The Haunting of Briarwych Church

by Amy Cross

  Finally, reaching the door, I look at the darkness ahead. Already, I can smell lingering wisps of smoke, and I fancy that I can feel some residual heat in the air too. Nevertheless, I know that I must face Lizzy, so I step inside and wait again for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  I see her immediately.

  She's kneeling on the floor, about halfway along the corridor, almost completely hidden by shadows. She has her side to me, and she seems to be sobbing, so I take a couple of cautious steps forward.

  I wait, but she does not react at all to my arrival.

  “Lizzy,” I say finally, my voice sounding so harsh and damaged after all the smoke that I inhaled. “What are you doing here?”

  She mumbles something in reply, but I don't quite manage to make out the words.

  “Lizzy,” I say again, stepping a little closer, “I need you to look at me. Can you do that?”

  I wait.

  She remains slumped on the floor, barely visible in the darkness.

  “Can you even hear me?” I continue. “Lizzy, can you -”

  Suddenly she turns and looks at me, her face filled with fear. And in that same moment, her entire body is pulled backward along the corridor until she disappears into the shadows. She lets out a faint cry – half a cry, really – before falling silent again.

  I open my mouth to call out to her, but for a few seconds I am struck dumb. Then, realizing that something seems to be terribly wrong, I take a few steps forward until I can once again – just about – see her.

  She is once again slumped on the floor, although this time she is sitting up just a little and she is close to the church's gray stone wall.

  “Lizzy,” I say cautiously, “I -”

  “She made me do it!” she blurts out, her voice filled with anguish and pain. “She made me, I didn't want to but she made me! She made me do it all!”

  “What, Lizzy?” I ask. “What did she make you do?”

  “I didn't want to,” she sobs, as tears run from her eyes and mucus glistens beneath her nose. “You must believe me, Father Loveford! I didn't -”

  Suddenly she turns her head slightly, as if she heard something in the darkness.

  “I didn't!” she whimpers. “Stop saying that!”

  “Lizzy, you're imagining things,” I tell her. “You're not -”

  “I didn't want to do it!” she yells, and suddenly she leans forward and bangs her head against the wall.

  “Lizzy!” I shout. “Stop!”

  “I didn't want to do any of it!” she screams, turning to me. There's now a cut on her forehead, just above her left eye, and it's clear now where her earlier bruises must have come from. “She made me, Father Loveford,” she sobs. “She made me do all those wicked, wicked things!”

  “Are you talking about your mother, Lizzy?” I ask. “You must have loved her very much. I can tell that, but your mother... I am sorry, but your mother is dead, and you cannot take it upon yourself to punish those you deem responsible. Only God can stand in judgment upon their souls, and you must trust that he will see their true natures when the time comes.”

  I wait, but she's simply staring at me now. There are still tears on her cheeks, and her bottom lip is trembling.

  “You mustn't listen to the voice,” I continue, taking another step forward. “The voice is in your head.”

  Again I wait, and again she says nothing.

  This time, however, I realize after a moment that I can hear a faint scratching sound, like fabric being torn or perhaps more like stone grinding against stone.

  Lizzy shudders.

  “Come to me,” I say, as I reach my hand out toward her. “Lizzy, ignore the voice in your head and come to me.”

  She mumbles something, but once again I can't make out any of the words.

  The scratching sound continues and, if anything, seems to be getting a little louder.

  “It's over now,” I say, stepping closer to Lizzy. “I shall get you the help that you need. Do you understand?”

  She twitches, and then she leans forward slightly, out of the shadows.

  “I'll help you,” I continue, “and -”

  Suddenly I stop, as I realize that I can see something moving in the shadows directly behind Lizzy. I open my mouth to ask what's happening, but then I squint slightly as I start to make out a shape.

  Two hands.

  Two pale, thin hands are reaching out from the darkness and digging their fingertips against Lizzy's back, grinding so hard and so deep that they're cutting through not only the fabric of her dress but also through the skin.

