Dear Mr.Brown

I’m writing to you to apply to stay at Dark wood Manor for one night.

When I read your advert in the paper I found that there was very little detail, Is this because it was too expensive to put in the paper, of a man who has 20,000 to give away?! You may think this is none of my business, but as I may be staying there I ought to know. £500 has tempted me brilliantly though.

Bear in mind I am an artist so I will have a heavy load. I know it is only one night but it will give me something to do. As well as a career it is also a hobby, quite useful; don’t you think?

Well I hope to see you soon, and also to be impressed. So as I said, please mention some detail of the quality of my accommodation.

Yours truly,

Molly Brown

It was 9.00am and I was sitting in the lounge, waiting for the post that, as usual, was at least fifteen minutes late. I heard a bang in the hallway. At last. First in the pile of letters, bills, then a letter from my mum, then there was a letter with an address I didn’t recognise.

In the lounge I tore off the envelope over the bin and out fell a short letter. I had to read the blooming thing five times to even find out what the heck it was about.

It’s been almost a year was the first thing to cross my mind. It was an answer to the letter of application I had sent to stay in Dark wood Manor. It invited me to come to the Swan Hotel in Darkington at 8.00 on Friday thirteenth. I only had so many hours to pack and get to Darkington from Wales!

It took me ten hours to get there, so I was in a rather tetchy mood. I didn’t have much trouble finding the Swan because it was huge and the other side of the street.

Inside there were about thirty other people sitting in small groups around coffee tables. An impatient look seemed to have dawned on their faces not that long ago. I went and sat down with two other people sipping at their coffee.

"Hi, you here for Dark wood Manor?" one of the women asked me.

"Really, my mum’s from Wales!" She took another sip of her coffee," I’m an artist," she added with great pride;" well sort of, it’s not a career."

"No, I’m an artist," I said in an I-can’t-believe-it voice. The girl grinned.

"I’m Elizabeth Ward," she said holding out her hand, "Molly Brown," I said taking it in mine. The other of the two girls held out her hand hopefully, I laughed and shook it. "Abigail Smith," she obviously hadn’t needed me to ask. Our talking was stopped instantly.

A tall man with a toothbrush moustache strode into the room. Mr. Brown. "Hello everybody, I will take any questions you have about the Manor."

"Are there any services attached to the Manor?" somebody asked. It turned out that there were no services at all. About half an hour of questions followed. "Excuse me, but that lady tried to kill me!" someone complained, she pointed at me! I was in a state of shock. "Madam, I am sure it is just your imagination!" Mr.Brown insisted. "Any more questions?" All was quiet. "Then I have something to tell you, there has been an, unfortunate occurrence, please come back next week," and he just strolled out of the door! Everything was still for a split second then

Everyone’s anger seemed to split through a dam in their chest. Deciding this was a perfect opportunity to let off some steam, I started to scream and shout too.

The Manor First Impressions

The huge battered doors seemed to restore themselves, grand detailed, as though I had travelled back in time for a split second. Inside, the entrance hall, at first, a close dusty smell. The grand stairway stretched across the marble tiles enthusiastically as though trying to get attention. Again the whole room seemed to restore it self. The stairs became swept clean and painted rosewood.

The marble floor carried on through to the ballroom. Its oak panelling was hidden by centauries of filth and dust; I could just imagine the white teak furniture and veranda café coffee tables.

There I was at last, standing on the once grand stone steps of this stunning old house, feeling small in my own way.

Mr.Brown opened the huge front doors on which the beautiful detail was still visible. The entrance hall had an amazing cracked marble floor; the grand stairway spread its self boastfully across it. It seemed to stand proud in its own glory. I was heaved along to find Mr.Brown saying he was going to give a guided tour; I dumped my stuff in the corner of the hall and followed on.

In the far corner of the hall there were a few books perched on an ancient round table where the hundreds of years of dust seemed to cover the floor the most.

Departing from the group I delicately swept the cobwebs from the top of the pile and made my best effort to make out the title. "S, s staying list of one nine five eight. Staying list of nineteen fifty eight!" I slammed the book down and ran to catch up with the others.

