Concerns were raised when Frank was rushed into Holy Cross Center for Disease Control....
The story should be no more than 4000 words.
Deadline: 30th August 2013
AM
Monday, July 29, 2013
Story Idea 8
Headline - 7th June 1959: Frank Bowman, the first man in space, splashed down at 3pm today!
Concerns were raised when Frank was rushed into Holy Cross Center for Disease Control....
AM
Concerns were raised when Frank was rushed into Holy Cross Center for Disease Control....
AM
The Security System
Kim had never identified with the despair of a fictional character quite the way she did as she beheld the litter ridden streets of Tooting. She hadn’t exactly been anticipating the gold paved streets Dick Whittington had, but torn apart rubbish, apparently the result of desperate urban foxes, was not what she had been expecting at all. The first niggles of doubt had set in.
Some people migrated to pursue dreams or career, others to escape poor living conditions and some even to avoid political persecution. Kim had migrated because it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
She’d been single, her employment contract had ended and she’d just plain fancied a change. She already had some friends abroad so she’d bought a ticket with the majority of her savings and followed them.
London Town. The Big Smoke.
Kim was a positive soul so as she’d dragged her suitcase along the pavement, trying to avoid baked beans cans and torn chip packets, she’d repeated the mantra ‘everything is going to be okay’.
It had to be. Her ticket had been one way and her bank balance was woefully deficient of the funds it would take her to get back to the sunny shores of Auckland.
Her positivity was tested further when she’d discovered the warm welcome her ex-pat friends had promised apparently had an expiry date. After one week of dossing on their tiny couch, in their tiny flat, the cheerful smiles turned to queries of her move out date. As week two rolled into week three the queries were steadily getting frostier and Kim knew she was endangering her friendship status.
Kim’s mantra was getting worn out as her stress levels increased. She couldn’t find work and without work she couldn’t afford housing and if she alienated the few friends she had in the city, her future looked very bleak indeed.
Her niggles of doubt had turned into outright certainties. Moving abroad had been a bad fucking idea.
It was the morning she’d woken with a cramp in her back but was too despondent to move as she’d stared unseeingly at the ceiling, that she found the ad.
“Tooting flat - free rent. Only those morally deficient need apply.”
Kim had genuinely smiled as she’d read it, for the first time in a long time. She appreciated a good sense of humour so she’d used the last of her phone credit to make an appointment.
It was a terraced house and the very nature of a terraced house was that, bar the paint job, they were generally indistinguishable from the next. Still, as Kim paused on the approach of the second house in the row, she was filled with a sense of foreboding and wished she was about to enter any of the neighbouring houses instead. She was suddenly extremely conscious that she hadn’t told anyone where she was going.
Kim got her phone out of her bag and texted one of the friends she was staying with. She hit send; T-Mobile hit her back with a no credit message. She was on her own. She tapped her foot rapidly on the pathway, she could go back to the flat she was unwanted at or she could knock on the door that could potentially decrease her cortisol production.
She knocked on the door.
The man that answered could’ve been described as normal, in the same way the house in the terrace resembled the others, the same but not quite.
He was thrumming with anticipation that didn’t marry up with Kim’s expectation of a landlord. His thinning hair was plastered to his head with sweat and the temperature was sixteen degrees at best. Despite her disquiet, when he offered her entrance, Kim took it. She gripped her useless phone in her hand as some sort of talisman as he locked the door behind them with an emotion that could only be described as glee.
“So, you’re ad said free rent.” Kim said as she pressed herself against the hall wall to let him pass.
“You will never pay rent.” The odd landlord grinned and headed off down the hall. As a twenty three year old girl in a stranger’s home, she was concerned, as a homeless person with no other prospects; she was compelled to follow him into the house.
She found him standing in the centre of a large reception room, empty of all furnishings, and he was rubbing his hands together. It was at exactly that moment that Kim realised she was being the stupid girl from the horror movies everyone always shouted instructions at.
“You know what, I’ve changed my mind.” Kim said as she took a step backwards.
The man’s grin made her blood run cold. “Too late.”
Kim spun around to run, sure that she could make it to the front door before he could catch her. She stopped dead in her tracks. There was something in front of her blocking the door, a smoky black mass that she instinctively knew she didn’t want to run through. Before her eyes the mass solidified until it resembled hundreds of squirming eel-like creatures that were coated in a thick, black oily substance. Razor sharp teeth protruded from their mouths and the black substance dripped from the tips, if she looked down she knew she’d see the black goo pooling at her feet. They writhed against one another but regardless of the direction of their movement their angry red eyes remained on her. They were studying her.
Kim was frozen. In some distance part of her mind she knew she should be screaming or running or even fainting but it was as though she were observing the scene from outside her body with no control of her motor skills.
The thing closed the gap between them and she heard the man behind her squeal in delight. “I want to watch!” He exclaimed as he clapped his hands together.
The things attention immediately switched to him, the red eyed eels seeming to study him intently as they had done her. The sound of its voice was Kim’s undoing. It was an accumulation of all the most terrifying sounds she could’ve imagined and yet as it rasped its message she heard them all individually which heightened her terror.
“Corrrrupppptionnnnn.” The thing advanced towards the man as the sounds of skin rending, eyes popping, bones splintering still echoed in her head. She fainted dead away.
When she woke there was a shard of light bathing her face from a gap in the curtains. She was slow, groggy, wondering why she was laying on the floor when she recognised that she was in a stranger’s house. She saw her useless phone on the floor and jerked upright as memories rushed to the fore. A strangled cry escaped her as she saw the black thing drifting a few feet from her and behind it was a pool of congealing blood. The two walls near the pool had red splatter marks on them and the weird man was nowhere to be seen. She scooted backwards on her arse and the thing followed her. When her back hit the wall she screamed in desperation.
“Sssssttoppp.” Its voice made the word sound like teeth being filed, pins being driven under nails, toes being struck with a hammer and even though it made her need to scream more she stopped as though It’s will superseded hers.
The writhing, oily, eel-like creatures morphed back into the black smoky mass and drifted towards her. Every fibre of her being wanted to scream for all she was worth but apparently she was still under It’s will. The black mass drifted through her and a coldness seeped into her bones that chilled her to the point where she wondered if she would ever feel warm again, if she lived that long. Her eyes rolled up into her head as the thing communicated with her. Knowledge flashed in her minds eye and when the thing receded and drifted in front of her, she knew whole heartedly that It wouldn’t hurt her. It couldn’t hurt her. The certainty didn’t reduce her need to get gone.
As though to reassure her It confirmed her thoughts. “Sssssaaafe.”
She took comfort in the word despite the fact that it sounded like someone chewing jagged shards of glass. Comfort enough to inch her way up the wall to a standing position.
The thing floated before her as she made her way slowly out of the reception room and into the hall. It followed.
She wanted to run but was uncertain of the boundaries of the apparent truce they had. When her hand gripped the deadbolt she could’ve shouted for joy but instead she cringed as that horrific voice whispered through her mind.
“Sssssaaafe.”
She darted out the door and ran down the street, chancing a glance back to see if she was being followed. The door of the house was slowly closing and Kim thanked God she would never have to see the house or It again.
One week later Kim was back, standing on the doorstep with her suitcase by her side.
