Authors: Anthony Price
The House of Wood
The House of
Wood
Copyright © 2013 by Anthony Price
Photography: Sikth
Artwork: Crooked Cat
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or
Crooked Cat Publishing except for brief quotations used for
promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Printed by Crooked Cat Publishing at
Smashwords
First Black Line Edition, Crooked Cat Publishing Ltd.
2013
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Contact Information:
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About the Author
Anthony Price is a twenty-eight year old
male residing in the UK, in Canterbury.
An avid reader and film fanatic, he was
first published at age fifteen and since achieving his MA in
Creative Writing, has had several short stories published in
e-zines and anthologies. He’s also the author of his own
horror anthology titled, Tales of Merryville, which is available to
buy in e-book format on Amazon.
He’s currently working on several creative
projects to look out for in the future, including more young adult
novels, a feature film and a TV show.
Acknowledgements
Firstly, I’d like to thank my editor
Laurence Patterson and Crooked Cat Publishing for not only
believing in me as a writer, but for having as much faith in this
book as I do.
I’d also like to thank Carl Muddiman for
sacrificing his hands taking my superfast dictation. I’ll make sure
that I go slower next time.
A big thank you has to go to my granddad,
without whose love and support I never would have achieved my MA in
Creative Writing, which sowed the seeds for this novel.
And to my sister, Stacey, whose opinion I’ll
always seek out first when it comes to editing.
But the biggest thank you has to go to my
parents who raised me to think big and to never let any obstacle
stand in my way. Without your love, I wouldn’t be around today.
Finally, thank you to everyone that buys
this book. Without you, I wouldn’t have a job.
Anthony Price
Canterbury 2013
The House of
Wood
Prologue
Silent it stood. The house of
wood on the hill. Nothing surrounding it but fields. A vast, open
expanse stretching as far as the eye could see. Ancient woodlands
dotted the fields like pox marks. But, the house stood like a
solitary statue, alone and foreboding. Its whitewashed wood shone
out on the stark landscape like a beacon of despair. The only
decoration was a single, dead oak tree in the front garden. A
child’s swing hung limply from a lifeless branch. No one lived
there anymore. They hadn’t for years. Without love and care the
building had fallen into disrepair. Now, only the blackbirds were
brave enough to land nearby. Usually, nothing stirred, except the
swing blowing in the cold breeze. But not today. Two shadows danced
across the window.
“Why are you doing this to
me?”
“Come on, it’s fun.”
“Please, I can help you. Just
let me go.”
“I don’t need help,” the
standing shadow snarled. Its hand whipped out, landing with a sharp
snap across the face of the battered and bruised victim tied to the
chair. “No one can help me.”
The victim stared at the
attacker. There was no way out. The rope bit the flesh of their
wrists as they tried to twist free. Pain filled them. Tears welled
in their eyes.
“Awww, poor baby. Here, let me
wipe your eyes.” A piercing scream filled the night air, as fingers
jammed in to the sockets. “All better now?”
“I just want to go home,” the
victim sobbed, all hope evaporating. “Please, let me go.”
“You’re not leaving me. You’re
never
leaving me.” A perverse smile
stretched across the attacker’s face. “We’re meant to be, you know
that, sugar pie.”
“I-I-I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
“But you love me. You always
have.”
“No I don’t, you’re deluded and
you need help.”
“There you go again, denying
your feelings. Well I know how to cure that.”
The attacker’s shadow slid
across the living room floor, stopping at the open fireplace.
Flames swayed like Egyptian belly dancers, hypnotic and seductive.
The face of McCain in the portrait over the mantel stared out.
“What’re you doing? Look,
someone will come up here and stop you. Let me go now and you can
escape, I won’t send the police.”
“Now, now sugar pie, I got a
surprise for you.” The attacker turned towards the victim. “You’ll
like this.”
A petrified scream filled the
night air. A young girl stood silently by her swing, watching the
couple, a dark red stain across her beautiful white dress. She
turned away, her expressionless face looking out over the desolate
hillside. She sat down on her swing, and listened to the agonising
screams emerging from the house.
Chapter
One
Sunlight shone down through the
narrow windows of the lecture theatre, and dust mites twinkled like
stars as they carried out their playful dance around the room. All
that could be heard was the monotonous droning of the professor and
the occasional yawn from a student. Sullen faces dotted the seating
area, some chewing gum, others slowly drooping in to slumber. The
ticking of the clock seemed louder and more ominous in the
cavernous room. It was typical for a Friday afternoon lecture.
Rachel James’ pen scratched
away at her notepad, trying to keep up with the professor who was
speaking at a million kilometres an hour. She had to get these
notes down if she ever wanted to pass her mid-terms. So far she was
flunking. A failure on this next test would spell her doom. She’d
be out. And that meant going home.
“Okay class,” the professor
said, leaning across the front of his desk. “I know how you all
love exams, so I’m going to set you a pop quiz for next
Tuesday.”
A chorus of groans erupted from
the students, all of them knowing that their weekend plans were now
dashed. Not that it bothered Rachel. She didn’t have any. There was
hardly ever a weekend that went by where she did. She wasn’t a
drink-until-you-puke kind of girl.
