Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9)

by Michael Christopher Carter

  “Wow. You’re being rather spoiled, young lady!” commented Collin. He didn’t really mind.

  Aeron sat in silence as he usually did in the company of other people’s parents. He was used to not really being approved of. He wasn’t sure why. Bronwyn, conversely, was a parents’ dream. She charmed and chatted easily, putting Collin right at ease.

  After sufficient recuperation, the time for the Hedges family to begin the long journey back to East Hertfordshire, beckoned. Aeron and Bronwyn helped by carrying some of Neil’s things to the car, and entertaining Emma with peek-a-boo and silly faces.

  Ensconced in Collin’s large Jaguar, the horn was tooted, waves of goodbye given, and wishes of Merry Christmas and Happy New Year echoed down the street until the car disappeared around the corner.

  Aeron and Bronwyn waved until they were out of sight, then walked arm in arm back to the house for some long anticipated alone time before they too would be whisked back to their home towns by eager families.

  The Hedges’ travelled down the hill from Neil’s campus, heading out of the city. Emma piped up from the back of the car,

  “Who was that girl?” she asked innocently. Neil was confused because she’d met Bronwyn several times before. Maybe she’d lost weight or changed her hair and make-up. Neil hadn’t noticed, but that didn’t surprise him.

  “That’s Bronwyn, you silly,” he said. “You’ve seen her loads of times.” Emma looked surprised.

  “No. Not Bronnie. I do know her. The other girl. The blonde one, standing by the window.”

  Chapter Eight

  The colour drained from Neil’s face before Emma even finished her sentence.

  “Wha…what blonde girl?” he mumbled.

  “She was pretty. But I don’t think she was very pleased with you! She looked cross. I thought she might be your girlfriend or something, and you’d upset her ‘cause you didn’t introduce us. I would have said when we were in the house, but she wasn’t there for long.” She paused in thought. “And then I had the chocolate Santa and all the biscuits and I forgot… Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” Neil sighed hoarsely, staring resolutely ahead, anxious to disguise his terror from his little sister.

  He looked across at his dad, who through many years of not getting involved in sibling squabbles, appeared oblivious to the odd conversation his two children were having. Neil didn’t know what explanation to offer, other than that he hadn’t seen the girl she was talking about.

  “You must have!” she insisted. “She was right there!” Neil floundered for an answer.

  “Look, Em. I’m too tired now. Can we talk about this another time? I want to relax for Christmas. What have you put on your list?” Emma babbled on and the crisis averted for now.

  Collin tapped the steering wheel and smiled along to the radio, unaware of the disquiet growing in the seat beside him. He turned to his son and grinned as one of his favourite ‘golden oldies’ was selected by the incessantly upbeat midnight DJ. Neil removed a chewed fingernail from his teeth and smiled back as best he could. Collin noticed nothing untoward and let the road regain his full attention.

  The relief of speeding away from Wales’ second city and the phantom girl in his lounge, was countered with terror of his return. Could he ever face coming back?

  He had seen films about ghosts, and poltergeists in particular stayed around because they wanted something. So, who was she? And what did she want? If he could find out, could everything return to normal again?

  A sigh eased the strain. It was something he could actually do. A little Google research and things might look a lot more promising. Maybe he’d find a girl who died in the house who had what she saw as ‘unfinished business.’

  A surge of anticipation raised him in his seat and he shuffled from cheek to cheek at the prospect of detective work. Picturing the girl grateful for his help in whatever it was she needed, he blushed as he recognised he was partly pleased because Emma had said she was pretty. How pathetic. How desperate am I?

  Saving a damsel in distress sounded appealing though. His unexpected bravery surprised him. The increasing distance from Swansea must be playing with his psyche. He suspected he was all talk (or all thought, anyway). If the girl were to manifest before him in the lounge of number twenty-four, he would probably faint.

  If he found a solution from a distance (which a country and a dozen counties gave him), he need never worry. The feasibility of that goal was something he preferred not to dwell on, for now at least.

