Fighting Words by R S Grey EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: R S Grey
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
SUMMER
“THIs Is IT,” the British cabbie declares. “We’re here.”
No. That can’t be right.
I lean closer to the window, anxious to get a better view of the
dilapidated stone building to my right—home sweet home for the next week
or two.
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Truthfully, dilapidated is too nice of a word to describe the place.
Monstrously hideous? Beyond salvation? Legitimately haunted? A window
on the ground floor has two shattered panes as if someone has thrown a
rock through them. A chunk of the stone wall on the right has completely
crumbled. Also the front door is wide open, swinging ominously.
“Bloody hell. Looks to be abandoned.” The driver turns back to me.
“You sure you have the right address?”
I look down at the itinerary I created for myself then back up at the
building.
“Yes. This is it. Crown House, says it right there on that sign.” The one
hanging sideways off a single hinge, the painted black letters mostly flaked
off so that instead of Crown House, it reads Crow Ho s .
We agree I should scope it out first before I bother retrieving my
luggage from the trunk. As I walk up the short path to the front door, my
boots crunch atop freshly fallen snow.
The sun has nearly set and I’m losing daylight by the second, which is
annoying considering my original travel plan would have had me here hours
ago. My flight landed in Leeds this afternoon, but I was delayed by a small
luggage fiasco. A woman took my suitcase from the carousel, and when I
tried to convince her of her mistake, she shouted for airport security. There
was no confusion on my end.
I’ve had the suitcase for over a decade, and
it’s on its last leg. The wheels only turn when they feel like it, and the
handle is permanently jammed in place. Still, the woman clung to it like her
life depended on it. I had three interviews with customs officials, one ID
check, and a few passes through a metal detector before I got into a cab
with my suitcase to make the journey north. Now, it’s a little past 6:00 p.m.
and Crow Hos is dark inside.
I stop at the front door and poke my head inside. “Hello?”
My voice echoes faintly off the stone walls. The place is empty. There’s
nothing inside except a few pieces of furniture cast off by a previous owner,
maybe one who lived here in—and this is just a ballpark—the Paleolithic
era.
Something suddenly moves to my right, and I jump a mile in the air
before I realize it’s just some rustling leaves. I try to laugh off the scare, but
I still book it back to the cab like there’s an angry ghost at my heels. I’m not
someone to back down from a challenge, but there’s obviously been some
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