My Sister And I: A dark, violent, gripping and twisted tale of horrifying terror in the Scottish Highlands.

by Sean-Paul Thomas

  Up close and behind his scruffy and scraggily beard, filthy ripped jeans, shirt, and jacket he looked more like mid-thirties now rather than fifty. I began thinking deeply about how a person could end up like that. What horrific things or string of bad luck did a person have to go through in order to live out on the street like this. But before I could think any more about it, his pleading sobs brought me back to reality again with a thud.

  “Ah didnae mean it. Ah anly wanted tae go tae ma bed. Am sorry man. Am really sorry, ye know. Ah didnae know this wiz yur patch, pal. Yur alleyway, ma man. Ah didnae know. Ah jist wanted ma bed. Ah jist wanted tae go tae ma bed.”

  “Go tae your bed, ye cunt?” dad shot back. “Al put ye tae your fuckin’ bed, awright, ye fuckin’ jakey cunt, ye! Ye fuckin’ plague tae society. Al put ye tae sleep, awright!”

  Out of the darkness, my sister silently stepped up beside me. She put her hand gently upon my shoulder. I turned to face her. When I turned to face her, she just smiled warmly and nodded like she knew exactly what I was thinking. Like she knew what needed to be done.

  It had to be done to finally free myself.

  She took a hold of my knife hand and guided it in the direction it needed to go.

  “We’re gonnae play a wee fuckin’ game, ye and I, son,” dad continued to rant and rave. “It’s called ‘hide the fuckin’ blade.’”

  Dad unleashed a devilish grin. He turned his face towards mine. His eyes were on fire, blazing from the pupils within with an insane rage and desire. I’d seen pictures of various interpretations of the devil before, but they were nothing like this. Nothing like him.

  “You ARE ready,” he said to me. “You are fuckin’ ready, ma girl!” dad roared.

  He was about to give me the nod. His blessing to step up to the homeless man and do my thing. To bury my knife anywhere on his body that took my fancy and bury it deeply and repetitively at that.

  Dad was right about one thing. We were ready.

  As he locked his eyes into mine and gave out that familiar, sadistic, sinister, old grin of his. Not a second sooner, nor without any further hesitation, did we both then drive that large hunting knife home together.

  My sister and I.

  Together as one.

  We plunged that long, thick, sharp blade deep and hard, all the way in and through and right to the back of my father’s vein-bulging throat. Right up to the hilt of the handle

  I think, in that moment, he caught a quick glimpse of the two of us together again, side by side. One last time. His two, brave, little daughters.

  The way his eyes darted from one of us to the other in those last few moments—from sister to sister, her, still standing, cold, stern, and hard, right by my side—he must have known.

  As the blood began to spray then slowly ooze out of him like the red Falls of Clyde, he finally dropped his knife to the ground. He raised his hands, meekly up towards his throat. He desperately tried to clutch the knife handle and pull it out from his severed wind pipe but, alas, he couldn’t do it.

  The strength and life were draining from him too thick and fast, and the knife, as far as I could tell, had wedged itself into the roof of his spine and the back bones of his neck.

  He let go of the handle and staggered back. I thought he might fall backwards with an almighty thud, but then he surprised me by falling down onto his knees instead. Still fighting for his life. Stubborn and strong right to the bitter end.

  He glanced up at the two of us again. Neither of us had moved. We both remained callously still. Neither one of us uttered a word or even took a breath for that matter. None of us were showing any emotion or remorse at the brutal and violent act we had just participated in and committed together.

  I swear he almost looked proud.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but was no longer than a minute or so at most, dad fell flat onto his face and died.

  I turned around to face my sister again. She turned to face me. We looked at each other long and hard. We both knew instantly what the other was thinking.

  So, this was what freedom felt like.

  So, this was what freedom looked like.

  I hugged my sister as hard as I possibly could and she, in turn, hugged me.

  Before we left the alley, I went through my father’s pockets. I took his wallet and car keys. When my sister and I finally left the alleyway together, hand in hand, the homeless man was lying flat on his back, passed out on his drugs and booze, and snoring for Scotland like nothing had ever happened. He would wake up later, believing everything had been nothing more than a dream. Well, until he saw my father’s dead body lying there beside him.

  We didn’t care though. We didn’t give a holy damned hell. My sister and I were free to do whatever we liked. And there was a whole, wide, new world, waiting out there for us to explore.

  But there was one more thing I wanted to do first before I embarked on this new adventure of our life together. I wanted to drive all the way back up to our house again. I wanted to climb back down into that cellar. I wanted to take both my sister’s and my mother’s remains out of that disgusting hell-hole and give them the proper burial they deserved. Out in the open somewhere. Some place in amongst the natural beauty of the Highlands. Somewhere more fitting for them than the inside of some cold, dark and miserable cellar. Maybe on the edges of a secluded forest or the banks of a nearby loch or way up high upon the clifftops close to our home and beside the sea.

