People like Charlie, people like Anyu – they’re the sort of people who are going to be famous for something. Their names are the ones that will be in the papers for the things they’ve achieved. Not people like me.
That’s what I always thought.
But when they ruled that Tom was killed by accident, that it was ‘misadventure’, that he had just wandered off because he was pissed, that I had just got away with it so easily, I realised that, yes, there was something I could be famous for after all.
We’ve been up there a few times – in the snow and the rain and the wind; me and Dad and Nanna Wrack. There are stories, we’ve decided, that need to be told. Despite schools and rules, and Mum, and the Tom Jeffries of this world, there are stories that need to be seen from different perspectives in order to make sense.
But who would listen to someone like me?
Who cares about my story?
You would. All you, who’ve been waiting with baited breath for this final episode. I don’t blame you. It’s in our nature as people to want to know the end, to find a conclusion amidst the mud and the reeds and the leaves.
You’re probably wondering how they’ll catch us. You’re wondering how the police will track us down – me and Dad and Nanna Wrack. And what if I even told you there was more to come? There’d be a little piece of you that would want to hear it, wouldn’t there? There’d be a little part of you that would hope that we’d be able to tell more stories just like this one.
And isn’t there another little part of you – a little Tom Jeffries-shaped part of your heart – that wonders whether someone like me is just telling a story, that someone like me isn’t capable of doing what I’ve done? That it’s all just a tale to keep you amused on your way to work.
After all, that’s what I’m famous for, isn’t it?
And finally, don’t you really want to know … about me?
There is no more.
That is the end, this confession of sorts.
Here we have what allegedly happened to Tom Jeffries, according to his alleged killer. Little is known about Brian Mings, save for the anecdotal evidence I have collected while researching this episode.
Maybe there is more, as Brian says. However, I decided, if Six Stories was to be concluded by anyone, it had to be me.
I have to at least try and convince you that I, Scott King, am not, in fact, Brian Mings. I have to try and do that – for my own sake, if not for anyone else’s.
Obviously, I can make promises, I can promise that this recording will be turned over to the police and there is a possibility that I may be in trouble for releasing what could be crucial evidence in the case of Tom Jeffries.
There is a possibility I may be arrested, charged and tried for Tom Jeffries’ murder.
I can guarantee there will be an exhumation of Tom’s body. Derek, Eva, Charlie and Anyu will all be spoken to again and this old wound will be reopened for a third time, causing untold grief to the Jeffries family and untold agony to those who were involved. But maybe that is the intention?
Maybe it is wrong for me to do this, to put this podcast out? That’s for you to decide. But for me, I think that the story of Brian Mings and Tom Jeffries is a story that, however abhorrent it may be, would have never been told otherwise.
Is that a good thing?
It certainly makes us think what side we take on this whole matter.
Is this a lesson? In some ways, I suppose it is. Tom Jeffries was clearly an unpleasant character whose actions went largely unpunished. A group of teenagers who were allowed softer boundaries than most, raised to be accepting and tolerant, yet still allowed one of their members to feel victimised.
Maybe that’s it? Maybe that’s the point?
Personally, I believe it’s a combination of both, blended in the crucible of a damaged mind. I believe the story here has to be taken in many ways and there is no definite conclusion. In true crime, this is often the case.
However, I do believe, like Brian, that some stories do need to be told.
Even this one.
I have been, I assure you, Scott King.
This has been our sixth and last story.
Farewell.
THE END
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everyone who has, in small, large and sometimes oblivious ways, contributed to the writing of Six Stories:
Nick and Amy at New Writing North, who first told me about Serial; Laura at New Writing North for giving me such amazing opportunities to work with talented young writers at the weekends, and Claire at New Writing North for pulling strings she didn’t have to pull.
Peter Mortimer at Iron Press, for his belief, which is as fearsome as his constructive criticism. Shelley Day for her exquisite company and huge writing talent. Paul Clark and the Disley family, for enthusing about my work, even when I was writing bad short stories about monsters; you lot kept me going in some dark times. My sister from another mister; Max Halls, Jex Collyer and Andy Bain; my Lancaster buddies. Benjamin Bee and Richard Dawson, my stupidly talented Newcastle friends who always told me I would get here even when I didn’t believe it. Steve, Megan, Leah, the board game massive and the inimitable Dr Sarah Farmer.
Kati Heikkapelto, Amanda Jennings, Yrsa Sigurðadottir and Antti Tuomainen, for being not only hugely influential in terms of writing but lovely people who indulged me as a fanboy of their talent.
My family: Jill, for putting up with me for so many years; Mum, Dad, Chet, Joe, Katie, Gloria, Derrick and my incredible sister, Nina, who is not just a sibling but a sterling critic of my work, as well as a phenomenal friend. All that from a test tube, eh?
My son, Harry, for being the driving force behind all I do.
Huge gratitude goes to my publisher, Karen Sullivan, who plucked me from obscurity and gave me a chance – for your relentless support, your unwavering belief and the free books I thank you; you are truly an outstanding creature.
My magnificent editor, West Camel, for his help in honing my work into what it has become, and Mark Swan for the phenomenal cover artwork.
And, of course, if you got all the way here, you, dear reader; you’re one of the good ’uns!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Matt Wesolowski is an author from Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the UK. He is an English tutor and leads Cuckoo Young Writers creative writing workshops for young people, in association with New Writing North. Matt started his writing career in horror and his short horror fiction has been published in Ethereal Tales magazine, Midnight Movie Creature Feature anthology, 22 More Quick Shivers anthology and many more. His debut novella, The Black Land, a horror set on the Northumberland coast, was published in 2013. A new novella set in the forests of Sweden will be available shortly. Matt was a winner of the Pitch Perfect competition at Bloody Scotland Crime Writing Festival in 2015. He is currently working on his second crime novel, Ashes, which involves black metal and Icelandic sorcery.
Follow Matt on Twitter @ConcreteKraken
Copyright
Orenda Books
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London SE21 8HU
www.orendabooks.co.uk
This ebook edition published by Orenda Books 2016
The lines quoted on page 189 are taken from ‘The Wendigo’ by Algernon Blackwood (1869–1951).
Copyright © Matt Wesolowski 2016
Matt Wesolowski has asserted his moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-910633-63-2
Typeset in Garamond by MacGuru Ltd
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incide
nts are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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