Free The Sound of a Scream by John Manning

it came closer, Daphne could make out a hand carrying it, and then ... a face....
    A face she knew.
    In that last glimmer of candlelight, Daphne saw something that went far, far beyond the scope of her young, innocent imagination. All the nameless terrors she’d ever felt, all the creeping anxieties she’d ever experienced, all of the doubts and fears and nightmares of her life came rushing wickedly into the candlelight before her. The face in front of her began to scream, its mouth growing wider and wider until the sound itself began to take shape and crowd everything else out of the room. Daphne clapped her hands over her ears and began to scream herself.
    She opened her eyes and looked down at the pink light that was striping her white sheets.
    It was morning.
    And she had had a dream. A terrible dream.
    One that was fading from her memory even as she tried to hold on to it. All she knew was that it had frightened her, and badly.
    And why not? After what she had experienced the night before, no wonder Daphne had nightmares.
    Outside, the dark rainy night had been succeeded by a brilliant sunny morning. Birds chirped in the trees. The fragrance of sea air filled the room, and the crash of the surf was louder than ever, without any rain or wind to obscure its sound. It was just before seven o’clock.
    Daphne was dressing when she heard a soft knock at her door.
    “Are you awake?” came a whispered voice. Daphne unlocked the door and opened it. It was Ashlee, beaming up at her with a smile that seemed to reflect the cheeriness of the morning outside.
    “Good morning,” Daphne greeted her.
    Ashlee came into the room. She was wearing a ruffled white blouse over blue jeans. She was barefoot.
    “Did you sleep okay?” the lady of the house asked her. “The storm finally let up.”
    “Yes, thank you,” Daphne said, not entirely truthfully, but not wanting to admit to having had a nightmare on her first night in the house.
    “Good.” Ashlee grabbed her hands in hers and smiled up at her. “I’m so sorry that Pete and I cut your welcome party short last night. It’s just that the shock—”
    “I understand,” Daphne said. “It must have terrible learning about your friend’s death.”
    Ashlee suddenly looked near tears, the way she had last night. “What’s worse is that Maggie and I had fallen out of touch. You know, running this house for Pete and all, I didn’t really have time to go out with her and do all the things we used to do.”
    “Well, that makes sense. I’m sure she understood.”
    Ashlee shook her head. “I’m afraid she didn’t. Maggie was resentful, I think. Here I was living at Witherswood, with servants and cars and drivers at my disposal. And she was still working as a waitress.”
    Daphne made a sympathetic face.
    “We started out together, you know. Went to high school together in Florida. We were like two peas in a pod back then.” Ashlee looked out toward the cliffs. “Times change.”
    “I just pray they find the person who did it,” Daphne said.
    Ashlee whipped her eyes back to Daphne’s. “Indeed! I hope they find him and give him the electric chair!” Her lips tightened into what seemed like some kind of cruel smile. “Although the state’s preferred method is lethal injection. I hear that’s not as painful.”
    Daphne shivered. Ashlee’s usually sweet demeanor had darkened. She supposed it was only natural, given the fate her old friend had suffered.
    “Well, enough of that,” Ashlee said, shaking off the darkness that had momentarily clouded her face. “I came here to make up for ditching you last night. I’ve had cook prepare us a little breakfast that we can eat out on the cliffside terrace. Before you get down to your duties, I thought we could get to know each other a little better.”
    Daphne was very grateful. Ashlee was a bright spot in this gloomy old mansion. Sitting with her out on the terrace, watching the white waves hit the rocks below, sipping hot