The haunted house was waiting for him. Gavin bought the Victorian mansion to convert into luxury apartments. He moved in with his girlfriend and two friends. Exploring, they find a bricked-up door in the wine cellar and hear a cat meowing behind the wall. Opening the doorway, they discover a hidden room with a deadly secret.
The haunted house was waiting for him. Gavin bought the Victorian mansion to convert into luxury apartments. He moved in with his girlfriend and two friends. Exploring, they find a bricked-up door in the wine cellar and hear a cat meowing behind the wall. Opening the doorway, they discover a hidden room with a deadly secret.
Gavin parked his Range Rover in front of the gates of the Victorian mansion and climbed out of the vehicle. The gates stood nine feet tall, painted black with gold pointed arrowheads along the top. Beyond the trees, he could see the dark silhouette of the detached mansion. It appeared older than it had on the Internet auction website, and he paused for a moment, feeling a sense of sadness emanating from the empty property.
Removing the large padlock, he pushed the wheeled gates open and noticed they had been recently oiled, probably when the house was cleared. Stretching his back, he took several slow, deep breaths of cool, clean country air. The place resembled a small, stately home. He smiled, pleased with the purchase. He had to cash in his bonds and sell off most of his shares to finance this venture. Now, he hoped to double his two-million-pound investment.
He drove down the long gravel driveway and parked near the front entrance. Leaving the car, he smiled at the impressive Victorian building with its turrets and ivy-covered walls. Upon entering the porch, he placed his green carryall on one of the side seats. Cobwebs and spiders clung to the corners of the porch roof, yet someone had cleaned the stained-glass side windows and swept the tiled floor.
A white envelope was pinned to one of the weathered oak doors. Inside the envelope was a note directing him to locate the fuse box and the stopcock in the kitchen. The note included the phone numbers of a local handyman and a builder. It was signed by someone named Ben Higgins.
The doors creaked as he pushed them open, revealing a grand, dusty hallway. Inside, faded Asian rugs lay across the white marble floor, leading to an ageing bifurcated staircase. Following the note, he found the kitchen, a large, spacious room with a breakfast bar and an island. He switched on the electricity at the modern fuse box on the wall and turned on the water at the stopcock under the sink.
From his carryall on the dark marble worktop, he took out an electric kettle, a jar of instant coffee, a carton of milk, four mugs, and a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits. Just as he was about to switch on the kettle, a door closing upstairs startled him. He froze, listening intently. Was it just the wind blowing through an open window, or was someone in the house? Still feeling the effects of jet lag from his trip to America, he heaved a weary sigh and tried to dismiss the thought. However, a scraping noise followed by creaking floorboards from somewhere upstairs sent a shiver down his spine.
In a moment of panic, gripping the edge of the worktop, he held his breath. Had the atmosphere of this place got to him? He tried to dismiss the disturbing feeling. It was just an old, empty house. Cautiously, he went upstairs to investigate. Standing on the landing, he paused to listen while holding his breath. He tensed and exhaled nervously at the sound of footsteps on creaking floorboards.
‘I know you’re here,’ he called out forcefully. ‘Come out now, and you can leave, or I’ll call the police!’ Surprised by the intensity of his outburst, he let out a self-conscious sigh and shook his head. An eerie silence followed as he cautiously checked the rooms on this floor. Peeling patterned wallpaper and damp patches on the walls made some rooms look neglected. However, only some of the furniture had been removed. Most of the rooms had stripped beds and chests of drawers, giving the impression of a hasty exit.
One room had a balcony with elegant French doors, an old cast-iron fireplace, and an en-suite shower room that needed updating. He paused, frowning at his reflection in the mirror above the basin. At 27, his closely cropped ginger hair was beginning to recede, and fine lines had started to form around his dark brown eyes. Back in the bedroom, he felt a comforting sense of peace. Just as he was about to step onto the balcony, the creaking of floorboards above stopped him. Someone was up there!
He crept slowly up to the next landing and paused, listening, but he heard nothing unusual. He checked each room but found no one inside. One bedroom had a king-size bed with a purple duvet and pillows. He caught a faint whiff of faded perfume near the antique dressing table. In the mirrored wardrobes, he discovered elegant dresses and other clothing.
Why hadn’t this room been cleared? From the window, he could see the boating lake and the old derelict tower of a Victorian folly in the woods. He lingered for a moment, wondering who had lived in the house, when an icy chill in the room made him shiver uncomfortably, and he left, closing the door behind him. Glancing around, he noticed stairs leading up to the attic in a dark recess. As he approached, a tennis ball bounced down the stairs and rolled across the landing. When he looked up, he saw that the loft door was open.
