Daddy Won't Kill You- The Haunting in the Woods Read online

  Daddy Won’t Kill You

  The Haunting in the Woods

  Caroline Clark

  CazClark.com

  Contents

  Dead Man’s Chair

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  The Haunting of Seafield House – Preview.

  The Sacrifice – The Ghosts of RedRise House Preview

  More Books from Caroline Clark

  About the Author

  Dead Man’s Chair

  Like many of my books this one has a base in fact. Haunted objects have fascinated me since I was a child and the Dead Man’s Chair is one that I could never forget.

  This book came about when I found an old rocking chair. It was so creepy that I just had to write about it. I don’t think the chair was haunted... but who knows. It certainly gave me the willies

  Once I had the idea about the chair I researched haunted objects and came upon the story of Busby’s chair or as it is better known The Dead Man’s Chair.

  In 1702 Thirsk, Yorkshire, England Thomas Busby was executed for the murder of his father-in-law Daniel Auty. It is said he strangled the man after an argument, some say about his favorite chair, others that it was about their criminal activities.

  Busby was to be executed by an inn which later changed its name to the Busby Stoop Inn. It is said that he asked for one last drink in his favorite chair. Just before he got up from the chair he cursed all who dare sit in the chair to an untimely death.

  Busby was then hung, tarred, and strung up in an iron gibbet — but his story doesn’t end there.

  It is said that anyone who sat in the chair would die soon after. It remained in the pub for many years.

  It is said that airmen from a nearby base would dare each other to sit in the chair. They say those that did never returned from war.

  In 1967 two RAF pilots were dared to sit in the chair. Thinking it just a legend and being young men full of bravado they did. They died, after their car crashed into a tree on the way back to the base.

  Other notable events are a builder who sat in the chair and then fell through a roof he was working on and was killed. It is even said that a cleaning lady fell on the chair and later died of a brain tumor.

  A chimney sweep who sat in the chair was found the following morning hung on a post next to a mockup of the gibbet.

  Two airmen who visited the pub and both sat in the chair got separated. One left the other and went back to his bed. The man left behind was so angry that when he got back to the base he beat his friend to death with a brick.

  These are just some of the tales the chair has to tell us.

  The chair was put in the cellar of the pub to save lives but it hadn’t finished yet. A delivery driver inadvertently sat down to rest. It was a little over an hour later when he died after crashing his truck.

  The landlord of the pub had now had enough. He asked the local museum to take the chair and they agreed to do so. To keep people safe they strung the chair from the roof and suspended it five feet above the ground.

  I hope you enjoyed this true story and that it will add to your enjoyment of the book below.

  “Evil lasts, evil stains, evil is eternal.”

  ― Caroline Clark

  Receive a number of free horror short stories when you join my newsletter. I will keep you informed of my new releases, give you a chance of free books and giveaways, and send you horror related items. Join here http://CazClark.com

  Prologue

  Dusk fell quickly around a lonely, dilapidated cottage. It brought a feeling of depression to the day, as if a dirty blanket was being dropped over something best left hidden. The windless air disturbed nothing and a preternatural quiet surrounded the property. It was almost like the world held its breath, waiting for this moment to pass.

  Strangled weeds pushed through a worn path which led from the house and terminated at the road. A crumbling gatepost leaned away from the path, and a tatter of yellow crime scene tape hung forlornly from the pitted concrete. Behind the post, a removal van hulked at the curb. Its carnivorous doors were open and waited hungrily for the remnants of life that it would swallow whole and regurgitate far from here.

  A crow cawed, a desperate and lonely sound, from somewhere behind the cottage. The tattered screen door was shoved open by a man in dark overalls. He pushed through with his back, a small table clutched in his hands. Maneuvering around the small door and easing the chair through the frame, he stepped toward the path. Behind him, a second workman exited the house. This one carried a wooden rocking chair, held away from his body as if it was distasteful, unclean. His dark brown eyes flicked from the chair to the cottage and back again, as sweat slowly traced a line down the stubble on his cheek.

  He wanted to put it down, to run from here and spend the rest of the night in a scorching shower, but he could not show his fear, and stoically followed his colleague.

  The men arrived at the van, and the table was worked into the last remaining space, between boxes, an old-fashioned dresser, a bed, and other furniture that all appeared to come from a different era. Nervous glances passed between them as they realized the rocker wouldn’t fit. They looked at the property, silhouetted in the dark, and back at the van.

  Sitting on the roof of the cottage, a large, ink-black crow cawed out a challenge. Before the men, the chair rocked on the concrete.

