* * *
Back at the church we decided to have a last smoke for the night in the porch. Al pulled out a box of cigarettes. He lit the end of his and took a drag.
“Aaaah,” he sighed, “that’s better.” I looked over as he took another drag. The end of his cigarette turned a light pink.
“Can I borrow your lighter?” I asked.
I held it in front of me and sparked it up, a big pink flame poured from the top, shimmering in the breeze.
“I’ve gotta go for a piss mate,” I said, after lighting my fag.
I relieved myself against a tree at the edge of the graveyard. I had to leave the cigarette between my lips while I did my belt up and the smoke stung my eyes.
“Alright you’re obviously getting something off it now,” I muttered to myself. “But that’s OK, you knew what it was when you took it; that’s probably all you’re gonna get. You won’t be sleeping tonight but it’s Sunday tomorrow so you can stay in bed all day.”
I walked slowly back over to find Al, picking my way through the gravestones. They looked different now- bigger than they had before and more menacing. Probably down to the changing silhouette from the moving of the moon. The stone angel stared at me.
I kept repeating those same words to myself, “That’s probably all you’re gonna get. That’s probably all you’re gonna get.”
I walked back through the doorway into the porch. Al was gone. I’d only been away for a minute, fuck knows why he couldn’t have just waited for me.
“Luuuuuuuuuuu.” I heard from behind.
As I turned around I saw a figure lumbering towards me from the graveyard. I couldn’t recognise the face but I recognised the jacket. It was Gaz, GBH Gaz, come to take revenge on me for not even having the decency to try to return his jacket. He knew where I lived, fucking hell he’d even been round my house. Surely it wasn’t too much for me to expect him to make the effort to come and get it. It’s too late for explaining now I thought.
Panic gripped me and I did the only thing I could; running back out through the door and into the graveyard, and ducking down behind a headstone where I couldn’t be seen.
“Luuuuuuuuuuu! Where are you?!” Gaz shouted, standing in front of the doorway and blocking out the only light I had that wasn’t from the cosmos.
I crawled away between the stones as quietly as I could until I knew I was out of sight, then got back onto my feet and shuffled my way through the churchyard, using my hands to see the way. Eventually I found myself at the edge of a big stone tomb. I shimmied round it and crouched down, using it for cover, all the while listening out for terrible Gaz....
Nothing. No voices. No footsteps. Just me and whoever was buried in the tomb. I tried to make out the inscription on it but the weather had worn it away.
A pink glow appeared from within the tomb, as faint as it could be. I concentrated my eyes on it and saw the silhouette of a man form; like a shadow on the night. As I stared it sat up, then slowly through the different shades of black a hand moved up to the outline of a head, and a pink pipe appeared in its mouth.
Then a voice parted my company with the silence of the night, “Where are you Lu?”
The clouds above spread. Leaving me illuminated, cowering under the scornful eye of the werewolf moon. I turned away so it couldn’t see me and again saw the old man in the grave with the pipe. Who did I know who smoked a pipe? I knew someone; that I was sure of.
Ship had smoked a pipe, all those years ago. Was this thing next to me the ghost of Ship? Was it his spirit? Was this why his boat had never been finished, because he’d died? Maybe we were the last people he spoke to; maybe that was why he was haunting me, for using him then deserting him like that. I had to get away.
“Luu!” Sounded out in the background.
I got on my hands and knees and crawled between the headstones until I was in the field behind the church, checking to make sure the old man hadn’t followed. He hadn’t.
So now I just had to get rid of Gaz. I couldn’t reply or he’d know it was definitely me, my best chance was to make a noise that would scare him away. If I made the noise at the very edge of the field then laid down, and he did decide to chase after me, the odds were he would run straight past.
I took several deep breaths in succession. “Arrrggghhh!” I shouted as bloodcurdlingly as I could, as though I were a pig being slaughtered.
I dived into the ditch at the edge of the field like I’d planned, and waited. No one followed. I waited an age longer. Still no one came. Silence. I was alone.
Phew.
I tried to calm myself down; my heart was racing and trying to breathe quietly had only compounded the problem. Then to the right of me I caught a glimpse of something pink. The old man with the pipe was back. The shock took my breath away. I was alone with him now, it looked like Gaz was gone. I knew I should have been happy that I wasn’t being chased but I also felt abandoned, whatever the pipe smoking ghoul was it had me all to itself. Fuck, what if Gaz had been trying to protect me? I might have just scared away the only friend I had.
