As part of The Dead House Mirror Tour, I am please to welcome on of the characters, Carly, onto the blog to tell us about the spookiest place she has ever been. As this is a transatlantic blog tour, make sure you head over to Kaitlin's blog, Fiction Fare later for the mirror post from Kaitie. The UK gets the day, the US has the night!
Message Book Entry,
I don’t remember a day out in West Wycombe, but then mum and I had so many girlie days, it’s hard to differentiate. I wish you’d had that too, Kaitie. If I’d been with you, actually with you, I think I would have been brave enough to go inside.
I think the creepiest place I ever went to was the Glasgow Necropolis. “Necropolis”, meaning “City of the Dead”. Remember that one? You completely terrified me by telling me stories about ghosts sighted there, and how if you visited the graves during the day, ghosts and ghoulish things would come back at night. So of course I thought that I’d put you in danger just by going. I cried to Mum for hours before she managed to assure me you were just being an ass. ;) Not. Funny.
It was one the home of a grove of Druids, and it makes me angry and sad to think that’s no longer the case. But I remember going on the guided walk and thinking that so many had died there. I felt it, too. This eerie stillness. And I remember you telling me about this woman called Margaret who, along with her housekeeper, Mary, was killed in 1933 after being hit by a tram, and I swear, Kaitie, for a moment, I thought I saw her statue (The White Lady) move. Loads of people have said the same. But I think it was just the angle of the sun or something.
And then you went wandering there at night, completely not allowed! When you transitioned out, you left me there, sitting on top of one of the graves. Remember? I was only thirteen and I freaked out. Mum was hysterical, Dad was furious. I’m sure that added to the scary part for me.
I didn’t know how to get back. That was the most lost I’ve ever felt.
But then I saw your post-its, weighed down by rocks. A little path for me to follow. I still have them.
Then: Follow me.
Then: Getting closer.
Then, by the gate: Through here.
Then, on the road: Head this way.
Further along, the Message Book, hidden in the bough of a tree with a soggy purple post-it, the writing completely washed off. I still don’t know what it said.
The message book entry was really amazing. And I understood why you left me there. But that was the day we made our arrangement, remember? No leaving Carly in strange places.
Does that answer your question?
Part-psychological thriller, part-urban legend, this is an unsettling narrative made up of diary entries, interview transcripts, film footage transcripts and medical notes. Twenty-five years ago, Elmbridge High burned down. Three people were killed and one pupil, Carly Johnson, disappeared. Now a diary has been found in the ruins of the school. The diary belongs to Kaitlyn Johnson, Carly’s identical twin sister. But Carly didn’t have a twin . . .
Re-opened police records, psychiatric reports, transcripts of video footage and fragments of diary reveal a web of deceit and intrigue, violence and murder, raising a whole lot more questions than it answers.
Who was Kaitlyn and why did she only appear at night? Did she really exist or was she a figment of a disturbed mind? What were the illicit rituals taking place at the school? And just what did happen at Elmbridge in the events leading up to ‘the Johnson Incident’?
To find out more about Dawn Kurtagich: