The Wales Boy

By Rachel Michelle Greenebaum Moretti

A sinister and lustful secret hides beneath the walls of the Wales' mansion, a secret that has been concealed for centuries. Angelica Grace, a sixteen-year-old girl from Michigan, is forced to move from her home to the suburbs of Chicago. She loses everything while continuing to suffer from the depression of losing her mother. Her father doesn't

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Jul 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781648950735

Rachel Michelle Greenebaum Moretti

Rachel Michelle Greenebaum-Moretti is from Chicago and loves to read books by the fire, blog, and watch countless Disney movies. At a very young age, Rachel would write numerous short stories and poems. From the moment she could write, she realized that writing would be something that she would pursue as a career. Rachel enjoys writing, acting, and blogging as her pastime. The Wales Boy is her first novel, and she is hopeful that she will continue to write more.

Book preview

Prologue

He lays there on the ground; his blue eyes are half ajar. His mouth is open as if his last words were a mere scream. His body is flat on the brown wooden floor and crimson blood lies in a circle underneath him. His arms are flat against his side and his palms are turned upward. His dark hair is matted where the blood has flown from his head. His face is unmasked and deadly pale. He is dead.

The culprit sits in the corner of the attic, shaking back and forth. His mind is a blur, and he is unsure of what he has just done. The axe soaked in blood rests on the floor next to him. His hands twitch as he whispers slurred words to himself, shocked at what he’s done. A girl’s screech comes from the other side of the room; it is full of agony.

You shouldn’t have disobeyed me, boy, he cries at the body, as if it could respond.

He reiterates the words over and over again in his mind, pulling his dark hair back, breathing hoarsely. He smirks to himself as he takes another look at the body, realizing that he’s pleased at what he has done.

Chapter 1

D ad, how much longer? I’m dying here, Angelica asks.

She turns her head to her father who tries to hide his agitation to her continuous questioning. Both Angelica and her father have been driving for four hours. Her father smiles as he turns into another lane on the expressway.

I’ll never understand teenagers and their over-exaggeration as if you’re truly dying. Angelica rolls her eyes and crosses her arms around her chest.

It’s called a figure of speech, Dad, she mumbles under her breath. Her father chuckles to himself and quickly glances at Angelica.

Take a chill pill. We’ll be at our new home soon.

More like our new prison, Angelica mumbles under her breath as she turns her attention to the window. She notices numerous cars speed past her. Her father always drives slowly on the expressway even though he could go faster; he never went above the speed limit. He is a controlled man now, always following the rules ever since her mother died. It’s bizarre how nothing seemed to excite him any longer. Angelica notices a teal car flash past and she cannot help but place her finger on the glass window, leaving a small imprint that disappears. It brings up memories of her mother’s teal Subaru. She remembers how much her mom loved that car.

Memories of when her father first brought the car comes into her mind. Her mother had been so happy to take her first drive in it. Every day after school, Angelica would find her mother parked in the same spot every day, the windows down and music blasting from the sound system. She can see it now, her tendrils grazing her face, the smile lines spread across her tawny skin, most importantly, that smell of apples and cinnamon that her mom always had.

Angelica pushes the memory from her mind; she wouldn’t cry anymore. Crying is stupid.

Have you talked to your old friends from Michigan?

Angelica sighs and shakes her head. Her friends hadn’t called her since she first broke the news of her move. She expected them to wail in pity as she did; instead, they were indifferent and promised to visit her. Angelica is starting to believe that they will never visit her; they won’t even call her.

Yea, I talk to them every night, she lies.

Sometimes, lying is easier than facing the truth. Angelica’s father looks at his daughter, her head leaning against the car window, lost in another place, perhaps another memory. He shakes his head in disbelief as he sighs to himself.

You’re going to like Chicago, it’ll be a good change for us, you know since the incident.

Angelica clenches her jaw. She doesn’t want to have this conversation.

Bruce, not now, okay?

Bruce is what she calls her father when she doesn’t feel like talking. Like most teenagers, she calls her father this to rebel against him. Bruce isn’t like most parents, so he finds her calling him by his first name oddly hilarious.

I’m serious, kiddo, just give this place a chance.

His hazel eyes trails back toward the road as he turns off the expressway into a small neighborhood. The houses all look the same, little brown boxes with nice gardens. Angelica becomes repulsed by the idea of perfect little house wives sitting outside in their garden drinking lemonade. Her mother was never like that. In fact, she was the complete opposite. Her mother was daring, never staying at home for more than a day. Angelica and her mother would always be outside exploring and learning new things. Her mother would always be her favorite chapter in life; she’d re-read her every day, even when thoughts of her triggered red eyes filled with tears from her memory.

