Burn the Girls (The Haunting of the Whispering House Book 1) by L.C. Marino

Author:L.C. Marino [Marino, L.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Stepping into the afternoon sun invigorated Constance. The sun’s warmth filled her with invisible energy as they walked across the yard to the oversized shed on the back of the lot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the sunlight. She realized she hadn’t left the house since the trip to the funeral home.

“It’s so nice out,” Abigail said.

“I agree. The sun feels amazing.”

The girls reached the shed and found Uncle Hank singing poorly to himself. He shifted tunes to The Monkees’ “Last Train to Clarksville” when he saw them darken the shed entrance.

Constance scrunched her face as if bracing for shock, sending Abigail into wild laughter.

“You know, that’s my favorite song. Try not to kill it,” Abigail said.

Uncle Hank made an exaggerated frown at the joke. “Fine. I’ll stick to singing the blues. It’s better music anyway,” Uncle Hank said, tossing his hands in the air in fake frustration.

“We made you a sandwich. Aunt Jenny says no complaints until dinner,” Constance said, passing the wrapped sandwich to Uncle Hank.

“Thank you, dear. What are you girls up to?”

“We are going for a quick walk to enjoy the sun for a few minutes before we head back in and finish cleaning up.”

Abigail turned her head and cast a curious eye at Constance. She winked at Abigail, pausing her sister’s curiosity. Distracted by his sandwich, Uncle Hank nodded and unwrapped the paper towel.

“You girls have fun and don’t wander too far.”

“We won’t. We’re just going to visit the graveyard and come back.” Constance turned, hoping Uncle Hank wouldn’t probe further.

Uncle Hank looked up from his exposed sandwich, opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. His facial expressions flashed from confused to understanding.

He nodded and turned back to the shed’s interior without speaking another word. Constance prompted Abigail with a silent nod toward the walking path at the edge of the woods on the opposite side of the yard. They stepped across the damp, freshly cut lawn.

The girls walked in silence as they journeyed down the narrow path between the towering trees. The expansive canopy of the woods blocked much of the dominant sunlight they’d enjoyed in the backyard. Constance prepared her heart as she realized the risk she was taking by visiting the family cemetery. She felt vulnerable, her experience at the kitchen table that morning fresh and vivid in her memory.

Is this a terrible idea? Should I be in such a uniquely haunting and spiritually charged place so soon after that?

A new concern clambered to the forefront of her anxious mind–she would be alone with Abigail here. Normally, that wouldn’t warrant concern, but Abigail had been so odd lately. Her response after this morning’s vision had left Constance unsettled. It was almost as if Abigail had acknowledged something happening without saying it.

Don’t forget all the other strange things she’s been doing. Remember the altar in her closet? How about talking to herself in her room or how comfortable she’d been in the funeral home and how oddly she behaved on the ride home?

She wrestled her mind into submission.

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