BANSHEE

By Billy Young

She was the banshee, who sought revenge against those she saw as guilty and deserving of imprisonment in her jar. She had called down the curse on those that sent her to her death, falsely accused of witchcraft. Now she looks for new souls to add to her collection of tortured spirits. At night she would go forth from her derelict cottage to hunt the unwary and now she has her sights set on another two victims to fill her with new power

COPYRIGHT 2008 © William Young

COVER BY W. Young AND C. Young

Smashwords Edition

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ISBN: 978-1-4523-1107-4

All characters, event and places are fictional and any resemblance to any real people, places or events is purely a coincidence.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To those that read this book, it’s dedicated to you; I hope you enjoy the story within.

Other books by Billy Young:

A Winter Journey

Teddy the Bear

Prologue

14^th May 1968

Mandy pulled down on the handle of the hammer prising the cross from the wall. It fell to the floor, leaving its ghostly shadow behind on the wall. It bounced once noisily echoing in the little basement. She had thought they had removed the many crosses from the house but found this one in the cellar on the wooden wall that supported the stairs that led down into the basement as she explore this small underground room.

“Mandy are you down there!” Frankie called down the stairs.

“Yeah I’m just coming!” She shouted back to her boyfriend as she straightened up after retrieving the Christian symbol from the dirt floor. She looked along the wall, she had expected a door to a cupboard yet there had been none. She quickly raced up the stairs to the bare room above, her maxie skirt allowing her ease of movement as her sandals flip-flopped on the stairs, which they planned to make into their kitchen as it had once been in the past.

“What were you doing down there?” Frankie asked. He was dressed just as casually as his girlfriend but in corduroy trousers and a woolly over sized jumper with a zigzag pattern just below the shoulders running across the body of it.

“Just checking it out. I found this on the wall by the stairs,” she handed Frankie the rough wooden cross.

“I thought we’d got rid of all of them, well it will do for firewood,” he said as he broke it in two, dropping it by the old deep sink with its pump handled facet.

“Why do think there were so many?” Mandy furrowed her brow.

“No idea,” Frankie shrugged his shoulders, “maybe it was to keep the ghost at bay.”

“Don’t, you know that sort of thing scares me,” Mandy hadn’t wanted to move into the old house in the woods because it was said to be haunted; only agreeing after all her friends had convinced her there was nothing in the old stories about the cottage, though she still had reservations that she now kept to herself.

“We’re supposed to be meeting the others down the pub for beers,” Frankie smiled broadly at the scolding looks from the slender figure before him.

“Yeah, I just thought I hadn’t seen the cellar so wanted to have a nose,” she explained as they turned to head down the long hallway past the two facing doors half down the passageway, one leading to the front room whilst the other allowed access to the stairs to the upper floor, towards the front door to meet up with their three friends.

Below in the cellar behind the wooden wall the banshee, trapped for so long, knew her imprisonment was over. With those hated symbols removed she was free now to leave the place she now called home in search of vengeance against those foolish enough to have released her. All that stopped her now was the light of day; darkness would come soon enough though.

“Soon,” she said aloud without noticing she had spoken. She thought about the joy she would have with fresh souls to play with. She wandered over to a jar that sat on a granite plinth sticking out of the stone outer wall. She stroked it mischievously watching her ensnared collection of damned souls that had made her who she now was. She felt like screaming out her mournful cry but saved it for she guessed she would need its full force before the night was out.

The years locked away in the confined space had taken a great toll on her as each day melted into the next. She had lost track of how long it had been since last she had called out her wailful song in the moonlight, sending a chill into any who heard it. Now she could once again bring fear and death to those who wandered her woods during the hours of dark.

It was when the old teacher moved into her home in the early nineteenth century, heedless of the warnings that it was haunted, that the banshee had been made the captive. The old teacher had workmen brought in from other towns to sort the place up for her. Helen had tried to scare them off but somehow the old hag had a way of getting them back or finding others to do the work she required.

It was the old schoolmistress who had the room boarded over and a cross placed on every door in the small cottage, locking her behind the wall. It was that old hag that was a true witch, able to imprison the banshee for over a hundred and fifty years as people came then left hurriedly; complaining of strange wailing noises, the only thing the banshee had left to chase them off with.

As time went on she heard less people moving into her dwelling so she contented herself with her jar of souls. Those trapped within grew weaker as she drew her strength from them so she could screech her mournful cry for them, to remind them of the wrong they had done in life.

Night came releasing her from the cell into its embrace. She couldn’t wait to drift through the sweet darkness, between the trees, her senses unable to cope at first with all the things it perceived and she had missed. Slowly she found focus as the long-haired ones returned to her home, as if they could claim it from her.

She waited till they had settled in for the night then drifted back to the cottage. The banshee studied the old structure as she waited for them to go to bed. She finally saw the lights being extinguished so quickly approached, as she knew it would soon be dawn so had to be quick in collecting these spirits or they might escape her clutches.

She struck out at the three sleeping soundly in the old parlour deciding not even to wake them so as not to alert those in the large upper room. She took their souls for her collection without feeling, no time to enjoy her chosen calling.

Mandy woke knowing something wasn’t right so she shook Frankie to half consciousness. “What is it?” He queried blearily, wishing only to get back to the blissful dream he’d been enjoying.

“I don’t know, I’ve just got a feeling that’s all,” she answered looking around the dark room for some sign of what had roused her.

“Oh,” he said coming too at the notion of some action as her naked form brushed against his, “really.”

“Not that kind of….”

Her words was cut short as the ghastly twisted form of the screaming, hellish banshee rose out of the floor like an insidious plant growing out of the soil to steal the life from all around.

Mandy didn’t wait as the thing turned with that soul chilling scream filling the last of the night. She rolled out of the bed and left Frankie to the thing as she rushed for the small window, fear driving her through it without stopping. The small square glass panes slicing her flesh, as they gave as her weight forced its way through them.

She landed hard onto the broken glass covered ground, chilly air all the more noticeable in her naked state. She pushed herself up then began to run as fast as her injuries allowed as the blood oozed from her wounds. She thought she heard the creature coming behind her, a child like whimpering accompanying it as it came for her. Mandy felt it turn to head back where it had come from as the sky lightened and she turned to head down the hill into the town.

Mandy kept going though afraid that if she stopped that it might return. She ran until she collapsed from exhaustion as well as the loss of blood. When they her found lying on the main street, that ran through the small town, she was barely alive but alive she was. She never told anyone what she remembered pretending to have amnesia to avoid the questions of what had happened, though the police had many they had wished she would answer. Eventually everyone stopped asking though the gossip remained.

Soon after she left the hospital she had been taken to, she also left the town she had always known as home.

Chapter 1

Andy trotted after Micky, after colleting his bag from his locker. “Slow up,” he called after his work colleague.

“You’re a bit slow tonight; you’d think you’d actually done some work today,” Micky smiled at the younger man.

Micky was nine years older than Andy and this was his sixth year working for Lyndon’s Castle Theme Park. Over the past two weeks both men had been working to get the park prepared for the new season after it being closed for the winter. They were tasked with all the small jobs around the park that maintenance didn’t have time to do.

“I didn’t think there would be as much to do as there is,” the young student said wearily. At eighteen this was his first job, a chance to earn a little money before he went to college. He stood taller as well as thinner than the stocky form of Micky. Both men wore similar faded jeans, heavy sweatshirts under their jackets and muddy trainers covered their feet.

“Well it gets easier once the park opens, then you’ll find half the time you’re just standing about bored out your skull,” Micky smiled warmly at the new start as they exited the cabin that acted as the staff canteen and locker room.

Outside the late March sun sat low in the cloudless sky as the two men made their way through the gates that separated the cabin from the public part of the park. Onto the main thoroughfare that ran the length of the park, they turned left heading for the rear gates and the back road to the town of New Mills where they called home.

“What’s it like when it’s busy?”

“That’s when the fun starts,” Micky liked it best when it was mobbed with customers. “With some of the punters you get a real scream.” He chuckled to himself at the thought.

“What if they’re kinda, you know, eh…” Andy was unsure if he could deal with a difficult customer.

“Just let them do most of the talking, which they always seem to do but don’t smile, that just makes them worse,” Micky acted as if he were the fountain of knowledge yet knew every situation was different.

“I don’t know what I’d do if somebody were shouting at me, especially if it wasn’t because of something I did,” Andy smiled nervously.

“You’ll be fine just remember to have fun,” Micky had said this to others on previous years though few seemed to get into the spirit of the job as he did. He felt Andy would, he seemed to have that glint in his eye that said he like a good joke.

“Yeah I heard you all talking at lunch. You didn’t really tell the customers they could fall out the Wheel of Death, did you?” Andy grinned widely at the idea of it. The ride he was talking about was up near the log flume at the top end of the park and the rear gate that they now approached.

“Well, there was a black bag in one of the trees and it looked a bit like a jacket flapping in the breeze,” he giggled at the memory of that summer. Most had taken it well laughing away at the joke; some though had been frightened enough without the prospect of being left clinging to a tree.

“I’d never have the nerve to do anything like that,” Andy wished he did.

“Once you get into it, you’ll find it easier if you do have a laugh with the folks going on the rides,” Micky reassured Andy.

They stayed not far from each other in New Mills, so had known each other in passing, because of this it made sense to walk to and from work together.

“Maybe,” Andy looked sullenly down at the ground as they left the park by the so called back gate as there was no gate, just two fence posts with the wood beyond.

They passed into the long shadows cast by the large mature trees that overhung the narrow back road that local teenagers used to sneak a free day in the park during the summer. Often they would cause trouble leading them to get caught but it didn’t stop them coming back.

“The best ones are usually the old women as they just love a good laugh.”

“So what you got planned for tonight?”

“Nothing much, watch a bit of telly with the girlfriend,” Micky answered. “And you?”

“I’ve got a bit of revision for an exam after the Easter break.” Andy was supposed to be at home studying during the past couple of weeks whilst he’d been working at the park. The chance to earn some extra cash though had been too great an opportunity.

“So you’ve got plenty of time then.” Micky pulled his jacket collar more tightly round his neck as it was chilly in the shadowy wood even though the day had been reasonably warm for the time of year.

“Yeah but it’s a lot to take in so I need as much revision as I can get,” Andy tried to sound cheerful though he’d be happier when it was all over with even if he was sure that he could pass it without much effort.

“I’m sure you’ll sail through it,” Micky tried to encourage his young friend.

“I hope so,” Andy raised his eyebrows as he said this; then gave a half grin. He reached into his pocket finding his mobile, his fingers played with it though he didn’t take it out knowing there was little point as there was never any reception in the woods.

They continue, in silence for a short while, along the straight narrow forest road as the sun began to touch the hidden horizon behind the trees. The bluebells swayed as a fresh breeze played amongst the branches of the trees be speckled with new buds ready to explode into the greenery of the not to distant summer.

Micky’s bag moved noisily on his back echoing loudly as the plastic sandwich box bumped against a cup, breaking the quiet peace of the wood. He hoisted it up on his shoulder keeping one hand on the strap to stop it from bouncing around so much.

Ahead an old dilapidated stone cottage with part of its roof missing appeared in the gloom of the forest. Andy looked nervously at the eerie exterior, as the windows seemed to watch as the two men carried on their way. The trees appeared to try to hide the old house, with so many secrets, from view. The small front garden was over grown and the small window of the attic room was glassless.

“That place always gives me the willies,” Andy said with a great exaggerated shiver as if to emphasise how he felt.

“What, the old witchy house,” Micky teased knowing Andy wasn’t alone in that thought, though he thought it was just something made up to keep the local kids from playing around the old house.

“Yeah,” Andy would never have come this way by himself so close to nightfall “you’ve heard the stories?”

“Of course but just cause some hippies away back in the sixties freaked out on acid doesn’t make it haunted,” he chuckled at the thought of the old tale of the drug overdosed hippies being attacked by some sort of evil ghost. He could just picture it in his mind as they got the restless spirit mashed on a big spliff.

“What about all the other stuff that’s happened over the years,” Andy said in a hushed tone afraid that the thing that dwelled in the house, if it were real, might hear.

“Like?” Micky looked slyly up at his young companion, who took the bait.

“There’s the fact that a witch used to stay there,” Andy said then realized he was being goaded for the third time that week and smiled as he shook his head whilst his older friend gave a hearty laugh. “Yeah, yeah okay, I know there’s no such thing,” Andy said feeling stupid at his own feelings of discomfort about the old building.

Chapter 2

She watched the two men as they passed from the upper floor through the attic window. ‘Soon,’ she thought thinking of the revenge she planned to exact on the shorter of the men for his using her home as a latrine. ‘How dare he?’ Her cold white eyes glared angrily as the smaller man laughed out loudly, the warmth of it made her flesh crawl.

It was about time to remind the locals of her presence, to show them that this was her property. It had been too long since last she tasted the fear in someone’s scent as they realized she was more than a myth made up to scare people at Halloween.

The last time long haired fools had thought they could insult her by moving into her ruined dwelling. Though they had released her from many years of imprisonment she still felt little in the way of compassion towards them. It had cost them their souls which she kept hidden in a jar on a stone plinth in the cellar, in the dark secret room hidden by a wooden wall put up to trap her over a hundred fifty years before.

During the day, concealed in her underground place she often heard their tiny voices pleading to be released only to find her ears deafly uncompassionate. She’d smile at their whimpering as she remembered those first glorious years as she stalked the unwary through her woods, punishing those that dared to trespass; she would add to their number soon, as she had added those to her collection who had in life condemned her wrongly to death.

The sun was setting, letting her move more freely around the place she had called home for so long. In the dark of the night she would even go out into the woods hoping some hapless wanderer would overstep their bounds into her domain but seldom did. She sometimes could smell someone near, yet just outside of her reach, beyond her woods. Those that did enter her wood at night seldom hung around for long as if they could sense her near, tracking them.

She sadly looked at the opening in the roof revealing the sky as the stars slowly began to appear in the slowly darkening sky. Remembering how it used to be when she was younger, when life seamed so simple. Her mother had filled the house with laughter during the long candle lit nights of winter. Even in her mothers last day she seemed to fill the house with her light. She dismissed the thoughts of those happy years of life turning back to the darkness that now was all that remained.

