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Overview
There’s a reason why they call it Nightmare Hall . . .
Jessica Vogt gets a rude awakening when she moves into Nightingale Hall and learns that the previous spring, a student named Giselle hanged herself from a light fixture—in Jess’s new room. Campus officials pronounced it a suicide. But did Giselle really kill herself? Or was it a setup?
Strange things are happening to Jess. One night, she is awakened by a terrifying scream. A photo taken of Jess and a classmate reveals a third person in the shot—a girl with long, pale hair and a sad face. Is Giselle trying to communicate with Jess? As Jess moves closer to what really happened that fateful night, someone starts targeting her. Is she being haunted by a ghost, or is there a killer on the loose?
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Diane Hoh including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author’s personal collection.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781480421653 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media |
| Publication date: | 08/27/2013 |
| Series: | Nightmare Hall , #1 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 229 |
| File size: | 6 MB |
| Age Range: | 12 - 18 Years |
About the Author
After contributing novels to two popular series, Cheerleaders and the Girls of Canby Hall, Hoh found great success writing thrillers, beginning with Funhouse (1990), a Point Horror novel that became a national bestseller. Following its success, Hoh created the Nightmare Hall series, whose twenty-nine installments chronicle a university plagued by dark secrets, and the seven-volume Med Center series, about the challenges and mysteries in a Massachusetts hospital. In 1998, Hoh had a runaway hit with Titanic: The Long Night and Remembering the Titanic, a pair of novels about two couples’ escape from the doomed ocean liner. She now lives and writes in Austin.
Diane Hoh (b. 1937) is a bestselling author of young adult fiction. Born in Warren, Pennsylvania, Hoh began her first novel, Loving That O’Connor Boy (1985), after seeing an ad in a publishing trade magazine requesting submissions for a line of young adult fiction. After contributing novels to two popular series, Cheerleaders and the Girls of Canby Hall, Hoh found great success writing thrillers, beginning with Funhouse (1990), a Point Horror novel that became a national bestseller. Following its success, Hoh created the Nightmare Hall series, whose twenty-nine installments chronicle a university plagued by dark secrets, and the seven-volume Med Center series, about the challenges and mysteries in a Massachusetts hospital. In 1998, Hoh had a runaway hit with Titanic: The Long Night and Remembering the Titanic, a pair of novels about two couples’ escape from the doomed ocean liner. She now lives and writes in Austin.
Read an Excerpt
The Silent Scream
Nightmare Hall
By Diane Hoh
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1993 Diane HohAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4804-2165-3
CHAPTER 1
Jessica vogt leaned forward, her navy-blue eyes staring out the bus window. She wanted to take in every detail of the town of Twin Falls where she would be spending the next four years of her life. The main street, Pennsylvania Avenue, crowded with traffic now as other college students like herself arrived in town, was flanked on one side by a slowly meandering river, on the other side by shops and restaurants, a red brick post office, several bank buildings. Shoppers accustomed to the annual onslaught of young people ignored the long line of cars and buses snaking its way through the center of town and went about their business.
The bus passed slowly through the center of town, advancing past a stone bridge on the left spanning the river, and a beautiful row of lavish white and brick homes on the right, facing the water. A huge stone church took up one whole block, its spire rising some distance above the medium-sized community. Tall, full trees lined the avenue in front of the church. A larger section of more modest homes followed, and then, at the edge of town, a large, sprawling shopping mall.
Jess could already see the rooftops of the university buildings some distance ahead, just beyond the town. She settled back in her seat. It was a pretty town, not unlike her own hometown. Peaceful, quiet … and it had a mall. She smiled. What would life be like without a mall?
The bus let her off just a block from Nightingale Hall, the off-campus dorm where she would be living.
When it had gone, she walked up the block, and paused at the bottom of the curving gravelled driveway that led up the slope to the house. Hands in the pockets of her khaki shorts, a set of cheap brown luggage resting beside her sandalled feet, she grimaced in dismay as her eyes focused on the building destined to be her home from September to June. It wasn't very inviting.
"Great place to film a horror movie," she murmured, running a hand through her short, glossy black hair. Shifting slightly, she kept her gaze on the house.
