Memoirs of a Dream Witch

By Maxine Hayes

This is Book 1 of The Dream Witch series.

Inside you will find nightmare fuel, literally. Nightmares are always much scarier than you think, and the author wants to share her nightly terrors. This book is for any supernatural horror enthusiast looking for a new thrill or just something scary and new to read.
There are three stories for you to read and two small pieces to give you a break to find some coffee or tea before you jump back on in!

Artwork by Meghen Murphy

Warning: mature situations, strong/coarse language, blood, and gore.

Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction; any likeness to real people, other fictional works, and events is purely coincidental.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098362294

Book preview

Isle

It Lives at the End of the Lane

Quiet and Solemn. A twin brother and sister hand in hand. She wanted to play in the house. He did not. He was twenty-five years old and he thought trespassing on private property for his twin sister’s college class was not worth the night in jail.

Oh come on, there’s nothing in there, she said, rolling her eyes at him. She shook the bag that held some candles and a book. You sound like a massive wuss right now.

There’s something in there. I swear I saw something move! the brother replied in defense as he glanced at the house. It lay in disrepair with a ruptured porch and the roof soon to collapse. Orange and yellow trees surrounded the edge of the driveway, a mile back from the road, hidden from view. The thing is fucking deteriorating. It’s probably not even safe to walk in there without falling through the floor!

Quite wide, the old home stood two stories tall. Not a single person was taking care of it, apart from someone mowing the lawn, leaving behind patchy, haphazard clumps of grass. Even the groundskeeper wanted nothing to do with the dying dwelling. The bushes, untrimmed and overgrown, declined in the front near a gray-streaked porch. Old shutters broken on their hinges and paint chipped. The house itself was off-white; the edges chipped away by storms and years past.

Boarded up windows or merely broken. The window where the brother had seen something move was a sickly, cloudy yellow, taupe color. A tree near the left side of the house held what used to be a tire swing, but now only the ominous rope remained. The chimney was still there with broken bricks like missing teeth. It groaned and cried at the force of the wind. Once again, the brother saw what looked like a shadow in the window.

He squinted and saw it was a doll’s face beyond the dusty glass: big blue eyes and even bigger black eyelashes. The porcelain on its face cracked, but gazed onward towards the driveway. The brother’s hand reached up to his stomach, his face twisting in unease as he rubbed his jacket in some sort of comfort. He could taste the bile on his tongue that threatened to upend their mother’s homemade meatloaf.

A strange pull came to his stomach. He felt truly and utterly nauseous, looking at it. It didn’t stop his older sister from leaping up the steps. Her boots shook the porch from her little weight. He kept telling her over and over, it was a bad idea, he didn’t want to, but she kept ignoring him. His gut in knots, he could only stare at his sister as she pranced across the decrepit wooden porch.

His nausea was overwhelming now, and the younger twin felt his stomach turn. Oh come on, her voice was heavy with a groan as she threw her arms down in disgust. Her brother had not even stepped foot onto the lawn. It’s EMPTY!

He heard the splintering wood before she did, and when she wheeled to face the sound. It happened so fast that he couldn’t move into action. Two arms, too long to belong to a human, had reached out and snatched his older sister. The arms yanked her closer to the door, and the brother froze. Screaming, she was screaming his name as her hands scrambled for the door frame, nails clawing and digging grooves into the splintered wood. Finally her fingers slipped, and the female twin was swallowed into the darkness inside the house.

Solemn kept screaming and screaming, a shrill sound that pierced his eardrums. She let out a mangled sob; the brother paralyzed with fear. She shrieked his name, begging and pleading. A sickening crunching sound, and then the screaming stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

The younger twin brother was left standing outside the house, white with fear even long after he was finally able to move, even after he scrambled backward and cried for help.

The brother remained shaken and white for years to come.

Ten years later.

She looks like a warthog.

The slap to the back of his head was sharp and merciless. He was always slapped upside the head whenever he insulted his fellow classmen. Every year he was reprimanded whenever he called Penny a warthog. After all, it was a very well used and beloved insult. He was punished the time he told Amelia that Santa wasn’t real when they were seven years old. And the time he shoved that prick, Johnny called Ameila a dumb bitch three years ago and got suspended from school. And several times before that for every little comment. His sass got him in trouble quite often.

