He's Watching Me Read online

  “Right there with ya,” Bruce responded, also utterly mystified.

  Chapter 2

  How the hell were any children going to be trick or treating at that castle? It would be a backbreaking walk just to profit some sweets. She was partly impressed by this vast grey stone building, boasting what appeared to have at least five floors, stretching over acres of land. But a contrasting part couldn't help compare it with Dracula's castle. Laura had read Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' only a year ago for a school book report. The comparison was eerily uncanny. The stone of the gigantic abode was perfect, disturbingly so. Most castles develop signs of erosion, or several chips. But the tiny members that made up the fortress appeared flawless. However they were still a fair distance away. This could change.

  Laura couldn't help but think of the many disturbing flicks seen over the years. Some of which set in castles not unfamiliar to the one she was approaching. In these films various incarnations of evil would lurk in shadows, craving fresh blood, or innocent victims to kill. She couldn't settle on whether it was exciting to spend a night in this property, or anxious at the spooky vibe the building radiated. The car neared a driveway, which Laura assumed was the way to this intriguing castle. They swerved, driving up a steep path gravelled in caramel pebbles. The path was bordered with yet more green life, casting ominous shadows on the pathway. With the amount of twists and turns Laura wouldn't be mocked for thinking this was a roller coaster. The place was certainly secluded, and the owners did not make it easily accessible. Laura knew she shouldn't think it, but the thought was rearing its ugly head: was he hiding something? Or maybe he just liked privacy?

  Eventually they came upon a large silver gate, a speaker box aside it, fixed into the walls that held the gate. This fixture seemed out of place. A modern piece of electrical equipment in such an ancient, Gothic abode. Bruce drove as close as possible to the gate and then a green light broke through the advancing darkness. A voice echoed into the gloom, “Who is it please?”

  The voice was husky, yet each word was well pronounced.

  “Bruce Bass, I am here with my daughter, the babysitter,” he exclaimed loudly through an open window and increasingly strong winds. The sudden howls of wind seemed to have come from nowhere, as if stuck circling the property like trapped souls of the dead.

  “Yes, come in,” uttered the voice.

  Immediately after the words were spoken the gates creaked open and they passed through.

  The wheels scraped against gravel, wafting sandy mists into the air, making the castle appear even more malevolent. The coffee coloured hazes were like ghosts emerging from musty graves, awaking from their slumber, breaking free from sandy graves. Fortunately the ground appeared to even out. They no longer ascended a hill, but were slowly lowered to a flat surface. Which is when the castle came into full view.

  They were surrounded by three parts of the enormous construction. A multi-floored tower at the front held two stone sculptures of lions with a pointed roof. Laura was in awe, as was Bruce. Two narrow cylinder towers were attached to either side, each with their own roof, resembling a conical witches' hat. “This is....” Bruce fought for words or an expression to justify his view. On each side of the cluster of towers were two brick square blocks, each three floors, bowing down modestly to the tower of six levels between them. Not five, as it would seem. “This is for a family of three people?” Bruce felt it was way too much for a family of three. Heck, it was too big for an army. On the first floor were stone steps leading down from a double wooden door. They declined onto the gravelled ground and allowed direct ascension to the first storey.

  Laura was being intimidated by bricks, archways, tall stained windows, and acute roof peaks. She was completely overwhelmed.

  “Well, I am sure you will have plenty to do and explore here for the night. You brought a change of clothes didn't you? And toiletries?” Bruce asked, the faint linger of a smile on his face. The atmosphere deemed a full smile in appropriate, until Laura's temper vanished.

  “Yes dad,” Laura wanted so badly to ask him to collect her later that evening. For some strange reason she was nervous and slightly homesick, but too fuelled with indignation to speak.

  “Okay, well I guess you better go make your entrance and meet the wealthy owners. Even I didn't realise they lived in this, it could be a friggin' landmark it's so big!” Bruce laughed, wishing more than anything that his daughter would join in. He clearly wanted Laura to laugh, or show forgiveness, but Laura was a stroppy teenage girl maintaining a stern look, what did he expect?

