Murder at Huntington Manor

Huntington Manor is a place of murder and betrayal.
Willow Taylor is writing an article in History about Huntington Manor.She is told to visit it but there is a myth that whoever goes in there dies, they get murdered by Tobias Huntington the son who was mistreat and caused the death of the Huntingtons. After Willow goes to the house strange things happen to her. Is someone trying to kill Willow? And will Willow be the one to save Tobias from not being loved?
This story is a mystery,a bit scary, fantasy and romance book.

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18. Stories

 

‘Willow are you even listening? Peter has just had a good idea for our next scoop.’ Lisa, the head of our journalism team, was glaring at me from the front of the class. My mind was elsewhere, back at my house reading the page.

Peter was stood up also glaring at me from the other side of the room. ‘Sorry Lisa, sorry Peter. Carry on I was zoned out,’ another glare. ‘I was zoned out because I also was thinking of an idea.’

‘Oh really? What is it?’ Lisa’s tone was so sarcastic. She used to be a good friend before we both started the journalist team and she became head. Her nose is always stuck in the air, when she see’s someone who is not paying attention to her. Even if you are walking down the corridor, and she has a new hairstyle then you don’t say anything, she goes ballistic.

Anyway, by this time everyone in the room was staring at me. I felt very uncomfortable. Palms sweating, head thumping I make an excuse of needing the bathroom.

Bolting down the stairs, I don’t see Mr Dane at the bottom. I go straight into him, knocking his papers and nearly himself to the ground. My cheeks burn up with embarrassment.

‘I am so sorry Sir!’ I stutter, starting to pick up the papers near his feet. He joins me on the ground with a smile on his face.

‘It is fine. Luckily I wasn’t the head teacher or you would be in detention now.’ He smiles again and picks the rest of the papers up. ‘Seen another Portrayer?’

It was supposed to be a joke but it made my stomach drop. Obviously he could tell something was up by my face. I imagined it being as white as chalk.

‘I am sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just wondering why you were in a hurry.’ That annoyed me; I am not scared...it just made me remember the website.

I frowned and straightened up. ‘I was not scared. And I may have just annoyed the head of the journalism team; I made the excuse of needing the bathroom.’ Thinking about it that made me sound scared now-I am not scared of Lisa.

Mr Dane, also straightened up, and smiled. ‘Well good luck....again.’ He winks then leaves me in the empty corridor.

 

*******************************

Mr Dane, wrote the words ‘Portrayer’ on the board. What is he trying to do to me?

Mutters were heard from the back of the classroom. Probably curiosity, but I knew everything.

‘Right,’ Mr Dane perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘A lot of you are probably wondering what is Portrayer or what are Portrayers-

‘What has this got to do with Black Magic?’ Someone asked, I thought to myself ‘A lot.’

‘Good question, it means a lot. Just wait to find out I will answer many of your questions. Okay so a Portrayer is a demon sent from Hell. They are magical beings and are made with Black Magic. A sorcerer summoned them from Hell to kill his enemies. What a Portrayer is...’ He went into the description of what it does and what they look like. There were many gasps and many questions. Like ‘Can someone in this classroom be one?’ ‘Am I one?’ But Mr Dane explained that you will know if someone is one they will not talk. Portrayers are very strong but that is one thing they have not mastered, speaking. The other answer was you will feel drained and ill all the time.

‘I want to tell you a few stories that have happened in the past.’ Everyone in the classroom was intrigued, even myself. Izzy’s jaw was hitting the table, I hadn’t yet told her about my encounter with one. He told the story about the man in Bangkok. He also told one about a whole family being portrayed. However, the one story that interested me was: ‘The last story I will tell is very important to our country, and our area. A young man was related to the sorcerer. The sorcerer did not like this relative; he thought he was a burden. When he was just ten the sorcerer made one of the Portrayers touch him. This made the young boy very weak, the sorcerer hid this relative and locked him in a room to die. With the Portrayer he made him pretend to be this relative, while the real one was dying. The sorcerer then came to a problem, the mother of the relative noticed that he could not talk anymore. So the sorcerer put a spell on both the mother and the other sibling, so they could see he was talking. A long time after this the Portrayer got older to a teenager just like all of you. The family were happy, and this made the sorcerer jealous. So he made this Portrayer seem like a deranged creature and made the family hate him.’

Just as he says this the bell for home goes off. We all stayed glued to our chairs.

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