With each day that had passed Kim had felt compelled to return to the house and though she’d tried to fight it she had ultimately given in to the compulsion. That had happened at about the same time Kim had convinced herself that the thing in the house wasn’t evil. It wanted to eradicate evil and needed her help to do that and that was why she had been unharmed.
Only now that she was about to enter did she remember the fear she’d felt in It’s presence and began to doubt herself.
Kim stared at the front door, understanding her initial uneasiness now that she knew what lurked within. As she stared, mumbling her mantra under her breath, the door opened before her. If It had been on the threshold she didn’t think she could’ve entered but the way was clear so she dragged her case into the hall. Every hair on her body stood on end. She couldn’t see It but she knew it was there.
For what seemed like ten minutes she stood waiting but she remained alone in the entrance and eventually made her way into the reception room. The room was empty save for the congealed mass of blood coating the wooden floor and filling the room with a smell that made her want to gag. Kim pinched her nose closed as she surveyed the dark clots on the floor. She was surprised at the lack of flies feasting on the remains of the man but recognised that expectation may have been the blame of many a director’s artistic license. Unable to bear the mess any longer Kim went in search of cleaning products. In the kitchen she came across a large cupboard filled with tubs of baking soda and litres of white vinegar. On the inside of the cupboard door was a printed page from wikiHow with instructions on removing blood stains from hardwood flooring. The sheer volume of supplies in the cupboard coupled with the old stains she’d seen on the floor drove home just how many times It had done it’s thing.
Next to the cupboard was a wallet and in it she found the man’s driver’s license. The same name was on the pile of bills the wallet was sitting on, including a mortgage statement. The man It had killed was the owner of the house so he’d been providing victims for It for quite some time.
Kim scrubbed at the latest stain and wondered what had gotten the man killed. Had he grown addicted to providing victims for It and had therefore eradicated any goodness he’d had in himself?
Kim had no intention of falling into the same trap. She had a plan. For starters she wasn’t going to be staying around for long, once she had a job she would leave, and she intended to be much smarter with luring the victims. No Gumtree ads for her, she couldn’t be sure who would turn up on her doorstep, no she intended to let the victims come to It. Deserving ones.
The house wasn’t in a good area so Kim made sure that, every other day when she left the house, the front window was left wide open. Sure enough when she got back to the house a few hours later there would be a pool of blood from the latest would-be thief.
Despite the unsavoury job of having to do clean up, things were looking up for Kim. She still didn’t have a job but the house had proved to be a treasure trove. Not only had she found almost twenty thousand pounds sewn into the spare mattress, there had been multiple heirlooms and antiques she had sold for great profit.
She’d felt guilty when she’d come across recent letters from his son and realised she was effectively stealing his inheritance, but that feeling hadn’t lasted. She told herself she was saving the son from the knowledge of It. Plus, he would eventually get the inheritance of the house once she left and she was going to leave, just not yet. Sooner or later she would start looking for work again and then she would leave. For the time being she was happy to enjoy London with her ill gotten gains.
Kim returned home one afternoon after having her nails and hair done. When she entered the house she could hear a man’s strangled cries from the reception room.
She paused wondering if she should go back out and return once it was all over with but then she realised she had a chance to see how It did it’s thing. She often wondered as she scrubbed the floors what It did with the bones – did It eat them? Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a peak?
“Honey, I’m home.” She called as she stepped into the room.
Oily black eels with blood red eyes were swarming over the thief. When he saw her his cries grew louder and more frantic. “Help me!”
Kim shrugged at him. “Sucks to be you, bro.”
The eels immediately ceased their writhing and every set of red eyes darted to her. It relinquished its hold on the man and he dropped to the ground.
“Corrrrupppptionnnnn.” It’s voice sounded like flesh blistering and boils erupting as It advanced.
Before Kim could run It was on her. The eels squeezed around her limbs mercilessly and where the black oil that dripped from their teeth landed on her skin it burned like acid. The pain that lanced into her as the first set of teeth dug into her flesh was agonizing. Hundreds more followed until she teetered on the brink of insanity with pain.
Her last thought as she was slowly eaten was that she should’ve left when she’d had the chance.
By Dayv Metcalfe
Some people migrated to pursue dreams or career, others to escape poor living conditions and some even to avoid political persecution. Kim had migrated because it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
She’d been single, her employment contract had ended and she’d just plain fancied a change. She already had some friends abroad so she’d bought a ticket with the majority of her savings and followed them.
London Town. The Big Smoke.
Kim was a positive soul so as she’d dragged her suitcase along the pavement, trying to avoid baked beans cans and torn chip packets, she’d repeated the mantra ‘everything is going to be okay’.
It had to be. Her ticket had been one way and her bank balance was woefully deficient of the funds it would take her to get back to the sunny shores of Auckland.
Her positivity was tested further when she’d discovered the warm welcome her ex-pat friends had promised apparently had an expiry date. After one week of dossing on their tiny couch, in their tiny flat, the cheerful smiles turned to queries of her move out date. As week two rolled into week three the queries were steadily getting frostier and Kim knew she was endangering her friendship status.
Kim’s mantra was getting worn out as her stress levels increased. She couldn’t find work and without work she couldn’t afford housing and if she alienated the few friends she had in the city, her future looked very bleak indeed.
Her niggles of doubt had turned into outright certainties. Moving abroad had been a bad fucking idea.
It was the morning she’d woken with a cramp in her back but was too despondent to move as she’d stared unseeingly at the ceiling, that she found the ad.
“Tooting flat - free rent. Only those morally deficient need apply.”
Kim had genuinely smiled as she’d read it, for the first time in a long time. She appreciated a good sense of humour so she’d used the last of her phone credit to make an appointment.
It was a terraced house and the very nature of a terraced house was that, bar the paint job, they were generally indistinguishable from the next. Still, as Kim paused on the approach of the second house in the row, she was filled with a sense of foreboding and wished she was about to enter any of the neighbouring houses instead. She was suddenly extremely conscious that she hadn’t told anyone where she was going.
Kim got her phone out of her bag and texted one of the friends she was staying with. She hit send; T-Mobile hit her back with a no credit message. She was on her own. She tapped her foot rapidly on the pathway, she could go back to the flat she was unwanted at or she could knock on the door that could potentially decrease her cortisol production.
She knocked on the door.
The man that answered could’ve been described as normal, in the same way the house in the terrace resembled the others, the same but not quite.
He was thrumming with anticipation that didn’t marry up with Kim’s expectation of a landlord. His thinning hair was plastered to his head with sweat and the temperature was sixteen degrees at best. Despite her disquiet, when he offered her entrance, Kim took it. She gripped her useless phone in her hand as some sort of talisman as he locked the door behind them with an emotion that could only be described as glee.
“So, you’re ad said free rent.” Kim said as she pressed herself against the hall wall to let him pass.
“You will never pay rent.” The odd landlord grinned and headed off down the hall. As a twenty three year old girl in a stranger’s home, she was concerned, as a homeless person with no other prospects; she was compelled to follow him into the house.
She found him standing in the centre of a large reception room, empty of all furnishings, and he was rubbing his hands together. It was at exactly that moment that Kim realised she was being the stupid girl from the horror movies everyone always shouted instructions at.
“You know what, I’ve changed my mind.” Kim said as she took a step backwards.
The man’s grin made her blood run cold. “Too late.”
