From its origins as a family home when first built in 1890 the story of Calstone House has been stained with sadness, tragedy and horror. The events that have taken part in the house and its grounds have left their infection in the very walls and foundations of the property even today.

In 1890 Sir Michel Calstone married the orphan Miss Alessia Wincham and had Calstone House built in preparation for his family. By 1896 the couple were still childless and then in August of that year Alessia mysteriously disappeared.

1911 - Dr Sebastien Cale proven to be Sir Michel's illegitimate son becomes the new owner of Calstone House and transforms it into a private clinic and hospital for the criminally insane. The clinic is open until 1924 when the house is found closed under horrific circumstances and Dr Cale has disappeared never to be found again either alive or dead...

1969 - August. The house has been empty and abandoned for decades when it is purchased by a woman calling herself Ms Elinor Wincham. She transforms the house back to its former glory and opens it as a Guest house. She opens the doors to the public on Halloween.

Over the years the Guest house has become more and more rundown, the house darker and more neglected yet it is still open to those guests desperate enough to stay here.
Rumour has it that many people have checked into the Guest house and indeed many have checked out but they are never seen again. Then theres the room in the cellar full of luggage and belongings from the missing guests - did they leave all their things behind?

1890 - The wealthy long time bachelor Sir Michel Calstone shocks High Society when he takes Miss Alessia Wincham as his wife. Miss Wincham is a young woman, 26 years younger than the 46 year old Sir Michel, her family background is poor and the girl is an orphan.

The Wedding is held in a small church with only Sir Michels closest friens in attendance.

The couple seem happy and in love.

Sir Michel and Lady Alessia will shortly be moving into the mansion that Sir Michel has commissioned to celebrate his marriage and house the family he is certain his wife will bear.

1891 however Alessia was to lose the only child the couple were to have together. A baby girl that died as Alessia was giving birth.

She felt as if she had lost half of herself, Alessia had longed for a child and now there was nothing but a small grave and an empty nursery were all was ready for a child that did not exist.

Alessia spent hours sitting in the empty nursery dreaming of what might have been.

However Sir Michel was less than kind to his poor wife. He blamed her for the loss of his first born and then added.
"But then after all is said and done it was only a girl - useless like all females. What I need, what you will provide me with as a proper wife should is a son, a real heir!"

Over time he became cold to her and then as the years passed and they remained childess his coldness grew to hatred and abuse. He blamed her for what he saw as her failure as a woman and deception in marrying him.

Soon Alessia became almost a recluse - a prisoner in a guilded cage where even the household servants openly showed their hatred towards her. The servants were loyal to the Master of the house - Sir Michel, for the woman who had disappointed and failed him they had no pity, no remorse and no kindness.

Being of poor background Alessia was shunned by the other members of High Society and those from her own upbringing were afraid to approach her now she was Lady Calstone.

Loneliness became despair and she found herself finding some little amount of solstice in the large conservatory of the house where she began to spend more and more of her time.

Sir Michel spent his time away from home, his hatred open before all the household. He had the servants spy on his failure of a wife, reporting on her every move.

Soon though things would change, in Summer of 1896...

August 1896

One hot Summer night Alessia was alone in the house, even the servants were gone for a few days - a holiday offered them by Sir Michel. For once she could breathe freely.

Having gone to bed reasonably late she was surprised when she woke at 2.30am, the room was dark except for a single lamp by the bed she kept on out of habit. Silence reigned - what had woken her?

Rising slowly from the bed she crossed the room to the open window near the fireplace, usually the windows were closed at night - one of Sir Michel's rules that she obeyed without question. But he was away as were the servants and the night was so hot so she had made this small act of defiance. A cool night breeze blew in through the open window caressing her through the thin lace and cotton of her night gown.

At first all she heard was the singing of the night insects and the breeze but then as she moved away from the window she heard a scream!

Long, piercing and afraid chilling her and causing goosebumps on her skin.

The scream died almost immediately, her heart was pounding in her chest.

