The Haunting of Claremont

By C. Allen

Rebecca's fiance Liam has a new job in the city, and the young couple must move into a low-budget flat in a dilapidated neighborhood. It's not the dream house they imagined, but it's well within their price range and a short distance from Rebecca's university.

Soon after they move in Rebecca begins to experience terrible nightmares, vivid hallucinations and frequent panic attacks. As she spirals deeper and deeper into what appears to be a physical and mental breakdown, putting her university career and relationship in jeopardy, she befriends the reclusive old woman next door who tells her chilling stories of the house's former occupants.

Is Rebecca going mad or is the dark history of 24 Claremont Street something that can't and won't be be ignored?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Allen
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223507093

Book preview

Prologue

Her hands shook and her stomach heaved as she lit the gas lamp. Fresh vomit filled the sink, casting the kitchenette in a putrid stench. She had noticed blood mingled with thick milky bile and some black lumpy tissue. She supposed it was part of her stomach lining. She knew she had to act soon—she had to escape this hell.

From the other room, the children began to sing. Her body shook and she collapsed to the floor, wracked with quiet sobs. She’d been watching her beautiful babies begin to rot, their pale little faces gaunt and glassy-eyed, like delicate flowers trampled again and again.

She heard her little Lottie giggle as the boys put on funny voices. Her poor little Lottie. The child’s hair had started to come out in clumps, but even in the depths of all this madness, she and the other innocents had managed to survive.

But they had to get out.

She pushed herself up from the floor, wiped her face and began rummaging through the kitchen drawers. He had taken all the knives. She needed to send him a message. He needed to know his game was over. Her eyes glanced down toward the skirting board, and in an instant she was scrambling on the floor and pulling at the teak wood. As she yanked the wood it began to splinter. Her fingernails snapped and throbbed, but with an almighty yank, the skirting finally came loose. And then she saw it. A nail.  A long, flat-tipped nail protruding from the broken wood. She pulled it free. Grasping it in a fist she raised it to the kitchen wall and began to scratch.

Children! she called, furiously dragging the nail against plaster. Children, come here!

The children shuffled in beside her. The boys gazed at her curiously and Lottie ran to her and clung to her skirts. She dropped the nail to the ground and knelt beside her little girl. She put her arms out and the boys ran to her. She clasped them all tightly.

Listen to me, children. We need to leave here tonight. There is only one way out and it may seem scary. I need you to be brave just as your papa was. Do you remember? Do you remember the day he went away?

They nodded.

You are my soldiers. Just do what I say and trust me. Your mama is going to look after you. Don’t be scared.

She stood, turned, and gazed out the cracked window above the kitchen sink. A framed picture of blackness greeted her. With a deep breath, she stepped forward, curled her hand into a fist and punched the right-hand corner of the windowpane. The crack splintered and began to widen. She wound up again and shattered the glass, tearing open the flesh on her hand. Blood spilled across the white floor tiles, and she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle a scream as one of the children tugged at her skirts.

What is it? she murmured, looking down at Lottie.

He’s here, she whispered. The bad man is here, Mummy.

As she turned, a shadowy silhouette leaned into the doorway holding a black leather bag.  Carefully placing it on the floor, he unzipped the bag and pulled free a long-handled silver knife. With a sinister grin, he stepped forward into the flickering lamplight.

And then the screaming began...

1.

I gazed up at swirling, slate-colored clouds through the rain-blotted glass of the bus-stop roof. With my thickest scarf wrapped tightly around my neck, I breathed in the autumn air. Although I was protected from the rain, the harsh gusts of wind hitting my face were rough and bracing. Thanks to several deep puddles I’d encountered on my way to the city center, my jeans were soaked, saturated to knee level, which left the skin beneath numb right down to my toes.

I snuggled closer to my fiancé Liam. He put his arm around me and squeezed me tight, as he stared at the looming shadows of Compass Bank’s regional headquarters, his current workplace. I grabbed his hand and gently leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. I knew he hated his job. He never complained about it, but anyone who spent countless hours taking abuse from angry customers—most of whom he agreed with but was forced to pacify with apologies and unfounded promises—was bound to crack sooner or later. And Liam was on the verge. It was soul-destroying to see him lose some of the spark he’d had when we first met, and I knew something had to change. For both of us.

What do you think? Should we take it? I asked quietly. I didn’t feel confident about the place but tried not to show Liam my misgivings.

Liam’s pale blue eyes met mine. It’s the best we’ve seen in our price range.

The modern flat was a million times better, I said.

Yes, it certainly was, but it’s a hundred pounds more a month, which I don’t think we can stretch to, especially with you out of work.

I forced a smile and did my best to regain focus. You’re right, it’s settled then. We need a place in the city because you’re starting a brilliant new job with ridiculously early shifts, and more important, you’re finally escaping Compass.

I’ll call the agent now and let him know, Liam said with a smile, rummaging in the deep pockets of his camel coat.

I could hear him mumbling into his mobile as I turned, looked down the street and saw some young men emerge from the alley beside the bank. They walked quickly, heads bowed in an attempt to shield themselves from the rain. A young woman in a sharp suit and killer heels tottered toward us holding a transparent umbrella. Her blonde hair blew out behind her as she walked, looking like a model from one of the magazines I secretly tended to devour with a cup of coffee and a calorie-laden chocolate bar. In a way, I envied women like her. She was so well put together, so confident. I looked down at my scruffy, waterlogged Converse sneakers and frowned. Comfort was the key to my wardrobe. Jeans, tees, long-sleeved jumpers and sneakers characterized my style. Still, I consoled myself with the fact that I was a busy girl and, even if I could somehow afford five-inch Jimmy Choos, they wouldn’t be compatible with racing for buses, jumping onto trains, or walking for miles saddled with library books.

The cars in Ballast city center were now in total gridlock. Car horns blared and the sulphuric smells of bus exhaust hung in the air. As I watched the men and women hurrying to get home, I thought of our current