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  Haunted House Scares

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  ©2018 by Carrie Bates

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  The Haunting of Barrister Mansion

  The Haunting of Wescott House

  The Haunting of Macklen House

  The Haunting of Brantura House

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  The Haunting of Barrister Mansion

  ©2018 by Carrie Bates

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Prologue

  The Barrister Mansion, March 7, 1895

  Hampstead, London, England

  The house was a façade. Its charming exterior preached a welcoming aura, but inside, it housed a gang of gruesome folk. William sat disheveled in his office, reminiscing about a time when the house was inhabited by a pleasant couple. He was down to his last pound… and his last drop of whiskey.

  The Barrister wealth had been left to him after the couple’s untimely and most unexpected passing. Jacob Barrister was a profound character in the town. He was an esquire; a man of law and manner. He was well versed in matters of religion, politics, geography, and history, and could play the fiddle rather well. He was also handsome, which certainly didn’t hurt his likability.

  Mr. Barrister often housed lavish dinner parties in his flamboyant mansion. The salmon-colored roofing and staircase were, perhaps, a curious design choice, however, it rendered Jacob’s dwelling distinct. Guests flowed in and out of the building. For this reason, the Barrister mansion was equipped with twelve rooms, all of which could bed four people. It was a running joke that many a guest had gotten lost in the Barrister mansion on their way to the toilets; everyone loved the Barristers’ toilets. In fact, those who were lucky enough not to get desperately turned around while in search of those supposedly luxurious ceramic bowls, ranted and raved about them until their faces turned blue.

  Thankfully, those rumors about guests getting hopelessly lost amongst the three floors of the house were just that―mere folly. William was Jacob’s manservant and confidante. He knew the house like he knew the nose on his own face. If anyone were to get baffled by the house’s vast extremities, William was there to guide them. He enjoyed pampering his master, as his master pampered him back. In turn for William’s service, he received a modest pay, a gorgeous room in a house that was the envy of the city, and was allowed attendance at all of Jacob’s social events. Jacob’s wife, Adelaide, though a more delicate and quiet natured person, was equally as kind and well-mannered as her husband. William had been fortunate given his past situation.

  William had often heard people talk of ‘running away to the circus.’ The opposite had been true, in his case. William was the child of an Indian man and a British woman. His father owned a circus showcasing people with various frightening deformities. His father treated his performers like dogs, and his mother only married his father as a means of getting a free piece of the spotlight. William despised how selfish they were. They didn’t care about entertainment or bringing joy to the townsfolk, and they certainly didn’t care about him. The only thing they did care for came in brown glass bottles. For this reason, William ran away from the circus. It was on the streets of London, wet from the persistent rain, and alone in the world, that William happened to bump into Mr. Barrister.

  “Dear God!” Mr. Barrister had exclaimed, upon accidentally knocking the fifteen-year-old William into a puddle, “I am so very sorry.” Upon helping William to his feet, Mr. Barrister examined the boy’s sickly state and invited him in for some tea. At the time, William perceived the man’s generosity for a miracle. Little had he known, Mr. Barrister was on the lookout for a Butler. Specifically, Jacob wanted a fresh face―someone who wasn’t stuffy, pretentious or overly formal. He saw it as no coincidence that William happened to drop into his life just then.

  And so, William worked for Mr. Barrister, exchanging his services as a manservant in exchange for a daily wage, a place to live, and three meals a day. It was during a particularly memorable dinner party, when William’s life took a sudden turn. On top of being a notably fair attorney, Jacob was a patrician who ran several clubs and often hosted dinner parties. During one such event, he stood from his spot at the head of the table, wine in hand in preparation for a toast. William had just finished serving the main course and was standing adjacent to Jacob. He noticed a curious look befall Jacob’s face. Moments later, Jacob collapsed into William’s arms, paralyzed from the waist down. The dinner party came to an abrupt end; it most certainly wasn’t his most successful gathering.

  According to many high ranking doctors all over London, Jacob was suffering from apoplexy. In other words, an artery that supplied blood to his brain had become blocked. A surgery was performed in attempts to unblock this artery, but it was done to no avail. While Jacob remained pale and unmoving in his bed, his wife Adelaide spiraled into a severe melancholic state.

  As Jacob’s right hand man, William felt obliged to help his master. But there was nothing more he could do than fix tea and polish the silverware. As for Adelaide, he attempted to comfort her, but his words never seemed to sink in. Anything he said trickled from her like beads of water from a duck’s back. She was utterly lost in her depression. When Jacob died, so did she.

  She wore black for weeks after his funeral. She said nothing. William insisted she eat.

  “Master Barrister wouldn’t want to see you becoming so frail,” he told her. He rang an alienist in hopes of helping Adelaide through her mental torment. She met with him twice a week for a fortnight. William had perceived her condition as improving gradually. But one morning, she failed to attend breakfast. Assuming she’d slept through, William took a tray of food to her room. He entered to find her vacant eyed and slumped over in her rocking chair. Her death was deemed a suicide when the investigators found a bottle of empty sleeping pills on her nightside table. She’d overdosed.

