I have awesome news! Are you ready for this? (Drumroll, please.) We’re officially beginning the renovations of Black Wood House! Joe and I are demolishing the kitchen tomorrow, and our builders have been uh-may-zing. Shout-out to the guys at Handyman Dan’s!
Over the next month we’ll be removing all the flooring (goodbye, hideous Formica!) and installing a gorgeous new onyx marble splash back.
Now comes the fun bit! We’ll be installing all new cabinets, countertops, and lighting, which I’ve already splurged on (links below—no discount code yet, I’m afraid!).
Can’t wait to share the before and after pics of the kitchen. You’re going to be amazed!
Sarah x
Thank fuck that’s done. I disable comments and hit post. Then I snap the laptop shut and crawl into bed, and minutes later, I’m asleep.
I dream of an office full of clients sleeping in overstuffed armchairs. I step inside. It’s warm in here,cozy.I shrug off my coat and realize that everyone has fallen silent. Their eyes are blank and soulless. I wait at the door, stomach churning.
And that’s when I realize. The clients in the armchairs aren’t asleep at all.
They’re dead.
I stagger back in the dream, throat seizing up with panic. My back presses into the closed door, but I still don’t run. I cover my mouth with my hand, holding back a scream, and a young woman comes charging forward.
Her face is hard. Her eyes glisten with angry tears. She is all teeth and tears.
She is my sister.
She points at me, poking me hard in the shoulder.How could you? How could you?
I wake up, gasping.
Lizzy. Lizzy.
It’s been months since I dreamed of my younger sister. I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. God, I miss her. I wish I could call her, wish she’d listen. I haven’t heard her voice in years.
I stare at the ceiling, my pulse beating hard in the base of my throat, Mr. Whitman’s warning ringing in my head.The house made him crazy.
“Houses can’t make people crazy,” I say breathlessly. I roll over and plump my pillow. “And I’m not crazy either.”
My words hang there like a lie. So I say it again, firmer this time. “I amnotcrazy.”
Creak.
I lift my head off the pillow and listen. There’s something outside my door.
Creak, creak, creak.
I stop breathing. It’s dark now, my room lit only by the blue light of my phone charger. It casts an eerie glow around the room, washing the forest scene in a murky blue.
Meowwww.
Reaper. I fling the cover off my bed and pad quickly to the hallway, not even remembering to bring my phone with me. The unwelcome memory of Reaper springing onto my bed, frantic and shaking, spills through my mind. God, what if he’s sick again?
Meowwwwwwwww.
“Reaper?” I call out, wrapping my arms around myself. It’s freezing, and my hands are stinging with cold. The hallway is dark as shit. There’s no light switch here yet, only a narrow strip of darkness.
“Reap?”
Meow.
I sense he’s close. I step forward into the gaping dark, keeping my hand on the wall, trailing my fingers across it. I keep my eyes down, afraid I’ll step on him. I must be halfway down the dark hallway when I finally spot him. I freeze. My hands are numb with cold and fear.