“I know, I know, I’ve heard it
all before.”
The bell rang out above
Rachel’s head, making her jump.
“Okay, that’s it for today.
Read chapters fifteen through twenty for the test next week.” The
professor gave them a sinister smile. He was enjoying himself.
“Have fun this weekend.”
Rachel finished scribbling down
the last notes. It was as if she were invisible; people just walked
past her without paying any attention, or even acknowledging her
existence. Every now and then, someone would swing around too
sharply and bash her in the head with a rucksack. She may as well
have been a ghost.
She slung her things in to her
own bag and stood up to leave. All she wanted to do was get out of
the stuffy room and get back to her dorm.
“Rachel,” the professor called
from behind his desk. “Can you come here for a second?”
Great, that’s
all I need
, she thought. She threw her bag over her shoulder
and walked down the steps towards the front of the class. The
professor ignored her for several moments while he tidied up his
desk.
“You do know you’re failing,
don’t you Rachel?” he asked, without looking up.
“Yes.”
“And you do know that you need
to pass this next exam, in order to remain on my course?”
“Yes, professor.” She knew what
was coming. This wasn’t the first time.
He stopped and looked at her.
His eyes roved over her, undressing her in his mind. He licked his
hand and greased back his grey hair. “I can guarantee you that A
if...”
Rachel didn’t know what to say.
Even though this moment had been building up for a while, a look
here, a comment there, it had still taken her by surprise. She
watched him as he stepped closer. Her blood was beginning to boil.
Why do men think they can intimidate women like this? She
fumed.
“What?”
She leaned in, licking her lips
and fluttering her eyelids.
“I could make life so easy for
you. Come on, tell me what you think?”
“I think,” she said, “That
you’re a dirty old man, who has tried this far too often.”
A loud crack echoed around the
room, as her hand swung out and slapped him in the face, leaving a
large red hand print on a stunned cheek. He staggered back a
step.
“How dare you think you can
intimidate me,” she screamed at him. “It’s men like you that make
women feel as though it’s not safe for them to go out at night. You
disgusting little pervert.”
“Y-y-you can’t hit a teacher.
I’ll have you thrown out.”
“I couldn’t give a damn what
you do.” She leaned in close to his face, fire burning in her eyes.
“And I will be getting that A.”
With that she left, slamming
the heavy double doors behind her. She learned a long time ago to
not let anybody get the better of her. She’d been through too much
in her life already. The last thing she was going to do was bow
down to some old has-been.
She strolled across the quad,
dodging footballs and Frisbees flying through the unseasonably warm
October air, as throngs of people enjoyed the brilliant sunshine.
There were far too many for her liking.
Tucking her books under her
arm, she checked the time on her watch. She was going to be late
getting to the campus library. It wasn't far from the lecture
theatre, but the time she spent walking there was time wasted. She
should have been heading back to her dorm to study, instead of
meeting a friend. The words of her professor echoed in her ears.
There was no way on God’s earth she could afford to get kicked out
of college. She wasn’t going to end up back home.
Her steps quickened, as the sun
dipped behind white clouds. She kept her eyes fixed to the floor,
avoiding eye contact with anybody. At times she wished she could
just disappear. Rachel hated being around crowds; the mass of
students on the quad was like her worst nightmare. In a way though,
she felt jealous. She didn’t have lots of friends to just hang out
with in the sun, or go partying with every weekend. Except for a
couple of the girls in her dorm, there was no one. She couldn’t
connect with people anymore. She was too afraid of what they might
do to her.
It didn’t take her as long as
she thought it would to reach the library. It was a tall building
that loomed large over the surrounding area, casting long shadows
across the street. The sides of it were surrounded by huge glass
windows that reflected during the day, but allowed curious eyes to
look in after dark. It featured a café; two garden terraces, one
with views over the city; and an atrium. The long, winding
staircase coiled its way upwards like a snake in the centre of the
lobby. Students dashed to and fro across wide bridges connecting
the never ending lines of dusty books, hurrying to meet their
deadlines. There was hardly ever anyone up top, which is why she
didn’t mind it. She knew her friend would be up there.
As she reached the top step, a
short blonde girl came bouncing towards her.
“Hey, I wondered where you got
to,” Becky Sawyer said, “It wasn’t that sleaze-ball Professor
Hoganstein holding you up again was it?”
“As a matter of fact it
was.”
“Oh my God, what’re you going
to do about it?”
“Nothing. There isn’t a lot I
can do.”
Becky looked at her sternly.
“Of course there is. For starters, you can go to the cops and
report him. You could get him fired. It’s no more than he
deserves.”
Rachel knew she was right.
Becky was always right. This was at least the second time he had
tried it on with a student. Last time, the girl ended up leaving
and he got away with it. Some even said she was pregnant.
“What can I do? The police
won’t do anything without me being able to prove it beyond
reasonable doubt and the College Board will be the same. They'll
interview him, but he'll just lie and make it worse for me.”
“Surely it's worth a shot?”
“No, I think it’ll be best if I
just leave it. I need to concentrate on my studies. Something like
that will be distracting and I can do without it. Men like him
always come out on top. It's the way of the world.”