Sir Michel had all but destroyed what little courage and force of will she had, therefore she moved to close the window and return to bed. She could always try to persuade herself that the scream was a wild animal in the woods that surrounded the rear of the gardens and not that of another human being.

Her hand reached for the handle of the window latch, her fingers curling over the iron form. Just as she turned the handle to close the window the scream sounded again, longer this time.

A scream full of pain, helplessness and solitude.

Letting her hand fall away from the window she crossed the room and walked out onto the upper hallway. She had to see if she could help whomever was making the pitiful noise.

The polished floor of the upper hall was cold on her barefeet, but Alessia knew if she returned to her room to fetch her slippers then what little courage she had would desert her.

Gas lamps flickered on the walls warming her as she descended the grand stairs to the main hall. The scream had come from the East wing of the house, so very close to her bedroom. Going through the music room would be the quickest route.

The music room was warm and smelt still of the cigars and perfume from Sir Michels guest a couple of days ago. She had been forced by her husband to play the piano for them, their cigar smoke still clung to the dress she had worn that night.

Reaching the glass paned doors that led to the outer terrace she let in the fragrant night air that temporarily at least swept away the other odours.

Outside the night air was still warm and humid, her nightgown felt almost heavy on her but she enjoyed the coolness of the damp grass on her bare feet.

The house in all its splendour loomed behind her and the perfume of the roses filled her senses. A smile crossed her lips, a smile that was quickly killed by the scream that filled the air once more - a scream that seemed to be coming from the roses...

Moving to a spot where the gardener was to replant some roses she knelt in the damp grass, in the brick foundations of the house were windows. The glass in one of the windows was broken hence why she could hear the voice.

The scream had come from inside her own home!

Her palms were damp with perspiration as she rose to her feet, who was in her house? Trapped and terrified? How had they gotten there? Who had held them there?

Quickly she re-entered the house, the only access to the cellar was via Sir Michel's inner sanctum - his study. Infact from the day of their marriage Sir Michel had forbidden her ever to enter the cellar claiming it was full of dangerous objects unfit for the health of his wife. It was a rule she had never questioned, but now she wondered why he had been so adamant about it.

Crossing the hall she hesitated at the door of Sir Michel's study, he had never forbidden her to enter but she had never dared, never even thought about entering his den of masculinity. Now however she had no choice not if she wanted to help the unfortunate trapped in the cellar.

The door was unlocked as she almost expected it to be. The air still smelt of Sir Michel's expensive cigars, the fire long since cold and the predominant smell that was Sir Michel himself. Her barefeet made almost no noise as she crossed the room, the door to the cellar was almost obscured by the bookcases and plants that filled that area of the room. Reaching the panelled door she realised this was the true turning point.

Could she ignore all the rules of Sir Michel, the years of mental abuse had taken their told on her and she had become a much weaker person as a result. However she remembered the scream, so full of helplessness, solitude and fear - an echo of her own feelings only amplified. She couldn't ignore what she had heard, she had to find the unfortunate in the cellar and give what aid she could.

Amazing story! You have me on the edge of my seat and I can't wait to read more!

The door leading to the cellar steps was not locked but stiff to push open. Instead of the dusty wooden stairwell she had expected there was a flight of relatively clean stone steps leading down to the darkness flickering with gas light. It struck her as odd that the cellar would be lit, Sir Michel was so strict about not wasting lights in the house - why would the cellar be lit?

Her barefeet made little noise on the steps as she descended into the cellar, the stone was clammy on her bare skin and she wished she had taken the time to get her slippers. But if she had returned to her room for that little bit of comfort then surely she wouldn't be here now breaking Sir Michel's most important rule about never entering the cellar?

At the bottom of the steps was a metal door, it was well oiled and made only a slight shush noise as she pushed it open.

Beyond the doorway the cellar was tiled and filthy, the smell of the gas lights mingling with something she couldn't identify but that made her stomach roll as if ready to vomit. The tiled walls were filthy and the floor broken in places leaving patches of dirt. There were passages seemingly endless and doorways, some open and others closed.

