The Horror of Briarwych Church

by Amy Cross

  “Screw this,” I say finally, before turning and making my way back along the aisle. “I am so out of here.”

  ***

  Taking great care to not make any noise, I very gently shut the back door and then I wait for a moment. The cottage is dark and silent, and there's no sign that anyone is awake, so I reach down and slowly turn the key before heading across the kitchen and into the hallway.

  At least this place is warm. We must have been out for about an hour, which means it's a little after 3am. Climbing the stairs, I try to avoid making any sounds, although a couple of the steps creak beneath my feet. By the time I get to the landing, however, there's still no hint of movement coming from Mr. and Mrs. Neill's bedroom, so I guess they must have actually slept through everything.

  I step toward my room, before stopping as I realize I can hear Kerry sobbing nearby.

  I hesitate, telling myself that this is all a stupid game and that I shouldn't encourage her, but those sobs sound so real and finally I head over to her door. I listen to her sobs for a moment longer and then I gently tap on the door. She doesn't respond, but I really want to check that she's okay so I gently turn the handle and push the door open, only to find that the room is dark.

  Peering through, I see that Kerry is sitting on her bed with her arms around her knees. She's crying like I've never seen anyone cry before, and tears are absolutely streaming down her face.

  “Hey,” I whisper, before stepping into the room and then carefully shutting the door. “I just came to see if you're alright.”

  As I head over to the bed and then, I bump my feet against something on the floor. Looking down, I see the leather bag, so I pick it up and set it on the table. Then, figuring that I might as well stay for a few minutes, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for Kerry to say something. She's looking at me, but she seems absolutely horrified. If she's acting, she's damn good at it. Maybe she really is crazy? Like properly crazy.

  “Got your phone,” I say, holding it up to show her.

  She doesn't say anything, so I reach over and set it on the little stand next to her bed. Spotting her charging cable, I plug it in for her as well.

  “So what was that all about, huh?” I ask, keeping my voice low as I turn to her again. “You really freaked me out back there. Respect where it's due, you went all in.”

  Again I wait, and again she simply continues to weep while staring at me. She's shaking, too, which seems odd given that this whole cottage is nice and warm.

  “I get it,” I continue, “you like playing games, but I can I please ask you to -”

  “Did you really not see anything?” she whimpers suddenly, interrupting me.

  “Like what?”

  “Just tell me what you saw.”

  “I didn't see anything!”

  “You must have done!”

  “Can you give me an idea what I'm supposed to have seen?” I ask.

  “She was right there!” she snaps.

  “Keep your voice down,” I reply. I reach out and touch her arm, but she immediately pulls away as if she thinks I'm about to attack her. “Sorry,” I add, “I just... I swear, I didn't see anyone else in that church. You were talking and being weird, and then you kind of slumped down off the altar and landed on the floor. Then you bolted and left me there.”

  “I didn't talk!” she says. “I couldn't talk!”

  Sighing, I look over at the window as I try to get my thoughts together. Back in the church, I was sure this was all an act, but now I'm genuinely worried she might be sick in the head. I don't actually know her that well, but it never occurred to me until this moment that maybe she's got some kind of serious mental issue. Maybe she's unstable or something, or she's a fantasist. For the first time, I'm actually starting to feel sorry for her.

  “Never mind,” she says suddenly, and I turn to see that she's wiping tears from her eyes. “You don't believe me. No-one ever believes me about anything. You're just like all the rest.”

  “I'm just saying, I -”

  “Can you get out of my room now, please?”

  “Kerry -”

  “Can you get out?” she continues, starting to sound annoyed now. “Or do I have to scream and tell Mr. and Mrs. Neill that you came in and started being weird to me. They'll believe me, you know. I'll tell them you tried to -”

  “Forget it,” I say, getting to my feet and heading to the door, where I stop and turn to look back at her. “You've got problems, do you know that? Like, serious problems.”

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “If you really saw something in the church, then you need -”

  “I said, I don't want to talk about it! Can you shut the door as you leave, please?”

  “But if -”

  “Can you get out of my room, please, Mark?” she suddenly calls out loudly, clearly intending for Mr. and Mrs. Neill to hear. “Why are you sneaking in here in the middle of the night, anyway?”

  Realizing that she's never going to talk seriously, I step out onto the landing and pull the door gently shut. As I do so, however, I spot movement nearby, and I turn to see that Caroline Neill is watching me from the door that leads into the master bedroom.

  I open my mouth to apologize, but I know I've been caught red-handed.

  “Do I need to worry about anything?” she asks.

  I can hear her husband snoring in the darkness of the room.

  After a moment, I shake my head.

  “You should get back to bed now,” she continues. “Breakfast's at eight.”

  I nod.

  “Well go on, then,” she says. “No more creeping about at night, please. You weren't going to go outside, were you?”

  “No,” I reply, although in that moment I realize that we left the church door open, which means someone'll know people went inside. They'd be crazy not to suspect it was us. “Actually, we -”

  “Go to bed, Mark,” she says, cutting me off. “We can talk in the morning.”

