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Tuesday, 18 March 2014  |  Posted by Brenda Drake

Genre: MG Horror

Word Count: 48,000


Molly Brown soon learns that every item in Mrs Grainger’s shop has a gruesome history. But when her best friend goes missing, she has to uncover the owner’s sinister past before she’s next in line.


The hands on the large clock in the town square had only just inched past four o’clock, but the small town of Malreward was already swathed in shadows. The air was heavy with that peculiar November perfume, a blend of bonfires, frost and forgotten apples left to rot in the orchard. Low on the horizon, a lone star twinkled in greeting.

As the pavements began to sparkle, the townsfolk wrapped scarves tightly around their necks and hurried home, eager to be settled in front of a roaring fire with the door locked and their hands around a steaming mug of tea. While some towns and cities came alive in the evening, with bright lights, cheery restaurants and glittering theatres, Malreward put up the shutters and left the night to its own devices.

Given its history, it was the sensible thing to do.

Strange and unsettling events happened after dark here. Unearthly cries echoed through the streets. Dark figures flitted past curtained windows. Twigs snapped in the hedgerows without reason.

Sometimes, children disappeared.

When the night stretched out its inky fingers in this little town, only the foolish lingered.

Or those not quite yet old enough to know better.

Ten-year-old Molly Brown was lingering. She shuffled up and down the pavement, kicking imaginary cans while casting a sneaky glance across the street every few seconds. Had Dave Williamson, the town’s policeman, been passing, he would undoubtedly have paused to observe the girl and check to make sure she wasn’t planning anything illegal. Clue Logo JPEG

Mr. Boddy lays beside his Jaguar XK convertible in the garage bleeding profusely from a large gash in his head. The door left ajar, the tools on the work bench across the bay scattered. An empty manila envelope is found on the floor of the Jaguar with the words “Photos Do Not Bend” stamped on it.

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