“Do you think he can see us from down there... my love?”
“Possibly, he seems however to be distracted by that troublesome sheep.”
“I enjoy it here, it’s where we first met and began our game.”
“You’ll never find her,” teases the smaller figure -”the doll I mean. She's far too well hidden - and you shouldn't have taken it out on those poor people - try not to be so harsh next time.”
“There won’t be a next time. What year are we in?”
“Two thousand and six, according to the Gregorian calendar my love.”
“Then that night was over three hundred years ago - don’t you ever let things go?”
“No, and especially when I have to fix your mistakes...my love,” replies the smaller of the two, sarcastically.”
“I was angry... you know how upset I become when I lose.”
“It's a game; it's just unfortunate you’ve not won yet, although in sixteen sixty three you did get a little... too close.” Then removing her hood she looks longingly at her companion. “You nearly destroyed that pretty little village - and half the population of London when you panicked and packed her off to Eyam, you should be ashamed.”
“True, but it did keep me ahead of our game, did it not?”
“Do you think they'll ever find out why we're really here?”
“Some may, but who will ever believe them.”
“So, our game continues...my love.”
“Yes, and I think It might begin here, with another visit to that old farm building, down below, I have a feeling you might be trying to hide something in there.”
“Now that’s not fair...my love.”
Ben cleans his glasses then strains even more through the pouring rain at the abbey, and as the moon flirts with the clouds and the light fades, diminishing the clarity of the two figures, they seem to disappear altogether.
“I could have sworn there was something up there. Oh well... never mind.... must have been just my imagination.”
Ben starts the car, engages drive and sets off back toward Hollow farm with Jacob, the psycho sheep, now staring at him, hard, through the rear view mirror.
Background Noise
Ruby, my older sister is like my minder. She looks out for me when things get tricky - like the time Carl ‘The Muscle Man’ Carter tried to forcefully borrow my football – prompting Ruby to challenge Carter to an arm wrestle. Not realising Ruby had the power of ten men, she really messed with Carters mind, beating him in three straight sets something he never lived down.
Formally known as Carl, ‘The Muscle Man Carter, a now Un-Muscled Man’ had secretly developed a crush on my sister and took to following her around all day like a love sick puppy moving people out of the way and making love faces at her, every opportunity he got like some body guard to the stars.
Sorry, I forgot to tell you my name - its Barney or Barnaby if my mom is telling me off. I love my name although it could have been Jamie, however, my mom and Dad knew best even if Granddad did say, ‘Over my dead body’, which was unfortunate - because that's exactly what happened, but that’s another story.
The day things changed for me - well everybody really - was the day of the Xbox challenge and I was feeling quite exited. The sleepovers Gregs and I had always followed a similar pattern - we would have dinner - retreat to my room to watch whatever movies we had discussed the day before, consume enormous amounts of soft drinks and then on a sky high sugar rush, stay up into the ‘wee hours of the morning’ as Gregor so colloquially put it, in his high pitched Scottish accent, laughing and smirking over nothing until the morning sun delivered its killer blow and school was upon us.
Gregor and I had often played online but never together in the same room at the same time, so we hadn’t really seen the pain on each other’s faces when one of us lost or the smiles of victory when either one of us won. Gregor had played his best game and I was now seeking revenge in a grudge match. As I reached across for the controller I noticed its case was missing... strange... I was sure it was there the evening before. The week that followed was pretty much the same, small things missing or moved, not much, but definitely moved. I asked Mom if she had been cleaning my bedroom.”
“No - and I’m never going in there again,” came back the reply.
I think Mum was scared of my bedroom or maybe she had just given up on the fact that it may never be clean again.
After what seemed like hours of searching, Gregor and I gave up and decided to head for bed. As Gregs had won the earlier round he got to sleep in the lower bunk, which from his point of view, being the smaller of us, was by far the safer bet as he would never survive a fall from that height. Then Mom called up.
“GOOD NIGHT BOYS, AND HAS EVERYONE GOT DRINKS?”
My reply of, “Yes, thanks Mum,” was immediately followed by Gregor breaking wind, something he did on a regular basis. His mom said it was a medical condition - but I put it down to all those beans and cheese he was so fond of.
“How's the new house, creepy at night out there... I would guess?”
“I really hate our new home Barney, its cold dark and spooky to say the least - and my bedroom overlooks the old abbey and let’s face it, what kind of parent gives their only child a room that looks up to that old place - and the smell?... it’s like something died every morning, and if that bloody cockerel crows before five again, well... I swear I’m going out there, abbey or no abbey, and ring its bloody neck... then it won’t rise so early in the morning, will it.”
“Dad was up there last night... that stupid sheep...Jacob...he got out, taking his army of sheep warriors with him, so Dad had to go up to Moorland Hill and bring him back.”
“I thought you’d enjoy living on a farm, all that space and it’s not too far to get here.”
“If Uncle Ted hadn’t left it in his will, and Mom and Dad hadn't felt obliged to take it on rather than sell it, I would have been much happier... and my bedroom! It looks like something from ‘The Haunted Mansion’.
