Prologue
It was a cool October night in 1979, Mannheim, in Germany and peace surrounded the log house which lay just out of the city. The house had been built by Yohan Donda who lived with his wife Michelle and their son Hayrak. Hayrak, a child who was barely two was in a deep sleep. He was wrapped up in his own dreams. His parents were in the kitchen drinking warm spirits. They were casually discussing what it was like when they were children. They never knew what would happen to Hayrak. They thought they did, but barely noticed the curtains gently blowing over the flame of the candle. For a minute, there was silence. Then Yohan said,
‘I suppose that my brothers and sisters found me quite funny.’
‘You never tried to make people laugh, that was the beauty of it.’ said Michelle. ‘Probably one of the reasons why I married you.’
‘You still surprise me. Maybe our son will share the same sense of humour.’
‘You think so? I never really laughed at myself,’ replied Yohan.
‘I wonder if...’ she glanced past Yohan, and screamed. White hot flames were burning the curtains.
‘Stay calm - get some water from the well!’ yelled Yohan.
Michelle rushed out to get some water, Yohan followed.
She threw some water over the curtains. The fire was nearly out. As she was rushing out again, Yohan heard an earsplitting bang, saw her jolt - and freeze. She collapsed to the floor. Dead.
‘Noooo!!’
His voice stopped as soon the second shot rang out, shaking the ground.
Across the English Channel, one man woke up with a fright!
‘I suppose that my brothers and sisters found me quite funny.’
‘You never tried to make people laugh, that was the beauty of it.’ said Michelle. ‘Probably one of the reasons why I married you.’
‘You still surprise me. Maybe our son will share the same sense of humour.’
‘You think so? I never really laughed at myself,’ replied Yohan.
‘I wonder if...’ she glanced past Yohan, and screamed. White hot flames were burning the curtains.
‘Stay calm - get some water from the well!’ yelled Yohan.
Michelle rushed out to get some water, Yohan followed.
She threw some water over the curtains. The fire was nearly out. As she was rushing out again, Yohan heard an earsplitting bang, saw her jolt - and freeze. She collapsed to the floor. Dead.
‘Noooo!!’
His voice stopped as soon the second shot rang out, shaking the ground.
Across the English Channel, one man woke up with a fright!
Chapter One
Hayrak sat shaking in bed, the movies playing over and over in his head. His face was streaked with tears. He felt something move on his left. His wife got out of bed and turned on the lamplight. Immediately she wrapped her arms round him. It was like she knew what he was thinking, and she was so warm and comforting. However, across in the other bed, two other people were waking up. Liam and his wife Sarah shared the same room.
‘What’s going on?’ said Liam, groggily.
‘Hayrak just had a nightmare,’ said Hayda. Hayrak was still shivering.
‘Go on,’ pressed Liam.
‘I miss my parents,’ said Hayrak slowly and steadily.
Hayda looked down and shook her head. Liam frowned.
‘Why don’t you phone them?’ asked Liam.
Hayda leaned towards Liam and whispered something in his ear.
‘Ah... Well - um, just don’t worry.’
‘Hayrak,’ said Hayda. ‘There was nothing you could do about it. Dreaming about it won’t bring them back. Forget about the past. Forget about it. You have me, and our beautiful son. We are family.’
‘Yeah, I guess I’m just being stupid.’ said Hayrak, wiping off tears. ‘But why did I dream about it tonight? Out of most of the nights in my life?’
‘Things just happen like that,’ answered Hayda simply.
‘Yeah, about two months ago while I was searching through a burnt house, - I suddenly remembered my father,’ said Sarah.
Hayda snuggled up to Hayrak. Hayrak glanced at her perfect black hair and her clear watery blue eyes.
‘I was seven years old at the time,’ began Sarah. ‘I lived at the abandoned old house - Railway House, round the corner with my mum, dad and my two younger sisters Helen and Gemma...’
‘What’s going on?’ said Liam, groggily.
‘Hayrak just had a nightmare,’ said Hayda. Hayrak was still shivering.
‘Go on,’ pressed Liam.
‘I miss my parents,’ said Hayrak slowly and steadily.
Hayda looked down and shook her head. Liam frowned.
‘Why don’t you phone them?’ asked Liam.
Hayda leaned towards Liam and whispered something in his ear.