The tops of the gravestones in the churchyard began to curl over and melt, bending in on themselves in the dark and swaying with the breeze. I reached out to try and touch one to see if it was simply my eyes playing tricks on me, and my outstretched arm bowed to and fro.
Now I was in trouble.
Looking up at the church itself, the stone walls breathed in and out; a sickening bending as the whole side of it seemed to lose form. At the very top the tower swayed gently in the wind. Pulling my phone from my pocket, doubtful I’d have any signal but knowing I could use the light from its screen to guide my way out of here, I pushed a random key on the front and the facia lit up green, the light moving and swirling as the churchyard breathed in and out with me.
I crawled away not knowing where I’d go to, just hoping there was somewhere better than this. As I turned the corner, in the distance I could see the yellow streetlights of the main road. I got back onto my feet, still ducked down out of sight and made off towards the lights; then after about ten paces I bashed my head against a bench.
Eyes watering from the pain I stopped to get my bearings.
The devil’s door.
Al and I had come to the churchyard to smoke when we’d been fifteen, hiding in the bushes at the back near the field. He’d pointed the door out to me then. When Al was a lot younger another kid- Kieran had lived in the village; Al had told me the pair of them often came here to play. The big pair of oak doors were at the opposite end of the church to the altar, where Jesus hung on his cross. They thought that Jesus owned that end of the church and so the devil must own the other, thus the devil’s door. The story went that if you knocked three times the doors would swing open and the devil would come out and drag you to hell. One time Al and another kid had persuaded Kieran to knock twice, then had grabbed his arm and pretended they were going to make him knock again. It was only when he started sobbing uncontrollably that they’d let him go. It was a stupid story that kids make up to scare one another. Probably. And anyway, how can you believe in the devil if you don’t believe in god?
I looked around once more to check if pipe man had gone. He probably hadn’t, but I couldn’t see him. I felt safe, a petrified kind of safe. I knew evil still lurked but at least I couldn’t see it now. I just had the doors to watch, while I waited for the ringing pain in my head to clear so I could get back to heading towards the lights. From nowhere I realised I was crying.
A banging noise that sounded like it came from within the church startled me. Then another banging noise, this time definitely from inside the church. I hunkered down on the floor, trying to conceal myself under the bench in the blackness. Beneath me, long blades of grass swayed in the breeze, tickling my tear soaked chin.
Bang. Bang. Then the unmistakable sound of dry metal being dragged against itself.
Oh please no.
I lay as low as I could, staring unblinking at the terrifying d
oors while wiping tears from my tragic eyes.
A thin crack of light appeared between the devil’s doors. No, please. Then the light spread slowly around the edges of the frame. I did my best not to breathe so I might not be heard; all the while my heart fought against me as it tried to hammer its way through my ribcage, in a last ditch attempt to get away.
The doors opened more, bright so-bright. I hadn’t knocked but still they widened, light-blinding. Cold sweat dripped from every pore, sweat laced with fear. I cowered; revolted; when through the white light glow appeared the outline of a heavenly figure. Thin with long flowing hair, tall and living elegance, basking in the white light from behind. Forever he seemed to stand there spiritual.
“Luke,” he spoke slowly and composed, words soft like silk. “Are you OK?”
“Y-yes thank you,” I said.
“Good. I’ve been lying in bed half the night worrying about you two, I didn’t know if you’d be OK. Do you know where Al is? I thought I heard someone crying.”
It was George. Good bloke that he was had come back.
“Al?” I said, drying the tears from my face with my sleeve.
“I’ll take you home mate, he’s not in the church. I’m sure he’s probably gone home himself.”
I returned partly to reality in the car on the way back to mine. I think the light and George’s company helped to put everything into perspective, although I was still having trouble with the things I was seeing. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that I was out of that graveyard.
When we got back to mine I said thanks to George and sneaked into the garage. Where I spent the remainder of the night with my eyes shut but wide awake. What a fucking night.
Fortunately at some point after the sun came up I fell asleep.
Church Group Page 55