  “Yeah,” Laura muttered half-heartedly as she opened the car door, not wanting to say a word but manners getting the better of her. She stepped out swinging a heavy bag pack onto her shoulders.

  “Laura wait, I am sorry if you're upset with me, this isn't my fault,” he whined.

  “Are you saying it's mum's fault? Or my fault?” Laura whipped round to face him and raised her voice an octave, glaring into his eyes. Fury emanated from Laura: that comment had rattled her.

  “No, it's nobody's fault, things sometimes workout this way, that's all,” Bruce spoke gently and raised his hands attempting to soothe her clearly aggravated temperament, surrendering to the teen's temper.

  “Whatever,” Laura grumbled, slamming the door with a clout.

  But Bruce continued to call, begging her to stop. But Laura couldn't turn around. She didn't want him to see her tears.

  As she neared the house, throat burning from stifled weeping, Laura felt minuscule. Between three large architectures, each of which looked heavy and domineering. She was surrounded by a gigantic spider constructed from stone, brick and cement. Upon reaching the top of the stairs she peered over the bannister and noticed a glow coming from a ground floor window. But she could not see any objects through the pane, just the orange filter. Maybe it was a furnace? Laura was now beneath a huge archway that framed the threshold of the door, partially protected from the screaming wind. She paused for some reason. Originally she had planned on knocking at the mahogany wood, but saw two golden rings dangling from each of the two joining doors. Shiny and big, gleaming in the horrendous weather, Laura lifted one, flinching at how cold it was, and hammered it repeatedly. Boom, boom, boom. That told her the wood was weighty, but that the ruckus had echoed through.

  She waited patiently; removing stray hairs from her face every few seconds like a bad twitch. Laura was having serious reservations about entering. Then a ray of hope broke through these dismal fears, and she turned. Ready to run to her dad, make amends, and go home; but as she did, a vacant space lay where the car had been; Laura saw a red flash far in the distance through acres of green. Regret was flung around her stomach like clothing in a tumble drier; it made her feel sick as her chest tightened.

  “Hello miss,” the voice startled Laura as she swung to face an old man grinning, with suspicious looking eyes, nauseous from all the spinning.

  “Hi,” she replied. Other than that all other words had escaped her. Laura was thoughtless and speechless at the sheer shock of being caught unaware by a strange individual. All vocabulary had fled.

  “Come in my dear,” the man shuffled backwards and gracefully lifted an arm to signal her entrance. He wore an expensive grey suit, complete with shiny cuff links. On top his hair was thinning, and skin was wrinkled, but his teeth gleamed whiteness, boasting a perfect smile.

  She reluctantly inched forward into the foyer. In front of Laura was an enormous hall, reminiscent of a school gym, although a gym was far more basic. These ceilings were raised with wooden beams; each had been carved exquisitely, with four chandeliers dangling from them, stretching down the long, wide hall. Walls were draped in fine art with ceramic statues plotted around like guests at an art gallery, admiring the exquisite paintings. The well furnished walls had at least a dozen doors embedded along either side.

  Each door was framed by an arch, a balcony above it. Wow! Laura's eye caroused every inch of the foyer, mouth hanging agape in am
azement. A mezzanine walkway connected the balconies above the arches. People must use those walkways to travel from one side of the castle to the other. Another gem she had missed during the initial shock of such marvellous surroundings, were the stairs at the end of the hall. A golden bannister, and stairs carpeted in a blood red. Already Laura was fumbling for words for the second time tonight, at how to explain the masterpiece.

  “Unfortunately I don't have time to show you the entire castle, as you can imagine that would take a few hours. But I will show you the rooms that will be needed most to you. Up those stairs is Toby's room, he's on the third floor and it's the first room on the right. Although you will probably hear the sound of dreadful video games.” He tutted. “Each of these doors down either side of us are the living rooms, such as dining rooms, kitchen, library, gym, home cinema, my office and such. Although I have another office in different wing of the castle which I tend to use more often.” His arms were flailing as he gave directions, like someone lost on an island yelling to a helicopter hovering overhead. “Would you like a drink or something to eat? Oh where are my manners, I am Doctor Lee Anderson,” he spoke with such enthusiasm, and every word was well rounded, he had what Laura imagined would be a very desirable radio voice.

