Fire, Ice & Blood

The Story of Jake and Holly Book 1

Revenging the Evil Series

Prologue

Summer 2012:

Chase stood in front of a Victorian house with paint peeling, the grass had grown up several feet in front of the house, the windows were broken, and graffiti marking the front. The once trimmed hedges out front made it look more like a large ramshackle immobile beast with its carved teeth squeaking. It was bad enough that everyone in town knew of the ghost stories about the place, but the damage from the neighborhood heathens was worse.

As the summer breeze blew through Chase’s dirty blond hair, his green eyes sparkled while he stood on the sidewalk in front of the scariest place his parents ever told him about. He was told, his mom’s last night here at this house was the start of their real relationship and eventually the marriage of his parents; his dad saved her life that night.

His mother, a beautiful, almond eyed, raven haired, olive complexioned woman who loved to smile; would often glide her petite frame across the floor when she thought no one was looking. She was sassy when she wanted to be but also loved her family fiercely. She told Chase the story of how she and his father got together many times over the years. It felt like something was always off about the whole thing. It was like she left out a few details or there was something she didn’t know. As Chase stood looking at the old place, he felt the vibrations of the ghosts that still remained in the residence after all this time.

His father, Jake, a family man with a few small secrets, always warned him to never go near the place. Chase used to ask him why and all his dad would say, it wasn’t safe. He didn’t tell Chase it was because he was like his dad and had the power to see things with his mind. Although, that part he figured out for himself when he was younger and kept having strange dreams about people he never knew. Then, watching the news later in the day, Chase would see the people from his dreams in murder photos on the screen flashing through their deaths as if he were standing in the room watching. Once, he awoke from a vision screaming about how he had killed someone. His dad surmised it felt so real to him, he thought he’d actually stabbed someone. It used to upset his mom so he stopped telling her about it and would only tell his dad. Jake understood because it always happened to him too. They shared many stories over the years.

Blinking furiously, Chase decided to enter the house, get to the bottom of the mystery about the ghosts, and maybe even find a way to help the tortured souls rest. As he got closer, the vibes he felt were stronger, he could feel the pain of death from within the walls. It made his heart race as the pain felt of jagged needles flowing through his veins ending up in his chest as the racing continued. His body was filled with the tiny jabbing of thousands of knives from head to toe. For a minute he staggered, reaching for the hedge, waiting for the sensations to die down. He stomped a path in the tall grass and made his way to the porch. The rafters were falling in toward the back and the floorboards were creaking in places that weren’t broken or breaking. He teetered on the creaking mass of old wood as he stood looking at the front door. As he made his way closer, he shuddered, as if it were only thirty degrees, even though it was still eighty degrees in the evening and the light was beginning to fade into the west.

Chase peeked in through the glass portion of the front door to the enormous house. He saw the walls still held the replica paintings of Neo-Classical art depicting angelic scenes with the wingback chairs, chaise lounge, and plush sofa still in place; decay and dust was evident even through the filthy window. No one came to claim the belongings of the people who had once lived and died here.

Chase stomped his way from the porch, through the tall grass, and into the back yard of the apartment house. His dad told him there was a door that lead down to the first floor kitchen. It was as good a place as any to start learning about the ghosts.

Once located, the door stood with its paint peeling and glass severely cracked. The door, like most objects, stood silent in the light of day without anyone around to see or hear the ghosts who constantly opened and shut the door; trying to get the attention of anyone they could. The ghosts, hidden within the house, wanted out but couldn’t leave. They were trapped there; inside their mausoleum.

The piercing silence and the light breeze was all Chase could sense. The breeze died down, as he moved closer to his objective. He stood in front of the door, took off his t-shirt and wrapped it around his tanned hand. He bashed in the glass of the already severely broken pane in the door. After unwrapping his hand, he shook the broken shards from the cotton shirt, hearing them tinkle on the ground for only a moment. He replaced the t-shirt, put his hand inside the gaping hole, and unlocked the door. As he opened the hard wooden door, a cold breeze engulfed him.

Chase entered quickly and shut himself inside a house he was scared to be in. He’d heard too many stories, his mom told him about the slit throat of Cheryl the writer, and his dad told him about the face being ripped off the landlord, the whole thing was a horrific tale of brutal truth. Five out of the six patrons of the place died in one night. One damned night, but why? His mom and dad still didn’t know why the murders took place. No one that came onto the scene after it was over could tell them a thing, it was just gruesome and they were lucky to be alive.