Hosts: a Highfields Horror Story: Highfields Stories, #1

By W. M. Gee

Tyreen Onoh is a regular teenage girl at the prestigious Highfields Boarding School for Girls. Her days consist of dodging classes, sneaking a cheeky vape in the bathrooms and her girlfriend Amy. But her nights are haunted by terrifying dreams that skitter on eight legs, looking for their next victim.,,

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. M. Gee
• Release date: Nov 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223991526

W. M. Gee

W. M. Gee is a writer who specialises in teen, horror, fantasy and sci-fi stories. His works often explore real world problems from adolescent perspectives, because — hey — we’ve all been there, right? In his free time, he loves writing poetry, reading sci-fi and painting minis. In 2021 he was awarded the people’s choice Golden Comma Award for his teen novella, "The List."  He published his first teen-horror novella (ebook and print), "The Woodcutter's Daughter" in 2023. He lives in London, England but longs to own a lighthouse and listen to the sounds of the sea. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

Tyreen Onoh ran for her life down the darkened hallways of Highfields Boarding School. Something was wrong. Something was chasing her. 

It walked and talked like Mr Donaldson, the kindly old Math teacher, but it growled and ran with preternatural ferocity and inhuman speed. 

Tyreen knew the sandstone hallways well, but her feet felt odd on the marbled floor. Her steps felt shorter; the expensive oil-paintings somehow higher up the wall. Donaldson was gaining on her. 

Tyreen stopped at the junction between science and English. A high cloister that she and her friends sometimes used as a whispering gallery domed over her head. Why did she want to scream? Why was she not able to?

The doors were closed, but light seeped from behind one of them. The-thing-that-was-no-longer-Donaldson raced up behind her. Tyreen shoved her shoulder against the sturdy, oaken door and forced it open. 

Inside the science annex, Dr Davies, Mr Pitt and the young science technician, Yacqub Faroosa, stood waiting with folded arms. There was another man there too. One that Tyreen didn’t recognize. In round-rimmed glasses and a bowtie.  He was standing like the others. Arms folded. In judgement. Like she was in trouble. Something about this felt extraordinarily wrong. 

But more than that — by the light of the candelabra — Tyreen could see that she was wrong. Her arms were short and stubby, she was at least a foot shorter than before, and her skin was a pasty, pale white. Not its usual healthy, chocolate-brown color. 

This was not her body! If that wasn’t enough – a quick check revealed – this wasn’t even a girl’s body. Tyreen looked around for a mirror, a window, or any surface of glass to see who she was. But there was none. 

With some difficulty, she turned her not-Tyreen body around and ran in the other direction. Straight into the arms of Mr Donaldson. 

Good work, Donaldson, Dr Davies intoned, adjusting her spectacles.

It’s nice to see science and math working together again, Mr Pitt chimed in, his north-of-England accent seeming somehow friendlier than Dr Davies’. 

Give the child to me! Yacqub Faroosa commanded greedily, and Mr Donaldson clamped his hands firmly down onto not-Tyreen’s shoulders. She could feel herself being marched forwards, marched like they made them march in their physical education lessons; the familiar drilling of routine. But no amount of routine could prepare Tyreen for what happened next. 

Something that was not Yacqub Faroosa, but was in his skin, opened its mouth. Where a tongue should have been, a strange, twitching mass of hairy flesh quivered in anticipation. Not hairy like a rat or a cat is hairy. Hairy like a spider and bristling with malign intent. 

Tyreen could feel herself twisting and wriggling to escape, but the more she tried to move this unfamiliar body, the harder Donaldson clamped down on it. The weird proboscis flicked out of Yacqub’s mouth. It was suddenly longer than before; longer than any human tongue could be.

It lashed from side to side, moving ever-closer to not-Tyreen’s own mouth. She tried to force her lips shut, to clamp her teeth down together as hard as Donaldson was clamping his hands down on her shoulders.

But it was no use. A moment ago, Tyreen had wanted to scream, but the scream would not come. Now, she wished desperately to remain silent, to grow stiff and play dead. But, despite herself, she could not stop her lips l opening and a deep, terrified scream pouring out.

