The Unquiet: Secrets From A Haunted Home

By J.T. Harrow

Unearth a chilling tale of love, betrayal, and spectral hauntings in "The Unquiet: Secrets From A Haunted Home". Every home has its stories, but some are too horrifying to be told...until now.

 

When Emily acquired her seemingly idyllic house, she had no inkling that she was buying a ticket into a haunting past. The walls whisper and shadows dance, and she knows she's not alone. Enter John, a paranormal investigator, who's just as ensnared in the home's enigma as she is. Together, they set off on a spine-tingling journey to untangle the truth from the legends.

 

As the duo explore uncharted terrains of supernatural mysteries and unsolved crimes, they are stalked by Margaret — a spectral presence yearning for justice. Will Emily's visions and séances provide the missing pieces of the puzzle? Or will they be lost in the labyrinth of deception that stretches back decades?

 

Their relationship deepens under the weight of shared fears and intertwined destinies, even as the house tests their courage and threatens their sanity. As they close in on the harrowing secret behind Margaret's untimely death, they must decide: are they investigators, or are they pawns in a much larger, more dangerous game?

 

"The Unquiet: Secrets From A Haunted Home" fuses the suspense of a thriller with the intricate plotting of a mystery and the emotional depth of a love story. Be prepared to stay up all night flipping pages, chilled to your core but too enthralled to stop.

 

Dare to step over the threshold? The truth awaits you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.T. Harrow
• Release date: Sep 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215792452

Book preview

Chapter 1:

The House on Elm Street

The sun was setting over the quaint suburban town of Hollow Creek, casting a warm, golden light over the rows of charming houses. It was one of those towns where people knew their neighbors, where the laughter of children playing in the yards was a familiar tune, and where traditions ran deep.

But traditions, Emily knew, often bore secrets, masked behind the friendly smiles and the white picket fences. As she drove her aging sedan onto Elm Street, she felt a prickle at the nape of her neck. The feeling wasn't new; it was the same uncanny sensation she'd had when she first saw the listing for the old Victorian house — her new home. Yet, she'd shrugged off her apprehensions, too lured by the beauty and affordability of the place to back out now.

New Home, New Fears

THE CREAKY GATE SEEMED to groan in agony as Emily pushed it open. She took in her new home: an imposing Victorian mansion, crowned with weathered shingles and adorned with ivy like nature's own jewelry. Staring up at it, Emily felt a strange blend of excitement and dread. The towering façade was both grand and ominous, its large windows staring down like hollow eyes. This house had a story; she could feel it in her bones.

Her steps on the wooden floorboards echoed in the empty house as she moved in, each creak amplifying her sense of isolation. Emily wandered through the rooms, her eyes tracing the ornate molding, the vintage wallpapers, and the antique fixtures. Despite its beauty, there was an air of abandonment that clung to the place, like cobwebs in forgotten corners. With each room she entered, the weight of her decision grew heavier.

I can do this, she whispered to herself, unpacking her boxes in what she had decided would be her bedroom. A photograph of her and her late father was the first thing she set up on the vintage mahogany dresser. I need to move on, and this is the first step, she reasoned, her eyes momentarily fogging up.

Later that evening, she sat down with a glass of wine, her body sinking into a worn but comfortable couch. Just as she was about to chalk up the day's apprehensions to the stress of moving and the emotional baggage she was carrying, a sudden chill cut through the room, sending a shiver down her spine. She looked around, half-expecting to see something out of place, but found nothing amiss. It's just part of being in an old house, she muttered, taking a hearty sip of her wine, willing her heartbeat to slow down.

The Neighbor Knows

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, as Emily was wrestling with an overgrown rose bush in the front yard, she noticed a figure approaching from next door. It was an elderly woman, probably in her sixties, dressed impeccably in a floral dress and a sun hat that belonged to a bygone era. Her eyes, however, were sharp as a hawk's, dissecting Emily with a scrutiny that was borderline unsettling.

Good morning, the woman greeted, her voice tinged with a strange mix of warmth and caution. I'm Mrs. Whitman. I live just next door.

Hi, Mrs. Whitman, I'm Emily, she replied, extending a gloved hand. It's nice to meet you.

Yes, the pleasure is all mine, said Mrs. Whitman, her eyes darting from Emily to the Victorian house. You're brave, my dear, moving into this old house. Not many are willing to take on its...character.

The choice of words struck Emily as odd, but she brushed it off. I've always been charmed by older homes, actually. They have so much more personality than the modern boxes most people live in.

Oh, personality, yes, Mrs. Whitman said, chuckling in a way that sent another shiver down Emily's spine. This house has plenty of that. I've seen many come and go over the years. I do hope you stay.

The words hung in the air long after Mrs. Whitman bid her goodbye and walked back to her own immaculate house. Emily couldn't help but wonder what she had meant. It was as if her words held a coded message, a veiled warning wrapped in pleasantries.

Mrs. Whitman seemed to know something about the house that Emily did not. The thought gnawed at her throughout the day, compounding the sense of apprehension she couldn't shake off. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the house in shadows that seemed darker than the night before.

As Emily climbed into bed, she couldn't shake the thought that she