WYCHETTS
by William Holley
Copyright 2013 William Holley
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1- Our New Home
Chapter 2- If Only Mice Could Talk
Chapter 3- Even Weirder House!
Chapter 4- All Mod Cons
Chapter 5- The Face in the Wall
Chapter 6- It’s Alive!
Chapter 7- Voices in the Garden
Chapter 8- You Can Talk!
Chapter 9- Bryony’s Idea of Fun
Chapter 10- Real Food
Chapter 11- Inglenook
Chapter 12- Mice Are Always Right
Chapter 13- The Man from the Council
Chapter 14- Truce
Chapter 15- Death Trap
Chapter 16- Who Needs TV?
Chapter 17- Where Has All the Magic Gone?
Chapter 18- Runaway Lunch
Chapter 19- In the Dark
Chapter 20- Back to Save the World
Chapter 21- The Shadow Clan
Chapter 22- Ginger Marmalade
Chapter 23- Your Terror Has Made Me Stronger
Chapter 24- Hanging Around With Jane
Chapter 25- I’m Not Scared of the Dark
Chapter 26- A Little Flushed
Chapter 27- What Bryony Wished For
Chapter 28- Bryony’s New Home
Prologue
The last block was hammered into place, sparks flashing in the darkness as metal clanged against stone. The ring of shadowy figures retreated, heads bowed as their leader raised his hands.
“It is done,” said a voice, deep and whispery. “The power of the Wise Ones is sealed.”
“And what now?” asked another, in a hoarse croak.
“Now we wait,” purred a woman. “We wait until the appointed time, when the Full Moon of Magister is in adjunction with the Seventh Sign of the House of Mordoran; for then it is foretold that the unsuspecting children will arrive to re-awaken the ancient force that resides within this place.”
“And then we make our move,” said the whispery voice. “The power of the Wise Ones will be ours, and the world will suffer in the grip of the Shadow Clan.”
A discordant gabble of cheers, hoots and whistles filled the blackness. Outside, the twisted branches of a dead tree reached into the night sky, grasping at the ashen orb of the moon.
The wait had begun; and the wait would last five hundred years…
1 Our New Home
Bryony’s mum (her real mum, that is) said that one should always judge a house by its garden. Following that advice, Bryony could only conclude that her new home was going to be something between a rubbish dump and a hovel.
There was no lawn, no flowerbeds, nothing but a wall of overgrown weeds and briars that towered high above Bryony’s head and hid the house itself from view.
Looming from the tangled vegetation was a dead looking tree, with branches like claws and a trunk that bore a spooky resemblance to an old man’s ugly face. Bryony wasn’t the nervous type, but there was something about the tree that gave her the creeps.
But it wasn’t just the tree, or the awful state of the garden. There was something else that made Bryony feel uneasy: a weird sort of feeling, like she was being watched.
But Bryony knew that was unlikely. She was miles out of town, right in the middle of nowhere. There were just fields all around her, not a person or building in sight. No people, no traffic, no houses or shops.
She decided it was the remote location that put her on edge. No people or houses was bad enough, but Bryony wasn’t sure if she could cope without shops.
“Are we really going to live here?” Bryony’s dark eyes rolled to fix her father with a fearful stare.
Bill Platt smiled and nodded. “So what do you think, darling?”
The question was not aimed at Bryony, but the slim, auburn haired woman who stood beside her.
Her name was Jane, and she was a teacher. She wore cardigans (which she knitted herself), flowery skirts and sandals. She smiled a lot and said everything was ‘lovely’. All of which was annoying enough, but she also insisted that Bryony call her ‘Mum’.
No way.
“Well what do you think?” asked Bill again, this time with a nervous edge to his voice.
Jane smiled that familiar sickly smile, and wrapped her skinny fingers around Bill’s arm. “The location is lovely. But I’d like to see the house before I give my full opinion.”
“Of course, darling. I’ll lead the way.” Bill pushed the rickety wooden gate. It wouldn’t budge, so he pushed harder, but still it refused to co-operate.
“Gate’s a bit swollen,” he grunted, leaning his full weight on the puny looking structure. “But don’t worry, I’ll have it open in a...”
There was a loud crack, and the gate disintegrated into a pile of rotten scrap wood.
“It’s no problem,” said Bill, kicking shards of splintered gate from the overgrown pathway. “Just needs a few nails. I’ll sort it first thing tomorrow.” He turned and beckoned to Jane and Bryony. “This way, ladies.”
Jane laid a hand on Bryony’s shoulder. “You go first, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.” Bryony twisted out of Jane’s grasp and marched off down the lane. “And the only place I’m going is home.”
“Wait,” called Bill, running after Bryony and seizing her arm. “We are home.”
Bryony shook her head. “I mean our proper home. In Mossy Glade Close.”
“But we’ve moved,” explained Bill, as though that fact could have somehow escaped his daughter’s attention. “This is our home now.”
It was the word ‘our’ that made Bryony’s stomach churn. If it wasn’t bad enough having to leave her lovely house in Mossy Glade Close for some overgrown tip in the middle of nowhere, the prospect of having to live there with Jane made matters even more unbearable.
And of course there was the boy.
Bryony’s stepbrother Edwin was the spitting image of his mother, with ginger hair, pale freckly skin and a body that would make a weight-conscious pipe cleaner jealous. And then there was his voice: a shrill, whining mewl that put Bryony’s teeth on edge whenever she heard it. Which she now realised hadn’t been for quite a while.
She glanced round to see where the annoying little brat had got to. As much as she hated to look at Edwin, Bryony hated it even more when she couldn’t see him. It normally meant he was up to something; something that involved doing nasty things to her. Like last week, when the four of them went for a walk, he’d slipped a slug into the hood of her jacket. She hadn’t found out until it started raining. And the week before, at the cinema, he’d sneaked a snail into her butter-toffee popcorn. And before that, at the Italian restaurant…
Bryony preferred not to dwell on that one; it had put her off meat balls for life.
Bryony looked all around, but her hated enemy was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Edwin?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Jane’s sickly smile vanished. “He was with me a moment ago. Oh, don’t say he’s run off again!”
Jane scurried off down the lane, shrieking her son’s name. Bryony couldn’t help but smile, hoping Edwin had run off.
That would put an end to her problems.
Well half of them, anyhow.