"Adrien Michael Scott," his mother hissed through clenched teeth. He didn’t have to turn around to see the look of unfathomable ‘this is my stupid spawn’ on her face.

Mom, you can’t tell me that underbite doesn’t make her look like-, he dodged the second slap aimed at his mop of orange curls with a grin. The teen slid out of his chair at the table to avoid another oncoming concussion. Ameila’s arm was already outstretched before he reached for it, not looking away from her phone. He almost fell and ate shit on the floor, his sneakers squeaking on the tile. Righting himself, he held his hands up in mock defense as his five foot even mother glowered up at him.

You can’t say that!

And she shouldn’t call Ameila a whore, mom! Not in front of the entire fucking class!

Calling someone else names is not the answer to this, Adrien. You should know that.

He said nothing to that, choosing to ignore it, picking his orange juice, and downing the whole glass. And then Ameila’s orange juice too while she was busy looking at Penny’s photo on InstaXG. His older sister looked up, her orange hair twirling with her head and arm as she tried to punch him in the kidney.

Hey! Adrien, you dick! the sister yelled, tossing her head back to her parents. MOM!

Adrien, get your sister another glass,

Kay, he muttered as he picked up her glass, walking to the fridge and refilling the cup to a few inches before overflowing. Just enough to be annoying. Olive green eyes darted to the container and then his sister. Matching green eyes turned from the little screen of her cellphone to look at his.

If you drink all of that again, I swear I’m going to cut you in your sleep.

His voice became playful and defensive, wiping the grin off his face before looking at his sister, I wasn’t!

Bullshit, I’m your twin. I know what you think because I hear it in my head too! She got to her feet, snatching the glass from his hand with the same side that held her cellphone. His sister pinched his nipple through his shirt and twisted.

Ah! Fuuuu-, Ameila! he snarled between the gargled laugh coming from his throat. The younger twin smacked her freckled hand away and kicked at her knee. She flipped him off with a middle finger, chipped green nail polish standing out. Both twins covered head to toe, but Ameila’s lips had the tan brown spots, whereas Adrien’s didn’t. She stuck her tongue out, the little black ball from her tongue piercing swaying.

Suck it, Adrien.

The memories of the last time he saw Ameila stuck in his head through the grief. They were arguing with smiles in the kitchen, both twins bouncing out the door. They were quick to avoid hounding from their mother for their habit of cursing.

He thought of every nasty thing he’d ever said to her. Every time they’d ever got in trouble, every time they had laughed and cried.

‘Can you turn your weird-ass indie shit down?’

‘Can you not be a cunt?’

He hadn’t looked up from his homework at his desk. Ameila had been oddly quiet, and he hadn’t turned around to look at her either.

‘You know I hate that word…’

Her voice was small and quiet, yet still heard over the music. He turned then, seeing the older sister in the doorway of his room. Amelia was a little dark spot in the light of the hallway. She was wearing the band hoodie he’d bought two years ago and a pair of charcoal leggings. Her orange hair was a little frumpled, strands sticking to her lips. Must have just woken up from a nap, because of his loud indie music. She looked genuinely hurt, so he sighed and waved a hand for her to come in. Ameila looked like she needed his company.

‘Sorry, Mell, c’mon in. Let me finish this last page of my essay. A-And we’ll go to the video store or something and rent that new slasher movie you wanted to see. But I like her music; it helps me finish my papers.’

‘Popcorn and soda too.’

‘Popcorn and soda too,’ he confirmed, even though her sentence hadn’t precisely been a question.

It hurt, his entire chest felt like it was collapsing. His heart, his lungs, drying up with every gut-wrenching sob. The walls of his veins were cracking, his entire being was fire given how hot his face was. He didn’t want to look in the mirror, not only to see tear-stained tracks down his cheeks; it was his sister’s face.