  And on each hand, five sharp nails scratch against Lizzy's bones.

  “What is that?” I whisper, as I feel my chest tighten with fear.

  “I'm so sorry,” Lizzy sobs, leaning a little further forward. “She made me do it. She made me do all of it.”

  The hands reach further out of the darkness, to keep scratching her, and in the process I see a face start to lean into the light. In an instant, I see that the face is thin and pale.

  “She made me kill the poor man at the airbase,” Lizzy whimpers, as the ghost of her mother grimaces and digs her fingertips harder against the bone, “to silence him. She made me steal the petrol. She told me to wait, she said eventually everyone would come to church, and that then I'd be able to avenge her death, but...”

  She winces, as if she's in the most terrible pain.

  “But I failed her,” she continues finally, turning to me. “I was weak, I let them go. Don't you see now?”

  “Lizzy, come to me,” I say firmly, determined to get her away from this specter. I tell myself that this cannot be Judith Prendergast, for the woman is dead, yet I cannot deny what is right in front of me. “Lizzy, hurry. Lizzy! Now!”

  I keep my head outstretched, but Lizzy merely twists around slightly as the scratching sound continues.

  Staring at Judith Prendergast's face, I see that her features are contorted into an expression of pure hatred as she watches the back of her daughter's head. Indeed, as her grimace becomes even tighter, the scratching sound becomes more pronounced.

  “Lizzy, get away from her immediately!” I shout, filled with panic as I rush forward and grab the poor girl's arm. At the same time, the air seems to turn bitter cold. “Lizzy! Now!”

  “I'm sorry,” she sobs, turning to me. “Father Loveford, I'm so, so sorry.”

  “If you -”

  Before I can finish, Judith Prendergast turns and stares straight at me. I am briefly taken aback by the hellish sight of her dead black eyes, and then suddenly she lunges at me, screaming like a creature risen up from the depths of Hell.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Lizzy!”

  Startled, I sit up and find that I am in the dark corridor. The air all around me is cold, but not as cold as before. Dazed for a moment, I cannot quite remember what happened, but then the memories come flooding back and I recall the sight of that terrible face rushing at me, and then...

  And then what?

  I fell back, and I think I must have knocked my head. I have no idea how long I was out, but I must have fallen unconscious, at least briefly. The night outside is still dark, so not too much time can have passed. As I stumble to my feet, however, I feel a pulsing pain in the back of my head, and I reach around to find that there seems to be a bruise. I must indeed have knocked myself out, but when I turn and look over my shoulder I see that the church's door is shut.

  Did I close that when I came inside, or did somebody else?

  I hesitate, before seeing that the door leading up to the bell-tower is open. That, I am sure, was shut earlier, and when I head over and look up the stairs I immediately hear a timid, terrified, sobbing voice coming from up in the tower itself.

  “Lizzy?” I call out, before starting to hurry up. “Lizzy, wait! I'm coming!”

  I slip several times, but finally I get to the upper floor and then I start scrambling up the narrowing staircase that leads to the very top of the
tower. The sound of the distant voice is momentarily replaced by the sound of my own breathless gasps, but finally I fall out into the tower and see the terrible sight of Lizzy standing in one of the archways, silhouetted against the starry night sky as if she intends to leap from the tower.

  I look around, but there is no sign of Judith Prendergast.

  “Lizzy,” I stammer, turning back to her. “It's me. I need you to come away from the edge.”

  I wait, but she does not reply.

  “Lizzy!” I say more firmly, as I look around once again for any sign of that terrible, dead face. “Lizzy, we can work out later what has happened, but right now I need you to get down from there. Do you understand? It's dangerous.”

  Still not seeing any sign of Judith Prendergast, I edge across the tower until I am just a few feet behind Lizzy. I want to reach out and grab her, but as I look at the back of her head I cannot help but fear that she might take my movement as her cue to jump.

