by Jim Ody
“Okay, weird small boy aside…what about these stories then?”
“What stories?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure whether this is the cliff path, but do you think you could be blown over that fence?” Paul said, flicking his hand in that direction. He had a point. There were bushes and thickets all over the place, and unless there was something that would be considered “freakish” when it came to the wind, then it was hard to imagine how someone could be picked up and tossed over the fence, thickets, and then cliff-face.
“Unless there was a tornado or something, I really don’t see how someone along here could have ended up over the side, unless they had climbed the fence, fought through the bushes and then either lost their balance, or deliberately jumped off of the cliff.”
“Right then, my dear,” Paul said. “Let’s get going again.”
“Yes, shall we cook up some burgers again?”
“That sounds like a fine idea! Or we could go for a drive and see some beaches?” Nodding, she grabbed his hand, and off they went again.
As they reached the trees, the path went either straight on or stopped at a gateway. The gateway led to an overgrown path that went off towards what seemed to be an old house.
“Debs, fancy checking out the house?” he said, loving the way that the house stood alone, up high on the hill, half in the woods.
She shrugged. She didn’t mind looking at the odd places out in the middle of nowhere, but Paul was a bit like a child in these situations, so she let him get on with it. She felt safe with him around anyway.
“Okay,” she said.
And off they went to the house.
The abandoned house with the van, the body, the scream, and of course the camera…
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Seventeen
A year ago
“C an I get you anything else?” the semi-handsome guy said, clearing an adjacent table of mugs and plates. He’d grown an impressive beard recently in line with the current fashion trend, and his hair was greased in a side parting on one side, and shaved high the other.
Debbie shook her head and smiled, but her mind was off elsewhere. She had no time for another man in her life, whether or not they were considered handsome and beard-growth capable.
Her mobile sounded, informing her of a text message, and she shrugged to herself as she read it. Sorry x sent by her friend, Ruby, who had just left in a rush due to some emergency happening over at the tattoo shop she managed. Debbie wasn’t sure exactly what would constitute an emergency there, but then her experience of tattoo shops was a small “peace” sign on her ankle when she was barely eighteen and a large and incredibly painful floral design down her back a few years ago. The staff all appeared laid back and incapable of doing anything that could cause sudden panic. The owner, Eddie, was an affable guy, who smiled constantly and was considered a legend within his tattoo world—or so Ruby had said, gushing over him.
She sipped on her latte and gently rubbed her swollen belly again, thinking maybe she should cut down on her caffeine intake, if not for herself then for her baby. She smiled at that, although a wave of apprehension washed over her—the way it does to all first-time mothers with the thought of the labour and the responsibility of looking after another human being other than yourself. How had she managed to get where she was today? A year ago she was single, periodically seeing a married guy called Mark, and living with a stripper called Tiffany.
She had met Paul on a bus ride. A doomed bus ride as it turned out when the bus broke down. He’d been sat behind her and struck up a conversation—something along the lines of, “These are meant to be more convenient and make us want to leave our cars at home. God, what I wouldn’t do to have my car here right now!”
She had smiled at first, but he seemed like he wasn’t hitting on her, and that made him all the more interesting. “So you’ll be driving tomorrow then?” she said and looked away. She wasn’t overly bothered whether or not he’d decided to reply.
“My car’s broken. If I had it here, it would mean that it was fixed, but I know it’s not, so no, I will be queuing up again like a numpty, telling myself—like everyone else here will be doing—that today was a one off, and what are the chances of it happening again?”
She’d turned around, realising too late she was tossing back her hair. “It’ll happen again sometime, that’s an accepted fact. You know that, and I know that, but we also enjoy the lottery it brings us.”
He nodded. “Maybe that’s it. We endure periods of pain to heighten any pleasure. ”
And a week later the bus broke down again, but by then, they’d been out on a couple of dates and seen each other naked, so really, they couldn’t care less.
Debbie eased herself out of the chair, raised a hand and mouthed “bye” to the semi-handsome guy with the beard before leaving to walk home.
Although the day had brought bright sunshine and humidity, a cold chill tickled her spine when she saw her. She could not explain the feeling, but seeing Paul’s ex, always filled her with dread. And here she was walking up the stairs of the shopping centre towards her, with a face scowling so hard the muscles would more than likely ache for days. She was very pretty in a “made up with makeup” kind of way, skinny like a model and flashing dark tanned skin like an open invitation. The contrast of the incredibly white décor and clean lines of the shopping centre with her dark and deadly beauty were almost a sign of good versus evil.
Her heart beat fast, and her hand automatically held her bump. Then everything happened quickly. Right at the point of relaxing as she passed, someone went into her, and the world tumbled around painfully as she felt the edges of each of the steps on her descent. Until finally having hit her head, she lay still on the floor like a broken doll. Already, she felt that something was not right.