How wonderful life had been before her mother’s passing. How happy life had been then and how quickly had it changed when she had died to become so short and filled with hate. She had showed them though, seeking each of the guilty out one at a time to take from them what they had taken from her.

Taking her vengeance as she had promised as they taken all that was hers, even her life everything but this one overlooked glass jar, her mother’s precious jar that she had used to hold her eels pickled in brine. The contents still remained to add to the misery of those entrapped within.

All their fine accusations had meant nothing when she had visited them from the grave, her scream sending fear through every part of their being as she tore their spirits from the bodies they’d inhabited imprisoning them in the glass container to play with, to draw power from; to feed off them.

A leering smile played across her twisted features as she remembered. She eagerly awaited her next play toys but knew she may need to wait; she was patient though she could wait for she knew someday she would catch some unwary fool, her only hope was that it wouldn’t be to long and that it would be the one who had pissed in through her front window into her parlour.

Chapter 3

The street lamps had just come on as they left the woods behind. They made their way down the steep hill, council houses set back, tall, from the street. Gardens held in by hedges, some looking in need of a shave with the clippers.

“So when’s your kid due?” Andy asked.

“August.”

“What you hoping for or do you already know?”

“No, not yet anyway but a boy would be good,” Micky grinned as the thought of playing football during the summer or going fishing with a son would be great. “And you can’t tell much from the last scan, maybe when we get the next one, who knows.”

Halfway down the slope they crossed the road turning left onto Blair Avenue, nodding to someone they knew heading in the opposite direction out of the street then down the hill to get a drink from the nearest pub.

“Yeah,” Andy agreed though he wasn’t sure what scans Micky was referring too. “So when is the next one?”

“Not for another couple of months,” it seemed like an age away. “Then I’ll know whether it’s a boy or girl.”

“Ah well, I hope it’s a wee boy for you and I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Andy said.

“As long as the baby’s healthy that’s all that’s important really,” Micky added.

“Yeah, of course,” Andy nodded his head as he spoke.

“Anyways, I’ll see you in the morning,” Micky said as they reached his front gate half way down the street, “about the usual time then.”

“Half seven,” Andy agreed as Micky turned into his gate. Andy picked up his pace to get home quicker, turning at the end of the street down the hill then left along the main street.

Micky made for the fridge on getting in doors. Dropping his bag onto the worktop as he retrieved a can of beer from the tall white oblong box, he opened the can before closing the door to the cooler.

“Hi babes,” he finally said as he turned to his girlfriend who was stood over a simmering pot of pasta sauce. The pasta sat in the sink where she’d drained it moments before knowing that Micky should be home any minute.

“Dinner is ready if you want it now?” She queried yet knew he’d want to have his drink first. Sometimes she wished he didn’t drink so much but when he was working she felt she had to let him get on with it, after all he was working for it. She just hoped with the baby on the way he’d be a little different.

“In a bit,” he answered predictably as he headed to wash up in the bathroom, beer in hand. He took another swig of the alcoholic fluid before putting it onto the cistern next to the sink. He stripped off his jumper and t-shirt to wash at the sink. Once done he threw his jumper into the wash-basket in the corner but retained his t-shirt after giving it a quick sniff to see how bad it smelled; when he was sure it didn’t smell so bad he pulled it on again certain he could use it for the rest of the night but needed a fresh one in the morning.

Collecting his beer he made his way back to the kitchen. The smell of food, as well as a day in the fresh air, now made him feel hungry. His girlfriend had predicted his thoughts and was already dishing a large pile of pasta onto a plate then spooned the sauce over the top. A bowl with grated red cheddar sat to one side for Micky to help himself, which he did liberally.

“So how was you’re day?” his girlfriend finally asked.

Chapter 4

Andy hung his jacket up over his work bag after taking out his sandwich box and flask before heading into the kitchen to leave them on the table for his mum to see to for the next day.

“That you Andy,” his mother’s voice came from the living room as he opened the fridge door to get a drink of milk from the carton.

“Yeah mum,” he said as he took a drink.

“What have I told you,” his mother scolded as she entered, “get a glass, for crying out loud.” She shook her head at him as she stepped past him to get his dinner ready.

“Sorry,” he sullenly answered putting the milk back in its place in the fridge door then closing it.

“Give me out an onion,” his mum said as she took out her favourite chopping knife from a drawer; at the same time turning on the cooker to heat the frying pan, that sat ready for business, “then you best go get changed.”

He put the onion his mother asked for onto the worktop next to the cooker as his mother looked in one of the nearby cupboards looking for something. Andy left his mother to get on with making his dinner.

He bounded up the stairs to his room to get some fresh clothing then as quickly stomped back down them to head for the bathroom. As he stripped off his dirty clothing he allowed the spray from the shower to heat.

Andy didn’t take long to shower as the smell of his mothers cooking lured him to hurry. He left the bathroom pulling on his t-shirt as he went. “What’s for dinner mum?”

“Hash-browns,” she looked over at her son think to herself that he was growing up to fast, “and I’ve got some chops in the oven.”

“Great I’m starved.”

“You’re always starved,” she smiled knowingly at her boy.

“How long till its ready?” he asked as he got a glass from the sink’s draining board to get himself some more milk as his mother got a plate from the cupboard where she kept her crockery.

“In a minute,” she said as she set the plate on the worktop next to where she was cooking. “So how was work today? Have you been painting again as you did yesterday?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad but we will probably be working late tomorrow to get things ready for the opening on Friday,” he said as he took a drink from the glass.

“Still just you and that Micky?” Andy’s mum didn’t like Micky much thinking he was a bit of a waste of space.

“Yeah,” he answered as his mother began dishing out the food from the frying pan to the plate then stooped to open the oven door as she switched it off at the same time, in a well practiced manner.

Chapter 5

Knocking on Micky’s door Andy stood waiting for his workmate to appear. The sky looked grey overcast yet the weather report was for it to brighten up later but he thought it looked like it could start raining before the morning got much older.

Micky pulled the door noisily shut behind him as he joined Andy. “Hi,” he said simply as he stepped past Andy who quickly followed in his wake.

Micky still felt the effects of the alcohol he’d swallowed the previous night yet it didn’t show on his features even if he had drank more than his usual amount after having a row with his girlfriend.

“So did you have a good night then?” Andy queried just to make conversation.

“Quiet, had a couple of beers, watched the telly then bed. You?” He didn’t really like talking about his personal life so kept it simple so he didn’t need to.

“Not much,” Andy replied, “my mate Joey dropped round so we played FF13 for a bit on the PS3.”

“Thought you had revision to do?”

“Yeah, and I did until Joey turned up,” Andy grinned.

“So I take it you didn’t get much work done then,” stated Micky with a knowing smile.

“Not really,” Andy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly but still with the sheepish smirk.

They turned right onto the steep hill heading for the wooded path that would take them to the park. One or two of the street lamps were still on even though the sun had been up for some time yet the two men took no notice of them.

“Oh, you’ll not pass your exams with that attitude,” Micky jested.

“You sound like my dad,” Andy smiled before adding, “mind you you’re not far off being old enough.”

“Cheeky shit,” Micky said wide eyed and a chuckle of amusement at the younger man’s cheek. They ascended the hill quickly then turned into the tree lined back road.

“So what do you think we’ll be doing today?” Andy queried.

“Well we’ve still got that fence to finish then it will be brushing up before we open tomorrow,” he sounded as if he had resigned himself to some great enduring task.

“I can’t believe we open so soon. It seems like yesterday that we got the induction.”

“Yeah, well that was over two weeks ago now,” Micky reminded him.

They strode on in silence for a short distance towards the old tumble down cottage as the grey skies grew lighter. The fresh breeze, in their faces, gently playing with their hair as they ambled along. Only the clatter of their sandwich boxes rattling in their bags hanging from shoulders and the early morning song of the birds, courting for a mate to be heard.

“See we’ll miss the old firm match on Saturday,” Andy broke the silence between them.

“I’ll have my little radio so I can listen in,” Micky stated.

“Is that not against the rules?”

“Only if you get caught,” Micky said smugly as they past the tumble down, stone ruin with its weed strewn, uneven small front garden.

“What happens if you get caught though?”

“Nothing much, maybe at worst a written warning or a verbal,” Micky said dismissively.

“Is it the same if they catch you with a mobile then?”

“Yeah, but they’ll only be bothered if they see you using it if there’s customers about,” Micky explained as he’d done with other newbie’s in the past.

“So if it’s just in you’re pocket they’ll not say anything then?” Andy was surprised by this news.

“No, how would they even know you had it on you; they’ve not got x-ray vision,” Micky gave a short chuckle at the thought.

“I never thought about it like that.”

Chapter 6

She could sense them passing her abode as she cradled her jar on her lap. Her sharp teeth showing as she watched her prisoners pleading for release, to be freed from the despair that had become their existence.

“What do you think?” She teased the trapped souls within, “some new friends to join you, doesn’t that sound fun.”

She gloried at their added sorrow, the misery all the greater in the confining space of the old thick glass jar sealed on top by a rag wrapped around a wide mouldy cork stopper inscribed with her mark, pushed down into its mouth.

It had been her mother’s, the only thing her accusers had left undamaged after they had come for her and taken her away. Hidden amongst the rest of the smashed and broken belongings it had lain to be found by her after she had risen from death to seek her revenge, so she had used it as their prison.

The morning of the 12^th July 1698 was a warm bright fresh day. It was on this morning they had come for her even though it had only been just over a month since she had buried her mother. She had settled into the same routine every morning as had her mother. Up as dawn broke or before in the dark of winter to set the fire under the large caldron, far too large for just her, to reheat the pottage that was contained within. The large pot hung from a hook that was attached to the iron spit that spanned across the fire held high by the andirons. The fire fork rested to one side of the wide large fire breast.

After she had the fire going out of the banked embers from the previous evening, she would ladle out some of the cold stew, made from the home grown vegetables but only enough to start the day. For though she ate better than most she still had to be careful with what she had especially now she had to fend for herself.

Once fed she would put her wood bowl and spoon away after giving them a wipe on her apron that hung around her waist so they would be clean, ready for the next mealtime. After, it was time to collect water from the stream a short distance along the road at the front of her home; to give feed to her one and only cow, which gave a little milk though not as much as it used to, as it was getting on in years.

As she came back from the stream that fateful morning they had been waiting, the local sheriff with his fat chubby cheeks his finery evidently to show how important he was, with him was the laird in even more fine clothing making her feel rather under dressed in her hand-me-down clothing with her bare feet sticking out from under the frayed, soiled hem of the skirt. Though fashions for the poor changed little she knew her upper bodice also looked old with its long sleeves showing its age, as the threads bared and needing more than the usual patching.

Behind the two fine gents, in their long coats over their waistcoats and knee length breeches, stood others though these were not rich; she recognized most as locals that her mother served as the parish fey-wife tending to births, giving out ointments as well as potions to chase the melancholy away in the cold of winter with all it’s aches and pains.

As she approached she looked curiously but smiling at the gathered crowd of five or six good men of the shire. “How can I help you fine gentlemen this good morning?” Helen asked cheerfully as the sun appeared from behind a cloud.

“Miss Helen Robertson, we are here on serious business,” the large sheriff said solemnly.

“Oh, and what sort of business?” Helen asked furrowing her brow wondering what could bring such grand visitors to her humble cottage.

“Allegations have been made so you must come with us,” the fat serious looking official said as two men broke away from the group of men, moving to either side of Helen, grasping her arms to take charge of the prisoner.

“What allegations? I haven’t done anything, you all know me as you knew my mother,” she answered her voice getting louder as the two men began to drag her, the pail she had been carrying fell to the side disgorging its contents. The other men watched from the corners of their eyes unable to look at her straight as she struggled to free herself.

“You are hereby charged with casting spells to the detriment of others and consorting with advocates of the devil,” the sheriff read the charge from memory as if he had been rehearsing this for sometime.

She understood why they were there now and began to struggle all the more, knowing the danger she now faced, too little avail as the two stronger men dragged her to a nearby cart. On reaching it they held her down as her hands and legs were tied then she found herself unceremoniously tossed into the back of the cart to the amusement of the men that were gathered in her little front garden.

She felt every stone, every hole on the mud track road that took the cart to the village of New Mills. She was sore from the bruising journey but gentle hands didn’t help her out from the back of the horse drawn wagon when it came to a stop before the toll-booth that acted as the local gaol and courthouse.

They dragged her to a back room on the ground floor. Inside waiting for her, three women, tight lipped in fine clothing. Helen didn’t recognize them as they moved towards her as one as Helen tried futilely to roll away from them.

“No, come dear,” the largest of the women said in a southern accent, “the sooner we check you over the sooner you’ll be able to go home.”

“Home,” Helen said with hope renewed.

“Of course,” a thin pointy nosed woman said with a sickly smile, “we just need to examine you. Don’t worry about a thing; it’s just to prove you’ve not got the devils mark.”

“But I don’t,” Helen’s fear was returning for she had heard of such thing in whispers and knew that such things could easily condemn the innocent as readily as the guilty.

“Well then you have nothing to worry about have you,” said the third woman her accent told Helen she was English unlike the other two who both sounded like they came from the same area in Southern Scotland.

They seemed kindly as they untied Helen. She was afraid as they undressed her, embarrassment and humiliated was how she felt as they began to examine her, for only her mother had ever seen her naked before.

Unsatisfied at finding nothing the three turned to a needle, ignoring Helen’s pleas not hurt her any more two of the ladies held her down as the third repeatedly stuck the young woman with the sharpened metal in search of some area to call the mark. Small beads of blood formed where the needle was used to forcefully, to the scolding looks of the other ladies and cries of surprised pain from Helen.

Helen whimpered in the corner, pulling herself into a ball once the three had finished their unpleasant business. They left her in the room to pull on some clothing to cover her shame. The three fine women were not happy as this could mean they may not get paid.

“Well,” the impatient sheriff demanded as the women appeared from the room.

“We could find nothing but that does not mean she is not consorting with dark forces,” the thin pointy nosed woman said primly.

“Yes if she is a witch though she must be a very powerful one and should be put on trial as soon as possible in our experience,” the large woman said hearing the clink of money as the man reached inside his long coat.

“I see,” the sheriff said as he held out a bag full of coin to one of the examiners. “I will see to it as quickly as is possible.”