  His thoughts bouncing around his skull like balls in a lottery gave him a headache.

  “You okay driving, Dad?” he asked with a yawn. “Is it okay if I get some shut-eye?” Collin nodded, still dashboard dancing to his tunes. Neil leant on his arm against the window. Filled with distress and alternate relief as his thoughts insisted on ruminating the possibilities of a resolution, he fell asleep. The many nights of disturbed sleep back in Swansea clearly taking their toll.

  His consciousness roused to acknowledge passing over the long bridge into England. He stirred briefly again when they stopped for Collin to stretch his legs at the motorway services. By the time they reached the M25 he was sound asleep again and didn’t wake until he was nudged by his dad on the driveway of the family home

  “That was quick,” Neil commented, rubbing some feeling back into his arm, numb from contorting against the window. Collin snorted in amusement

  “Four hours and twenty minutes, including breaks!”

  Neil sheepishly realised the effort his dad had put into collecting him tonight. “Sorry. Thanks Dad. I’m really glad to be home.”

  “Glad to have you,” Collin said, reaching over and ruffling his son’s hair.

  Neil carried Emma in, whilst Collin lugged a couple of his bags. He was thrilled and surprised that his mum was still up, albeit snoozing, with the telly threatening to go into standby.

  “Hello, angel!” she greeted blearily. Hooded eyes smiled and she pushed herself up from the couch to enwrap her son in a tight hug. Neil noted with regret that he still wasn’t as tall as his mum. He didn’t even seem to be catching her up.

  They chatted briefly about nothing of significance before the entire family retired for a long needed good night’s sleep.

  “It’s nice to ‘av the place to ourselves, babes,” Bronwyn said to what she could see of Aeron’s chin as she lay on the couch with her head on his lap. He stroked her head in response.

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” she encouraged. “Give us a scalp massage. One of them Indian ones would be just the job”.

  Aeron picked up strands of hair uninspiringly whilst he nodded off to sleep. Bronwyn nudged him awake a couple of times before giving up and leaving him to his slumber. The film on television had gained her attention with an intriguing plot that her somnolent mind struggled to keep up with.

  She gave into fatigue for brief, spasmodic periods, enough to make the storyline unfathomable. She continued to kid herself that fathom it she could indeed accomplish, but proved herself incorrect when she awoke to a different film which had come on afterwards.

  In her delirium, it took a while to recognise it wasn’t the same one. When she realised, she debated if she should rouse Aeron and go to bed, but felt so comfy, she allowed herself to drift off again where she was.

  Squinting for a moment, she peered about, unsure what had woken her. When she saw, she froze as her saucer eyes comprehended her surroundings, grabbed her consciousness and shook it hard. She was wide awake now, but didn’t trust her senses. Impulsively pushing herself further into Aeron’s thick arms, she hissed his name in a near-silent whisper.

  She patted him, uncertain if he was awake and petrified like herself, or if he was still fast asleep. Wanting desperately to steal a glance at him, she just couldn’t take her eyes from the unfathomable apparition before her.

  Tapping frantically at her boyfriend’s hand, willing him to wake up but loath to make a sound, she shed a tear from her trembling
lids when a loud snore signified she’d deal with whatever this was, alone.

  The girl, about her own age, seemed unaware of her as she stood in front of the window, gazing out. The vision was there for only a second before disappearing back into the ether. When Bronwyn shook her head to dispel sleep, and the notion this was a dream, the girl had disappeared.

  Had it just been a dream? What else could it have been? But she had seemed so real; like she could reach out and touch her.

  “Aeron!” she shouted, and louder again, “Aeron!!”

  He woke with a start, instantly picking up a lock of Bronwyn’s hair and continuing with the feeble head massage he’d been performing before he fell asleep. “Sorry, babe,” he muttered, assuming that was why she had woken him.

  “There was someone there!” she hissed, pointing towards the window. Aeron sat up and roused himself to the threat of whoever Bronwyn was alerting him to.

