“No don’t!” Mackenzie barked. “He wants you!”
“If he’s there Mackenzie, all he’s getting from me is my fist in his face. I’ll close the door behind me. Relax and have a cigarette ‘til I come back.”
Maurice stood up and walked out of the bedroom closing the door behind him. He could hear Mackenzie whimpering behind the door.
The landing up here was narrow and at the far end was a second bedroom. Maurice walked toward it and opened the door. It creaked and stuck at the bottom but a firm push helped it open properly. Maurice stepped into the room and saw directly in the middle of the room, an old wooden chair. It was empty as was the rest of the room.
Obviously, Mackenzie and Angela had not found a use for it yet and it was still as it had been since before they moved in. He walked to the centre of the room and over to the window. It looked out across the front of the house toward the bridge and their own cottage over the river. Maurice spent a moment admiring the view and feeling pleased with his cottage and his choice. It was more picturesque from up here even than from the ground. He decided he needed to do some more work on the rose arbour this summer to make the entrance through the gate more homely.
Confident he’d seen all he needed to see, he turned and left the room, pulling the awkward door closed behind him. He returned to Mackenzie in the bedroom.
“Well, it needs a good clean in there but apart from a chair, I never saw any old man.” Maurice told Mackenzie.
“Don’t mess with my brain man. I know he’s there I saw him.” Mackenzie said.
“Listen. I think you need to see a doctor Mackenzie. I know you said no to Angela but it will help. Honestly. You’ve had a rough time and need help. Please.” Maurice said.
“No! No doctors, no quacks and I don’t want Angie back here either. I’m not crazy man. That old dude is there and this whole shit gets bigger and stronger. I need sleep. Yeah, I’m going to sleep. When I wake up it’ll all be over right?” Mackenzie said.
“Sleep sounds like a good plan Mackenzie. Get some rest for now. I’ll come back over later and see how you are, okay?” Maurice said.
“Yeah sleep now. That’s a good plan.” Mackenzie said and before Maurice could say anything more, he was already snoring. Maurice quietly slipped out of the bedroom closing the door behind him. He stood quietly on the landing and gave a deep sigh. As he did he noticed the faint whiff of the burning embers he’d smelled before. He turned to look at the other bedroom door and saw it was slightly ajar. Maurice tiptoed toward it not wanting to wake Mackenzie. He gave the door a gentle jolt to open it and looked again inside. Again it was as empty as the first time he’d looked. The solitary chair sat in the middle. He closed the door firmly behind him and made his way down the stairs.
Crossing the bridge and arriving back at his home Maurice noticed the camper van was gone. He walked into the kitchen where Sarah was sat waiting for him.
“Angela has left. She’s gone to stay at her uncle’s until Mackenzie sorts himself out. Can’t say I agree with her running away from her man but at the same time, she told me he’s going nuts over there. Maybe it's best she leaves?” Sarah said.
“No she’s probably right poor kid. She’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer to start with and this stuff is way more than she can handle poor lass. He has totally lost the plot over there. He needs a doctor. He says no but he really needs a doctor.” Maurice said sinking into an armchair.
“We can’t leave him up there on his own Maurice.” Sarah said.
“No of course not. I’ll go and check on him later tonight. Maybe take a plate of dinner over for him.” Maurice replied.
“Before you get settled, I’d like you to read this. Angela told me about the nonsense he’d been rambling and it twigged something from when we bought this place. Remember how we’d started looking into the history and got bogged down with work?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, well we know the cottages are hundreds of years old, I know. That was one of the attractions for us wasn’t it? Old? Interesting? Character? Wasn’t that ticking all the boxes we wanted?”
“Yes of course all of that. But I mean on a more detailed level. There were a couple of very interesting deaths here. Very interesting. I’m just wondering if maybe Mackenzie had read something about them too and it had stuck in his head.” Sarah said.
“Seriously Sarah? These cottages must have seen hundreds of deaths over the years. But yeah maybe Mackenzie picked up on one of the scarier stories at the pub somewhere and he thinks he’s in a haunted house now.” Maurice replied.