Taking the door closest to her she entered what looked to be a laboratory, instruments and shelves holding books and jars. In the centre of the room was a wooden chair with a pool of congealing blood under it - bile rose in her throat making her gag. Beside the chair was a small metal trolley and laid out on its surface were surgical instruments.

Holding her hand over her mouth to stop any bile she almost ran from the room. Why was such a place here? In her home? Who would have created such a sick place? In her heart she thought she knew already but even Sir Michel could not be so cruel and twisted surely?

If the laboratory had filled her with disgust the next room made her blood turn to ice and she had to stop herself from being sick.

The heat in this room was stifling, but it wasn't the heat that scared her. This was an execution chamber, complete with a guillotine, metal cabinets were built into the wall and there was blood everywhere!!!

She moved further into the room and cried out as she saw the rusty shackles bolted to the blood stained walls, then vomit filled her mouth and she couldn't stop herself from losing her supper on the floor.

At the foot of the guillotine was a basket still containing a human head in a badly decomposing state....

The cellar was a nightmare, it couldn't be possible that Sir Michel didn't at least suspect what was down here, and if so then he condoned it or worse was the cause behind it.

Wiping her mouth free of drool she stood ready to leave the cellar, she didn't want to see any more. She wasn't strong enough to face anything else down here, her self courage had been destroyed years ago now she had nothing left.

Leaving the room she turned to walk back towards where the stairwell was, the trouble was all the passages looked the same. The cellar was a true labyrinth...

Alessia realised she had turned down the wrong passage and turned around, just as she moved she heard a voice. Not a scream this time, not even a strong voice, a weak almost whispered voice that sent her heart into her throat.

Clenching her fists she moved down the passage to the sound of the voice, as she drew closer she realised that the speaker was praying, slowly she understood the words being spoken.

"Please God, let me die now. Before he comes back, grant me at last the peace you have denied me for so long. Please just let this finish. Let me die."

The voice was full of loss, hopelessness and despair. She couldn't abandon whoever it was.

Pushing open yet another metal door she stifled a cry. It was a room attached to the furnace of the house, a huge pipe filled one side of the room and windows looked out at the garden, one of the panes was cracked. The thing that filled her with fear were the rusting manacles attached to the walls, the pools of blood still fresh on the floor and the three figures, all male, all battered and bloody, all unmoving.

At first she feared they were all dead, then she realised that the man closest to her was moving, feebly, he was face down in what unfortunately was most likely his own blood.

Her skin prickling with goosebumps she moved further into the room and over to the man.

As she reached the man he crawled over to her and managed to sit up, he was a young and relatively handsome man despite the cuts, bruises and scars that marred his face and torso. Sweat matted his hair as he looked up at her.

"An angel? My prayers have they truly been answered?" his voice was hoarse and full of pain.

"No, not an angel, but I can help you. Help you leave this place. Can you stand?"

"Its too late for me, I can feel the shadows closing." the mans voice was dropping to a whisper yet he managed a small smile as Alessia sobbed.

"I am not afraid to die my lady, finally I will be free of my pain. But please one favour before I go. The man who kept me prisoner here, he did unspeakable things to me but worse he took my young sister Ellasbeth. If you can then please help her, get her away from here. Don't let him claim her life too."

Tears fell down her cheeks, this young man was only moments from death. She promised to do whatever she could, how could she refuse? If his sister was a prisoner here then she couldn't be far away, with chance Alessia could find her and then she would leave. Not just the cellar but everything, Calstone house had been her gilded cage for far too long.

A cry of pain came from the young man and he fell onto his back, raising one hand to her for comfort. Alessia held his hand close to her cheek and cried silently as the man died beside her, his name unknown, she the only witness to his passing.

Moments passed before she released the mans now cold hand and stood. Time was passing and she had to see if she could fulfill her promise to the dead man.

As she stood, the lace of her nightgown caught on the broken tiles and tore. Stained with blood and dirt, torn and dishevelled she left the room and re-entered the main passage of the cellar.

The cellar was large but not unending, there was only the last side of the cellar, the place from where the scream had originated. Was Ellasbeth the screamer? What would Alessia find in this last area of shadows and nightmares?