“Then we shall be on our way as soon as we have signed the writ to say of our findings,” the pointy nosed woman said, pleased at being paid so easily.

Helen was taken from the room to the cells beneath the tolbooth as the three signed their names to the main evidence against her. For Helen the time dragged as the word spread about her arrest and the charges brought against her.

The laird hadn’t gone with the sheriff to the tollbooth but set off to his manor house still known as the castle by the locals. He had to make sure the case was solid against the deceased fey-wife’s daughter. He needed to make sure the witnesses he had were ready for the trial that was sure to take place soon and knew what they had to say.

He shouldn’t have worried as his many plans over the past few weeks had seen to all the things needed to regain the wood and cottage his father had given to the old fey-wife when she had still been living. Surely that alone was proof of witchcraft and then there was the sudden birth of her daughter fourteen years earlier, with no man to provide the seed, surely a sign of evil doings as well as loose living.

Whilst the fey-wife was alive he had known he could not make his move for she was far too well liked but now who would come to the aid of this waif. Though he still worried about the old Minister he was sure the old man’s illness would stop him from interfering in his business. After all he had done well in stirring up talk of strange goings on at night near her house.

Helen spent a long miserable night on the straw covered floor of the windowless room that served as the gaol from the small town. The only light came from a small barred opening at eye level in the heavy oak door, used to keep an eye on those unfortunate enough to spend a night or two inside.

Hunger gnawing at her as she hadn’t eaten since that morning, thirst making her lips dry and cracked as no-one was there to offer her something to drink. She felt naked for they hadn’t given her the chance to dress fully; she had only managed to get her under gown, which acted as a nightgown, on before being dragged down to the cellar to be locked away like some common thief.

The next day the torture began; at first it was just lots of questions from the sheriff and his inquisitor, taking turns to try to confuse her.

“Name the others in you’re coven, who are they?” Demanded the sheriff.

“What coven?” Confused with hunger she didn’t understand why they were asking these terrible things.

“Where in the woods do you meet your master?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are there any men in the coven?”

“I don’t have a coven,” she said falling into the trick question designed to trap her.

“Ah, so now you admit you’re guilt,” the sheriff looked eagerly into her eyes as he spat the words in her face.

“Tell us what is you familiar?”

“I don’t know what you mean, please I haven’t done anything,” she pleaded.

“Now she lies!” Exclaimed the indignant court official, his fat face showing the sweat from the exertion he felt in trying to condemn the young girl by her own words to make the case against her all the more air tight.

All morning the questioning, twisting of words and promises of being allowed home continued but still Helen wouldn’t confess. As the morning became midday the sheriff began to think of his empty belly at that he brought the war of words to an end.

“Well, if you will not tell us the truth of your evil deeds then we have no other option left but to extract it from you with force. We shall leave you to think it over but when we come back you must confess or we will make you, do you understand?” The sheriff said firmly.

“But I have told you I haven’t done anything. I go to church every Sabbath ask Reverend Adams he will tell you,” she hoped at least her old Minister would speak out for her.

“We would but it seems he is deathly ill, you wouldn’t know why that is, would you?” The question was meant to hurt which it did. At that he left with the other man, as he did Helen asked for some water, she was ignored; left to cry dry tears.

They returned after they had eaten their midday snack, something few but the better off could indulge in. Lunch had not been as pleasant as the sheriff would have liked, for news arrived that the old Minister was on the mend. The sheriff’s mind whirled as he knew that if the clergyman recovered before they could send this waif to her death the laird’s plan to retrieve the land his father had gifted to the girl’s mother would be undone or at least made a little harder.

As he re-entered the cell containing Helen he knew that he needed to step things up, he need this young woman to give him his confession. To get it he was prepared to leave her in the hands of his hired henchman who was well versed, as well as, highly recommended in how to obtain such information from the guilty.

“Now, are you ready to tell us the truth and admit to the fact that you are a witch?” The large bulbous sheriff asked hoping Helen would be ready to give him what he desired.

“I have been telling the truth.”

“Well you leave me no other options since you continue with these falsehoods. I will leave you in the capable hands of my learned friend here,” at this he turned leaving the large muscular inquisitor with Helen for he didn’t wish to watch as the man did his unpleasant work. He didn’t escape her screams as she was beaten, raped, and sodomized through the afternoon then into the evening by the man and his two helpers that joined him as the fine gentleman left the cell.

Finally, feeling tired, the man left Helen, bloodied naked form to seek out the sheriff. As he left he promised to return if she still refused to tell the sheriff what he wanted to hear. Helen just lay where they had left her, empty in her nakedness no longer caring about what they might do next.

The inquisitor felt little for what he had done, it didn’t even bother him when he found that she was a virgin. It had merely added to the effect that it had on the girl and to his enjoyment in the pain he had inflicted; he looked forward to further testing how much it would take to breaking this wench for he was sure she still had some inner strength left inside so looked forward to the joy of taking it from her.

“Has she confessed yet?” The sheriff hoped the news would be what he wanted.

“I am sure after tonight she shall yield and give you the confession you wish.”

“I see,” the sheriff was unhappy with this news, “well if she doesn’t then we shall have to proceed to trial without it.”

“I shall do my best your honour,” the man bowed low then made off to get some sustenance for himself and his companions that he had hired locally to help him in his godly business.

Helen was continually woken, though she in truth was far from asleep. She was even thankful when at one stage she was dragged from her cell and her head pushed into a bucket of water for at least she was able to get a sip to ease her thirst. She didn’t fight when those hired by the inquisitor to keep her awake whilst he caught forty wink, forced themselves on her again knowing that to fight as she had earlier would only lead to more of a beating.

“Well, are you ready to confess witch?” The fat sheriff asked not really caring any longer if she did, just wanting the whole business over with as speedily as he could. When she refused to answer he turned to his hired thug, “clean her up and put some clothes on her; we shall allow fifteen good men of the parish to judge for themselves her guilt.”

At that she found herself doused in water then she found her gown being forced over her head to hide her bared flesh and dried blood down her legs. As she pulled the clothing down to cover her naked battered body she felt her inner strength renew as she thought maybe now she might find justice and be allowed to return home.

She soon found out how wrong she was as she wasn’t allowed to speak in her own defence as the evidence was presented to the court. The sheriff egged the witnesses to say more damning things about Helen and her mother with little regard for truth or justice.

Many had gathering in the small room used for the court proceedings making it overly hot for the young tired woman standing in the makeshift dock. She understood little of the things being said but knew that it was not good. When she tried once too often for the sheriff to refute the things she did understand, he ordered her gagged. The two hired hands at her side happily complied with more force than was needed tearing the corners of her bruised swollen lips in the process, her broken jagged teeth hurting all the more.

She didn’t understand why everyone was so ready to say such wrongs against her; after all they had known her all of her life. She was one of them, wasn’t she? They had respected her mother, who had always shown kindness to everyone; ready to help anyone in needed of it.

When the last of those called to give evidence against her had testified to how questionable her ways were, the sheriff began summing up before sending the jury of fifteen men to deliberate on the verdict.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “you have known this woman for all of her life as you knew her mother but I must ask that you put this to one side so you shall come to a fair and impartial decision.” He let them consider this for a moment before continuing, “You have heard much to my mind that would suggest to me that this woman has consorted with the devil and cast spells to the detriment of many of those here present. Then there is the fact that we have no knowledge of who her father was, is it possible we have a seed of the dark lord in our very midst or that her mother was a loose woman of the lowest demeanour, to my mind this is indeed most likely. After all you have heard for yourselves that men had been seen on numerous occasions going to the witches dwelling. To add to this we have the statement given by the three women hired to examine the accused for marks commonly known to be of the devil, used to feed the imps and demons who plague the common folk of the parish with pains as well as many other ills of the flesh. I say to you good men of the jury remember these things as you discuss how you should find this retched excuse of a woman. Now you may retire to the upper floor to come to you’re verdict.”

The court broke up for the jury to come to their decision. After they had left Helen was taken through the mob, hissing spitting their hatred towards her to the cells below. The time past slowly as she sat in the corner, awaiting her fate.

The jury was in no rush to come to their decision as the laird had made sure food had been laid on for all who had come to see the trial, as well as the jury. Everyone knew that the laird himself had been wronged by this witch and her mother casting spells on his father to obtain money and land they had no right to. But the laird in all his kindness had not wished to come forward to testify about how his poor family had suffered in fear of this witch.

It was mid afternoon before the court reconvened, Helen knew from the gloating glances that things were not as she hoped. The smell of alcohol seemed to be on all those near and as she looked around she could see it was not just those nearby but all present who had been enjoying a jug or two of claret.

“Order, order,” the sheriff thumped his big clammy hand down on to the table before him bringing a hush to the room, “bring in the jury.”

The jury staggered their way through the crowd to the seats kept empty for them. Helen’s heart sank even more at the sight of their ruddy cheeks and the way they refused to look in her direction.

“Have you come to a decision on the guilt of the witch,” the sheriff wanted to get this over with as soon as he could so as he could get back to the free food and drink.

A man nearest the over weight official shakily pushed himself too his feet, “We have.”

“And how say you.”

“We find her guilty your honour sir,” the man happily sat back down, job done.

The sheriff turned solemnly to Helen, “You have been found guilty of witchcraft which leaves me with no option but to sentence you to death. You shall be held till the morning then taken to the crossroads where you shall be strangled at the stake then burnt and your bones buried at the place of you execution and may god have mercy on your evil soul.”

The crowd cheered, whilst Helen felt as if she’d be slammed from a great height. She found it hard to breathe as she was dragged through the baying crowd, blows reigning down on her from all sides. The world spun around her as she was tossed back into the cell to await the new morning.

As the night past she was left alone but only found snatches of sleep as thoughts raced through her mind. She had been sure the Minister would have come to her defence or one of the many people she had known all her life. Tears did not flow from her instead a twisting anger grew within. Bitter words were barely held from spilling out. As the night moved towards the dawn her thoughts turned darker consuming her every fibre.

When they came for her she no longer was the young naive girl they had brutalised. She was the witch they had feared, full of evil intent, revenge foremost in her mind; her hatred burning all reason away.

She was taken, on the cart that had been used to take her to captivity, to the crossroads outside of the small township. A post had been erected at the other side of the road furthest from the town. Fire wood was piled nearby; the crowd had already gathered to watch the death of this evil doer, happy for the distraction to their otherwise gruelling lives.

As the cart came to a halt three men came forth to manhandle Helen through those gathered citizens, taking her to the stake that awaited her. A gag was forced into her mouth, her hands tied behind the wooden stake so her arms wrapped backwards around it holding her, as more rope was coiled around he torso to hold her firm to the post.

“People,” the fat form of the sheriff called the baying crowd to some sort of order, “people, we are here for the purpose of ending the evil that has dwelt for too long amongst us. Bringing fear, pain and torment upon us whilst pretending to be of a kindly heart but her,” the odorous man wagged his finger in the direction of Helen, “evil deeds have been uncovered for us all to see and now we shall have our justice.”

The crowd yelled their approval, chanting as one, “Kill the witch.” Rotted turnips and other vegetable matter rained towards the unfortunate girl.

Her hatred clearly visible in her eyes, burning as the man chosen to carry out the terrible deed moved up to her rear. He held a rope in his hand ready to garrotte the condemned prisoner but as he prepared himself for the task a figure, newly arrived pushed his way through the throng feebly, yet those close to him made way.

“Wait! Wait!” the old clergyman cried as loudly as he could as he reached the reason for the gathering.

“Ah the good Minister,” the sheriff looked contemptuously at the ill looking old man, “what can we do for you.”

“This is wrong and you know it,” the aging minister said with conviction.

“She was found guilty by her peers of casting of spell to the detriment of others and so sentenced accordingly as is the policy of the church whom you represent,” the fat man said with a flourish as the crowd nodded their approval.

“You have no need to tell me of the church’s standing on these matters but it is for the church and not you to judge in these matters as well you know,” the elderly man drew on his limited strength hoping he could at least do something to ease the poor girls suffering. “You sir, would send this so called witch to her death without first allowing her to confess her sins before the Lord.”

“We gave her more than enough chances to confess but she refused though if you so wish to try again then be my guest,” he moved to one side to let the other man approach the figure bound to the wooden post, gloating at him as he passed.

“Oh, my dear child I should have known, I should have protected you better,” Reverend Adams said apologetically as he undid the gag to let the girl find peace before death claimed her.

“You have nothing to fear my mother’s friend,” croaked Helen once her mouth was free of the obstruction, “but for all of you others who have falsely sentenced me to death I call a curse upon you, may the screaming of the banshee tear your very souls to ever lasting torment.”

The old man regaled backwards horror plain for all to see at the curse uttered by the now self confessed witch, as they now saw it. The sheriff gave a nod to the executioner who quickly prevented the witch from saying anything further, choking her till life appeared to desert her.

“Burn her!” A cry went up from the crowd; the fire wood was quickly piled around the lifeless girl as the crowd applauded.

The old clergyman left the scene his heart breaking as he went at hearing the girl he had baptized all those years ago, the girl he had tried to look out for, calling down such wrongs on the towns people no matter the reason for it he could not condone such a thing. By her very words she had justified the barbarity of the crowd and now he could not hope to defend her memory or hope to obtain at least a Christian burial for her.

As the fire took hold of the wood Helen roused from unconsciousness. Pain seared into her mind, her screams shaking everyone present and chased after the old man headed back to his church; a scream that would haunt his memory till his death as it would for so many. As the fire consumed her life it bore a new form in the scream that could bring fear to the hardest of souls.

Death was gratefully received as the fire melted her flesh. She didn’t wait to see how they would treat her remains. She knew she needed an anchor to hold her to this realm so she could seek the revenge against those responsible for the wrongs done to her.

Her spirit passed over fields, through the woods to the place she had known as home; to the house where she had been born. As she entered she saw the devastation left by those searching for valuables but to her it was the work of those she now wished ill. As she surveyed the broken objects that her mother had left her she notice a large glass jar on its side hidden amongst the other things her mother had lovingly looked after now smashed. Only the jar seemed to have survived. Outside her cow was gone as was the garden plundered of its produce.

Chapter 7

“How long do you think it will take for you and…? Andy isn’t it?” Sandra said looking at the taller man on searching her memory for his name. Sandra was a short stout woman with shoulder length mousey hair; her most prominent feature was a large hairy mole on her top lip which earned her the nickname of Cocopops.