  They stepped back, one toward the van, the other away. Both eyed the chair warily. Their job was to clear the property, but darkness was falling and they wouldn’t come back.

  The first man, the younger of the two, reached behind him and pulled cardboard from one of the packing boxes. With a pen from his pocket, he wrote something on it and placed it in the rocking chair.

  The two men laughed, a false, hollow sound, and walked to the front of the van. As they drove away, the rocking chair was shrouded in moonlight. It started to move. Backward and forward, it rocked, despite the stillness of the night.

  Chapter 1

  A black SUV stood in front of a large townhouse. The paintwork was polished so deeply you could dive into it, but the gloss couldn’t hide the rust dotted along the wheel arches, or the scratch on the rear panel. The car was long past new.

  The doors were all open and the car looked like a giant beetle, poised pre-flight. In the rear seat, six-year-old Lucy fidgeted against the faded leather. Her angelic face was surrounded by golden curls and lit with excitement as she jiggled in her seat. She wanted so badly for this trip to be perfect, like the trips she remembered, the long walks with Daddy, coming back to the smell of Mummy’s pie
s, and falling asleep on the sofa. She believed that if she imagined it perfect, then that was how it would be.

  Next to her, nine-year-old Chase had his head buried in a book about dragons. She knew he had read it over a hundred times, or at least that was how it seemed. Some days he would recite whole passages, roaring like a dragon to make her laugh and squeal with delight. The story was one of his favorites, but she knew he was also deeply excited. He had been reading the same page for the last twenty minutes.

  She wanted him to talk, wanted to tell him about the trip, but he pretended to be engrossed in the story, knowing that it would drive her wild. She wasn’t going to let it.

  Lucy jiggled again and poked his arm.

  He feigned indifference, keeping his eyes down, hidden by wavy brown hair that flopped across his face.

  She grabbed for his book, her clumsy fingers slipping from the pages as he pulled it away with a stern expression. Quickly, he looked down, but it was too late. She spotted the smile and it spoiled his ruse.

  “You’re just teasing,” she said, and grabbed for the book again.

  Chase pulled it away and lifted it higher. “This is a really good bit.”

  “Show me.” Lucy tried to peer at the page but it was held too high.

  At last, Chase lowered the book and closed it with a thump. Then he closed his eyes and lowered his head again, hiding his face.

  Lucy watched as his shoulders shook with mirth.

  “You’re laughing,” she said, and thumped his arm.

  “Am not.”

  “I can’t wait,” Lucy said, giggling with anticipation. “Aren’t you excited?”

  Chase kept his head down, but the book began to shake as barely suppressed laughter shook his shoulders. He raised his head and stuck out his tongue, which caused Lucy to giggle even more uncontrollably. Folding the book in his lap, he turned in the seat. “A week in a cabin with you ... sounds like torture.” But his smile told a different story.

  Lucy grabbed for the book again and the car was filled with happy laughter.

  “Jesus. I’m on the phone.” A woman’s harsh voice drifted over to the car.

  Lucy wilted in her seat, her excitement extinguished like a daisy too close to a flame. She glanced across the garden, toward the front door. The bright colors of the summer flowers were fading. Desperately clinging to life as the seasons began to change. They seemed sad to her and lowered her mood even more.

  Standing in front of a large, pale blue house was her mum, Lauren. With a phone glued to her ear, her shoulders were squared, her head held high, and her brow furrowed with concentration.

  Lucy thought she was the most beautiful woman ever. But today her long blonde hair was pulled back severely and fastened in a ponytail which bounced angrily as she moved. She wore her normal jeans and a white blouse, somehow making this casualwear look sophisticated and elegant. Lucy wished she was at home more.

  Standing at Lauren’s side was Lucy’s dad, Steve. His head was down, his shoulders slumped. The stance made him seem smaller than he was and he fidgeted almost as much as Lucy. Once proud of his strength, he now looked lost and clumsy, like a boy caught in some heinous act and called before the principal.

  “They’re arguing again,” Lucy said. “I should go see … help.”

  Lucy started to get out of the car but was held back by Chase, who put a hand on her arm.

  “Let’s play a game.”

  Lucy didn’t want to play; she wanted the shouting and the tension to stop. Maybe if she was there, it would.

  “Come on,” Chase said. “Rock, paper, scissors.” He held out his fist and started to bounce it.

  Lucy looked back at the house, but she didn’t want to miss her chance so she held up her own fist.

  “On three,” Chase said.

  “Just for a week.” The sharp words came from the house and Lucy tried to ignore them as Chase counted.

