If Houses Could Talk: A Contemporary Fantasy Short Story

By Connor Whiteley

A Bad House. A Woman. A Dangerous Owner.

Houses talk to people who listen.

Evie Harris talks to houses. She helps houses live in peace. Evie investigates a house terrorising its owners.

The fate of the house depends on her.

A fun, exciting, enthralling fantasy story.

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Also available in Criminally Good Stories Volume 4.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CGD Publishing
• Release date: Apr 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215468524

Connor Whiteley

Hello, I'm Connor Whiteley, I am an 18-year-old who loves to write creatively, and I wrote my Brownsea trilogy when I was 14 years old after I went to Brownsea Island on a scout camp. At the camp, I started to think about how all the broken tiles and pottery got there and somehow a trilogy got created.Moreover, I love writing fantasy and sci-fi novels because you’re only limited by your imagination.In addition, I'm was an Explorer Scout and I love camping, sailing and other outdoor activities as well as cooking.Furthermore, I do quite a bit of charity work as well. For example: in early 2018 I was a part of a youth panel which was involved in creating a report with research to try and get government funding for organised youth groups and through this panel. I was invited to Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party and how some of us got in the royal photograph.Finally, I am going to university and I hope to get my doctorate in clinical psychology in a few years.

Book preview

IF HOUSES COULD TALK

Evie Harris stepped through a large white front door into a rather tasteful living room of a large four-bedroom house in the south of England. The living room wasn’t anything amazing in itself with its cold white walls, two black sofas and small TV that hung on the wall opposite the sofas.

Evie had been in plenty of homes in her time to investigate so-called supernatural activity but this living room was a little sad in a way. Normally the living room was the heart of the family home, but on the living room’s walls there weren’t any family pictures, art or nothing to add a bit of warmth.

There wasn’t even much of a table in front of the sofas to put piping hot mugs of tea, coffee or whatever drink the house owners wanted to have. All that stood half-proud in front of the sofas was a badly beaten up table-thing made from driftwood. Evie was sure that her ten-year-old kid could make something better than that.

The only benefit of the living room was that on the far side it had a very large archway that looked like