There were two kitchens one of which we saw. Also there was a dayroom, a conservatory, a parlour and a dining room. The first kitchen had to be in the worst condition, filth, everywhere, even in the air.

When we were back at the ballroom I went and picked up the staying list and shoved it in my bag and threw myself onto my airbed, but missed and landed on the floorboards instead, it was a miracle I hadn’t made a hole. I gritted my teeth and let out a sigh (instead a short intake of breath) and climbed onto my back onto it.

A short while later I, Elizabeth and Abigail were all having coffee and chocolate. Mr.Brown checked his watch and strode slowly over to the double doors and with a soft click pulled them shut. It was amazing how smaller sound could have such impact, everyone stared ,transfixed, at the door for a few seconds and my worries started to increase rapidly, what had I got myself into.

As we sat in an uneven circle having food and drinks my worries stated to decrease, gradually at first, until I was completely calm.

In the middle of the room there was a larger bunch of women. One of them beckoned us over. Soon enough we were all yakking away, the chatter dribbled down to slurping of coffee. I took out my charcoal kit and paper and looked around for something to draw. I suddenly remembered from the guided tour, the picture of what ever his name was, and the owner of the Manor in the late eighteen hundreds. There it was, demolished by dust and patched with holes. With my charcoal knife I sliced the bottom of the picture and pulled the whole thing of the wall. I was feeling a little scandalous so I didn’t care as much as I usually would. As I turned away from the wall, something told me to turn back.

There, where the picture had been was a huge hole in the panelling. I dropped the picture which clunked on the floorboards raising clouds of dust and leaned in for closer examination. Realising there was no hope of seeing anything in the dark I snatched up my torch and flicked the switch. A dim light spilled into the space that turned out to be a passage way going up one way and down the other.

Literally two seconds later all my friends were crowded around me trying to get a glimpse inside it.

Somebody at the back at of the crowd shoved us all forward and Lucy, (the girl who beckoned us to the larger group of women) fell in to the passage way and out of sight. Everybody gasped, but it seemed that Lucy was in no danger, because she stood up clearly visible and unhurt. "It’s really shallow guys," she assured us "honest, its fine." It was very odd for someone to speak into the stunned silence.

So one by one, we all clambered into the hole in the wall. When we were all used to the surroundings, with my torch as the light source, we started to move long. Then it hit me, we were between the walls of the ballroom and the parlour! I tapped Lucy on the shoulder. "What?" She snapped. "Well, I’ve just figured we’re between walls, we could break through to the other side!" I replied hopefully. Lucy’s face lit up, she wheeled around to say to the others, they had gone!

"Oh God," I shone the torch behind me knowing it was no use but I couldn’t resist. I turned around praying they would all reappear, Lucy had gone too. I stared before me in disbelief; this was going too far, I was scared now. I knew there was nothing to do but wait to see where I would end up I continued. A tiny flicker of hope lit up inside me, I could see a light ahead. A sturdy ladder led up through the ceiling. Unable to see where it ended I began to climb.

I sat dangling my legs in the passage way I had come up, trying to figure out where I was. That tiny light of hope simmered down to nothing, I was on the first floor, and Mr.Brown had told us earlier, the first floor was banned due to unsafe construction. I would have to be careful where I stepped.

A pair of feet seemed to pad towards me from behind. I could hear deep heavy breathing, rattling amongst all the quiet. Unwillingly I turned around to see. I could have sworn something dashed into the bedroom. Bringing my self up very quickly I slipped into another room, my back against the wall, swallowing heavily. There was something breathing beside me I turned to look, there was nothing there. The rattling breathing again, but this time it was saying something. "Aaavaa, Cameron, Debraaa Brown." Names I thought the guest list. I flicked through until I found, BR, there it was, Debra Brown. The breathing grew louder and louder, it was unbearable to listen to any more.

Suddenly I remembered my heels. Fumbling with the side laces I slipped my boot off craned my neck so I could see through the door. I chucked it as hard as I could and twisted around out of sight. The next thing I knew my hands were slapped against my ears trying to block out the shrill screams that shook the walls.

