Alexis Duncan and her family move into a home once owned by an evil tyrant, and are blissfully unaware of the horrors that await them. Strange apparitions, orbs floating in the woods outside their windows, and frightening specters in their bedrooms are only the beginning.
Alexis alienates her hardcore boyfriend, Joe, and his cronies, after meeting a young man named Reed who understands the manifestation of ghostly occurrences. He sets out to save her from them and also from an insanely jealous Joe. He’ll kill to save her, even if it means losing Alexis in process.
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Gore Orphanage Road
Copyright © 2011 Lynn Hones
ISBN: 978-1-55487-832-1
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Smashwords Edition
Gore Orphanage Road
By
Lynn Hones
Dedication
To the gang in Vermilion.
Prologue
The story I’m about to tell is hard to believe, but God as my witness, it’s as true as the day is long. I remind myself of that fact every time I recall the events that changed my life and the life of my family—forever.
It’s only been a year since we moved into “the dream house,” and I’m trying to make sense out of…out of what?
Damned if I know.
The memories seem to be dimming. They’re not as bright, not as vivid and my broken heart is healing.
Life has a tendency to beat the crap out of you. Then you sit back, and like hearing an ice cream truck at midnight, shake your head and say, what the hell?
The jail food’s not so bad anymore. I guess I’m used to it. Believe it or not, the dry bread with the fake turkey slice and beige congealed gravy is my fave.
My trial starts in a couple of days, my stomach hurts and I want my mom.
Chapter One
“It’s beautiful, Kate. You’ll love it. It’s exactly what we’ve been looking for.” Dad turned to face Mom, his gaze intent, yet sweet.
“I don’t know.” Mom’s head swiveled as we passed quickly by the scenic countryside. “It’s so—far off the beaten track. Plus, these roads aren’t even paved. It’s hell getting around in rain like today. And—cripes, Lexie’s getting her license soon. I don’t want her…”
“Give it a chance,” Dad interrupted. “You’ll love it.”
I woke with a low-grade fever that fateful weekday morning, popped a few Ibuprofen and was good to go, but Mom felt it best I stay home from school.
The road rose and fell, turned and straightened, like a salsa dancer on speed and my achy head recoiled at the over-stimulation. Not only that, but Dad insisted the radio be tuned to 105 Jive, music from the sixties, seventies and eighties. For the love of all that is holy, why didn’t I just go to school?
After a few more minutes, Mom gazed at Dad and shot him an obviously forced, I told you so smile. “Okay, bucko. I’m done.” She turned and met my eyes, which I had opened from my fake sleep while kicking myself for thinking I stashed my iPod in my backpack, when it was on my nightstand.
“It’s too far away and you kids need to get to…” She didn’t finish her sentence due to Dad’s excited yell.
“Thar she blows.” He hit the brakes and we slowed in front of a dilapidated house. We, the none-to-willing occupants of the car, were silent for a moment. As if reading my mom’s mind, Dad reached over and squeezed her shoulder for assurance. “Please, keep an open mind, okay?”
“Okay, Captain Ahab. I’ll give it a go.”
My gaze traveled over the caved-in roof and broken windows of what used to be a stately residence but now resembled a backdrop for a 1950’s B horror film. I opened the backdoor and stretched my aching leg out.
Ousted from the car, my mother swept her arms in exaggerated effort and for the first time I noticed her wearing my A & B sweatshirt.
“Dan, I’m easygoing,” she whined, “but when I said I wanted a century home…and wouldn’t mind a fixer upper, I didn’t mean this.”
“Mom, jeesh, please.” I stared her down, like Clint Eastwood in a Spaghetti Western. “You didn’t put that stink-ass perfume on, did you? You’re wearing my sweatshirt again. What part of, leave my clothes alone, do you not understand?”