“Only an hour or two at most,” answered Micky.

His boss looked at him nodding as if trying to look all knowing. “Then you’ll sweep up the road from the main gate to the walled garden?” She questioned the men yet knew this was her plan but wanting them to think it was somehow their idea.

“Yes,” Micky agreed. He waited for her to reveal what else she might have for them to do, knowing she always did.

“Do you think,” she began as if to suggest something, “that you’d have time to brush out the walled garden?”

“Yeah, cause we’ll not be finishing till late as we open tomorrow,” Micky pretended to remind the middle aged woman.

“Well if you do that then you can come and see me if you need something else to do,” she said as if pleased by their decision, “that alright?”

“Okay, will do,” Micky agreed as both he and Andy lifted the paint tins, with the brushes then made for the canteen door to head out to start the long days work followed closely by their boss, on her way to the main office.

The sky seemed brighter as they exited the cabin as the sun tried to burn its way through the cloud cover. They headed left out the gate on their way to the top end of the park and the log flume fence that awaited a new coat of paint.

“Once you’re finished with the painting could you drop it off at the office?” Sandra asked before the two men could escape.

“No problem,” both answered in unison as they went one way and the woman headed the other.

“Why does she want us to take the paint to the office?” Andy looked to his co-worker as one of the parks Manitou’s drove past and in through the double gates, stopping in front of the cabin.

“No idea,” Micky shrugged his shoulders, “maybe she’s going to decorate the office with it or maybe her house.”

“You really think,” Andy answered naively.

Micky laughed aloud as his friend looked at him, bemused. “Oh yeah, I can just see her house now a nice shade of Timberland brown,” he said between guffaws.

“Well you never know,” Andy said as he realized he was making a fool of himself, a little redness coming to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I can just see it,” Micky continued to tease.

“What ever,” Andy murmured as Micky slowly stopped laughing. “So where are we going to start?”

“Where we left off yesterday,” Micky said casually as they walked along the tree lined boulevard that took them to the awaiting new fence in need of a coating of paint. They past the newer coaster, one of the main attractions, standing taller than the trees by the road; even though its entrance was below the road.

“When do you think we’ll finish the night by the way?” Andy hoped it wouldn’t be too late as he didn’t fancy going through the woods at night which he now could see as they approached the log flume.

“Hopefully not to late,” Micky paused to think it over for a moment, “maybe about half seven or eight.”

A man walking his dog nodded at the pair as they turned into the picnic area before the flume. . “Looks like it might brighten up later,” the gentleman said as he passed by on the other side of the roadway.

“Let’s hope,” Micky answered cheerfully. They crossed the large open space going round the tables and set down the cans they’d been carrying next to the fence. “You want to start down there.” He pointed in the direction of the tea house, a large wooden barn like structure as he noticed the man with his dog letting his pet run free from the lead.

“Okay,” Andy answered stooping to retrieve the paint tin he’d just deposited on the ground.

“You got something to open the tin with?” Micky queried before his younger companion lifted the container.

“Yeah, I’ve got my keys for my house,” he said as straightened, tin in hand before moving off to get on with the job at hand.

Micky kneeled down, reaching into his pocket to find his own keys to open his pot, sitting the brush from his other hand on the ground as he did so. He soon had the lid off and began applying the contents to the new wood unceremoniously.

They worked quickly, moving closer as the fence became thickly coated with the brown water based solution. Splodges dropped from brushes as the day brightened, the sun finally winning against the grey overcast and began to shine, weakly at first. With it the day started to feel warmer and both men loosened their coats as they worked; before long discarding them as the sweat began to trickle down their backs though they still retained their sweatshirts.

Bird song drifted from the nearby woods as the sun finally burned the last of the grey from above yet, leaving a white haziness to the sky.

Time past speedily and the men soon came together. Micky stepped back to let his, less experienced, friend finish the last part of the fence alone.

“You missed a bit,” Micky said pointing to where Andy still hadn’t done.

“Where?” Andy asked falling for the joke as Micky laughed. “Oh, I see okay, okay smart guy.”

Micky moved off to collect the lid for the tin still laughing, picking up his coat on the way as Andy finished the fence which he did before Micky reached the paint top. He then waited for his friend, forgetting his own jacket, to join him.

“Aren’t you wanting your jacket then?” Micky said as he strolled back towards Andy.

“Eh, oh right,” he replied as Micky nodded in the direction of the garment.

“And you better put the lid on the tin as well,” Micky smiled as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Andy made his way over to where he left jacket, Micky following behind. “Where will we wash the brushes?”

“There’s a tap behind the tea house.” He didn’t stop to wait for Andy as he halted to put the top on the pot.

“So where about is this tap then?” Andy enquired as he jogged after Micky.

“Just follow me.”

They were soon over the fence next to the large wooden building and round the back to the tap, washing the heavily brown covered brushes clean. The water gushed out of the spigot over the brushes to the earth turning it muddy; some of the mucky water splashed up onto their trousers and trainers.

“Micky!” An echoing cry came from a group of three in the distance, heading up from the cabin towards the two men.

Micky smiled as he recognized his old friend from previous years at the park; then headed in their direction with the now cleaner brush. Andy followed closely behind as Micky walked quickly to talk with his friend, climbing the fence to the main road, to join the approaching figures.

“What they let you back?” Micky joked as he got closer to the three co-workers.

“Yeah, well they said, they needed somebody to keep you from scaring the customers away,” said an average sized, thin man on the right of the group; his longish dark brown hair falling into his eyes before being flicked away with a toss of his head.

“What? Me?” Micky looked sheepishly back at the man.

“After last year most certainly,” the slender man jokingly responded.

“I’ll let you know I treat all the customers the same,” Micky smiled playfully.

“And that’s what I’m talking about,” the man nodded as he spoke making his hair fall back into his eyes which he flicked away as before.

“How what does he do?” asked one of the thin man’s companions bringing loud laughter from Micky and the brown haired man.

“What doesn’t he do?” Andy joined the fun as he’d heard plenty of tales from the maintenance crew over the past week or two at lunch.

“And another thing,” the thin man began, “if your in the park on you’re day off, don’t go on the ride he’s on.”

“Why?” Asked a young slip of a girl with large brown eyes which caught Micky’s for a moment as she smiled up at him.

“Don’t listen to him,” Micky poked his thumb at the slight figure in front of him, “he’s just getting old and can’t keep up with us younger ones.”

“Younger ones, well that rules you out then,” the slender man said, smiling.

“I resent that,” joked Micky.

“What, the truth hurt,” the other man continued the pretence.

All those gathered joined Micky in his laughter. “So where were you at the induction?”

“I had other things on so couldn’t make it but then they asked me to come in today to clean some of the rides for tomorrow,” the brown haired man answered Micky.

“And there I was hoping you’d come to help me and Andy here,” Micky nudged Andy.

“I bet you do,” he started, “and you watch he doesn’t leave it all for you,” he said to the taller man.

“I’ve noticed he was a bit of a lazy sod,” Andy cheerfully put in.

“Don’t listen to them,” Micky said to the other two trying to catch the girl’s eye again without success. “Anyway what time is this to be starting?” Micky asked looking at his watch which stated it was just going onto twenty to ten in the morning.

“Cocopops told us just to come in for half nine till two so,” shrugged the other man.

“A short day then,” Andy stated.

“Yeah, how long have you’s been in for?”

“Since eight, and we’re not sure when to,” Micky said a little wearily.

“Hopefully not to late though as I don’t fancy walking through the woods in the dark,” Andy gave a nervous smile.

“Somebody’s scared of the witchy house,” Micky poked fun at his friend with a gesture of the head.

“What house?” asked the thin man’s companions in unison.

“Oh, it’s just an old dilapidated cottage in the woods everyone thinks is haunted around here,” Micky explained almost laughing out loud at the thought.

“Ah, right,” the others smiled back.

“You can mock all of you if want but I don’t think many folks about here would go near that place at night,” defended Andy.

The rest of them smiled at him.

“Well I suppose we better get on a lot to do unlike you part timers,” quipped Micky after a moment.

“Listen to who’s talking,” Micky’s friend replied, “but I think we’d better get on with it as well. If I don’t see you later I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” they shook hands before parting company. The three new comers heading for the rides at the top of the park as Andy and Micky headed down towards the cabin, the walled garden; then the office.

“You fancy a cuppa tea?” Micky asked as they got closer to the canteen building.

“Why not,” replied Andy suddenly feeling a little parched. They quickly turned into the gateway.

Chapter 8

She watched as her captives swam around the inside of the jar. like fish in a bowl trying to find their way out to freedom. Some of the spirits seemed brighter than others to her sensitive eyes; she knew this was because they hadn’t been in there for as long as those dimmer, weaker souls.

She noticed one that was barely visible to her. She knew this to be the fat, arrogant sheriff that had sentenced her to death; knowing her innocence. Why, she had only found out the night she had finally caught up with him, to bring upon him the hell he now endured.

It was over a month since she had been put to death though life had gone on for those responsible. She had used the glass jar she had found as an anchor to stop herself from moving on to the place of rest. She knew that was the only way to bring about the justice she so desired. That she could not rest until all the guilty were brought to task for what they had done.

The sunset earlier as the seasons began to change, as August reached towards its end. She felt happier as the longer nights grew closer for it gave her more time to seek out those that she sought. But where would she start? She knew whom she wanted first but how to reach out without alerting the others before she was ready to let each know of their mistake?

It was as she wandered close to the castle manor house thinking, plotting these things over when she heard voices drifting on a breeze. She recognized one as that of her most hated of enemies, the sheriff. Her curiosity was raised so glided through the dark, closer to the window where the voices came from.

“So I heard that the old minister has been causing trouble over the witch,” the laird said to his guest the bulging sheriff.

“Nothing that the rumours that have been going around won’t sort out, if you know what I mean,” the sheriff gave a knowing laugh, which was joined by the laird as they shared the joke. She noticed from where she gazed at the men that they were alone, enjoying a night of drink and the gentlemanly pursuit of cards as they discussed business, which was just an excuse to drink even more than usual.

“Yes well everyone loves gossip,” the laird smirked, “and the right coin in the right pocket can help it along quite nicely.” Both loudly bellowed out their amusement, feeling no guilt at the harm they caused to those they saw as beneath them.

She didn’t understand; were they plotting something against the old minister, why? She felt her hatred growing; barely able to contain it with in but what was the laird doing, what was his part and how could he gain from hurting the clergyman?

“Well he should have taken my warning to mind his business after we dealt with the witch, instead he goes sending letters to the parliament asking for the matter to be looked into,” the fat man shook his head disapprovingly, “luckily you have such good connections.”

“Nonsense no luck involved,” the laird said sure of his breading as he saw it, “planning is all it takes, just as with that scheming witch. To think her and her mother could steal my land, really,” he added dismissively.

The shock hit her, the laird had been behind this and now he was plotting against the one man that had always been there for her as well as her mother throughout her short life. She controlled the anger growing inside. She wanted to rush at them, to take what they had taken from her; damning them to the glass prison she had prepared for those she now sought plus one.

“Yes, well she paid. It’s just a pity we couldn’t have done the same to her crow of a mother,” the sheriff’s words burned her soul almost as painfully as the fire had her flesh.

“I’ll drink to that,” the laird raised his glass then took a large swallow of the liquid refreshment it held.

“What do you think of her curse?” The laird narrowed his eyes as he asked the question, as if to hide his own thoughts within.

“Nonsense, total nonsense,” the odorous fat lump of a man mocked, “she is in hells own grasp now and as we all know there is no escape for that.”

Their laughter once again taunted her as she listened. She would show them, yet she knew she needed to do this right; she knew she may have to wait so as to fulfil her malediction.

The men talked on as the hour grew late, though she no longer showed interest now she knew the truth. It had been for simple greed that she had been sacrificed to the fire. If the laird had so wanted the land why not just request it be returned?

Finally the sheriff decided it was time to head home. His host seeing how late it was offered to put his guest up for the night but the sheriff wouldn’t hear of it, wanting the comfort of his own bed with it’s a small number of bedbugs, though he doubted if the laird would have few, if any.

His mistake of dismissing her curse and taking the quick road through the woods made him easy for her to follow, especially since he was walking as it was such a fine night for such activity. He’d left his coach behind though the laird had offered his, more out of appearing sociable than to save the sheriff from the walk.

The fat lump strode purposely along the main track way that cut through the woods that contained her cottage. As he went, she rustled branches in the darkness out of his sight yet loud enough for him to hear. The noise at first didn’t seem to bother him but as he continued onwards he began to get more nervous as fear rose within of vagabonds hiding waiting to waylay him though he tried to dismiss the fear by putting the sounds down to deer or some such other creatures foraying for food.

“Who’s there?” he’d nervously asked as she snapped a large branch which he no longer could put down to animals. He search the night as far as his eyes could reach into the shadows though saw nothing.

No reply was given to his challenge. He picked up his pace, pecking as he went as his breathe grew more laboured; as she followed in the woods, shaking more branches, snapping others causing his fear to rise, driving him on along the roadway and regretting not taking the laird up on his offer of a room for the night yet not wanting to turn around to head back.

“Do you know who I am?” He’d shouted self-righteously, as he stopped his progress on glimpsing her ghostly form flitting between the trees. She could not hold back her mirth, cackling loud sending him into greater flight, stumbling on the rough potholed surface in the darkness.

He stopped as he came to the front of her house, labouring for breath, holding his knees for support. It was then she had struck. His mind unable to take in the horror of her screaming rage filled apparition as she threw herself towards him from out of the dark.

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 for 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.

Chapter 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.

“They’ve been in the FORT OF DOOM,” Micky tried to sound scary by deepening his voice and slowing his speech as he gave the name of the walled garden.

“Oh yeah, the new ride,” Andy remember that the day before he’d heard them talking about it.

“Yeah, they were putting the last of it together today,” Micky stretched his back as he walked, lifting the bags in his hands as he did so.

“Do you think it will be ready for tomorrow?”

“No,” Micky shook his head slightly, “it’s still to be tested, it will be after Easter before it opens for the public,” he added.

“You really think?” Andy asked with surprise that it would be so long.

“It could be the summer before they open it,” Micky nodded, “after all they’ve got to get all the bugs out it before that.”