“Maurice, shut up and listen. The cottage we are living in now belonged to the Silverston Family and had done forever it seems. Four hundred years ago, wait for it, Maurice and Sarah Silverston had a daughter, Rachel.” Sarah said as she read from her laptop.
“What a coincidence. Just a coincidence and we don’t have a daughter. Or a cat. If we get a cat we shall call it Rachel okay?”
“Maurice your mouth is doing that moving thing again while I’m talking. Shut up and pay attention.” Sarah snapped.
“The cottage across the river was owned at the time by a man named Mathew Morgan. He had won the cottage in a wager. He was a drunk and a scoundrel who spent what little he had at the local tavern. That tavern is called the Pyre Inn now. As you know. What you don’t know though, is why it is called the Pyre Inn.” Sarah said.
“No I don’t suppose I do. Probably where they did cremations or something. No I don’t know. Do go on and do tell me when this gets relevant to our problem across the river dear.” Maurice replied.
“The tavern owner was the father of Maurice Silverton and obviously the grandfather of Rachel. One night, Rachel went missing. The village all went out from the tavern searching for her. All they found was a shoe. They found it on the other side of the bridge heading to Mathew Morgan’s cottage. They burned down the cottage with Mathew Morgan still in it. Rachel was never found.” Sarah continued.
“So they made themselves judge, jury and executioner with no more evidence than a shoe? Took a man’s life because they thought he had killed the girl? Glad we’ve moved on a bit since then. But yeah I see why you think Mackenzie might have got a hold of this stuff and filled his head with it. He’s living in the dead man’s pyre. I think that might send me round the twist too if I popped all the pills he did.” Maurice said as he poured himself a glass of wine.
“Tonight, Maurice, is four hundred years since it happened. Can you imagine? Four hundred years?” Sarah blurted out as she read the date on the laptop. “April 13th 1616. How coincidental is that?”
“You would think they’d be having some sort of party in the pub then right? But I get it. Someone has filled his head with all this nonsense and we are going to have to clean up the mess. I’ll go round after dinner and take him a plateful. I hope he isn’t one of those weird Vegan types. I’ll talk to him. Find out who put the frighteners on him okay?” Maurice said.
“Yes. The sooner we can get him out of that room the sooner Angela can come back and take care of him. You can’t be babysitting a grown man all the time. You have work to do, I’ll get dinner started.” Sarah said as she passed the laptop to Maurice to peruse the pages she had found.
Maurice browsed through the pages Sarah had found. Wandering down back alleys and cul de sacs as one does when browsing the internet. Sarah had been busy he noted and there was a surprising amount of information about both the area and the event. The tavern had been renamed the Pyre to remind everyone of that fateful night, four hundred years ago.
Sarah had cooked a large steak and potato pie. With Yorkshire puddings and vegetables as well as roast potatoes she had made enough for six. There would be more than enough to send over to Mackenzie. They ate almost in silence as Maurice scrolled through the pages on the laptop. Sarah watched him as she toyed with her wine glass. She had to wonder at how, after all this time living in peaceful solitude, their universe could be so rudely interrupted by this madness.
Maurice emptied the last of the bottle into both their glasses and looked up from the screen.
“Yes, that was a most evil night they went through back then. I get the feeling an innocent man died that night and it seems a child did too. But I don’t see this helping Mackenzie. I’ll get over there as soon as you plate him a dinner up Sarah."
The sun had already set as Maurice carried the still warm plate of dinner and a couple of bottles of wine over the bridge to Mackenzie. The front door was unlocked and he made his way upstairs to the bedroom. Tonight, the smell of burning wood was stronger than ever.
Chapter Four
Maurice entered the bedroom to find Mackenzie huddled at the top of the bed, the duvet clasped tightly to his chest and up to his face.
“It’s okay Mackenzie it’s just me. Sarah sent you some dinner over. You must be starving. I got wine too and a corkscrew.” Maurice said. He reached over to a small dresser where two of the glasses Sarah had sent over previously were sitting. He uncorked a bottle and poured two glasses.
“Come on man, eat it while it’s hot, aye?” Maurice cajoled.
