Storm House Part 1 (1200 Words)

[Duchessprozac]

This is the first part of a short story, I have just finished, so it's not entirely polished but I am looking for some critique on it to make sure I'm going in the right direction.

Storm House was a dark and dreary place. Even in the middle of summer, on its brightest and hottest days, something about the house seemed foreboding but no one could quite explain why. Perhaps it was the grey, weatherbeaten exterior that seemed to draw in the light, perhaps it was the imposing loft that rose above the rest of the house like a church steeple and cast its shadow in awkward shapes when the sun began to set.


Rumours about the occupants of the house were rife amongst the children of the nearby town. Some said a mad old witch lived there and would fly into town every ten years on All Hallow's Eve and steal away a child from their bed whilst they slept. Others proclaimed the house was empty, merely inhabited by the ghosts of a family who were murdered there by their puritanical and cruel mother. None of the children were ever brave enough to venture near the house however; they were too afraid that the shadow of its lonely steeple would swallow them and drag them to some unimaginable realm where they would be unable to escape.


Of course, Lucion DeShawn was unaware of such morbid speculation. Lucion was a lean young man with long, sleak black hair and a piercing in his eyebrow. He had read about the house on the internet where a local estate agent was advertising it for sale. Lucion was a sucker for the weird and, Lucion thought, things didn't get much weirder than this house.


The first inkling he had there was something wrong with the house was when he pulled over to ask for directions. It was an old man about 75 that he had stopped, he was wearing a worn tweed trilby a greyish white shirt and brown trousers held up by rainbow bracers.


“Excuse me,” Lucion had said, the old man turned to face him, a look of confusion on his white whiskered face, “I'm wondering if you could help me?”


Lucion had to strain his ears to understand the man's accent over the top of the car's engine. “Oi'll see wut oi c'n do, yun'sir.”


“I'm looking for Storm House, do you know where abouts it is?”


The old man's face dropped in and a look of fear crossed his watery blue eyes. “You dun' wan' go near thar huse.”


“I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the engine.” replied Lucion, lying.


The old man spoke up and pronounced his words in a clearer voice, “ Oi said, you don' wan' go near that place, youn' sir. Some bad things up there.”


Oh great, some old kook whose been too busy on the cider all ready, thought Lucion. “ Listen, I am interested in buying the house and I have a visit there in,” he looked to his watch, “about fifteen minutes, and I would appreciate it if you could direct me there.”


“I's your funeral, pal.” The old man said in his thickest vernacular before giving out a sigh and pointing Lucion in the direction of the house.


Lucion's thoughts when he arrived at the house was how different it looked in real life. The online photos really didn't do it justice, the house seemed more crooked and the over grown garden seemed to lack any colour where the foreboding shadow of the house cast over it


“Pretty weird, eh?” Came a voice from behind him Lucion turned to see who it was. It was a pretty young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed in a smart black skirt suit, “Just wait until you see inside.”


Lucion said nothing, “I'm Karen Houston, from the estate agents.” She walked up to Lucion and shook his hand, “ Are you ready to go inside?”


“I can't wait.” relied Lucion.


The inside of the house was certainly stranger than the outside, the rooms seemed to sit at strange angles, although when Lucion followed the lines he ended up baffled as they ran perfectly into each other. “How long has the house been empty?” Lucion asked, his words bouncing off the bare walls like a rubber ball


“About two years now, the previous owner died and we haven't been able to shift the place since. I guess it's just too weird for some people.”


“I like weird.”


Karen walked over to a window and looked out, “ I kind of guessed. You're the first person to show any interest in this place since it came onto the market. We were thinking of knocking twenty grand of the asking price, just to entice a few more people in.”


Lucion laughed, “I'll remember that when it comes to putting in my offer.” He walked from the lounge into a small windowless hallway. It was pitch black save for the light coming from the lounge doorway and Lucion felt a little claustrophobic as he stepped into the dark. He reached out his right hand to feel for the wall and as he stepped through the dark he felt a door. He reached for the handle and gave it pull: It was locked. “ What's in this room?” he called out, he noticed his voice seemed to be doused out in the darkness.


No Reply.


The claustrophobia came on Lucion quickly and he could swear the darkness grew on him, wrapping itself around him like a blanket, Lucion closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing under control but he was losing the fight quickly, then as suddenly as the feeling came it was broken when a distant and muffled voice found its way through to him.”Mister.DeShawn?” It was Karen.


“I'm in the hallway.” He replied, trying his hardest to keep his breathing normal.


“I thought I'd lost you for a second.” She replied as she walked through to meet him from one of the bedrooms.


“No, I'm still right here.” He turned once more to the locked door, “What's in this room?”


“You know, I really don't know. We were never given a key for that room.”


Lucion reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. “ What are you doing?” Asked Karen.


“I'm taking a look in there.” and with that he pulled out a credit card and slid it between the lock and the door frame and popped the lock open. “Piece of cake.” He proclaimed with a smile.


Lucion opened the door cautiously and Karen grasped a hold of his arm.


Darkness. Lucion reached into his pocket and pulled out an old zippo lighter with a pentacle emblazoning its sides and lit it, the dim light blinded both of them for a second before revealing a bare wooden staircase leading down.”It's just a cellar.”

[chrispenycate]

[/quote][quote]

Originally Posted by Duchessprozac

This is the first part of a short story, I have just finished, so it's not entirely polished but I am looking for some critique on it to make sure I'm going in the right direction.