Kim spun around to run, sure that she could make it to the front door before he could catch her. She stopped dead in her tracks. There was something in front of her blocking the door, a smoky black mass that she instinctively knew she didn’t want to run through. Before her eyes the mass solidified until it resembled hundreds of squirming eel-like creatures that were coated in a thick, black oily substance. Razor sharp teeth protruded from their mouths and the black substance dripped from the tips, if she looked down she knew she’d see the black goo pooling at her feet. They writhed against one another but regardless of the direction of their movement their angry red eyes remained on her. They were studying her.
Kim was frozen. In some distance part of her mind she knew she should be screaming or running or even fainting but it was as though she were observing the scene from outside her body with no control of her motor skills.
The thing closed the gap between them and she heard the man behind her squeal in delight. “I want to watch!” He exclaimed as he clapped his hands together.
The things attention immediately switched to him, the red eyed eels seeming to study him intently as they had done her. The sound of its voice was Kim’s undoing. It was an accumulation of all the most terrifying sounds she could’ve imagined and yet as it rasped its message she heard them all individually which heightened her terror.
“Corrrrupppptionnnnn.” The thing advanced towards the man as the sounds of skin rending, eyes popping, bones splintering still echoed in her head. She fainted dead away.
When she woke there was a shard of light bathing her face from a gap in the curtains. She was slow, groggy, wondering why she was laying on the floor when she recognised that she was in a stranger’s house. She saw her useless phone on the floor and jerked upright as memories rushed to the fore. A strangled cry escaped her as she saw the black thing drifting a few feet from her and behind it was a pool of congealing blood. The two walls near the pool had red splatter marks on them and the weird man was nowhere to be seen. She scooted backwards on her arse and the thing followed her. When her back hit the wall she screamed in desperation.
“Sssssttoppp.” Its voice made the word sound like teeth being filed, pins being driven under nails, toes being struck with a hammer and even though it made her need to scream more she stopped as though It’s will superseded hers.
The writhing, oily, eel-like creatures morphed back into the black smoky mass and drifted towards her. Every fibre of her being wanted to scream for all she was worth but apparently she was still under It’s will. The black mass drifted through her and a coldness seeped into her bones that chilled her to the point where she wondered if she would ever feel warm again, if she lived that long. Her eyes rolled up into her head as the thing communicated with her. Knowledge flashed in her minds eye and when the thing receded and drifted in front of her, she knew whole heartedly that It wouldn’t hurt her. It couldn’t hurt her. The certainty didn’t reduce her need to get gone.
As though to reassure her It confirmed her thoughts. “Sssssaaafe.”
She took comfort in the word despite the fact that it sounded like someone chewing jagged shards of glass. Comfort enough to inch her way up the wall to a standing position.
The thing floated before her as she made her way slowly out of the reception room and into the hall. It followed.
She wanted to run but was uncertain of the boundaries of the apparent truce they had. When her hand gripped the deadbolt she could’ve shouted for joy but instead she cringed as that horrific voice whispered through her mind.
“Sssssaaafe.”
She darted out the door and ran down the street, chancing a glance back to see if she was being followed. The door of the house was slowly closing and Kim thanked God she would never have to see the house or It again.
One week later Kim was back, standing on the doorstep with her suitcase by her side.
With each day that had passed Kim had felt compelled to return to the house and though she’d tried to fight it she had ultimately given in to the compulsion. That had happened at about the same time Kim had convinced herself that the thing in the house wasn’t evil. It wanted to eradicate evil and needed her help to do that and that was why she had been unharmed.
Only now that she was about to enter did she remember the fear she’d felt in It’s presence and began to doubt herself.
Kim stared at the front door, understanding her initial uneasiness now that she knew what lurked within. As she stared, mumbling her mantra under her breath, the door opened before her. If It had been on the threshold she didn’t think she could’ve entered but the way was clear so she dragged her case into the hall. Every hair on her body stood on end. She couldn’t see It but she knew it was there.
For what seemed like ten minutes she stood waiting but she remained alone in the entrance and eventually made her way into the reception room. The room was empty save for the congealed mass of blood coating the wooden floor and filling the room with a smell that made her want to gag. Kim pinched her nose closed as she surveyed the dark clots on the floor. She was surprised at the lack of flies feasting on the remains of the man but recognised that expectation may have been the blame of many a director’s artistic license. Unable to bear the mess any longer Kim went in search of cleaning products. In the kitchen she came across a large cupboard filled with tubs of baking soda and litres of white vinegar. On the inside of the cupboard door was a printed page from wikiHow with instructions on removing blood stains from hardwood flooring. The sheer volume of supplies in the cupboard coupled with the old stains she’d seen on the floor drove home just how many times It had done it’s thing.
Next to the cupboard was a wallet and in it she found the man’s driver’s license. The same name was on the pile of bills the wallet was sitting on, including a mortgage statement. The man It had killed was the owner of the house so he’d been providing victims for It for quite some time.
Kim scrubbed at the latest stain and wondered what had gotten the man killed. Had he grown addicted to providing victims for It and had therefore eradicated any goodness he’d had in himself?
Kim had no intention of falling into the same trap. She had a plan. For starters she wasn’t going to be staying around for long, once she had a job she would leave, and she intended to be much smarter with luring the victims. No Gumtree ads for her, she couldn’t be sure who would turn up on her doorstep, no she intended to let the victims come to It. Deserving ones.
The house wasn’t in a good area so Kim made sure that, every other day when she left the house, the front window was left wide open. Sure enough when she got back to the house a few hours later there would be a pool of blood from the latest would-be thief.
Despite the unsavoury job of having to do clean up, things were looking up for Kim. She still didn’t have a job but the house had proved to be a treasure trove. Not only had she found almost twenty thousand pounds sewn into the spare mattress, there had been multiple heirlooms and antiques she had sold for great profit.
She’d felt guilty when she’d come across recent letters from his son and realised she was effectively stealing his inheritance, but that feeling hadn’t lasted. She told herself she was saving the son from the knowledge of It. Plus, he would eventually get the inheritance of the house once she left and she was going to leave, just not yet. Sooner or later she would start looking for work again and then she would leave. For the time being she was happy to enjoy London with her ill gotten gains.
Kim returned home one afternoon after having her nails and hair done. When she entered the house she could hear a man’s strangled cries from the reception room.
She paused wondering if she should go back out and return once it was all over with but then she realised she had a chance to see how It did it’s thing. She often wondered as she scrubbed the floors what It did with the bones – did It eat them? Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a peak?
“Honey, I’m home.” She called as she stepped into the room.
Oily black eels with blood red eyes were swarming over the thief. When he saw her his cries grew louder and more frantic. “Help me!”
Kim shrugged at him. “Sucks to be you, bro.”
The eels immediately ceased their writhing and every set of red eyes darted to her. It relinquished its hold on the man and he dropped to the ground.
“Corrrrupppptionnnnn.” It’s voice sounded like flesh blistering and boils erupting as It advanced.
Before Kim could run It was on her. The eels squeezed around her limbs mercilessly and where the black oil that dripped from their teeth landed on her skin it burned like acid. The pain that lanced into her as the first set of teeth dug into her flesh was agonizing. Hundreds more followed until she teetered on the brink of insanity with pain.
