Whispers

By Peter Barns

A tale of mystery and haunting whispers in a remote cottage sets the stage for a gripping journey of discovery. When John and his daughter Emma move into their new home, strange whispers from the walls spark Emma's curiosity. As she delves into the hidden secrets of the cottage she unravels a chilling history of murder and dark secrets. With the help of her mother's spirit and a mysterious stranger named James, Emma must confront a Satanic group and break a curse to save her family. Prepare to be enthralled by this tense and thrilling story of redemption and the supernatural.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Barns
• Release date: Jun 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227854575

Peter Barns

Author - Poet - Versifier Born in Harlsden on the outskirts of London in 1943, Peter Barns spent his formative years living beside Regent's Park. Educated at a Secondary Modern school, he left with just one qualification in 'O' Level Art. Passing through a variety of occupations after leaving school, he finally ended up working in the construction industry as an electrician. After taking his City & Guilds, he became an electrical engineer and spent the next twenty years working on building sites. Somewhere in there he got married and divorced - a couple of times - and had two children. He moved to the Highlands of Scotland in the late 1980's along with his partner. With the move came a new occupation - counselling people with alcohol and drug problems - which he did for six years before managing a charitable company recycling redundant computers back into the community. Now retired he spends his time writing, and refurbishing houses. I love my mind: it takes me to fabulous places where strange creatures roam. A land unseen and unexplored. A visage reflecting the faces I've seen, the words I've heard and dreams yet to come. Peter Barns 2014

Book preview

Chapter 1

John Cooper jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Gasping for air, he listened to the echo of his shouts bouncing off the walls of the bedroom. In an effort to fully awaken, he sat up and rubbed his face, gradually letting go of the lingering memories of his wife’s murder. Every night, the dream was the same — her eyes, once full of life and love, were now vacant and lifeless. He couldn’t escape the haunting vision.

He threw back the duvet and hurried to the en suite bathroom, kneeling over the toilet bowl. In the midst of dry retching, he moaned, struggling to regain control of his breathing. Eventually, the struggle lessened, and he rose to his feet, stealing a glance at his reflection in the mirror. A man with a grey face, tall stature, and muscular build stared back at him. His eyes, a piercing blue, were bloodshot. The dark circles under them told the story of countless sleepless nights. John quickly showered and shaved, then ran a comb through his short brown hair with a grunt. The shower had brought a flush of colour back to his face, but it couldn’t erase the weariness etched deep into his features.

Time for breakfast.

John entered the kitchen and yelled upstairs. Hey, Emma! Got to make a move, love. His voice echoed in the otherwise silent house, a stark reminder of the void left by his wife’s absence.

He opened the kitchen cabinet and retrieved a box of cereal, giving it a brief shake. Damn, nearly empty. He would need to stop by the store tonight on his way home.

While turning on the kettle and preparing coffee, he shouted to Emma again. Make it quick, love. I overslept. The routine of preparing breakfast was comforting, a small semblance of normalcy in their otherwise disrupted lives.

Moments later, his daughter’s light footsteps echoed down the stairs as she entered the kitchen, dropping her backpack next to the counter.

Morning, love. This is for you. He pushed the bowl and milk carton across the table to her. Do you want some toast?

No, thanks, Dad. Emma’s voice was soft but firm. She had grown up so much in the past year, forced to mature quickly by the circumstances of their new reality.

John took a seat across from his daughter and watched her while sipping his coffee. It always hurt a bit when he did this. With her piercing green eyes, she resembled a smaller version of her mother as she looked back over at him; their depth and intensity always amazed him. Similar to her mother, Emma possessed a slender and athletic physique, displaying a youthful gracefulness. She had put her hair up in a ponytail today. Under the kitchen lights, it shimmered and brought a gentle smile of reminiscence to John’s lips.

Another bad dream, dad? Emma’s question was gentle but probing.

After setting his mug on the table, John nodded slightly.

I heard you shouting. Was it mum again?

John glanced at his wrist to check the time. Hey, it’s time to leave. Got everything you need for today? Did you do your homework last night?