  “Were they in the garden?”

  “No! Not in the garden. In the lounge, three feet away from us staring through the window. Then she just disappeared!”

  Aeron didn’t know what to make of it. He’d half believed Jon when he had been afraid, but now Bronwyn? She was so smart and clever. She should definitely be trusted.

  “We have drunk quite a bit. Do you think you just had some sort of hallucination?”

  Certain he believed her and was only trying to be helpful, Bronwyn gave serious consideration to his suggestion. She supposed it had to be the answer. What was the alternative? A ghost? “I suppose it must have been. I don’t even believe in ghosts, so that’s the only answer isn’t it?” she admitted.

  He nodded, but something wasn’t right. He’d never given any thought to whether he believed in ghosts. Now the question assaulted his mind daily.

  “Is there any possibility it might be a ghost?” Aeron couldn’t help but ask. Bronwyn frowned and shook her head.

  “I don’t think so. I did when I saw it,” she confessed, careful to objectify what she’d seen as an ‘it,’ and not ‘her.’ “But, I’m sure you’re right. A hallucination makes a lot more sense. We have drunk a lot, as you say, and I’m super-tired.”

  Unconvinced, they said no more.

  “Find something light-hearted on the telly,” Aeron suggested. “I’ll go and make us some nice strong coffee.” They were already wide awake, but sobering up suddenly seemed like a really good idea.

  Chapter Nine

  The pretty market town of Llandovery, nearly forty miles north of Swansea, and the other side of the Black Mountain massif of the Brecon Beacons National Park, looked resplendent in its Christmas glory. The colourful lights on the guild hall were the centre piece. In partnership with an absolutely enormous tree, they gave the town a magical ambience.

  Elin Treharne was usually much more enamoured with the display than she was today. She just felt too ill to enjoy it. Well behind with her Christmas shopping, she had forced herself from the comfort of her parents’ house, where she had been recuperating, to do at least a bit before the big day. No-one would expect very much from her this year, but she wanted to get something.

  Having completed her degree from Swansea University, she’d been far too poorly to begin her career. Financially, it hadn’t been the disaster it could have, ironically, due to her illness. Since her glandular fever had taken its toll and left her virtually bed-ridden, she had been living back with her parents for convalescence. An all-inclusive deal for the sum of zero rent.

  Today, she was shopping with what little money she did have, perusing the array of stores in the town with an apathetic disposition. Picking up the occasional item and trying to imagine her mum, or her dad, or her sister with it, and immediately feeling unimpressed and putting it straight back.

  Meandering through Llandovery’s cobbled streets, fatigue ate away at her doggedness with the biting cold adding shivers to her trembling frail frame. She pulled her coat about her, even though it was already closed as much as it could.

  She didn’t want to walk too far in the wintry air and soon found herself in the warm comfort of a familiar shop, the one closest to her heart—the town’s bookshop—and quickly became engrossed.

  She wasn’t sure books were gifts her family wanted, but couldn’t help feeling excited. Her heart skipped at the very sight of a book. Confronted with shelves and shelves full of every sort, Elin was in her element.

  At home she boasted a stack of titles so high she didn’t have a hope of reading them all. Particularly as she continued to buy more and more before she read even a tenth of those she already owned. She didn’t care. She just couldn’t resist.

  After a good time flicking through a dozen or more possibilities, she settled on a few ideal(ish) presents. A couple of romantic novels—a historic one for her mum, and a far more adult choice for her sister. Her dad’s present was a pictorial history of the area. He didn’t have the patience for novels. She hoped he didn’t own it already as he was quite a collector of anything local. She felt fairly sure it wasn’t on any of his overflowing shelves.

  It struck her that home was perhaps not what she should call her parents’ house, as she hadn’t lived there before Uni. It was her mum and dad’s hard earned retirement treat. Her mum, Glenda, had worked for years as a nurse and her dad, Emyr, a successful architect.

