The Haunting of Bellington Cottage

By Laura Parnum

From the author of Peril at Price Manor comes a new spooky and bighearted stand-alone novel about two girls trying to figure out if they’re still friends who discover their vacation rental home is haunted.

It was the perfect winter break getaway . . . until the ghost showed up.

The last time Iris's and Violet’s families went on a trip together, the girls turned their rental home into an epic haunted house—and Iris has brought all her spookiest supplies to the cottage they’re calling home for the next week, ready to re-create the magic they’d shared. But in the years since, Vee (don’t call her Violet) has become closed off and short-tempered and wants nothing to do with anyone, especially not her mom’s new boyfriend.

Vee’s bad mood feels inescapable in the cottage. And soon strange things are happening that make it seem like the house itself is angry, too—doors are slamming, rooms that were perfectly neat a second ago are suddenly a disaster, and Iris hears pacing footsteps long after everyone’s gone to sleep. Iris and Vee soon discover that the cottage has a secret history and that there’s no need to stage a haunted house after all . . . because they’re already in one.

• Perfect for Halloween reading
• Features light scares
• A charming cozy seasonal pick

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: Jul 29, 2025
• ISBN: 9780063249615

Laura Parnum

Laura Parnum writes stories that blend humor and heart with a touch of horror. When she’s not writing, she’s editing other people’s stories and helping out at the local elementary school library. She currently serves as co-regional advisor for the Eastern Pennsylvania region of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Laura lives with her family in Philadelphia. They have a turtle that bites and a snake that doesn’t.

Book preview

Cover image: The Haunting of Bellington Cottage by Laura Parnum.Title page: The Haunting of Bellington Cottage by Laura Parnum. Published by Storytide.

Dedication

For Hannah and Cape May

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Books by Laura Parnum

Copyright

About the Publisher

Landmarks

Cover

Contents

1

1

Bellington Cottage was the perfect place to create a haunted house. Dark. Secluded. Mossy. Its outside walls were made up of rough, aged stone that probably housed all kinds of critters for the winter, like spiders and mice. Maybe even bats. The chimney of the towering three-story house poked through the snow-covered roof like a gravestone, and the starkly painted red door was the only shock of color among the skeletal trees and white landscape. It was like something straight out of an old horror movie but with a freshly plowed driveway, thanks to the rental management company.

Iris darted out of the car and raced across the snow to get a better look.

Don’t you want your coat? her mom called after her.

Nah. I’m good.

Iris welcomed the cold fresh air after being cooped up in the back seat of their stuffy station wagon for most of the day. She stretched as high as the purple cast covering her left arm allowed, while the icy wind whipped through her hair and clothes and chilled her flesh.

This is going to be amazing!

As the wind swept across the yard, an old-fashioned swing made from two ropes and a plank of wood whirled about under a humongous elm tree near the front of the house. Iris pulled out her phone and took a picture of the whole spooky scene. Then she crunched across the yard, delighting in making the first footprints over the clean blanket of snow. When she got to the swing, she caught hold of it and brushed the ice and snow off with her good arm. The seat was painted the same menacing dark red as the cottage door. She sat down on the cold, smooth plank and gazed up at the two top windows of the house.

I call the third floor for me and Violet! she shouted.

When Iris had broken her elbow a few weeks ago, the prospect of this ski trip to Vermont had turned from epically awesome to monumentally miserable. Think torture by boredom. That was until she found out Violet would be coming along. Hilarious, creative Violet, who reveled in spooky things just as much as Iris did. It had been three long years since Iris’s and Violet’s moms—old college friends—had gotten their families together for a weeklong vacation in Cape May, New Jersey. But with Violet living all the way down in Florida, they hadn’t seen each other since.

That’s fine, kiddo. Now, let’s go inside before you catch pneumonia. Her mom blew warm air into her cupped hands before lugging her suitcase from the car to the front porch.

The wind howled eerily through the trees, and the branches creaked and moaned—a perfect sound effect for a haunted house. Iris opened the voice memo app on her phone. She tapped the record button and held it up to capture the eerie sounds. Almost as if on cue, a crow flew overhead, cawing loudly. Violet would love that. She had a thing for crows.

When Iris had about a minute of spooky sounds recorded and the seat of her jeans was beginning to feel cold and soggy, she hopped off the swing and jogged toward the cottage, eager to see inside. Maybe there’d be candelabras covered with spiderwebs, secret passageways hidden behind bookcases, and gloomy portraits of somber old people with eyes that followed you around the room.