  “Laura Bass, and yes I am a little hungry,” she politely smiled.

  “Then follow me,” his eyes widened as he instructed her, displaying his perfectly aligned set of stainless teeth.

  Laura's shoes clunked on the wooden floor of the foyer as she was escorted into a lavish kitchen, hit with wafts of many sorts that made her nostrils hum with an array of sweet flavours. When her eyes focused on the kitchen she was pleasantly surprised to see it was very modern. Laura had a preconceived idea it would be a kitchen straight from the Victorian era. But it had a cream marble worktop and all the cooking conveniences of today's technological world. Ovens, fridges, microwaves, coffee machines, not to mention an extensive breakfast bar that seated twenty, and a table behind it which accommodated a further twenty. Dr Anderson led her towards a double fridge, pulling it open to show how well stocked it was. Every shelf, every space, every part was filled with food. Meats, cheeses, yoghurts, pies, pastries, ice cream, chocolate, pasta, salad, fish, eggs, everything!

  “Help yourself to whatever you want.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, fascinated by the entire kitchen, and constantly circling to take everything in, explore every crevice.

  “The living area is just next door, and there are toilets everywhere. I can guarantee out of every five doors you try, one will be a bathroom,” he chuckled, to which Laura laughed.

  The feeling of regret and anxiousness was rapidly dissipating. It was near impossible to be worried or depressed in such a place. Or so she would have thought.

  After small talk and further information, he'd left to collect his wife from work. Then they would be driving to a gourmet restaurant, and possibly watching a play at an up-scale theatre. Laura was bursting to the brim, dying to explore every inch of the fascinating building. But first, homework, her reward would be taking a tour around each hallway, and each wing. How could a family of three possibly need all this space? Questions seemed to be oozing from her when faced with such splendour. Laura grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and now sat in the living room. Which in itself was a distraction; due to its size and incredible features, not to mention her escalating need to traipse around the castle.

  A giant stone fireplace graced the living room, all furniture facing it, a sixty inch plasma screen aside it. There was a bunch of white, plump sofas, a few tables, and a coloured stained window to the back of the room overlooking a cliff. The window pane exposed the miles of forest that framed the place. The view was undeniably breathtaking, and at night, it was a green collision of nature coated in a glittery, navy veil. The moon's glow lit the landscape magnificently, illuminating with an awe of magic and wizardry. To think she almost rushed to her father for another uncomfortably silent or painfully awkward journey, rather than bask in the ambience of such greatness. She was blessed. And to think she was being generously compensated to spend the night here. That was the cherry on top of the chef's handmade cake.

  Eventually, after the initial impression had faded, she managed to open a textbook and start some mathematics homework. Laura's pink, fluffy pen danced as she scribbled down equations, and her brain's vessels throbbed with intelligence, trying to solve each problem. Only a minute later a phone rang, breaking focus. Laura rose, resting the work on an oak coffee table. Near the stained window was a small corner table holding a glossy metallic phone set. A small green light flashed on the receiver.

  Laura teetered over and scooped it up, pressing the handset against her ear. Instinctively, she almost spoke cavalierly as if at home. But she quickly realised that Doctor Anderson probably has a reputation to upkeep, so she put on a telephone manner.

  “Hello, the Anderson residence,” Laura didn't even recognise her own voice, she appeared so posh.

  There was a heavy, chilling breath on the other line. Goosebumps slithered up Laura's arms. Several seconds passed, and still, nothing.

  “Erm.. hello? Who is calling?” Laura was beginning to lose her elegant voice, and impatience was beginning to grow like a cancerous cyst crushing vital organs forcing candidness.