‘Ah... Well - um, just don’t worry.’
‘Hayrak,’ said Hayda. ‘There was nothing you could do about it. Dreaming about it won’t bring them back. Forget about the past. Forget about it. You have me, and our beautiful son. We are family.’
‘Yeah, I guess I’m just being stupid.’ said Hayrak, wiping off tears. ‘But why did I dream about it tonight? Out of most of the nights in my life?’
‘Things just happen like that,’ answered Hayda simply.
‘Yeah, about two months ago while I was searching through a burnt house, - I suddenly remembered my father,’ said Sarah.
Hayda snuggled up to Hayrak. Hayrak glanced at her perfect black hair and her clear watery blue eyes.
‘I was seven years old at the time,’ began Sarah. ‘I lived at the abandoned old house - Railway House, round the corner with my mum, dad and my two younger sisters Helen and Gemma...’
Chapter Two
It was a grey, rainy afternoon in 1977 and Sarah was looking out of her window. Her parents said that she couldn’t play with her friend Kate because of the rain, so she was looking out of the window at the rain, willing it to stop. She sighed as she heard the roll of thunder.
‘Supper’s ready!!’ screeched her mother from downstairs. ‘Come and wash your hands for supper!’
Her sisters raced downstairs from the other room to the cloakroom. Sarah rushed down after them. They locked the door and giggled. ‘Little buggers’ Sarah muttered to herself. She waited outside for the girls to finish.
‘Hurry up your tea’s ready!’ shouted her mother from the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the family were sat around the table in the gloomy dining room. Dark grey clouds rolled across the sky outside. The mother, Penny sat at the head of the table wearing her white apron. She had red hair, brown eyes and wore a red stripy dress.
Sarah and Helen didn’t look too different from their mother. They had ginger-blond hair and the same colour eyes. Gemma had black hair. She thought that this made her special. The father Alex sat at the foot of the table. He had wiry grey hair and wore weird lenses which made his eyes look large. He wore a white shirt and a patchy grey apron. He was a scientist and owned a lab, through a doorway at the other end of the room.
‘Let’s say grace,’ said Alex. He mumbled the blessing to the floor.
That night, Sarah lay awake watching the rain patter against her window in the light of the streetlamp. It had been a dull Sunday.
She heard a bump from below. She pulled the covers over her head and pressed her fingers against her ears. Sarah had a fear of ghosts. Her family had laughed at her and called her a wimp. But now this was nothing compared to her fear. There was a low, dry creak. She sat up. Her old grey cat was not at the bottom of her bed.
Slowly and steadily, she crept downstairs. The darkness was so intense, it seemed to be pressing on her eyeballs. She went through the gloomy dining room. Black clouds were churning in the sky outside like a boiling pot and rain was smattering against the windows.
Carefully, she slid open the creaky heavy bolts. Then she raised the latch and the door opened making a groaning sound.
The lights were on in the lab. She edged through the doorway. And saw something that made her heart stop.
Her father was lying on the floor. Cold, and long dead.
The cat was standing over the corpse, silent and staring.
‘Dad? Dad!!’
‘Supper’s ready!!’ screeched her mother from downstairs. ‘Come and wash your hands for supper!’
Her sisters raced downstairs from the other room to the cloakroom. Sarah rushed down after them. They locked the door and giggled. ‘Little buggers’ Sarah muttered to herself. She waited outside for the girls to finish.
‘Hurry up your tea’s ready!’ shouted her mother from the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the family were sat around the table in the gloomy dining room. Dark grey clouds rolled across the sky outside. The mother, Penny sat at the head of the table wearing her white apron. She had red hair, brown eyes and wore a red stripy dress.
Sarah and Helen didn’t look too different from their mother. They had ginger-blond hair and the same colour eyes. Gemma had black hair. She thought that this made her special. The father Alex sat at the foot of the table. He had wiry grey hair and wore weird lenses which made his eyes look large. He wore a white shirt and a patchy grey apron. He was a scientist and owned a lab, through a doorway at the other end of the room.
‘Let’s say grace,’ said Alex. He mumbled the blessing to the floor.
That night, Sarah lay awake watching the rain patter against her window in the light of the streetlamp. It had been a dull Sunday.
