Thursday, 24 February 2022

HAUNTING CHAPTER ONE

 

HAUNTING



Chapter 1

The letter is one I’d been waiting for weeks to be delivered. The writer is a friend of mine and we have worked together for many years. Our line of work is unusual in its way, as it comes under the title of paranormal activity, ghost-hunting in other words. I contacted my friend and we agreed that we should meet on the 17th of December in Edinburgh in Scotland. Thomas lives in Salisbury, and I’m John, and I live in London. We decided to travel by train, and Thomas contacted another friend who lives in Edinburgh, to ask if he knew where we could rent digs for the Ghostly Hunt. Kenneth is the name of this associate and as he lives in Edinburgh he has nicely agreed to let us stay with him for this length of time.

Kenneth is married to Maria, while Thomas and I are single. Oh, we both were getting ready to get hitched, but we found out that we were in love with the same girl. Rather than break our friendship, we decided it would be better and more civilised to keep our friendship, and let the lady go. A good choice by us, as later we found out that she was playing us both. Lynda married some man called Brian; tales we’ve heard, we had a lucky escape.

We arrive at the train station to find it’s snowing heavily. The wind is bitter and I can’t wait to get to Kenneth’s place to get warm. A Taxi cab got us there eventually, however the cab swerved all over the road on the black ice. Thomas knocked the door and it opened immediately. “Come on in,” Kenneth said, I looked up, and behind him stood the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Maria had red auburn hair and green eyes, a real looker. As the door is opened the delicious smell of cooking food made us feel faint, as neither one of us had eaten anything, not even breakfast this morning, we thought we’d eat something out. However this didn’t happen, and there’d been no buffet carriage on the train.

Maria smiled a welcome, and asked us to sit down by the open fire while she put dinner on the table. We were frozen to the marrow, but thawed out eventually. Maria went back and forth carrying the dinner, and then came an answer to a prayer: “Dinner is served, people!” At least, I think that’s what she said, in her Scottish accent.

The more food we ate the more we wanted. It was the best meal I’d had for years. The wine was poured and we drank about three glasses. Maria cleared the dishes away and we asked if she needed a hand to wash up. She chuckled, “Oh no, I can manage very well, but thank you, chaps – ” I think that’s what she said. After sweet we returned to the fire and drank a few glasses of the finest malt whisky. I began to doze and kept waking myself up, as I felt bad-mannered. Thomas suddenly declared, “I think I’ll go to bed.” Kenneth told us to follow him saying, “I’ll show you to your rooms.” We each had our own room. I did wash my face, and then fell onto the bed. I don’t remember any more until the next morning at six o’clock, as Kenneth and Maria are early risers.

I slept on again until about ten o’clock, as I was still hungover. I managed to get a shower and shave, although I cut myself with the razor.

Again the aroma of cooking breakfast was staggering. I entered the kitchen, and then was shown to the dining room where the table was set ready for us. Thomas was already there and this astonished me, as he had had a few too many like me. We shared a very large breakfast and several cups of coffee. We sat near the fire and planned our days out to Grange Cottage; we set the plans of what instruments we would take to help us. We did ask Kenneth about stories he’d heard about this residence.

Not sure I should say, as it might put you off going there,” he answered.

We did insist on hearing some of the stuff folk had witnessed.

I believe it will be better if I start at the beginning.”

Kenneth then told us about the terrible happenings at the cottage and the hauntings.

It all began with the Davis family in the eighteen hundreds, and tales began to circulate about Mr Davis’s mother. The local folk at that time said he kept his mother chained up in the cellar. One of the domestics that worked for them reported she had to go to the cellar for a fresh bottle of wine and discovered the old woman hidden behind a recess in the wall, chained to her bed. The way she looked made her drop the bottle in her hand and she had to choose another; she reported that she couldn’t leave that basement fast enough. The young domestic had to forfeit her pay to replace the bottle she had broken. She told folk the old woman in the cellar looked terrified, but that the old woman could not speak. In confidence the young domestic mentioned it to another person that worked for them. Lorna, the young domestic, was warned not to say a word about it to anyone. It’s also reported that the elder domestic told her that the elderly woman in the cellar was chained up because she was worshipping the devil in a black mass, and the family caught her, and then bad things began to happen in the cottage. Other family members began worshipping the black arts. The elder domestic went on to say to Lorna that that was the reason she’d been chained. “That’s no reason to chain her up for this kind of pathetic behaviour, is it?” the young domestic said. There was a harsh warning from the other, and she was told to leave it be.