“I suppose but the summer seems a bit long doesn’t it?” Andy felt astounded at this news.

“Well it has to be safe for the punters to go on, after all they don’t want to see folks thrown through the air out of it,” Micky gave a giggle at the image this conjured in his mind as they turned into the gates to the canteen building.

Loud voices came from an open window as they carried their load on past the building to the rear and the large industrial skip that the park used for all of its waste. The black receptacles were tossed unceremoniously into the giant trash bin.

Both men were soon around the building to the front and in to the cabins locker-room to collect their lunchboxes before entering the double room used by the staff for refreshments.

“Hey, it’s the part timers,” Charlie the head of maintenance said as they walked through the doorway.

“Where have you two been hiding then?” Johnny, the park carpenter or Chippy as everyone called him, asked cheekily.

“We could ask you the same,” Micky countered to the mirth of the other seven men in the room.

“Hey, by the way Micky what are you two doing later?” Charlie asked as his jollity subsided.

“After lunch we’re brushing up the walled garden,” Micky said before asking hopefully, “Why do you need us for something?”

“Yeah, we might later on with putting the cars on the new ride,” Charlie looked up from his plate of steaming spaghetti and toast with a large mug of tea beside it.

“No problem,” Micky said with a nod as he sat his lunch on a table opposite the man then headed to the sink at the back of the large room to wash his hands and make himself some coffee.

A large urn bubbled away in one corner on top of the extended kitchen worktop the sink in the other. He dried his hands on a paper towel he took from the pile sitting by the draining board as did Andy; then deposited it in the large bin sitting near by.

Taking his cup from where he’d left it earlier on the draining board Micky soon had his coffee adding milk from the large fridge near the sink and waste receptacle before taking a seat with Andy joining him at the same table they’d deposited their lunches.

“So what you been up to the day then?” Chippy asked Micky, as he took another large bite of a sandwich held firmly in his right hand, washing it down with a swig from a large half pint size mug.

“We finished painting the fence you put up last week and brushing up the drive from the booths down at the front of the park up to the walled garden,” Micky explained as he too tucked into his lunch.

“Why are you sweeping up the drive? There’s a road sweeper coming in tomorrow to do that,” Charlie shook his head at the stupidity as he thought of half a dozen other things that still needed doing around the park.

“Just doing as the gaffer told us,” Micky shrugged his shoulders, unbothered by the pointlessness of the task he had been asked to do.

“Who? The new rides manager?” Charlie pulled his eyebrows down as he answered his own question with the other.

“Yeah,” Micky said between mouthfuls.

“By the way you never told us your girlfriend was having a baby,” Chippy said after a moment.

“Well she’s not due till August so I never thought, still letting it sink in,” he told the carpenter.

“How long since you found out?” Charlie spooned another helping of spaghetti up to his mouth slurping as some tried to escape being eaten.

“Just a couple of weeks,” Micky answered after he swallowed.

“And it’s still not sunk in yet,” Chippy joked.

“And it won’t till it arrives then you’ll know all about it,” Charlie stated, knowing to well what it was like.

“Yeah, maybe,” Micky took a sip from his cup but found the liquid still to hot to take more than that.

“Just wait till you’ve got a really stinking nappy to change,” Charlie screwed up his face at the memory.

“I’ll not be changing the nappies, no way, that’s her job,” Micky gave a short incredulous chuckle.

“Just you wait,” Chippy nodded consciously, “before you know it you find you’ve no choice.”

“I’m telling you there’s no chance you’ll get me near a shitty nappy,” Micky was defiant.

“Okay, say the girlfriends not in, what you going to do then?” Charlie began, “you can’t just leave the baby in a nappy filled with crap, can you?”

“Well, she can stay in till it’s out of them,” Micky sounded cocky.

“You just wait, you don’t know what’s hit you yet,” Charlie laughed with Chippy joining him.

Andy sat quietly eating, listening intently to the conversation leaning back in his chair.

“Andy was wondering when the new ride was going to be open by the way,” Micky change the topic.

“Oh, that won’t be till May at least,” Charlie slurped up another mouthful of his meal, cutting a corner of toast with his spoon then shovelled that into his mouth too.

“What’s it going to be called?” Andy piped up.

The head of maintenance took a moment to answer as chewed noisily trying to remember what the management had decided to call the Troika, as the ride was originally known. “The Cradle Of Fear,” he finally said dismissively as he cut another piece of toast.

Micky and Andy sat eating in silence as the rest of the group talked amongst themselves about the Troika as well as other rides in the park before turning to the big match on Saturday.

“Well I’ll be watching Celtic kick Rangers’ arses.”

“You mean Rangers knock six past your lot.”

“You think.”

“I don’t think I know mate.”

“Look at it this way, the way Rangers has been playing this season they’ll be lucky if they can even get a touch of the ball.”

“At home to you lot and you really think you stand a chance against us.”

“More than a chance it will be a walk over more like.”

“Ha ha-ha.”

“Glad you lot find it funny but you know what they say he who laughs last and all that.”

“Yeah, I know that one does it not go something like; he who laughs last doesn’t laugh at all.” This brought hoots of glee for the Rangers fans and jeers from those who supported Celtic as the one or two that didn’t follow football shook their heads in amusement.

“Right you lot enough of talking shit ‘cause you know it makes no difference who wins with you’s as in the end Killie will beat the both of you blind folded,” the ever diehard Kilmarnock fan Charlie brought the light-hearted squabble to an end in the usual way by declaring his misguided belief in his team.

Both sides turned on him reminding how far down the league his team was. He defended by saying that they were merely giving all the other teams a chance before they show them all how to play. At this the laughter became riotous from all sides.

As the laughter subsided Micky drank the last of his coffee whilst looking at his watch noticing it was time to get back to work. He collected his trash, as he got up to rinse out his cup, putting it in the bin as he passed on the way to the sink.

Andy didn’t bother to clean his cup tossing it in to his lunchbox with his waste for his mother to bin when he got home. “So what time do we finish today?” he asked Micky as he got his sandwich box from the table.

“What you scared still of the witch?” Micky teased.

“Who’s scared of the witch?” Chippy asked.

“Andy is,” Micky smiled.

“Oh, well you shouldn’t jest about them things,” Charlie warned half seriously.

“Yeah, she might come out and give him a big love bite,” Micky laughed.

“Have you not pissed her off already last year,” Chippy reminded Micky of last years ribbing he got for using the old cottage on the way home as stop off to relieve himself.

“What did he do?” Andy sounded nervous as he asked the question.

“Oh-ho,” came from the now listening crowd.

“What didn’t he do,” began Chippy, “tried to lure the witch out with his tackle, didn’t you, you dirty bugger.”

“What?” Andy looked mystified first at Chippy, then the rest of those present.

“I was caught short,” Micky countered as the others laughed at his embarrassment.

It slowly dawned on Andy, “You had a piss in her house.”

“Oh indeedy,” Charlie said shaking his head, “and not just the once, did you?”

“Ah, you don’t believe in that shit any more than I do, so stop scaring the lad, anyway we should be finished before midnight anyway,” Micky defended himself.

“It doesn’t have to be midnight for the ghost to come out to play though,” Chippy tried to tease Andy through Micky.

“What can a ghost do anyway? Walk through you and give you a chill?” Micky joked.

“Yeah, well just remember those teenagers in sixty eight,” Charlie reminded them all of the local legend.

“What, those drugged out hippies that freaked out on acid or something?” Micky smiled at Charlie knowing he was just trying to pull Andy’s leg.

“Well that’s what the police tried to say but they couldn’t really tell what happened, just that they ended up dead,” Charlie continued to tease.

“What ever,” Micky dismissed the story, “we’d better get back to our sweeping. Give us a shout when you need us.”

Charlie gave a chuckle of amusement. “Okay, just keep an eye out for the witch by the way,” he added as Micky and Andy turned to leave.

Micky shook his head as he left the canteen. He put his things away into his locker then headed for the toilets before going back to work.

Chapter 12

A scurrying sound drifted through the wall separating the cellar from her hidden room. At first she hopefully believed it might be someone to scare so listened quietly. When the noise came again she recognized it as just some rodent sniffing around looking for something to eat. She felt a small wave of disappointment that no one was there.

“There’s nothing for you here little beastie,” she croaked dryly in the direction of the sound. It stopped for a second before resuming as the creature continued its search.

She listened as she mulled the past over in her mind, one of the few things she had during the light of day; that and playing with her collection in the jar. She almost loved remembering the terror she had caused in the past almost as much as hunting for new prey.

Her mind wandered to the night of the visit by the Minister Adams and after he crossed over leaving her to the curse she had become.

The inquisitor had returned to the area on the behest to the Minister in the neighbouring parish. He was just too pleased to return; after all he knew it would mean a large bag of coin. Lodgings were arranged for him at the local inn on the outskirts of New Mills an easy ride to the main manor house of the laird.

She had learned all of this from the last victim as he pleaded for her to forgive him for his lies. She had no mercy though even if she had let him babble on spilling everything he knew in the vain hope of life. She had found as the fear spread through the glen that the guilty seemed eager to appease her though she showed them little reason to suggest they might be able to bargain for their lives.

So it was when Reverend Adams had visited her, to save her, she was preparing to seek out her greatest tormentor in her final days of flesh. If he had come sooner, before she had taken so many he might have had a chance to reach out to her but that time had been to long in the past.

After he left she found it hard to go out in search of the man that found pleasure in torturing others for profit. Once she left the small house she felt a renewed energy course through her as if not going with her old friend had made her more powerful, by accepting damnation she gained the right to judge those beneath her. She was now transformed she felt into the angel of judgement, the banshee.

She followed him as he rode his stallion to his lodgings after visiting the laird. Her plans formed in her consciousness as she moved from shadow to shadow in the bright moonlight, as he rode on blissfully unaware of his impending doom.

He entered the inn, carrying his saddle bags over his shoulder, leaving the inns stable hand to see to his horse; then approached the landlord behind the bar. “Can I have a jug of claret and some grub sent up to the room?” He enquired.

“No but you can take it with you if you want? Just bring down the jug and plate in the morning,” the landlord answered amused at the thought that a guest could believe that they might get served in their room, as if they were royalty.

“Fine then that will need to do,” the inquisitor said, hating the lack of curtsies in these small back water inns; though he did like the fact, that often because of the lack of visitors, he often got a room to himself as he now enjoyed.

The proprietor brought the ordered sustenance to the waiting man as he surveyed the few patrons sitting at the far end of the grimy, claret stained bar. He gave them a nod as he headed for the far door to the stairs to the upper rooms; they in turn gruffly sounded their acknowledgements as they eyed him warily.

The rough wooden door to his room had no lock as was the norm, just a simple latch for this reason he tended to keep all his possessions with him where ever he went. Over the years he had acted as the self appointed inquisitor for those willing to pay he had learned that inn keepers were about the least honest of individuals and not above riffling through a patron’s things if left unattended.

He placed his bag on the empty bed next to the one he used for sleeping because he believed it to have fewer bedbugs than any of the other three squeezed into the room. There was little other than the beds, even the windows were bare to the night sky and a stool he pulled over next to the bed, sitting his refreshments onto it once it was in the right position for him.

She waited hidden in the dark shadows of the nearby buildings for him to settle in for the night. She watched as the innkeeper saw the last of his regulars off home then began too lock everything up for the night. Still she waited so as to let the proprietor get to his bed as well as the man she had come to bring justice to.

Finally she slipped her way through the walls of the inn. Her search didn’t take long, finding him with relative ease. He lay sleeping as if he hadn’t a guilt in the world to keep him from a sound nights sleep. She felt repulsed as she slipped under the covers next to him, yet knew he too would find what disgust was.

She cuddled in close to him, her skin crawling as she did, fighting to hold down her rage. He slowly woke from his slumber, at first he was surprised at someone being in the same bed as himself, after all there were plenty others for them to have to themselves. The surprise though quickly turned as he realized that it was a female that was sharing his bed.

“And who might you be wench,” he said softly.

“Oh, sir don’t you remember me, I am saddened,” she whispered back straining to hold the hate under control, only managing to hide it from her voice.

“Should I,” his brow furrowed as he tried to think who she might be, for he was sure he hadn’t been with any female company when he was last here.

“Well, I just thought after last time that you would remember me, after all I’m sure I shall never forget,” she strained to hold the sarcasm from showing in her words.

“Last time, eh,” he pulled her close as he said this, his lips locked on hers as her hand slipped down his chest, as he dismissed any other thoughts, other than the lust that rose in his manhood.

The taste of putrefying burnt flesh filled his senses as her tongue pushed its way into his mouth. He tried to push her away but found her stronger than any woman he had ever encountered before. He tried harder yet still found her fixed against his flesh as the stench of death and rotting meat filled the room, he began to gag.

Somehow he found himself pinned flat to the bed as a coldness reached into his chest and around his heart. His strength vanished as she pulled away from the kiss her ghostly hand still locked around the still beating organ.

“Oh, how disappointing that you don’t remember our last time,” her voice sounded different, courser, dryer to him as the light from the moon shone once again as cloud was carried away from covering the bright celestial body.

Vomit prevented him answering, from breathing. His eyes bulged as sick dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He tried to turn to the side in an attempt to clear the regurgitated matter. She held him firm though as his life ebbed with the lack of air reaching his lungs.

Pleasure filled her as she watched his life fading till finally she couldn’t hold on to her scream of exultation. Letting it loose as she ripped his spirit from its dying husk, her screeching wail filled the night waking the barkeep from his restful sleep, as shivers of ice spread down his spine on hearing the ghastly wail something he would never forget.

She had held his soul firmly in her grasp as she sailed through the night back to her home to imprison it like those before in her glass prison. She cackled as those held within beseeched her for mercy. ‘Mercy indeed,’ she thought, ‘what mercy did you show me?’

The night began to fade as she hid her jar back below the cold stone where she kept it hidden from anyone who might come nosing about her cottage for there had been one or two since her death, seeking for any valuables not already taken by those that came before; she too had remained in hiding in those early days.

She wished then for some secret room but when it came and the little food store was boarded over she had come to regret this wish but once freed to roam the night again was thankful in a strange ungrateful way toward the hag who’d had her boarded in and kept her trapped with the crosses placed everywhere around the small cottage.