It was tall and narrow, three stories of brick so deep a red and so shaded by massive oaks it looked charcoal. Two of the dark green shutters flanking the tall, skinny windows were hanging crookedly and the wide, wooden porch sagged just enough to make the house look a little drunk. A metal fire escape traveled from the ground up to the third story along the left-hand side.
In case we ever need an escape route, Jess thought.
The house stood, tired and worn, at the top of the slope, overlooking the hill and the highway with, Jess had to admit, a certain kind of dignity in spite of its shabbiness.
It's seen better days, she thought with conviction. It must have been beautiful once.
The lawn had recently been mowed, filling the air with the smell of fresh-cut grass, and the squat green shrubbery flanking the wide front porch was thick with round, red berries.
"Pretty grim, huh?" a deep voice behind Jess asked. "Looks a little like Tara, after the Civil War." A chuckle followed the comment. "Your name wouldn't by any chance be Scarlett, would it?"
Jess turned around. The boy who stood behind her was taller than her own five feet six inches. His shoulder-length straight, dark hair was tied back in a careless ponytail. He was wearing faded denim cutoffs and a white T-shirt. A huge, worn black leather camera case was slung over one shoulder.
"You have read Gone With the Wind, haven't you?" he asked, smiling. "Or at least seen the movie?"
Jess nodded. If his nose hadn't had a slight hook to it, he would have been too good-looking. Boys who were too good-looking seemed to think the world owed them something. "Of course I've read it. It happens to be one of my favorites. And you're right about the house. It's pretty grim. But," shrugging her thin shoulders, "it's cheaper than on-campus dorms, so I guess we shouldn't expect too much."
Extending a hand, he said, "Ian Banion." He grinned as they shook hands. "Who cares what the place looks like? I came for the fishing. I checked this place out last spring. There's a great stream out back." Another sheepish grin. "But I'm also here because it's cheaper." Glancing up the hill, he added, "Anyway, you've got to admit this place looks more interesting than those boring stone dorms on campus."
Jess cocked an eyebrow. Interesting? Maybe. "It's probably a lot nicer on the inside."
Ian looked dubious. "I wouldn't count on it. C'mon, let's check it out."
They were halfway up the hill when someone shouting behind them brought them to a halt. Turning in tandem, they found another boy hurrying to catch up to them. "Wait up!" he called. "I'm not going into that mausoleum by myself. Could be dangerous." He was carrying two very expensive-looking leather bags.
"Oh, come on," Jess said. "I'll bet it was gorgeous once upon a time. I think it's those trees … they keep the sun from lighting up the place."
The newcomer was not as tall as Ian, but he had broader shoulders and a deeper tan. His wheat-colored hair had been blow-dried and moussed perfectly in place. His white knit shirt looked expensive, as did the perfectly creased navy blue slacks he was wearing. His features were even, nearly perfect. The sort of face, Jess thought, that graces magazine covers. His arrogant smile told her he thought the same thing.
If he had money, and he certainly looked as if he did, what was he doing at Nightingale Hall?
He fixed warm brown eyes on Jess and answered her unspoken question. "I picked an off-campus place because I figured the rules would be a cinch to break, but now I see that fate sent me here. Hello, gorgeous! Jon Shea, here."
Jess's immediate reaction was, Spare me! Jon Shea was one of those: too good-looking. Probably couldn't function for more than five minutes without a mirror handy. He most likely found the "chase" after a girl the most exciting part of any relationship. Once the "quarry" had been caught, he probably lost interest. She'd bet the streets of his hometown were paved with broken hearts.
"Jessica Vogt," she said, her voice cool. "And this is Ian Banion."
"So," Jon said cheerfully, "we're all going to be residents of Nightmare Hall?"
Jessica laughed. "Oh, quit exaggerating. It's not that bad."
Two girls and another boy, surrounded by their baggage, were already seated on the floor of the porch when Jess arrived with Ian and Jon.
One girl jumped to her feet. She was tall and broad-shouldered, with tanned sturdy legs in bright green shorts. Her hair was short and yellow, with a slight greenish tinge to it.
A swimmer, Jess decided. That hair had been overdosed with chlorine.
