by Billy Young
He turned to run, staggered, falling hard. He rolled over onto his back as she kneeled beside. He lay there transfixed by her cold white eyed, merciless gaze. His terror smelt so delicious to her as she cocked her head to one side childlike, before she gave her scream that sent ice through his blood and a cold sweat running from every pore on his rotund frame, eyes wide from the horror he heard in that scream, like the scream of the damned a thousand fold. At that she had taken his soul, reaching into his torso, tearing it from him; freezing the horror he felt on to his flabby disgusting features, as she took her first captive.
It had seemed too quick though, which had just fed her rage all the more. This had sent her screaming through the woods till dawn and the light of a new day had forced her to retreat to her dungeon with her prize still held firmly in her claw like hands.
She had wanted more, so much more. Her dissatisfaction all the greater with the fatigue she felt from the night of uncontrolled rage. It was for this reason she had drained his soul so much. She had learned from that night not to let the anger get away from her. To control it; learning to use it to exact her revenge on those that had accused her falsely. Each one being added in turn to her collection, to feed and strengthening her as she continued to seek them out, in the darkness of the winter nights.
Into her mother’s jar, her anchor she placed each, trapping them. Damning them to never find the rest they had denied her; feeding from them as she tormented them with visions of hellish nightmares for their wrong doings. With each one she grew more powerfully malevolent as she drew on the fear and anguish they experienced in their new world inside the jar of putrefying pickled eels sealed in by her mark carved into the cork lid, the symbol of the banshee that held an echo of her scream to add torment to those trapped within.
Chapter 9
“Hurry and drink up,” Micky swallowed the last of his tea, glancing at his watch again as he stood at the kitchen sink. He quickly rinsed out his cup, leaving it on the draining broad to put it away after lunch.
“What’s the time?” Andy asked as he to drank up his brew then copied Micky in cleaning his container.
“Just going on to ten,” Micky said picking up his coat from where he had left it hanging on a chair before heading into the locker room to put it away in his assigned receptacle. Andy followed him with his own jacket, to put it away. They collected the tins of paint on their way out of the cabin from where they had left them, by the doorway into the building.
“Where do we get brushes by the way?” Andy looked to Micky as they headed towards the gate.
“Oh shit almost forgot,” Micky began, “here you take the paint I’ll go get the brushes I’ll catch you up.” At that he handed his pot and paint brush to the taller man, turned to trot off back into the cabin.
He head for the cupboard at the back of the staff building, next to the toilets. Inside he found what he needed, two brushes, as well as a roll of black bags and a shovel for the work they had now to do. He put the plastic bin liners into his pocket then leaned the other items over his shoulder to more easily carry.
He walked speedily to catch up with Andy, finally joining him just outside the walled garden that had been renamed The Fort of Doom by the park management. All the rides inside had similar fearful names, though they were not as terrifying as they might have sounded.
Andy continued with the paint on seeing Micky was loaded down. “Lucky you reminded me,” Micky gave a big sigh as he said this.
“It would just have meant that we’d have just had to go back and get them wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, but this way we look good,” Micky smiled.
“But would they not realize we were having a break for tea?” Andy knew they were only allowed a lunch break so didn’t want to get into trouble for taking an unofficial break.
“Yeah, but they don’t mind as long as you don’t take the piss with it,” Micky happily replied. “You’re a bit of a worrier aren’t you?”
“That’s what my friends keep telling me,” Andy pursed his bottom lip out thoughtfully.
“Well they’re right,” Micky nudged his companion in the side with his elbow which brought a smile to Andy’s face.
They turned into what had once been the big house’s stables but now served as a restaurant and offices for the theme park, though there were other places to eat throughout the sprawling theme park such as the House of Glass in the walled garden, which was a large old Victorian brick based wooden framed green house.
They entered through the middle doorway, took the stairs on the right ascending to the top floor. They head right, down the corridor past the male toilets to the door at the end of the passageway, entering without knocking.
Inside the office behind a large desk sat the secretary who looked up as they entered. “Just dropping the paint off as instructed,” Micky said smiling widely at the little woman with glasses.
“Oh, okay if you just leave them over there,” she pointed to below the window.
Andy dumped the paint with brushes on top before they exited the office and headed back down the stairs. Outside into the sunny courtyard, chairs and tables sat at one end ready for customer to enjoy the fine cuisine with a refreshing drink, whilst their offspring played in the sandpit nearby under their watchful gaze or played on the activity swings.
They turn right out of this oasis toward the old stone bridge that led to the entrance to the park. Over the bridge on a large lawn a circus tent stood with its accompanying caravans hidden neatly to the rear of it beyond this the large manor house, that acted as a hotel as well as museum, stood almost hidden in the forest that stretched through and around the whole park. They passed this, waving to one of the travelling entertainers as they did, who nodded in turn.
