A/N: I do not own The Woman in Black or any of its contents, all credit goes to Susan Hill and all those who worked on the movie, but I am responsible for my own OC's. No Copyright fragment intended. Thank you.
A/N: I am back, I said I would be, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and great New Year's Eve and Day, I sure did, got The Woman in Black on DVD and I am using it as guidance to help me in this story of mine. Well 2013 is here, brand new and waiting for us to explore it.
Anyway, I was planning on uploading this chapter last night, but I thought I'd let you all enjoy New Year's Day first before getting back into the story. So here is Chapter 6.
In Response: To Anera527, I suppose Grahame does have a bit of darkness in him, something my subconcious must have wirtten for me I suppose, well done on picking that up. To Ladyluly, if you are scared for Ffion and the unborn baby, well, all I am saying is keep an eye on Grahame in Chapter 7, it might make sense to you when you read it. Also thank you to DracoWolf316 for adding this story to his Favorite and Alerts, thanks a million.
The Woman in Black:
Revenge of Grahame Kipps
Chapter 6
The door creaked opened and Grahame stepped over the threshold into the dark, dusty and frail home of Eel Marsh House.
The entrance hall he stood in was not at all welcoming. His eyes played tricks in the dim darkness as shapes from within the shadows took many forms.
Grahame sighed and coughed as the stale air that remained in this house robbed him slightly of the oxygen that he breathed. He left the front door open to let the air waft in from outside.
Two black and dusty chandeliers hang in the entrance hall, and grim looking picture frames were hung along the side of the wall where the stairs were situated. Furniture and other assortments of antiques were covered over by yellow sheets. Dust and cobwebs seemed to cling to wherever Grahame's brown eyes settled on.
With his back turned, a sudden slam caused Grahame to jump, he span and saw that the doors to the front of the house had slammed shut. He walked over to them and pulled them open again.
The instant he opened them, the doors slammed shut again on their own accord. Grahame frowned and for the third time he opened the doors.
As he opened them he was met by a black mass that hovered in front of him on the doorstep.
"Hello," he said to it. His hand automatically reached out to touch it. The mass settled over his hand covering it in its blackness. His hand felt stone cold, and it pained Grahame, it felt as if his hand had been pried off of him.
He tried to pull his hand back out from the black mass.
He tried pulling his hand out from the mass again.
Something was wrong.
His hand was stuck inside the mass.
This was new to him.
To him, it reminded him of that time he got his hand stuck in a hole and he had to yank his hand pretty hard which tore off most of his skin in the process to get it out. It took a full week almost for his hand to heal, and this was what it felt like as his hand was now stuck inside the black mass that just stood hovering there before him.
He tugged on his own hand more, using his free hand for support. A surge of electricity surged through his veins that ran up and into his heart. Whatever happened after that was blurred. He found himself halfway from the entrance of the door which was left open, the black mass now gone.
Grahame struggled to get up. As he got up he noticed smoke was coming from underneath him. It was only when he got up and checked himself out to make sure that no bones were broken that he noticed his hand which was in the black mass was smoking with white smoke, almost as if steam was seeping through his skin.
Grahame took one look at the door. Was that Jennet? He thought to himself. Did he just meet the Woman in Black? Whatever it was, Grahame straightened himself out, closed the doors and began to ready himself for a rather unexpected night.
Revenge of Grahame Kipps
The house must have been spectacular during its prime, but now the furniture, the chandeliers, the china, the chairs, anything that wasn't covered, was slowly gathering dust and cobwebs and rotting away as time eat at anything it could touch.
He moved from room to room, inspecting everything around him. He started with the study. Papers were lying on the table all scattered around the place in one gigantic pile of mess.
He gently picked up a letter clipping from some kind of article. Scribbled onto the paper in red ink in web like writing were the words, Rot in hell, God protect me and other words that he could not make out.
Psst!
Grahame looked over his shoulder and at the open door, he was expecting to see someone standing there, he could have sworn that someone had tried to get his attention, but he must have imagined it.
He turned to look back at the table and rummaged through the papers on the desk in front of him.
A shadow crossed his path. He looked up and saw just briefly through the window that shined in grey dark light of someone passing the window. He just caught a glimpse. He walked towards the widow, opened it and popped his head outside. "Hello!" he called. No one answered him.