"Dad, please don’t tell me we’re going to be living in this Stepford Wives neighborhood. Didn’t you see the movie?"

Bruce chuckles as he stops perfectly at a stop sign.

Yes, I did see the movie, as you know, I’m a huge fan of Nicole Kidman. She looks very good in black if I say so myself.

Angelica makes a gagging noise, and she pretends to stick her finger down her throat.

What? Bruce says, driving the car once more.

Dad, really? Of all the actresses in the world, why would you pick Nicole Kidman? I mean seriously. Get yourself together, Bruce.

He taps the wheel and turns his head toward Angelica who gives him a side smile while sticking out her tongue teasingly.

Oh, you want to go there huh? Fine, we’ll go there. Who do you consider ‘hot’ as you teenagers would say.

Angelica giggles and runs her hand through her wavy raven-colored hair. It slithers down to her stomach.

Channing Tatum.

Bruce makes a grotesque look on his face as if he’s smelled something foul. The way he scrunches up his face, like putty, causes Angelica to hold back the laugh that wants to burst through her gut.

Oh my god! he mimics a voice that sounds like Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, one of his all-time favorite movies, Angelica could never imagine why he liked it so much. Such a pretty boy. Have I taught you nothing?

Angelica falls back into her chair, throwing her hands up into the air. Even though both of them are close, there is no way she’d discuss tastes with her father, even she wouldn’t cross some social norms.

No offense, Bruce, but you’re acting so creepy right now.

He leans his hand over to Angelica and runs his hand over the top of her hair, making it frizz and cling to his fingers. She pushes it away with agitation and a loud sigh.

Someone hasn’t been using the essence, Herbal Essences that is.

Angelica rolls her eyes as she tries to see her reflection in her phone. The screen is dark, and she can’t fully see herself. She sighs and resumes her awareness back outside toward the window. The houses fly past, and suddenly, they are on a busy street with a gas station and pizza place. Angelica’s mouth waters as she thinks about pizza; she realizes that she hasn’t eaten since they left their old home early this morning.

Dad, I’m famished can we please eat something?

Bruce sighs. There you go with those over-exaggerations. I’ll stop off at a burger joint close to home. Do you think you can wait until then? Or will you pass out from starvation?

Angelica’s eyes become wide; annoyance mixed with hunger is never a good combination, so she has no patience for his snide comments.

Why are you so weird?

I blame my breeding. My mother and father are extremely strange.

Angelica chuckles as she thinks about her grandparents who live in the middle of Indiana on a farm. They never called except on holidays and her birthday. They were afraid that the end of the world would come sooner rather than later so they would have to stay hidden. Their wild imaginations frightened them into hiding because they also believed the aliens would find them.

Are we going to see Grandpa and Grandma? Angelica asks, letting her window up; her dark hair has blown all over her face and sticks to her long thick eyelashes. Bruce nods.

Yeah, they may visit us next week and check out our new crib.

Bruce.

Angelica, he retorts matter-of-factly.

"Don’t ever say crib again."

Chapter 2

Angelica’s mouth waters as the double cheeseburger is placed in front of her. The steam from the melted cheese and thick luscious meat makes her stomach gurgle in anticipation. Her fingers itch to hold the succulent sandwich in her hands, so she immediately dives in for the kill. She takes a big bite, indulging in every bit of its flavor. Bruce stares as he sips his dark coffee.

Slow down there, tiger, it’s not going to get up and walk off your plate.

The waitress, a tall slender woman with a mass of curls, smiles at them.

Would you like more coffee, sir?

Her name tag reads Armani, and her voice is soft and silky. Bruce nods and sets his cup to the side.

Oh yes, that would be lovely, thank you.

Armani pours the thick black liquid into the cup and smiles flirtatiously at Bruce. She bashes her eyelashes, which looks like spider legs on her face. He doesn’t seem to take notice, but Angelica does and rolls her eyes as she looks down at her burger.

If there is anything else I can get you, don’t hesitate to let me know. She sways toward the next table. For a moment, Angelica believes she’s purposefully walking in slow motion.

That was awkward. Angelica emits a sigh as she takes another huge chunk out of her burger. Bruce picks up the cup, and before he can put it up to his mouth, Angelica yells, Wait, Dad, don’t drink it!

Bruce removes the cup from his mouth with a look of surprise on his face. Angelica never wavers as she stares at her dad directly in the eyes.

Why not?