  I climbed into dad’s car and made myself comfortable in the passenger’s seat. My sister climbed into the driver’s side and took a firm grasp of the wheel. Out of the two of us, she was the better driver. She was the one who was better at finding her way than I. She would be the one who would have us back in the Highlands in no time at all.

  I smiled and watched as she put the key into the ignition, started the engine, slid the car into gear and drove us home.

  Chapter 22

  Early the next morning I carried my sister’s pale and light body, along with the skeletal remains of the woman who I assumed to be our mother, out to the nearby coastal clifftops, one at a time.

  It took me a whole day to dig a deep enough grave up there and big enough for the two of them to lay in, side by side. Which I thought was pretty good going for a young girl of my size. But by Christ only I’d had plenty of practice.

  As the sun gently set across the calm waters while the moon hovered gently overhead did, I finally finish the makeshift grave by hammering home two single crosses into the dirt above them. A fitting finish to my only known family.

  Back down at the farmhouse I began to prepare myself for another road trip later that evening. Dad had plenty of stored up petrol in his large garden shed, so at least we wouldn’t have to pull into any petrol stations on the way and cause a bit of a stir and ruckus with the petrol station attendants when they saw a bunch of teenage kids driving a car and filling up its petrol tank.

  This time I climbed into the driver’s side while my sister climbed into the passenger seat beside me.

  “So where are we off tae now then, sis?” my sister cheerfully asked.

  “Thurso.” I calmly stated, while awaiting her protests that never arrived. Instead she just gently nodded.

  “Did ye mind tae bring extra cans of petrol, aye? Just in case? Looks a long drive that.”

  “Aye” I softly replied. “Shoved a few cans in the boot. Enough to get us there and back if needed.”

  I then started the engine and carefully reversed out of our Highland wilderness home for the very last time.

  After a long drive throughout the night, only stopping once in a secluded layby to pee in some bushes, we finally arrived in Thurso. I spent another hour trawling through the quiet little fishing town’s streets and suburbs, eagerly looking for this Anderson drive and the home of Margaret and Eilidh Brown. The respective sender and recipient of the opened envelope that I’d discovered hidden within my father’s cellar.

  When I found it the stree
t, I pulled up outside the small, cosy and well-kept cottage, turned off the engine and lights and just sat in the comforting silent darkness of the car, pondering my next move.

  It was well into the early hours. I assumed everyone would still be in their beds. I’d prepared myself to crash in the back seat until morning. I’d even brought a sleeping bag and some extra blankets. But curiously, like a lighthouse beaming out during a wild storm in the middle of the night for any stray ships that had lost their way - a single dim light seemed to be shining out from behind the living room curtains as if it were waiting and signalling just for me.

  My sister was nowhere to be seen. But I had to do this on my own anyway. I took a deep breath, gathering both my thoughts and composure. Then picking up the old book and envelope that I’d stashed in the glovebox for safe keeping, I stepped out of the car and made my slow walk up towards the front door of the cottage.

  When I arrived at the door, I took another strong breath before closing my eyes gently over and knocking as hard as I could upon the white painted oak wood.

  Immediately I heard a small dog barking out from within. Followed by some other movement and shuffling around. Another light went on in the hallway behind the door. Next was the sound of the front door unlocking. Then a woman’s voice firmly telling the little dog to be quiet. The door finally opened wide and a thin, but stern looking middle-aged woman stood in the open doorway to confront me. She was holding a cup of tea in her hand and with a tired, hang dog expression, she looked as if she hadn’t seen a good night’s sleep in years.

  When she glanced down to gaze at me standing at the front door, she suddenly gasped. Like she had just seen a ghost and then some. In a heartbeat the cup of warm tea slipped from her hands and fell hard, down onto the vinyl floor right beside her feet. The china smashed to smithereens and the tea contents flooded over her beautiful floor. But she never took her eyes away from mine. Not for a second, and I couldn’t yet tell if this was a good sign or not.

  The woman covered her mouth as if about to hold back a scream of either horror or joy, while I tried my utmost to remain calm, unphased and emotionless. Just watching and waiting, but totally at a loss to what might or could happen next.

  The woman said nothing for a such long time. She just stared at me, continuously, over and over, just looking, gazing, staring in such disbelief with the biggest, widest and curious look in her eyes.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “Oh my god… oh my god… you look just like her...”

  “Who?” I softly asked. But I knew in my heart who she might be referring too.

  “My sister. My younger sister Eilidh. When she was about your age.”

  “Do you mean my mother?” I calmly asked.

  The woman looked even more dumbstruck.

  “Your mother? Who are you, lass? Where did you come from? Why are you here?”

  Without any further words I handed the woman the Wuthering Heights book along with the crusty old envelope inside. Again, the woman just gazed at the book and the envelope like she had just seen something that she believed was truly impossible.

  Tears began swelling up in her eyes.

  “Where did you… where did you get this from?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I just bided my time. Bit my tongue. I knew the woman wanted to say more. And I desperately wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “I gave this to my sister 18 years ago. Before she went off hitchhiking around the country all by herself. No one ever saw or heard from her again. Not since she arrived in Fort William. We’d given up all hope.”