Chapter 13

They collected the brushes and the shovel from where they had left them before the break for lunch. With them they headed into the walled garden making their way up the hill inside to the top passing rides on either side and the large green house on the left half way up, that now housed one of the many eating places in the park as they went.

“Where did all the mud come from?” Andy asked as they got near the top of the hill with the new ride, to the left, at the back of the walled enclosure, behind the glass eatery.

“Off the tyres of the Manitou’s,” Micky said as he thought where best to start.

“I think we’ll need to use the shovel to loosen it before brushing it up,” stated Andy as he looked at the thick muddy clots of earth that covered the wide concrete pathway.

“Yeah, well I think we’ll leave that till last and get the rest of the paths done first,” Micky put the shovel against a hut used for selling ice cream even though the same type of refreshment could be gotten at the glass house a short distance away. Andy nodded his approval at this decision as he dreaded the effort it would take to lift the muck from the concrete.

As they began working away from the path that led to the Troika, as voices came up the garden as the maintenance crew headed leisurely back to work.

“Why do they get longer than us for lunch?” Andy thought it a little unfair and had asked this same question before.

“It’s not for us to question why but just do or die,” Micky used the old saying as he had previously for it was one of his favourite sayings when it came to work.

“Well I don’t fancy dying so I suppose I’ll just have to do, what ever that is,” Andy joked.

“Well when you’re ready you can get started then,” Micky said cockily.

“Cheeky shit,” Andy brushed some leaves towards Micky’s feet.

“Watch my good shoes,” Micky sound truly offended.

“Right, if that’s you’re good shoes I’d hate to see your other ones,” Andy’s wide smile beamed at his friend.

“Are you dissing my shoes,” Micky acted shocked.

“There’s nothing to diss,” Andy giggled the words.

“That’s just plain nasty,” he acted hurt as the crowd of maintenance works turned along the other path towards the ride they had been toiling at all morning.

“What? The truth hurt,” Andy laughed.

“It would only hurt if it were true,” Micky tried to sound suave.

“Okay old man if you say so,” Andy pretended to be sorry as he pushed more leaves to join the slowly growing pile both men were creating as they worked.

“Less of the old if you don’t mind,” Micky laughed at his nerve.

“As I said, does the truth hurt,” he laughed aloud.

“YOU TWO PACK IN THE CARRY ON AND GET SOME WORK DONE!” Charlie shouted from the main pathway with a big grin plastered across his face.

“WHEN DO YOU GET STARTED THEN?!” Micky called back.

“PRIVILEGE OF BEING GAFFER!” Charlie replied as he turned the corner on his way.

“Get the shovel and we’ll dump this lot in a bag,” Micky said putting his brush against the Crazy Worm’s fence, with its large apple tunnel, then took the roll of bags from his belt where he’d kept them since that morning ready for when they were needed.

“Okay,” Andy laid his broom up against the opposite fencing before casually going to retrieve the shovel.

The winter debris was scooped up into the open bag that Micky held, as he had all morning, whilst letting Andy do the work; which he did without thinking or questioning.

So they worked through the afternoon in a like manner, sweeping up a small pile of dross, putting it into a bag then sweeping some more. Once they had two bags full Micky would take them down to the skip using the side gate that led straight to the large container. Andy would continue to sweep while Micky was away.

By late afternoon only the main thoroughfare remain to be done with its muddy tracks from the heavy machinery used to deliver the parts for the new ride to its location.

“You scrape with the shovel to loosen up the muck and I’ll brush into the side verge,” Micky said as he lifted the last bag he hoped he’d be dumping that day.

“Will we not need to put it in a bag for the skip?” Andy seemed surprised that Micky just wanted to brush it to the side verge of the rides rather than pick it up and get rid of it.

“No, it should be okay to just brush this lot to the side, after all it just soil off of the tyres of the Manitou,” Micky said as he turned on his way to the skip, “you get a start at loosening it up.”

“All right,” Andy still had the shovel in his hand from lifting the last load into the bag so began scraping at the concrete. The metal grated loudly as the dry earth broke up easily. He had made good progress by the time Micky returned.

“In a bit of a hurry for more work or something?” Micky joked as he took his brush from where he’d left it.

“Just giving you something to do then you might actually do some work for a change,” Andy raised his eyebrows playfully.

“Oh, is that right maybe I should just stand here then and let you get on with it, eh?” Micky nodded toward his tall friend.

“Well there wouldn’t be much of a change there then,” Andy sniggered.

“Cheeky big shit,” Micky also laughed a little at the younger man’s cheek as the stiff bristles of his brush created clouds of dust, as he began to sweep, which the soft breeze carried slowly away.

“When do you think Charlie will need us?” Andy asked as he scooped some of the loose soil throwing it under the fencing at the side of the path.

“No idea,” Micky answered, “that’s if they even need us,” he added looking up beyond the greenhouse to where the other men laboured but couldn’t see much as the glass structure blocked most of the view.

“What’s the time by the way?” Andy looked at the sun low in the sky.

Micky stopped to look at his watch. “Fuck, its going on five,” he declared his shock at how late it had gotten.

“I hope you don’t swear like that when there are customers in the park?” The voice of their boss came from behind them.

Both men turned to see what the woman wanted. “Oh, sorry about that just taken aback at the time,” Micky quickly answered.

“Yes, well anyway, how are you getting on?” She said looking at the muddy tracks.

“Slowly but we’re getting there,” Micky looked at the progress they’d already made which didn’t seem much to him as they really had only begun.

“Well it needs to be done before we finish tonight,” she said before adding, “so, when can you both work to?”

“Well, till the light starts fading I suppose,” Mick frowned thoughtfully.

“I’m the same,” Andy agreed with his more experienced colleague.

“Well let’s hope you finish before then,” she smiled at the two men, “but thank you for helping out, we really appreciate it.”

“Charlie said he might need our help with the cars on the Troika but we should still get this lot finished though,” Micky thought it best to let his boss know about Charlie.

“Will you still be able to sweep this up?” She asked with a look of concern at not listening to what Micky had fully said.

“Yeah, no problem with any luck,” Micky straightened his stiff back.

“Good, good,” the woman nodded her expression relaxing, “alright then, I be back in about an hour to see how you’re getting on then, okay.” At that she turned around and left the men to their work.

“She could have given us a hand if she’d wanted,” Andy said after she had gone.

“Yeah right,” Micky shook his head, “we’ll really see that happening, won’t we.”

“Well if we had a hand we’d get finished earlier,” Andy paused his scraping as he spoke, leaning on the handle of his utensil.

“Well we’ve not got that option have we so let’s just get on with it,” Micky pushed more loose earth aside as the breeze picked up the dust cloud as if it were smoke.

“But you have to admit it’s true though,” Andy persisted.

“Yeah, but the same could be said that if you’d stop just standing there and got some work done, we’d be finished sooner too,” Micky grinned at Andy as he spoke.

“I was just let you catch up a bit,” Andy smiled back then returned to loosening the dried mud.

“Never mind about me catching up as you can help sweep after you’ve done that,” Micky created more clouds of dust.

“Sure you don’t want me to just get on and do it all myself,” Andy joked over his shoulder.

“Well if you want but I thought you’d need a hand,” Micky pushed some soil at Andy with his broom. It clouded around Andy’s legs.

“Hey,” exclaimed the taller man as he threw some muck back towards Micky. Both laughed at the other then got back to the task at hand.

Finally they reached the top of the hill. Micky looked back down at the now, much cleaner wide main pathway. His back niggled painfully at him as he stretched to loosen the stiffness from stooping all day to brush.

“MICKY!” Charlie’s shout brought him to look in the direction of the Troika, “CAN YOU AND YOUR MATE GIVE US A HAND NOW!”

“BE RIGHT THERE!” Micky called back. “Looks like they need us after all,” he said to Andy as he past the younger man and leaned the broom he’d been using against the ice-cream hut. Andy put his shovel next to the broom.

“What do you think they need us for anyway?” Andy asked as they strolled along the path to the waiting maintenance man.

“Well we’ll soon find out,” Micky replied as they approached Charlie.

“Give us a hand pushing the cars down so we can lock them in place,” Charlie explained.

“No problem,” both men said almost as one, both with a similar dumb look on their faces.

They joined the other men grouped near one of the cars. Micky looked at his wrist to see the time, knowing it was getting late as the sun was dipping towards the misty horizon. The hands of his watch told it was almost twenty past six.

“In a rush to go some where?” Chippy asked cheerily.

“Home for dinner,” Micky smiled back at the carpenter, “So you got nothing else to do today I take it?”

“Well, not really but I’ll need to be in early to fix the fence before the park opens,” he motioned at the large section of the wooden enclosure that had been removed for easier access to the ride, as Micky nodded understandingly.

“Right,” Charlie said as he approached the group of men standing next to the red car, “let’s get this car locked in place and then get the last of them done before it gets too dark to work.”

The crowded group turned to face the car ready to push as one.

Chapter 14

As the shadows grew longer she left her room and made her way up into the main house to wait for dark. She watched from the window waiting to see the two men from the previous day.

As she waited she thought of the joy she had felt on the night she had sought her revenge on the laird so many years ago. He had thought he was safe from her, hiding in his mansion.

It had been a cold damp miserable night. He’d made sure the servants had secured all the doors and windows with shouts of abuse, “Get a move on you bunch of tottering hedge-born measle’s.”

She spied from the cover of the nearby trees, hiding in the branches listening to his vulgar mouth. She wondered if he’d speak so rudely to her, she hoped he would.

“God damn you fucking bunch of miscreant sons of sows.”

At last every window was check as well as all the doors for the umpteenth time that evening. At that the fear was gone for how could anything get to him now. He relaxed at last ordering food to be brought to his room with the same foul mouth; after all he’d always told himself it was the only way to deal with these inferior beings, though his father had always frowned on him for doing so.

She waited till it was late and he was sure to be safely tucked up in his bed before she moved to do her terrible deed; to fulfil her need for vengeance and so to hopefully find the peace she believed it would hold.

Sailing into the air from her perch she drifted to his window she tapped lightly at one of the small square panes of glass. When no sound came from inside she started to tap harder then scratch her talons down the small windowpane to the frame holding the glass in place. Finally she heard his gruff voice cursing at the disturbance to his peace.

She sailed higher above the window as he pulled the heavy drapes aside then opened the wooden shutters to gaze out into the darkness. When he saw nothing he pulled the curtains together nervously leaving the casement open to the night, no sooner back in his bed than the noise began again. Each time she began to softly tap, the tapping getting louder whilst listening for his approach towards the window to see if he could find the damnable culprit that was interfering with his nights sleep.

After several repeated return journeys to the window with no joy he decided to wait behind the curtain for the noise to return. She could feel his presence hiding, waiting. The fear ebbed and flowed up through the building filling her with excitement, as a feeling of shear exuberating evil grew inside.

The power she had drawn from her other victims had strengthened her but now she felt all powerful, stronger than she had ever been aware of or could be possible before. The fact that now her revenge would soon be complete, made her feel even greater malevolence towards the weak snivelling cowered trying to hide inside and with her final revenge she would be free from the curse she had invoked, free to finally find the rest she felt would be rightly hers.

After what seemed an age the young man standing in his night dress could stand the cold drafts that played about his legs no longer. He crossed the large high ceiling room to the heat of the cracking fire to warm himself. As he did so she pushed her way through the glass following the laird silently till he turned to stare into her white cold eyes.

He took a step back as her gaze held his, the heat pushed him back. As he moved forward he found to his growing dread he could not stop as he moved ever closer to the leering grotesque form that stood a couple of feet away from him.

As he came closer she broke her gaze as if suddenly disinterested, floated slowly over to his dresser with its wig on its pedestal and other finery for beautifying himself with. She looked down waiting for his reaction hoping to make this moment last, to savour every last second which, as she looked back she realized was her mistake.

He retreated from the fire to his bed and the pot cabinet on top of which sat the bible he had taken to keeping there. He snatched the book from where it sat feeling less fearful with it in his hands.

“What do you want with me?” He asked as the apparition continued to look over his possessions on his large dresser and he drew courage from the object in his hands.

After a moment she looked slowly round at the being of her anger with a cold deliberate fascination as she sensed his fear had subsided. “Don’t you know? Am I so different? Maybe if I looked like this you would know,” she said as she changed to appear as she had in life.

His eyes widened in recognition, “You,” he had suspected, yet feared to truly believe, in a futile hope that by not believing it would make it go away.

“Yes, me the one you plotted and condemned and for what?” the venom she felt toward the man spilled into her voice, “my mothers small bit of land.”

“That your mother obtained from my father through witchcraft,” he sounded defiant feeling a renewed confidence from the book now clutched firmly against his chest.

“Witchcraft,” She mocked.

“Yes,” he said less sure of himself.

“Oh, dear brother how wrong you are,” she watched as the words slammed into his mind.

“Brother! I’m no brother of yours!” He exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh, but you are. Why else do you think you’re father was so generous to my mother?” She cackled as the reality revealed, stung the laird.

“She put a spell on him that’s how,” he tried to deny what he now saw to be true as he remember how when this young woman had visited the manor his father had always been keen to speak to her before she left after delivering her errands. He also remembered how his mother always hated the girl as if she were some sort of threat.

“A spell, is that what you call love, lust,” she smiled maliciously.

“No, it can not be. You were condemned as a witch and the proof now stands before me but I cast you out by the power of our risen lord,” he stood fire in his eyes demanding her to be vanquished by his words.

Her anger reach to the point she could no longer contain it, transforming her back to the distorted creature of the night that sought out the souls of those that had wronged her. And before her stood the last of these, her own half brother who had not known she was his flesh and blood. The one behind all that had befallen her.

She rose as she could no longer contain the rage within, having to release some of it before she lost all control. Her mouth open emitting her soul chilling scream as she darted forward, talons reaching for his succulent juicy soul.

His eyes widened as fear once again filled his being. He gripped the bible tighter as the grasping form darted for him. Her hand crashed against the book as her face came, screaming, within inches of his. She howled her disgust and pain as she was thrown across the room.

Again she tried to have her revenge but to no avail as the book protected the now white haired man. His grip growing tighter, knuckles white with the exertion his eyes wide almost with madness as his fear filled the air; as she screamed her fury before leaving, retreating to her lair.

Her screeching cry brought the servants to their ungrateful master’s room to find the laird babbling demanding the make hast his coach. They had to calm him, though they were shocked by his appearance, enough to wait till morning before leaving never to return to his accursed castle mansion.

And with his leaving so she became trapped in her existence to haunt the wood bringing fear to those who wandered the forest after dark.

Chapter 15

Micky pushed the car downward toward the centre of the ride with the other men so Charlie and Chippy could put the locking bolt in place. The men strained against the pressure of the hydraulic piston contained in the arm that pushed the cars out so they leaned at an astute angle when the ride was in operation.

“A bit more,” Charlie egged the men on for an extra inch which they gave him. “Hold it there,” he said as he pushed the final bolt in to the hole then struck it with a large rubber hammer to drive it through to the other side.

Chippie quickly put the locking nut on and began tightening it up as the men holding the car relaxed glad that it was the last of the cars.

“Is that the last of them?” Andy asked from the side lines as there had been no space for him to help.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Charlie said as he came round the car, “what have you got left to do?”

“We’ve just got that over there to brush,” Micky pointed to the area that he and Andy had been just about to brush half an hour before. He noticed the sun had gone for another day as a mist began to form in the rapidly cooling air.

“Well you better get cracking as here comes Sandra,” Charlie said as Micky’s boss turned the corner heading to where Micky was.

“Yeah, the sooner it’s done the sooner I get home,” Micky stated before trudging to get his brush with Andy close behind.

“How’s it going?” Sandra asked as Micky came closer.

“Just got this little bit to do. We would have been finished but Charlie needed us for a hand with the last of the cars,” Micky explained as Andy stood besides him.

“That’s fine, so you should finish that before you leave then?” She asked but didn’t expect an answer.

“Yeah,” Micky replied anyway.

“Good, good right I’ll just have a word with Charlie as you both finish up before the last of the light goes then,” she said then left the two men to get on with their task.

Micky brushed as before whilst Andy used his shovel to break up the dried mud. They worked quickly with an urgency that they hadn’t had all day under the watchful eye of their boss. The night was coming on fast and the fog grew more substantial as the work progress to its end.

“Well that looks like it,” Micky said feeling satisfied as he brushed the last of the soil from the path.

“Thank god,” Andy felt tired from the day’s exertion.

“I’ll just let Sandra know that’s us for the day and we’ll get off,” Micky said then turned heading towards where his boss stood chatting with the head of the maintenance.

Micky waited till there was a gap in the conversation before speaking, “that’s us finished so we’ll be going now.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she said looking round to see for herself, “okay I’ll see you tomorrow at quarter to eleven then and thanks for all the work.”

“Quarter to eleven,” he repeated, “no problem, see you all in the morning then.” At that he turned happy to finally be on his way.

As he left Charlie called after him, “hey, Micky remember not to go into the woods tonight or the ghosty might bite your arse,” with a hoot of laughter from all the other workmen.

“I’ll just tell it you’ll give her a big kiss as that would scare anybody,” Micky laughed back at the maintenance man. Everyone joined him in his glee.

“We’re not really going through the woods are we?” Andy didn’t like the idea but knew it was the fastest way home saving them at least twenty minutes.

“Why? You don’t really believe all that shit about ghosts and stuff, do you?” Micky mocked his younger companion.

“No, not really but I don’t want to find out I’m wrong,” Andy said trying to shrug off his apprehension.

“Well if you are wrong just slide home on my shit,” Micky joked as they passed through the side gate.

“Slide home on your shit? I’ll be sliding home on my own never mind yours,” Andy sound more jovial than he felt.

“Well I’ll let you take the lead then,” Micky found this hilarious, laughing all the way into the cabin to collect their things. With their bags over their shoulders they left the cabin then turned left towards the woods and for home as Micky’s jollity subsided.

“I’ll be glad to have a lie in tomorrow,” Andy said once Micky’s mirth died away.

“Just don’t sleep to long ‘cause you’ve got work in the morning,” Micky still smiling reminded his friend.

“Yeah, yeah I know but I still get a bit longer to snooze,” Andy relaxed forgetting about the local legend.

“What you on tomorrow anyway?” Micky asked changing the subject.

“I’m not sure I think it’s the Amazon Barrel Roll,” Andy said thoughtfully.

“An easy day for you then,” Micky nodded.

“What have you got?” Andy returned the question.

“Me, the coaster over there,” he motioned to the ride they were approaching with his thumb, “The Witches Drop,” he added theatrically.

“What’s that like?”

“Alright when the parks busy as you’re kept going all day but just as boring as all the rest when it’s not,” Micky said knowledgably.

“Do you think it will be busy tomorrow?” Andy asked.

“No, not really, maybe Sunday or Monday it might not be to bad but the first day’s usually pretty dull,” Micky turned the corners of his mouth down as he spoke.

“Why’s that?”

“Just the way it is. Mind you they spent a fortune on advertising this year so you never know,” Micky didn’t think it would be any different this year even with the ads running on TV over the past week.

“Yeah, I saw the ads on the box,” Andy said knowing he’d talked about them with Micky the other day. “My mum has been going on about them all week as well. She thinks it’s funny that I’m working here and there’s them advertising how much fun it is on the telly.”

“Really,” Micky said unsurprised.

“Yeah, she keeps saying that I’ll have no time for any fun,” Andy smiled.

“Well, she’s wrong there because you can have as much fun with the punters as you want,” Micky knew just how good it was to joke along with the customers as well as wind them up if they looked scared or asked a silly question which happened all to often.

On the horizon the day could be seen following the sun leaving the cold night to the rising moon to casting its light through the fog. The trees appeared as eerie figures reaching out of the mist at the men as they exited the park into the dark depressing forest. Andy gave a shiver though he didn’t feel the cold as yet.

Chapter 16

The mist glowed as the moonlight shone through it giving it an other worldly look. Trees were reduced to shadows of themselves, only the closest recognisable for what they were. The road vanished into the whiteness, which surrounded the two men, a short few yards before them as the mist grew thicker in the chilly night air.

“Did you hear that,” Micky jokingly tried to worry Andy.

“What?” Andy responded as his older friend had hoped.

“I thought I heard something,” Micky said quietly as if afraid to be heard.

“What?” Repeated Andy fear prickling at the back of his mind though he tried to dismiss it as he suspected that Micky might just be trying play a practical joke on him.

“Well it sounded like a voice,” Micky continued his pretence.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Andy lowered his voice as he began to be drawn into the gag, “what did it say?”

“Well it sounded like,” Micky paused for affect, “Andy!” He sprang towards the tall younger man suddenly as he shouted out his name.

Andy jumped back almost losing his footing at the start that his friend had given him even though he had at first guessed this was his colleague’s intention. “You cunt!” He pushed the older man as he regained his balance, whilst Micky heehawed his glee.

“Hoi, careful or I’ll get the ghost to you,” Micky said as he staggered into the verge by the road.

“You started it,” Andy grinned back.

“Just trying to lighten you up,” Micky giggled back.

“Lighten me up or trying to scare the shit out of me so you can slide home faster?”

“Well that is an idea,” Micky’s breath added to the mist.

“You can do your own shitting if you want to go sliding anywhere,” Andy gave a shiver as the cold night began to seep in through his coat.

“Getting a bit chilly,” Micky commented though he to could feel damp coldness of the fog.

“Yeah,” Andy pushed his hands into his pockets for added warmth, “I’ll be glad to get home and get something to eat.”

“What’s your mum making you?”

“I told her I’d make something myself since I was working late tonight. What about you?”

“No idea what ever the girlfriend has thrown together I suppose,” Micky shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly.

“Oh, right I think I’ll just grab some roasted cheese or something. I’ve got a craving for roasted cheese though so I think I’ll just have that,” Andy could just about taste it as he made his decision.

“Is that all?” Micky said incredulously at the thought of just having a couple of slices of roasted cheese after a long days work.

“I make a pile of them,” Andy simply answered.

“Still, it doesn’t sound like much,” Micky didn’t think Andy had thought about it enough, after all melted cheese on toast was more a lunch or supper than a main meal to him.

“I’ll have plenty,” Andy knew he’d have half a loaf of bread and a bottle of cola to wash it all down, more than enough to fill him as he got on with his studies.

“Well, I’ll be having more than some roasted cheese I hope.”

“I’d laugh if when you got in that’s what your girlfriend had made up for you,” Andy chuckled at the thought of his friends face if that were true.

“She’d try it and get told were to go,” Micky said defiantly.

“Yeah and I bet she’d boot your balls for you,” Andy joked.

“I’ll boot yours if you’re not careful,” Micky nudged Andy playfully in his side as both hooted with laughter.

Out of the glowing fog the haunted house drifted into view looking more frightening to Andy’s eye cutting his jollity short as he glanced in its direction. Micky noticed the other man’s stiffening as he too looked at the crumbling facade.

“BOO!”

Andy gave a little jump at Micky’s shout. His heart raced, “Fuck, don’t do that.” The shock showed in his wide eyes as he stared at the hysterical figure next to him.

“What?” Micky said after a moment innocently, a guilty wide grin plastered across his face.

“You know what,” Andy’s heart still hammered away easing slowly back to its normal rate.

“I don’t believe you’re so easily frightened,” Micky shook his head.

“It just looks spooky that’s all,” Andy tried to excuse himself.

“Cause it’s foggy,” Micky said with disbelief evident in his voice.

“You don’t think it looks like something straight out of a horror film?” Andy asked trying to convince his friend.

“No, where’s the green lighting effects to give it that creepy look,” Micky said as they past the old tumble down building with its rubbish strewn over grown little front garden.

“Yeah, but I bet you’d not spend the night there by yourself,” Andy defended.

“Why would I do that when I’ve got a nice comfy bed at home?” Micky countered before adding, “Anyway it looks like the witches ghost isn’t home.”

“Well I’m still glad it’s behind us now,” Andy felt himself relax as the old house was left behind disappearing back into the fog as quickly as it had appeared.

“Unless that was another old house,” Micky tried to continue the teasing, unsuccessfully.

“Right and I’ll really believe that,” it was Andy’s turn to shake his head.

“Well you never know till you try,” Micky said cheerfully.

“I take it you’ll just be watching the telly tonight?” Andy asked more for something to say than real curiosity.

“Probably, though I might play the Playstation for a bit if I can’t find anything on the box.”

“What game are you playing?” He asked the older man.

“Hitman 2, so what you up to?”

“The studying that I was supposed to be doing last night but got railroaded from,” Andy hoped he’d get more revision done than he had the previous night.

“Till you’re friend drops by again that is,” Micky remembered how it used to be when he was at school studying for his exams and how hard he found it to get the time to revise as there was always something or someone to distract him from the homework he had to do.

“I hope not because I really need to get down and get some swotting done,” he said, “I know I’ve got plenty of time left before my exams but you know what its like.”

“Yeah.” Micky smiled knowingly.

A crying sound came through the mist, low plaintiff sounding like a child whimpering because they were lost, not sure where to get help. Both men look at each other then strained to see through the mist but saw nothing so picked up there pace to head along the roadway towards the sound.

“Is someone there?” Andy called out.

For a moment it went silent then crying came again in the same low whining way a child sounds. Still the men saw nothing but the trees on both side of them and the moonlit fog.

“Hello!” Micky called out more forcefully than his younger partner had a moment before. The crying continued this time without stopping.

Out of the mist a shadow appeared that turned quickly into a figure crouching, arms wrapped around the legs, face buried into its knees sobbing, white looking, long flowing hair hiding the side of her face. The small figure shook as the sobs grew in intensity. The girl wore a dress with a high waistline, short sleeves, which looked more like a nightdress than something that you’d wear on a cold foggy night.

Both men approach the girl, concern evident on their features. “Hello, are you alright?” Micky said quietly trying not to frighten the young girl.

“Are you lost?” Andy added as they came closer to the crouched figure.

The crying stopped as they stood looking down at the strangely dressed figure for such a chilly night. Andy reached down to touch the child’s shoulder but halted as the figure lifted its head and in one motion rose and turned towards them.

The men stood transfixed by the white eyes, twisted flattened nose, gaping mouth filled with sharp broken teeth. As it began to straighten, talon like fingers reached out to Andy’s wrist, eyes locking on his. A scream emanated from the creature, sending waves of fear through Micky as Andy was caught in a trance, fixed by the creatures gaze.

Micky grabbed out to his friend pulling him away from the ghastly apparition as it was about to grasp hold of Andy’s wrist. Micky dragged his colleague back along the way they had come.

Andy didn’t know where he was at first as he was hauled along stumbling as they went then pulled back to his feet.

“What the fuck was that?” Micky shouted out of breath as Andy finally came to his senses and began to move of his own accord.

“Oh God,” Andy whimpered.

“Come on it’s alright what ever it was its back there,” Micky assured the younger man.

“Are you sure….” Andy’s voice trailed off as ahead the screaming figure appeared out of the fog, hair flowing, arms stretched out toward them.

The men veered to the left into the woods to escape the screaming spectre. The sound causing chills to race up their spines. Adrenalin sending their hearts racing, pounding so hard that they were sure they would burst out of their chests.

They crashed through stinging branches that clawed and seemed to lash out at them. Andy stumbled again then Micky fell. Andy continued on after finding his balance again, without his buddy for a moment before noticing he wasn’t there. He stopped to return for Micky as the other man staggered to his feet. The two men crashed into each other as silence fell on them.

“What the fuck was that?” Micky asked again as they pushed away from each other.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out,” Andy answered his tall slender frame shaking from the panic he felt within.

“Where are we anyway?” Micky scanned the foggy wooded surroundings hoping to see something that would let him know.

“No idea,” Andy also began searching for some clue. “I knew we should have went the long way.”

“A bit late now,” Micky felt Andy was blaming him.

The scream came out of the mist again. They froze for a moment trying to make out where it came from then they began backing up unsure where the sound was emanating from but feeling safer just moving.

They turned as one, jogging at first, gaining speed as the screeching seemed to grow closer. Tree branches reached out for them but went unnoticed unless getting to close to their faces which were then brushed away by raised arms to save them from further scratches as they weaved, lost amongst the vegetation trying to escape the chilling sound that drove them on. Sweat stung at their eyes as it ran down their foreheads, breath billowed out of mouths in clouds as they gasped for air.

“We need to find the road,” Micky wheezed.

“Which way though?” Andy coughed out.

Something appeared to move to one side. They turned without thinking, heavy sodden legs protesting, away from what ever it was.

“This is not real,” Andy sobbed as the silence descended again.

They slowed as the quiet surrounded them. Stinging, watering eyes searched as they began to walk, legs weighed down from the moisture that had soaked into their jeans from the undergrowth, trying to regain their wind. Micky wiped his face with his sleeve in some vain hope it would allow him to see more clearly.

A branch broke behind; they didn’t look around as they tore off heedlessly. Anything was better than being caught by the thing that pursued them. Andy’s longer leg took him to the front as they crashed through more reaching branches.

A light appeared in the mist. Andy instinctively changed direction towards it, with Micky following close behind, unquestioning the sudden change. Micky wasn’t happy to follow as the sound of more snapping branches came from close behind. He could almost feel the claw like fingers reaching out for him and the fear drove him on.

Out of the fog a cottage formed as the wail came again so close it sent more adrenalin coursing through their blood giving a renewed burst of speed. Andy shot onward not seeing a half collapsed fence hidden by the undergrowth as he tore forward to the safety of the house.

It felt like someone had punched him hard to the groin knocking the breath from him as the wooden barrier ripped into him. Micky crashed into his back forcing the spear like protrusion deeper into Andy’s lower abdominal region. His legs buckled unable to take his weight any longer. Blood spread downwards as the wooden lance broke and he crashed to the ground as Micky landed on top of him then rolled away.

Andy groaned as the pain slammed up into his mind as he realized something was badly wrong. Micky got to his knees then looked over to his injured friend, panic plain on his face as he saw the broken end of a wooden spar sticking out of his friend.

“Fuck, shit,” Micky didn’t know what to do as his mind race. He looked over his shoulder at the little house then back to Andy. “God, oh fuck.” He moved to the other man’s side as the fear inducing screaming continued to haunt his ears, growing ever louder. He wished he had his phone with him but always left it at home as he knew there was little point in taking it to work as he never got a connection.

“Oh shit, Micky,” Andy pleaded for help holding up his wet sticky hand which his friend took then tried to help Andy up but stopped as the injured man let out a yell of pain and his legs failed to support him.

“I’ll get help,” Micky didn’t know what else to do as he gently as he could laid his friend back onto the ground, “they must have a phone in that house. I’ll be back with help in a minute,” he added but as he looked up he saw the ghoul slowly heading towards them from the woods out of the fog. He pushed himself backwards away from his wounded friend. He turned and rising onto his feet, stumbling to the waiting rear doorway his fear growing, panic setting in as he fought it to remain in control.

He banged with all his might, no answer came. He tried the handle finding the door unlocked he pushed it open. “Hello, hello,” how was he going to explain, “we need help!” His voice echoed back to him from the poorly lit interior as he stepped in through the door to the cottage.

Chapter 17

She circled the figure struggling to vainly pull himself along the ground, to escape her. Tears of fear and pain ran freely down the young man’s face mixing with the dirt that covered one cheek causing the muck to streak.

“Please,” he pleaded as he tried to stem the flow of oozing blood from the deep wound with one hand as he looked into the gloating eyes that now peered down at him.

She stooped down in front of him, kneeing beside him menacingly, savouring his fear. Reaching out with her claw like hand she touched the red stained wood sticking from his lower regions. She withdrew her blood stained fingers putting it to her wide gaping mouth. Her long dry, cracked looking tongue slowly licked at her talon as if to taste his blood.

Andy reached up to his neck, grasping his chain hidden under his clothing. As he gripped the chain the crucifix attached to it was pulled out from under his jumper and came to rest on his chest; the silver glinted in the strange light of the mist.

She watched angrily as her fun, her prize was so easily taken away from her, when her reward was so close. She reached up threateningly, her claws splayed wide as if she were about to strike.

Andy’s eyes opened fully, bulging as a cold dread seeped deep into his mind. His hand moved to the cross looking for some small comfort.

“No, please,” his voice was barely audible.

Her head fell back as she let loose her glorious, wonderful; terrifying scream then swung her claws menacingly within inches of Andy’s face. The full force she held back not wanting to waste her energy any longer on this weak pathetic creature.

He held his breathe unconsciously whilst he tried hard to force his eyelids to close so the horror of the vision before him could go unseen as it did what it wanted to his defenceless frame.

She turned away from him with disdain, no longer interested in him, happy with the thought that his death would not be long and he would die alone. She headed for the house the one inside would just have to do, after all one new trinket to her collection was better than none.

Andy released his breathe then sucked in more of the damp cold night air as he watched the creature drift silently towards the small house. When it vanished from sight he tried to pull himself along the ground to get away incase it came back to finish off the job but found himself to weak from the loss of blood so simply slumped onto the ground.

Chapter 18

Micky looked around the dimly lit room. Only a single candle gave light to the small room from its position near the curtainless window, poorly reflected on the grimy small square glass pane above the old sink with a pump handled water faucet, straight out of the nineteenth century. The room was bare, other than the candle, making it look abandoned and unused but he needed help for Andy so stepped into the room closing the door behind him without thinking.

“Hello!” He called out tentatively hoping for someone to aid him. Only silence returned once the echoes of his greeting died away.

He moved forwards further into the small dank smelling bare room. If it hadn’t been for the candle he would have been sure this small house was empty. The floor creaked at each step making him feel cautious.

He turned, panic rising as the dreadful screeching howl of the thing slammed his senses from outside. He quickened his stride as he crossed the space to two doors that offered the possibility of some assistance.

“Hello!” He tried again as he opened the closest of the openings. Beyond lay a dark uninviting passageway, “hello, is anybody there!”

Again no answer came to his waiting ears. ‘Fuck,’ he thought, ‘where is someone.’ He started down the narrow corridor realizing he now was walking on a hard stone floor as his footsteps echoed around him. He stopped unsure what to do as the darkness enclosed him. He turned back to the door and the small dim light that the room offered.

He re-entered through the aperture to the space he’d started. As he pushed his way through the doorway, a young girl that he judged to be, about fourteen stepped in front of him, as the door closed behind.

She seemed to be dressed strangely in a long gown that reached nearly to her ankles, wide at the hips which made it look old like some sort of period costume. She cocked her head to one side as if she were interested in why he was there.

“Hello,” he said, “can you help me? My friend needs help.”

“You can’t go out there; didn’t you hear the witch’s banshee,” she said quietly as a smile spread mischievously across her pretty face. He barely noticed it in the faint light.

“But Andy, my mate needs help. Have you got a phone?” he pleaded.

“No, and it’s too late for him if he’s out there with the banshee. There’s nothing to be done till the morning,” she reached out touching him on the chest suggestively.

Micky brushed her hand away then took hold of her by the shoulders in the hope of getting her to help. “You don’t understand he’s hurt and I can’t just leave him out there we’ve got to do something to help him,” he again tried to get the girl to understand that they, he couldn’t just stand there waiting till morning with Andy lying outside hurt. Guilt edged its way through his mind at leaving his buddy out there to the mercy of the wailing abominable thing that had chased them through the forest. Fear though was greater, preventing him from going alone.

“And I told you there nothing to be done,” she said angrily pushing him away with more force than he thought the small girl could possibly muster.

He fell back against the other door, surprised at her strength, it groaned at the unexpected weight coming to rest against it. “But we can’t just stay here,” he tried again, not understanding her reluctance to help him.

“What else can you do? After all you left him out there, didn’t you?” She sounded irritated.

“I know but I thought I could get help and now you don’t want to help. Why?” He put his hands out as if in supplication.

“Enough of your friend,” she said moving closer to him suggestively.

“No,” it was his turn to push her away, “I need you to help.”

Seething look of annoyance flashed in her eyes. “And what do you want me to do? It was you that left him out there.”

He shook his head not knowing how to answer her accusing tone. How was he going to help Andy, he was too afraid to go outside by himself but she seemed to know what it was that had chased them through the woods.

“I know, I know,” he said sounding as lost as he felt. It suddenly occurred to him he still had no idea where he was or who this strangely dress girl was, “by the way where are we?”

“Does it matter?”

He felt that she was being evasive. “I just thought if you’ve got neighbours near by maybe they could help.”

“No neighbours,” he thought he saw a smile as she said this.

His shoulder slouched as it sank in that he couldn’t aid his friend. “It’s probably too late for Andy now anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she moved closer to him again.

“Who are you by the way? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” he’d thought he knew just about everybody around New Mills and surrounding area yet had never seen her before.

“Never mind who I am,” she said placing one finger on his chest, “we’ve got plenty of time to get to know one another.”

“Wow, hold on there I can’t stay here,” he stepped back against the door his hand reached behind him searching for the handle unsure where he could go but sure he couldn’t stay here with this young girl.

“But you aren’t going anywhere,” as she said this his hand found the handle. He turned it as the girl began to change before him. Terror rose as the girl became the thing that had pursued them in the mist emitting the same chilling scream. He pulled at the door but as he tried to twist through the opening she screamed and in one motion pushed her hand into his chest grasping hold of his hearts soul.

His body fell back, down to the damp cellar. He didn’t shout out, there was no time for she had ripped his life force from its shell. Though he had felt the pain as she took his life it was too quick for his physical form to cry out in protest. His spirit screams but only seemed to add to the screech the grotesque creature filled the air with as the thing held his soul firmly in her grasp.

He tried to get out of the grip that held him but to no avail. She carried him into the cellar through to her secret place.

“In you go with the others,” she said as she pushed him through the lid of the jar, imprisoning him as she had done to her other trophies her mark glowing faintly on the cork stopper as he was deposited into the glass vessel.

She watched him for a while as he pleaded to be released as had the others when she had added them to her collection. She felt her darkness ease as she gloatingly ran one of her talons down the glass.

After a short time of this she tired of it, turned leaving the jar on its plinth. Into the basement she passed and took her solid form to gather the corpse that lay at the foot of the old wooden stairway.

She lifted it with little effort onto her shoulder. Up to her kitchen then out to where Andy still lay bleeding, gasping for air as his life ebbed away. She dumped Micky’s lifeless form near to his friend.

“Please,” Andy whispered, almost inaudibly. She ignored him leaving him to die with Micky’s cold form near by, alone.

Andy watched her go, shuddering as he heard the door close with a creak then a loud thud. He no longer noticed the chill as he inhaled the cold foggy night air for the last time. His hand slid away from his upper body; leaving his crucifix lying, gleaming in the strange misty light of the night, on his chest as his sightless eyes watched his spirit rise from the container that had house it in life.

He looked around unsure where he should go till he saw the bright light shining from the woods. He slowly at first moved towards the warmth the white light offered then he heard his grandfather’s voice calling to him from the brightness. He picked up his pace and began to race to the loved ones waiting for him.

She saw the light from the kitchen yet knew it was not for her and never could be for she was the vengeance, the judge; there was no place in the light for her, only the wonder of the night.

Chapter 19

The unmarked police car came to a halt, as the sun burned away the last of the mist from the previous night, behind the large blue plain transit van used by forensics on the narrow farm track. Detective John Munroe climbed out as his younger colleague turned off the engine then joined him as he walked towards the police tape around the old derelict cottage. A uniformed officer nodded as he lifted the tape to allow access to the site for the senior ranking officers.

“It’s round the back, sir,” the uniformed figure said pointing down a path already cleared to make it easier to get to the scene of crime.

John gave a quick nod of his head then with his partner following close behind made his way round the small ramshackle structure to the rear overgrown garden. As he turned the corner of the building he heard the sound of the photographer clicking away so none of the evidence would be lost and so they could build a time frame of the events.

He carefully approached a figure, he recognized as his good friend Dr Winters, leaning over something he took to be a body. As he got closer he could make out that what his friend was examining was the corpse of a man in his late twenties. He could see no visible signs of injury, not far from this he speedily took in the very different corpse of a younger man clearly lying in a pool of his own blood with something spear like extending from his lower abdomen.

“So what have we got Winters?” John asked less from curiosity than for something to say.

“Two male caucasains, the younger one over there seems to have died due to exsanguination but this one I’ll not really be able to tell you much about till the autopsy as there are no visible marks to suggest cause of death,” Winters state in his usual factual manner.

“So we’ve got one murder and one possible?” John put it as a question though was already in his own mind summing it up.

“It’s a bit early to say that. No at the moment it looks like the younger one fell or possibly was pushed onto that fence impaling himself. We’ll need to gather the evidence first before making any conclusions,” Winters knew John though just wanted some quick answers as he always did yet seldom got to his chagrin.

“So some sort of weird accident then?” John’s younger associate asked from behind him.

“Well that’s still to be determined we’ll not know for sure till all the facts of the case are looked over,” the doctor looked at the other officer then back at his old friend, “but on what I can determine so far it could be but don’t hold me to that just yet.”

“No surprises there then,” John smiled knowing this was the normal way thing went with Winters, always making things more difficult than they needed to be for him.

“Do we know who they are?” John wanted to get on with the investigation.

“Yes, I’d like you to meet Micky Chambers and his friend over there is Andy McArthur,” Winters said theatrically.

“Who found them?” John looked around to see if he could spot the subject of his question.

“Some guy walking his dog. They had to take him home though as he was really shook up,” the doctor had been ready for this enquiry.

“Is there anything else we know about them so far?”

“Well, I thought that was you’re job to tell me,” the doctor answered eyebrows raised in an inquiring manner.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” John had seen enough and knew that he wouldn’t get anything more from Winters so made his way to have a closer look at the other body.

“You know the local myth about this place don’t you?” John’s subordinate queried.

“You mean the witches ghost? Yeah, I’ve heard it before,” John nodded, “Got told about it back in the seventies when I first got assigned around these parts. The old sergeant was one of the officers called out to this place back in sixty eight when a bunch of druggies tried to make this into their commune and overdose here or something. It was never really solved so the locals put it down to this place being haunted. A load of shit, if you ask me though.”

“So what do you think happened to the druggies then?”

“Probably overdosed as I said but you know what locals are like,” John said dismissively as he glanced down at Andy’s still form.

“Didn’t one of them survive?”

“Yeah, a girl but apparently she had amnesia or so she claimed when she came to in the hospital,” John had been interested in the story when he first arrived but now it all seemed to far fetched to him. He never could work out why the girl hadn’t been question more thoroughly at the time.

“What happened to her?”

“She moved away.”

The End