Ambrose Ibsen [Ibsen - Black Acres- The Complete Collection

I have a tendency to ramble when I get nostalgic, so Ill try and keep this short.

In the summer of 2015, I set out to write a serialized novel. Specifically, a haunted house story. Those of you who have followed my work in subsequent years may have noticed that the haunted house theme is one Ive returned to many, many times. Theres a reason for that. Haunted houses lend themselves so well to any number of treatments. The scenery of the haunted house, the dark corners and hidden histories of such, contain so supreme a brand of intrigue that Ill never tire of them.

At the time I wrote the first installment of Black Acres, In Absentia, Id published very little. My first full-length novel, Wretchedness, was at that point in its earliest phases. Id put out a novella entitled Orchard in spring of that same year, but wanted to try my hand at writing something longer and more complicated.

I remember pacing the floor of my old townhome (pacing is something I tend to do a whole lot of when hammering out the details of a new story) and trying to piece things together. The plot details were scribbled onto a number of dogeared legal pads, and the moment I felt Id built a solid foundation, I began hammering out a first draft.

I wrote the first two chapters of this story in a white heat while sipping coffees at my local Starbucks in the minutes before sunrise. The remainder of the story was completed in dribs and drabslong nights spent typing at the kitchen table when the kids had been put to bed, or hurriedly typed during lunch breaks at work.

I was very proud of the thing when I finished it, and was prouder still when positive reviews from perfect strangers began to trickle in. The success of Black Acres helped to solidify my confidence as a writer of horror. Since then, Ive published more than twenty full-length novels, have worked with many talented narrators in producing audiobook versions of my books and have even fielded a bit of interest from Hollywood (dont get too excited at this lastmovies are a tough nut to crack!).

Here you will find my serialized novel presented as a single, lengthy work.

Please, enjoy!

Ambrose Ibsen

July 3rd, 2018

The tires kicked up gravel as they dug into the snaking driveway.

Julian turned to her and grimaced. The house was coming into view just ahead. It was a big house, but it still looked awfully small to warrant the superlative estate. I can't wait to stretch my damn legs, he yawned, wiping at the corner of his eye and giving the wheel a slight nudge to the left. I feel like we've been in the car for days.

Kim leaned back in her seat and stretched out, one of her flip-flops dropping off in the process. You and me both.

Their visit was owed to a brief internet posting. For a few months now they'd been scouring the web for real estate listings, looking for something that they might fashion into a dream home. The Beacon estate was at the end of a long line, the latest in an effort to find an HGTV-worthy diamond in the rough. They had very strong opinions on what sort of house they were looking for, and they knew just how they'd renovate and decorate it once they'd found it, from the countertops they'd select for the kitchen down to the finish of the furniture in the living room.

From the very first, the look of the Beacon estate threw them both for a loop, however.

The two of them leaned forward in their seats in near-unison, looking it over narrowly as it loomed large just ahead of them. Stopping at the end of the lengthy driveway they idled for a time and studied its exterior, a smooth, beige stucco. They'd seen a few grainy photos online, but in-person the building possessed an arresting quality. The seeming bastard child of a smattering of architectural styles, the first story appeared long and wide, with numerous bay windows jutting out towards the woods at the rear of the property. Perched atop it in relative simplicity was the second story, a narrower, somewhat boxy thing that terminated in a black, slanted roof. The shingles looked not unlike a bolt of black hair atop a long and malformed head. Neither of them could come up with a detailed critique of the house right off the bat. It had character. That was about all either of them could say.

Julian shut off the car and stepped out, stretching and carrying on with exaggerated vocalizations. He placed his palms against the outside of the sedan and squatted down, testing his range of motion and reawakening the muscles in his legs that'd gone dormant over the long car ride. Kim stepped out, yawning as the autumn sunlight washed over her. There was a pleasant, earth-scented breeze pouring in off of the woods. The sky was mostly blue, save for patches of wispy white clouds peppered throughout. She stationed herself against the hood of the car and poked her husband in the side as he ambled by. So, we're supposed to be meeting the guy here, right?

Nodding, Julian looked this way and that. Yep. He said he'd meet us here, outside. And we're right on time. Dunno where he's at. We should have a walk around the house in the mean time. Get a good look at it, you know? That way, if there's something hideous about it-- and I'm not loving the look of that cupola up there-- we can take off before he gets here, yeah?

She laughed. Yeah, all right.

They paced around the perimeter of the house, taking in the sights and sucking in lungfuls of the gorgeous breeze. The air out here was different than it was back in the city. Julian had talked about living out on a farm as a kid, had said again and again how different it was from city life. Only now was she beginning to understand what he meant. A dyed in the wool city-dweller, Kim had never spent much time in rural settings. She was used to the constant clatter of pedestrians in the street outside their apartment, the sounds of rush-hour traffic as a backdrop to their dinners, the smell of exhaust in the air. The marked lack of these things was baffling and interesting to her, if not a little disorienting.

Pausing before the back door of the house, they peered up at the small balcony, at the beige cupola Julian had taken such an exception to, at the dust-choked, heavy-looking windows that peered down at them from up above. They pushed on, marveling at the grounds as they went. Stacks of sun-bleached logs littered the back yard. Who'd put them there or how long they'd sat was hard to say. There was a fire pit, clogged up by the refuse of the changing seasons and fallen into disuse. The grass was tall in places, absent in others. Julian opined on the patchy lawn as they rounded the other side of the house and appraised yet more of the heavy windows with their thick, wooden frames.

All the while, they stole occasional glances at the woods, which came up a hundred yards or so from the back door of the abode and stretched on for what seemed to be an incalculable distance. The trees shot up from the ground like thick Roman columns, but not a one of them seem to have anything in the way of leaves. The limbs jutting out from the ash-colored trunks were all shrunken and bare, and the forest floor was curiously clear of fallen leaves. Though Kim was no expert on trees, she couldn't ascribe the sight of that forest with the usual shedding of autumn. The forest looked utterly dead to her, nothing but bald, rigid trunks to be seen for miles.