The Lost Of Spidercreep Hollow: The Secret Files of Jest R Wicked

By Jesse Horn

When a boy wakes up near a seemingly abandoned village with no memory of who he is or how he got there he sets out to uncover the truth behind what has happened. What he learns will both challenge and terrify him.Filled with suspense, adventure, and dark comedy, this first installment of the Secret Files of Jest R. Wicked has the hero up against a crazed doctor, people with a dark secret, unspeakable creatures, and an uncomfortable amount of spiders.In the same tradition of A Series of Unfortunate Events, The Name of This Book is Secret, and Coraline comes what Liz Szabla at Feiwel & Friends calls "a fun read" and John Rudolph of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management says is "an ambitious undertaking and I liked the creepy atmosphere". "This one has some great hooks going for it" says Jim Thomas/Nick Eliopulos at Random House.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jesse Horn
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223666974

Book preview

The Lost

of Spidercreep Hollow

Introduction

The following story is true, or at least written by someone who knows things that are true and with the only exception of the events depicted in this book, this account is completely accurate.  As the acting field research assistant to Jest R. Wicked, I have conducted countless hours of interviews with, not only Mr. Wicked himself, but the endless array of others who have been involved in the accusations presented by these secret files.

This is the first time that this information has been made public, and it serves as a fantastic and yet chilling first hand account of how as a young teenager Mr. Wicked struggled to survive a frightening and valiant escape from the clutches of evil.

Along with the original manuscript of this volume, I received from Mr. Wicked a letter from one of the villagers, some sketches to create the illustrations, one of the stripped snakes from chapter five, and detailed instructions on how to proceed. Included in the letter was the following message:

To whom it may concern,

There are many moments in life when one can look back and say, I really wish I knew then what I know now, I might have made a better choice. However, there are few of us who have the misfortune to be able to say, If I could only remember what I used to know, I might be able to make it through this horrible and desperate moment.

This is one of those rare events when the introduction to this book is not only introducing the story and my part in it, but as I found myself without memory, it also serves as an introduction to my introduction to myself.

Had I owned a copy of this book during my terrible stay in that strange and frightening village, I could have skipped to the end and discovered something very important about myself. This would have not only made things far less confusing, but also made my stay in that strange place considerably less violent.

However, I did not have this book, and without it I could not have known about all the horrible things which I was running from before I was knocked unconscious. With the loss of my memory, I could not have known where it was that I was going, nor would I have had any idea that so many people around me could share such a dark and awful secret.

As frightening as it was, this was not my first step in a long and horrible journey, and as I struggled to unlock the secrets of whom I was, and why I found myself in the shadow of the village of Spidercreep Hollow, I learned that answers only lead to more questions.

Sincerely,

Jest R. Wicked

To my Sweetest Sister Lucy,

Even though I know you are gone, I feel I should write to you anyway. There is a small part of me that hopes you are out there somewhere, still able to see this. It has been months since you were taken from us, and the last of the village has fallen to the evil in the hospital. There is none of us left. I have held on to hope as long as I can that by some miracle someone might come along that can save us from this dark cloud... To save us from the nightmare that stalks us and has taken you away.

Today I wrote something fitting under the village sign that will let those who might travel pass know what has happened in this place. As the fog seems to grow and take from us all light and life, so to does it seem to take the last bit of hope that there will ever be anything but the darkness. I miss you sister, and perhaps you are one of the lucky ones after all, to have perished rather then suffer in this endless horror.

Love,

Your Sister,

Hazel

Chapter One:

Things That Go Bump

In the Dark

There are some mornings in life when you awake in your bed feeling very uncomfortable. Sometimes your discomfort is due to the fact that during the night you somehow managed to completely twist yourself up within your blankets, and then ended upside down at the foot of your bed. Other times this could be due to a particularly difficult situation in which you may have taken part in before going to sleep. Now that the sun has risen, you are left with the uncomfortable and unpleasant feeling of not knowing whether you should get out of bed, or just hide under the covers.

On the particular morning in which this story begins, there was an interesting and complex mixture of discomforts that seemed to overwhelm me.

As I awoke I can remember that the first thing I could hear was the strange sound of a distressed bird, squawking and jabbing me in the back of my head. My brain throbbed, and as I pulled myself from the damp, cold mud, I could now see that it was not just the soil that I had used as an uncomfortable bed for the night, but also a small nest as a pillow.

I tried to apologize to the angry bird as I pushed its pecking beak to a safer distance and was shocked by an incredible pain that burned up my left leg and into my spine.

I moved my foot over from the thick wet mud and smeared it from my skin to find a dirty red mixture of clay and a strange kind of black ash. I took a good look around where I sat in that cold and foggy morning air, and soon realized that I was resting next to a dirt road just before a large sign. Beyond the stillness of the gray haze I could see a dense wood that hovered and surrounded me.

I was a little unnerved by the sight of such a ghostly looking forest, and as the fear settled in I tried to stand and remember anything about how I had gotten to such a strange place.

I winced as I used the post of the slightly tilted sign to stand, and began to slowly panic as the emptiness of my memory would not leave me. I tried to shake it off and then grabbed my forehead sharply as my brain began to pound and throb harder from the motion. I tried to remember anything. Where was I yesterday, or the day before, but there was nothing. What was my last meal, or where did I live?