He pulled his head back in and closed the window.
SMASH!
Grahame turned suddenly. He raced back to the window, opened the window and stuck his head outside again. There at the base of the window, smashed with earth sprawled over the place was a flowerpot, or what would have been a flowerpot with a dead blackened flower lying on the floor with no life teeming through it.
Grahame looked up the side of the house. He pulled his head back into the study, locked the window and made a mental note of not going anywhere near or to open the window again.
Psst!
He heard it again; someone was in the house with him, at least not that far away from the room by his judgment.
He walked back to the door and into the main hall where he was met with the many pictures and the two chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.
He looked around the main hall for any signs of life: nothing there.
Grahame listened to the silence that seemed to spook him but not enough to scare him. "Haunting me already, Jennet?" he asked himself, he got no reply.
He decided to leave the entrance hall, but he stopped before his mind picked up on something that his eyes deceived him of seeing.
He took yet another good look at the entrance hall, something was wrong, something was off, though he couldn't quiet put his finger on it. It couldn't have been that important, but then again, it was most likely his imagination, but one thing was for certain, his eyes were drawn towards the two doors of the house entrance. Why he had no idea.
Revenge of Grahame Kipps
The kitchen in Grahame's view was brutal when he saw the remains of what looked like a dead pig hanging upside down from a rusted crooked bent nail. The kitchen stunk and several flies flew around the place.
All sorts of knives were hanging from hooks, if he didn't know any better, he had a funny feeling that Eel Marsh House belonged to a butchers. Maybe it did at one point, he didn't exactly know the history of Eel Marsh House for certain, just about what happened here.
Grahame looked around and even opened a few cupboards; he knew there was going to be nothing in them, but he was at times nosy and could not resist a little peep at something that is of interest to him.
As he browsed something thudded behind him, the mixture sound of a clatter and shatter of glass rang through his ears. He span around waving his hand hoping to catch someone off guard. No one was around, just him.
There on the ground, perfectly stuck into the tiled floor was a butcher's knife, the kind that looked like an axe.
Grahame raised his foot and saw a mark on the heel of his black shoe. He bent down and plucked the butchers knife from the tile and examined it.
His mind pieced together what had happened. Someone or something had tried to do away with him, but something prevented that from happening, or whatever tried to hack him off had a lousy aim.
Grahame realized he was standing in a trap. The whole kitchen was teeming with dangerous sharp pointy objects that Grahame had to get out quickly. Luckily nothing else seemed to happen as he exited the kitchen. He did however make a quick and mental note of keeping away from the kitchen and not to go back in there again, unless it was for a perfectly good reason.
Revenge of Grahame Kipps
Grahame waked back into the entrance hall which looked brighter. But yet again, there was something odd about the entrance hall, there was something off about the place, and it was bugging him, it felt as if the answer was dangling in his face and he was just too blind or stupid to even reach out and grab it.
As he tried to figure out what this was, his mind was occupied on something that he held in his hand. He still clutched the butchers axe in his hand in which he dropped it to the floor rather suddenly, he thought he had put it down, clearly he didn't.
He picked up and placed it to one side on a table that was placed just by the stairs.
His eyes then panned upwards to the upper level of the home. He was drawn to the upstairs and wanted to see if there was anything up there that was worth looking at.
He sighed and walked up the stairs a step at the time.
As he walked up the black and dusty stairs he heard the thudding sound of what sounded like someone hammering.
Rolling past him and down the stairs was a small solid ball which skipped and bounced on the stairs before rolling to a halt. His brown eyes followed its movement right to the very end.
He frowned at this. Not what I would call a haunting, Jennet. He thought to himself.
He turned to carry on walking up the stairs.
Before him, floating down, pale face, eyes with evil that not even the devil could best, and a shriek that sounded like a wailing banshee, Grahame fell backwards back down the stairs, he was halfway up the stairs before he felt a hot searing pain run across the back of his head.
The shrieking continued for some time before he remembered it fading and himself drifting into consciousness filled with nothing but blackness.
A/N: Short chapter here, chapter 7 will be slightly longer, just to let you know.
Reviews would be nice.
SoulVirus.