Her last thought as she was slowly eaten was that she should’ve left when she’d had the chance.
By Dayv Metcalfe
Food Sex and Shelter
She gets on my nerves. I thought about us splitting up all the time. We had been together seven years and were due to get married in the next. I did not go to bed thinking about white dresses an ornate cake and lazy cocktails on far away beaches. I went to bed thinking how annoying it was to hear her eat. It seemed she spoke to her food as she chewed away, making love to it with little grunts of pleasure. Certainly in a more adoring way than our actual love making. She'd laugh at nothing, then not laugh when something was funny. The overly blue eye shadow she put on made me think of ABBA.
One day she said to me, "let's go for a walk." She had caught me rolling a joint on her dead mother's bible. It was a bad habit of mine but the bible always seemed to be handy. I told her I truly felt bad and would never do it again but she seemed to have something else on her mind. We walked through the May spring, the bluebells were out and birds flitted around with important work. She was wearing that skirt that caught men's eyes, and heaps of blue eye shadow. We didn't talk whilst we walked, in fact we hardly ever talked, conversation had been scant for a long time, but that was because we were overly comfortable with each other surely? As we threaded out way through the beech wood, I felt guilty for getting annoyed with her. How she ate? What was wrong with me. I knew what was wrong with me, I didn't want to be with her, and in my defence, she didn't want to be with me.
We left the beech wood and the old chalk hill fort rose before us. It was a strange place, solemn. I felt a sudden coolness as the equinox winds bounced off the downs and clipped at the edge of the woods. The Romans hadn't touched this fort apparently, it was old and out of use when they invaded. But a strange tale was told of a small group of warriors from the Cantii tribe hiding within the hollow hill, making lightning strikes against Roman Legions before disappearing back into the chalk mound with spoils of food and women. We had come here one night in the early days, torches and sleeping bags in hand. Telling each other the story as we climbed then continuing and embellishing around a fire. We had laid down, suddenly nervous as our ecstatic tales of food and fires and sex concluded. The stars appeared, and a silence descended as we pondered our stories of supernatural violence and romance.
As we ascended on this day, I suddenly wondered why we were going there. Emma seemed intent on something, we had never talked about what happened that night, what we experienced. It was too surreal, too unearthly for us to discuss. We had to put it down to the bottles of red wine, but we remembered, we remembered privately and in every detail.
At the top the solemnness had taken over, the Kent country side was verdant around us and the beech tree wood rocked with the wind. It was strange that this place wasn't on the tourist map, you would see the odd walker with a dog, but not hoards of visitors. We sat down where we had made the fire all those years ago.
"Are you going to say it or am I?" She was looking at a mound in the centre of the flattened out top and not at me as she spoke those words.
"Are we splitting up?" She turned to look at me as if I were from another planet.
"No you gonk, about that night." Oh, I said. I feared I sounded disappointed. I paused then related events.
"It was a hell of a feast. They brought out that steaming cauldron, then made a long table from lengths of wood. They set the table, they piled it with slow cooked meats from many beasts. The broth smelt of juniper berries and hazel nuts, wild garlic and nettles. We drank from ewers of a type of beer. There was black bread smothered in fat, hot and delicious smelling. Behind in that little mound we could see a light flickering orange. There were seven of them, painted in whirling blues with their hair spiked up with chalk. They didn't speak, but ate, they ate like you eat, muttering and grunting and slurping away." Emma smiled at me.
"Food Sex and Shelter. What else can someone want?" She was very faraway with her words.
"We imagined it didn't we? Or engaged in a ghostly scene." I remembered my full belly, and when I got home there was grease on my clothes.
"No we didn't. The world is different to how we are taught it, and when we come up against the difference, we reject it." She nodded, more to herself than to me.
The day was ending and dusk settled around us. I wanted to go home, but Emma kept looking at the mound, a slight smile on her face. I was so sure we were heading to the top of the hill to say goodbye, and I felt cowardly disappointment. I thought we would carry on living in the house until one of us moved out, her hopefully, we could probably still be friends. Maybe I should say it. I searched for some words, nearly found them, then a crack of orange light appeared from the mound. Emma caught her breath and I froze.
The seven Celtic warriors filed out then made a line in front of us. This time there was no feast. They were dressed for battle, that is, they held weaponry and were naked and engorged . They did not look at me, they looked at Emma and with tremendous understanding I realized. They wanted her, all those years ago she knew they did but had chosen me. My indifference towards her had made her make this decision. All at once the frivolous dislikes I had about her fled. Emma, my fiancé stood and did not even look at me.
"Emma?" I stood too. "You can't, what are you doing?" The words Food Sex and Shelter rung in my ears and I screamed "Conversation! You need to be able to have a fucking conversation!" She looked back then, only to cock an eye brow. Slowly, dreamlike, she walked towards the painted men of the Cantii tribe. They closed around her and led her into the hollow hill.
By Andy Parker
One day she said to me, "let's go for a walk." She had caught me rolling a joint on her dead mother's bible. It was a bad habit of mine but the bible always seemed to be handy. I told her I truly felt bad and would never do it again but she seemed to have something else on her mind. We walked through the May spring, the bluebells were out and birds flitted around with important work. She was wearing that skirt that caught men's eyes, and heaps of blue eye shadow. We didn't talk whilst we walked, in fact we hardly ever talked, conversation had been scant for a long time, but that was because we were overly comfortable with each other surely? As we threaded out way through the beech wood, I felt guilty for getting annoyed with her. How she ate? What was wrong with me. I knew what was wrong with me, I didn't want to be with her, and in my defence, she didn't want to be with me.
We left the beech wood and the old chalk hill fort rose before us. It was a strange place, solemn. I felt a sudden coolness as the equinox winds bounced off the downs and clipped at the edge of the woods. The Romans hadn't touched this fort apparently, it was old and out of use when they invaded. But a strange tale was told of a small group of warriors from the Cantii tribe hiding within the hollow hill, making lightning strikes against Roman Legions before disappearing back into the chalk mound with spoils of food and women. We had come here one night in the early days, torches and sleeping bags in hand. Telling each other the story as we climbed then continuing and embellishing around a fire. We had laid down, suddenly nervous as our ecstatic tales of food and fires and sex concluded. The stars appeared, and a silence descended as we pondered our stories of supernatural violence and romance.
As we ascended on this day, I suddenly wondered why we were going there. Emma seemed intent on something, we had never talked about what happened that night, what we experienced. It was too surreal, too unearthly for us to discuss. We had to put it down to the bottles of red wine, but we remembered, we remembered privately and in every detail.
At the top the solemnness had taken over, the Kent country side was verdant around us and the beech tree wood rocked with the wind. It was strange that this place wasn't on the tourist map, you would see the odd walker with a dog, but not hoards of visitors. We sat down where we had made the fire all those years ago.
"Are you going to say it or am I?" She was looking at a mound in the centre of the flattened out top and not at me as she spoke those words.
"Are we splitting up?" She turned to look at me as if I were from another planet.
"No you gonk, about that night." Oh, I said. I feared I sounded disappointed. I paused then related events.