The long, tongue-thing slipped and slithered its way into her now-open mouth. It felt cold and sharp and hard; Tyreen tasted blood.

There, there, dear, Mr Pitt reassured. It’ll all be over in a minute.

The hairy-tongue-thing wriggled into the back of Tyreen’s throat.

You’ll feel so much better in a minute. 

Tyreen struggled, and gagged, and finally gave up as the fleshy mass scratched past her throat and crawled inside her body.

You’ll feel just like us!

Tyreen woke with a start. 

She was in her bed. In her dorm. In Wray House. At school. 

Daylight was creeping in through the thick, velvet curtains. But the dream still clung to her and her breathing was heavy with it. 

Mmm, what’s the matter? came a sleepy voice from next to her. It was Amy. She was still half-asleep next to Tyreen, where she had lain the night before. Her curly red hair a perfect mess of bedhead.

Gods, I had a dream! Tyreen began. 

Mmm, I like dreams, Amy muttered, a happy smile growing wide on her freckled face. She cuddled up to Tyreen, but then noticed how the girl was holding her body. 

You’re stiff as a board, Amy went on. Are you sure you’re not a boy? and she giggled and kissed Tyreen on the cheek.

Tyreen relaxed back into the kiss. She was safe. She was with Amy. It was a normal day. Just a normal day like any oth–

Crap! Tyreen exclaimed, sitting up.

‘What?" Amy asked, her tone disturbed by yet another interruption to cuddle-time.

It’s Monday, Ames, Tyreen answered.

So?

So, Manners will be doing her rounds!

Miss Manners was their uncompromising house mistress.

Shit! Amy shot upright.

If she catches you in bed with me, she’ll move you into Cushing House! Tyreen added with urgency.

Tyreen pulled a spare white shirt out of the closet, while Amy hopped around on one foot, trying to get out of her pajamas and into her black skirt.

You never told me, Amy said as she pulled on her bra and buttoned up the clean shirt Tyreen gave her. 

Tyreen cocked her head in a confused manner. 

About your dream...

Oh. Tyreen smiled dismissively. It’s nothing. There was just this boy—

Boy?? Amy expostulated. "There are no boys at Highfields. You’re not going all het on me, are you?"

She stroked Tyreen’s arm playfully as she slipped her black DMs on. 

It doesn’t matter, Tyreen replied, smiling. 

How do I look? Amy asked, fixing Tyreen with one of her pleading-eyes looks.

Gorgeous, Tyreen replied, wrapping a curl of Amy’s long, red hair around her finger. As always.

Amy grinned and kissed Tyreen on the lips. 

Now go! Tyreen commanded, playfully. Get breakfast. And a shower. Before the day-kids arrive!

Love you, bae! Amy crooned and stole another quick kiss from Tyreen’s lips. 

Awww, love you too, boo, Tyreen replied. 

Tyreen watched her secret-girlfriend go and smiled. Normally, being around Amy calmed her down. But today she couldn’t shake that feeling of helplessness from the dream. She felt a lump rising in her throat and tried to swallow it away. When she did, she felt a tickling at the back of her tongue. She gave a little cough. There was something irritating the back of Tyreen’s throat. 

She reached inside and pulled the foreign object from her mouth. It was a hair. Not like a rat hair. Or a cat hair. This looked and felt like the thin, spindly hair of a cold, hard-bodied spider. 

Chapter 2

I t was just a dream , Ty! Jin proclaimed, flicking her black fringe out of the way of her brown eyes. As Tyreen picked up pace down the mosaic-tiled hallways of Highfields Boarding School, Jin struggled to keep up with her long stride. 

The Highfields students, some 650 of the most-bored, most-kept-away-from-the-world girls, had been on high alert all morning. 

I don’t know, Jin, Tyreen replied. "There was that whole bunch of teachers that left last year; that new catering company with the awful food; and now they’re calling this special assembly."

Prolly Miss Manners just going to tell us all again how we’ll be Queens of the Future, Jin reassured, and flicked her hair again. 

Tyreen would normally roll her eyes at the mention of their House Mistress, but she still had the taste of last night’s dream in her mouth. 