Mackenzie dropped his gaze to the plate of steak and potato pie and for a moment his contorted face relaxed. He picked up a big forkful of the food and crammed it in his mouth.
Maurice passed him a glass of wine and he gulped it down thirstily.
“Hey relax, take your time or you’ll make yourself sick.” Maurice said.
“It’s coming Maurice. Coming tonight. I know it. You need to get the hell out of here.” Mackenzie said as he continued to shovel the dinner into his mouth.
“Who’s coming? You mean that guy in the other room? He isn’t there Mackenzie. You were at the pub before you got sick. Someone told you this crazy story for a joke. It isn’t real Mackenzie. Eat your food. Nobody is coming. We just want you well again.” Maurice said.
“Pub? I’ve never been in the pub.” Mackenzie said looking quizzically at Maurice. “I haven’t even spoken to anyone around here since we arrived. Country folk. Don’t know shit about the real world do they? So I try to ignore them.”
“So you’ve never sat in the Pyre since you arrived? Crikey, that’s the first place I go to check a place out. If the pub is crap I don’t hang around for long.” Maurice said. “You must have been in once surely?”
“Nope, never once. No money and no time when we first got here, and as I said, I’m not big on country bumpkin conversations.” Mackenzie said still cramming food down.
“Oh! Well I wasn’t expecting that. So how did you hear the story of the cottage then?” Maurice asked.
“What story? What are you talking about Maurice? Listen, thanks for the food I appreciate it, but you really need to get the fuck out of here. I’m not joking man.” Mackenzie snapped. He scooped the last of the dinner from the plate and placed the plate on top of the bedside cabinet.
“You think I’m crazy right? You won’t leave because you think I’m crazy okay? Well, I died once. I’m ready to die again. I’m just not sure you are Maurice. Follow me.” Mackenzie said climbing from the bed.
Mackenzie pulled open the bedroom door and stepped into the landing followed closely by Maurice. Maurice looked toward the room at the end of the landing. The door was open. Sat on a chair in the centre of the room was an old unkempt man. His clothes were almost rags. His face was gnarled and pockmarked. He stared straight at Maurice.
“You saved him. You can save me.” The man said.
“See? Tell me you see him.” Mackenzie growled behind Maurice.
“Yes, I see him. I don’t believe I see him but I’m looking at him.” Maurice replied.
“I don’t think either of us can leave now Maurice. Sorry man, I just wish you’d listened when I told you to run. I think we’re both going to die tonight.” Mackenzie said.
“Oh no. He can save us all. He saved you young fella. Now he needs to save me. If he saves me, he saves you too. Look out that window there young ‘un. They is coming for all of us tonight.” The old man snarled.
Maurice walked into the room where the old man was sitting and peered through the window. From over the bridge he could see what should have been his own cottage. Moving around his cottage he could see figures running backward and forward heading toward the bridge.
“Oh fuck no, Sarah is in there” He gasped. He turned to the old man.
“You are Mathew Morgan, am I right?”
“Ah you’re a clever one you are. Coming to kill me they are. Coming for their precious little girl. Won’t do 'em no good killing me. Won’t get 'em their little girl back will it?” The old man snarled. “It’s looking like we’re all going to burn forever. Looks like you don’t have the look of a man can stop that no. You look like a pair of pretty dandies. You’ll die with me then.” He laughed through broken and rotten teeth.
Maurice wasn’t listening, he was watching. He could see a group gathered on the far side of the river. They were gesturing at this cottage and waving the torches. Maurice guessed they had just found the shoe. They would be headed here next to burn it down.
“Mackenzie come here and look. We need to get downstairs fast.” Maurice said.
“Look at what?” Mackenzie said edging past the old man to where Maurice stood by the window.
“Where did they all come from?”
“From the tavern and our cottage. They are coming here looking for their daughter and to burn this place to the ground with Mister Morgan here in it. Move your backside. We need to get down stairs and stop them.” Maurice said.
He pushed past Mackenzie and headed for the stairs. “Move it!”