Watch out for ice, her mom called from the front porch. You don’t want to fall and hurt yourself again.

Iris jolted to a halt. A phantom pain shot through her arm at the memory of her fall. The terrible snap of her elbow and the circle of horrified faces staring down at her as she lay on the ground at recess. It had happened only a few weeks ago, right after her best friend, Delia, moved to New York. With Delia gone, Iris had attempted to make new friends with a group of kids who were doing tricks and flips off the monkey bars. Iris learned right away that she was not a tricks-and-flips type of girl.

The new friends thing obviously hadn’t worked out. The pain had been excruciating—and not just in her arm.

The bright red door of the cottage was even more ominous-looking up close with its long, black hinges stretching like spider legs across the wood. The whole cottage had an old-fashioned Grimms’ fairy-tale kind of look. Well, except for the fancy new keypad device affixed to the front door.

Iris’s dad thumbed over his phone. Hang on, everyone. I’m trying to find the code the owners sent me on the Rent-A-Bode app. Ah, here we go. He tapped a few numbers into the keypad and pushed the door open. And . . . voilà! We’re in!

Her mom stepped inside first and let out an earsplitting shriek. A huge taxidermied owl with wings outstretched and talons splayed apart hung directly inside the dark entryway as if swooping down on unwanted visitors.

Not cool, she said, placing her hand against her heart as if she’d just had a heart attack.

But Iris examined the owl with interest. Whoever had stuffed it had added a third glass eye, yellow with a large black pupil, centered on its forehead above its two normal eyes.

That. Is. Awesome!

‘Awesome’ isn’t quite the word I’d use, her mom said.

Iris kicked off her boots and breezed past the three-eyed owl. She flicked on the light switch. Whoa, they’re everywhere!

Mounted, stuffed creatures of varying sizes, all with added embellishments—extra tails, eyes, claws, and fangs—were artfully arranged on stands made of lobbed-off tree branches complete with lacquered pine cones, berries, and other woodsy things. They perched on almost every surface of the living room. There were tiny chipmunks holding acorns in spare limbs, squirrels and foxes with double or triple tails, plus a raccoon with beady red eyes and an opossum with multiple rows of sharpened teeth. Iris circled the room with glee, examining each modified beast.

I love this place!

Her mom frowned. They didn’t mention any of this in the Rent-A-Bode listing.

Her dad checked the app. Almost every other place was booked when I was searching. This one popped up as a new listing, so there weren’t any reviews. Maybe this was what the owners meant by ‘playful and whimsical decor.’ It certainly is interesting.

Iris twirled around. I can’t wait to turn this place into a haunted house! It’s going to be way scarier than the one we did in Cape May.

I can’t wait either, her dad said. If it’s anything like the one you girls did last time, it’ll be terrifying!

Her mom came up behind them and shivered, whether from the cold or from the abundance of weird furry corpses, Iris couldn’t be sure. A lot of this furniture looks antique. I’m surprised the owners are renting it out with all this stuff.

Iris circled the room, inspecting everything—an old gramophone with one of those giant funnel-shaped speakers, a rolltop desk with a million little drawers and compartments, a wooden clock with tarnished metal hands that no longer told the time.

In fact, her mom continued, let’s keep the haunted house contained to your bedrooms this time. You girls were all over that last rental, and we don’t want to risk any of this stuff getting messed up. I know you’re older now, but last time we had to pay extra to replace some damaged items. A lampshade, I think, and a broken vase.

Her dad moved the suitcases inside from the porch. Mom’s right. I’m sure your haunted house will be amazing, but we don’t want to be blacklisted on the Rent-A-Bode app. We’d never be able to go on vacation again!

Iris rolled her eyes. As long as Violet’s coming, I don’t really care where we set it up. And we’ll be super careful this time. This haunted house is going to be epic!

Iris scanned the rest of the living room and the dining area. No candelabras and no spiderwebs, and the pictures on the wall were mostly watercolor paintings of woodsy scenery instead of creepy portraits. But secret passageways were still a possibility. She and Violet could look for them together.

Do you think they’ll be here soon?

Violet, her mom, and her mom’s new boyfriend were arriving by plane and then renting a car for the two-hour drive from the airport. Iris was practically bursting with excitement to catch up with her old friend.

I’ll text Sheryl to find out their ETA. Iris’s mom pulled out her phone. No signal. I wonder where the Wi-Fi password is.

This place has Wi-Fi?