  “Let me help you,” I continue, as I start to very slowly reach out for her wrist. “Lizzy, things might seem bad now, but there's a way out of this. For a start, you needn't worry about what happened at the airbase. You have my solemn vow that I shall breathe not one word about any of this to Corporal Bolton. He'll never find out that you were responsible. Maybe that's wrong of me, but I won't let them get their hands on you. I just can't. They'd...”

  They'd kill her.

  I shan't say that to her, but it's true.

  They'd try her for treason and they'd hang her.

  “Come down with me,” I tell her, as my hand edges closer to her wrist. I'm just inches away now, yet I fear what she might do when she feels my touch. I must move firmly and decisively.

  I start counting down from three.

  Two.

  Suddenly hearing movement over my shoulder, I turn and see Judith Prendergast standing just a a few feet away. Instantly, my blood turns cold.

  “You're not real,” I whisper, trying desperately to convince myself. “You can't be real.”

  Her black eyes are fixed on Lizzy, and after a moment she takes a step toward us.

  “You're not real!” I shout, although I can hear the tremor in my own voice. “In the name of all that's holy, I know that you cannot be real!”

  She takes another step closer, and the air temperature dips noticeably around us.

  “Stay back!” I snap. “You will not come anywhere near her, do you hear? You will not take so much as one more step!”

  With her gaze still fixed on Lizzy's back, Judith Prendergast takes another step toward us.

  “Lizzy, you must get down at once,” I say, as I move into position to block the specter's advance. As I do so, I feel the chill air becoming colder still. “Lizzy, do you hear? Climb down from that ledge!”

  Although I now have my back to her, I can tell that Lizzy has not done as she's told. I'd hear if she climbed down, but after a moment I feel the back of her dress fluttering in the breeze, brushing briefly against my shoulder. I want to turn and grab her, but I worry that by doing so I might cause her to fall. Besides, I know Lizzy and I am certain that she will not actually jump. To do so would mean certain death, and she would never waste her life in such a manner.

  Judith Prendergast takes another step toward me, moving silently but keeping her black eyes fixed on Lizzy.

  “Stop!” I say firmly. “In the name of the Lord, I command you to stop at once!”

  She stops.

  “The Lord compels you to stop!” I shout.

  Judith Prendergast stares up at Lizzy for a moment longer, and then slowly – and silently – she turns and looks directly at me.

  It is at this moment that I truly see her eyes are empty, for she possesses instead only two black pits that seem to speak of her soullessness.

  “You are an abomination,” I stammer, my voice trembling again with a fear that I cannot suppress. “You are ungodly. Leave this house of the Lord and do not come back. Your transgression here is over.”

  She stares at me for a few seconds, before tilting her head slightly.

  “Flee, dark spirit,” I continue, “for you...”

  My voice trails off as I see a smile slowly starting to spread across her lips.

  “You are an abomination,” I say again, struggling to think of the right words. “You are not right here. By that I mean that you desecrate the very ground upon which you stand and...”

  Her smile is growing.

  It is as if my words cause her nothing but amusement.

  “How dare you set foot in this church?” I ask, but now my voice is almost falling apart with weakness, no matter how hard I try to stay strong. “You are -”

  Suddenly she looks back at Lizzy, and then slowly she raises her left hand and starts reaching past me.

  “Stop!” I gasp, turning just as Judith's pale thin hand touches Lizzy's shoulder. “You cannot do this, you -”

  Before I can finish, Judith places her other hand on Lizzy's back, just beneath the torn and bloodied fabric of her dress, and pushes.

  Lifelessly, helplessly, Lizzy topples forward.

  “No!” I shout, lunging through the archway and desperately trying to grab Lizzy. My right hand almost reaches her ankle, but falls short by a few inches.

  My left hand then manages to grab her other ankle, but in the process I am pulled forward until I am almost all the way out of the bell-tower myself. Somehow I manage to grab hold of the edge and steady myself, but then I look down and see that I am barely managing to hold on to Lizzy as she dangles in the night air. For a moment, I can only stare in horror at the ground far, far below.

