Fiction Friday: Galloway House Pt. 4

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[Welcome to Part 4 of Galloway House. If you have missed any of the previous installments you can find them here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3. And as always...thanks for reading!]

 

As Joseph Strunk sat down for a meal with his family, he imagined it was considerably more subdued than other dinner tables around Townsley. The arrival of the stranger would no doubt dominate every conversation. Theories would be discussed. Assumptions would be made. And thanks to the lack of facts and evidence, it was safe to assume that fear would grow and spread before night’s end.

Joseph chewed thoughtfully on leftover chicken and remembered the looks of wonder and awe on the other villager’s faces as the storm had rolled in. The hissing sounds of their whispered concerns whipping by on the growing winds. And then, how they had all fallen silent—momentarily stunned he supposed—as their widened eyes drew like magnets to the unfamiliar car as it rolled into town. He had watched as the shock and confusion morphed its way into curiosity.

“Who is that?” Ben Waller had said.

And although he was the only one within earshot of the question, Joseph hadn’t dared to assume it was directed toward him. Ben was Townsley’s only lawyer. In a town where everything had its place, there was certainly no slot that would involve a conversation between a lawyer and a garbage man. Joseph wandered off before the conversation continued, but he was sure it was filled with misinformation and speculation.

What he really knew was that he had just witnessed the seeds of fear being planted. A fear that would not bloom in his household. Neither Joseph nor his wife, Clara, were afraid and their children were much too young to care about the village’s goings on.

No matter how historic.

Watching his children’s chubby cheeks bob and squish as they ate their dinner, he considered their future. The Strunk family had lived in Townsley for almost as long as the village existed, but have never at any point been affluent members of the community. At least not under the definition of what seemed to matter these days.  Theirs was a wealth whose currency was knowledge. Secrets passed down from generation to generation. Ones that involved the truth behind why Galloway house stood abandoned and shrouded in mystery for so long. And more importantly, what it meant now that an heir to the Galloway legacy had returned. 

[Read Part 5 here]

Fiction Friday: [Galloway House Pt. 3]

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[If you need to catch up on previous installments of Galloway House, you can click here to read Part One or here to read Part Two]

Kate Winstead’s shoulders rubbed against the intricately carved wooden door as she tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t just the ominous weather or the flash of lightning that had struck too closely as she exited the car that ignited the booming in her chest. She couldn’t quite shake the creepy stares of the locals as she drove into town. The way they stood almost catatonic, every eye piercing through the comfort and security of her tinted windows, sent an uneasiness creeping over her as wholly as the approaching clouds darkened the sky.

As she listened to the rain pattering against the roof outside, and the house sighing and groaning like a bored, petulant child inside, Kate regretted having to make the trip alone. Her husband had offered to accompany her, but she convinced him it would be best not to use up any more sick days. The truth was that he wasn’t a Galloway. Allowing him to come would only open the door to questions she couldn’t answer.

 A mechanical buzzing drew her attention and she followed it to one of the many automatic light timers spread throughout the house. With each passing second, the cloud cover dipped the sky into deeper shades of gray. The house would be cloaked in darkness before the timers had a chance to do their job. Clicking on the lights, Kate took in the sheet-covered furnishings and was surprised at how much she remembered even though she hadn’t been within Townsley’s borders since she was five.  

She walked over to the rocking chair in the sitting room and pulled the sheet, sending sparkles of dust into the air. Her eyes drifted across the ivy leaves carved into its curved back and traveling down along the arms. A burgundy pillow with an elaborately crossstitched “G” was still perched on the seat. Kate’s mind flooded with memories of sitting on her grandmother’s lap, listening to tales about their family. A memory that would make most nostalgic made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle.

Kate questioned again whether she should have come. Whether any of this was even necessary. What if she was acting on the whim of a family tradition born from unwell minds? On tales passed down and told so often they morphed into an undisputable truth? With every mile traveled to Townsley, the more she had believed that to be the case. But what if she was wrong? The consequences were too great to find out, so it wasn’t a chance she could take. She hadn't wanted the responsibility, but Kate was the last living Galloway and she had a job to do.

READ PART 4 HERE.