  Again, I remained absolutely silent and still. Just taking it all in. Soaking up all of her words. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now and even dripping off her chin.

  “This is her book. This was the envelope of the last letter I sent her when she was staying down in Fort William. Who gave you this? Where did you get it from? The police said at the time that the letter did arrive, but like Eilidh, it was never found.”

  I took a deep breath. What the hell could I say in that moment. There was so much damn much to tell and ask. A whole lifetime of memories to fill in and catch up on. But I could only think of one sentence to say in that moment to sum everything up that I was feeling.

  “I think it belonged to my mother.”

  My eyes filled with tears just as soon as the words left my lips. The woman covered her mouth again. I could see her eyes gazing at me now, looking with a new light, up and down, like she was really seeing me for the first time again. A little lost and broken girl standing in front of her.

  Slowly but surely, I could feel her taking in my whole, dirty, bloodied presence and tragically sad and sorrowful demeanour. A million and one new questions raging through her mind all at once. The first question no doubt wondering just what the hell had happened to me recently to be in such an horrific state. And what life of terror had I recently escaped from?

  “Oh, my god, you poor child.” Was all the woman could say as she stepped towards me with open arms, hugging me lovingly hard right into her. It took a few moments for me to loosen up, but I finally welcomed her warmth and hugged her back.

  “Look at the state of you, dear child. You look like you’ve been in the wars and then some.”

  The woman released her hold. She took a step back and rested her hands down upon my shoulders.

  “Please, do come in.” She continued to fret as she beckoned me through the front door and into her cottage. “Let’s get you all cleaned up shall we. And fed too? You must be hungry? And, if you want to tell me all about how you ended up here on my door step this night. Well, you can certainly do that too, but only if you want to and completely in your own time, of course.”

  I gently nodded. I was sobbing now too. We both were. I’d never felt so much overwhelming love and kindness before. Only the recent warmth of Chris could compare. But the raw emotion and feelings of love and tenderness from within the woman’s voice completely floored me. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was nod and cry as I followed the woman, my auntie, my new family, into the cottage.

  The End

  Thank you for downloading my Novel 'My Sister and I'

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  Here is a list of all my books to date –

  Novels

  Ugly Beautiful (Horror/Thriller)

  After going on the run into the mountains, a young gangster comes across the body of an unconscious young woman outside his hideaway cottage retreat. As he attempts to nurse the mysterious girl back to health things take a chilling turn.

  The Desolation of Solitude (Sci-Fi/Mystery/Thriller)

  A young man awakens from a long hibernation sleep on board an eerie and crew-less space shuttle with no memory of who he is or how he got there.

  Sarah Smiles (Young Adult/Coming of Age)

  After moving with his military father to a new army base, an introverted eleven-year-old boy struggles to fit into his new life. But when he meets the mysterious tomboy, Sarah, she is the one who opens his eyes up to a whole new world filled with fun, adventure, romance, and tragedy.

  Once Upon a Time in Edinburgh (Adult/Drama/Romance)

  When Ryan tragically dies in a plane crash, he bizarrely reawakens on an Edinburgh bus, seated beside a familiar, beautiful, lost tourist girl from five years earlier, and soon realizes that he has been granted a second chance with the one who got away.

  The Wrath of David (Post-Apocalyptic/Action/Thriller)
<
br />   In the aftermath of a brutal civil race war, David, a suicidal marine with a tragic past and nothing left to live for, sets off on a perilous journey into the heart of a lawless, un-United Kingdom, to seek out the barbaric racist murderers who brutally butchered his mix raced lover.

  The Old Man and The Princess (Thriller/Mystery/Sci-Fi/Fantasy)

  A Raven Award Finalist. A Nashville Film Festival Screenplay Finalist and recently optioned to be a MAJOR MOTION PICTURE.

  'Is the old man really who he says he is? And is he telling Sersha the truth about where she is truly from?'

  A crazy old man kidnaps Sersha, a young, headstrong, Irish girl, from the streets of Galway and tries to convince her that her life's destiny is tied to a mysterious cave in the Scottish Highlands.

  My Sister and I (Horror/Thriller)

  A young teenage girl and her twin sister must grow up hard and fast in the unforgiving mountains as their father - a twisted and violent man, obsessed with the end of the world - teaches them how to survive out in the wild with no one to rely on but themselves.

  Lust for Life. (Thriller/Action/Adult/Romance)

  A working-class man with terminal cancer gives up everything so that he can live his life to the fullest. But when he finds love and a new lease of life along the way, will that be enough to curb his crazy antics from spiralling into an unstoppable train wreck of carnage?

  Series

  The Fairy Boy of Calton Hill (Books 1-3). (Young Adult/Fantasy)

  A young boy is befriended by a strange fairy creature after she breaks the strict rules of her world and intervenes when the boy is beaten up by a gang of bullies outside the secret magical entrance to her fantastical world.

  Short story collections

  3in1 Horror

  3in1Thriller (Coming soon)

  3in1Comedy (Coming soon)