The day had warmed up nicely, though the slight breeze still had a chill to it making it much colder in the shadows cast by the trees, as they passed the side road that took guests up to the front of the big house.
“We’ll start brushing the other side of the pay booths,” Micky stated.
“You mean where the folk queue up?” Andy queried.
“Yeah, that way it looks tidier as they punters come in, mind you it won’t take long for them to mess it up again,” Micky sounded weary at the thought.
“How don’t they use the bins?” Andy motioned at the waste receptacles at both sides of the entrance.
“Some do but just as many don’t give a damn,” he shook his head as he answered putting the objects he’d been carrying down but still using his body to support the utensils. “Anyway here’s some bags for the rubbish, you start over there,” he handed Andy some bags from the roll then took one off for himself pushing the rest into his belt. As Andy turned to go he nudged him with one of the brushes, “you forgetting this?”
“Oh, right,” Andy looked sheepishly at Micky as he took the brush.
“Not get much work done without it,” Micky smiled.
“Yeah.”
“After all you don’t want me doing it all,” Micky joked.
“Why not I could supervise make a change from you,” Andy came back unexpectedly, sending Micky into a loud guffaw of laughter.
They passed through the gap between the pay booths. Micky left the shovel leaning against one of the wooden structures. A large car parking area sat on their left whilst in front the long driveway continued through the wood to the, out of sight, front gate and the main road to the nearest town of Galston.
They swept the dead decaying leaves up with the wind blown rubbish that had collected over the winter into two large piles that the men squeezed into one of the bags they had for the job before they turn to clearing between the booths.
“What do we do with the bags?” Andy asked after they filled another.
“Well, I suppose we leave them here for now and get them later before lunch,” Micky said thinking about how best to deal with the rubbish, “and then we’ll come back and take them up to the skip behind the cabin when we go fo
r lunch.”
“Okay,” Andy said happily, “when is lunch today by the way?”
“About the usual half twelve.”
“So you’ll not be driving for a late lunch like yesterday,” Andy referred to the previous day humorously.
“Maybe you should just get some work done first or are you just going to leave it to me,” Micky smiled broadly.
“Why not?” Andy cheekily answered with an equally bright face as they returned cheerfully to brushing once again.
Chapter 10
As the sun began to shine more strongly through the hazy sky, she hid in her dark, damp secret room. She cursed the day for it was her least favourite time as it trapped her. She loved the night when she could sally forth from her cell to bring fear to those who were foolish enough to come to close to her domain; stalking them if they entered the forest, like a hunter his prey.
Fear had spread across the Irvine Valley as she sought her revenge against those who had told falsehoods against her. It was something she had not thought of or cared about, fingers though began to be pointed, after all witches don’t work alone was the talk. Only one had dared to stand up for her, to try and save her, her Minister; so they had accused him as before they had her.
It didn’t take long for some to start to speak ill of the Reverend Adams. He had been good friends with the witch and her mother before she past away and hadn’t he called her his child; so the gossips twisted things. So they thought he must have been in league with the evil that had spread through the glen, as he couldn’t have been so unaware of what the witch was up to, as it was his business to protect them from such wrongs. He should have known.
She knew though that this was the work of the laird, she also knew that his time would come, she was sure of that. There was little she could do to stop the wrongful words spreading other than from continuing her task of hunting down those in the pay of the laird; she knew all to well that they would have their pound of flesh whether or not she hunted the true evil of the glen or not.
So it was that the old clergyman was arrested, this time the charges were brought by the neighbouring parish after numerous complaints filtered back to the young Minister of that congregation. So an ecclesiastical tribunal was called to look into the most serious of allegations.
The old Adams was not imprisoned though he was confined to his home, not allowed to attend church or hold service. The old man felt lost with nothing to tend to. He’d been a Minister for so long that life seemed so empty without the church business to fill his time.
His health had been bad but now grew worse with the lack of purpose to keep him going. Winter drained him all the more as drafts rattled around his home next to the church. With them came the chills to weaken him further, as did the dire news of more deaths that couldn’t be explained. His house keeper found him as December’s cold hand came across the land, his face showing he had drifted off in his sleep, peacefully. Few were sad to see his passing, as the many hoped that this would bring an end to the dreadful troubles.
She readied herself for another foray in the night; it mattered not if she found one of those she hunted. For this night she planned to find out where the inquisitor had set up lodging on his return to the area. She had no other plans for this despised figure as yet but she knew of his return for the last victim to be drawn into the torment she made for them.
As darkness fell she sensed a presence though could not see who or what it was at first. The feeling persisted keeping her from leaving to fulfil the task she had for the night. She began searching, still nothing other than the awareness that something was watching.