I waited a few minutes before going to see how the short catastrophe had ended. On the ground, to my astonishment, lay nothing but my boot splattered with blood. Right, this is getting stupid! I thought, I’m going back. Something, however, rooted me to the spot. I suddenly felt sort of, reckless, and had an urge to explore the first floor. I took out my plan of the manor and found where I was. The thing is, even when you know when something is wrong or dangerous you still manage to do it, not this time though. With much disappointment, I slid back through into the tunnel and took my other boot off to make each leg one size. Something dropped in behind me. Not daring to look around I began to run. Thwack! I collided with something solid, no, someone. Wails of pain filled the passage. I looked up holding my head in my hands, Lucy!

"they say the house is haunted"

She, Elizabeth and Abigail started babbling at me all at once. "Shut up!" I yelled at them, "one at a time!" Apparently (I assumed this was not true) they had found something or someone in the kitchens and, in fear, had fled. So, ignoring my protests, we started towards the kitchens.

"Here we are," said Lucy half an hour later. I looked around; this was certainly not the first kitchen, you could actually see what covered the floorboards.

There were two parts to the room, separated by half a wall. I wandered round to the other side and stopped dead in my tracks.

I cold not believe what I was seeing. Shortly, I was joined by Lucy, who walked strait into me and fainted anyway at the sight of blood. Just as she was getting up I swung around and hit her in the face. Stumbling backward, she fell once again to the ground. "That was not helpful, Molly!" she grumbled. As she got to her feet, the others came to see what the commotion was about. Elizabeth gasped; Abigail screamed and clutched my arm.

Sprawled on the floorboards was a fresh body splattered with blood. Carefully, I knelt down and made to reach for the wallet.

Inside, it was soggy and full of old papers. I pulled out a clump of them and recognised it at once as money. "Nineteen fifty eight," I muttered. Next in the wallet there was a laminated card. From that I found out that she was called, Debra Brown and she was twenty eight years old.

It only took us minutes to have the guest list and soggy papers spread out all around us. "Here it is, Debra Brown," I said "it says Debra Brown on this," I held up the laminated card, "and on her money it says nineteen fifty eight, this guest list is from then and Debra Brown is in here," I pointed at the guest list.

Suddenly Abigail crawled over to the body. She stretched out her leg and kicked it over. She rolled over backward, shuffled as far away as she could from it. Elizabeth put her hands under her armpits and pulled her up. Nobody spoke, or even breathed, just stared in desperation and horror at the mingled face of the woman, trampled down with hair and blood.

One of her startlingly green eyes was still visible; the other had been pushed into her face, puncturing the delicate skin that only covered half of her face. Her nose was flat and huge gashes made her face look sunken and bony.

"Of coarse," I breathed, "she’s from nineteen fifty eight, she got locked in the last time Mr. Brown did this, she has been here for, um, forty five years, someone has killed her recently, the same is gonna happen to us!"

"We have GOT to get out of here!" said Lucy quietly.

"We have," I checked my watch, "twenty five minutes till Brown gets back, It’ll take us ten minutes to get back to the ballroom, ten to get everybody to follow us and the last five to get as far away as possible." I finished composedly. A long silence followed, then finally Abigail said" Ooer, get her, Molly swallowed a dictionary!"

We couldn’t just stand there, we were wasting time!

Darkwood Manor

Finally my nose was bleeding and I was sweating like a pig, (we say everything like a pig when it’s emphasized don’t we!) and I felt sure we had passed the portrait hole. Abigail and Elizabeth were laughing behind me. One of them shrieked and pushed me and Lucy into the wall. It creaked threateningly and the walls started to split whack, we landed upside down. I looked up, we were outside!

"Here," I whispered franticly, "in the hedge!" We all scrambled to our feet and ran into the hedge to hide, Mr.Brown had just arrived. He strolled down the stone path, clutching his fur coat tightly around himself, I suddenly noticed how cold it was. He grasped one of the handles and swung the door open. It was clear just how many people had got out of the ballroom. They all rampaged down the path and scattered in every direction. I grinned to myself, one part of me wanted to tell the world what had just happened, the other wanted to take it to the grave.

I was not at all surprised to see the headline

I put the paper down, I guess the only people I’ll tell about this are my children!