He was trying to deflect, but Emma was too perceptive.

Yes, I did my homework. And don’t change the subject. Emma’s tone was firm, not letting him off the hook.

John let out a sigh. In the aftermath of his wife’s disappearance a year ago, his thirteen-year-old daughter had assumed the role of a mother figure. Her maturity was both a source of pride and a painful reminder of their loss.

Emma, there’s no need to worry. I’m okay. Honestly.

Are you still taking your pills? Concern creased her face, the lines making her look older than her years.

Hey, let’s go. It’s time to head to school. Your old man can fend for himself, love. Don’t worry, it’s unnecessary. John’s voice was light, but the weight of his words hung in the air.

Emma stood up and turned her back, grabbing her backpack. John could see the tension in her; the way she tossed her head, just like her mother used to when she was impatient with him. It was a gesture filled with so much emotion — frustration, love, worry.

He frowned, following Emma out to the street, trying to ignore the guilty feelings fighting for attention in his head. The morning sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows on the pavement. As they walked to the car, John couldn’t help but feel the heavy burden of his past, the relentless pursuit of justice for his wife, and the desperate need to protect his daughter from the darkness that had invaded their lives.

* * *

Emma dropped onto the bus seat next to Kristi and let out a sigh.

Kristi looked at her with raised eyebrows. What?

Emma shook her head and stared out the window at the passing shops. Nothing really. It’s just my dad. He had another one of those dreams last night. Woke me up shouting.

What does he dream about?

Emma raised her shoulders in a shrug. He won’t talk about it. Gets angry if I ... Emma surrounded her next words with air-quotes. ... keep on at him.

Is he still seeing the doctor?

Emma shook her head. Stopped going there a few months ago. He said it wasn’t doing any good. That the pills were making it hard for him to be clearheaded and look after me properly. With a furrowed brow, Emma faced her friend. I keep telling him I can look after myself, but he doesn’t listen.

Yeah, just like my dad. Only hears what he wants to. Drives my mum crazy sometimes.

For the next couple of minutes, they reflected on their fathers and their shortcomings, their conversation punctuated by the rhythmic bumps of the bus ride. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on their faces.

Can I tell you something, Kristi? Can I trust you to keep this between us and not laugh or tell anyone?

Kristi’s face lit up with curiosity. She nodded and said, Okay.

Well ... Emma hesitated, unsure if she should share her thoughts with her friend. Sometimes what she thought sounded stupid, even to herself. She looked out the window, avoiding Kristi’s gaze. You know the police think my mum was abducted and murdered, right?

Uh huh. Kristi still vividly recalled the incident when Emma’s dad was taken to the police station for questioning and all the ensuing rumours that started about his involvement in his wife’s death.

I don’t think she is dead. I think she is still out there somewhere, waiting for the right time to come home.

She’s been gone for a year, Emma. Wouldn’t she have taken her purse, mobile, and coat from her car if she had actually just run away?

Emma’s eyes remained fixed on the floor. I know that! Of course I know that. But sometimes, I can sense her presence. I know she’s still alive. She’s lost and can’t find her way back to me. Her words ended in a soft sob.

Kristi remained silent, feeling a bit embarrassed Emma was opening up to her about her innermost thoughts and dreams. Are you still going to modern dance classes after school this afternoon? she finally asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Emma reached over and rang the bell. Probably not. I opted to join the after school guitar class instead.

You’ve what? Kristi shouted as she followed Emma down the stairs. Why?

It was getting boring. Besides, I like the teacher in the guitar class better.

Kristi gave Emma a gentle push in the back when they stepped off the bus. Laughing together, they rushed into school, momentarily forgetting about their parents.

Inside the bustling school hallways, the noise and chatter of other students surrounded them, providing a temporary escape from their worries. They stopped by their lockers to grab their books.

Hey Emma, maybe we can start a band someday if you get really good at the guitar, Kristi suggested, a teasing glint in her eye.

Emma chuckled. Yeah, maybe. And you can be our lead singer. Deal?

Deal. Kristi grinned, and they high-fived.

