David looked at his parent’s. “I wish I could come with you, but I have to go back.”
His mother reached out and touched David’s face. “I know you have to go, but we will be together again one day. Always remember how much we love you.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” David sobbed.
“We will always be with you,” his father said as they began to fade.
“Wait, come back. Please don’t go.”
The man stepped forward. “I’m sorry, David, but time is precious and you must go.”
“Please, just a few more minutes with my family.”
“I have given you what you asked for. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” David said, resigned to his fate.
The man reached out and tenderly touched the side of David’s face. Then he bowed his head, and the light dimmed as he walked away.
Again, there was darkness.
***
David opened his eyes. He was lying on a hard damp surface and was aware of a terrible smell, a mixture of damp air and stagnant water. He wasn’t entirely certain where he was, but darkness surrounded him. Lying there, he began to make out shapes he didn’t recognize and realized he could see perfectly well. He could sense the cavernous space around him, but had no perception of time. He began to feel claustrophobic despite his surroundings. He could hear water trickling close by and remembered talk of an underground stream running through the village.
Memories came flooding back into his mind as he recalled the villagers attacking him and throwing him down the well, the searing pain, then the falling sensation.
He sat up slowly and inspected himself with his hands. He reached up and felt his face and head, but there was no pain. Had he been dreaming? Or maybe he’d drunk too much ale and had fallen down the old well? He was surprised to find his clothes hadn’t been damaged in the fall and looked down at his familiar pale blue shirt and brown waistcoat. His trousers were a little dirty, but nothing that couldn’t be sorted by washing them in the stream.
A strange noise caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end. The thought of rats bothered him more than anything. He hated rats. As well as trickling water, he could clearly hear something else, a wheezing sound, like somebody struggling to breathe. As he turned around, he jumped back with fright. Sitting just behind him, with her head bowed, was a little girl with long filthy blonde hair. He recognized the dirty white dress, the strand of pearls around her neck, the ankle socks and black leather shoes.
“Maisie! Oh, my God, how did you get down here? Are you hurt?”
There was no answer.
“Maisie? Can you hear me?”
Silence.
“Maisie, talk to me please. It’s me, David. Do you remember me?”
She slowly lifted her head and sniffed at the air.
The straggly blonde hair had fallen into her face, but he was relieved to see the familiar smile again.
“Thank the Lord you’re safe. I was so worried about you.”
She didn’t answer and turned slightly away from his view.
David found it strange that Maisie was not responding to him and approached her cautiously, not wanting to frighten her. He didn’t know what she had been through. Moving slowly, he saw the smile disappear from her face. He knelt down and reached out, gently wiping her hair away.
She backed away from his touch as though he had burnt her.
Sensing Maisie’s distress, he quickly moved away.
She sniffed the air and moved in closer to him. The sniffing unnerved him.
“Maisie, how long you have been down here?”
She turned her head slightly towards him and he noticed the angelic smile had returned.
“It’s okay, Maisie. I promise I won’t harm you. I’m going to look after you,” he said gently, as he knelt down again.
She sniffed the air once again and turned to face him.
He recoiled, and threw himself backwards, horrified by the sight before him. He scrambled backwards until he hit the wall.
Maisie began to giggle.
David’s piercing screams filled the cavernous space.
Chapter 1
Present Day
Ten a.m. on a freezing cold Monday morning and Sandra Miller sat at the oblong boardroom table in the News Group UK building.
Her boss, Rachel Lang, twittered unprofessionally about the latest pretty boy she had managed to snare. Sandra was bored to tears and knew, despite the vacuous smiles, the rest of the team felt the same.
She squinted as the blinding winter sun peeped out from behind a cloud and shone through the windows. A headache began to form right behind her eyes, and she deeply regretted the two bottles of red wine from last night.
She hadn’t planned to drink on a work night, but the first glass tasted so good and it was all downhill from there.
The realization Nathan would still be fast asleep in his big comfortable bed dawned on her. What an absolute bastard, she thought to herself.
“Earth calling Sandra,” Rachel said in her high-pitched Cruella de Vil-like voice banging her hand on the table at the same time. “Are you with us today, lovely?”
Sandra returned to the room with a start.
“Sorry, Rachel, Nathan and I had a heavy night last night and my head is banging like a shit house door in a gale,” she replied, putting her head in her hands and moaning.
Sandra looked across the table as two of her bitchy colleagues rolled their eyes.
Dealing with Rachel first thing in the morning wasn’t Sandra’s idea of fun. It wouldn’t be so bad if she was even remotely likeable, but Sandra hated everything about her boss, from her bleached blonde crop to the hideous acrylic claw-like nails painted pillar box red.
“Well, I’d like to be able to tell you that you can go home and sleep it off, but I’m not going to. Self-inflicted and all that. But what I’ve got to tell you is right up your alley, believe me. So sit up, shut up, and pay attention, I’ve got a busy day ahead.”