  Gasping, I start pulling Lizzy up. I am not a strong man, but in this hour of need I somehow find a strength that I never knew I possessed. I struggle a little, but finally I manage to drag us both back into the bell-tower. Lizzy slumps down against the floor, and I turn and see in the moonlight that her eyes are still open.

  “Lizzy!” I say firmly, touching the side of her face and finding that her skin is so very cold. “Say something! Lizzy, can you hear me?”

  She does not reply, so I quickly check her pulse and find to my relief that she is indeed alive. Catatonic, but alive. Then I turn and look around, terrified in case I might spot Judith Prendergast again, but for now the spectral vision seems to have departed. I look around for a moment longer, still convinced that Judith might at any moment emerge from the shadows, but then I realize that the time for this sort of thing shall come later.

  Grabbing hold of Lizzy, I mumble an apology for my forcefulness and then I begin to gather her into my arms. As I do so, however, I see something slip from her hand. A small, folded photograph lands on the floor, and when I pick it up I see that it shows the stern face of a woman.

  It is the same woman I saw a moment ago, and when I turn the photograph over I see a handwritten scrawl on the reverse.

  One word:

  Mother.

  This must be Judith Prendergast, and it is the first time that I have ever seen her face. In that case, how did I see the face before me when the specter first appeared?

  Unless the specter is real.

  I hesitate for a moment, before realizing that there will be time to come to an understanding later. Forcing myself to stay focused, I finish gathering Lizzy up into my arms, before getting to my feet and carrying her toward the stairs. All I know at this moment is that I have to get her out of here, that once we've escaped the church I shall be able to get her the care that she needs. I shall be able, too, to work out what exactly has happened here tonight. I still believe that the specter – while certainly very vivid and terrifying – cannot possibly be the spirit of Judith Prendergast, yet if that is the case how did I see her likeness before I saw the photograph?

  Struggling to maneuver in the narrow stairwell, I nevertheless manage to get Lizzy down to the next floor, and then the next set of steps is rather easier. Lizzy remains motionless in my arms as I carry her down to the dark corridor, an
d I tell her that everything will be alright as I start hurrying to the door.

  And then I stop, as I see Judith Prendergast standing in our way, watching us black-eyed from a patch of moonlight that lends her face an ethereal, almost glowing pale quality.

  I stand completely still for a moment, with Lizzy still in my arms, as I realize that I have no choice. If I am to get Lizzy and myself out of the church, I must walk straight past the ghost of Judith Prendergast. She is blocking the way, and even from here I can see that same expression of hatred on her face.

  My knees are trembling and might buckle at any moment, but I take a cautious step forward, then another, carrying Lizzy ever-closer to the ghoul.

  “You're not real,” I whisper, hoping to convince myself of that fact and – in the process – to make the frightful vision disappear. “I know you're not.”

  I get closer, and closer still, until I am barely more than half a dozen steps from the woman, with the door another couple of steps behind her, and then I stop. It is as if fear has seized my legs and now keeps me from going any further.

  “You're not real,” I stammer, barely managing to get the words out as I see that Judith Prendergast's hollow eyes remain fixed on Lizzy. “You're... I... you're...”

  I pause for a moment.

  And that's when I realize the truth.

  “You are real,” I whisper. “How would I have known your face before I saw that photograph? You are real and...”

  My voice trails off.

  For a few seconds, I can only marvel at the perverse beauty of this sight. The dead woman stands before me, looking every bit alive save for the miraculous hollows of her eyes. At the same time, the more I observe her, the more I realize that she seems to draw in the light from the air around her, blackening the room. There is something else, though, something about her that chills my soul, and it takes a moment before I finally realize what is wrong: she is not breathing. One does not usually notice other people's breaths, but as I stare at Judith Prendergast I see that her body is completely still. There are no breaths, there is no beating heart.