  Again, William found himself alone in life. This time, however, he was alone with a considerably larger amount of money. As stated in the wills of the Barristers, upon their death, all their possessions and finances were to be given to the young man who’d done so well to serve them: William. Suddenly, William found himself the owner of an enviably large luxurious house and a handsome sum of money. William decided to use his new found wealth to outdo his father. He would use the massive house as a place to host a circus. He would treat his performers fairly, unlike his cruel father, providing them with shelter and food within the twelve rooms of the house.

  William’s fantasy fared better within the confines of his imagination than in reality. Having long ago succumbed to his alcoholism, William’s father was gone, but what had happened to all of his performers? William returned to the now abandoned building that had once opened its doors to crowds of people in sear
ch of entertainment and those white and red striped bags of peanuts. The building was in no state to be of any use to him, however, William did not have to look far before finding the circus’s previous performers. Inside the woebegone structure, William discovered a gang of social pariahs, alone in the world, just like him.

  It wasn’t long before the Barrister house buzzed with activity. William was forced to undergo costly renovations to the mansion in order to install ramps to allow a young man with no limbs access to all floors. Pushing the ‘Limbless Lad’ in his wheelchair, was a man covered entirely in thick black fur. This man was known as ‘The Wolfman’. William found himself constantly sweeping up the man’s fur. Conjoined twins fought ferociously, a 500 pound woman threatened to break through the second floor of the house, a lofty man who was 9 feet tall couldn’t fit into his bed, and a dozen midgets posed as bases for the lampshades. The number of accommodations William was forced to do for the group was almost too much. He could never draw the curtains to any of the windows, as the albino children possessed skin too sensitive for exposure to the sun. The amount of food he needed to purchase and prepare for the performers (especially the 500 pound lady) wiped the markets out and had his servants working like madmen. The bearded woman and the wolfman required top notch hair products to maintain their precious hair, and the hunchback had to have all of his clothes specifically tailored to fit over his hunch.

  The only performer who wasn’t high maintenance was a mild-mannered imbecile named Clint. All Clint ever did was sleep and drool.

  Catering to the performers had nearly wiped out William’s entire fortune. Like his father, the group drank profusely and demanded he keep the liquor cabinet stocked at all times. William was beginning to have his doubts about the circus, but the grand opening was only a week away, and the house was fully renovated to entertain and hold an audience of one hundred people. William had created advertisements for the circus’s grand opening and had them posted all over London. He could see the people flocking to the Barrister mansion to witness ‘William’s Wacky House of Freaks.’ Anyone with any amount of morbid curiosity and a little extra coin, would surely pay for a ticket if it meant laying eyes upon a wolfman or a bearded lady.

  It was the opening night, and much to William’s delight, he was selling tickets left and right. People were lined out the front entrance, waiting to see the world’s strangest looking people. Unfortunately, amongst these folks was a group of religious extremists who believed people with deformities were of the devil.

  The spotlight hit William as he descended down the stairs toward the sea of eager viewers. Never had he felt more alive in his ringmaster’s coat and freshly curled mustache.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed, “be prepared to witness a spectacle of people inhuman in appearance. First up, we have a man of whom you’ve only heard in tales of horror and woe. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the one, the only, The Wolfman!”

  Upon hearing his cue, the wolfman leapt from a banister high above the crowd and landed snarling ferociously before them. The audience gasped, and a wave of applause resonated through the house.

  The show was running smoothly, and the audience was beside themselves with awe. William’s circus was a huge success… that is, until the conjoined twins made their appearance. The twins fought comically, attempting to no avail to pull themselves apart from each other.

  The laughter soon turned sour when a foul voice cried, “These creatures are of the devil!” The cloaked Christian extremists protruded from the crowd like tombstones from the ground.

  “We must burn these wicked works and send them back from whence they came!”

  Their torches burned with conviction as they marched toward William and his performers. William was trapped. Never had he imagined a group of people so intolerant of differences to exist.

  “RUN!” William shouted.

  Chaos ensued. The crowd dispersed like a herd of gazelles fleeing from a hungry lion. People shrieked in panic as the Persian carpet they stood upon erupted into flame. The cloaked assassins of God pulled their daggers from their sheaths and hunted down the freaks one by one. Many of the freaks didn’t go down without a fight. The Wolfman gored a few throats before succumbing to a blade in the gut. He fought to protect the Limbless Lad, who later became headless as well. The conjoined twins were de-conjoined, the 9 foot man was chopped down to a mere 5 feet, and the dwarves provided as kindling for the fire, which was frequently devouring the house.

