Nightmare Ascension: Wednesday: Child of Woe, #7

By Francesco Santora

Enter Wednesday's World of Darkness. Follow Merlina as she navigates the treacherous path from innocence to darkness, guided by the enigmatic Wednesday and her sister Frigsday. Delve into the depths of the human psyche as Merlina confronts her inner demons and grapples with the seductive allure of power. Will she embrace her newfound abilities, or will she be consumed by the shadows that threaten to engulf her? Prepare to be enthralled by this haunting journey into the heart of darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Francesco Santora
• Release date: Mar 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224781522

Francesco Santora

I learned long ago the best person to write the stroies I like is myself. If you want to come along too then welcom to my World of Darkness. 

Book preview

Chapter 1: The New House

The car, an ancient, rust-bucket sedan, rattled its final death sigh as Merlina's father cut the engine. Everything about their new dwelling screamed wrongness – the crooked turrets piercing the dusk like broken fingers, that widow's walk casting a judgmental shadow across the overgrown lawn. A shiver snaked through Merlina, not entirely from the late-afternoon chill.

We're gonna be murdered in our beds, Merlina mumbled under her breath, a touch of gallows humor masking the unease clawing at her insides. She slammed the car door harder than necessary, the reverberation echoing through the oppressive silence that held the faint tang of rotten apples and stagnant water.

Her mother, already stooped beneath the weight of their first box, shot her a disapproving look. Merlina Grace, you'll do no such thing. We need to focus on the positive. This is a chance for us, a clean slate. But even her usual iron-clad optimism seemed to falter under the oppressive gaze of the crumbling mansion.

Merlina sighed, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her battered hoodie. The porch steps groaned under their combined weight, the chipped paint whispering of forgotten histories. This house didn't just hold dust and cobwebs; it breathed with secrets, a story begging to be unearthed. The realization made her breath hitch – she wanted to be the one to unravel it.

The heavy wooden door swung inward with a shriek that echoed through the dimness. Inside, a grand, winding staircase spiraled upwards, its intricate, hand-carved wooden banister hinting at the maze of rooms hidden in the shadows. The air crackled with the sharp scent of mothballs, battling the underlying musk of age and disuse.

Leaving her parents to their unpacking, Merlina followed an inexplicable instinct. Each step across the creaking floorboards felt sacrilegious, an intrusion into a space suspended in time. As she ventured deeper into the house, the unsettling atmosphere seeped into her bones like a chill mist. She found herself drawn to the shadows dancing along the walls, sensing a whispered invitation to explore the old home's hidden depths.

The threshold creaked under her weight, sending a ripple of unease through Merlina. It wasn't just the musty air or the ancient chill; something else coiled within the walls, a presence as tangible as the dust motes swirling in the shafts of anemic sunlight.

The once-grand vestibule loomed before them, its faded grandeur speaking of lives lived and lost. Eerie whispers seemed to cling to the cracking plaster, the peeling wallpaper – echoes of conversations long past. An oppressive silence enveloped them, broken only by their hesitant footsteps, each creak of the floorboards a betrayal of their intrusion.

Merlina's skin prickled. It was more than a sense of being watched; something was observing them, measuring their worthiness against some unseen criteria. Her fingers twitched with a nervous energy, itching to grab something, anything, to defend herself against whatever lurked in the corners of her vision.

A sharp sound broke her from her reverie. Isn't this exciting, Merlina? A fresh start for us all. Just think of the memories we'll make here.

Her mother's false cheer grated on her nerves. It's... something. She couldn't bring herself to offer enthusiasm, couldn't lie. This wasn't a fresh start; it was an unsettling descent into a maelstrom of shadows and despair.

Her mother's smile wavered. Come now, darling. We're all in this together. We'll make the best of it, I promise. Her grip on Merlina's shoulder tightened, a desperate attempt to maintain the illusion of optimism.

Merlina sighed. Doubt wormed through her, but she forced a smile of her own. You're right, Mom. It's a fresh start, she replied, the words bitter on her tongue. But even as she spoke them, an undeniable shiver wormed down her spine. Their new beginning was a discordant note in their lives, and in the depths of her soul, she suspected things were only going to get darker.

Determined to be an explorer, not a victim, Merlina broke away. A flash of color caught her eye, drawing her into a room shrouded in twilight. Dust motes danced in the last rays of sunlight, illuminating a scene frozen in time.

Velvet settees with claw feet clustered around a mahogany table, bearing a chipped china tea set that gleamed as if awaiting some long-forgotten social call. Tattered lace curtains framed a window seat, looking out over the desolate yard. Time had ravaged the room, yet something about it resonated with a strange sense of homecoming.

But it was the photograph, tarnished silver frame resting amidst the dusty bric-a-brac, that brought her world to a standstill. The figure staring back at her was hauntingly beautiful, her lips curled in a smile that wasn't quite joyful, but more akin to a predator baring its teeth. Yet, it wasn't the unsettling smile that held Merlina captive; it was the locket adorning her throat. A heavy, heart-shaped locket... identical to the one Merlina wore tucked beneath her shirt, the only keepsake from a grandmother she'd never met.

Clarissa, she breathed, her finger tracing the name engraved on the back. A chill chased down her spine. She knew this face, not from memory, but from some deep ancestral well within her. Goosebumps rose on her arms, the air prickling with an unseen presence.

Her pulse quickened as another realization hit her: the locket. It wasn't just a family heirloom; it was a key, a tangible connection between her and this enigmatic woman bound to the house. Could Clarissa's spirit be trapped within these walls?

A noise echoed from the hallway, sharp and sudden, snapping her out of her trance. Instinctively, Merlina ducked behind a tattered armchair, her heart racing. Her mother's footsteps retreated, followed by the rhythmic thump