A collective laugh went out around the room as Sandra sat upright in her chair. She smiled at her boss, thinking how much she would love to shove her out of the window and watch her fat face meet the pavement.
“Well, now we all have your attention,” she said, staring at Sandra, before turning to address the room. “I have disturbing news for you. But before I crack on, whatever I tell you is not to leave this room.”
The bitchy colleagues sat forward in their chairs.
She raised her podgy finger to her blood red lips. “Agreed?”
They all nodded their heads.
“It’s quite frightful from what Dean told me this morning over breakfast, but bad news is good news as far as I’m concerned.” Most of the people in attendance hated her theatrics, but played along nodding and smiling as usual.
“Right, okay,” she said, taking a big breath. “Last night, a twelve-year-old boy was killed in the gardens of the old Gallagher house on… Promised Land Lane.”
Rachel paused, clearly happy in the knowledge that what she had said would have maximum impact on the people sat around the table, and on one person in particular.
Their gasps brought a smile to Rachel’s face and she clasped her hands together as they began to talk amongst themselves in hushed voices. Sandra sat deathly quiet, unable to talk as the words began to ring in her ears. The throbbing behind her eyes matched her increasing heartbeat.
The entire boardroom stared at her whilst Rachel sat smiling and rubbing her hands together. She was clearly pleased that she’d hit her intended target.
Sandra had to will her feet to move. Feeling faint, she realized she wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom at the very moment she bent over and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the marble floor.
“Oh really, Sandra. Do you know how much it costs to have these floors polished?” Rachel scolded her like a naughty child.
Shaking her head in answer to Rachel’s question, Sandra wiped her
mouth, feeling her face flush, mortified to have vomited in front of her colleagues.
“Actually, lovely,” Rachel said, with a look of disgust on her face, “I think you should take yourself off home after all, and I’ll call you later.”
***
Twenty four hours earlier.
Jason Lee checked his reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror and smiled. He looked older than his fifteen years. At almost six feet tall, he had an athletic build, stylish dark brown hair, brown eyes, and chiselled good looks even if he did say so himself. As one of the most popular boys in his school, he had a certain image to maintain.
He grabbed his school bag from just inside his bedroom door and sauntered down the stairs.
“Don’t sneak off without your breakfast again,” his mum, Jeanette, called out to him from the kitchen.
He shoved the kitchen door open. “Not hungry,” he said, gruffly.
“I don’t care. You can get a piece of toast down you, or else.”
He knew not to argue with his mum. She’d think nothing of giving him a backhander. She loved him and his twelve-year old twin brothers, of that he was certain, but she had a unique style of parenting. Some would say she was a bad mother, but that was far from the truth. She worshipped her boys and protected them like a lioness protecting her cubs, but gave them a long enough leash so they could grow up and learn to fend for themselves. They were her entire world, and she didn’t need to smother them with kisses and cuddles for them to know that.
Jason threw his bag under the table and took a seat, waiting for her to make the toast.
“And less of the attitude, gobshite. I’m tired of telling you that if you don’t shake off that superior attitude and smart mouth of yours, you’ll end up in all kinds of trouble.”
“What! I haven’t said anything yet.”
“Keep it that way.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head, knowing when to keep his mouth shut where she was concerned. Her temper was well known around town, and people knew if they crossed her, or one of her own, they’d regret it.
Jason’s dad had run off with his mum’s best friend seven years ago. The betrayal devastated them all, and was a constant source of anger for Jason. He never wanted to set eyes on his father again, and told him so every time he phoned the house asking to see him and his brothers. He himself had become a father at the age of thirteen. If he was allowed access, he’d definitely be a better father than his own pathetic waste of space.
Munching down on the toast he was enjoying after all, he watched his mum busily preparing a cooked breakfast for Adam and Ashley. They didn’t have much, but she always made sure her boys were well fed and had clean clothes. The council house they called home was rundown and tired looking, but you could eat your dinner off the well-worn kitchen lino.
His mum called the twins as she placed two plates on the table.
Jason wiped his mouth and jumped up, not wanting to be lumbered with walking the twins to school. They idolized him, which was nice, but it got a little tiring sometimes.
“Hang on,” his mum said. “Here’s twenty quid. Get something for dinner for you and the twins and make sure you’re all home for six-thirty at the latest.”
Jason grunted at her in agreement, even though he had no intention of being home so early.
He knew as long as he was home by eleven she’d be none the wiser.
He left the house as the twins trudged down the stairs.
At school, he headed to the back of the gym block where he and all his cronies always met. He lit a cigarette and sat on the concrete path, his back against the building, and waited for them.
He hid the cigarette behind his back as he heard footsteps approaching.
Matthew Briggs, and a few other lads Jason didn’t know, walked around the corner. Matthew nodded to Jason, and walked past, stopping a few feet away where they all lit up.
Jason didn’t really like Matthew. He thought he was a dickhead, but the truth be told, he was a little jealous of him. Matthew was good-looking and excelled in sports, so in theory they should have been good friends, but there was too much competition between them and so any friendship was short-lived.
