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

the small fabric sofa opposite. Jude felt like a naughty child waiting to speak with the headmaster.

“What do you lambies know about my family’s old farmhouse?” the old woman asked them in a voice that sounded like duelling whispers. “That place has been buried in the woods for half a century or more.”

“Or more,” said Jude. “You sold it in 1968.”

The old woman seemed to think about it before nodding. “I suppose I did. Glad to see the back of the old place, to tell the truth. It was a ruin long before I passed it on. The farming life never suited me.”

Standing near the door, Peter chuckled.

“You sold it to the council,” said Jude. “Why didn’t they knock it down when they built the golf course?”

“Never sold it to the council, lamby. Sold it to a real estate company. I remember it well because they had the stupidest name you ever heard. Zosimus Sphere. As far as I understand it, they still own the place. You shouldn’t go poking around in that old ditch, though. It’s a death trap. How did you even know the old house was out there?”

Ashley leant forward and placed her hands on her knees. “Because we went there. We went inside the old farmhouse to explore. It’s an overgrown ruin.”

The old woman flinched. Jude noticed it, even though she tried to hide it. She was unhappy that they’d visited the farmhouse. But why would she care if she hadn’t owned it in over half a century?

“There was somebody there,” said Jude, deciding they might as well get to the point. There was no reason to beat around the bush with all the trouble they were in. “A woman named Rose.”

This time the woman’s reaction was impossible for her to disguise. She bucked in her chair and started wheezing. Immediately, Peter ran to her side. He picked up a glass of water from the side table and put it to the old woman’s lips. “Grandma, are you okay?”

The old woman caught her breath and pushed her grandson out of the way. She looked through her spectacles at Jude and suddenly grew stern. She sat up in her recliner and stared them down. “Say that name to me again, lambies, so I’m sure I heard you right.”

Jude saw the comprehension in the old woman’s eyes. There was no memory loss or dementia there. She had the answers they sought; he was sure of it. He leant forward and returned the old woman’s stony glare. “There was a naked woman in your family’s old farmhouse. She was chained to the floor and surrounded by dead animals. She said her name was Rose.”

The old woman broke her stare and slumped back in her chair. “You lambies don’t know what you’ve done.” She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat like she was struggling to get comfortable. “But I suppose you’ve come to the right place. You can call me Rita. Rose is my sister-in-law.”

For a moment, Ashley didn’t react. She retreated into her own mind and tried to make sense of what she’d heard. Rita and Rose were sisters-in-law, but Rita was ninety-six years old and Rose was nowhere near that. In fact, Rose had looked to be in her mid-thirties.

“I don’t understand,” said Jude. “You and Rose are family?”

Rita asked Peter to leave the room, and he did so obediently. Once he’d gone, Rita sighed. “I try not to involve Peter with the darkness that eats up the past. He’s a good boy, pure of heart. Shame he’s never found a kind woman to settle down with.”

“Please,” said Jude. “We need to know about Rose. She’s… I’m not even sure how to say it.”

“Oh, I know exactly what Rose is, lamby. She’s a monster. If you two have had a run-in with her, I expect you already know that. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Jude deflated. Ashley saw the relief on his face. Finally, they were speaking to someone who didn’t think they were crazy.

Ashley asked, “Why was Rose chained up in your family’s old farmhouse?”

Rita shivered, shoulders bony and uneven. “Because I put her there. In times I can barely remember.”

Ashley raised an eyebrow. Rita didn’t look strong enough to put anybody in chains against their will. “You chained her up? Why?”

“Because she murdered my brother and his children. They were Rose’s children, too, as it goes, but she was never much of a mother.”

Jude shook his head. He clearly had a thousand questions, but none made it out of his mouth.

Rita pulled the knitted patchwork up so that it covered her stomach. She scratched at her fuzzy chin and muttered something to herself. Then she looked Ashley in the eye. “I chained Rose up in 1948, same year I left my family’s farm behind for good. I let nature reclaim it, and reclaim it nature did. You might say I helped the process along some.”

Ashley frowned. “What does that mean? You planted trees?”

“Something like that. Anyway, before I tell you what I did to Rose, I should first tell you what she did to me. Like I said, she killed my brother, my niece, and my nephew. They were sweet lambies, and my brother were a decent man. If he’d lived, that farm would still be in our family today. It were his birthright. Mine too, ’cept I never wanted it. Wanted it even less after what Rose done. I never liked her from the day he brought her home, that I swear. Within a year, she and my brother were married, and Rose got her greedy mitts on everything my family owned. My brother worked his poor ’ands to the bone, but Rose wanted more. Eventually, when she realised she couldn’t have it, she looked elsewhere, started seeing the town’s bank manager. Craven pig were as vainglorious as she was, and the two were far better suited than Rose and my brother ever were. Maybe if she’d met the bank manager first, the darkness