"Hi," the girl said with a friendly smile, "I'm Linda Carlyle. Is one of you, I hope, the new monitor? Because if you are, you might have a key, and I'm dying to get inside for a nice, cool drink of water. I'm so parched my throat feels like sandpaper, and the door seems to be locked."
"I'm the monitor," Jess answered, moving forward. She had taken the job in return for a break in her tuition. "And you're in luck. Mrs. Coates mailed me a key. We can all go inside. Isn't she here?"
Linda shook her head. "No one answered when I knocked. I tried the bell, too, but it doesn't work."
"Figures," Jon remarked drily. "This place could use a live-in handyman."
"Somebody call me?" a voice asked as a young man in white overalls and T-shirt came around the corner of the house. He was short and stocky, with thick, curly black hair. His well-muscled arms were sunburned, as were his cheeks and neck. "Am I needed here?"
"Are you kidding?" Jon asked. "Take a good look around. Those shutters are hanging at half-mast and the porch is listing to starboard and …"
The young man in overalls smiled coldly. "Go boating a lot, do you?" The smile told Jess he had already pegged Jon as a "rich boy." "Relax. It'll get done. I've been working inside, getting the rooms ready. I'm Trucker Swopes. And you are …?"
"Jon Shea. This is Jessica Vogt and Ian … sorry, I forgot the last name."
"Banion. I can't introduce the others because we haven't met yet. We just arrived."
"I'll help," the blond swimmer volunteered. "I'm Linda Carlyle, and this is Cath Devon, and over here is Milo Keith." She smiled down at Milo. "They're freshmen, too."
Jess looked with interest at the pair as Trucker acknowledged the introductions by shaking everyone's hand. Cath Devon was tiny, and would have been pretty if she hadn't looked so tense and anxious. She had very pale skin and a mass of dark, curly hair that spilled across her shoulders and threatened to overwhelm her. She was dressed in preppy clothes: a blue plaid, pleated skirt and a blue crew-neck sweater, but the heat didn't seem to be bothering her at all.
She should be melting in that outfit, Jess thought, but she looks as cool as April rain. Still, there was something about her mouth … the jaws were clenched too tightly. And didn't that look like fear in those dark eyes?
Well, weren't they all a little scared? Leaving home for the first time could do that.
Milo Keith was very tall and very thin. His hair was long and needed both combing and trimming, as did the tangle of beard hiding his chin. His eyes were a brilliant blue behind wire-rimmed glasses.
Giving Trucker, Jess, and Jon no more than a polite nod, Milo returned to the book he'd been reading, positioned on his crisscrossed legs.
"Where is Mrs. Coates?" Jess asked Trucker as she moved toward the big, wooden front door. She fumbled in her backpack for the key.
"She went to town," Trucker told her. "Said if you didn't have your key with you, I was to let you in. You got it?"
Jess unearthed the key and nodded.
"Well, go ahead then," he said, smiling slightly. "No sense standing around out here. I've got to get back to work. You need anything, give me a holler."
"Thanks." The picture of herself "hollering" for help wasn't an appealing one, but it was nice to know that if she did, someone would come. She inserted the key into the lock and turned the fat, brass doorknob.
And then, although she couldn't have explained why, instead of entering first, which would have been logical since she was the one who had opened the door, she stood back and urged the others in ahead of her.
I'm just being polite, she told herself as they marched inside. I'm letting them go in first because my mother raised me properly and I'm extremely well-mannered.
"What's the matter?" Trucker asked, looking up at her thoughtfully from the wide stone steps he was sweeping. "Scared?"
And it occurred to her that she was.
CHAPTER 2Scolding herself for being silly, Jess moved on inside the house, closing the heavy door behind her.
As she followed the others from living room to library, dining room, and kitchen, Jess's first impression was of space. The rooms were large and contained massive pieces of old, dark furniture. The high ceilings made her feel dwarfed.
"I feel like the Incredible Shrinking Freshman," she told Linda, who giggled nervously as they entered the library with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. "Our entire apartment back home would easily fit into this room. No wonder this place is used as a dorm."
