Brambletye Chapter Two (standard:drama, 1329 words)
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Feb 17 2026	Views/Reads: 0/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
In searching for background material for his new novel, Tim Carmichael stumbles across the ruins of a sixteenth-century mansion, a girl in a white robe, and a whole lot of trouble.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

oblige. 

I glanced at the dog, too, not keen to prolong my stay in the
circumstances, but nonetheless chanced a question, as the guy seemed to 
assess that I posed no problem. 

“So, the pair I saw ... you know where they come from?” 

“Aye, there's some kind of correctional facility, least they say that's
what it is ...” The man pointed back over his shoulder, though it told 
me little as his outstretched fingers merely indicated a dense copse of 
trees. “Some kind of shadowy institution, they say.” He sniffed, 
rubbing the palm of his hand across his nose. “Way over yonder. But 
now'n'again, they trespass on our – well – the guvnor's property and he 
don't like it – and nor do I. It's like this mornin'. They been 
creeping about in numbers, thinkin' I don't see, till I fired a 
couple'a warning shots in the air. Ought to have been their backsides. 
Anyhow, that scarpered 'em.” 

He shook his head, took a deep breath, and I caught the garlic aroma and
narrowly avoided gagging. “But summat's up,” he went on. “I just can 
feel it. Anyhow,” he said, shaking his head and glancing down at the 
dog, “I need to be gettin' on, stay observant like – and you – you stay 
clear of these grounds, y'hear?” 

“Sure, I hear. Good day to you.” With that, I turned and headed back to
the car, leaving him to go about his business, half expecting his dog 
to yap at my heels or worse, but the guy had it well-trained. I had to 
give him that. 

So, I wondered, leaving the track and crossing past the ruins and
through the soggy grass, this so-called correctional facility – what 
was that all about? And the girl, and the other figure I'd seen giving 
chase, odds were they had to come from there. But the girl, dressed in 
robes, and in this weather? It did nothing to calm my disquiet. 

I clambered over the railings – about three feet high – and then
stopped, frozen in my tracks. I could see that the catch on my car boot 
had been triggered. I was sure I'd closed it before setting out. Making 
for it, I reached for the catch, raised the boot, and stared straight 
into the green eyes of a blonde girl, huddled into the cavity, wearing 
a white robe. 

CHAPTER THREE 

“We've looked everywhere, Mr Smythe, there's not a trace. She might just
as well have vanished into ...” 

“Thin air,” Smythe finished for his correctionist. “Spare me the
cliché,” he said with a scowl, left his desk, and paced to his 
first-floor window, looking out through the trees towards Brambletye. 
He let out a sigh and then swung back, his face a deep red, stabbing a 
finger towards his correctionist. “If you'd have looked everywhere, 
you'd have found her, dimwit! Gone since yesterday morning because you 
let her out of your sight – we can't afford to let her escape, not her 
of all people. She'll go straight to the ...” 

“No, she won't.” The red-faced employee shook his head. “They'd bring
her back here ...” 

“But questions will be asked,” Smythe said, slamming his weighty frame
back into the chair. 

“She can't have gone far dressed as she is. Likely hiding in woodland,
soaked through, no doubt.” 

Smythe picked up a pen and thrust the tip towards his chief
correctionist's smug face. “Which is of little concern to me. I want 
her back – the institution needs her back – and the consortium will be 
after my blood! Her father's a marquess, goddammit.” 

The self-satisfied smile remained on the correctionist's face. “But he's
a marquess under our thumb.” 

“Not if we lose her, you fool. And if she does roam further afield, the
powers that be might not be so willing to return her to us – and if the 
marquess then learns of it, you reckon he won't spill the beans?” 
Smythe sat back and let his words sink in. He saw that self-indulgent 
smile disappear from his employee's face. Good, let that finally get 
through, even if he had just used a cliché himself. “Now, Saunders, I 
want every available man out scouring the field and woods until that 
girl is found, and it better be soon!”

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