by Jim Ody
Little Miss Evil
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Little Miss Evil
Prologue
H is back was against the grandfather clock. The metronomic sound almost deafening against the silence. His heart beat a tattoo rhythm to match the clock.
It was a warm muggy night, but the temperature inside the desolate house had noticeably dropped.
Thomas clutched the condolence card in his arthritic fingers, and wondered where his wife was.
“Connie?” he called her name again. The tremor in his voice a mix of old age and fear. She’d normally call down to him when he came in from the pub. She’d be propped up by pillows engrossed in a mystery novel.
In thirty years of marriage, he’d not known the house to be this quiet when he returned.
His stomach swirled with anxiety as he looked once again at what was inscribed inside the card.
Sorry to hear about your wife
“Connie!” Desperately he shouted, and forced his weary legs to move into action.
Then there was a smash! And the house was plunged into darkness.
He stopped instantly, just as quickly as he’d begun to move. Paralysed once again.
“Connie?” He repeated, but this time there was no doubt it was with pure fear and panic. “Are you here?”
A movement caught his peripheral vision. He whipped his head around as something, or someone, ran out of sight. Little steps.
And then he heard giggling. A child-like laugh that taunted him.
“Who’s there?” He said sobering up in an instant. He walked with his usual limp towards where the movement had been. He searched for a weapon but had nothing. The larder door in the kitchen was ajar. With tentative steps, and a little effort, he walked up to it. He thought about slamming it shut and calling the police. But if there were someone there, he would be little resistance to the strength of someone young and fit. His best days were so far behind him they were nothing more than a dot on the horizon.
Instead, he whipped it open. A fist held high ready to strike.
Nothing. Only the tinned food they’d stocked up.
There was more movement. This time slightly behind him. He turned as something, or someone, ran in the opposite direction.
He followed it, and wondered for the first time whether his mind had gone. Finally, eaten away by some degenerative disease he didn’t know he had. He heard footsteps quick and spritely up the stairs.
“Connie?” he called again. This time a little louder, but no less scared. With her bad hip, there was no way it had been her.
And then the radio came on. The sound of different channels being tuned in. Then it caught the channel perfectly. The song clear. A mournful rendition of Silent Night. Slow and sinister, with strings and a deep slow voice.
With each step he felt his courage drip away. His breathing was short and quick, and he felt a slight pain in his chest. Where was his wife? Why wasn’t she answering?
He got to the top of the stairs and walked towards their bedroom. A light was on but was moving back and forth.
Again, he called her name. “Connie? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
He pushed open the door, and fell to his knees. The music stopped in an instant.
There she was. Swinging from the wooden beam on the ceiling by the rope around her throat. Back and forth in front of the bulb. The light danced around the room.
Now through the silence, he heard another rhythmic sound. The drip-drop of the blood from where her arms used to be. They had been removed and lay criss-crossed on the floor.
On the wall, written in a bloody child-like scrawl were the words:
And now she’s ‘armless
“Con-nie…” he was barely able to say through tears. Their life together now flashing before him as he tried to pry his eyes away from the horror.
A giggle came from the corridor behind him. He turned as someone strong grabbed his hair and a blade sliced through his throat with ease.
His body dropped to the floor with a thud. The blood quickly pooled around it, his clothing soaking it up.
The lonely house on the edge of the village would soon become infamous. Not one person would ever know who did it, or why.
It was known by locals as The House of Blood.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 1- Will
T he week away was what they’d been looking forward to for a while. Life had an unfortunate tendency to get in the way. The struggles of work taking up the time they wanted to spend together.
Will drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his wedding ring making the sound louder. He smiled over at Fiona. He thought she looked like a bohemian princess. A beautiful hippie, open to anything that felt good.
Maybe that had been the problem.
“Keep your eyes on the road, mister!” she grinned, but still blushed a little. He liked that. She was a strong woman but with an air of vulnerability when it came to him.
They’d been together for years, and yet when they were alone together it was still new and raw. Perhaps their lives negated that. Busy schedules meant the time together was at a premium.
She wore a thin linen dress that moved nicely with the contours of her body. She was shapely, with lumps and bumps and a few rolls that embarrassed her but that he loved to cuddle into. What she saw as flaws, he saw as perfection.
“This place was a new listing,” he said, talking about the website they were renting it through. “Amazing value.”
“Trust me to find a man tight with his money!”
They’d left the main road behind a few miles back, and now they headed down a winding country lane, deep in the Wiltshire countryside, and down into a valley. They had passed a number of brown signs for a local campsite. Will had seen that, but it wasn’t really for them. Tall Trees camp. It sounded American.
The road then turned and they climbed up higher again as they entered a village.
“A nice little pub there,” Fiona commented as they drove past. The Old Oak it was called. She frowned waving her phone, “Signal’s crap though.”
“We’re getting away from technology, aren’t we? Let’s make the most of it!”