  I nod, before heading to my room. Caroline is still watching me as I gently bump the door shut, and then I wait for a few seconds until I hear her door closing. I so badly want to go back through to Kerry and ask what's wrong with her, but I'm starting to think that she must have a major screw loose. I think maybe she really believes she saw a woman in the church tonight.

  Chapter Six

  Kerry

  I scream as she tilts my head back, and I feel her ice-cold fingers pressing against my throat as she leans closer to my face.

  “What do you want here?” she snarls.

  Too terrified to reply, I simply continue to shiver as I stare up into her sunken dead eyes. She's so pale, and the skin is clinging to the bones of her face. She looks like someone who just climbed out of a coffin.

  “Answer me!” she hisses, leaning even closer. “What are you doing in my church?”

  “Please,” I stammer, barely managing to get the words out, “leave me alone. I don't want to -”

  Suddenly she screams.

  Gasping, I suddenly sit up in bed and clutch my throat. For a few seconds, I can still feel those icy fingers, as if they somehow pierced my skin and slid deep into my neck. The sensation slowly fades, however, as I realize I must have just fallen asleep and had a bad dream. There's light outside now, beyond the closed curtains, and after a moment I hear voices talking outside as some people walk past the cottage.

  Checking my phone, I see that it's almost exactly 8am. A moment later, I realize I can smell eggs and bacon. And then, as I climb out of bed so I can go and have a shower, I spot that old leather bag on the table.

  ***

  “Just in time for a fry-up!” Caroline says with a smile as I stop in the kitchen doorway. “I was going to come up and knock for you, Kerry, but then I heard you in the shower. Do you want the works? Egg, bacon, sausages, beans, hash browns, tomato and mushroom?”

  I stare at the food that's cooking in various pots and pans. For a moment, I feel absolutely starving, b
ut then suddenly something lurches in the pit of my stomach and I have to look away. The thought of food makes me feel like I'm going to vomit.

  “We have other things if you're not a full English kind of girl,” Caroline continues, as I take deep breaths in an attempt to calm my stomach. “Help yourself to anything that's in the fridge. The cheese is from a local cheese-maker who lives just around the corner, and the jam and marmalade is all home-made.”

  “Great,” I mutter, although once again the thought of food makes me feel pretty weird.

  Heading over to the sink, I pour myself a glass of water. I can tell out the corner of my eye that Mark is watching me, and the last thing I want is to let him see that I feel weird. I swear, if he asks me one more time whether I'm okay, I'm gonna -

  “Are you okay?”

  I flinch, but I somehow manage to keep from turning and glaring at him.

  “I'm fine,” I reply through gritted teeth, before taking a drink. I thought some water would make me feel better, but instead the sensation of water running down into my stomach almost makes me retch. A moment later the sound of frying food seems to get louder, and I have to really focus to keep from heaving all over the sink.

  “I thought we could take a little walk around the village after breakfast,” Caroline continues. “I know that probably sounds pretty boring to you two city-dwellers, but I can show you where a few things are. Then I can maybe treat us all to some sandwiches at the pub.”

  “That'd be nice,” Mark says. “Thank you.”

  Why is he so polite all the time? Why doesn't he -

  Suddenly I feel a lurching sensation in my belly, as if I'm about to vomit. I grip the side of the sink, but fortunately the feeling passes pretty quickly. Something's definitely not right, though, and I'm starting to feel this weird sense of weakness that doesn't make any sense. At the same time, the sensation's strangely familiar, and there's some kind of dizziness creeping in as well. I guess I just need to get my head together and ignore that weird-ass dream I had last night, but -

  Suddenly an icy hand touches my arm.

  “What were you doing in my church?”

  Startled, I turn and see a figure standing right next to me. I have to blink a couple of times before I'm able to properly see the figure's face, and I realize that it's Caroline. Her hand still feels ice-cold, and after a moment I pull away from her grip.

  “Kerry?” she says cautiously. “Are you okay? You're looking a little peaky.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Your color's off. You look pale.”

  “I told you, I'm fine.”

  “How's your temperature?”

  She reaches up to touch my forehead with the back of her hand, but I pull away.

  “Please stop fussing,” I say, trying to smile so that she can see I'm fine. “I'm always like this in the mornings. I'm a really slow-riser. I can't even remember the last time I was up before midday.”

  I glance at Mark and see that he's staring at me with that same gormless expression that he's always got.

  “Haven't you got anything better to do?” I ask. “You're being weird again.”

  He looks back down at his cup of tea.

  “Don't push yourself too hard, okay?” Caroline says as she heads back over to the cooker and starts dishing up breakfast. “Don't underestimate the stresses involved with a big move. I know Briarwych must seem like a sleepy little place, but it's going to be a real culture shock for you guys. You'll get used to it eventually, but in the meantime -”

  “Why would I get used to it?” I ask. “I'm only staying for a month.”

  “Well, that's the initial trial period but -”

  “A month and that's it,” I add. “I don't do countryside and rural. As soon as I hit sixteen, I'm going off on my own and people like Maxine Trevor can kiss my ass.”

