Captive of the Light - Lily Ramsay (ereader iphone txt) 📗

1.
(2006)


As the removal truck unloaded our furniture, we were left standing outside the ominous brick estate, Pembrooke Manor...Tom of course thought that this was great, I suppose as any 12 year old boy would have; it came right out of a movie set. I however was not convinced; here we were hundreds of miles away from home and anything remotely familiar all because some long lost grandmother had left us this spooky old house to my father in her will. Dad had insisted that this was going to be a refreshing change for us all and mum had tried to act enthusiastic for his sake.
Us city people needed a change apparently, well give me a house on the beach and I might had agreed but not stuck out in the middle of the English country side with a screaming baby sister in my arms and an annoying little brother, and wait for it... no internet connection!
****
Watching the van pull away the reality of our present situation soon dawned on us. We were to spend tonight all by ourselves in a freezing old manor in which a decrepit old lady met her death. Not exactly a perfect start to our summer holidays.
Oh and that’s another thing, summer, please, what a pathetic excuse for summer it has not stopped raining since them moment we set foot off the plane. Back home its thirty degrees, here I bet it’s at least only ten degrees. Honestly the things we put up with.
“Lauren!” came Tom’s whiny voice pulling me out of my negative somewhat grumpy thoughts. “What” I snapped although it was pretty obvious what he wanted seeing as we were still standing outside with only a thin umbrella over our heads. Right, I thought, the keys, now I do have them...somewhere. As I instinctively reached into my carry bag juggling Grace in my other arm. “Are they there” asked Tom, an edge of panic to his voice, to him I gave no reply, I just passed Grace to him and crossed everything crossable in my body that I hadn’t lost them for good...mum and dad would kill me!
This is when the dread finally kicked in, it was pouring with rain, we were in a foreign country and I had my brother and sister to look after by myself until tomorrow and we had no access to any shelter! Great!
When the misty dusk was settling and we were huddled under the porch of our new home, I caught sight of a flickering light in the distance. Although I told myself not to get my hopes up I could not stop myself from feeling some kind of lift in my spirits. It was getting cold and I knew that when Tom woke he would be hungry. My attention wavered from the light as Grace stirred in my arms but when I glanced back up into the fog I realised that indeed the light had moved closer.So close as such I could now make out the figure of a girl, about my age standing approximately five metres in front of me holding out something within her enclosed fist. She made no attempt to move forward and figuring that she might be able to help us with our predicament I placed Grace gently on the deck praying she wouldn’t wake and moved cautiously towards this girl.
At first glance she seemed rather wild and untamed with long unruly black hair that fell down her back and piercing green eyes that seemed to transport you to another world. However on closer inspection you realised that she had small dimples in each of her cheeks and a frail but nimble looking little body, she couldn’t be any older than fifteen. When she noticed me studying her intently she shyly looked away and put up veil of tumbling black locks between us whilst keeping her arm outstretched. As she uncurled her wrist the object within took the shape of an old ancient key. I gazed curiously at the key expecting an explanation but all I got was a slight turn of the head as she dropped it into my hand. It was cool and smooth like an antique, something that would sell for millions on the annoying antiques road show. As I marvelled at the peculiar object, I felt the girls’ stare on me. When I drew my eyes away from the mysterious object I noticed that she was pointing toward the manor and the doorway. I turned to observe the entry wondering if the key fit the rusty lock and how, if it did, was it possible. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that when I turned back the weird girl was gone and in her place was a crumpled note reading “Caro” in a boyish scrawl. Seeing that, I lifted my eyes from the piece of paper I caught sight of the girl wandering towards the night sky...the moonlight glowing a pathway before her.


2.