Tired of waiting, he finished his cigarette, flicked it into the privet hedge and got to his feet. His ears pricked up as he heard Matthew mention the house on Promised Land Lane.
There were only a handful of houses on Promised Land Lane, but Jason knew exactly which one he was talking about. Number six.
He’d heard many farfetched stories about the house being haunted, but the fact it hadn’t been lived in for many years added more mystery to the story. His sports coach had told him the stories were nothing but an urban legend started by the villagers in order to keep people away.
“So, it’s said that a woman called Samantha Whitmore was brutally murdered there,” Matthew continued, in a dramatic, whispery voice. “Her daughter vanished on the same day, but her body was never found.”
The five younger lads were all ears, and hanging off his every word.
“They blamed a local man, David Price, for their deaths, but people say he was wrongly accused. Strangely, he also went missing on the same night, never to be seen again. My mum told me that the place is now overrun with cats.”
Matthew received the reaction he was looking for as several gasps and murmurs ran through the group of lads.
“But that’s not all. Apparently, the death of his wife and disappearance of his daughter sent Mark Whitmore crazy. The very next night, he also disappeared.”
“So four people vanished and only the mother was found?” one of the guys asked.
Matthew nodded. “Yeah, and I’m not shitting you. Ask anyone. But the worst part is, some people have heard the sound of a child crying in the back garden, terrifying the villagers who believed it was the ghost of little Maisie Whitmore, crying as her soul hadn’t been laid to rest.”
More gasps. Jason smiled to himself and shook his head, imagining they’d all have nightmares tonight.
Another group of people approached, three guys and two girls.
Matthew continued, reveling in the attention. “For years, people who dared went to the house after hearing the story. Some of them were never heard from again, but that’s not the best part. Twenty years ago a group of kids from this school went there and one of the girls disappeared.”
“Then why did you go?” asked the smallest of the group.
“I wanted to see for myself. I wasn’t scared. But I did see the cats -- hundreds of them.”
Tired of listening to his crap, Jason lit another cigarette and stepped forwards. “I bet you didn’t look inside the doll’s house, did you, Matty?” he shouted.
“Err, I didn’t see it or I would have.”
“Yeah, of course you would. I reckon you’re talking bullshit. I bet you never even went near the place.”
“Fuck you, Jason,” he said defensively, his cage clearly rattled.
“You’d love to, you bell end. We’ll see who has the biggest balls, shall we?” Jason said. “Tonight, me, my brothers and anyone brave enough to come along, will go to the lane.”
The crowd turned and looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
“So, who’s up for it then?” he said, loving the audience he had amassed.
“I don’t need to go back again,” Matthew said. “Been there, done that and don’t need to prove anything to you, so have fun, Jase!”
“My name is Jason, you fucking knob jockey. J-A-S-O-N, remember it, or I’ll tattoo it on your fucking forehead!” he shouted as Matthew and several of his followers walked away.
There were still stragglers there, finishing their cigarettes, so Jason asked again if they were up for it, but they all shook their heads.
“Fucking pussies, the lot of ya!” he shouted, taking a final drag on his cigarette before throwing it on the floor and walking away.
Chapter 2
After school, Jaso
n hung around the school railings for the twins. When they appeared, he waved them over.
They looked like younger versions of their brother, but hadn’t yet found the cocky attitude to go with their increasingly good looks.
They both looked fit to burst and ran over to him.
“Is it true? Everyone’s talking about it,” Adam panted.
Jason pushed himself off the railing with his foot and headed in the direction of home. “We’re going to Promised Land Lane, unless you’re as scared as all the other pussies,” Jason taunted, knowing full well they wouldn’t risk looking like a coward in front of him.
“I’m not scared,” Adam said, falling into step beside him.
Jason turned to look at Ashley, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Neither am I.” Ashley shrugged, trying to appear unfazed.
They approached their rundown council house in the middle of an estate in Millfield. Jason shook his head like he did every day. He hated the estate and never told anybody where he lived.
They dropped off their bags and changed out of their school uniforms, throwing them in the laundry. Their mum would never allow them to go to school unless they had clean uniforms.
Jason picked up the money from under the fruit bowl on the table. Walking into the hallway, he stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, you two. Last one out’s a moron.”
As he knew they would, the twins appeared at the top of the stairs, pushing and shoving each other to get down first.
“Alright, you both win. You’re both morons.”
The twins laughed at him as they always did.
“Come on then. We have stuff to do,” Jason said, with excitement in his voice.
The twins clearly didn’t share his sense of excitement and trailed behind him.
“What do you fancy for dinner?” Jason wanted to take their minds off what they were planning to do.
“Sausage and chips,” Ashley said.
“Nah, you always choose,” Adam said. “I want to go to Lee Garden. What do you reckon, Jase?”
Promised Land Lane Page 2