Her skin was damp with perspiration causing her nightgown to glue itself to her, she smelt of damp, sweat and things too unpleasant to think about. She was becoming used to the dim light and the hiss and smell of the gas light.

Arriving at the last room she pushed open the door...

Tied to a chair in the centre of the room was a young girl, her braided hair hanging over her face. Her arms crossed over her head the girl was sobbing.

"Please, no more. I beg of you. No more."

"I am here to help you, don't worry any more. Are you Ellasbeth?"

The girl raised her head, Alessia gasped, the girls face was covered in cuts, bruises and blood both fresh and dried. Who could have done such a thing to anyone? The girl could not have been much more than 15 or 16 years old.

"Y-yes, I'm Ellasbeth. How do you know my name Miss?"

Alessia was loath to explain but felt she owed it to the girl
"Your brother, he asked me to find you and help you."

"Arthur? Where is he? Is he ok?" The girls voice broke off as she saw the look on Alessia's face.

"Oh no, not Arthur. Please not him."

The girl let her tears fall freely down her face and Alessia felt tears trickling down her own cheeks. The young man - Arthur had died in apalling circumstance, she would aid his sister with her last breath.

Breathing heavily Alessia walked to the side of the chair, but the binds holding Ellasbeth to the chair were too tight to unfasten by hand. Shrugging her shoulders in defeat she cast her eyes around the room.

The tears in her eyes blinded her so she almost missed the table near the chair, its surface holding a set of gleaming, sharp and unfortunately stained surgical instruments. Picking up a scalpel she moved back to the chair...

Her back to the door Alessia didn't see the figure that stood in the doorway, a sinister smile playing upon his lips. The watcher raised one finger to his lips in the gesture of silence as he looked at the fear filled, tear streaked face of Ellasbeth.

Softly the man entered the room.

A cry of panic flew from the lips of Ellasbeth.

Alessia spun round, the scalpel still in her hand. Her blood ran cold as she realised the man had entered the room.

"Well, well. My dear wife, you decided to disobey me. I see you've discovered my little pastime."

Sir Michel had returned....

Turning quickly Alessia let out a cry of dismay and fear as she saw her husband standing in the open door framed by the gas light, dressed correctly as always as if awaiting dinner guests for the evening. In that moment she detested him, and she knew she had always disliked him her dislike growing to fear and detest as time went on.

The scalpel felt almost familiar in her hand, as Sir Michel stepped into the room she realised she was alone. Whatever happened here would never be discovered...

Her heart pounding she lunged at him with the scalpel, instinctively Sir Michel stepped backward giving her the space and precious few seconds she needed to escape the room.

In her fear she forgot all about Ellasbeth, all that mattered was that she escape, leave the room, the twisting passages of the cellar, Calstone House itself. She needed fresh air and to try and leave the nightmares she had seen tonight far behind her.

Gas light cast flickering brightness on the dark walls as she ran through the passages she had already traced, her breath coming from her lips in harsh ragged sounds, her feet slipping on the soiled ground.

All she had to do was find the door that led back into the main house, from there she would be safe...

Reaching the door to the stairwell she let out a scream of fear, Sir Michel stepped out of the shadows.

"Alessia, my dear. What took you so long? Clearly you don't know the cellar as well as I but then you weren't its architect - I was."

She back up as he moved towards her.
"You've disappointed me dear, first in your failure as a woman and my wife - your inepititude in providing me with an heir has been marked by the member os my club and honestly I would have gotten rid of you anyway. After all I need to save face. Then you came down here, breaking my rules - for that I'll have to punish you."

With a swift move he struck her across the face cutting open her bottom lip and making her cry out with pain. Blood spattered her lips and chin as she faced him.

"Why Michel? For the love of God why? What have you done to those poor people? Those young men, one died in my arms and that young girl. You're a monster!"

"A monster? No my dear merely a man of means who needed a new level of delights and pleasure. Yes young men, more than those who now linger here and more young women. Men and women who have satisfied all my desires, my bloodlust, my sexual appetites and more. No one will miss them and no one will miss you when you join them."