Storm House was a dark and dreary place. Even in the middle of summer, on its brightest and hottest days, something about the house seemed foreboding but no one could quite explain why. Perhaps it was the grey, weatherbeaten exterior that seemed to draw in the light, perhaps it was the imposing loft that rose above the rest of the house like a church steeple and cast its shadow in awkward shapes when the sun began to set.


Rumours about the occupants of the house were rife amongst the children of the nearby town. Some said a mad old witch lived there and would fly into town every ten years on All Hallow's Eve and steal away a child from their bed whilst they slept. Others proclaimed the house was empty, merely inhabited by the ghosts of a family who were

"who had been", but it might be easier to leave out the "who were" altogether

murdered there by their puritanical and cruel mother. None of the children were ever brave enough to venture near the house however; they were too afraid that the shadow of its lonely steeple would swallow them and drag them to some unimaginable realm

"from where"? just a suggestion

where they would be unable to escape.


Of course, Lucion DeShawn was unaware of such morbid speculation. Lucion was a lean young man with long, sleak

black hair and a piercing in his eyebrow. He had read about the house on the internet where a local estate agent was advertising it for sale. Lucion was a sucker for the weird and, Lucion thought, things didn't get much weirder than this house.


The first inkling he had there was something wrong with the house was when he pulled over to ask for directions. It was an old man about 75 that he had stopped, he was wearing a worn tweed trilby a greyish white shirt and brown trousers held up by rainbow bracers.

For me (though my dictionary won't confirm or reject, it's "braces"; and I would suggest rewriting the last sentence (perhaps starting "He had stopped aman of about seventy-five, wearing a worn…"

“Excuse me,” Lucion had said, the old man turned to face him, a look of confusion on his white whiskered face, “I'm wondering if you could help me?”


Lucion had to strain his ears to understand the man's accent over the top

perhaps without "the top of"?

of the car's engine. “Oi'll see wut oi c'n do, yun'sir.”


“I'm looking for Storm House, do you know where abouts it is?”


The old man's face dropped

possibly "fell in"

in and a look of fear crossed his watery blue eyes. “You dun' wan' go near thar huse.”


“I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the engine.” replied Lucion, lying.


The old man spoke up and pronounced his words in a clearer voice, “ Oi said, you don' wan' go near that place, youn' sir. Some bad things up there.”


Oh great, some old kook whose been too busy on the cider all ready

already

, thought Lucion. “ Listen, I am interested in buying the house and I have a visit there in,” he looked to his watch, “about fifteen minutes, and I would appreciate it if you could direct me there.”


“I's your funeral, pal.” The old man said in his thickest vernacular before giving out a sigh and pointing Lucion in the direction of the house.


Lucion's thoughts when he arrived at the house was

were

how different it looked in real life. The online photos really didn't do it justice, the house seemed more crooked and the over grown

overgrown

garden seemed to lack any colour where the foreboding shadow of the house

"fell over it"? "was cast over it"?

cast over it


“Pretty weird, eh?” Came a voice from behind him

full stop

Lucion turned to see who it was. It was a pretty young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed in a smart black skirt suit, “Just wait until you see inside.”


Lucion said nothing, “I'm Karen Houston, from the estate agents.” She walked up to Lucion and shook his hand, “ Are you ready to go inside?”


“I can't wait.” relied Lucion.


The inside of the house was certainly stranger than the outside,

semicolon

the rooms seemed to sit at strange angles, although when Lucion followed the lines he ended up baffled as they ran perfectly into each other. “How long has the house been empty?” Lucion asked, his words bouncing off the bare walls like a rubber ball


“About two years now,

full stop

the previous owner died and we haven't been able to shift the place since. I guess it's just too weird for some people.”


“I like weird.”


Karen walked over to a window and looked out, “ I kind of guessed. You're the first person to show any interest in this place since it came onto the market. We were thinking of knocking twenty grand of the asking price, just to entice a few more people in.”


Lucion laughed, “I'll remember that when it comes to putting in my offer.” He walked from the lounge into a small windowless hallway. It was pitch black save for the light coming from the lounge doorway and Lucion felt a little claustrophobic as he stepped into the dark. He reached out his right hand to feel for the wall and as he stepped through the dark he felt a door. He reached for the handle and gave it pull: It was locked. “ What's in this room?” he called out, he noticed his voice seemed to be doused out in the darkness.


No Reply.


The claustrophobia came on Lucion quickly and he could swear the darkness grew on him, wrapping itself around him like a blanket,

full stop

Lucion closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing under control but he was losing the fight quickly, then

"when" rather than "then" perhaps? I don't feel this sentence as it stands transmit the panic, folowed by the immediate let down. Niether did I hear the door shut behind him when he walked through, the only way it would have got that dark that quickly.

as suddenly as the feeling came it was broken when a distant and muffled voice found its way through to him.”Mister.DeShawn?” It was Karen.


“I'm in the hallway.” He replied, trying his hardest to keep his breathing normal.


“I thought I'd lost you for a second.” She replied as she walked through to meet him from one of the bedrooms.


“No, I'm still right here.” He turned once more to the locked door, “What's in this room?”


“You know, I really don't know. We were never given a key for that room.”


Lucion reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. “ What are you doing?” Asked Karen.


“I'm taking a look in there.” and with that he pulled out a credit card and slid it between the lock and the door frame and popped the lock open. “Piece of cake.” He proclaimed with a smile.


Lucion opened the door cautiously and Karen grasped a hold of his arm.


Darkness. Lucion reached into his pocket and pulled out an old zippo lighter with a pentacle emblazoning its sides and lit it,

full stop

the dim light blinded both of them for a second before revealing a bare wooden staircase leading down.”It's just a cellar.”