By Robin Alexander Eadon
Chapter Two
Rock Dexter heard the loud bang and felt the front driver’s side of the car suddenly dip and pull sharply over to the right.
He fought fiercely with the steering wheel and braked lightly trying desperately to keep the car on the narrow country lane.
The flat tyre hit the wide grass verge and the steering wheel was snatched from his grasp and spun in his hands.
Olive Fox screamed out loudly and clamped her hands over her face in an attempt to protect herself.
The front of the red Porsche 924 slammed into the densely packed hedgerow, smashing a headlight and crunching in the wheel arch until it brushed up against the punctured tyre.
Their seatbelts snapped tight and pulled them both up sharply in their seats. The growling engine stalled and Rock blurted out, “Bugger!”
Then he was shoving at the driver’s door and climbing out from the car and examining the damage.
He kicked out disgustedly at the flat tyre and uttered, “We’re not going anywhere in a hurry in this!”
Olive Fox finally opened her eyes and then she leaned across the driver’s seat and asked, “What are we going to do?”
Rock shook his head and replied, “Bloody well walk!”
Rock lifted out his canvas black bag from the car’s storage compartment and Olive’s own cream coloured bag. He handed it to her and together they walked along the hedgerow surrounded lane.
They seemed to have walked for a few miles without spotting a single building or an approaching car.
Rock Dexter looked down at his diver’s watch and saw that it was already gone five O’clock and was beginning to lose light fast.
Soon after they came upon a road sign with just one direction written upon it. It read – Sheffwell 8 Miles
Olive let out a groan and said, “I can’t walk another eight miles, my feet are killing me!”
“Well there’s no choice but to press on a bit further,” said Rock. “We must surely come across a farmhouse or something soon?”
Olive Fox let out another moan and they carried on along the winding lane. After a few twist and turns Rock spotted what appeared to be a gravelled driveway with two tall stone gateposts on either side. There were two tall and black painted wrought iron gates hung from them, rust eating into them both.
Rock approached the gates and tried to open them, hoping that they were not locked up tight.
With a grinding sound one of the gates pushed inwards and Rock stepped through it and then turned and said, “Let’s go and see if we can get some help here and hopefully find a phone?”
They walked up the gravel drive and rounded a tight bend and entered a dense treeline.
The driveway was long and finally Rock saw the large and imposing building looming up in front of them.
“I don’t like the look of it!” said Olive Fox with a shiver.
“Don’t be silly, it’s just an old house.” Rock strode on.
“Rock I mean it,” pleaded Olive. “There’s just something about it that spooks me. It just feels … wrong!”
By now Rock was standing in front of the double front doors and searching out a doorbell of some kind. He soon discovered that it was a pull out doorbell and he tugged at it firmly.
A bell could be heard ringing out in the distance. The daylight was dimming further and plunging the front of the house into a mass of mysterious shadows.
They both waited and when there was no response to the ringing of the bell, Rock pulled out the doorbell knob a number of times, ringing out the bell repeatedly within the house.
After what seemed like an age, they finally heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
Olive Fox felt a cold shiver run down her spine and willed the double front doors not to open.
But the left hand door did open with a groaning creak of unoiled hinges. They were greeted with the sight of a young and rather attractive woman, dressed in a green coloured skirt suit.
The woman did not smile, as her green tinted eyes watched them both.
Rock Dexter spoke firmly and precisely, “We’ve had a slight accident with our car and I was hoping to use your telephone.”
The blonde-haired woman continued to watch them both, her eyes almost afire with something unspeakable.
Olive Fox turned away in disgust and fear.
Rock simply stood still and repeated his earlier statement.
The blonde woman let out a soft gasp and then she simply stopped and returned her hand to her side.
Then she spoke, “We have no telephone here. You must leave now.” And with that she began to close the front door.
Rock immediately plunged into action and grabbed firm hold of the edge of the closing door, halting its progress.
“Is there another house close by?” asked Rock a little too firmly.
The woman simply replied, “No.”
She then began to try and pull the heavy door towards her and just then there was a man’s voice echoing along the hall behind her.
“Who is it, my dear, Desiree?” the master enquired.
Desiree de Champe did not reply. Instead she stepped from the door and began to walk quickly along the hall and out of sight of Rock Dexter.
The tall bearded man gave a half smile and said, “What is the trouble, maybe I can help?”
Rock Dexter began to explain once more.
Marcus de Champe invited them both in and as Olive Fox stepped into the hallway her nose wrinkled at a strange smell that seemed somehow familiar.
As they followed behind the tall man along the hall, she suddenly realised just what that peculiar smell was; it was the scent of horrors yet to come!
He led them through into a dark wood panelled room and walked over to the large bay window. He looked out from it and seemed to study something for a time. Finally he turned his attention towards them both.
“Let me introduce myself. I am Marcus de Champe, the master of this house and you have already met my sister, Desiree.”
He seemed to then positively glare at them both with something like hatred, before adding, “I am afraid that we don’t possess a telephone here. We have no use for such an instrument.” He then paused for what seemed a long time and then continued. “But we can offer you food and a warm bed for the night.”
Neither of them liked the look which gleamed in the man’s cruel eyes.
Even Rock Dexter was taken aback by the man’s sheer bluntness and his extremely rude manner.
Dexter merely gave the man a slight nod of his head.
Olive Fox was afraid. Afraid of this man and this house and also the strange woman.
“Now come, you must be famished. Let us go to the dining room and await the delights which it affords us.
Almost reluctantly they followed the tall bearded and imposing man.
Click here to buy the book from Barnes and Noble
Author Bio:
Robin Alexander Eadon writes from the shifting border between reality and nightmare, where truth hides in shadow and every whisper carries a warning. Little is known of the places that inspire these tales—only that they are real enough to haunt the author’s dreams. Eadon’s stories slip through the cracks of the ordinary, revealing glimpses of something ancient, patient, and watching. Readers are drawn in by an unseen hand, compelled to turn the page though they know it leads deeper into the dark. Once you enter Eadon’s world, you may never find your way back.
Contact Author:
Email: raeadon@hotmail.com