She heard a bump from below. She pulled the covers over her head and pressed her fingers against her ears. Sarah had a fear of ghosts. Her family had laughed at her and called her a wimp. But now this was nothing compared to her fear. There was a low, dry creak. She sat up. Her old grey cat was not at the bottom of her bed.
Slowly and steadily, she crept downstairs. The darkness was so intense, it seemed to be pressing on her eyeballs. She went through the gloomy dining room. Black clouds were churning in the sky outside like a boiling pot and rain was smattering against the windows.
Carefully, she slid open the creaky heavy bolts. Then she raised the latch and the door opened making a groaning sound.
The lights were on in the lab. She edged through the doorway. And saw something that made her heart stop.
Her father was lying on the floor. Cold, and long dead.
The cat was standing over the corpse, silent and staring.
‘Dad? Dad!!’
Chapter Three
“I never saw my father again. Our family moved to Ireland and that’s where I’ve been living for most of my life.” There was a long silence.
“Do you have any stories to tell, Hayda?” asked Liam.
There was a brief look of surprise in her eyes.
‘I have one,’ began Hayda. She paused and eyed everyone in the room.
‘It was when I was young. As you know I was neglected by my parents...’
It was a clear night at the Chateau de Loral in France. There was a full moon, glowing in the sky. The banquet hall was still and quiet, flooded with moonlight and shadows were thrown across the floor. It had a stillness like the surface of a lake, the peace not even disturbed by the cry of an owl.
Then, the peace was disturbed.
A light was coming down the stairs. This light came from a candle. The candle was being held by a young girl, probably only ten years old. She was tiny and was wearing a white nightdress. She had long black hair.
She sneaked down the stairs and looked around to see if anyone was there. Carefully, she tiptoed across the vast floor, reflected in the gold framed mirror into one of the turrets. A moment later, she returned with a box.
It was an eerie pause. She opened the box and looked up.
She opened her mouth.
A shrill song drifted out of her mouth, which seemed to cut through the dead silence and float through the night air. Her eyes were livid and staring ahead, and she was standing perfectly still.
There was a noise from nearby. Her father was creeping out from behind the curtains. He could see the girl standing there, just ahead of the stairs. She was looking directly at him.
‘No!’
He clasped his hands to his ears.
A twenty year old Hayda shivered and looked down.
‘Hayda?’ said Liam. She didn’t answer.
‘Hayda! Snap out of it!’
‘Oh sorry. I was just tired.’ She gave a fake yawn.
All eyes turned to Liam.
‘So. Have you got any stories you would be delighted in telling us?’
‘Er... Actually I haven’t, but I think it’s best to forget about the past.’
THE END
“Do you have any stories to tell, Hayda?” asked Liam.
There was a brief look of surprise in her eyes.
‘I have one,’ began Hayda. She paused and eyed everyone in the room.
‘It was when I was young. As you know I was neglected by my parents...’
It was a clear night at the Chateau de Loral in France. There was a full moon, glowing in the sky. The banquet hall was still and quiet, flooded with moonlight and shadows were thrown across the floor. It had a stillness like the surface of a lake, the peace not even disturbed by the cry of an owl.
Then, the peace was disturbed.
A light was coming down the stairs. This light came from a candle. The candle was being held by a young girl, probably only ten years old. She was tiny and was wearing a white nightdress. She had long black hair.
She sneaked down the stairs and looked around to see if anyone was there. Carefully, she tiptoed across the vast floor, reflected in the gold framed mirror into one of the turrets. A moment later, she returned with a box.
It was an eerie pause. She opened the box and looked up.
She opened her mouth.
A shrill song drifted out of her mouth, which seemed to cut through the dead silence and float through the night air. Her eyes were livid and staring ahead, and she was standing perfectly still.
There was a noise from nearby. Her father was creeping out from behind the curtains. He could see the girl standing there, just ahead of the stairs. She was looking directly at him.
‘No!’
He clasped his hands to his ears.
A twenty year old Hayda shivered and looked down.
‘Hayda?’ said Liam. She didn’t answer.
‘Hayda! Snap out of it!’
‘Oh sorry. I was just tired.’ She gave a fake yawn.
All eyes turned to Liam.
‘So. Have you got any stories you would be delighted in telling us?’
‘Er... Actually I haven’t, but I think it’s best to forget about the past.’
THE END