  Due to their respective careers, they’d had children relatively late in life. Glenda, in her thirties when she and her sister, Alis, were born two years apart, and Emyr had been in his forties.

  Alis, now in her second year of a B.A. in Film and English; and much to Elin’s chagrin, in the rather more prestigious Bristol University, was a whirlwind. Elin couldn’t wait to see her, but worried her lethargy would get in the way of their fun. She was back for the Christmas holidays today. Her train due in at seven.

  Elin paid for the three books (and a couple more for herself to add to her collection) and left the shop, quietly pleased.

  Seeing advertised on a chalk board outside a quaint café: mince pies and mulled wine, she stopped and sniffed the air. Studying her purse, there was about enough change for a seasonal treat, but she didn’t go in. Shrugging, she turned away, her concerns of spreading germs to the good people in town getting the better of her. Being out at all had been risky. She probably wasn’t contagious anymore, but if there was a chance, then sharing crockery, glasses, and cutlery would be a definite no-no. Glandular Fever would be an awful gift to give.

  She called into the news-agents and bought festive patterned wrapping paper, and bows, then called a taxi for the short trip back to her parents’ new home. The three pounds to pay because she felt too rough to walk less than a mile, she resented, but there was no choice. Glenda had dropped her off earlier so she hadn’t had to pay twice at least.

  The taxi pulled into the impressive driveway of Erw Lon (which translated into ‘Quiet Acre’). Elin grabbed her couple of bags and paid. The driver seemed to be waiting for a tip, the Christmas season and the large house growing his expectations. Embarrassed that one would not be forthcoming, Elin walked up the path from the gravel drive, pausing only to give a dismissive wave before opening the door and disappearing indoors.

  Inside the large grey Victorian house, the cold, square hallway leered in sombrely. Christmas adornments did little to lift the oppressiveness. A holly wreath hanging on the mirror made Elin think more of a funeral parlour than a family home at Christmas.

  Rising like two mighty serpents, the staircase forked left and right from a half-landing and hung sinisterly above her head like the impenetrable blackness of an angry storm cloud. Shadows cast by various ornaments on shelves and in alcoves projected eerie images on the chequered red and white tiled floor and white-washed walls.

  It was a strange way to feel about her parents’ beloved new home, but being alone here gave her a queasy uneasiness. Trying to shake off her absurdity, she couldn’t help rushing a little on her way into the lounge. The warmth of the red walls and pretty pine tree with its
strings of fairy lights welcomed her as though stepping into a different house. She sighed in relief.

  Taking the chance of her time alone, she wrapped the few presents and put them under the tree. When she’d placed them jauntily with the others, she was dismayed to feel completely wiped out and had to lie down on the sofa.

  Her reluctance was not only due to all the time wasted away to her unconsciousness, but more because her unconsciousness had not been a very pleasant place to reside.

  Intolerable visions had plagued her dreams more and more. Her recollection was patchy, but frequently she awoke, heart pounding, racked with desperate emotions she couldn’t place.

  Sleep had improved for the last few nights, but she didn’t know when the next terrible nightmare would torment her. Despite her reluctance, she had no choice but to give in to exhaustion and rest.

  “Elin?” the soft voice permeated her slumber as Glenda shook her gently awake. “How are you feeling, cariad?”

  “Exhausted,” she admitted.

  “I told you, you didn’t need to go out and get us presents. We all would have understood,” her mum scolded with a shade of sympathy.

  “How do you know I got you anything?” Elin teased. Glenda nodded her head toward the tree. “Ah.” Elin smiled.

  A steaming cup of tea greeted her from its place on one of the nest of tables by the fireplace. Glenda smoothed her skirt as she sat down beside her. Her neat bob of brown hair shone in odd waves, reflecting opaque lights from the tree as they flickered on and off and on again.

  She placed her cup, on its matching saucer on her lap before bringing it up to her lips to take dainty sips. Elin slid around from laying down so she could grab her tea in her favourite large mug. She always joked she only kept it in the cupboard in case they had any tradesmen in.