The Summer of 76 Volume 1

The Summer of 76 Volume 1

Status: In Progress

Genre: Horror


Status: In Progress

Genre: Horror


Prepare to be afraid. How reliable is the narrator. Volume 2 in progress


Prepare to be afraid.

How reliable is the narrator. Volume 2 in progress

Chapter1 (v.1) - Loxford Hall

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 16, 2020

Reads: 150

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 16, 2020



The long hot summer of '76. Despite everything we hear about the swinging sixties, sexual liberation didn't even reach the end of the drive up to the door of Loxford Hall, he medium ranked girls public school to which my parents had sent me.


Loxford Hall: a big Victorian redbrick building, set in its own grounds, or demesne, in the middle of the Derbyshire hills. Cold, isolated, perhaps romantic in a strange Gothic Horror way.


A school typical of public schools in 1976. Unheated, cold baths, miserable food, second rate teaching and governed by a group of frustrated harpies keeping order by the use of a host of more than condign punishments.


I was sent there at the start of the summer holidays when it would have been expected that we girls would be spending a few happy weeks away from school with their families.


But my family was no ordinary family, my parents were separated and my mother had gone to live with 'Uncle' Emil on the Riviera. Father was in the diplomatic posted to Africa, where he had deemed it unsafe for me to go.


It had ever been thus. I had always had the feeling that I was an unfortunate mistake. That my parents felt that I had been sent to get in the way of their, to them, perfect lives. Father devoted to his career, and mother devoted to a string of unsuitable gigolos and paramours.


It was not as if I was an unattractive child: short perhaps, and slightly too heavily built, but with big bosoms, an attractive face and straight hair of a colour usually described as 'chestnut'.


I was not particularly sociable though. I tried to work hard and keep out of trouble. Not like Lulu.


I had no other relatives, except for a dotty old grandmother living in the Wilds of Woolly, and not even my parents would send a sixteen year old girl to live with somebody like that.


That is probably why I ended up in Loxford - sent there at the start of the summer holidays. Myself and a few other girls abandoned by their families. Among these was my room mate Lulu.


We didn't mix much with the other girls, Lulu seemed to want my companionship and I was strangely attracted to her.


When I think about Lulu, I think about a girl seeming old for her seventeen years: a beauty, a romantic, a girl who not only looked romantic but seemed to embody the essence of romanticism. What dark events in her life had bereft her of friends and relatives I never knew, but it had left her with a depth of soul which I could never hope to match.


That sultry August evening the sun was just coming down towards the horizon. It must have been sometime between eight and nine, as the school had a strict curfew and we had to be in our rooms by eight thirty engaged in improving activities.


Lulu sat at the open window reading Byron. She was on the fourth canto of Don Juan (a book expressly forbidden as likely to bring salacious thoughts to the minds of young girls), alternately reading and looking out over the wild hills of the Dark Peak.


It must be explained that salacious thoughts and methods for their prevention were a constant preoccupation of the staff at Loxford Hall, who knew only too well the effect of burgeoning sexuality on pubescent girls.


She looked lovely, dressed only in her pyjamas, her copper coloured hair let down, her long slim legs, tucked up, her small breasts just visible where she had left the top button of her pyjama jacket undone. She was an extraordinary beauty. Imagine Lizzie Siddall as painted by Rosetti and you get the idea.


She seemed deep in thought, frowning constantly as if something preyed on her mind, possessed her, blotting out the book, the room, me. Suddenly she put the book down and turned to me with those extraordinary green eyes of hers. The eyes that gave her that bewitching romantic look.


"Coming?" she asked.


"What do you mean 'Coming', you idiot? We're on curfew remember."


"Curfew. Who cares about that."


She was off on another of her trips. She hadn't really wanted me along I felt. And I knew what she had in mind. She did this some times; climbed down the wisteria that clung to the old stone walls and set off across the peak in search of...? In search of what I was not to discover until much later.


Without another word, she shrugged again and swung herself out onto the sill and then down the wall of the house and onto the gravel drive that led down to the lodge and freedom. I let her go. She'd be back by midnight.


She wasn't.


The night was light, with a full moon and I stayed up hoping to see her slight figure striding back up the drive. But she didn't come.


By six in the morning I was frantic. Should I wake Miss Trevelyan the iron willed and iron haired house mistress in charge of the school in the absence of Miss Dodds, the headmistress. She would have the police out. There would be a frightful fuss and Lulu would probably be sacked (that is expelled).


I couldn't bear that. Surely she must get back soon. I could think of only one thing to do. I swung out onto the Wisteria myself and, terrified, clumsily clambered down, falling the last few feet into a flower bed and shattering a cucumber frame.


A struggled to my feet and limped down the drive. I was still twenty yards from the end when she came into view, rounding the wall of the demesne and entering the drive.


She was riding a milk white pony, no saddle, no bridle; her long auburn hair hung down her back almost to her waist, and she was stark naked except for a black velvet collar and one black velvet garter round her left thigh. Each bore a single ruby red gemstone.


"Lulu!" I shrieked, "what are you doing!" but she just smiled back at me with a strange seraphic smile.


"Girls!" What are you doing, "My office at once!"


I turned to see Miss Trevelyan. The martinet, wakened by my clumsy crash into the frame, was dressed in her dressing gown and looked as furious as I'd ever seen her.

© Copyright 2020 Joex. All rights reserved.


Add Your Comments:


More Great Reading

Popular Tags