The Haunting Of Bly Manor Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“It’s just through here.” Swinging open the door, Kate stepped aside, allowing Georgia to slowly shuffle into the spare bedroom. Red, swollen eyes drifted around the room, taking in the fluffy, black comforter thrown atop the twin bed, the antique lamp inherited from Kate’s grandmother centered on the mahogany nightstand and the small, hexagonal mirrors positioned above the gray headboard. Chewing her lower lip, Georgia stepped toward the neatly-organized bookshelf nestled in the corner, a pink acrylic nail brushing along the spine of one of the books. “The Haunting of Hill House,” she mumbled, nodding her head in approval. “Like the show?”

I stood frozen in the middle of the parking lot. The neon light from the nearby diner flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow over the asphalt. Bryan was leaning against his car, smiling and tossing that glowing silver eraser as if it were a common coin. He looked so normal, so safe. But the woman stepping out of the black car, the one who looked exactly like an older version of me, was anything but normal. She held the leather-bound book like a shield. On the cover, the words The Final Draft were written in gold that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

The rest of the busy room always seemed to blur into static whenever he looked at me that way. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Harmony suddenly gasped, her fingers tightening violently around her books. "Oh my God." I shifted my stance away from her. "What now?" She pointed a rigid finger toward the heavy book still sitting on the shelf between us. "The creepy history book." I followed her gesture, my pulse quickening slightly as I read the faded gold lettering on the spine: The Founding Families of Black Hollow. Right. The entire reason I had wandered over to this dusty section in the first place.

plush. I knew this data inside and out. I had read it so often, so often tried to reduce it to something simple. It never worked. Look, Gracy, the funny dog. I called it plush because it looks so plush. I gritted my teeth tightly and hit it again. Over and over again. In doing so, I tried not to think about that cruel day fifteen years ago, but kept recalling the facts to myself. The size, the weight, the appearance. But the thoughts became blurred and suddenly I heard the screams of the children, saw my mother who stormed into the garden, only to be torn down by one of these beasts. I saw my father again, who was trying to split the skulls of these monsters with a spade. But he had dealt wi

It no longer sounded entirely like Quinton. Unlike before, when smoke had drifted from his fingers, this time a thick white vapor poured from his hand. It twisted through the air like a living mist. A chill swept through the room. The chandelier trembled. The curtains began to move despite the windows being shut. My eyes widened. The book suddenly started flipping through its pages at an alarming speed. The pages turned so fast that they became a blur. Then the book lifted into the air by itself. I slowly stood. The room had become unnaturally silent. The book finally stopped at a single page and hovered above Damien's body. White smoke poured from the page as if something trapped inside the

With such a blank face, this man was talking to her about horror movies and ghost stories in a cemetery! Suddenly, she felt she was wrong about something. Today was not just an unlucky day for her; it was a disastrous day! Seeing Hailey’s pale face, Travis Blake’s anger instantly disappeared. “I think there’s something behind you,” he snapped. This made Hailey nervous. She found it difficult to breathe as goosebumps spread across her arms. She let out a scream and quickly wrapped all her limbs around Travis Blake’s body like a sticky octopus.

Summoning the confidence to look again, she found that the man had vanished. Raising her eyebrows, Clarissa let the camera sit on her neck and took in the eerie scene before her. It wasn't hard to see why the place was thought to be haunted. She had taken enough photographs. A few of them had to be worth putting in the book she was writing about the historical murders and the history of the island. Whilst busying herself flicking back through a few of them, she heard a voice. "Clarissa. Clarissa." Clarissa raised her head, wondering who could be calling her name out here at this time of the morning. The male voice sounded disembodied as it floated on the gentle, cooling breeze.

I turned the handle and stepped into the room. The study was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. A man in a dark grey jumpsuit was kneeling by the bookshelves, a section of the wall swung open like a heavy, wooden door. In his hand was a small, leather-bound book with a faded red spine. He froze, his eyes wide in the gloom. He looked at me—a girl in cashmere pants holding a frying pan—and for a second, he almost laughed. "You should have stayed in the library, Ghost," he whispered, reaching for a knife at his belt.

She started doing some enchantments but I quickly recovered from my shock and summoned a ball of red smoke and stopped her. I held her with one hand while the other hand summoned the Book of the Damned. It flipped on its own accord and opened a page that I’d never seen before. I wasn’t sure what it was about but Blair saw it and for the first time ever, there was genuine fear in her eyes as she whispered softly, “No.”

Amy said. “No way!” Burst from my lips and Amy got quiet again. “I didn’t mean that as I don’t believe you. I was just surprised.” “So was I when it happened,” Amy said. “When did it happen?” I had to know more. “The haunting started the day after you were at the manor with me for the tour,” Amy said. “Alfred was frightened by someone moving things around in the kitchen. Then Aaron was almost pushed down the stairs.” “That’s terrible,” I said. “Was he hurt?”