Kenneth went on, “By the way, the cottage has been torn down and rebuilt to try and stop bad things going on in there.”

We were not told about that,” Thomas said.

Well, anyway it hasn’t stopped the hauntings, and actually the cottage caught fire for reasons unknown, the police thought it might have been arson, but could never prove it,” Kenneth answered.

After the horror story Kenneth told us we had misgivings about going to this place, as my skin crawled at what I had heard. I noticed Thomas look at me and he’d spotted, that I was beginning to wonder as well.

Thomas was silent for a while, and then he said, “Well it’s up to you, John, whether we go on this hunt or not.”

The real problem is that devil worship is involved in this, and we’d both had a very bad experience with the last one involving the black art.

We toyed with the idea until after lunch and both decided to go and take a look at the place for ourselves. We realised it would be dark when we reached there, but thought nothing might happen in daylight. Kenneth kindly loaned us his car and we set out. It was quite a treacherous journey and of course the snow did not help at all. We had a puncture and it took a long time to change the tyre because of the freezing atmosphere. I was thinking maybe we were getting these hold-ups to prevent us from proceeding to the cottage.

At last we arrived in a dishevelled state. As we approached the Cottage, the whole atmosphere felt menacing. Nothing was normal, the cottage and stark trees with the snow had a yellow look. Now my skin was prickling. Even the stars were of a yellow jaundiced colouring. We sat in silence, each knowing what the other was thinking and feeling.

Okay,’ Thomas suddenly announced, “we are here, let’s go in and take a quick nosey around.”

I placed my hand on the door post and then onto the door, and I received a very nasty sensation, like an electric shock. “Oh God!” I shout. Thomas opens the door, the stink is overwhelming and we cover our noses, we are shocked by this as it’s so cold outside and we thought this would stop the rotting of flesh. Inside is littered with leaves twigs and some dead animals. These look as if they’ve been eaten by something. I have the feeling we are being watched. Hair on my neck is stood on end.

We flash our torch lights around and notice a mist coming up from the floor. This is when every nerve in our bodies freezes as there are shadows in this mist, dark and grisly, misshapen entities. The shadows made way for something else, an old woman stood in the centre of them. We gulp and head for the door, but shadows bar the way. I believe we both fainted when the most horrendous scream filled the room. We awoke next day and felt dizzy and sick. The shadows have gone and sunlight fills the room, however there is still the jaundice tint. We left there still craving answers. The snow is still yellow and the strange atmosphere is still hanging around; the awful feeling is still with us.

We went back to Kenneth’s place. “Oh my God” he said, “you both look awful, what have you witnessed there?”

We both said together, “Don’t ask and you won’t get any lies.”

We had breakfast, but the food smelled rancid, and did not taste the way it should. We left Kenneth’s place to return to our homes and promised keep in touch. Both of us agreed to seek help and forgiveness from a man of the cloth.

Both of us do things now that are not normal for us. I drowned the next door neighbour’s cat, strange indeed, as I love cats and I did love this one. I was reported to the RSPCA for doing this. Thomas is experiencing awful behaviour, and doing things not at all like him. We have both come to the conclusion that we are possessed by evil. Looking back at that night, and after the horrific scream, we both remember nothing more – we don’t have a clue what happened to us both.













Sunday, 31 October 2021

LIFE AT VERY DALE FARM

Life at Very Dale village is exciting, with many adventures happening here with the animals. There is a church with a steeple in the village, and an old farmhouse.

Thomas and Barbara Collins own and run the farm with several helpers. The farm hands help to feed and care for the animals here, while Master Thomas, chief farmer, oversees the farm and makes sure everything runs smoothly. And he is informed directly by the farm hands if any creatures become ill. Then the animal doctor, called a vet, is called to treat the animals for their ills.

The creatures that live here are very happy, and all have their certain jobs to do.

Grey Goose is Matron, and her job is to make sure that the animals fall into line and do what they are told. Grey Goose is called Matron Mary and she is very strict. She gabbles at them loudly if they misbehave. If they do misbehave the whole farm knows about it, as Matron Mary has a very loud voice. This means that those who misbehave are snubbed by everyone living on the farm, and this can go on for weeks, or until they apologise to all of the other residents.

Today Matron Mary has had to speak to the Farm Sausage, and his name is Porker.

Porker has been taunting Prince Red Fox, and he, the fox, in turn has been cheeky, and offended others at the farm.

Porker argues with Matron Mary, but everyone in the farm hears what he says, and needless to say he is snubbed by all, because he answers her back and is disrespectful.