As the first bell rang, signalling the start of classes, they parted ways with a wave. Emma felt lighter, the weight of her worries momentarily lifted by the comfort of her friend’s support. She knew the mystery of her mother’s disappearance still loomed large, but for now, she allowed herself to focus on the present, finding solace in the simple joys of school life and friendship.

* * *

John squeezed his way into the crowded underground carriage, holding onto the overhead strap, swaying along with the others. His eyes glazed over as his thoughts drifted back to his daughter and the problem he faced. When should he tell her what he had planned? He frowned. He should already have told her, but the timing never seemed right.

John had received the lawyer’s letter a few weeks ago and stashed it away in the kitchen drawer. Every time he thought about it, it brought back the trauma his wife had endured, triggering more nightmares and memories he wished to bury. It was something he longed to be over for good.

Clutching the strap, he retrieved the letter from his inside pocket and scrutinised the small text. It was concise and direct. Eighteen months ago, his mother-in-law had passed away at one hundred and ten, leaving her cottage in the Scottish Highlands to his wife. There had been some confusion about who owned the deeds to the cottage, leading to a long delay in transferring it to the new owner. That had now been resolved. John now possessed the property, even though it would take seven years for his wife’s death to be officially declared. Given the circumstances, the solicitor recommended he refrain from selling the premises right now.

John pursed his lips and rethought his decision to sell the place they currently lived in and possibly move up to Scotland to start his own company. The thought of the impact on Emma if he did so weighed heavily on his mind, overshadowing the benefits of his potential business. Even though time had passed, she remained unable to move on from her mother’s murder, clinging to the hope that one day she would come back.

John considered himself to be a hardworking individual who was loyal, compassionate, and protective towards Emma. He was convinced he could achieve success in his own business but believed it would be more manageable in Scotland where there was less competition. He had accumulated years of experience as an electrician, primarily on major building projects. What he did came naturally to him. So why did he hesitate?

During a telephone conversation last week, John mentioned the idea to his brother and received a somewhat unfavourable response. Mark’s cautious nature was well known. After listening to John’s incomplete idea, he pointed out the potential risks.

John couldn’t help but smile when he thought about his brother. Mark was a skilled equity trader in the city, which aligned perfectly with his careful nature. They were chalk and cheese in their outlook on life.

John navigated through the busy commuters and left the station, strolling down Chelsea Street towards the Easy Cafe for a delicious cooked breakfast. The aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee wafted towards him, lifting his spirits slightly. As he entered the cafe, he found his usual spot by the window, ordered his breakfast, and sat down, his mind still churning over his dilemma.

He thought about Emma again. She was his world, and her happiness mattered more than anything. She had been through so much already, and the thought of uprooting her life again made him feel uneasy. Yet, the opportunity in Scotland seemed too good to pass up. He needed to make it work for both of them.

As he waited for his breakfast, John took out his phone and started jotting down ideas. He listed the pros and cons of moving, the potential business opportunities, and how they could adapt to life in the Highlands. The more he wrote, the clearer his thoughts became. He knew he needed to have a heart-to-heart with Emma, to involve her in the decision-making process. She was old enough to understand, and her input was crucial.

When his breakfast arrived, John put away his phone and focused on the meal before him. The taste of the food and the warmth of the cafe provided a temporary respite from his worries. He knew the conversation with Emma would be difficult, but it was necessary. They needed to face the future together, whatever it might hold.

Finishing his meal, John felt a renewed sense of determination. He would speak to Emma tonight and lay everything out on the table. They would find a way through this, just as they had faced every challenge before. With that thought in mind, John left the cafe, ready to take the next step towards their uncertain but hopeful future.

Chapter 2

After packing up, John stored his tools in the large blue metal box on the tenth floor. Time to go home and get some tea for Emma. She would be home from school by now. Although he disliked her being a ‘latch-key kid’, his work schedule left him with no alternative. Another reason starting his own company appealed to him. By doing so, he could make his working hours flexible enough to align with her school schedule.