I've even started looking under the bed. I woke up out of a dead sleep last night, just after Dad came in, I don't know why. I sat up in bed, looked at the clock, then looked to the left of my bed... a few feet from the door.... and it was just standing there... a hooded figure... watching me... was it a dream... or just imagination.... I don’t know but it frightened me to death.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Said Gregs, in a startled voice.
“Don’t do that,” I replied, “slowly reattaching the skin I had just jumped out of. “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.”
“See what I mean? It’s easy to get spooked, even in company, so how do you think it feels way out in the sticks - there was that other incident as well - the evening after. I was sat on our new sofa, reading the latest issue of Bizzare, and in the dim light I caught movement across the room - just for a moment- it seemed dark and shadowy - but there was nothing there so I returned to my reading - but a moment later there it was again - this time I looked up quickly and just in timer to see a fleeting but distinctly human shape of a shadow pass quickly over the far wall... and disappear.”
“So - what was it,” I asked?
“I thought at first it might have been a natural shadow or at worst the ghost of the old man who lived here - but then I read something – something that's preading across the internet - apparitions that are coming to be known as "shadow people" or "shadow beings, so I did some research and came up with this.
Gregor then turned his laptops screen in my direction and an article on some phenomenon known as Shadow people and about them being Interdimensional beings or something, and as I continued to read, Gregs made his way over to the window - then told me of what he saw earlier in the week.
“The other night there was that figure on the old abbey - and I’m telling you - that was real!”
“It’s probably all those weird magazines you've been reading,” I replied. “It’s possible they could be freaking your brain out -
anyway whatever it was you'll definitely sleep tonight, noticing the bags under my friends rather tired and bloodshot eyes, although by the look of the world’s biggest house spider, I’ve just noticed, now abseiling down the wall like some well-trained ninja I could be mistaken as it suddenly decides to take up residence in Gregor’s bed.
So, with a childish grin that would have illuminated half the city, I pulled the covers of my bed reassuringly over my head and said my farewells.
“See you in the morning Gregs,” then whispered to myself, “I hope.”
“And you,” replied Gregs as he broke wind once more, which must surely have killed our eight legged ninja, instantaneously.
The next morning was dreary and cold and I hadn’t slept that well, as Gregor had been passing wind all night. A boy with that much gas shouldn’t be alive, but he was and he still had more gas to give.
“I had a great time Barney, we should do this again.”
“Yes, we should,” and as I waded through the cloud of weird smells Gregor had left me in my bedroom, I noticed my iPad poking out from beneath a jumble of clothes so I reached down to retrieve it, and as I did I realized it had been left on all night, recording. This should be good I thought, it’s probably captured Greg’s enormous releases of night time wind. Then I had this amazing idea. Maybe I could mathematically calculate exactly how much gas Greg’s was producing by dividing the number of farts he released during the night by the amount of hours he had slept, and that would give me his total fart ratio...genius!
So, as a good friend and in the name of science I played it... then wished I hadn’t. There was no releasing of wind - just that haunting quietness most houses have when no one’s awake - but amongst the quietness and occasional creaks and groans I heard an unfamiliar clink... faint at first but definitely there... something in the background noise that lingered for a few moments, then died away. That’s odd I thought, so I replayed it over and over again before noticing the time frame.....12.OO ...MIDNIGHT.
Deciding this might require some further investigation, I asked Ruby if she still had that app, the one that makes appalling singers sound good.
“Autotune,” replied Ruby, “it’s on the computer in my room.”
“Can I use it, P-L-E-A-S-E?”
“Ok, but don’t send any weird text or e-mails and say it was from me.”
“Ok, deal.”
I had once sent Ruby’s boyfriend, Crazy Dave, a text saying Ruby had left home and gone to live in Brazil for a month, after winning a competition in a girl’s magazine. As you can imagine Dave wasn’t too pleased; started crying and refused to stop. I hate to see grown men cry.
Ruby’s computer was amazing with every app a fourteen year old girl could want and a desktop folder marked private which was itching to be opened, but privacy is special and I had my orders. The app I needed took a few moments to download, and as it did I could see the one button I so needed “enhance background noise” teasing me, wanting to be pressed... so I did, and at that moment my life changed forever, because Ruby who didn’t trust me at all and had followed me into her bedroom was the first to comment on our mysterious sound. “That’s the sound of a chain rattling,” she said, “like in an old horror film.”
Then Ruby asked me where it came from. “Oh, just something from an old horror film,” I replied, as I really didn’t know what else to say.
“Sounds creepy,” shuddered Ruby.
And that’s exactly what it was...CREEPY...
I didn’t sleep well that night, disturbed by the thought of that strange noise, so I decided to record the night time again, and there it was... bang on midnight... that unmistakable sound. Now this was getting weird, and a little scary, but that sound just stuck in my head and I was determined to find out exactly what it was so I decided to go to the library.
My dad used to say, ‘you can find everything you need in a library,’ and sometimes the stuff online isn’t always reliable, like the time Derek posted a video reporting the sighting of an Abominable Snowman in his garden. The local newspaper and loads of reporters came round to his house ‘and guess what’? It turned out to be Derek’s neighbor’s cat Arthur covered in snow and pine needles.