She screwed up her nose as she replied, “But I have to check up on work.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Nah, everything will be fine. Jo will hold down the fort, won’t she? She’s your sister. This is exactly why we wanted to get away, right? No stresses. Just me and you.”
“And a huge bed!” she winked, and he nodded.
“Oh, yes!” It was another reason why he loved her so much.
The subject changed just as quickly as they drove past some houses, then slowed as they saw the lone house, with a large tree outside.
“This is it!” Will said. It would do. Apparently, there was a hot tub out the back.
When they got inside, they were surprised at how bright and airy the place was. It looked like it had been refurbished only recently. Someone had really made an effort to make the place welcoming. Already, he was ready to leave a positive review on TripAdvisor!
Will dropped the bags down as Fiona ran over and flung her arms around him. They kissed slowly and deeply. Both completely in love.
“I need this so much,” she said looking into his eyes.
“What the kiss, or the getaway?”
“Both, of course.” She then exhaled as she saw the large grandfather clock. She walked over to it. It looked so old.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Will said. “I wonder what stories it could tell if it could speak!”
“I know,” she agreed. She squalled in delight again, grabbed his hand and took him up the
stairs to explore.
He gripped her tight. She was so precious to him. Her youthful energy was what attracted him to her. She bounded around and was enthusiastic about everything.
Upstairs there were three bedrooms, a main bathroom, and an en-suite.
Fiona jumped onto the bed, enjoying the way the soft mattress hugged her.
“Thank you for this,” she said with a sweet seriousness. “Our time together is so important.”
He shrugged, and said, “You’re welcome.” In truth it was for both of them. The past few months had taken its toll. Neither wanted to admit it but as unbelievable as it was, they almost didn’t make it. What kept them together throughout it all was their love.
And then they heard running footsteps down the stairs, followed by a childish giggle.
Fiona looked at Will, and they both frowned. Slowly they walked out and down the stairs. No one was there.
“You heard that too, right?” Fiona said.
“Footsteps and a child giggling?” She nodded. They laughed it off and brought in the rest of their things.
“Shall we check out that pub?” Will said as he locked the car.
“Sure.”
With a glance behind them at the house, they walked away towards the town.
The pub looked old with a thatched roof and a huge swinging sign out the front. The Old Oak.
Behind it was a handful of houses, but when you looked further there were clumps of cottages and buildings nestled amongst the trees.
They pushed open the large door and were immediately hit with the old pub smell. A mixture of smoky wood and stale alcohol. It probably should be off putting, but nostalgia had a funny way of twisting bad smells in to great memories. A trick of the mind.
Despite popular clichés, nobody paid them any mind as they walked in. There were a number of people there, some old locals propping up the bar and bending the ear off a bold but bearded barman, a family eating at a large table under the window, a couple doing their best to remain PG-13, another couple doing their best not to murder each other, a group of teenagers in the corner, a mysterious guy sat on his own looking at everybody, a woman on her phone who clearly had a better signal than everyone else, and some men in suits laughing over a sneaky pint.
They walked up to the bar, and the barman held up a finger to one of the locals and welcomed Will and Fiona with a smile.
“How do,” he said in a Wiltshire accent. It wasn’t a question, as much as a greeting. “What can I getcha?”
“Hi!” Will politely smiled back, and glanced at Fiona like the question was a tough one. He was never a huge fan of going into places he didn’t know. “I’ll have a bitter, and Fi?”
She looked behind the bar, and nodded as she said, “I’ll have a gin and tonic. Double gin, just a splash of tonic. If that’s okay?”
“Right y’are!” he winked and got to it.
It was nice that the pub probably looked the way it had done for the past thirty years. The trend of old pubs being turned into over-priced gastropubs had not made it there. Instead, the walls held old pictures faded by sunlight. There were farming tools on the walls, and it was easy to believe they’d been used within a few miles’ radius in the past, and not reproduced in a city factory a year previous and then chemically aged to ‘look’ authentic.
“You staying at the campsite too?” The barman said placing the gin and tonic down first. It seemed to be a natural assumption.
“No,” Will said. “Blackland Cottage? Just up the road.” The barman noticeably jerked at the mention of the house, but quickly slipped back into pulling the pint.
“Really?” He said placing the bronze liquid with the creamy-head down onto the bar mat. “Renting?”
Will nodded. “Yes, for the week.” He noticed two of the locals glancing over whilst speaking to each other in hushed voices.
“Well, you’re welcome in here anytime.” The words came out in a strange condolence, rather than just polite. Perhaps they just preferred them staying in the cottage rather than down at the campsite.
“Thank you,” Will said handing over the cash.
They walked over and took a seat next to the window. A musty smell emitted as they sat down on the worn cushion bench.
“Interesting place,” Fiona commented looking at her phone, slightly distracted.
“Put that thing away,” Will said with a smirk. “The locals will think we’re rich!”
“I know, I was just-”
But Will held up a hand. “This is about us, yeah?”