"It was a hell of a feast. They brought out that steaming cauldron, then made a long table from lengths of wood. They set the table, they piled it with slow cooked meats from many beasts. The broth smelt of juniper berries and hazel nuts, wild garlic and nettles. We drank from ewers of a type of beer. There was black bread smothered in fat, hot and delicious smelling. Behind in that little mound we could see a light flickering orange. There were seven of them, painted in whirling blues with their hair spiked up with chalk. They didn't speak, but ate, they ate like you eat, muttering and grunting and slurping away." Emma smiled at me.
"Food Sex and Shelter. What else can someone want?" She was very faraway with her words.
"We imagined it didn't we? Or engaged in a ghostly scene." I remembered my full belly, and when I got home there was grease on my clothes.
"No we didn't. The world is different to how we are taught it, and when we come up against the difference, we reject it." She nodded, more to herself than to me.
The day was ending and dusk settled around us. I wanted to go home, but Emma kept looking at the mound, a slight smile on her face. I was so sure we were heading to the top of the hill to say goodbye, and I felt cowardly disappointment. I thought we would carry on living in the house until one of us moved out, her hopefully, we could probably still be friends. Maybe I should say it. I searched for some words, nearly found them, then a crack of orange light appeared from the mound. Emma caught her breath and I froze.
The seven Celtic warriors filed out then made a line in front of us. This time there was no feast. They were dressed for battle, that is, they held weaponry and were naked and engorged . They did not look at me, they looked at Emma and with tremendous understanding I realized. They wanted her, all those years ago she knew they did but had chosen me. My indifference towards her had made her make this decision. All at once the frivolous dislikes I had about her fled. Emma, my fiancé stood and did not even look at me.
"Emma?" I stood too. "You can't, what are you doing?" The words Food Sex and Shelter rung in my ears and I screamed "Conversation! You need to be able to have a fucking conversation!" She looked back then, only to cock an eye brow. Slowly, dreamlike, she walked towards the painted men of the Cantii tribe. They closed around her and led her into the hollow hill.
By Andy Parker
Kathryn
They burned his house in Carlsway to the ground. He'd seen the flames from The Old Coach at Craw and had run across the fields with Ted and the others arriving in the garden breathless, desolate. There was nothing to be done, the house was a wall of angry white fire, the hottest it would be. Everything was lost.
Beyond the house to the north, they could see a line of lanterns floating up the hillside through the forest back toward the town. Held aloft by dark invisible hands, their light cast quick and sharp shadows through the trees like a clashing of swords.
In front of the burning house the group had moved back a safe distance and they remained in silence for some time sitting among the swirling smoke and watching the fire decimate the timbers. Beside them in the lake everything was mirrored and when the blackened and precarious skeleton of the house eventually lurched and collapsed to the ground it sent a heralding cascade of burning ash into the air. As they looked the reflection burst across the water like a dying amber star.
As the house fell, the men felt the air sucked from around them with a low whooshing sound, as if the fire were gasping for a final lungful of oxygen to keep it alight. Daire looked upwards to the night sky through a galaxy of cinders and whispered a prayer.
Ted was first to speak, putting a hand on Daire's shoulder. 'Well it's done now. You'll not be worrying at least. Waiting for it to come'.
'She was going to leave Ted.' Daire's face was mottled black from the flying ash and patches of his skin glowed from the heat of the fire which still licked around the pile of debris that once was his home. Ted saw how Daire's tears had dissolved lines down his cheeks, saw the hurt in his eyes.
'I know Daire,' Ted paused, then looking over to his son Martin he added, 'You'll be staying with us now.'
Martin joined in enthusiastically looking back at Ted as he spoke, 'That's right Daire, we've plenty of room with the little ones sharing a cot.'
'That'll be good,' said Daire. 'Until things are put right at least. Thank you, really.' He looked at them both.
Ted nodded. 'You're welcome as long as it takes Daire, you know that.' Ted looked towards the smoldering remains of the house. 'It's a terrible thing they've done. A terrible thing.'
Bill Mahey came over from Dirnham with a machine a few days after the fire and together he and Daire began the work to clear the house remains. They separated what could be reused, Daire would rebuild the house in time, but there was precious little. A few shingles here and there from the roof, and the back room window frame was largely unscathed. Everything else they buried in a pit dug away at the edge of the forest.
In the garden, Bill and Daire looked at the sign erected the night of the fire.
'They've not done this for a while Bill,' Daire said.
'Aye Daire, and I can't say I ever thought I'd see it again. You'll not be taking it down now. I wouldn't even touch it if I was you. They'll be coming for it in time.'
'We'd made the plans Bill. She had her family out to the west; an aunt and cousins. Ted was bringing a horse down for her, did you know that?'
'I did Daire, but they couldn't let her go. You understand? Not out there on her own. It wouldn't be good for the village.'
'But how would they know Bill? She'd have been careful, travelling at night and all.'
Bill chose his words carefully, mulling them over and hearing how they sounded in his own head before finally speaking. 'Daire. Everyone knew. The news of this travelled long ago away from Carlsway, on all points to the sea I don't doubt. It's the way of things.'
'She was sick Bill, I know, but not this.' Daire's eyes led Bill's to a willow coffin which sat a dozen or so feet away on an area of grass the fire hadn't reached. Beside it was a small mound; Kate's body. Bill bowed his head.
Daire had found her in the tangle of the house and had carefully removed her as soon as the fire had abated. They had cut her throat thank God and here over her charred body he'd laid Sweet grass and Dog roses from the garden. Daire walked over to Kate and after kneeling over her for a while, carefully and tenderly, lifted her up. As he held her, the grass and roses slipped away to the ground and they shared one final gruesome embrace before Daire lowered her naked twisted body into the coffin.
Daire had been to the forest to collect Kate's favourite White spotted orchids and these he placed upon her chest, closing her buckled and blistered hands around them. As he closed the lid he realised that leaving her would be the hardest thing he could imagine doing and even though it was too soon, he knew all that is born must return to the earth in time. Beauty is given back to god.
Bill watched from a distance. Presently, he looked up and spoke quietly. 'Kathryn was a fine woman Daire.'
'Aye, she was,' said Daire and he looked again at the sign. It was made of wood. A stake around six feet high had been driven into the ground and near the top, a rough timber board had been nailed to it. Painted on the board in the deepest red, were two broad stokes that formed an unmistakable cross.
By Darren Seeley
Beyond the house to the north, they could see a line of lanterns floating up the hillside through the forest back toward the town. Held aloft by dark invisible hands, their light cast quick and sharp shadows through the trees like a clashing of swords.
In front of the burning house the group had moved back a safe distance and they remained in silence for some time sitting among the swirling smoke and watching the fire decimate the timbers. Beside them in the lake everything was mirrored and when the blackened and precarious skeleton of the house eventually lurched and collapsed to the ground it sent a heralding cascade of burning ash into the air. As they looked the reflection burst across the water like a dying amber star.
As the house fell, the men felt the air sucked from around them with a low whooshing sound, as if the fire were gasping for a final lungful of oxygen to keep it alight. Daire looked upwards to the night sky through a galaxy of cinders and whispered a prayer.
Ted was first to speak, putting a hand on Daire's shoulder. 'Well it's done now. You'll not be worrying at least. Waiting for it to come'.
'She was going to leave Ted.' Daire's face was mottled black from the flying ash and patches of his skin glowed from the heat of the fire which still licked around the pile of debris that once was his home. Ted saw how Daire's tears had dissolved lines down his cheeks, saw the hurt in his eyes.