The stairs were worn and broken. Parts were missing and they had to jump to reach the one below as they descended into the large single room below. No fancy cooking range. Just a dirty single room with straw scattered around the corners. A couple of plain wooden benches sat in the middle of the room. Maurice noted that it wouldn’t take much of a fire to burn this whole place to the ground.
Then he saw her. In the far corner of the room illuminated by a thin sliver of moonlight that dappled her naked foot. Maurice rushed over to her.
“Over here Mackenzie. It’s the girl, it’s Rachel. He did fucking kill her. The evil bastard.”
As he stood over her he could see she had been brutally attacked. Her hair matted with blood and her body broken. He reached gently down to her and shook her shoulder. “Rachel? Rachel?” There was no response. The young girl lay still in the piled up straw.
“Is she dead?” Mackenzie asked.
“I don’t know. But if we don’t get her out of here we will all be dead. Just watch the door for the mob and give me a minute.” Maurice said.
He eased the girl flat on her back and tilted her head back. Opening her mouth he began to breathe into it, calling her name between each breath.
“They’re over the bridge Maurice. Lots of 'em. They’ve all got big torches. They look pretty angry too.” Mackenzie said staring through the front door.
“Breathe, dammit Rachel, breathe!” hissed Maurice as he leaned forward to breathe into her mouth again. Rachel gulped and gasped. Then she groaned slowly opening her eyes.
“Who are you? What are you doing?” She said, her face a mask of confusion.
“Saving you from Mathew Morgan, Rachel. Come on we need to get you to your mother.” Maurice said as he scooped her into his arms.
“Okay Mackenzie lead on and head for the bridge. We need to find her mother, Sarah.” Maurice said.
“Sarah?” Mackenzie replied with a bewildered look.
“Yes Sarah. Rachel’s mother. Get going.”
Carrying the girl they staggered out into the front of the cottage and headed toward the bridge to meet the oncoming crowd.
“She’s here! She’s alive! She needs her mother!” Maurice shouted at the crowd.
The mob quickly formed around them keeping at arms distance but Mackenzie could feel the menace in the air.
“They think we did this shi
t man. We are in some really deep poo now!” Mackenzie said.
“Rachel, you need to speak dear. Tell them who did this to you.” Maurice said quietly to the girl in his arms.
A woman stepped forward. She was in her mid-thirties and quite beautiful thought Maurice. So beautiful she could be Sarah’s twin.
“What the hell have you done to my daughter you sick bastard. You will hang for this!” The woman snarled.
Mackenzie stepped forward. “Done? What have we done? This man here just saved your daughter lady! Done? The man’s a fucking hero. He seems very good at saving people’s lives. So just back off, all of you! Fucking done?” He turned to Maurice. “I told you I hated these local country bumpkin types. Looks like these medieval ones are worse than ours.”
Maurice passed the girl carefully over to her mother.
“Rachel my dear, whatever have they done to you?” The woman sobbed over the girl.
Rachel looked up at her mother and wrapped her arms around her neck. “Not these men Mother, they saved me. It was that old man Morgan that hurt me. He crushed my neck. These gentlemen saved me from that dreadful house, Mother.”
“Sirs, you will have to forgive my wife. She is distraught of course and understandable. We just don’t see folk like you round these parts. Strangers and all.” A man said stepping forward from the crowd. “I am Maurice Silverton and I am grateful for your kindness to my child. Now we must deliver some of our justice to that bastard up there. Right folks?”
“Wait!” Maurice said holding up a hand to the crowd. “Please. If you do this now you will kill us both too. We have to go back in there.”
“Back in there? Are you crazy Maurice?” Mackenzie said.
“Do you want to tell me which bit of this isn’t crazy Mackenzie. Any little bit of it? If they burn the house down we are stuck here right? Somehow we need to get back to our own time and place and I think I know how.” Maurice said.
“Well yes I had been wondering that myself. Angela would be really pissed if I didn’t turn up again for four hundred years.” Mackenzie replied.
Thriller: Horror: The Cottage (Mystery Suspense Thrillers) (Haunted Paranormal Short Story) Page 3
