THE APPOINTMENT: A chilling ghost story of malevolence and death

by Peppi Hilton

  Whilst she was there, she knelt in front of the altar steps and said a prayer. She wasn’t a religious person, but she had nowhere else to turn, and no one to turn to - and she was desperate. Many people sought God in their moments of desperation and need, where normally they denied his presence - and she was no exception. The church was open to the public, but was deserted when she arrived, although from time to time an occasional visitor would wander in to take a look around.

  Francine browsed amongst the various items which were on offer to visitors, and she picked up a small crucifix plus some prayer books, and a few more book marks with prayers printed on them. She gathered whatever she could, and then put her donation into the receptacle provided. She left with her purchases and went back into town. She went into a café in the hope that she would be able to eat if food were put in front of her. She avoided the French Bistro, as that was too painful to even contemplate, she could never go in there again without seeing Kelly laughing with her at the bar over a glass of wine. Tears sprang to her eyes again as she thought of her poor, dear friend having been taken by that foul, malevolent monster.

  The waitress served her with tea and a toasted ham and cheese sandwich. Francine forced the food down her throat and was having difficulty swallowing. She swilled it down with the tea, knowing that she must eat if she wanted to survive whatever was in store for her. She could hardly bear to think of any of it, but she couldn’t get the vile images of him out of her mind, and Kelly’s painful face as she had crouched behind him like a slave in chains. She wanted it all to go away. She wanted to wake up and find it had been the most dreadful nightmare that for a short while had felt real, just as nightmares often did, but in reality were not. In the twenty first century things like this should not be happening. These are the things that one only expects to read about in a book of horror, or to watch on screen; but never in a thousand years does one expect them to exist on a planet with humans.

  The waitress interrupted her thoughts by asking if she could get her anything else, to which Francine said no. She reluctantly got up to leave, after picking up the bill to pay. The longer she lingered, the more time she had before having to face the problem again. She knew that once she returned to her apartment, the reality of it all would be palpable in the atmosphere, and she could not escape it. The thought filled her with dread, but face it she must.

  15

  IA couple of days had passed and Francine had visited a local jeweller’s shop, to buy a chain to fit the small crucifix which she had purchased from the church. She kept it round her neck day and night, hoping it would offer her protection. She didn’t really know if it would be of any use, but she was frantic and had to try anything. She had also gone out of town searching for more old bibles and prayer books and anything else with religious connotations. She hadn’t wanted to visit the same local shops again for the same kind of products, in case she came across as a religious fanatic, when in actual fact she was the total opposite. But in her despair she had even visited a Catholic church and lit a candle, and purchased some water which had been blessed by the church - holy water in their terms. But she had a need, and that need was to feel there was someone helping her, even if he, or she, could not be seen. Surely if a devil could appear in her midst, there must be room for a God. She had witnessed the unbelievable, and so anything was possible as far as she was concerned.

  She’d had no further visits, since that one horrific appearance of Gottschalk and Kelly. But Francine had to stay on her guard - she dare not hope that he wouldn’t come again. Whilst it was possible that he’d only appeared to her in order to gloat over his triumphs, it was highly probable that he would return for more. His insatiable greed for evil would no doubt need to be satisfied, and who could possibly know how much, or how little, it would take to fulfil that need before he could stop himself. Or, now that he had risen again, who was to say whether his foul and unspeakable deeds would ever end. She was taking every precaution to fight him, and every day would be a new challenge, for only he knew what he had in store for her. But fight him she would, to the bitter end; because surely an end would come – but for who?

  The walls of her entire apartment were covered in religious memorabilia. She had placed saucers containing holy water in various places around each room, and she had put the remainder into a dish which she carried around with her to keep by her side, no matter what room she was in. Wherever she went, it went with her. She’d managed to purchase several more crucifixes of different sizes and placed them around her home, so that if he appeared again she could be certain of one being close at hand. She felt that she had fortified her home in the best way possible to stave off any malicious plans that he had, at least for the time being, but she didn’t know how long it would keep her safe. But one thing for sure - her determination was unshakeable. She would play him at his waiting game, because she was convinced that’s what he was doing - and she would be prepared.

  Francine went back to work, and the pressures of her job kept her thoughts of Gottschalk to a minimum. And whilst he was always there, hovering in the background of the corners of her mind, she was still completely focused on her work once she got into court. That’s when he ceased to exist, and that was some consolation at least.

  Another week had passed with no hint of him in her life, but she remained vigilant. Her expectation of another appearance was constant. She knew it was just a matter of time.

  It was Thursday evening, and she had arrived home late from an exceptionally busy and trying day in court. She’d had to miss the gym, and had brought back a takeaway for tea. She locked the door behind her, threw off her shoes, and walked into the kitchen. Lifting a plate from the cupboard, she popped the takeaway meal onto it, poured herself a glass of water, and sat down to eat. At that moment she heard the sound of her mobile phone beeping from her bag, alerting her to an incoming text message. She ignored it until she’d finished her meal. After clearing the table and washing the plate, she took her phone out of her bag and opened the message. Cold shivers ran instantly through her body at what she saw, and she couldn’t quite take it all in. The message was clearly coming from Kelly. But how could it be when she had fallen victim to the depravities of Gottschalk? And even though Francine knew that Kelly’s phone had been disconnected, there was no mistaking that it was her number against her name, which was highlighted on the face of her mobile phone. The message was even more chilling: Evil spirits attach themselves to you and all who intervene. She read it over and over again, her mind numb as she tried to work it out.

