The Haunting Of Holland House: The Ghost Hunters Apprentice, #1

By J. J. Maguire

WELCOME TO LOOMIS FALLS…

 

Todd Flanagan is living the dream.

 

Once a nerdy outcast obsessed with the paranormal, Todd has shaken off his past and become a high school football star with growing popularity.

 

But that dream becomes a nightmare. 

 

When Todd's old friends mysteriously vanish one by one after investigating the creepy old abandoned Holland House, Todd must make a choice: sit and do nothing or save the friends he turned his back on.

 

And Todd can't face the evil of Holland House alone.

 

He's going to need the help of Shirley James, a reclusive, eccentric and washed up paranormal investigator. 

 

Together, they must enter the nightmarish walls of Holland House and face a terrifying evil that neither are prepared for.

 

Enter the world of THE GHOST HUNTERS APPRENTICE, a young adult horror series that will leave you living in fear of that shadow in your closet, that bump under your bed...

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. J. Maguire
• Release date: Mar 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224580996

J. J. Maguire

J. J. Maguire is an author and filmmaker from the North West of England, where he lives with his stunning and long-suffering fiancee, and their two amazing children. Oh, and two sinister cats.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Alot of people asked why Todd Flanagan caused the apocalypse.

Was it love? Grief? Rage? An innocent mistake?

You could say it was all of those things.

But the truth? Well, it all started when his old friends, Chris and Amy, decided to explore Holland House one night...

---

Chris adjusted the LED torch-light strapped to his forehead, the white lights blinking as the device powered on.

He cleared his throat and adopted his ‘YouTube Chris’ tone..

What's up guys, welcome back to another episode of 'Spirits Among Us'! I'm your host Chris Stine. He paused and glanced back at Amy expectantly.

You're standing right in front of a bush, Amy said flatly, holding her own camera pointed at him.

Chris looked around. Oh, crap. He shuffled over a few feet so the decrepit facade of Holland House was visible behind him.

Tonight, we're investigating the infamous Holland House, site of countless ghostly encounters and paranormal phenomena over the past century. He waggled his fingers spookily.

Amy snorted. It's only been abandoned for like, twenty years or something, not a century.

Shh, stop ruining the ambiance! Chris protested. He cleared his throat again. Local legend tells of otherworldly figures stalking the dilapidated halls, hellbent on tormenting any who dare to disturb them.

Actually, the local legend is that Old Man Holland was a piss-head who neglected the place, Amy corrected.

Chris rolled his eyes. Will you let me do the intro? Shit. He started over, now adopting an exaggerated Transylvanian accent.

Velcome to Holland House, a vortex of tortured souls and malevolent forces...

Amy burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face. Okay, okay, enough. Just go with the real history, not this over-the-top BS.

Chris dropped the accent with a huff. Ugh fine, ruin all my artistic liberties... He tried again, now in a flat, bored tone. Holland House, abandoned dump, possibly has some ghosts or whatever. Yay.

Before Amy could critique him again, Chris marched up the stone pathway to the front door. He grasped the handle, the ancient wood creaking as it swung inward.

A musty odour wafted out of the dark interior.

Chris stepped gingerly over the threshold, his head-light cutting through the inky blackness.

Well, we're inside, he announced to the camera. Let's see what secrets this old place is hiding.

Amy lingered on the doorstep, zooming her camera in on Chris's tense expression. She took a steadying breath and followed him into the dilapidated house, the floorboards groaning beneath their feet.

Amy stepped gingerly over the creaky floorboards, keeping her camera trained on Chris as he grandly gestured around the dilapidated front parlour. His headlamp cast dramatic shadows across the peeling floral wallpaper and dust-covered antique furnishings.

Spirits of Holland House, reveal yourselves to us! Chris called out in an exaggerated spooky voice. He held up a digital audio recorder. We wish to document your tortured existence for our YouTube channel. Please communicate with us through this device!

He clicked the recorder on and set it down on a mouldy velvet chair. The two waited in silence, but there was no response except the occasional groan of the old house settling.

Chris cleared his throat, glancing back at Amy. Well, while we wait for some EVPs, let's take a walk through the rest of this creepy old joint.

He ventured towards a dark hallway leading deeper into the house. Amy followed, zooming her camera in on his tense expression.

Get any close-ups of my face looking scared shitless, Chris whispered to her with a nervous chuckle.

You got it, Mr. Bestiality, Amy replied, rolling her eyes but complying.

They moved through a dining room with peeling floral wallpaper and a heavy oak table covered in dust. Chris paused dramatically in each decrepit room, calling out to the spirits in increasingly quavering voices.

But each time, only silence answered.

After sweeping the whole first floor, they came back to the front parlour and checked the audio recorder.

But it had picked up nothing except their own footsteps and voices.

Chris's shoulders slumped. Well, that was a bust.

Amy kept filming him, zooming in on his disappointed face. Yeah, not gonna lie, that was kind of dull. The video is missing something.

Chris turned to her, indignant. Hey, I was giving an Oscar-worthy performance! The ghosts are clearly just camera shy.

Amy lowered her camera with a sigh. It's not that. The bits where it's just you calling out to nothing get old fast. We need... She trailed off, hesitating.

Need what? Chris asked.

Amy bit her lip. I mean, don't you think we need Todd?

Chris's eyes widened in disbelief behind his glasses. Are you actually kidding me right now? he exploded. You want that backstabbing dickhead here after he ditched us?