  “One …”

  Surely her mum wanted to come with them … wanted this holiday.

  “Two … three.”

  She held her hand out flat and squealed with delight as Chase made a rock. “Paper beats rock.”

  “I guess you win. Another one.”

  “I’ll try and get back earlier...” Lauren’s voice rose even higher. “No, there’s no signal at the cabin.”

  “One … two … three.”

  Lucy made a rock and Chase made scissors. “I won again,” she said, only this time there was less delight. The tension from the house was too much to ignore.

  Over at the house, Lauren ended her call and turned toward Steve. Quickly, she hid the fatigue that seemed to force her almost to her knees.

  “Are we ready?” Steve asked, his eyes pleading.

  She gave him a smile that turned into a grimace as her worry and fear showed through. “I should be working. We need the money more than we need this holiday.”

  She hadn’t meant to put the emphasis on the I and we, but she watched Steve cringe, though he must know she didn’t mean it. Still, she couldn’t hold his eyes, and glanced across at the car. The children were sitting quietly, like crash test dummies waiting for the explosion. Their eyes were forward, as they pretended not to hear. Lauren hated how their problems were affecting the kids. They were often quiet now, sliding into their own little worlds as they tried to ignore the fights their parents had.

  “We promised them a holiday, remember?” Steve almost whispered. “Lauren, please. For them.”

  “Okay. I do miss being with the pumpkins.” Lauren smiled and her face was transformed into that of a gentle, caring wife.

  Chapter 2

  The SUV slid smoothly through the night. Lauren handled the car with confidence and ease as she stared at the never-ending road. It seemed to rush toward her like fate in the glow of the headlights. She felt out of control, careering down a hill to the destruction of her marriage at ever-increasing speed. She had tried so hard to step up to the plate, and she did not blame Steve, but the bills just kept coming and they were barely surviving.

  She let out a tense breath and rolled her shoulders to release the tension. Luckily, the road was quiet. There was little traffic, and she wondered again if she should have stayed at home and let Steve take the kids on this last trip to her parents’ cabin.

  She glanced in the rear-view mirror. Lucy was asleep, her head resting on the seat, her golden curls forming a halo around her face. She looked so cute, it almost took Lauren’s breath away.

  Chase was reading, as always, the glow of his reading light making him look older and so serious.

  Lauren had a moment of panic. Where has the time gone? I’ve been working so much, and every time I look up, they seem to have grown … what am I missing?

  Damn, she realized suddenly, had they forgotten?

  “Did you bring the camera?” she asked, the words coming out more sharply than she intended. Flustered, she continued, “We may as well make some memories, if I can’t work.”

  Steve turned toward her slowly, as if he was expecting another row. “Yes, it’s packed.”

  She stared at the black road, leading off into the dark. “You know I should have worked—”

  Steve cut her off tentatively. “Remember what you used to tell me?”

  She laughed, a short bark of sound, but it broke the tension. “All work and no play makes Steve a dull boy.” She glanced at him. His head was down, his shoulders bowed, his hands curled together in his lap. She loved him so much, but never seemed to find the time to tell him.

  He looked across at her. “I’m sorry, but we have to sell.”

  She turned back to the road, fighting the tears that threatened to flood her eyes and spill down her cheeks, and her answer was harsher than she intended. “My dad gave me the cabin. How can I sell?”

  “Gave us the cabin,” Steve said.

  Lauren could see his anger rising. They had talked, and he had told her how he felt ashamed and hopeless. Am I causing that?

  �
��Sorry. Look, I’m doing the best I can. At least I’m working now.” He turned to look out of the side window, the tension in his eyes showing in the reflection on the night-dark glass.

  Lucy stirred in the seat behind them, woken by the raised voices.

  Steve turned toward her and his expression softened. Lauren glanced back too. Lucy’s smile was quick and infectious; it filled her with joy and neither parent could do anything but return it. Chase was very still, sensing the growing tension, but even he couldn’t resist a smile for long.

  Lauren looked back at the road and suddenly felt angry for no reason. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe it’s selling the cabin.

  “My husband, the odd job man.” Lauren’s caustic tone sliced through the sudden joy like a hot knife through butter.

  Why did I say that?

  In the rear-view mirror she saw the kids share a look and stare out opposite windows.

  “Would you rather I did nothing?” Steve asked.

  Lauren’s voice rose. “You know ...”

  “Mummy, don’t ... don’t hurt Daddy,” Lucy called from the rear seat, her voice shrill with concern.

  “It’s all right, honey. We’re just talking. Anyway, I’m all better now,” Steve said in a soothing voice.