The Gray House Novels & Stories

He obviously heard when I had the nightmare, and maybe, just maybe I had mentioned Atticus’s name. I tried to navigate my thoughts back to the architecture of the house. What kind of house was crafted in such a weird way? Everything seemed off. The reflections doubled back on themself like it was deliberate, like something was hiding in plain sight. After I finished cleaning, I stayed tracing the glass, unsure of what exactly I was looking for. I wanted to stop, but I heard a faint hum behind like a vibration. Electronics. “Fuck.” I staggered back. What was happening? I leaned in to listen, but I heard footsteps.

After I returned home from traveling abroad, I found that our housekeeper had sued my husband and me. In court, she cradled her protruding belly and said with heart-wrenching anguish, "Gary and his wife are absolute scum! Under the guise of hiring a housekeeper, they lured me into their home, tied me to a bed, and abused me. "The child I'm carrying is Gary's!" Her mother, meanwhile, was sobbing uncontrollably. "Those two monsters have ruined my daughter's life. They deserve the death penalty!" No sooner had she spoken than a chorus of curses against my husband and me erupted from the gallery. "That scum is utterly brazen. He didn't even show up for the hearing! He must be punished sever

“It’s right here, actually. The main office.” I turned, and sure enough, there was a nondescript wooden door right behind where I was standing with a brass plaque that read Main Office in bold letters. Before I could say anything else, Gray brushed past me and unlocked the door with a key he had in his pocket. The door swung open to reveal, indeed, your typical office: a couple of desks, a computer, a standing lamp, some chairs, and a whole lot of filing cabinets. Still, I hesitated in the doorway, refusing to set foot in there. If Gray noticed, he seemed unbothered by my decision, and in fact whistled a tune as he unlocked another door leading to a closet at the back of the room.

After hearing him out, Daniel and I decided to drive home overnight. Before we left, Great-Uncle Harold added that once the spirit-bound blood disappeared, she would suffer retaliation from the infant’s soul. As for what kind of retaliation, he didn’t say. By the time we reached home, it was already past midnight. Once inside, we turned on the lights and found the sculpture in the northwest corner of the living room. We used a power saw to cut it open. Sure enough, at the base of the sculpture was a transparent sealed vial.

She followed a short lonely path that led to their house, as she contemplated her sisters. Hayley felt someone speed past her, but she wasn't sure, ignoring it, as she kept on moving. She was about to take a turn when she bumped into a gray-haired short woman with red eyes, and pale blue skin. She seemed like someone who had been wailing all her life. This old woman reiterated some indistinct words, glaring, and trying to scare the living daylights out of her.

I hated that Andrew noticed. "Four minutes and thirty-eight seconds." "Shut up." Daniel opened his door. We stepped out. --- 317 Blackthorn Road did not look sinister. That was disappointing. Some part of me expected iron gates. Gargoyles. Maybe lightning. Instead it looked like an old estate. Stone house. Three stories. Dark windows. Overgrown hedges. A long circular driveway partially covered in fallen leaves. No neighboring houses visible. Lucian stood near the entrance. His gun was still in his hand.

As long as she focused and listened to my thoughts, she would get the exact score. Then she would crush me in public and secure the Foster inheritance. She slowly closed her eyes and gathered her attention. In the dead silence that followed, Sophie began to hum again, completely out of control. "Darling, hold my hand... "Jet 2 holiday... save 50 pounds per person..." For one instant, the entire venue froze. The crowd before the Harborfront screens froze too. Then the live-stream detonated. [Help! She's doing it again! Classic jet 2 holiday returns!]

Just what I needed. “Has he spoken yet?” I asked, stopping by his side, my tone sharper than I’d planned. Harry swallowed, eyes flickering nervously. “There’s… been a mishap.” I clenched my jaw. “What mishap?” “Gray escaped.” He shifted his weight, avoiding my gaze. “He got out last night. We caught him on the CCTV footage leaving the premises. But we’re still trying to figure out who helped him. It looks like we’ve got a mole in the pack house.”

he answered, taking another sip of his wine. The weight of his words settled over me like a heavy blanket. Before I could process this disturbing information, the sound of a glass clinking caught everyone's attention. All heads turned in unison towards the stage where Mrs. Grey stood, a satisfied smile gracing her perfectly made-up face. "On behalf of my family and myself, we would like to thank you all for being here with us tonight," she began, her voice carrying easily through the hall. As Mrs. Grey continued her speech, my mind wandered. I couldn't shake the unease that Lucas's words had stirred in me. How could Damien live like this, constantly surrounded by potential enemies? And more

It was deserted. Gray changed gears as she slowly drove past the area, checking every house number as if looking for a certain residence. “Do you know someone here?” asked Zia, following where she was looking. “This place looks really spooky, like an abandoned village. Please tell me we’re not spending the night here.” She looked puppy-eyed at Gray. Dust blew around the car as Gray pulled over in front of a house. “Who’s in there?” asked Zia as she peered through the window.