She could’ve spiked it, Dad, remember what you told me? Angelica points her finger at him. Never take a random drink from strangers even if they are attractive.

Bruce rolls his eyes.

Whatever.

Angelica laughs as the burger slowly begins to disappear. She didn’t realize how hungry she was. The front bell rattles as two teenagers crowd into the small diner. Angelica notices them immediately because they’re the only teenagers in the diner besides her. The boy is tall and slim with a mass of dark curls. He wears a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. His face is oval shaped with two beady light brown orbs, halting her attention. His arm is around a short petite blond girl; she smiles as the hostess takes them to their seat. They sit to the right side of Angelica and Bruce. Angelica puts her shoulder onto the table and turns the other way, trying to not be noticed. Bruce examines her odd behavior and chuckles, sipping more of his black coffee.

Feeling antisocial, kiddo?

Angelica pushes her plate to the middle of the table, suddenly losing her appetite. There are some people that are neon signs, bold, vibrant, capturing someone’s attention at mere sight. Then there’s Angelica, who is stuck between who she is and who she hopes to be being swallowed in her own skin. Part of her feels awkward in this metamorphosis phase of life. There are depths to her that even the ocean couldn’t fathom.

Dad, not now, please can we just leave?

Bruce takes out his wallet and sets down a twenty dollar bill. He puts his brown wallet back into his khaki pants pocket. He notices her fidgeting, anxiety taking the best of her, and a part of him feels oddly protective. No matter how old she was, she’d always be his little girl, and he’d protect her from even the most mundane of things.

Yea, let’s go, kiddo.

Bruce dismounts from his seat as he exits the diner, leaving Angelica to slowly follow behind him. She’s inside her head again, thinking about every single move she makes, and slowly gets up to walk toward the door. Before she can leave her booth, she trips over something. She falls to the ground, her long black hair falling over her face. She closes her eyes, praying that this incident didn’t just occur. She can hear laughing coming from some tables and an occasional

Oh my, is that girl all right?

The boy that she had seen before comes over to her side and helps her up. His fingers are warm and soothing as his smooth skin brushes against her own.

Thanks, Angelica mumbles as she pulls her sweater over her bare arms.

He nods, pushing his hand through his dark coiled curls.

You, ugh, tripped over my girlfriend’s purse.

Angelica looks down at the floor. The culprit is the small Michael Kors bag that rests on the side of the girl’s chair.

Oh my god, are you okay? the girl squeals as she gets off of her chair.

Angelica regains her composure and nods about to say something, but she stops as she notices that the girl isn’t talking about her but her purse. She picks the purse up gently, cradling it like a newborn. Angelica’s right eye brow lifts in confusion.

Oh my gosh, you could have broken my purse. Do you know how much this cost me?

Angelica shakes her head in utter bewilderment. The blond girl rolls her eyes and wipes her purse off delicately. Of course, you don’t!

She walks away toward the bathroom mumbling discourteous things about Angelica far too loud so that the world can hear.

Um… Angelica closes her eyes in utter embarrassment. She opens them to find the boy with his hand in his pocket a look of shock written on his face.

Sorry about that, she really loves that purse.

I can see that, look, tell her I’m really sorry. Angelica chews on her bottom lip, trying to soothe her racing heart. She could faint, but she tries to calm herself down as the boy shrugs.

Listen, don’t worry about it, she’ll get over it.

Angelica nods doing a quick smile.

I’m Pete, by the way. He outstretches his hand, and she fully takes them in now, his fingers are lean and bony.

You’re a musician? she says, taking his hand and shaking it. His dark black eyebrow rises in surprise as he laughs.

Yea, how did you—

Your hands. She shrugs. I used to play piano. I can tell by your… she trails off, feeling silly.

Great, you’re such a complete and utter lame ass, she thinks to herself. Another quirk that came to bite her in the butt. Angelica likes to see people past their facade but really look at them beyond their skin, bones, and meshes of hair follicles. She wants to know them, the person behind the mask, for she believes everyone has a story…even her. She wishes people would take the time to listen to hers; maybe then, they’d see her sad eyes and fake smile. They both let go of each other’s grasp. Before anything else is said, Bruce comes back into the diner calling Angelica’s name.

Angelica! Will you hurry up? The car’s been on for ten minutes. He leaves out the front door quicker than how he came in.

Your old man? Pete says with a smirk as he turns back to stare at Angelica who places a dispatched tendril of hair behind her ear.

Yea, listen, I better get going. Pete nods, stepping out of her way.

Hey, maybe I’ll see you around?

I’d like that.