  William coughed violently as he stumbled through the thick black smoke. In a final act of desperation, he made a call to the fire brigade before collapsing unconscious from smoke inhalation.

  The fire brigade arrived and managed to extinguish the surmounting flames. Significant damage was done to the Barrister house. As the smoke dispersed, the members of the fire fighting gang were aghast at the carnage that coated the debris. William’s Wacky House of Freaks had swiftly become William’s House of Slaughtered Freaks.

  Chapter One

  June 20, 2018

  Hampstead, London, England

  Everyone had warned her not to buy the gargantuan Victorian mansion that sat lonesome in a field, but Sophie wasn’t the sort to heed much attention to warnings, especially when it pertained to her lifelong dream.

  Sophie had always fantasized about owning a quaint and eclectic bed and breakfast. Now that the Barrister mansion was on the market for a reasonable price, Sophie was in the mood for buying. She also wasn’t getting any younger. Come July, she’d be turning thirty years old. She’d graduated her interior design course and was now in the midst of completing a business degree at college. She had all the skills she needed to run a successful business. All she had to do was go for it!

  As Sophie exited the school, she passed a fellow classmate. His name was Gunther, and he most certainly fancied her.

  “Hey, Sophie!” he called after her. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

  It was just after 6 pm, and Sophie was beat. “I’m just going to go home,” she replied. “I’m knackered, and I have to be up bright and early tomorrow to finalize things with the house.”

  In all honesty, Sophie quite liked Gunther. He was charming, had kind features, and seemed bright enough. Gunther was an amputee. Every time Sophie interacted with Gunther, she was so distracted by his missing leg, she could scarcely focus on a word he said. It wasn’t that she was prejudiced, it was that he reminded her of her father before he passed. Her father had suffered from diabetes and had lost his leg due to the disease. It had been a year since he’d passed, and Sophie still wasn’t over it.

  “You’re quite the brave soul for buying that place up,” Gunther said. He walked with the aid of a pair of crutches. Even so, he courteously nudged the front entrance of the school door open for Sophie, who immediately felt guilty for allowing him to do so. “I’ve read a lot of stories about people going mad in that place.”

  Sophie sighed. “Yes, well they’re just that, aren’t they, stories.”

  Gunther shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  Sophie felt mildly uncomfortable as Gunther followed her down the steps. She knew what was coming next, and she had no idea how to respond.

  “Listen, Sophie,” Gunther began as they reached the walkway, “I’d like to take you out for a drink some day. Maybe when you’re not too busy chasing off the monsters of the Barrister mansion!” he teased.

  Sophie bit her lip, uncertain of how to proceed. On one hand, she was attracted to Gunther. It had been a year since the collapse of her previous marriage. Seeing another man would be good for her―in fact, it was necessary for her social health. On the other hand, every time her eyes made contact with the vacant spot where his right leg was meant to be, Sophie saw her Dad lying pale, covered in sores, and wired into a machine.

  In the end, Sophie responded the only way she knew how, “I’ll think about it,” she said, smiling.

  “Alright,” Gunther replied. “Just don’t think to
o hard!”

  The two parted ways. Sophie headed toward the tube, thankful she’d avoided the awkward scenario of going on a date with Gunther.

  “Oh, God, Sophie!” she chagrined herself. “That’s a horrible thing to think!”

  Redirecting her thoughts, Sophie wondered what it was about the Barrister mansion that had everyone wetting their trousers. Granted, it was a somewhat eerie looking Victorian house, but that was part of its draw. People were often fascinated with historical architecture, especially when it bore an air of mystery.

  Sophie pushed her doubt from her chest and entered the tube. For once in her life, she just wanted control over something. Finally, Sophie was free after ten unbearable years married to a man who insisted upon dictating every aspect of her life. Sophie still remembered the argument that broke her.

  Sophie and her husband had shared a flat in Kensington at the time. At first, Sophie didn’t mind Louis’s stance on handling rent, the groceries, or the utility bill. She saw his insistence on taking care of finances as his way of showing his love for her. He wanted to be useful. Wrong. Louis was a control freak. He had to have control. In fact, upon separating her bank account from his after years of pooling their funds, Sophie discovered Louis had spent hundreds of pounds on the drink. She’d always noticed he had a fridge stocked full of beer, but never had she dared to peer into Louis’s restricted cabinet. The cabinet most certainly wasn’t what she’d initially thought it to be - a personal sweet’s cabinet. No. It was his supply of hard liquor. It was why his breath was trite when they kissed, and why she often found him unconscious by the toilet in the morning.

  Sophie couldn’t believe how gullible she’d been. She’d actually believed him when he claimed he got sick so often from possessing food allergies. The argument that split them for good pertained to her sick father at the time. Sophie’s Dad was diabetic, and had just gone into a diabetic coma. She’d wanted to visit him in the hospital one day, but Louis wasn’t having it. Had he not been drunk, he’d probably not had protested near as much.