'I know Daire,' Ted paused, then looking over to his son Martin he added, 'You'll be staying with us now.'
Martin joined in enthusiastically looking back at Ted as he spoke, 'That's right Daire, we've plenty of room with the little ones sharing a cot.'
'That'll be good,' said Daire. 'Until things are put right at least. Thank you, really.' He looked at them both.
Ted nodded. 'You're welcome as long as it takes Daire, you know that.' Ted looked towards the smoldering remains of the house. 'It's a terrible thing they've done. A terrible thing.'
Bill Mahey came over from Dirnham with a machine a few days after the fire and together he and Daire began the work to clear the house remains. They separated what could be reused, Daire would rebuild the house in time, but there was precious little. A few shingles here and there from the roof, and the back room window frame was largely unscathed. Everything else they buried in a pit dug away at the edge of the forest.
In the garden, Bill and Daire looked at the sign erected the night of the fire.
'They've not done this for a while Bill,' Daire said.
'Aye Daire, and I can't say I ever thought I'd see it again. You'll not be taking it down now. I wouldn't even touch it if I was you. They'll be coming for it in time.'
'We'd made the plans Bill. She had her family out to the west; an aunt and cousins. Ted was bringing a horse down for her, did you know that?'
'I did Daire, but they couldn't let her go. You understand? Not out there on her own. It wouldn't be good for the village.'
'But how would they know Bill? She'd have been careful, travelling at night and all.'
Bill chose his words carefully, mulling them over and hearing how they sounded in his own head before finally speaking. 'Daire. Everyone knew. The news of this travelled long ago away from Carlsway, on all points to the sea I don't doubt. It's the way of things.'
'She was sick Bill, I know, but not this.' Daire's eyes led Bill's to a willow coffin which sat a dozen or so feet away on an area of grass the fire hadn't reached. Beside it was a small mound; Kate's body. Bill bowed his head.
Daire had found her in the tangle of the house and had carefully removed her as soon as the fire had abated. They had cut her throat thank God and here over her charred body he'd laid Sweet grass and Dog roses from the garden. Daire walked over to Kate and after kneeling over her for a while, carefully and tenderly, lifted her up. As he held her, the grass and roses slipped away to the ground and they shared one final gruesome embrace before Daire lowered her naked twisted body into the coffin.
Daire had been to the forest to collect Kate's favourite White spotted orchids and these he placed upon her chest, closing her buckled and blistered hands around them. As he closed the lid he realised that leaving her would be the hardest thing he could imagine doing and even though it was too soon, he knew all that is born must return to the earth in time. Beauty is given back to god.
Bill watched from a distance. Presently, he looked up and spoke quietly. 'Kathryn was a fine woman Daire.'
'Aye, she was,' said Daire and he looked again at the sign. It was made of wood. A stake around six feet high had been driven into the ground and near the top, a rough timber board had been nailed to it. Painted on the board in the deepest red, were two broad stokes that formed an unmistakable cross.
By Darren Seeley
Monday, June 24, 2013
Story Idea 7
She's going to leave...
AM
The story should be no more than 4000 words.
Deadline: 21st July 2013
AM
Heirloom
After two or so hours they had buried the last one, tamping down the dry friable soil which wouldn't quite cling together.
Audrey stood up and bent away from her outstretched hands as she slapped them together noisily.
The red dust whipped and twisted around her in unpredictable clouds and she turned her head this way and that to protect her face. She looked back down to Paul still sitting on the ground and saw that one of the heads had already pushed its way back up through the ground. Paul looked despondent.
'It's just what it does Paul. We know that now and it's not necessarily a bad thing.' Audrey forced a positive singsongy lilt into her voice.
'How can any of this not be a bad thing?' He got up off the ground and patted the back of his jeans. Audrey walked over and grabbed his arm, wrapping both of hers around it and pulling herself into his body. With her head against his chest she could smell the day on him, the landscape, the heat and fear.
She stared at the ivory head, no bigger than an egg, now proud of the surface. The crudely carved yellowing and expressionless face was turned upwards to the sky but it would follow the arc of the sun they had learned, it sinking once again beneath the soil when the day ended and the sun disappeared behind the mountains and below the distant horizon.
This place was new. Nearly two hundred miles west from Socorro and a hundred more from home. They had chosen it from the book and Paul had a good feeling this time he said.
They returned on State Route Seventy Seven and headed home, south west to Globe on the shimmering blacktop.
Paul was at the wheel, silent and contemplative, a familiar mood for him after the burials. Audrey hung an arm over the top of the car door letting the warm Arizona air wrap around her fingers. Her wrist would jolt backwards from time to time as the wind met the full force of her closed hand, and she playfully tried to push against it.
Paul spoke.
'I'm not sure I can do this for much longer Aud.' he turned his head meeting her eyes with an intensity. She saw his desperation, the guilt and loss had changed his face, remapped the wrinkles which once exaggerated a beguiling sparkle in his eyes.
'I know baby,' she said sliding a hand across his leg. 'We can do this though, together yeah?' She squeezed his leg to emphasise her point, show her love and hide her doubt.
Paul curled his hand around hers and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her fingers.
Audrey smiled. 'We've managed to lose three of them.'
'Are you counting that one,' Paul said gesturing behind him.
'Yes,' said Audrey hesitantly.
'It may come back Aud, I don't think we can be so sure this early. At least wait until we're home then we'll know.'
'You said you had a feeling earlier and I feel that too. I know the first two came back initially but that was before we found the book. We know what to do now and they will stay buried. And if they don't we'll just try again until they do.' She lifted the seatbelt up and over her head, turning her body towards him.
Paul shook his head. 'You make it sound so easy, Jesus. Like a fucking treasure hunt or something.'
Audrey frowned and squeezed his leg again. 'Hey, do you think I don't know how serious this is? But what choice do we really have. No one can help us Paul. We are utterly alone and I'm so frightened, we have to get on with this now, find Ellie and get as far away from here as we can.'
'But we'll never forget what we've done.' Paul was choked.
She unclipped the seatbelt that was still around her waist, and threw her arms around him wanting to shelter every inch of him in her embrace.
Paul slowed the car and turned into the gas station.
***
Audrey's aunt had died four years ago. In her will she had left a wooden box, an heirloom that belonged to and had been in their family as long as anyone could remember. Her uncle had brought it to the funeral telling Audrey that he wanted to pass it on now not knowing when he would see her again. Audrey wasn't around that much he'd said.
When asked, Audrey's mother knew very little about the box, just remembering it as a ornament in the family house. It remained locked but even as a curious child it never held any mystery for her she recalled, and she never knew what was inside.
With the dark wooden box, Audrey's uncle had given her a silver coloured key which was tarnished and pitted with age. When Audrey first held it, the fine electricity of its metallicness made her fingers tingle and when she slid it into the latch that secured the box it released the mechanism without a sound.
The day after the funeral she had opened the box and seen for the first time the six ivory statues wrapped in a heavy dark linen cloth. A few hours later Audrey's uncle was killed by a hit and run driver a couple of blocks from his house. Paul's father died the same evening of a massive heart attack and their twelve year old daughter Ellie after leaving for school the next morning, had not been seen now for nearly four years. A terrible thing had come into their lives.