John ensured everything was safe before locking the box and took one last look around. The wind had intensified, sending hard gusts across the open floor and stirring up dust from the fresh concrete slabs. With a last glimpse at the imposing busbar riser he had spent the entire day on, he walked towards the lift.

He opened the flimsy cage and confidently stepped onto the wooden floor. Everyone on the site knew that riding the lift was prohibited, and that it was strictly reserved for materials. However, walking down the ten-story staircase would make him late for picking up Emma.

He gripped the rope that stretched from top to bottom of the lift cage, bracing himself as the lift descended abruptly. Gazing at the London skyline, he clung on against the wind. The tarpaulin on the building’s exterior, with its realistic mural of the finished apartments, flapped wildly in the increasing gusts of wind. Swearing, he struggled to keep his footing as the cage thumped against the runners. Swiftly dropping the rope, he halted the lift, holding on tightly as it jolted to a stop between floors.

When the lift cage suddenly collapsed beneath him, crashing and bouncing off the edges of the concrete slabs on its way to the ground, John found himself weightless. As the world went dark, he had a moment to see his wife in his mind’s eye, amidst the tumultuous scene of the street rushing up and steel scaffolding collapsing around him.

Smiling, she reached out her arms to him. Her eyes, filled with love and warmth, seemed to anchor him in the chaos. Memories of their life together flashed before him: their wedding day, the birth of Emma, lazy Sunday mornings filled with laughter and warmth. He recalled the promises they made to each other, the dreams they shared, and the unspoken bond that had grown stronger with each passing year.

As the noise and violence of the fall surrounded him, those moments of happiness seemed to wrap around him like a protective cocoon. He could almost feel her touch, hear her reassuring voice telling him everything would be alright. The thought of Emma waiting for him at home added a bittersweet layer to his emotions. He wanted so much to be there for her, to see her grow, to support her dreams, as he had always promised.

But now, as the ground rushed up with terrifying speed, John found a strange sense of peace in the vision of his wife. Her presence in his mind was so vivid, it was almost as if she were there with him, holding him close. And in that final moment, amidst the chaos, he allowed himself to let go, embracing the darkness with the comfort of her smile guiding him into the unknown.

* * *

Mark’s face contorted in dismay as he gazed down at his brother. It was an unpleasant surprise to see John lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes.

... fortunate to have made it through such a fall.

Mark shook his head and turned to the doctor. Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch what you said.

Take a seat for a moment, Mr Cooper. It’s possible that you’re experiencing shock.

Mark turned his gaze from the bed to the doctor. Will he be okay, though? He’s looking really rough.

Your brother experienced a wrist fracture and swelling in the brain. His hard hat cracked and his skull fractured when a scaffold pole hit it. To address potential brain swelling, we have placed him in an induced coma. We expect the swelling to decrease in the coming weeks.

You expect? Mark’s voice rose on the last word.

Mr Cooper, I understand that this is distressing for you, but it’s important to remain positive. The doctor consulted his tablet. I’ve noticed that John has a young daughter and his wife’s whereabouts are unknown. Would you like me to get in touch with Social Services?

We will keep Emma with us until John is out of the hospital. She’s back at our house just now. Can she come in and visit with her father?

I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. We have a few tests we need to conduct beforehand.

I’ve heard that speaking with someone in John’s situation can be beneficial. Is that true?

The doctor gave a nod. Occasionally. His healing process will be gradual and inconsistent, at best.

Mark acknowledged the words with a frown. I see. How long will he stay in intensive care?

The doctor gave a slight shrug. Again, we have no way of knowing just now. We should hopefully get some sign from the tests. If you have no more questions for now, Mr Cooper ...?

Mark shook his head and continued staring at his younger brother. Overwhelmed by countless questions, he wondered where to even start. The door closed gently with a click, leaving Mark alone with his brother.

Seated on a red plastic chair next to the bed, Mark gently rubbed his face with his hands. The sound of shoes on the Amtico flooring in the corridor reached his ears, along with the distinct hospital smell. He reached over to the bed and gently touched his brother’s wrist.

"I don’t know if you can hear me, John,