by Simon Parker
Once he touched the bottom, he found the old well had dried out many years ago. His head torch revealed that he was standing it a round chamber with walls smoothed by centuries of flowing water. The sound was almost deafening down here, booming through his veins as if his heart were an external organ being played by a heavy hand. He was sweating from his descent, but the beads stood chilled on his brow. As he looked away from the walls that towered above into what appeared to be a room of some kind, Jenny gently landed behind him as if lowered by the hands of the gods. There wasn’t so much as a bead of sweat on her brow.
She ushered him forward with a gesture. Then he saw it, the source of the sound. His eyes opened so wide he felt his eyelids fold back on themselves and he inhaled so shockingly fast that his own breath caught in his throat. Jenny nodded, as if satisfied she had done well.
Adam and Lee were exploring the far side of the church, hoping to god they could catch some footage of whatever energy Jenny had sensed, when they heard the first ear splitting scream. It took a few seconds to register that it was indeed a scream and had come from the dark forest. The two men stood looking at each other in horror for what seemed like minutes but was only seconds before the second scream split the night sky like a bloody cleaver.
“Fuck!” shouted Adam. “That has to be Matt, what the fuck…?” The two of them dropped their camera equipment and ran in the direction of their friend’s anguished cries. As they plunged into the dark depths of the forest, the screams dulled and became a tortured rasping sound, more akin to a gurgling animal noise than the strains of a human vocal chord. Then there was silence, eerie, deep penetrating silence that ripped into the two men as surely as a violating hand. The lack of sound in the void told them much more than either was prepared to accept just yet. Fear drove them on, fear and the slim hope that Matt was still okay. All thoughts of the investigation were forgotten.
The silence continued for the next hour as they searched the darkness, hunting around the forest for any sign of their friend and his new companion. Not a leaf rustled, not an animal squeaked or howled, not a breath of wind stirring the branches. It felt like they existed inside a vacuum.
The sound returned in a rush to both of them as they staggered, lost and afraid, into the strange clearing with a well at its centre. The leaves began to move in the breeze and the sudden scratching made Adam and Lee jump, startling an involuntary noise from each of the pair.
“I don’t like this,” Adam said, reaching for his friend’s shoulder, the need for a reassuring touch of another thinly disguised as a show of support. A touch that was quickly reciprocated by a terrified Lee.
“What the fuck is going on, Ad? Where the hell are Matt and Jenny? What the fuck is going on?”
As the two trembling men stood with their hands on each other’s shoulders, a dim light began to shine from the well. At first so dull it could be mistaken for a trick of the eyes, it quickly grew like a sun rising in the abyss.
Adam looked at Lee and saw in the light that Lee’s cheeks were as tear streaked as his own felt. He could see the pervasive horror in Lee’s eyes.
Lee was shaking his head. Adam cut him off before he could object. “We’ve got to, mate, he’d do it for us.” Adam said, still holding Lee with one hand. Lee’s head continued to shake as Adam looked over the side of the well into the warm glow of the space below and took a deep breath before committing to his intention. He cocked his leg over the edge despite Lee’s clawing hands and pleading whimpers. As he began to lower himself down the jagged walls of the well.
Lee turned as if to run, but thought better of it. He’d rather be terrified with a friend than die in the darkness of the forest on his own. Even in the throes of despair, logic could creep in. The two climbed down slowly to ensure their shaky limbs didn’t plummet them to the bottom.
As they descended, there came a drumming from the fiery flickering light below. The two paused and glanced at each other but forged on reluctantly. As they reached the bottom, the booming stopped abruptly and was replaced by a scuffling sound like a large animal running away.
With their hearts in their mouths, Adam and Lee ventured toward the flickering light.
“Matt? Is that you? Are you okay?” Adam said with a tremulous inflection.
A large drum standing in the centre of the room they entered. Its surface looked slick and greasy. As they got closer they could see the hand print in the middle, red and ragged as if it had been beaten by bloody hands. Adam got close enough to touch it while Lee hung back a pace or two. Suddenly Adam snapped back, slapping his hand over his mouth to stifle a scream. His breaths came in short sharp pants as he scrambled back to where Lee was now shaking violently. “What? What is it Ad?” Lee pleaded, tearfully, terrified of a reply, but needing one anyway.
“It’s Matt, that’s his shoulder tattoo on the skin of that drum, he…” the end of his sentence was cut short by another blood curdling noise from behind them. They spun round just in time to see Jenny flying at them on leathery wings of fire, her bloody mouth agape, rows of brown, needle-like teeth with threads of recently rent flesh hanging between them, bared and hungry for more. Their screams were heard by no one; they died with a gut wrenching gurgle as the blood filled their throats.
The last thing they saw before they too were flayed was the pile of drums behind the one that was Matt. Adam’s final thought was: These must be all the disappeared.
The following afternoon, the sun shone brightly through the hotel window. The lazy shadows stretched their way across the picturesque village green of Fulfolk and the bees buzzed in the lavender outside the windows. A middle-aged blonde sat at the bar, looking for all the world like she was waiting for a date. She was actually quite a lot prettier when you looked closely. There was just something very attractive about her as she sat there in the shade, carefully picking her teeth.
THE END
About the Author
When Simon Parker was a small child, he discovered an old horror comic at a jumble sale. It was dark, spooky and borderline terrifying; he read it with a passion and a hunger he had never known for anything else. At just ten years old, to satisfy the monster unleashed within, he began writing creepy tales of his own. He's only gotten deeper and darker since. His work has been featured in eHorror magazine, as well as several horror and other anthologies.
In addition to being a talented writer with a vision as dark as any cellar, Simon is also an accomplished artist with his own business in horror art and collectables called The Dark Hearts art. He resides in deepest, darkest rural Suffolk. Its rich history of ghost stories has inspired his tales - stories that don’t spring from the cosy shires but have crawled their way up from Hell itself.
Visit Simon at: www.facebook.com/HorrorAuthorSimonParker
Twitter@horrorword
Photo by Rob & the team at Total Photography
www.total-photography.co.uk
Also available from Foundations, LLC
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