  Could it be a warning from Kelly? Could she somehow have managed to speak to her from the grave? Francine was confused, and her body was trembling. Her brain seemed to have shut down, and all sense of reasoning had somehow failed her. Her mind was being bombarded with thoughts racing around in her head and not making sense, and she no longer knew the answers.

  It couldn’t be real, surely? Perhaps it was a trick of the mind, because she was tired? But now she was sounding like Kelly – total denial!

  Her head felt like it was spinning out of control, and she threw the phone back into her bag, refusing to believe that she had seen it. Maybe if she checked it again later, the message wouldn’t be there. But now she was sounding irrational. She was going into denial – and that could be dangerous. To deny the truth would be playing into his hands, and letting her guard down. She would be allowing his plans to strengthen against her, and that could only weaken her resolve, thereby breaking down the barriers that she had so cleverly put between them. Surely he was using Kelly for that purpose, and that purpose alone, and she must not let him win. As always, when trying to work out a scenario, she would liken the situation to a court case when the fight was between the prosecutor and defence lawyers. The prosecutor – the attacker - was always the most aggressive, the most cruel and cunning. He almost always began with the upper hand, and it took stamina, intuition, and clever manipulation, to twist and turn the facts in order t
o win. But even with everything pointing to success, so did he often fail. The defence – the one being attacked - often took a milder stance, a steady, methodical, but equally determined standpoint; at times even appearing to be doomed to failure. But with sheer skill and perseverance, he could prove to be triumphant.

  She must think of Gottschalk in that way, and do what she would do in court: be ready and prepared and leave nothing to chance.

  She went to bed early, left her lights on, and made sure all her protection was in place. Her crucifix was fastened firmly round her neck and a larger one was under her pillow, and she had the dish of holy water on the bedside table. She hoped that having taken all the precautions, she would sleep undisturbed.

  The same ritual took place night after night and continued for a week: no contact, just waiting. She knew he was trying to wear her down playing a cat and mouse game. But she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. It was tough, she was scared - sometimes so much, that she couldn’t stop shaking with terror; but she didn’t intend to give in. There were times when she believed that her fortified apartment had made it difficult for him to get anywhere near – and that maybe that was why he hadn’t returned. So if she kept it that way, perhaps he could never return, and would finally give up trying. But she wasn’t going to risk making a single mistake, by simply believing what he might want her to believe. It was more likely that his absence was part of the overall plan. He was a predator, and she was part of his sickening game-play and could easily fall victim to his cunning. She had to stay alert, and she had to stay on top of her game.

  Her apartment was the court in which she was fighting for someone’s life – only this time, that life was hers.

  But as the weeks passed by and still no signs of him, Francine grew steadily weary. She wasn’t eating and she was losing weight. Her concentration was being greatly affected and she was struggling to do her job. She finally had to take sick leave, as she simply wasn’t strong enough to fight for her clients. And so the bulk of her time was being spent in her apartment, waiting for him. But as the days slowly passed into nights, and nights turned into weeks, the sheer strain of waiting was getting to her. She was almost willing him to appear. She wanted him to get it over with, put her out of her misery, come out in the open and fight her – she needed him to break the silence.

  When she had almost reached breaking point, she could stand it no longer. She screamed into the empty atmosphere, “COME OUT OF HIDING YOU DEVIL. COME AND FACE ME, YOU EVIL SADISTIC BASTARD.” She began to tear down some of the pages from off the walls. “COME ON! I’LL MAKE IT EASY FOR YOU, YOU F***ING COWARD” She began to use expletives which were not usually in her vocabulary, but she was losing control and she knew that’s what he wanted. But in her irrational, raging mood, she felt no fear. The pages were lying scattered on the floor, as she continued to strip away at the protection she had spent so much time creating for herself. And then as quick as a second, she saw the shadowy outline of his ugly skeletal frame, as it flashed in front of her, before disappearing just as quickly.

  She stopped what she was doing and looked around the room, expecting him to appear behind her, at the side of her, in front of her – she was spiralling out of control. And she yelled into the space once more: “YOU CAN’T DO IT, CAN YOU? YOU CAN’T F***ING DO IT! NOW WHERE’S YOUR POWER? YOU CAN’T EVEN CRAWL OUT OF YOUR FILTHY SADISTIC PIT, YOU PSYCHOTIC MONSTER!” Her voice was becoming hoarse as she desperately tried to lure him out of his hiding place.

  She waited, breathless and motionless. Was this just a trick, or was he really struggling to break through the barriers she had created? She didn’t have the answer, but it certainly appeared that way, and a glimmer of hope sidled through the complexities of the myriad of thoughts in her head.

