Today is the part 1 of my new serial Grisham House. There are 12 parts so there will be an episode every day up until Christmas Eve. Grisham House is a Bronte-inspired story. I read all the Bronte books as a young teen. Wuthering Heights holds a special place in my heart, but I wanted to try and include elements from each of the sisters for my story. I used a number of themes, the weather and atmosphere from Wuthering Heights along with the unrequited love as well as the spiritual and supernatural themes from Jane Eyre. The orphan theme is also included in my story Grisham House. I wanted to create a strong female character that overcomes judgement and hardship. I hope I have done them justice in my story Grisham House. Below is the blurb and part 1 of the story.

Grisham House Blurb

Punished for her rebellious nature, seventeen-year-old Catherine Howard is sent to Grisham House, a place her feminist mother insists will show her how lucky she is. But Grisham House holds a dark secret as well as a handsome young owner that Catherine can’t resist.

Forced to become a servant and learn the ways of those less fortunate, Catherine soon discovers that all is not as it seems. Girls disappear and screams pierce the silent darkness. A figure in white runs through the gardens at night.

Catherine is desperate to discover the truth but the tyrannical housekeeper, Ms Peckham watches. Can Catherine find out what’s really happening at Grisham House before the next victim is claimed?

Grisham House Part 1

My parents ruined my life. Sneaking out to Stacey’s party and getting caught in an awkward position with Lloyd Peters wasn’t my brightest idea, but the punishment – ridiculous. I mean, take my phone and internet privileges away, ground me for a month, whatever, but sending me off to the middle of nowhere?

It’s all Mom’s fault. Her and her latest feminist kick. I can still hear it. “Catherine Jane Howard, you have no idea how lucky you are. Women fought to give you what you have today.” I’d rolled my eyes as she went on and on about the right to vote, to get a decent job, college etc.

“You’re going to learn though, isn’t she, Bob?”

Dad leaned against the countertop, meek as always, and let her dish out the punishment. I’d stood my ground at first, my stubbornness and defiant nature shining through, but Mom couldn’t be swayed. I turned my attention to Dad, begged and pleaded with him, but it didn’t work either. “Your mother knows best,” he said. Yeah right. I doubt it. Anyway, that’s how I ended up being sent to Grisham House. Three hours sat in the back of a black car with old Mr Sykes, the creepy driver for company. Not that he was company at all, he barely spoke.

Green fields and hills rolled by the windows as we drove through the countryside late in the evening. It was only when we turned off after Braidsend that everything changed. My phone lost signal and the green I’d been admiring turned to a murky grey and black. Everything looked dead. A mist hugged the top of the blackened hills and it wasn’t long before a thick fog descended engulfing the car and my view. How Sykes saw where he was going, I’ve no idea. Even the radio went quiet, static rattling through the vehicle.

We turned up a dirt road. At least that’s what I presumed. The car bounced and bumped along. The fog blocked any moonlight from breaking through as did the thick spruce trees either side of the road. I pulled out my phone. No service, not even one bar. Frustrated I threw it on the seat and folded my arms.

“You’ll not be using that thing while you’re here missy.”

It was the first thing Mr Sykes had said since he bundled me into the car at Pensworth station. Mom has dropped me off on her way to some women’s group or other. She tried wrapping me in a hug and telling me it was all for my own good, but I shrugged her off and turned on my heel.

“No need for them around these parts,” he continued.

I could barely make out his small beady eyes in the rearview mirror, but I was sure I saw a sneer on his face. I huffed, refusing to answer. If Mom thought she was going to win this one, she was mistaken. Give it a day and I’d have them packing my bags and sending me home.

The car jostled as we continued to drive. Rain bashed against the windows and a howling wind seemed to circle the car. I shivered in the backseat as the lights cast an eerie shadow through the fog. Huge iron gates rose up in front of us, and I could just about make out the outline of a stone wall stretching into nothingness. It towered above like a prison I couldn’t escape. It’ll only be for a day. You can survive this.

Sykes got out and opened the gates, drove the car through and got out to close them again. The car wound its way slowly up the lane, clawed tree branches reached out as I peered through the window. The wind and rain continued to batter the black carriage taking me to my punishment.

We crawled to a stop and lights flickered to life around us, revealing the house. A monster in the darkness, tall, gloomy, and uninviting.

Stone steps led up to the front door. They cracked and crumbled under my feet. The rain soaked my hair and left it stuck to my face, but the wind, that was something else. It shrieked in my ears, piercing screams of impending doom, and if I hadn’t been dragging my suitcase behind me, I’d have clamped my hands over them. Anything to shut it out.

The small porch at the front door gave a little reprieve but the light above it allowed my eyes to scan my surroundings. The tired red paint and tarnished brass on the front door left an impression I didn’t want to linger on. Where have they sent me? It’s more like a run-down creepy mansion than a…What had Mom called this place? She hadn’t used the word reform, no, academy was her term. Perhaps it was because night had fallen but I sure as hell didn’t feel like I was entering an academy.

Sykes lifted the lion’s head door knocker and it slammed loudly against the cracked wood. Paint chips fell to the ground. Three times he slammed the bloody thing and with each resounding boom I jumped.

The door creaked open, slowly, inch by inch and I imagined all sorts of beings behind it. A staunch faced woman in her late forties or fifties poked her head out. She was dressed in a black skirt and jacket, white shirt, and her dark hair pinned up neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck. A bit of makeup wouldn’t go astray.

“Your latest recruitment,” Sykes said, almost bowing in front of her.

“Cathy,” I said, pushing my way past into the hallway.

Sykes chuckled behind me and the door slammed.

“Wait here,” the woman said, her tone harsh, before disappearing into the room to my right.

I stood shifting my weight from foot to foot. The dark hallway was dominated by a staircase that branched off to the left and right. Fancy. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling above and I imagined it crashing to the floor, shattering glass shards everywhere. It wasn’t lit. In fact, there were no ceiling lights on. A table lamp on the mahogany sideboard casts the only light. I was tempted to reach my hand out to the light switches and flick them all on, see exactly where my mother had sent be. I didn’t though. Rooms branched off the main hallway but as far as I could tell, they were all closed. The house was too quiet and there was no sign of that woman returning.

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That’s it for part 1. I’ll hope you’ll come back tomorrow to read part 2. It’s such a joy to be able to share some of my stories here on my blog and if you have any comments, please feel free to pop them in the comments box below.

Until next time,

Keep reading and writing,

Amanda