My cousin has been working really hard at writing the beginnings of a novel. I’ve read as much as he has written and it’s really good!!! I thought I’d try and get it out a little more and show you guys. You can find part one here! Let me know what you think of the book by commenting on this post, or by emailing me at email@example.com
It’s like a thriller, a psychological thriller and it’s so gripping. I read the first chapter a while ago and straight away I bugged him for part 2! He has written part 2. And even part 3 is on its way!! So give this a read, let me know your thoughts. And soon enough, I will post Part 2.
“My Short story, The Sirens Vacancy, is a thriller novel set in the 1800s. It is a story about a young man who is travelling through a fierce storm in the middle of nowhere and comes across a horrible old house. The inhabitants invite him in and draw him into a sinister plot to drain him and turn him into one of poor lost souls drifting through the house. It is a fast paced and frightening story but with a dark comedic twist. For ages 16+”
So here it is;
The Sirens Vacancy
By Adam Hughes
A violent storm was raging across the fields of the Suffolk countryside, circa 1886, which blew harsh winds and rain and devastated the usually pretty skyline with thick black cloud. A-mid the storm and wild weather, a pony and trap could be seen traveling alone along the road battered repeatedly by the harsh storm. Sat atop the carriage, covered in a cloak and soaked to the bone, was a young man, his fingers rigid with cold on the reins, his face screwed up against the harsh driving rain.
He had clearly been traveling for hours, battling his way through the storm to reach his destination which seemed, as he continued to battle his way through the storm, like an impossible task.
Just as he was beginning to despair of finding any kind of shelter for the night, he saw ahead of him looming out of the darkness, a large old building. It was standing quite alone on the side of the road the only building for miles. If it weren’t for a few lights flickering in the upstairs windows he would of thought the place was derelict. Large weeds creeped up the walls and snaked their way up through cracks in the walls. The windows were large and imposing and looked as though they had been stuck on at odd angles. They were cracked and stained with filth and grime, and the curtains, which were drawn, were coated in slime and crawling with strange creepy crawlies.
A small rickety set of stairs led to a large old front door and a wooden sign at the front said “Rooms to rent” in large black letters.
The whole place had an air of decay. It was the last place in the world that anyone would want to stay. The young man stared up at the large old house, a mix of fear and curiosity spreading through him. He knew that it would be hours before he found anywhere else.
He jumped down and landed with splash onto the muddy path, then began to walk up the slope towards the horrible old house. He approached the door and gave three loud knocks. For a few moments he was stood getting more and more drenched until he heard, very faintly then getting louder and louder, someone shuffling towards the door. The sound was oddly distorted as though the person was having trouble walking. Then with a lot of clicking of locks and sliding of chains, the door creaked open and the man, shivering slightly, entered the house.
He walked into a cavernous room, which was lit by many candles dotted around on large stands lined around the walls. A cracked a broken chandelier was dangling from the ceiling covered in cobwebs which extended out to the dark oak walls. A large old staircase stood in the middle of the room that led to the rooms above, the banisters were cracked and broken in places. The sheers size of the room was frightening and glamorous at the same time. The cavernous arches seemed to loom over them as though they were giant birds of prey. Indeed, this place horrified and impressed the traveller in a way he couldn’t explain to himself. The man who answered the door moved forward suddenly into the light, his face thrown into sharp relief. He had large mismatched eyes which stared in opposite directions, and a long beard and hair that reached the floor and was matted with filth. His teeth were yellow and disgusting and stuck out at odd angles. He was extremely thin with a gaunt and ghostly white face. He carried a knobbly walking stick, which explained the odd sounds as he walked.
He extended a gnarled hand ‘m’names the guvnor’ he said in a raspy voice ‘awful night, you ‘ere to stay’. The man looked around ‘yes, I am travelling North, in the hope of finding work, my name is Thomas Holmes’. The storm outside blew against the walls of the old house and shook the walls, the man named Thomas Holmes shivered slightly. ‘I am unable to travel any further this night’.
The Guvnor stared at him with an almost hungry expression in his eyes ‘We ‘ave room ‘ere sir, stay a few nights, rest a while’ he said ‘my associates will get your things from outside’. He stumped over to a corner and pulled on a rope which was dangling above it. From above a bell clanged loudly then a door in the corner opened and two extremely tall men walked in in both in identical black cloaks and hats, their sunken eyes staring straight ahead of them. ‘Get this, Mr Holmes’ luggage from outside’ the Guvnor said, pointing one of his long grotesque fingers at the door. Both the men nodded wordlessly and slumped out of the house and into the storm. ‘They will bring your luggage sir, come this way, I will show you to your room’ he beckoned and Thomas followed, feeling again slightly apprehensive but curious at the same time.
Together they climbed the crooked staircase up into the house itself. They walked up a winding corridor lined with candles and doors leading off to different rooms. They climbed up more stairs and walked along corridors lined with candles. After what seemed like hours, they finally emerged onto a landing with just three doors leading off it.
He reached a hand into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a long slightly crooked key, which he stuffed into the lock of one of the rooms and turned it. The door creaked open and they walked into a dimly lit room, lit by a collection of candles on a table in the middle of the room. There was a large old bed in the corner next to a small window which was boarded up. A large cracked mirror hung over the wall on the other side. The windows and walls shook violently from the storm outside. Thomas walked over the sat down on the bed and looked around at his surroundings.
‘Everything to your likin’ sir?’ said the Guvnor, one of his mismatched eyes staring hungrily at him. Thomas looked at him, and nodded, ‘yes, this shall work for the evening, thank you, how much for the night?’ The Guvnor smiled again ‘oh you don’t ‘ave to worry about pay sir, I am sure we shall come to arrangement in the morning’.
Thomas nodded ‘well if you are sure? I would be ever so grateful, thank you’. The Guvnor turned and shuffled out of the room, closing the door as he did so. Thomas leaned over and lit a candle on the bedside table, the light flickered oddly throwing eerie shadows across the walls. Although the house was derelict and disgusting, there was something about the place that was fascinating. There was something oddly magical about this house and its bizarre inhabitants.
Thomas lay down and tried to get himself comfy on the bed. As the light of the candle started to flicker and die out and storm still raged against the walls of the house, his eyes became heavy and he slowly fell into a fitful sleep.
Suddenly from somewhere deep within the house, came a terrible, heart wrenching scream that could not be heard over the sounds of the storm, but would chill the hearts of any human being who heard it. The screaming died almost as suddenly as it had started, leaving a horrible ringing silence in its wake, and as the storm continued well into the night not a single living thing was aware that something very horrible was happening indeed.