Of course! The cottage may be over a hundred years old, but it’s been completely modernized. Didn’t you read the description? They’ve got internet, streaming services, and all new kitchen appliances. The fridge even has filtered water and an ice maker.

Iris shrugged. Honestly, I was pretty focused on the hidden-house-in-the-woods factor.

She followed her parents into the very normal and boring-looking kitchen. There was a binder on the island countertop, and Iris opened it up. The first page read:

Welcome to Bellington Cottage

An old-fashioned guesthouse with modern amenities

Below that was a picture of the house as it must have looked in the summertime. Cheerful flower boxes on the outside of the windows held brightly colored pansies, and the surrounding forest was a lush, vibrant array of greens with a sparkling pond peeking out from behind the house. Now, in winter, it looked much more mysterious and gloomy. Thank goodness. She flipped quickly through the rest of the binder. There was a history of the house with some old black-and-white photos, a list of nearby attractions, and, finally, the rental property details.

Found the Wi-Fi!

See? What did I tell you?

Want to come pick up groceries with us in town? her dad asked.

And risk not seeing Violet the minute she gets here? No way!

All right, her mom said. Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself for a bit? With all those creepy dead animals in the living room?

I love those creepy dead animals! And anyway, they’re just a bunch of fur and stuffing.

I know, but—her mom wrinkled her nose—ick.

Her dad picked up the car keys. Call us if you need anything, okay?

Sure thing.

As her parents headed out the door, Iris pulled out her phone and entered the Wi-Fi password. As soon as it connected, there was a series of dings and pop-up notifications.

Text messages from Delia! She sat at the counter and pulled up the messages.

Delia: New cut

Delia: Whaddya think?

Iris’s jaw dropped. Delia’s once-long hair was cut to chin length and did this fancy little flip thing at the ends. Then came photos of Delia in different outfits.

Delia: SHOPPING SPREEEEEEE!!!!!

In one picture, Delia wore a pleated plaid skirt and knee-high boots, looking like one of the characters from her favorite manga books. In the next, she wore leopard-print leggings and a cropped top that showed her belly button. In the last one, she had on holey jeans and a black motorcycle jacket.

Delia: Jacket’s not mine—just borrowing it from my new friend Izzy!

Iris swiped at her screen to review the photos again. She hardly recognized Delia. It was like she’d transformed into some kind of model or movie star. They didn’t sell clothes like that in the mall near them, or at least not in any of the stores she’d ever been to. And there was something different about her face. She pinched open the photo to zoom in. Was Delia wearing makeup?

Iris scrolled back further through weeks of texts until she found the last picture of the two of them together. It was the day before Delia moved away. Iris had gone to her house to say goodbye, and Delia’s mom snapped a photo of them standing in the kitchen among the packing boxes and chaos. Their arms were wrapped tightly around each other, and their smiling faces were squished together for the photo. They wore matching gray hoodies with their middle school’s name and logo on the front, faded from so many washings, and they both had their long hair pulled back into sloppy ponytails. Iris hadn’t noticed how messy they’d looked in the picture at the time. She’d only been paying attention to their smiling faces. But now, compared to the photos of New York Delia, the difference was dramatic. She thumbed back to the new photos, trying to think of a reply, when another text came through.

Delia: Me and my new friend Izzy. Isn’t she soooo cool?

A picture popped up of Delia with her cheek smushed against another girl’s cheek.

The other girl was . . . gorgeous. Smooth olive skin, spiral curls, and thick, feathery eyelashes. Both girls’ lips were shiny with lip gloss and pursed in a duckface expression. Were they serious? Iris and Delia used to laugh about people who posed in duckface.

She scrolled back to the older photo of herself and Delia. Splotchy skin, messy hair, and the only notable thing about their eyelashes was the way they were clumped together from the tears they’d shed right before the photo was taken.

Iris clicked off her phone and set it face down on the countertop. How long would it be until Violet showed up? With her parents out, the cottage was so quiet. The only sound was the whistling of the wind through the trees outside. She picked at a loose piece of the cotton lining on the edge of her cast as she peered through the window at the frozen pond behind the cottage. A crow foraged on the ground near the pond’s edge, its black feathers a stark contrast to the white snow.

Suddenly a sly smile spread across Iris’s face. With no one in the house but her, she could take a little time to . . . prepare.

2

Iris grabbed her tote bag from the pile of luggage by the front door. She swung it over her good arm and headed up the stairs, not even bothering to stop on the second floor. The stairs creaked with each step she took—another great sound effect. But there’d be plenty of time