Her second impression was of darkness and gloom. Although the house was immaculate, the hardwood floors smooth and shiny with polish, every window was completely draped with heavy fabrics: gold in the dining room, maroon in the living room and library. Hardly any natural light crept in. The first floor of Nightingale Hall was as dark as a cave.
"I hope those drapes open," Jess said, frowning at the windows. She liked sunshine and light. Adjusting to this gloomy old place would be hard.
Cath pursed her lips disapprovingly at Jess's comment. "I don't think we should touch the drapes. Not until Mrs. Coates gets here."
She's nervous, Jess thought. She's afraid of getting into trouble. Hasn't she ever been in trouble before? Never got caught cutting a class or staying out too late or forgetting a school assignment? Weird.
"Relax," Jess said, "I won't touch the drapes, I promise. Not yet, anyway. We'll have to convince our housemother that we need lots of light or we'll get all pale and shriveled, like dying plants."
Ian grinned at her. "I can't picture you all pale and shriveled."
It sounded like a compliment. He probably expected a grateful smile in return.
Well, why not? It wasn't as if she had been deluged with compliments all summer. She'd been too busy working to pay any attention to the boys who came into the mall. College was incredibly expensive and her scholarship didn't cover everything.
But she'd made enough money and now she was here, so if someone was willing to compliment her, she was more than willing to listen.
She smiled back at Ian.
"Nice smile," he said as they entered the long, narrow kitchen situated at the rear of the house.
The room was large, spotlessly clean and, thanks to a half-wall of windows above the sink and dishwasher, brighter than the rest of the house. The windows overlooked the back slope leading down into a thick, wooded area and, Ian told her, the stream.
Leaving the kitchen, they all trooped upstairs to check out their rooms.
Jess was pleasantly surprised by hers. This isn't half-bad, she thought as she swung open the door bearing a small name-tag reading JESSICA VOGT. She stood in the doorway, smiling with pleasure. The room was small, but bright and sunny. The walls were papered in a dainty lilac-flowered print, the bed covered with a vivid purple spread, topped with a folded, flowered quilt. A pretty wooden desk and chair sat between a pair of tall, narrow windows framed by sheer white curtains. A squat, fat chest of drawers of dark wood sat along one wall, waiting for Jess's clothing.
The room smelled of lemon, and of fresh air, wafting in through the open windows.
"This is really pretty," she murmured to herself, "and it's all mine!" She had never had a room of her own before.
But as she stepped across the threshold, a suitcase weighing down each hand, she was met by a wave of air so cold it took her breath away. The unexpected chill wrapped itself around her, penetrating her thin T-shirt, her shorts, and heading straight for her bones.
Jess gasped in shock. She felt as if she'd been doused with ice water.
She took an involuntary step backward. The air in the hall was warm. Puzzled, she basked in the welcome warmth for only a minute. Then, thinking she must have imagined the chill, she re-entered the room.
But the chill was still there. She hadn't imagined it.
She stayed where she was, a look of confusion on her face. Where was that cool air coming from? The windows were open, but she knew the air outside wasn't cold. Unless a sudden cold front had moved in.
Dropping the suitcases and hugging herself for warmth, Jess moved to one of the open windows and thrust a bare arm forward. The air that touched her skin was still mild, caressing it with no hint of chill.
But inside her room …
She turned again to face her new home. She took a step away from the window, then another …
There was nothing imaginary about the cool air that descended upon her the moment she left the window. With her arms still wrapped around her chest, she sat down on the bed.
Maybe there was something about old houses … isolated pockets of cold air? She could ask Trucker. He might know. Or … hadn't there been a fireplace in the living room? The chimney should be right about … Jess stood up, pacing off steps … right about here! Inside her closet. Probably right behind her closet wall. If the chimney went all the way down to a cellar, what she was feeling was probably cold cellar air leaking into her room from loose chimney bricks.
Jess went back to the bed, shrugging. So she'd wear sweaters. The room was too pretty, and the privacy, after sharing a room with two sisters, was too welcome to be upset over a little thing like a slight chill in the air. If she'd moved into a dorm on campus, she would have had to share.
When she had finished unpacking, Jess wandered down the dark, narrow hall to see how her new housemates were doing.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Silent Scream by Diane Hoh. Copyright © 1993 Diane Hoh. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
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