  “That's your choice,” Caroline says, carefully setting some fried eggs onto the plates. “Maybe you'll change your mind.”

  “Yeah, I don't think I -”

  Suddenly I feel a twisting pain low down in my belly, and I actually almost gag a little. Leaning back against the counter, I realize there are pinpricks of cold sweat spreading across my forehead, and my throat feels very dry as I swallow. For a moment I can't remember when I felt like this before, but then I think back to last night in the church. Is that when I felt it? When that woman touched my face and started asking all those questions? I tried to tell myself this morning that she wasn't real, that I was just tripping out on cow-shit-filled country air, but I swear that bitch's face is burned into my retinas.

  I can almost see her right now, everywhere I look.

  “Kerry?”

  Turning, I see that Mark's staring at me again.

  “You look white as a sheet,” he adds.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “Language, please,” Caroline says, glancing at me. “Sorry, but this is a no-swearing household.”

  “Go screw yourself, then,” I tell Mark.

  “And let's try to keep it civil,” Caroline adds.

  “He started it.”

  At the same time, I reach back and grip the side of the counter. My knees are trembling now and I'm worried I might collapse. I just need to get some strength back and go back upstairs, and wait things out in my room. I can stay in there all morning and pretend I'm just being a moody little bitch. The problem, though, is that right now I'm not sure I'd make it all the way over to the bottom of the stairs, let alone up to the landing and then into my room. If I faint, I'm going to end up looking like a total asshole. Everyone would laugh at me forever.

  “Will you stop staring at me?” I snap at Mark.

  “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away as Caroline sets a plate down in front of him.

  She's looking at me, too. I can tell she's worried.

  I turn away, but I can feel them still looking at me. They're both staring, and it's as if their gazes are drilling into the side of my face, burning through my flesh. I try to ignore them both, but finally I feel like I have to say something, so I turn to them.

  “Can you both just -”

  I freeze as I see that they're not looking at me. Caroline is at the cooker, and Mark's reading something on his phone. I swear I felt them staring, but I guess maybe I'm just getting a little jumpy. The countryside's really getting to me.

  “I think I'm just going to go up to my room,” I tell Caroline, as my head starts to feel really heavy. I can barely even keep it from drooping, and I think I'm starting to properly sweat. “I want to be alone for a while. I might go back to sleep for a few hours.”

  “That's okay,” she replies, turning to me before tilting her head slightly. “You shouldn't have come into my church.”

  “What?” I stammer, and now as I stare at her I swear I can't actually see her face. Like, I know she has a face, I'm looking right at it, but somehow I can't get my eyes to see the details.

  And that voice didn't sound like her at all.

  “You intruded,” the voice says after a moment. I'm staring at Caroline, but I can't tell whether or not her mouth is moving. “You desecrated my church. For that, you must pay.”

  I try to ask what she means, but I don't quite want to give away the fact that I'm feeling weird. At the same time, I'm getting weaker and weaker, as if all the strength is just draining out of my body. And then, suddenly, I realize where I've felt this feeling before.

  In the alley, when I was dying.

  This is exactly how I felt that night. The doctors said I was so close to death, that it was a miracle the ambulance got to me in time, that another minute would have been too long. I felt exactly like this, and now I can feel a sense of panic rising through my chest as I look around the kitchen. I can see and not see at the same time. There are shapes, but I can't quite make them turn into actual things that I recognize. I can just about tell that Mark's still at the table, and that Caroline's over by the cooker, or is that Caroline in the doorway? Wait, there's someone else he
re, a figure wearing dark clothes standing in the doorway and staring at me. I turn to her, but I can't properly see her.

  I want this feeling to go away right now. This is exactly how it was, just before the ambulance crew got to me, when I was seconds from dying.

  “Um,” I manage to say finally, as I start shivering violently, “I think I...”

  I pause, and then suddenly everything goes black and I feel myself slump down to the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  Mark

  “Kerry!”

  Racing from the chair, I drop to my knees just a few seconds too late to catch her. She drops like a stone, banging her head against the side of the counter and then flopping onto her side like some kind of rag doll.

  “Kerry!” I shout again, reaching out and touching the side of her face, and finding that her skin is like ice. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Get out of the way,” Caroline says, kneeling next to me and pushing my shoulder. “Mark, I'm trained for this kind of thing. Just give us some space.”

  “Is she okay?” I ask.

  Instead of replying, Caroline reaches down and gently nudges Kerry's arm.

  “Kerry?” she says cautiously. “Can you hear me?”

  “Why's she sweating so much?” I ask. “She looked really sick from the moment she came down this morning. I could tell something was wrong with her!”

  Caroline leans over her and presses two fingers against the side of her neck. She must be searching for a pulse. After a moment, she mutters something under her breath and grabs Kerry's left wrist, where she checks again. As I wait for her to say that Kerry's okay, each second seems to last an eternity.

  “Is her heart beating?” I stammer finally. “Tell me she's going to be okay!”

  I wait, but she's too busy checking Kerry's other wrist, and I can tell from the look on her face that something's seriously wrong. It's almost as if she can't find a pulse at all.