  “Please, sir, madam, I am busy, can I take a message? They will be home soon.” Again, more seconds rolled by. Laura's patience was expiring like out of date milk, and she would also become very sour if this person didn't speak soon.

  “So you're alone?” a man asked.

  A tingle crept down the nape of Laura's neck, descending all the way down her spine.

  “Yes, well, they have a child, Toby, he is with me,” she suddenly regretted telling a stranger of her solitude, the only defence being a child. Laura questioned why she would even say that. Then there was that same disconcerting silence.

  “Are you after Dr Anderson?” Laura asked, regaining her gall.

  “Sir, I have homework to do, do you have some speaking problem? If you would rather ring later, they should be home in a few hours.” She faked polite, when what she really wanted was to get off the phone as this man was creeping her out. His breathing continued, but his speech was non-existent.

  “I'm going now; you can call later, good-”

  The man quickly cut off Laura's farewell, “You will be next.”

  Just as Laura was about to reply, the line went dead. The eerie drone resonated for a collection of seconds, while Laura stood completely still. Minutes later, after delicately placing the phone back, her ear drums recovered. But Laura couldn't shake of that odd, disconcerting conversation. Not to mention the last four words that sounded like a threat. You will be next.

  Chapter 3

  The pen scribbled numbers as ink bled onto the lined paper. But Laura still failed to shrug off the creepy, threatening phone call. The words kept whirling in her mind. “You will be next.” Next for what? Judging by his tone she guessed it wasn't an all expenses paid holiday to the tropics. It was harsh, and intentionally aggressive. Whatever he meant by those two words, he would see it through. That was what she couldn't dismiss.

  Half an hour later blackness had consumed the exterior to the property. The previously enchanting landscape was now a sinister, scary forest. One where Laura pictured a house made of sweets to entice gullible children and be devoured by a ravenous witch. The short, aural encounter had left her shaken, since which, she had retreated to the sofa and continued to study, which was proving tirelessly difficult. But then her bladder cried out, which she was desperately trying to ignore. The thought of walking the halls of this Gothic castle was no longer appealing, but instead, quite frightening. Seconds seemed to mimic hours. She was willing time to careen on into a world of its own, but unfortunately, time seemed to drag along at a snail's pace. And the urge to pee was expanding, her orifice stinging as a result. Get a grip! Laura told herself.

  So, putting the wor
k aside, she took a deep breath, and left the room. Okay, so, Dr Anderson said that out of every five rooms, there would be a bathroom, so I guess all I have to do is try five rooms then, Laura thought.

  She was now in the hall of doors, just before the stairs. Laura tried the first door after the living room, and briefly glimpsed into a library. The next room was Dr Anderson's office, bulky expensive furniture, folders scattered everywhere, and another breathtaking view of the forest from a full length window. What an office! She was impressed, but equally envious, simultaneously. Laura ignored the next door as she knew it was the kitchen. Which left two more doors, one of these should be a bathroom. Laura opened the fourth door and alas, it was a lime explosion of tiles, boasting a gigantic tub, separate shower, toilet, sink, and fogged window. The bathtub sat on a raised platform of three steps, with a row of eight silver shelves above it, holding various soaps, shampoos, a loofah, and sponges. It was the ultimate pampering station.

  She hurried to the toilet, slamming the door shut. Laura yanked down the red corduroy trousers, tugged at her underwear and planted her butt on the cold seat. As the full bladder emptied she began to feel at ease, and less tense. Her belly softened, releasing pent up anxiety. The tinkling proved to be soothing for some strange reason as her nerves began to settle. Just relax, you're over-thinking things again, just calm down, she told herself in an attempt to unwind. When she was done, Laura moseyed to the sink deciding which of the soaps to use, giving each one a sniff. It was a delectable collaboration of different scents: lime, orange, berry, mango, or pineapple. After a quick smelling competition she chose berry, and began rubbing the pink block of soap between her palms under a stream of warm water. When the door knockers made her freeze. Her stomach instantly stiffened again. The tap was still running, hands still gloved in frothy bubbles, but everything else became motionless.