Witch: A Horror Novel (The Cursed Manuscripts) by Iain Wright (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

dress. The two children were running around, chasing one another outside a lovely old house. In fact…

What the hell?

…it was a farmhouse not unlike the one Ashley had visited today. It was enough of a coincidence that she reached for the escape key, but before she could close the window, the two children turned to the camera and let out an ear-piercing scream. The camera zoomed in on their faces, and all Ashley could see was their pained expressions. It was a shock, and she barely kept from tossing her laptop away and wailing in fright.

Instead, she fell into complete silence.

Her mouth fell open in horror as the children’s faces began to wither and rot before her eyes. Their skin burst open. Their cheeks melted away. Worms wriggled from their noses and mouths. Their eyeballs shrivelled away inside empty sockets.

I’m going to throw up.

Ashley slammed her laptop closed and tossed it onto the end of her bed. She wanted to scream out for her parents, but she knew they wouldn’t believe her. They would only lecture her for watching inappropriate films, and she didn’t want to hear any more of her dad’s ranting tonight.

She was alone with her terror.

I’m alone.

She slid beneath her bed sheets and wrapped herself up tightly. She stared up at the ceiling, too spooked to look anywhere else.

I’m going insane. I’m going insane. I’m going insane.

Chapter Seven

Jude’s tummy rumbled. Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly nine o’clock. With the drama of the evening, his mum had forgotten to cook. It wasn’t the first time, but at least this time she had a valid excuse.

He had been surfing the web on his laptop, considering whether or not to masturbate, but he decided he wanted food more. He slid his laptop under his bed and went downstairs. The lights were all off except for the lamps in the living room, and when he peeked in, he saw his mum spread out on the couch. A bottle of wine sat, empty, on the coffee table in front of her, and she was watching Judge Judy, murmuring to herself and chuckling. Commentating on television programmes was a habit of hers after a few glasses. Last month, they had sat and watched Wreck-It Ralph; he’d barely heard a word.

Not even sure who the villain was.

Jude continued into the kitchen and switched on the light, then went straight to the fridge. He rooted around, but there wasn’t much in. He scrounged a yoghurt and a lump of cheddar, which he cut into thin slices and put in a sandwich. Luckily, he wasn’t a big eater. He’d make up for it in the morning with a big bowl of cereal. He sat at the kitchen table and ate.

What a freaky day.

I hope Ashley’s okay. Her dad probably went schizo when she got home with a police escort.

Jude liked Ashley’s parents, but her dad could be a little scary when he was in a bad mood. He shouted a lot and stomped around the house. Ashley’s mum was always nice, though. She had used to be good friends with his own mum, but they had fallen out about something three or four years ago. Neither would say what about.

The cheese in his sandwich was hard, which he hated – the taste too strong – but he kept eating because he didn’t want to go to bed with an empty stomach. Most nights, he watched TV or played a video game until around midnight, but right now he could barely keep his eyes open. He didn’t think he’d make it past ten. Of course, there was a good chance he would lie awake all night, worrying about the trouble he was in. PC Riaz had said he intended to speak with him and Ashley again tomorrow.

He said we were wasting police time.

But we weren’t lying. The woman was real. She needed help.

She needed our help, and we left her.

Jude finished two-thirds of his sandwich and paused. He leant over the table and spat out the contents of his mouth. Grimacing, he decided the cheese was too hard and tangy for him to bear, so he opened the bin and slid the remains off his plate. Then he grabbed a spoon from the cutlery drawer, gobbled the yoghurt, and poured himself a small glass of water. Finished, he headed back out into the hallway, where he heard his mum speaking a little louder than before. He looked in again and saw her on the phone. She was likely talking to one of her girlfriends, of which she had many. Unlike Jude, his mum was a social butterfly.

“He’s going to be the death of me, that boy,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with his head. Naked women chained up in the woods? I mean, can you imagine how embarrassing it was, standing there in front of a police officer while my son goes on about witchcraft and naked ladies? You’re right, Val, absolutely. Maybe I do need to take him to see a doctor.”

Jude’s tummy sloshed with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. It was wrong to eavesdrop, and truthfully he didn’t want to hear any more, so he hurried back upstairs. Ashley would have kicked off if she’d caught her parents talking about her like that, but once again he was inadequate in his response. Instead of getting angry, all he felt was loneliness. His own mother thought he was nuts. Either that or a liar. He didn’t know which was worse. Lying wasn’t something he did, yet, somehow, everybody was doubting him. It wasn’t fair.

He felt himself getting anxious and didn’t want to go to bed all het up, so he decided to run himself a hot bath. It was something he often did to calm down. Hot water never failed to soothe him.

The drab grey bathroom sorely needed a refit and had for a while. The bath panel was missing, exposing the pipework beneath, and the