I started to become anxious as I struggled to remember my mother’s face, or if I had any pets? How old was I, or who were my friends? And then finally the most horrifying question of all came to mind, and I fought deeply to search for an answer that just would not come... 

...Who was I?

For a long while I stood and stared into blankness, searching my mind for any memory that seemed real. As my balance slowly came back to me and the world stopped feeling like it was spinning out of control, I stood back to get a better look at the sign that I was leaning against.

It read: The Village of Spidercreep Hollow and under those carved and chipped letters was a hand painted addition that resembled many other city signs I had seen throughout my years of travel.

I don’t know if you have ever noticed, but under many signs that mark the entrance to a particular city or town, there is usually a phrase written under it to serve as a one sentence guide of what to expect from that area. For example, a town might be very full of bakeries and candy stores, and as such might have under its name the sentence How Sweet the Streets. As another example, there may be a larger city that is full of aquariums and zoos, and as such you might see listed under its name You’ll have a wild time.

This village however, had something unusual written under the old and fading letters of its name, and as I read them out loud to myself I could not help but wonder if it had some dark and sinister meaning. In a scratchy style of black splatter were written the words Home is where you leave your heart.  

I tried straining to see further down the pathway into this strange village, but there was nothing but the grim silhouettes of some small, dark and misshapen buildings. As I pulled my shoes out of the soft black mud, I stumbled awkwardly onto the dirt road beside me. I felt a cold chill flow past me as if announcing my return to a road I could not remember traveling, and there came over me the eerie feeling of being watched. I tried to shield myself from the cold as best as I could  and started to move towards the village and fog. I was determined to find out who I was and what had happened to me.

The road into the village was unpaved and made from a dirt and gravel type mixture, and though I was not wet from any kind of rain, the path was moist from a heavy mist that lingered in the thick air. The trees were overgrown and had a rich dark green that reminded me of something you might find floating on a beach somewhere. I could barely see past the plants that lined the passage into the village, and each seemed to reach up into an unseen sky.  

As I walked I tried to kick some of the heavy rocks that had stuck to the soles of my shoes, and I placed my hands into my thin, gray suit jacket pockets. I wondered for a moment why I would be wearing such a coat when I realized that along with my shivering hands, there was an unnoticed item jammed into one of the pockets as well. I stopped in the middle of the gray and unwelcoming road and pulled out a crumpled rectangular envelope with a name printed on the front in large letters.

On the front it read: Jest R. Wicked and on the back it had a torn section and the only visible letters remaining were: -LLOW which I could only guess marked the ending of the name of the village I was entering.

I began to open the paper to take a look inside when I was startled by the strangest squeal that jolted from behind me. I quickly stuffed the envelope back into my pocket and spun around to watch a wild and frenzied bird fly past in a horrified craze, disappearing into the fog. 

There was such a deathly and uneasy stillness that settled around me that I could almost feel something slowly moving closer to me. I stood and stared into the white haze waiting for a moment to see if there was indeed something coming through the darkness after me.

The fog only seemed to be getting thicker, and although at that moment I wanted more then anything to understand who I was or what was happening, nothing came to me but the fog. Was I dreaming? There was no sound that whispered from the breeze which passed over the leaves of the dark trees, and there was no rustle or buzz of insects or birds moving off in the distance. Had it not been for the terrified bird who had just flown by, I would have thought that I was the only living thing left in that strange nightmarish landscape.

I moved forward and strained my ears to see if I could tell what it was that the poor bird had been so afraid of, but could hear and feel nothing but the wet cold fog as it became ever thicker. I decided that if I wanted any chance of being able to see where it was that I was entering, I would have to do so before the mist took away any chance I had left to see. 

I could make out the faint outline of buildings through the haunting glow of sunlight, and as I moved my way down each empty street and it became a bit easier to see I began to notice that there was no sign of life in any direction that I took. I thought of yelling to see if there was anyone inside one of the houses, but I again thought of the bird and the strange feeling I got as I stared into the fog.  If that animal was as frightened as it was, shouldn’t I be just as afraid of anything or anyone in this village.

After all, I had no idea how I had lost my memory or how I had gotten here, and for all I knew, something horrible happened here and I was the only one to escape it. What if I had managed to get away from whatever took the people of this dreadful village, and now I had mindlessly walked back into the middle of that horrible event?

As these thoughts flooded my still throbbing head, I felt the strangest furry pressure move across my leg and I yelped and hopped over to the side.

Please don’t eat me! I cried out, but there was only silence. I peered down at the pulsating form that almost hovered next to the street, and it made an eerie and dreamlike vibration as it moved next to me. I wasn‘t completely sure what it could be, and I carefully hunched over and squinted my eyes. As I moved slowly forward, waiting for the creature to leap up at me, I heard a sound that was like a breath of fresh air.

Meow, the creature said, and I reached down and picked up a ragged and muddy white cat that looked almost as scared and tattered as I was.

I sure am glad to see you kitty, what is going on here? I brushed some of the mud off the cat’s legs and paws and held its shivering body close to mine so that we both could find a sense of comfort.

What do you say we find us somewhere safe until we figure out what is going on in this dreadful place? There has got to be something here that can tell us what has happened to everything... and everyone, including myself.

I held tightly to the cat and continued on down the winding and abandoned roadway until I came to a small boarded up store. It was shambled and weathered with windows that were smashed and broken. Painted in large