Havisham Manor

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

A work of Gothic Fiction based on the character Miss Havisham , from the Novel Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Gothic Fiction Story 


" This ain't an ideal place to move to" , I recalled what he said to me, the day they had a farewell party for me. It was my plan to move out of my old 'shack' to something big - something not too expensive, but habitable, something not small or average sized - but something bigger. The reason why I decided to move out was that I was getting married soon. It is only after I entered this house, that I realized that no matter how affordable and beautiful the house appeared on the advertisement in the newspaper, it came at a dear price - a price that is too dear for the faint hearted - the price was peace. 

It had been a month since I moved into that place after I came across that newspaper advertisement which stole my attention. Set far in the countryside, amongst the woods that dotted the NorthEast. I moved in, soon after I  wrote a cheque and got the keys to that 'country side' paradise. But I wished I had remembered the famous saying - "Looks Can Be Deceiving", before I made my regretful decision of purchasing that villa, that stood upon the hill, in grave solitude.  

While I took the keys from the old mad caretaker, I could see from his facial expressions, that he was not happy with me purchasing the villa. He just threw grim face expressions at me, the whole time.  

The first week of my stay was pleasant. I used to spend away my mornings, looking across the valley from the balcony. The horizon was scenic and beautiful, serene and enticing. The breeze had the fresh scent of nature - the scent of grass and the fusion of mountain and valley air. The water on  the surface of the lake which was diagonal to my viewpoint, glistened as it reflected the golden morning Sunlight. One could never get an experience as heavenly as the one I got, on the balcony overlooking the valley. 

Weekend came by. I was on my way home, after watching a movie in the nearest town, which stood five kilometers away, on the other side of the towering mountains. I had returned home, dripping wet as it was stormy outside. Before I closed the door and got inside the house, I heard thunder roaring in the distance and I stole a glance at the lightning lighting up the clouds that covered the mountain tops and canopied the valley. It was only after my feeble attempts to switch 'on the lights' that had gone in vain, I had realized that the storm had damaged my connections. I glanced at the Modem that lay beside the telephone. By looking at the ADSL light which was off, I could tell that the telecommunication lines were struck down too, by the raging storm.   

After a moment of thinking, I devised a plan of manually firing the systems up, the basement. The problem was that though I had no solid belief about the existence of Ghosts, for an unexplained reason I have always possessed a fear of entering basements alone in the dark since childhood. In the situation I was in, there was no other option that is worth trying than to manually fire the electricity up. So I put on my bravery, took deep breaths and marched towards the staircase that led down into the basement. I remembered that my mobile phone was fully charged, but when I took it in my hands to switch on the flashlight, it grew dimmer and finally blacked out. I walked down, foot by foot, slowly and carefully. The floorboards on the steps creaked as my foot stepped upon them. My nose could inhale the smell of the dampness and algae in the room. Drops of water trickled down onto the floor from a crack in one of those huge pipes that ran overhead. I walked slowly, ignoring the noises that caused chills to run down my spine and the hair at the back of my neck. I shivered as I wrapped my hands around the lever. I reached for it and an explosion rang through the house. The lights flickered. I saw the phantom of a lady, dressed in white, bleeding through cuts across her face. Her white wedding gown, was soaked in red near her chest. Her lips were sliced, and her eyes gashed. I heard laughter and wails running across the walls. She gave a wicked grin and  stabbed me numerous times ,that’s all I remembered. 


I woke up, and found myself in the Hospital. I was receiving treatments for my injuries. It is in that bed that I learnt that there was once a person named Miss Havisham who lived in that house long ago. She was known to have committed suicide, after her fiance cheated her and left her at the altar, ruining her life. After the betrayal, she was rumored to have rode back home and shot herself. From that day onwards no man dared to approach the house. I was also informed about the mysterious deaths of the caretaker and the lawyer, who were found hanging from a tree by the banks of the lake, a day after the property was sold. Now I can see blood dripping down on my paper. The hair on my back starts to tingle. I shrug. I get up now and I see a knife running through my eye.The last thing I saw was the vitreous fluid flowing down onto the floor along with blood. I slump forward, on my knees. I catch a glimpse of the person - the same woman in Bridal clothes, and I fall dead.... 

Submitted: November 22, 2015

© Copyright 2021 Andrew Jose. All rights reserved.

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