She nodded but didn’t seem convinced.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 2 - Jenny
T his was her first steps of independence. Nat wanted to go abroad to one of those popular teen destinations. The sort you saw on documentaries where they only seemed to come alive at night, and the teens were comatose throughout the day. Her parents would’ve freaked though. They’d seen the television programs too. Those resorts appeared to have no one over the age of twenty-five there - apart from the police and medics who looked exhausted with trying to keep the peace. They were scared of the idea that their sweet daughter would end up drunk, hounded by sex-obsessed males, or drugged. They trusted their daughter, but not her friends or anyone else around her.
It didn’t matter. Jenny was just as scared. Nat was obsessed with boys. Now they had both turned eighteen, Nat was ready to go wild. She wanted to move on from the fumbles in the park over a sweet cider drink. She had recently come out of a year-long relationship, and now considered herself a sexual expert. Jenny was inexperienced and wasn’t sure she had wanted her first time to be with a drunk lad who dribbled over her and got overly excited by just seeing boobs.
Nat wasn’t over the moon with the prospect of a camping trip in Wiltshire. In fact, she’d shunned the idea outright when she thought they were going to be in a tent. But this place was different, there were small basic cabins, as well as a camping area, and caravan hook-ups.
“It’s not quite the same, is it?” she had moaned. “I hardly need to pack my bikinis and little dresses.”
Jenny felt guilty that she was putting a downer on the holiday, but the last year had been massive. She’d grown from a little girl into a woman, and she was struggling with the transition. A year ago, she was still happily watching Disney movies, and hugging her teddy-bear Bonzo. Sure, she went down the park with Nat, and Megan, but she also liked to go back home and snuggle up in her bed. Alone. Whereas her friends were obsessed with boys.
“It will be fun!” Jenny said enthusiastically, but she was trying to convince herself as much as Nat. Megan had still refused.
“Who’s going to be there? Farmers and in-breds!”
“Cider?” Jenny tried grasping at straws. Eventually, when Nat started looking into the camp and saw a few pictures of bare-chested men, her friends decided they’d go.
But only if they went to Greece next year!
The three girls had crammed into Jenny’s blue Mini. Both Nat and Meg had two bags each crammed with shoes, make-up and hair-straighteners. It was as if they were going to a fancy hotel rather than small spidery log-cabins in the woods.
“You got everything?” Jenny joked. Nat putting on some dance music she insisted was being played in all the clubs, and Meg jiggled in the back like she was already half-cut.
“We’re going abroad next year Jenny-Wren!” Nat sung out, using the nicknamed they’d penned for her.
Jenny shrugged trying to be as non-committal as possible. She had another year to try and get out of it. Or perhaps she’d be totally up for it then.
The camp wasn’t that far away from where they lived. A couple of hours at the most – traffic pending.
“I hope this place will be busy,” Meg said, looking out of the window. “If it’s just barn-dances, or worse still an empty karaoke night in the pub, then I’m gonna be well-pissed off!”
“It’ll be fine,” Jenny said, although she had everything crossed, with no guara
ntees. It would be awful if the place turned out to be a borefest. She’d never live it down.
Nat grinned. “Well, let’s just enjoy it. As long as we get pissed, and I get my hands on a naked guy then this week’ll be fine!”
For the next hour the small car seemed to move less with the engine, and more with the heavy basslines of the music. Jenny knew a few songs, and she had to admit it was fun to sing along, although she wished her friends would let her put on some Elton John. They’d all been friends since their junior school. Jenny sometimes wished she had a best-friend who was more like her, but she conceded that things in life rarely turn out how you wished. She was hardly a perfect fit as a friend for Nat either. Somehow that helped them gel. Nat could be loud and brash, which was also a little like Meg, but both appreciated Jenny for the sweet and kind soul she was. Meg and Nat were often rivalling, and she was left in the middle to smooth out the arguments, and patch up the wounds left by sharp words. Again, it was the reason why she was driving. Jenny the sensible one. The girl all the mothers loved. She wouldn’t do anything wrong.
Except that wasn’t quite true.
Jenny had a huge secret. It was the reason why she was so desperate for them to come to the camp. She just hoped her friends wouldn’t find out.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 3 - Will
W ill and Fiona stayed for another drink, and even ventured further for a sandwich. Considering the look of the place it was surprisingly good. They were expecting a basic sandwich – the sort they could easily have made themselves, but instead they had fat beef sandwiches with a ploughman’s platter. All on fancy square plates, with cheese, pickle, salad, pickled onions and sweet potato fries all on the side. There was some homemade coleslaw, and a swirl of another sweet sauce. The barman almost appeared apologetic as he placed them down.
“New chef,” he said almost reading their minds. “Thinks he’s Gordon bloody Ramsey.”
“It looks lovely,” Fiona said, but the barman wasn’t convinced. He shrugged, flashed a quick smile of politeness and walked off.
Later, and now full up, they wandered back to the cottage.