Their grief had initially overwhelmed any thought that the heirloom was responsible, but as they gradually returned to normal life following the investigations and searches, bad things continued to happen and it was Paul who first raised the possibility and the coincidence. That their lives were being destroyed.
Audrey believed it and took the box of statues to a thrift store. She had been keeping them in a cupboard under the stairs and the first time it took her three weeks to realise they had returned to the house. She had dismissed the strange incident as a moment of misrememberance; whilst imagining herself removing the box and delivering it to the Salvation Army, she hadn't actually done it. The second time the box returned Audrey hid until Paul came home and he found her shaking and incoherent sitting among some old furniture in the garage.
They had found the book after a a couple of years during another attempt to dismantle the box. Paul had inadvertently pushed something and the base had fallen out revealing a secret compartment. Inside was a small clothbound book which held the answers Audrey and Paul had been seeking.
***
'Hey, do you want me to take over for a while?' Audrey stretched her arms above her head and let her hand drop to the back of Paul's neck which she stroked affectionately.
'No, I'm fine,' Paul replied. 'We've just passed Sharton, so only another half an hour now.'
'I can smell it, can you?' Audrey looked behind her to the rear of the car.
'Yeah, a bit. I don't think it ever quite disappeared from the last one.' Paul briefly took his hands off the steering wheel and grimaced. 'I want to change the car when this is over.'
'Definitely,' said Audrey. 'I was thinking, are these people really random? I know the book says it must be the first person we see after the burials but I can't help feeling it knows, is influencing us in some way.'
'You mean are they chosen by something, someone other than us?'
'Yes. Perhaps they are bad people Paul. Maybe, that is why we are being made to do this.' There was a desperation in her voice.
Paul turned to Audrey and smiled. 'That would help baby wouldn't it.'
Audrey began to sob. 'Yes,' she said covering her face with her hands. She looked at Paul. 'I just want Ellie back.'
Paul stroked her hair away from her eyes. 'I know honey and we will get her back whatever it takes.' He looked in the rearview mirror. 'Whatever it takes.'
By Darren Seeley
Audrey stood up and bent away from her outstretched hands as she slapped them together noisily.
The red dust whipped and twisted around her in unpredictable clouds and she turned her head this way and that to protect her face. She looked back down to Paul still sitting on the ground and saw that one of the heads had already pushed its way back up through the ground. Paul looked despondent.
'It's just what it does Paul. We know that now and it's not necessarily a bad thing.' Audrey forced a positive singsongy lilt into her voice.
'How can any of this not be a bad thing?' He got up off the ground and patted the back of his jeans. Audrey walked over and grabbed his arm, wrapping both of hers around it and pulling herself into his body. With her head against his chest she could smell the day on him, the landscape, the heat and fear.
She stared at the ivory head, no bigger than an egg, now proud of the surface. The crudely carved yellowing and expressionless face was turned upwards to the sky but it would follow the arc of the sun they had learned, it sinking once again beneath the soil when the day ended and the sun disappeared behind the mountains and below the distant horizon.
This place was new. Nearly two hundred miles west from Socorro and a hundred more from home. They had chosen it from the book and Paul had a good feeling this time he said.
They returned on State Route Seventy Seven and headed home, south west to Globe on the shimmering blacktop.
Paul was at the wheel, silent and contemplative, a familiar mood for him after the burials. Audrey hung an arm over the top of the car door letting the warm Arizona air wrap around her fingers. Her wrist would jolt backwards from time to time as the wind met the full force of her closed hand, and she playfully tried to push against it.
Paul spoke.
'I'm not sure I can do this for much longer Aud.' he turned his head meeting her eyes with an intensity. She saw his desperation, the guilt and loss had changed his face, remapped the wrinkles which once exaggerated a beguiling sparkle in his eyes.
'I know baby,' she said sliding a hand across his leg. 'We can do this though, together yeah?' She squeezed his leg to emphasise her point, show her love and hide her doubt.
Paul curled his hand around hers and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her fingers.
Audrey smiled. 'We've managed to lose three of them.'
'Are you counting that one,' Paul said gesturing behind him.
'Yes,' said Audrey hesitantly.
'It may come back Aud, I don't think we can be so sure this early. At least wait until we're home then we'll know.'
'You said you had a feeling earlier and I feel that too. I know the first two came back initially but that was before we found the book. We know what to do now and they will stay buried. And if they don't we'll just try again until they do.' She lifted the seatbelt up and over her head, turning her body towards him.
Paul shook his head. 'You make it sound so easy, Jesus. Like a fucking treasure hunt or something.'
Audrey frowned and squeezed his leg again. 'Hey, do you think I don't know how serious this is? But what choice do we really have. No one can help us Paul. We are utterly alone and I'm so frightened, we have to get on with this now, find Ellie and get as far away from here as we can.'
'But we'll never forget what we've done.' Paul was choked.
She unclipped the seatbelt that was still around her waist, and threw her arms around him wanting to shelter every inch of him in her embrace.
Paul slowed the car and turned into the gas station.
***
Audrey's aunt had died four years ago. In her will she had left a wooden box, an heirloom that belonged to and had been in their family as long as anyone could remember. Her uncle had brought it to the funeral telling Audrey that he wanted to pass it on now not knowing when he would see her again. Audrey wasn't around that much he'd said.
When asked, Audrey's mother knew very little about the box, just remembering it as a ornament in the family house. It remained locked but even as a curious child it never held any mystery for her she recalled, and she never knew what was inside.
With the dark wooden box, Audrey's uncle had given her a silver coloured key which was tarnished and pitted with age. When Audrey first held it, the fine electricity of its metallicness made her fingers tingle and when she slid it into the latch that secured the box it released the mechanism without a sound.
The day after the funeral she had opened the box and seen for the first time the six ivory statues wrapped in a heavy dark linen cloth. A few hours later Audrey's uncle was killed by a hit and run driver a couple of blocks from his house. Paul's father died the same evening of a massive heart attack and their twelve year old daughter Ellie after leaving for school the next morning, had not been seen now for nearly four years. A terrible thing had come into their lives.
Their grief had initially overwhelmed any thought that the heirloom was responsible, but as they gradually returned to normal life following the investigations and searches, bad things continued to happen and it was Paul who first raised the possibility and the coincidence. That their lives were being destroyed.
Audrey believed it and took the box of statues to a thrift store. She had been keeping them in a cupboard under the stairs and the first time it took her three weeks to realise they had returned to the house. She had dismissed the strange incident as a moment of misrememberance; whilst imagining herself removing the box and delivering it to the Salvation Army, she hadn't actually done it. The second time the box returned Audrey hid until Paul came home and he found her shaking and incoherent sitting among some old furniture in the garage.
They had found the book after a a couple of years during another attempt to dismantle the box. Paul had inadvertently pushed something and the base had fallen out revealing a secret compartment. Inside was a small clothbound book which held the answers Audrey and Paul had been seeking.
***
'Hey, do you want me to take over for a while?' Audrey stretched her arms above her head and let her hand drop to the back of Paul's neck which she stroked affectionately.
'No, I'm fine,' Paul replied. 'We've just passed Sharton, so only another half an hour now.'
'I can smell it, can you?' Audrey looked behind her to the rear of the car.
'Yeah, a bit. I don't think it ever quite disappeared from the last one.' Paul briefly took his hands off the steering wheel and grimaced. 'I want to change the car when this is over.'