  The hideous outline flashed into the atmosphere once more, and then again, and again, never once lasting more than a split second. He was persevering, but not succeeding, and Francine realised that she had put something in place much stronger than evil - something which even he could not penetrate. And it brought her to her senses. She laughed at him although he could not be seen. She mocked him and taunted him at his failures, wanting to twist the knife into his malevolent mind.

  She began to pick up the pages and attach them to the walls once more, knowing she was safe as long as they were there. Once they were all back in place, she waited. Nothing happened, there was no sign of him and eventually she tired of waiting, presuming he’d disappeared again.

  Until the next time!

  She made herself a coffee and sat at the kitchen table. She thought of the many occasions that she and Kelly had spent together laughing over a bottle of wine, reporting to each other the day’s events. They had planned holidays together, talked boyfriends, arranged days and nights out - the memories were endless. Tears welled up in her eyes and she finally sobbed into her hands, as she recalled the horrific image of Kelly cowering behind him. It was the same image as Kelly had seen, as she’d described to her in such meticulous detail, of the girl from the forest.

  She missed her friend dreadfully.

  Another two weeks passed, and Gottschalk continued to stay away. This only added to the perplexities in Francine’s mind, as to whether he could truly be losing the battle against her, or whether it was part of his cunning. Up to now he had proven that his power was stronger than earthly matter, and he couldn’t be got rid of so easily – and certainly not with actions as flimsy as pieces of printed paper. She didn’t really know what she was up against, except this was no fairy-tale horror story of Dracula, or suchlike, whereby a piece of Garlic would keep the vampire away, or a stake of wood driven through the heart whilst he rested would destroy the demon forever. And as her thoughts continued along those lines, the more she convinced herself that he’d be back. Only he knew when, and she was continually kept in the dark, as she waited and waited.

  As time moved on, she grew impatient once more. Her health began to fail. She was weak through lack of nourishment, coupled with the effect that the fear and stress was having on her, which was gnawing at her will-power and weakening her resistance. And even though she knew that the severity of her own actions – not eating to keep strong, was causing her debilitating condition, she was powerless to regain momentum. She couldn’t stomach food, only the bare minimum to keep her alive; she was becoming pale-skinned and irritable through lack of fresh air, social contact, or normality of any kind. And whilst she knew that he was grinding her down slowly, with tactics he had no doubt always used in order to exert his powers over a victim’s mind, she nevertheless seemed to be sliding towards all-out submission. And it was those thoughts which seemed to jolt her back into the real world; a world in which she was used to gaining control, and keeping up the fight to the bitter end. Once again, she would find the stamina to place mind over matter, and play him at his own game. Otherwise he would triumph once more and she would suffer the same fate as Kelly - whatever that fate had been.

  He seemed to know she was ready for the next round, and it wasn’t long before her will would be put to the test.

  That same night, after a fitful sleep, she awoke suddenly. She got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make herself a hot milky drink. As she prepared the drink, she popped the milk into the microwave and then she switched on the kettle to boil some water. She leaned against the table and waited.

  As the kettle began to generate steam into the room, Francine saw the dim outline of the fiendish creature appearing before her. She watched in awe, as the demonic image took form gradually, only a few steps away from her. He had broken through the obstacles she had put in his way, and the eyes seemed to express the twisted, perverted, and sinister delight, that only a malevolent spirit could charge into the atmosphere of the room. He had the ability to relay messages to her of his wicked and malicious mind, by simple thought transference.

  She reeled backwards in terror, as she tried to distance herself from him. She sensed the eyes moc
king her, taunting her with her foolishness at being outwitted by him by believing in her own frail attempts to foil his plan. Evil would triumph – that was his message, loud and clear.

  Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the gaunt, skeletal outline of what he once was, she moved her hand along the worktop and reached for the nearest container of holy water. Securing it firmly in her hand, she picked it up and threw the liquid towards the mocking eyes of the demon before her. She watched in horror at what followed. His whole being began to contort, as if writhing in pain – or as if he were burning in hell. Then gradually, piece by piece, the image dissolved in front of her, his tortured expression remaining firmly fixed in her mind. She was stunned into expressionless silence, unable to move, unable to think, unable to judge. He had gone, but this time was different. The form which had threatened her mercilessly, triumphantly, and wickedly, had ended before her eyes – and all in a matter of seconds.

  She now truly believed that she had found an active weapon, which could be used against him, to destroy him. But unable to believe for certain, that he had melted away in front of her forever, she knew what her next plan of action would be, just in case the inevitable happened and he returned once more. When morning came she would travel to every church she knew of, who could supply her with holy water. She needed to prepare herself with gallons of it, as she had no idea of how much it would take. But she couldn’t risk asking for too much at one place, in case they questioned her intentions. The few drops she had used against him were minimal, but if she could retaliate against him with larger quantities of the blessed water, maybe, just maybe, he would disintegrate altogether.

  The evidence which she had seen was sufficient to make her feel relieved and positive, and fairly confident that she had discovered a powerful defence against him. She was going to rid the world of a monstrous fiend, and ensure he could do no more harm to anyone, ever again. She had fought evil with good, and proven beyond all reasonable doubt, that evil would not prevail.