‘I know you’re up there, and if you don’t come down, I’ll call the police!’
An intense silence followed, and another tennis ball bounced down the stairs, stopping at his feet. He glanced up and gasped, seeing a young, dark-haired girl in the loft looking down at him with big, sad eyes. She pouted, shook her head, and quickly disappeared inside.
Shocked, he paused momentarily as a shiver ran down his spine.
‘Hey, what are you doing up here, kid?’ he yelled, then climbed the stairs and switched on the lights. The spacious attic was filled with old trunks and furniture covered in dust sheets. Three small windows lined the walls, one of which was partly open, allowing a cool breeze to enter. As he looked around, he couldn’t see the girl. Was she hiding? He searched through the jumble of items, lifting dust sheets and opening old trunks, but found no sign of her. He closed the open window and, with some effort, temporarily fastened the broken latch. It was too small for the girl to get through, and there was a sheer drop off the slate roof.
Sneezing repeatedly from the dust in the air made him feel dizzy. As he switched off the lights and started to leave, something cold brushed against his hand and face. He shuddered and quickly closed the attic door. He was trembling. Had he seen a ghost? And where were those tennis balls? Confused and disturbed by his encounter with the girl and the eerie atmosphere in the attic, he went downstairs.
He took out his phone in the kitchen and called his girlfriend, Cynthia.
‘Howdy, Gavin. What’s the property like?’
‘It’s a creepy old place. When will you arrive?’
‘We’re just entering the village. Should be with ya shortly.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ He disconnected. Then, he called the numbers on the note and spoke to Ben Higgins and the building firm about doing some work.
A bang, followed by a scraping noise somewhere in the house, reminded him of the girl he had seen in the attic. He sighed and rubbed his forehead—had he seen a ghost?
***
After inspecting the outbuildings, stables, and triple garage, Gavin was clearing leaves from a blocked drain outside the kitchen when the removal van drove in and parked in front of the house. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he walked over to the vehicle. Cynthia and two men in grey overalls climbed out. The men greeted him and opened the rear doors while Cynthia viewed the property. As he approached, she smiled at him.
‘Had a bit of hassle getting your stuff outta storage.’ She frowned. ‘Heck of a place here, Gavin, but it’s more dilapidated than in the auction pics,’ she spoke with a slight American accent. Then her face brightened, and her brown eyes sparkled. ‘Hey, the grounds are amazing. Gonna need a ride-on mower to cut them lawns.’
‘I found an old one in the barn and some other gear.’ He smiled as she unbuttoned her blue duffel coat to show him her old jeans and green sweater. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was dressed for work.
As he hugged her, he felt a warm glow in their embrace. A year earlier, he had employed her to project manage the interior design of his penthouse in London. While working together, they fell in love. He sold that property and purchased a small flat in Islington before visiting her parents’ ranch in Texas to celebrate her mother’s birthday.
‘We’re ready to unload,’ one of the removal men said, carrying a large cardboard box.
‘Can you take everything into the hallway for now? I want to show Cynthia around first. Then I’ll give you a hand moving the stuff.’ Turning to her with a smile, he said, ‘The master bedroom has a balcony overlooking the rear gardens and the lake.’
‘Let’s see it.’ She took his arm, and they entered the house.
‘Wow!’ She stopped in the hallway with an open mouth. ‘That marble staircase and those stained-glass windows are fabulous. This place is huge, but it’ll take a lotta fixin’.’
‘I’m looking forward to living here. I’ve already contacted a local handyman to help with the gardens and a builder to sort out the roof and some damp issues.’
‘You’re the architect, Gavin, and it’s gonna be a fun project. I’m staying for a week to get ya settled, and I’ll be here weekends.’
‘When you finish working at the agency, we can focus on running our property company.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘My contract ends in two months, and I can’t wait.’
He caught a hint of her white musk perfume, touched her face affectionately, and their eyes met. Trembling with inner warmth, he kissed her, and she embraced him.
‘This is a big project.’ He smiled and took her arm. ‘Let me give you a tour.’
They headed upstairs after taking a quick look in the main ground-floor rooms. In the master bedroom, Cynthia peered into the en-suite bathroom and frowned at him. On the balcony, they surveyed the overgrown gardens and the boating lake. In the centre of the lake was a small island with dancing statues. Beyond the lake was a densely wooded area.
‘I haven’t explored the grounds yet.’ He put his arm around her. ‘My mother would have loved this place.’
She gazed up at him with sorrowful eyes. ‘Did ya visit her grave on the way here?’