The next day the story is plastered all over the Newspaper, 'Arthur the Abominable Cat seen in local garden was a hoax.'
The whole thing was a total embarrassment, it did however alert Derek’s mom and dad to the fact that poor Derek had needed glasses for some time, and whilst visiting the opticians had somehow became the poster boy for 'Really Specs' the leading glasses company in town... and now appeared in an advert they were running on TV.
The advert had Derek looking out onto his garden at Arthur covered in pine needles shouting, “Mom there’s an Abominable Snowman in our garden.” In the meantime the real Abominable Snowman enters Derek’s bedroom, passes him a pair of 'Really Specs' glasses which Derek puts on, he then sees the real Abominable Snowman and runs screaming from his bedroom whilst the real Abominable Snowman looks into the camera and says, “He should have gone to 'Really Specs.'”
The Bloody Cauldron
So, to the Library it was, via the Gothic book shop in town, where Ruby goes for her ridiculous Jewelry.
The Gothic bookshop was amazing, selling all sorts of weird stuff and with a name like the one ‘The Bloody Cauldron’ people were bound to have a look inside.
Now, generally speaking, the shop was normally quite busy but today for some reason it was eerily empty.
Entering through its enormous front doors, I always pause momentarily to peek inside the window display area at the rows of gothic figures and witch dolls. Aligned in perfect symmetry, they remind me of some war games army I used to play as a kid.
As I stare harder, trying to make out their tiny faces, I can see they're just dripping with attitude... it's as though they were awaiting nightfall when battle would commence once more, Goths vs Witches... ‘Now’ wouldn't that be awesome! “Hello young man,” said the book shop owner, whose name was Clive - well that’s what Ruby called him - and she should know - she’d spent enough time in there.
“Looking for anything special,” inquired Clive?
“I’m not sure, really...maybe a book on weird noises?” It was at this point in the conversation I began to question how ridiculous I might be sounding.
“Like things that go bump in the night,” teased Clive. Now it began to sound even worse so I decided it might be time to change the subject a little.
“It’s very quiet in the shop today.”
“It is now,” replied Clive, looking out through a window that resembled the porthole of a ship,” but it’ll probably get busier later – I hope.”
It was then I saw her - the old lady - standing in the back of the book shop and as she stood there – statuesque - and silent - I was reminded of 'The House of the Living Dead' and those nightmarish images of female vampires as they stalked their prey.
Immaculately applied black lipstick framed the thin outline of her mouth as slender fingers adorned with enormous red fingernails, barely hidden beneath a tousle of Victorian lace, lay silently poised as though waiting to cut down any unwary victim. Her eyes then fixed on me in some cruel hypnotic gaze and like a rabbit awaiting death, frozen in the glare of some cars oncoming headlights, she made her way towards where I was standing.
“Yes,” she retorted, “it’s very quiet today young man; they must have known you were coming.”
I could now run from the shop screaming or just act cool and await my fate, although in truth I was absolutely terrified.
“Don’t worry,” assured Clive, “that’s my mum - she owns the shop - she’s nice really - and you know what old people are like.”
“Yes, my mums the same,” I replied, barely able to speak.
Now, if my mum, who is thirty-nine, had just heard that I had compared her to an old lady in her eighties she would have killed me.
“I heard that Clive,” remarked the old woman as she appe
ared clutching what looked to be a very old book or bound manuscript. “I MAY BE OLD, Clive but my hearing is just fine, thank you.”
“Sorry, Mum,” apologized Clive.
“This is for you, Barnaby,” said the old woman. “You might find something of what you’re looking for in here,” she confessed, tapping the front cover of the book with one of her huge red fingernails.
I reached out and took the book from her hand, noticing as I did the strange jewelry that hung amongst a rather faded tattoo. For an old woman her hands were incredibly smooth and I wondered if it was possible to have Botox in your hands as well as your face. Botox was all mum talked about and at that moment I had this awful thought... maybe mum was eighty... and Botox had smoothed out her whole body and she just looked thirty nine.... and what if the world’s supply of Botox ran out and Mum slipped back into her true form......
“Are you Ok, young man,” inquires Clive? You look rather pale.”
“Fine...thanks, how much is the book?”
“Free to you,” replied the old woman. “Let’s call it a birthday present, shall we?”
I thanked the old woman, and as I did, she turned back and looked towards me.
“It’s Ok you know - I don’t think they mean to hurt us - personally I think they may be just looking for something - but then again what does an old lady like me know.”
I arrived home book in hand, and was still wondering how the old woman had known my name - and what she meant by ‘They’re just looking for something.’ when Ruby collared me.
“You’ve been to my bookshop,” snapped Ruby, noticing The Bloody Cauldron carrier bag. “Haven't you?”
“It’s not exactly your shop - is it,” I replied.
Ruby then gently snatched the book from my grasp, and realizing Carter was still a broken man I wasn’t about to fight back.
“What a load of tosh,” scoffed Ruby, then demanded, “How much was it,” before flicking through the pages as quickly as she could.
Doll Page 2