As she re-entered the kitchen a shadow moved in the corner. “Who is it? What is it you want?” she demanded, readying herself to attack the intruder in her screeching fury.
At first there was no answer; then the old clergyman took form before her. His eyes showing the kindness she remembered so well as she grew through her short life.
“Why have you come?” She asked bitter at the memory of what she had lost and knowing he to was now lost to her too.
“Oh, what have you become my dear child?” Sadness tinged the words, pulling at her.
“I…” She didn’t know how she could explain.
“You can not continue this vengeful murderous existence you have chosen, you must give up and allow yourself the peace that the lord offers,” she could feel his words had power to free her but the darkness that she had dwelled in prevented her from the light he offered.
“How is it you are here?”
“It is simply my time as it was yours.”
“No it was not my time, they took everything from me and for what?” Her hatred grew at the thought of all they had taken from her as the shadows grew around her.
“You must forgive them,” he hoped he could convince her before he crossed over that somehow he might be able to bring her tranquillity so she could find the rest she needed, to find an escape to the damnation she now brought upon herself.
“Forgive,” she mocked, “for plotting to send me to the death of a witch and for what so the laird could get back his little bit of land, that his father gave to my mother for the kindness she showed him.”
“The laird,” he showed his surprise at this news, as it had never crossed his mind that the laird could have been involved in the accusations.
“Yes the one that set them all against me as well as you,” anger now mixed with the words along with a cold tempered hatred.
“You can’t believe this to be true, who told you such lies?” The troubled soul of the minister showed the shock of this revelation.
“I heard it from his own mouth, the night I took my first soul,” she gloated venomously.
It dawned on him what she was saying. He also knew what she planned to do. “But you can’t, not the laird.”
“And why not? After all he plotted against you too,” pleasure at the look this brought to his face filled her.
He took a moment to answer, “He is you’re half brother so you must forgive him.”
His words were like a bolt of lightning striking deep into her being. She could tell this was the truth, she knew he had no reason to lie.
“Forgive!” She cackled dryly, “and what of his plotting your down fall as well.”
“No matter now, I am beyond his reach now as are you so you must turn away from the evil you have wrought.”
“But still he goes unpunished,” she said coldly.
“It is not for you to seek such things, it is for the Lord,” he beseeched her.
“And that is not enough; I have become the instrument by which justice shall be visited upon him,” the venom grew within her.
“Please, come with me to the light and find forgiveness,” his imploring words found only the stone wall of her soul, which the cruelty she had endured had created within her.
She could feel the sadness that this brought to him yet, she herself was only filled with the need for retribution. He shook his head as his eyes fell to the floor, no words he knew could now reach the girl he had always thought of as in some way his.
He turned then drifted into the shadows and was gone. She knew he had left to find the rest he had wanted for her but knew she could not find until all those she sought was imprisoned in the jar she had found in the shattered remains of happier times.
She remembered without a wisp of regret the old Minister as she placed her jar on a stone plinth that had once acted as a cooling stone when this small oblong room had been used for food storage.
She didn’t need much space for she never slept just waited for the glorious night and her chance to wander freely. She didn’t use the other part of the cellar for from time to time curious children would come in the summertime to explore.
Sometimes she would have fun with them by making noises to scare them; scratching at the decaying wooden wall, which hid her room from the rest of the tiny underground cellar, the door long ago boarded over.
Cha
pter 11
“Did you say something?” Micky said as he turned his head to look up at his friend as he held open a black bag.
“No, why?”
They had made good progress sweeping all the way to the front of the walled garden though they could have easily done more if they had wanted too. Micky kept his younger friend from working to hard though, after all they only got minimal wage for the work so why push themselves as Micky liked to put it.
“I just thought I heard you say something but didn’t hear what it was,” Micky explained looking at his wrist watch, “anyway that looks like it’s about lunchtime so let’s just get the rubbish bags.”
Andy scooped the last of the pile of dead leaves into the half filled black bag. Micky tied the plastic container shut then tossed it to the side of the road next to an already full one, as Andy made to pick up the other one. “What you doing?” Micky asked frowning at the tall youth.
“Getting the bags,” Andy answered wondering what was wrong.
“We’ll get those ones on the way back up,” Micky shook his head, “no need to carry them all the way down to the front of the park just to carry them back and we’ll get the brushes after lunch.” He referred to the cleaning utensils that leaned against the wall.
“Oh, right I didn’t think of that,” Andy felt a little embarrassed at having to be told the obvious and showed a little redness to his cheeks.
They walked slowly back to where they had started a few hours before, the sun in their faces as they sauntered along. They took equally extensive a time on their way back, collecting the six bags of rubbish, enjoying the sun warming their backs as they went, nodding to the circus performer on their way.
“I’ve not seen the maintenance crew much today,” Andy commented.