Amazingly the key had fit the lock. I had successfully got Grace to sleep and I had left Tom in what was to become the living room listening to his iPod when I wandered outside to the porch. Everything seemed so still and quiet.
It was at that point I really started to become curious about this queer girl who seemed to lack the ability to speak. What did the note mean; “Caro”, and how on earth did she have the key to this old disintegrating manor that had ruled this country side for centuries?
****

As planned the next day mum and dad arrived with overflowing suitcases and hugs all round. There was nothing said about the key situation or the odd girl from the day before, it all seemed like a dream, a fragment of my imagination.
The days went by and we settled into our routine, the furniture was put into place although it all looked quite small and plain in this grand house. We each got to choose our bedrooms which gave room for an argument as Tom and I each wanted the tower room until I scared him off with a horror story about it; I told him the in the olden days it used to be the place of execution and the murdered souls still roam the tower, seeking vengeance. This frightened him off, so much though that he wouldn’t even climb the stairs leading up to it. Therefore claiming me my tower.
****
Of course, as any normal family there were rules to be set in place:
1.No yelling inside because it echoes.
2.Tell either mum or dad if you are going beyond the back garden.
3. Must wear shoes outside
4. Ensure that you aren’t wearing shoes on the carpeted areas
5. No, under any circumstances enter the attic!
Most of those rules were the same as back at home; my parents were fairly quiet people and set in their ways. But the one rule that that baffled me and left me pondering the reason behind it was the one about the attic. Why were they so adamant that we were not to enter the attic? Was there something we weren’t supposed to know?
****
So the week progressed uneventfully. Mum made a few trips to town and came back speaking of all the town gossip and friendly people she had met, while dad got stuck into creating an office for him to work from home in. He chose a dark den in the back of the house that was warm and cosy. He said that it was the perfect inspiration for his new job.
Tom spent most of his time wandering the grounds and bringing home stray dogs he found trekking aimlessly through the fields. He always had always had a soft spot for animals.
I spent my days decorating my room and settling into our new life. I had found a telescope in one of the many spare rooms and dragged it up to my tower. It was positioned by my window that gave a full view towards Willowcombe, our town. It was beautiful, with gable thatched and shingled roofs and winding cobblestone streets.
At that moment, forcing me to stick my head back in doors, a cold gust of wind blew through the open window and with it brought a crumpled piece of paper. I caught it just in time before it flew through the tower door which was standing just ajar. I carried it back to my chair by the window and curled up. I took a deep breath and unrumpled the dirty paper. There in the centre of it were the words that read:
“Meet...clock tower...Midnight”
The note indeed was uncanny and odd but there was something else about it that made it slightly more sinister. When I pulled the previous note out from my pocket that read “Caro” the handwriting matched. It was written by the same person. And that person obviously wanted something from me.


3.

Once I was sure that everyone at home was sound asleep, I quietly pulled on my overcoat, boots, stuffed pillows in my bed and made my way down the creaky stairs toward the front door. Without a glance back I heaved the door open and stepped out into the mystic night.
Hurrying down the lane, I had the sneaking suspicion that someone was following me and although I turned back on countless occasions and saw that nobody was I just could not shake off the sensation.
Everything was eerily quiet, nothing to be heard except the rustling of the leaves in the trees as I made my way to the church. My mind was churning. What or who were ‘Caro’ and what on earth was the connection to this place or person. Another thing that was troubling me was the reference to the church tower, why there of all places and what was it I was meant to do?
I had become so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice the church looming in front of me. I stood out front for about five minutes, wandering whether to go in and in the end decided to make my move. The door swung open easily and I was left standing inside a huge hall. The clock tower is what the note had said but where was that? All I knew is that it was elevated. I went around the rows of wooden benches and found a narrow spiral staircase leading up toward a platform. Seeing as it was my only option I started up, taking it slowly not wanting to slip. When I finally reached the top I looked around for any sight of movement but there was nothing. Maybe the note wasn’t for me maybe it was a coincidence that the two happened to fall into my lap.
Just when I was getting ready to leave I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and what seemed like blissful sighing. In my panic, I ducked behind a supporting beam and prayed that the sounds went away. They didn’t. By this stage I was breathing hard and fast. The blissful sighing continued and then the sound of dripping started. This continued for a few minutes and then nothing. My warm bed was calling and I was about to get up and move when a note fluttered to my feet.