‘Yes. I left some roses and thought of the happy times with her. It’s been years since she—’ He paused, thinking of his mother, and sighed heavily, feeling a deep ache in his heart. She had suffered from bipolar disorder and died suddenly, leaving everything to him in her will. This inheritance allowed him to pay off his university debt and begin his career in property development. Nostalgically, he turned to face Cynthia. ‘I know she would’ve adored you.’
‘That’s so cool,’ she said, resting her head on his chest. 'I wish I’d known her. At least you gotta meet my crazy parents in the States.’
He chuckled. ‘Your dad made me ride that feisty stallion, and your lovely mother wanted to know when we were getting married.’
‘Yep, she bugged me about it, but I didn’t know what to tell her. How ya feel about us getting hitched?’ She looked at him intently, biting her lower lip.
‘Meeting you has brought joy back into my life. We make a great team working together, and I…I love you, Cynthia. When we’ve finished this project, let’s get married.’ He held his breath, waiting for her response.
Her face lit up excitedly. ‘Of course, I wanna marry ya.’ She hugged and kissed him.
‘We could get married here or at your parents’ ranch in Texas.’ He knew she would like that.
***
Gavin stacked some boxes in the study off the lounge to unpack later. On one wall, he noticed an open safe. Inside, he found a Post-it note with the combination for the safe, and at the back, there was a small box. He opened the box and discovered a heavy gold ring with a black stone. The ring had symbols engraved in the gold. Excited by his find, he wanted to put on the ring, but something about it unsettled him, and he wondered if someone had left it there by accident. As he touched the ring, a disturbing chill ran through him. He placed it back in the box and shut the safe, which auto-locked. Annoyed, he realised he had left the Post-it note inside with the ring. He smacked his forehead in frustration, sighed, and returned to helping the men unload and move furniture and boxes to different rooms for Cynthia to sort.
When they finished unloading, Gavin joined the removal men in the kitchen.
‘Nice place you got here,’ the older removal man said after finishing his coffee. ‘We’ll be off now.’
‘Thanks.’ He handed each of them a £20 tip. ‘I’ll recommend you on Trustatrader.’
As they left, Gavin heard the young man muttering about the place being spooky. He remembered seeing the girl in the attic but decided not to mention it to Cynthia, who was busy making the bed and cleaning the master bedroom for them.
GRIMOIRE: The Haunting of Rickland Manor
By David Barrett-Murrer
Publisher: dbm Books
Published Date: April 2, 2025
ASIN: B0F3JZCTNL
Page Count: 174
Star Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Skull Dread Rating: 💀💀
This one scratches the itch for readers who want their haunted houses with a side of ritualistic dread. It’s creepy, atmospheric, and fast-paced, with enough occult flavor to keep the tension simmering. Basically, if you’ve ever yelled “don’t open that door!” at a movie screen, this book lets you live through the consequences.
What Did I Just Walk Into?
You know the rule: if you find a bricked-up door in a creepy old Victorian manor, you don’t open it. Clearly, Gavin and his friends missed that memo. Within hours, they went from real estate dabblers to unwilling occult bait, stumbling into an ancient grimoire ritual that probably should’ve stayed buried forever. One humming alcove later, and boom—the supernatural says hello. It’s a cocktail of bad decisions, eerie discoveries, and the kind of “we’re screwed” atmosphere that drips from every creaky floorboard.
Here’s What Slapped:
The setup hits like classic gothic horror with a modern spin with big house, dark cellar, mystery door. Perfect bait for spooky readers.
Vivid atmosphere. You smell the dust, feel the hum of that strange alcove, and want to yell at the characters to get the hell out.
The occult elements don’t just drop in but loom. Red circles, black pentagon, magnetic energy? Deliciously ominous.
The pacing keeps you flipping pages like you’re sprinting through a haunted house.
Characters felt believably flawed and exactly the type of people who would go poking around in forbidden rooms.
Extra points for not wasting time. Things escalate fast, and you don’t get bogged down with filler.
What Could’ve Been Better:
Honestly? I didn’t hate any of it. If I had to nitpick, maybe a smidge more character depth outside the spook-factor would’ve made the inevitable doom hit harder. But when you sign up for a haunted manor + occult grimoire, you’re not here for tea parties and emotional unpacking.
Perfect for Readers Who Love:
Haunted house stories that actually go full throttle into the occult
“Don’t touch the creepy thing” horror tropes done right
Gothic vibes with teeth
Shorter novels that don’t waste your time but still pack a punch
Reviewed by Robin for Robin’s Review