Staying At The castle (Original Horror Story)

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When the farmer pointed out the nearest motel in the area on the map, Maurice thought she was going to faint. She reclined in the small Jeep while her husband tried to get more information out of the farmer. She turned her head to observe the environment and that was when she saw it.

Her husband thanked the farmer, performed the sign of the cross, and prepared to continue their trip. He turned the key to start the Jeep but nothing happened. He gave a second attempt, got the same result and got out of the vehicle. He began to mutter a prayer under his breath while he dragged his leg through the sand, heading to the front of the vehicle.

Maurice slowly brought her huge frame out of the Jeep and trudged to meet him just as he opened the bonnet. She could read the anger on his face when he noticed her from the side of the car. She wondered if he was angry with her for delaying them or with himself for insisting they hit the road against popular advice. She rested her body by the side while she watched in silence as he fumbled with the engine.

After a few minutes of trial and error with no success, Maurice decided it was time to talk.

“I think..” She began.

“I know what you think.” Her husband replied almost immediately. He made a move to look at her and bumped his head against the opened bonnet.

Maurice tried to laugh but ended up feeling a sharp pain in her tummy. “I guess the car doesn’t agree with you” She managed to say. “Anyway, I think we should spend the night here,” She added.

She was already prepared for his objections. Before he could answer, she continued, “It seems like it’s going to rain. I don’t think you can get the car fixed before nightfall. How about we spend the night at that castle there.” She then pointed to the small cottage on the hill that had caught her fancy.

“Castle?”

“I was just teasing you. It’s probably not a castle. But we surely can spend the night there.”

Her husband looked at her and then at her stomach. At almost 8 months pregnant, she looked like she had a volley ball buried in her stomach. He had insisted they left Quaty Village because he was uncomfortable with the practices of the people there. The good Lord knows how much he struggled to keep himself undefiled. Now, he was wondering if he had made the right move. The road was no place for a pregnant woman to spend the night.

“Aright,” He said. “Let’s give it a try. Stay in the car while I go and see if the occupants could host us for the night.”

“Or you want to see if they are infidels unworthy of your holy presence.” Maurice replied as she began to walk towards the house. Following her recent conversion to atheism, she had no issue with staying with strangers based on their religion or lack of it. She wondered how her husband didn’t feel defiled being married to an atheist but had issues with even eating with pagans. “Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways,” She chuckled to herself as she left her husband without warning.

Slowly she trudged herself though the sand up the hill while her her husband set about to secure the car and meet her at the castle with the luggage. Castle, she smiled at the thought of it.

….….

“Maurice, we have to leave now!” her husband sounded, panting from the short sprint he had just engaged in. “Maurice!,” he called.

Maurice was in the bedroom, had heard her husband call but wasn’t ready to entertain his beliefs any longer. Besides she had fallen in love with the castle. It was just perfect. She was mostly intrigued by the picture of the young girl and the soldier. Was he her elder brother, uncle, boyfriend…

“Maurice, I said we have to leave now! This house is haunted.” Her husband announced just as he located her in the bedroom.

“Haunted?” Maurice struggled to contain her laughter. Suddenly she felt tired. She sat on the bed with the picture still in her hand. “I thought you have guardian angels watching you day and night. You have nothing to worry about.”

She had arrived the house to find it unoccupied. She then walked in through the open door and found the house in perfect condition. Well, they were going to wait till the occupants arrived. There was no going back to the car. Besides, the house had a calm feeling on her.

….…..

Maurice woke with a start. No, it wasn’t a dream. She heard the same harrowing sound again. Someone was in the house with them. She stared at her husband who was soundly asleep with the bible by his side. She was admiring how the moonlight from the open window illuminated the room she heard someone walk by.

She shifted her heavy frame and tried to wake her husband up. She called his name, shook him and even pulled his hands, all to no avail. He had always been a deep sleeper. She slowly pushed herself off the bed and fumbled in the dark for her slippers. The moonlight came from the window at her husbands side. At her end, there was nothing but darkness.

“Sorry baby,” she muttered as she lifted herself off the bed. She slowly groped along the room until she found the low desk where she had left her phone the previous night. While she fumbled for the power button, she heard the sound again. It was a song. The song slowly pieced through her soul. She looked at her husband as he snored soundly oblivious of anything.

She switched on her phone and turned on the flash light. It was then she noticed the picture again. It was just the girl this time, the solder was no longer in the picture. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Maybe it was another picture. Maybe she was just tired. Then she heard the song again.

Using the phone’s flash light she made her way into the living room only to find the girl in the picture sitting on the sofa, crying. It was then Maurice heard the words clearly. She sang of her lover who had gone off to war and promised to be back. Now he is back, but with a wife and a child. Maurice moved closer to see her clearly. The girl stood up, walked towards the kitchen and continued singing.

When Maurice got to the kitchen, she froze in her tracks. The girl staring coldly at her was singing a new song.

Kill the mother
Kill the father
Kill the baby

Maurice hand instantly went for her stomach. She turned to move but found herself stuck. She began to tremble violently and tears began to trickle down her eyes. Surely there was a mistake. Her husband wasn’t the girl’s lover. They had grown and spent their entire lives together.

The girl picked up a bread knife from a rack and began to approach Maurice. With each footstep, the knife began to drip blood. Maurice noticed something wet on her stomach. No! Not her baby. Not her own baby. She tried to scream but no words came out of her mouth.

….…..

“Maurice! Maurice!” Her husband called, pulling her out of her reverie. Maurice instantly looked around and noticed she was still in the Jeep. The farmer had just finished narrating the legend of the girl whose lover returned from the war with another woman who was pregnant for him. The girl had stabbed the woman in the kitchen with a bread knife, killing both the unborn child and the woman. Her lover then killed her and killed himself.

She placed her two hands on the stomach, still realing from her experience, half expecting to feel blood. Her husband looked at her with concern.

“Are you…”

“Just drive away from here,” she screamed.

This story was inpired when I read @elenahornfilm latest visit to Pizzino in Italy and the legend they were told there. I made some modification to the story. It’s my first attempt at writing a horror story.

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