The last thing she saw before blacking out was her at the top of the stairs, smiling. Somewhere, a woman was screaming hysterically, and a man was speaking quickly on a mobile. Debbie felt the wetness first before realising that it was bright crimson and soaking through the crotch of her trousers.
She was in hospital for forty-eight hours, and having been finally discharged, she sat holding Paul tightly and crying wave after wave of tears.
She had lost her baby, and all because of her.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Eighteen
Present day
A year before Debbie’s accident, Paul was in love with a girl called Christina. They had been together for five years, and Christina was desperate to move things along. Her Italian background sometimes gave her a no-nonsense persona, but the truth of the matter she was incredibly insecure, and longed to live out the fairy tale princess dream she’d had since she was a small child.
There was never any doubt she had beauty. Her mother was born in Naples and her father, while British, had Greek parentage, and this gave Christina her dark complexion and long shining black hair. She had dimples when she smiled and dark-chocolate-coloured eyes. Paul couldn’t believe his luck.
A devout Christian may say that sometimes God likes to test your faith, and a psychologist may suggest that life is not without its challenges, but we have choices. We can choose to deal with our problems or wallow in self-pity and descend into depression.
Ultimately, we are the keepers of our own destiny; we just need a helpful nudge in the right direction once in a while.
Through no apparent fault of his own, Paul was given one of these challenges, and as we so often see in life, it suddenly sent him off into a completely different path indeed.
They had talked more seriously about children, and of the benefits of marriage. Over the past few months, their lovemaking no longer included contraceptives, their joint decision leaving things to fate. Christina had suddenly started to get more frustrated. Her winning smile had taken a leave of absence, and their lovemaking sessions, while more frequent, were less sensual and filled more with an anima
l release. A strange competitive edge had crept in, like it was a challenge that required effort and endurance, rather than the act of love. The whole dynamics and focus of their time together no longer was about exploration, excitement, and pleasure, but was rushed, feverish, and devoid of feeling.
Paul struggled with the change, and although Christina had a body that was naturally flawless, smoothly petite but athletic, he felt anonymous in his role as a living sperm donor, not to mention being the person picking up the pieces each time the negative results came back. Once a best friend, he was now the verbal punch bag, when the aggressive accusations pointed at him being the reason. She had a vast expanse of theories which ranged from his job and how he must be too stressed, to his sugary and high-caffeine diet, a tired body from too much sport or the cold weather. Each month, a fresh court case rested with the prosecution twisting titbits and tales with single witness accounts, planted evidence, and more than a splattering of hearsay, but the jury kept coming back with the same foreman reading out the same guilty result to him and his sperm. Even when his sperm was given the thumbs up by the doctor, this only proved he was culpable elsewhere. Maybe he was cheating, not trying or deliberately sabotaging their efforts. Perhaps he didn’t want children after all, she had shouted at him in the middle of a packed coffee shop.
The cracks in the relationship began to appear.
The fun times of laughter, the holidays abroad in the sun, the camping trips, the snuggling on the sofa under a blanket, and of course those good times of long naked fun together were all vivid in Paul’s mind but fading fast. The relationship was beginning to be nothing but a past tense, slipping from his grasp, and he no longer had the strength to try and grab it back.
The slope increased one night when she went out drinking with her work colleagues. As a rule, she only drank a couple before switching to soft drinks, always enjoying the stupidity of others without fully indulging herself. But that night, she and Paul had fought when once again she had found out she was not pregnant, so she drank like she had never drunk before.
Paul had suggested they not put so much emphasis on the outcome, but rather enjoy the physical act. Christina took offence to this, seeing it as him not wanting commitment. Not wanting a woman, but instead only wanting a whore.
“So producing a human being into this world is not important!” Christina had spat, fully enraged.
“That is not what I meant,” a dejected Paul had responded calmly.
“What is the point in it all!” she had said, grabbing her handbag and storming out of their house.
It was past 6:00 a.m. when she had returned looking sad and confused with a hangover and a truckload of regrets dragging behind her.
Paul had been sent a number of text messages from her work colleagues, saying how drunk and out of control she was. That was bad enough, but then he saw pictures of her and an unknown male kissing and cuddling, and his world finally fell apart. The pictures of her semi-naked and holding parts of this guy she shouldn’t be going anywhere near proved to be the final nail. There was to be no going back from there.
Paul struggled with the breakup. The fighting seemed almost to be forgotten as his emotions swung between nostalgic romance and the slutty betrayal of that night.
He kicked her out and moved in with his friend Will, who was in a similar position, while his house was sold. He couldn’t live there with all the memories attached to the house, and especially not when she would turn up in floods of tears, begging him to take her back. The temptation was strong. He knew her, and she knew him. That one big puzzle piece, now leaving the hole in his past, could be returned in a heartbeat, but really was that the right thing to do? To fall back into the arguments again like it was the perfect rhythm of their life?