Amy held up her hands defensively. I know, I know, but-

But nothing! Chris interrupted, his voice rising in anger. Need I remind you that he abandoned us to hang out with the A-Listers? You know, the ones who used to piss on my packed lunch on a daily basis?

Of course I remember, Amy said gently. But we were all so close. I just miss how things used to be.

Chris let out a harsh laugh. Yeah, well, time to get your head out of the past and wake up. Todd wants nothing to do with us anymore. He made that crystal clear.

Amy looked down, fiddling with her camera.

She knew Chris was right, but part of her clung to those memories of bonding over their shared passion for the paranormal. She wished Todd could see how much fun they were having without him.

I just thought it'd be nice for him to see what he's missing out on, she mumbled. 

Chris threw his hands up in exasperation. Unbelievable. You know where he is right now? Playing football. FOOTBALL. And after that, he's probably going to some football after-party at the dam right now with the other meatheads, right? Slurping shots off some cheerleader's stomach? Why should we waste another second thinking about him?

Amy sighed, her shoulders slumping. You're right. I'm sorry. 

She looked around the room, desperately wanting to change the subject. Her gaze landed on Chris's audio recorder sitting untouched on the velvet chair.

Hey, why don't I get some b-roll footage of the house while you listen back to the EVP recording outside? she suggested brightly. We can splice it in later for some spooky atmosphere.

Chris shrugged, still looking annoyed. Fine, whatever. Just stop going on about Stupid Toddy.

He snatched up the audio recorder and stomped towards the front door, the floorboards creaking under his sneakers. Over his shoulder he called out, Text me if any ghosts show up to chat since they're clearly too good for my company.

The old door slammed shut behind him, leaving Amy alone in the silent darkness of Holland House.

Amy stood alone.

The thought of venturing deeper into this creepy old house by herself made her stomach twist with anxiety.

Still, they needed more footage of the decrepit interior to splice into their ghost hunting video.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Amy hefted her camera and crept towards the grand staircase leading to the second floor. The aged wooden steps creaked and groaned under her feet as she ascended into the upper hallway.

It was darker up here without the moonlight streaming in through the first floor windows.

Amy's palms began to sweat as she panned her camera slowly across the narrow corridor. Peeling floral wallpaper, dust-coated picture frames, and locked doors lining the hall - it all looked lifeless in the eerie green glow of the night vision filter.

Until - Amy froze, pulse racing.

On the small camera monitor, she could see a dark silhouette standing motionless at the end of the hallway.

But when she lifted her eye from the screen to look directly, nothing was there.

Hands shaking, she lifted the viewfinder back to her eye. The shadowy figure had moved closer.

Amy's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the male form drifting down the hall towards her, edges blurry and distorted.

H-hello? she called out nervously. Chris, is that you?

No answer.

She blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to focus.

But only through the camera lens could she see the wavering shape drawing nearer, darkness oozing from it.

Amy's muscles locked up in fear.

She wanted desperately to run, but some magnetic force kept her rooted there, camera aimed ahead as the shrieking spectre loomed just before her.

Its face suddenly appeared right in her viewfinder - a misshapen swirl of darkness, eyes glowing white and a gaping maw opened wide in a deafening howl.

Amy's blood-curdling scream pierced the stillness.

---

Chris paced back and forth on the overgrown lawn, glancing impatiently at the peeling front door of Holland House.

What was taking Amy so long?

Amy, you find anything yet or what? he called out, his voice echoing down the dark hallway.

No response.

He shivered, the night air feeling suddenly colder.

Maybe he should go check on her. She was probably just lost in that big old rambling house.

Chris stepped towards the front door when a blood-curdling scream rang out from inside, cutting through the silence like a knife.

And the front door slammed shut with a snarl.

Amy! Chris shouted, adrenaline spiking as he grabbed the tarnished door handle and pushed with all his might.

But the door wouldn't budge.

He threw his shoulder against it repeatedly, the old wood groaning but refusing to give.

Come on, you stupid... Chris trailed off as an eerie green glow began emanating from inside the house, leaking out through the cracked windows and underneath the door frame.

The glow intensified, as if the house had become filled with radioactive slime, illuminating the lawn in a sickly emerald hue.

Chris froze, eyes wide, as Amy's screams abruptly stopped. The only sound was the frantic pounding of his heart.

What the hell was happening in there?

The door began to rattle violently in its frame as the mysterious green light flared brighter, forcing Chris to shield his eyes.

A blast of frigid air hit him, carrying a foul, decaying odour - like a tomb opening for the first time in centuries.

Chris stumbled backwards, gripped by a sudden, primal urge to get as far away from this house as possible.

He whirled around, his Converse trainers pounding against the walkway as he broke into a dead sprint towards the street.

Lungs burning, he risked a glance back over his shoulder.

The entirety of Holland House was now engulfed in the supernatural emerald glow, tendrils of light leaking out from the windows and into the surrounding forest.

The trees nearest the house had begun to wither, leaves turning brown and branches curling in on themselves like decaying claws.

Chris's mind reeled as he ran.

What happened to Amy?

Guilt gnawed at his gut.

He never should have let her go up there alone.

The glow pursuing him down the road suddenly wavered then extinguished itself entirely, plunging the woods back into darkness. Chris slowed to a stop, hands braced on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

His legs felt like jelly, clothes soaked with nervous sweat.

He knew exactly who he needed to go to first.

Someone he once considered his best friend, before everything changed.

Someone popular now.