Ameila Iris Scott was declared a missing person over a week ago, and hope of finding her was fizzling out, despite Adrien’s pleading for everyone to keep searching. He insisted that she was alive somewhere and she was terrified. No one believed him. They said she might have skipped town with her girlfriend, Shana, who lived three states away. But Shana had called him, asking why Amelia hadn’t video chatted with her two mornings ago. The other theory was that Amelia was sick with her current life and decided to start over.

Start over somewhere new without her twin? Not a chance.

His sister was close, and he knew it. But no one fucking believed him.

I’m telling you, she’s still HERE! Adrien was seething, addressing his friend who stood in his room. As Adrien’s best friend and partner in literal crime since third grade, Giovanni Ardinand struggled with his friend. But he also wholeheartedly believed him at the same time.

I…I don’t KNOW, Adrien. I wanna believe she’s around, but-but the sheriff can’t FIND anything. Giovanni shook his head, curly black hair bouncing back and forth. It was tightly coiled compared to Adrien’s loose curls. He stared at his friend once more, and then his head shook again. Giovanni shook his head more viciously, his earrings rapidly bouncing back and forth.

Gio, please, Adrien said, coming towards his friend. The taller of the two wrapped his arms around the shorter. Giovanni crushed the ginger to his chest, burying his face in the crook of where Adrien’s neck met his shoulder. Adrien was overwhelmed with the burning heat of his friend’s body. Embracing him back, a choked sob rose from his throat once again. God, please. Gio, she’s my big sister. I KNOW she’s here.

I believe you, shh, I believe you, Giovanni pressed a fierce kiss to his friend’s cheek, then his forehead. He pulled back to cup the freckled cheeks, green eyes red-rimmed, and Adrien’s face swollen from days of tears. "We’ll find her, caro, we will find her. Essere forte," he nodded to him. Adrien nodded back, wiping at his tears with the back of his hands. Strong, be strong, need to find Ameila. Gio sat his friend down on the twins bed, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. He smoothed a hand over Adrien’s fingers and squeezed.

Do you remember anything?

No. Ameila said she was going to go over to Jenn’s with Petunia and Lydia, and that was the last time I heard from her or saw her.

And the sheriff questioned them?

Yeah, they said they went to some abandoned house, explored around. And at some point, Ameila wasn’t with them anymore.

Giovanni wheeled around to face the redhead and spoke with an accusatory tone. What house?

The one like an hour away from here. The old Lamb house at the end of the lane on Rose Street.

Gio frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned his head away from his companion. The teen rubbed his chest over the black long sleeve he wore and wrinkled his nose. Brilliant hazel orbs speckled with liquid gold turned back to green eyes across from him. Adrien avoided that intense gaze by closing his eyes. His eyes burned, and they ached even further when Amelia’s smiling face burned into the darkness of his mind.

The one with all the rumors? About people disappearing?

Whadda’ mean?

You haven’t heard? People go missing around there every few years or so. I hate even being in that general area. It feels cursed. There was a huge problem about ten years ago. A woman went missing, and her brother was involved.

Adrien had been looking at his lap and now looked up and opened his eyes, his jaw clenching shut …Was it a set of twins?

I don’t know, Gio shook his head, a string of Italian words coming from his lips. Adrien stared at him, blinking and wrinkling his nose. Giovanni repeated his sentence a little more aggravated, arching an eyebrow. The words came fast, spilling over his lips with ease.

Gio, you aren’t speaking English, you’re speaking Italian.

The teen’s cheeks colored a lovely shade of rose pink as his shoulders hunched. My mother told me that, he said in English.

Can we get a hold of this guy then? I have to know.

"It’s probably a lot tougher than you think, caro, but I will look into it."

Gio…what if it’s..

Don’t worry. ‘Mellia would never leave you behind. She’s my sister too, y’ know, he said as he reached out. Giovanni was cupping the back of the redhead’s neck with tenderness, looking him in the eye. We will find her. We just have to know where to look. Get some rest, Adrien. I will be back on Thursday, please, give me until Thursday to do my thing.

Amelia was shivering in the corner. Her hoodie was not as warm as she needed it to be. It was dark,