You can’t really think, Jin went on, "that they’ve called four house assemblies because of your dream?"

What?! Tyreen stopped in her tracks. The other houses are getting them too?

Jin put her arms around her thin waist and answered her friend.

Well, I talked with Kinga in Gellar House and Wiktoria in Lee, and they’re getting them. I heard it’s going to be an important announcement.

If it’s so important, Tyreen asked, why wouldn’t they call a Whole School, instead? 

Jin nodded off through the cloisters in the direction of St Tugal’s. The old church was the only place big enough for the whole school to meet in, and it was still wrapped in scaffolding and warning tape. 

It was just a dream, Jin declared again. Then added, Yacqub would never hurt any of us...

Jin’s face unrolled that far-away look again, and— 

Was that Impulse vanilla body-spray Tyreen detected wafting off her friend?

Fine, Tyreen declared, pacing like she wanted a cigarette (she did want a cigarette), let’s just get through assembly and maybe things will get back to normal.

Jin smiled wryly. 

Miss Manners’ assemblies had a way of seeping the life out a person’s veins the way a tree seeps moisture out of the ground. Slowly. And painstakingly. And taking more pains with each passing year in the school. Tyreen had passed two full years there already. This was the start of her third, and she could have enough of Miss Manners and her haughty stares. 

But this assembly was different. Manners was joined on the stage of the Shelley Hall by one of the vice principals. Professor Ephraim Fink. A nervous energy rippled through the students and the staff too. The curtains across the front of the stage were drawn. The curtains were never drawn, and the red, velvet backdrop picked out Manners’ modest, black, halter neck dress and Professor Fink’s tweed suit. Their black gowns framed them perfectly against the red and made them look a little like vampires.

What’s Stinky Finky doing here? Amy whispered to Tyreen. Amy was standing one row behind Tyreen and towards the main door out of the wood-paneled hall. 

"I will have silence, Professor Fink boomed. In 3 — 2 —" At the countdown— under the withering eye of Fink — shirts tucked themselves in; skirts immediately lengthened to just above the knee; and false eyelashes magnetized themselves to concealed bracelets and necklaces. 

— 1!

The Shelley Hall shrank into silence.  It was only now that Tyreen realized the way that Fink was holding the lectern at the front of the stage. The grip of his fingers — almost like talons — was exactly the way Mr Donaldson had been holding the shoulders of not-Tyreen in the dream. Firm. And crushing. Like a vise.

Good morning boarders, Professor Fink began in his bassy, Scottish tones. And welcome back day-students to the start of a brand-new month at Highfields. October promises to be a very exciting time.

As always, Fink went on, we expect our students to uphold the highest of standards of dress and behavior.

The vice-principal’s eyes came to rest on a Year 8 girl, one row in front of Tyreen. She shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze. 

And our student number will be growing this year—

Great, Tyreen thought. Another new girl. She remembered the last new girl. Stacey Dooley. She hadn’t lasted more than one of Manners’ contraband inspections before she’d been pexxed. Permanently excluded. Which was a shame. Stacey knew where to get all sorts of things that Tyreen was definitely not supposed to be into. 

Some of you will have heard last month of the terrible fire at St Anthony’s School over in Breine—

At the mention of the school’s name, several of the girls stiffened. There were some girls at Highfields who knew all about the school in the next town over. It was just a short train ride away from Highfields station. There was nothing there that interested Tyreen, of course, but all the same. 

—And the predicament of its nearly-200 students—

Tyreen did not like where this was heading. 

—Well, I am happy to announce that, in keeping with our school values of compassion and civic virtue, we will be welcoming our St Anthony’s brothers to Highfields for the rest of the year.

Tyreen’s head sank. However, the effect on the other girls was markedly different. Most began to look around at their peers, excitedly; many began to smile with hopeful expectation; some began to clap their hands together or look gratefully towards the sky. 

Brothers...

St Anthony’s was a school for boys. There were going to be boys at Highfields. Living amongst them. Getting into all their business. Messing with heads and friendships (and a good deal more too, Tyreen feared). 

—Yes, Fink paused. And then he did something that made Tyreen shrink into her chair and the flesh on her