She waves as she walks backward almost bumping into another table. She catches herself, cursing her awkwardness under her breath. Pete seems to find it endearing as he waves back toward her. Finally, she turns around and walks outside to find her father thinking maybe this new place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter 3

Darkness is all around. Angelica is engulfed in a room of desolation and emptiness. She tries to look around to find some kind of way out, feeling around the walls but finds nothing. She screams, but her voice will not come to her; it’s lunged in her throat. Her lungs feel as if they will burst and she begins to panic. Eyes dart from left to right as her breathing becomes haggard and rough. She tries to yell help again, but this time, a piercing pain rips through her chest and she falls to the floor in agony. She’s choking on her breath, and everything seems to be spinning around her. Her body has a mind of its own, no longer listening to her command, for it twists and turns in agony. Traces of sweat drip down her forehead as her heart’s reverberation in her ears gets slower…slower…

A silhouette flashes across her eyes, the body is blurry and looks more like a dark shadow of a person. The shadow stands before her as if it’s looking down at her. She tries to tell it to help her but feels as if this thing is more of a foe. It does nothing and stands perfectly still as everything fades to black.

*   *   *   *   *

Angelica wakes up in the car, realizing that everything is just a dream. She has perspired, and her breathing is rushed. She looks toward her dad who’s staring at the road. The sun has slowly set and the darkness has taken its place. Her nightmares comes in waves, making her fear the night, not because of the darkness, but the fear of never waking to the dawn. In the darkness-brought clouded memories, phantoms of what they once were, and she couldn’t bear it. She looks at the clock, and it reads 7:00 p.m.

Ah, you’re finally awake. You were screaming for about a good five minutes.

She slouches against the car door, her gaze heavy. She is exhausted, the dream literally terrified her.

I had a bad dream, she whispers.

Oh, may I ask what it was about?

I don’t know, I can’t really understand it.

Bruce yawns as he turns the corner to another street full of old mansions. The porch lights are on, and it illuminates each mansion with a vibrant glow.

Finally, he says with a smile as he parks turning off the ignition. We’re here!

Angelica’s gaze follows her father’s to the huge bricked mansion before her. It’s shrouded in darkness with unmanageable vines clinging along its sides for dear life. A long tar swiveling driveway is before them, and toward the end is a light brown garage.

This is it? Angelica asks as she takes off her seat belt. Bruce touches his chest with a look of hurt on his face.

Ouch, that hurt, kiddo.

He gets out the car and walks over to her side, opening the door for her. She gets out of the car as well taking everything in. The night breeze slaps against her body, and she pulls her crème sweater over her arms and puts her arms around her chest. She looks at the massive mansion and the huge open windows. The inside of the house is dark and desolate. Some homes whispered about their previous owners. One could hear their laughter, dreams, maybe even feel their love. None of that shown here. Annoyance fills her to the brim as she takes out her suitcase and walks up the driveway with Bruce following behind.

Congratulations, Dad, you got us the haunted mansion.

Very funny, kiddo, hold in your excitement, you’re killing me with glee.

Somehow he’s gotten in front of her probably from excitement of showing off his new baby. She laughs as she trails behind him, taking on the thick shrubs that line both sides of the driveway. An old desolate stone fountain rests in the middle of the front yard. There is an angel that sits on top of it, its eyes gouged and no emotion rests there. Angelica can’t help but notice it but quickly looks away; it freaks her out.

They finally emerge to the two huge brown front doors. Bruce looks into his pocket, trying to find his keys. Angelica stares at her father, noticing his difference. His once thick neck-length black hair is short and salt-and-pepper colored. His clothes are older than his age, and his humor has become more sarcasm than entertainment. Time has surely altered him since her mother had died. Angelica can’t help but wonder if her mother would like this place? Would she be able to find the magic behind this prison? She is shaken out of reverie when Bruce says, Aha! I found them. They tried to hide from me, but they’re no match against Captain Bruce.

Dad, could you get any lamer?

I’m not lame, I think I’m pretty cold…ice-cold, he says as he turns to unlock the door.

Bruce swings open the door and moves out of the way, outstretching his hand, nodding toward Angelica to enter. Ladies first.

Angelica takes her suitcase and rolls it inside the mansion. All the lights are off as she walks inside. The brisk chill from inside greets her first, then she notices everything covered in white sheets. She can see the massive staircase before her through the open door light. Bruce trails in behind her and turns on the light switch, finally illuminating everything. Decor comes into view and familiar furniture catches her eyes. Their entire living room set has already been unpacked and set up. Her father had come earlier in the week to set everything up with the movers. Only some items remained