'Definitely,' said Audrey. 'I was thinking, are these people really random? I know the book says it must be the first person we see after the burials but I can't help feeling it knows, is influencing us in some way.'
'You mean are they chosen by something, someone other than us?'
'Yes. Perhaps they are bad people Paul. Maybe, that is why we are being made to do this.' There was a desperation in her voice.
Paul turned to Audrey and smiled. 'That would help baby wouldn't it.'
Audrey began to sob. 'Yes,' she said covering her face with her hands. She looked at Paul. 'I just want Ellie back.'
Paul stroked her hair away from her eyes. 'I know honey and we will get her back whatever it takes.' He looked in the rearview mirror. 'Whatever it takes.'
By Darren Seeley
Curse
The goblet arrived on a Tuesday, by Thursday they were certain there was something very wrong with it. The condition of the piece was exactly as the agent had described; mint. The problem wasn’t in the goblets physical appearance, it was the goblet itself, it was different. Even Mistress seemed unsure of her new acquisition. She would look at it with a slight purse to her lips but she wouldn’t touch it, even when her fingers would absent-mindedly caress the other inhabitants of the Victorian mantle, they never strayed close to it. Could she sense the same difference in it that they could? Whether she could or not wasn’t clear but she hadn’t named it yet and the rest of them had been named within minutes.
Its essence was all wrong. It was dark and somehow sinister; it was something none of the others had ever come across. The average antiques essence was uplifting and loving which was to be expected considering the origin of the essence was the adoring former owners themselves. Upon their passing the essence of the owner was imbued into their favourite item and that love and adoration lingered in them still. The dark essence in the goblet didn’t feel like anything formerly human; it felt like…evil.
This was sensed most strongly by Swig who had the misfortune of being the goblets closest neighbour. Swig was a Victorian hip flask with an intricately carved silver base and lid and a facetted glass body. Circa 1858 the flask had been passed down through the Cutler family line until Mistress had procured it from a car boot sale in Stevenage. Previously charged with delivery of Dutch courage to soldiers in many wars and then to warding off the cold on frosty morning hunts, Swig now spent his days basking in Mistress’s love. Next to Swig was China; China was an antique plate bearing a hand painted scene of Loch Lomond. The plate had been stolen from the Duke of Durham sixty years earlier and had been so loved by its liberator that he had been clutching the plate to his chest as he’d taken his last breath.
The carriage clock encased in ebonized wood and known as Tick Tock came next. Tick Tock had been won by its owner after an extremely bitter and acrimonious divorce settlement. All the good fortune that had been bestowed on the owner since that victory she’d attributed to the delightful little clock. And then, finally, there was an inkwell Mistress had named Inky. Inky contained no essence; they suspected it was a knock off. Mistress didn’t have anyone else in her life so she gave them all her love and they loved her right back.
It was early evening the first time they sensed a startling change in the goblet. Mistress was rushing about the flat excitedly, already on her fourth change of outfit, when the dark essence they were growing accustomed to turned malevolent. The others grew fearful when they realised the malevolence was directed towards Mistress, trying to allure her to it. The essence meant to harm her.
Panic erupted along the mantle as they helplessly watched the goblet work its dark magic. Either the goblets sinister allure wasn’t strong enough or Mistress’s ministrations to making up her face proved too distracting but to their relief the allure went ignored. Their fear for Mistress abated when, after a final inspection in the full length mirror and a muttered prayer, she left the flat. The malevolence turned on them and if silver, glass and china could’ve trembled they would’ve. They tried to project the love that always made Mistress sing to neutralise it but the dark essence was too powerful. They were hopelessly outgunned.
When Mistress returned her excitement had been replaced with misery. Her shoulders were bowed and tears had created blacks tracks of mascara down her plain face. This saddened them; they didn’t like Mistress to be unhappy. After banging about in the kitchen Mistress came out with one of her Waterford crystal glasses filled nearly to the brim with white wine. This saddened them as well, whenever Mistress drank from her Waterford she was always very cross with herself in the morning.
She sat on the couch facing the fireplace and looked at her antiquities, the things she loved most in the world, as she took big mouthfuls from her expensive glass. They tried to cheer her with their love but her attention was locked on the goblet. The essence within it stirred, once again intent on alluring her to it. The same helpless panic raced along the mantle.
Eventually she stood on slightly unsteady legs and neared the fireplace. They projected love even harder, trying desperately to distract her from the evil before her. All efforts stalled and disquiet filled the others as Mistress poured the pale gold liquid into the goblet. She was going to drink from the goblet! They didn’t know what would happen if she did, just that it would be very, very bad.
In a perfect example of the love they harboured for Mistress, China forced his essence around and around the plate until it wobbled out of its holder and fell to the ground at her feet.
In an instant Mistress forgot the goblet as she fell to her knees in tears and gathered the three pieces of China into her hands. She wailed and clutched them to her chest as though she had lost a loved one. More black tracks stained her face but she was safe.
Swig marvelled at the sacrifice China had made to save Mistress.
The full extent of his sacrifice became clear the next morning when Mistress placed a well glued together China back into his holder. They could detect no essence in the plate, China was gone.
It was almost a week before the thing in the goblet tried again to lure Mistress into its trap.
Once again Mistress had left the flat in a state of anticipation and returned dejected. This time though the Waterford Crystal stayed in its cabinet and Mistress poured the white wine directly into the goblet. Panic gripped Swig as her fingers curled around the ornate base of the goblet and the thing within almost vibrated with malice.
The goblet neared Mistress’s lips and Swig knew he had to save her. He loved her too much to let whatever evil was in that goblet harm her. As Tick Tock pleaded for the goblet to stop Swig forced his essence as quickly as he could to the top of the flask. He toppled and then fell forward. His front hit the mantle and his lid popped out and hit the ground. The rest of the flask teetered then followed. Before Swig hit the ground, Mistress dropped the goblet, its contents splashing her legs as she leapt forward and grasped the flask mid fall. Her foot came down on Swigs lid and she lost her balance. She fell, her head cracking against the oak coffee table as she went, until she landed flat on her back.
Swig fell from her hand to settle next to her hip and the empty goblet rolled into the wall.
Swig was triumphant. He had saved Mistress.
Tick Tock was strangely un-jubilant from her post above them.
There was quite a lot of blood oozing from beneath Mistress’s head. It flowed along the hard wood floor and pooled around Swig, coating the flask. He was going to need cleaning once Mistress woke.
If he’d had Tick Tock’s vantage point he may have registered her vacant eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. But he didn’t so all he knew was that soon she would awaken. He had saved her.
***
Swig stood on a shelf in an antique shop but he wasn’t alone anymore. He could feel another presence within the silver and glass walls of the hip flask. Instinctually he knew this new comer entering the flask had been made possible by Mistress’s blood but it wasn’t Mistress he sensed. Her presence would’ve been light and airy possibly even smelling of Lillie’s. This presence was black and oily and it closed around his essence like a warm hand. Swig recognised it as the presence that had inhabited the goblet but he no longer feared it.
It had power. It was intoxicating. It promised him release.
Swig embraced the darkness and bided his time. Soon someone would drink from him and then he would be released. Soon.
Around him the other essences cowered in fear.
By Dayv Metcalfe
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