tromped around to the back. A cauldron of black birds flew up, momentarily blotting out the scant light.

A large expanse of land stretched before them, punctuated by dips and swells of earth. It must have been close to ten acres, give or take.

Broken fence rails skirted a long empty field. A rusted tin sign that read THIS CROP was FERTILIZED with AGRICO clung to a decaying post. Squinting, he could just make out an ancient, abandoned tractor in the distance.

It must have been one bitch to plow.

To the side was a ramshackle barn. Behind it were trees, more than he'd ever seen together at once back in the city. Dead and neglected vegetation retreated from the edges of the yard as the forest inexorably reclaimed it. Closer to the house, an ancient Dodge Fore-Point pickup with busted windows sat overgrown by grass and shrubs, a line of rusted-out metal drums keeping it company.

Wouldn't that truck be great to fix up? Prue said, nudging him with her elbow.

I wonder how much of this goes with the house, he said, ignoring the bait. This is a lot of acreage. You have any idea how much work it takes to maintain land like this?

We'd manage. There are the weekends, and we could always hire it out for cattle. You'll see. Prue pulled him around the other side of the house, gaping wide-eyed at the once grand structure.

An enormous oak stood several yards from the side of the house. On the lowest branch, a weather-beaten swing dangled precariously from frayed ropes.

Bet that tree's wreaking havoc with the foundations, Ray said.

Nah, things were built to last back then. Besides, it's far enough away not to worry about. That old confidence was back in her voice. He'd missed it.

And just how would you know that? Ray said, putting his arms around her and drawing her close. Do you have a PhD in home restoration, too?

Her real doctorate in literature was a far cry from DIY, and, from what he'd seen, it didn't make her anywhere near as happy. Still, the money she earned as a professor was nothing to sniff at...

Prue smiled. "Nope. Just in Rehab Addict."

He laughed and kissed her. She surprised him with a flick of tongue. There was something magic here. For the first time in months, she was actually with him rather than walled up somewhere inside herself. Maybe the long drought had finally come to an end.

Blushing, she grinned up at him. And you thought all those hours watching HGTV were a waste of time.

I never said that—

"I'm just teasing