her emotions through writing became therapeutic in her battle with depression and in 2014 she decided to publish some of her works.

Stay in touch with the author.

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The Monsters of Pandora

Majanka Verstraete

The Monsters of Pandora © 2020 Majanka Verstraete

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Chapter 1

“I’m willing to bet my entire video games collection that this place is haunted,” Austin said while he threw his bike against the tree.

“Don’t be an idiot. Ghosts aren’t real.” Emlyn moved next to me, linking her arm with mine. “What do you think, Faye?”

I licked my lips, trying to act tough despite the nerves swirling in my belly. “I think we should stop dawdling and start fniding a way to access the building.”

Before us loomed the infamous Ash House, a three-story dilapidated mansion standing in the middle of the forest. The ground floor counted eight windows divided into three sections, and the second story had nine of them. The middle section of the house was flanked by two towers starting on the first floor and reaching beyond the roof. The windows in the middle were slightly larger than the ones on the side and surrounded an enormous wooden door, of which the left part was hanging off its hinges.

The house seemed to have a basement as well, because underneath the larger windows, tiny windows poked out on ground-level. The attic itself had two stories, and the roof was covered in blue-grey tiles.

Once upon a time, the house probably had another name, but in our town it had been known as ‘Ash House’ since a terrible fire had wrecked through it more than fifteen years ago. The skeleton of the house remained, but based on the accounts of the few people in town who actually dared to speak up about it, the inside was charred, covered in soot and debris.

The wrought-iron gate before us looked like it would spring open with one solid kick. It surprised me that there was no graffiti decorating the gates or the fence surrounding the property, and although I couldn’t see it clearly from my position, I didn’t think there was anything scribbled on the outside of the house either.

“This was a stupid idea.” Austin pulled the zipper on his hoodie up, as if he thought the piece of clothing would provide an extra layer of protection between him and the ghosts we might encounter within the crumbling mansion.

“You thought it was pretty cool at first,” I shot back at him. “Besides, it’s just a house. You weren’t terrified when we went exploring in the old brewery on the other side of town.”

Austin scrunched up his nose. “That was different.”

“Why was it different?” Emlyn walked toward the gates and pulled at them, trying to pry them open.

“For starters, we found pictures of the brewery online on those urbex websites,” Austin said. “We already had a good idea of the security in place, and of the layout of the place.”

I moved next to Emlyn and pulled at the wrought-iron gate as well. I had expected a locked chain around it—heck, I had even contemplated purchasing bolt cutters in the DIY store for that very purpose, blowing through my entire allowance—but there was nothing indicating the gate was even locked. It squeaked when we pushed it, and I figured it had rusted in place, not having moved in over a decade.

“But why didn’t we come across any other urban explorers whatsoever who went and explored Ash House?” Austin asked while he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Because no one knows it exists.” Emlyn rattled the gates some more. Her long jeans had more holes in them than a golf court, and her black t-shirt showcased an indie band no one outside of our town had ever heard of. One side of her blonde hair with pink highlights was shaved short, and the other side sported a pixie cut. Her one ear had seven piercings, and she also had a nose ring. Of the three of us, she certainly looked—and was—the biggest badass. In comparison, with my standard jeans, bland green t-shirt and hoodie, I looked more like a sidekick than a hero ready for action.

Still, it had been my idea to come here and explore Ash House, so I guessed I wasn’t a total wuss myself.

Austin, on the other hand, had about as much courage as a beggar had money.

“Everyone in town knows about Ash House,” Austin kept on nagging apparently still not ready to drop the topic. “I wager the locked-down factory is even more of a secret than this place. If you think about it, a condo like this in the middle of the woods should be the natural habitat of some stoners, or some goths with a tasty for the macabre. For urban explorers, this place is heaven.” He seemed to be trying to make a point neither Emlyn nor I were particularly interested in. “So, why is no one here, guys? And not only now, but never? Why are there no movies of drones flying past, or urban explorers showcasing pictures of this place on their websites?”

“That’s the coolest thing about it,” I told him while I moved from the gate to the fence. The iron fence was still sturdy

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