Browse our categories:

Adventure
Collections
Contemporary Literature
Crime
Fantasy
Gay & Lesbian
Historical
Horror
Humour
Medical
Mystery
Paranormal
Psychological Thriller
Romance
Science Fiction
Thrillers
War
Young Adult
Non Fiction
Poetry - sole authored collections
Poetry - multi authored collections

Coming Soon

BeWrite Book Excerpts

Author Biographies

About BeWrite Books

Events

Free Download

BeWrite Books Blog

Contact Us

FAQs

Sir Gerald crossed the road near the park. He hoped the cleaning woman had lit the fire. The building would be cold after being empty for the week. He glanced up at his house and saw a light in the top room where his computer was stored.
      He grimaced sourly. The damned woman had not completed her work. And what was she doing in that room? He had told her a thousand times never to clean in there. He wanted no one to have even the remotest chance of seeing his files.
      Even as he had these thoughts he was startled to see his front door open and the cleaning woman emerge. She slammed the door shut and scurried away in the opposite direction. He glanced up at the top window. As he did, the light was extinguished.
      There was someone in his house.
     

As Belinda switched off the lamp, the click heightened the silence in the house. The faint gurgle of rainwater trickling through the downpipes was the only noise to break the stillness. Feeling her way in the dark, Belinda edged slowly towards the top of the stairs. She had taken only two tentative steps down, when her blood froze.
      The front door was slowly opening.
      A dark figure slipped, ghostlike, into the hall. By the meagre streetlight, Belinda could just discern the white hair and slim figure of Sir Gerald. He swung the door to and the imperceptible click of the lock, told Belinda that she was trapped.
      In the infinite darkness Belinda was fixed motionless. She felt that her very breath would give her away; reveal to Sir Gerald her presence; her illicit presence in his house. Various thoughts ran through her mind. Should she confront him with the knowledge that she knew he had retained the tapestry?
      How would he react to that information? If he had lied to her, then his need for it must be very great. He might use violence to retain it. Although he was an elderly man, he was still physically fit and capable of overpowering her.
      And how could she explain her presence in the darkened house? Certainly he could charge her with trespass. Even more, if he discovered the disc in her pocket.
      But how to escape?
      Sir Gerald barred the only exit available to her.
      Her eyes wide open to catch every available sliver of light, she saw Sir Gerald's dark shadowy figure move gently towards the living room door. He clearly suspected that there was an intruder concealed in the house. He gently pushed the living room door open with his fingertip. The faint ruddy glow of the fire tinged his profile.
      As he was diverted with this action, with his back towards Belinda, she softly took two steps backwards. Feeling her way experimentally with each foot, she moved upwards, returning to the landing.
      Looking around, she considered which room would afford her the most security. The answer was clear. None would. The only entrance and exit to the landing was via the staircase - and Sir Gerald had access to that. The rooms each had a window, but they led to nothing more than a long drop to the garden below. Belinda could not see herself surviving such a jump. Besides, the noise in opening a window would certainly attract attention.
      There was no doubt about it. She was trapped.
      From her high vantage point she saw Sir Gerald move towards the foot of the stairs. He glanced upwards.
      Belinda snapped her head clear of his vision. The crack emanating from her rigid neck sounded loudly in her ears. Surely Sir Gerald must have heard it.
      He placed one foot on the bottom stair.
      Belinda took a step backwards. Her foot gently touched the door of the study. It gave a slight sigh as it swung ajar.
      Sir Gerald paused on the second step. His eyes searched the darkness on the landing above him.
      With her heart in her mouth, Belinda slipped silently into the study.
      She heard the delicate creak of the staircase as Sir Gerald ascended. Through the crack in the door, she saw him reach the landing.
      He paused on the top stair, his head turning from door to door, searching for the intruder.
      The bathroom door stood wide open revealing its innocent interior. So too, the bedroom. Belinda cursed herself for not having closed it after leaving. It would have provided a momentary diversion, if Sir Gerald had decided to search it.
      Now, he swung his vision onto the half-open study door.
      Within the den, Belinda, frozen with fright, pulled her coat and shoulder bag towards her, as if they possessed some magical powers that could render her invisible or at least protect her from the man's hostility.
      If only she had some weapon to defend herself with.
      Her hands reached out to search for such a weapon. But there was nothing within her grasp.
      As he took another step towards the study, the velvety sound of Sir Gerald's shoe on the landing carpet reached her ears.
      Her probing fingers came in contact with something solid. The mobile phone projected from her shoulder bag. At last a weapon. She could at least strike at Sir Gerald and hopefully make a run for it. She withdrew it and held it above her shoulder.
      As she did so another thought struck her. It was a reckless and risky idea, but it may be her salvation.
      She lowered the phone. With breathless anxiety, she sought to push the memory button, the speed dial that would automatically dial Sir Gerald's telephone number. If she could lure him downstairs to answer the phone she might be able to escape.
      But what was the number? What button should she press?
      A speechless curse escaped her lips as she pushed at the first button her fingers came in contact with.
      The mobile phone gave a tiny beep. It sounded monstrous in the tense silence of the house. Had Sir Gerald heard it?
      The telephone in the living room below remained mute.
      Sir Gerald's faint shadow slid sleekly onto the doorjamb.
      Belinda held the phone in the folds of her coat, hoping that her body would absorb the revealing beep. Her fingers plunged downwards in a last minute attempt. They made contact with another button and ground the tiny disc into the device. There was a heart stopping moment then she heard the gratifying ring of the downstairs phone.
      Sir Gerald paused at the door.
      Only the wooden panel separated them.
      For one moment Belinda thought he would ignore the sound and continue his search.
      She had stopped breathing. Then, the welcome soft rustle of Sir Gerald's clothing, as he turned and edged his way in the dark, back down the staircase.
      Belinda gulped in a lungful of fresh air. She stole onto the landing. She feared her weak legs would fail her. The urgent ringing of the phone filled the shadowy house.
      A beam of pale light spilled across the hallway. She heard Sir Gerald pick up the telephone.
      Belinda took a tentative step down the staircase, her heart beating in her ribs.
      '4695.' Sir Gerald gave his telephone number, his voice rigid with tension.
      The great danger was that he would hang up the minute he realised that there was no caller on the other end of the phone. Belinda had only a few seconds to reach the door.
      Hesitantly, she moved downwards.
      'Hello? Hello, damn you.' Sir Gerald sounded angry and confused. Belinda hoped his loud voice would mask any noise she might make.
      'Is anyone there?' By now his voice was full of rage.
      Belinda took a deep breath. She plunged forward into the hall, her feet barely skimming over the carpet-covered stairs.
      In a few steps she had crossed the hall. As she passed the living room door, she glimpsed Sir Gerald and heard the loud crash as he slammed the telephone down.
      Her fingers closed over the door handle as she pulled it towards her.
      It remained shut. Unyielding.

Watch the video for The Embroidered Corpse:

All electronic books supplied in Adobeï™Acrobat™format. 
Refunds will be given at the discretion of the Company Management. 
Copyright © 2002 BeWrite Books. All rights reserved. 
Comments to: The BeWrite.net team