It hurt so bad emotionally and physically, he lost weight and at times felt sorry for himself, indulging in marathons of romantic comedies and trying to fantasise about a woman that didn’t suddenly morph back into Christina. At times, he was an embarrassment to not just his friends but to men in general. His friend Will was there when he was weak, like a sponsor for an alcoholic, reminding him of what had happened. Will himself was only just getting over the fact that his wife had cheated on him, and worse still had moved away with his daughter. To find that your wife no longer loves you is one thing, but to then up and leave, moving two hours away with the most precious thing in the world to you was true heartache. Paul could see this, but he still had those bouts of depression.
And then he took that bus journey, and metaphorically, that bus drove him away from his old life—his destination a whole lot more fulfilling.
Debbie had come into contact with Christina when she had found her sat outside the house they were renting.
“Home-wrecker!” she had shouted as Debbie had swiftly got into her car. “I’m pregnant!” Christina screamed through the window.
The following weeks were hard, with Debbie receiving a copy of the twelve-week baby scan by email and pleading for Paul not to split up their family. It was deep into the second trimester that the truth had come out.
There was no baby. There had never been a baby. The whole thing was a great big hoax and a final desperate attempt to get Paul back.
Or at least, that was what they had thought.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Nineteen
“S usie? Where is your teddy?” she said and smiled, reaching over her into the car. Christina suddenly felt almost hysterically happy. She knew part of this was the Xanax anti-depressant pills she had just taken, and the other part was the anticipation of seeing Paul again. What would he say when she turned up there with Susie, asking him to take her back? The look on that bitch Debbie’s face would be priceless when her Paul realised what an incredibly silly man he had been! You heard about it all the time, didn’t you? A husband ran off with another woman, looking for excitement and adventure, only to discover that what he really wanted was right under his nose all along! There were hundreds of movies with this exact storyline, so this was just another example of how crazy love can be!
Christina and Paul. No, Christina, Paul, and Susie of course! She couldn’t wait to see her daddy. Christina smiled to herself and thought about Paul tucking Susie into her bed, reading her a nighttime story before singing something to her, maybe The Beach Boys song “Little Deuce Coupe” like Tom Cruise in the War Of The Worlds remake, or John Travolta in that talking baby movie. He will be such a great daddy! Daddy of the year! Ha ha!
She skipped back into the house and grabbed another bag. She had packed all of her best clothes, including the new underwear that she knew he’d like.
There was a sudden thud as something fell onto the floor. She grinned as she bent to pick it up.
It was her father’s gun. His Peacemaker, he said. That seemed like an oxymoron to her. What is it that those police shows always say? Don’t point a gun unless you are willing to pull the trigger, or some such line. She pointed it at the mirror and winked. “Bang!” She pretended to shoot her reflection by faking the recoil of the gun.
“Susie! Mummy’s coming!” She jogged to the car and popped in her Top Gun soundtrack. It was perfect for a road trip, although in years to come, Susie would no doubt want some manufactured boy-band crooning away about broken hearts.
“Everything okay, Susie?” She smiled into the mirror, but Susie remained silent once again. Susie had always been easy to manage.
They pulled out of the street and headed out towards Swindon’s famous Magic Roundabout while Kenny Loggins sang loudly about the danger zone. That was a place she knew all too well.
Soon the family would be reunited.
Everything would be perfect.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Twenty
T he man shook his head. This was not good.
He saw them leave the house in a hurry as soon as the van pulled up. They were snooping around. Trespassing on a property that was not their own. A primitive
, if not unexpected, act of man’s search-and-explore mentality.
Their predictable response to company quickly went off track and surprised him by not running off into the cover of the thick trees and bushes but hiding out behind the stone wall, watching as the van stopped and the men got out. There was a braveness to these two that could well work in their favour when quick decisions needed to be made in the face of danger, and more importantly, for survival. Sometimes you just couldn’t tell.
Too many people had died because of what they had seen in this house. It was incredibly intriguing to witness just how many people were drawn to it. But of course, these people were unable to tell about what they had seen. When overwhelmed with truths and puzzles impossible for their brains to comprehend, they unconsciously turned submissive, giving up any fight, and with it their lives.
These two hadn’t been in the house long enough to have discovered its little secret though…had they? He was sure if they had, then they would not have been waiting for anything but would’ve ran back to their log cabin, never to return.
He knew he had to do something drastic. He was the town’s only hope before it imploded, taking every single one of them with it.
There was an underlining excitement for him, knowing all the people living in the town were blissfully unaware they were on a precipice, and only he had any influence on which way it would go. Even then there were no guarantees he would be successful, but he was going to give it his best shot.
It had all started that night. Why was it always at night? If you think it through, it could only be planned that way—but of course, he didn’t know such things.
Perhaps there was something in that house that drew things to it. It had a magnetic negative energy attracting all around to come and take a look, open Pandora’s Box.
He was fascinated with what he saw, and part of him was relieved. This may be exactly what he wanted. Some would say it was a sign from God or perhaps a gift, although he did not believe in God. To him, there was something much higher and more fantastical.