Matron Mary has protected Sausage from Prince Red Fox in the past, but now Sausage is being snubbed.

Matron gabbles at him, and tells everyone that because he is disrespectful they must not listen to him when he complains about Prince Red Fox.

Word about this spreads very quickly, and it reaches the ears of the Fox.

Of course Red Fox takes advantage of this, because he is a bully, and so from now on Sausage has to keep looking over his shoulder. Prince Red Fox likes sausages and now Porker is on the menu. Sausage is upset, as he has to keep on hiding in the shadows. Porker sits on a fallen log, crying.

A tiny sparrow flies by and hears Porker weeping. “Oh, you poor little sausage, what’s wrong, and why are you upset?”

Boo, hoo,” Sausage answers. “I wish to say sorry to Matron Mary for answering her back, but Red Fox follows me, and he chases me. I think he wants to eat me, and I don’t know what to do.”

The sparrow put his thinking cap on. After a short while he advised Porker, “If I were you, I would try to hide your nice pink skin, and change your nice porky smell.”

Really, sparrow? How can I do that?”

Mmm, well, you could jump into the compost heap. This will make your skin mucky and you will be able to hide in the shadows better. Also you won’t smell lovely and porky. This will be a good disguise.”

Sausage thanked the sparrow and walked across to the compost heap. Sausage turned his nose up, and he said, “Yuk, poo, this is silly and very smelly, and I don’t want to jump into that heap.”

Sausage felt hot breath on the hairs of his neck, and as he turned he could see Fox wandering towards him. Sausage quickly jumped into the compost heap. Foxy walked straight past him.

Well, it works, so I’ll keep jumping into the heap. If he can’t see me and smell me, I will be safe.”

Red Fox loves eating sausages, but he hasn’t seen Sausage for a few days now and he is getting very hungry.

Fox chased a frog, but Froggy jumped into the pond. Fox doesn’t like getting wet, and so he chased a rabbit instead. The rabbit is a fast runner and got away from the fox and the rabbit disappeared down a rabbit-hole. Red Fox tried to follow rabbit down his burrow, but he was too big and got stuck. A passing mole helped him to get out. Fox was going to eat Mole, but mole had gone underground.

Fox is getting so hungry he will eat anything to stop hunger pains, and his tummy from rumbling. Then he thought, ‘An egg, I could eat a chicken egg, it will be a nice quick meal. I know, I’ll make my way to the hen house.’

Fox is heading to the hen house and the chickens feel afraid, but Bernie, the Farm Cockerel, forms a plan.

The chickens shivered and huddled together. Bernie the Cockerel stuck his chest out and crowed. Bernie picked up his trumpet, which he keeps in case he gets a sore throat, so that instead of crowing, he can blow the brass trumpet.

I’ll give the fox a shock that he won’t be expecting,” Bernie says to the hens.

The Chickens all cluck, saying, “Be careful, Bernie, we love you and we don’t want you hurt. We need you to be daddy to our chicks when they hatch.”

Bernie hears Red Fox approaching, because he’s a vain fox, and wears high-heeled boots. Fox likes to frighten creatures by towering over them. Bernie watches from the small vent of the chicken house.

He sees Red Fox knock on the big posh door of his chicken mansion. The chicken house is where all the hens live with the chicks when they hatch. This is where chicks are taught about chicken ways. The mansion is where young cockerels go to be taught how to crow and to be good husbands and protectors. Bernie is horrified as he sees Fox has something shiny in his belt; he gulped when he saw what it was. “Oohh, heck, I’d better do this quickly, and close the wooden vent, before he can use that horrid thing that he’s carrying on me.”

Bernie takes a deep breath and then blows loudly.

Red Fox almost faints with the shock. Fox is suffering from hunger and is weak. Fox feels very giddy and he looks around to find a place to sit down. Fox tumbles down the steps and is too tired to get up, and so he falls asleep.

Sausage gets the news that Red Fox is weak and has taken a fall. Sausage takes a bath in the river to show off his pink skin. “Oh, I smell so lovely, all porky and pink!” Porker hugs himself.

Sausage decides to find Matron Mary and apologise to her and promise he will never answer her back again. On his way to find her he finds some gold coins that have been washed out of the bank in the torrential rain they had two days ago.

He says to himself, “I remember a story about a goose that lays golden eggs. I will take these gold coins to Matron Mary and ask her if she will lay some golden eggs for us all. I must say sorry to Matron first.”

As he walks back he stumbles on Red Fox, who is still asleep. Then Fox’s nose quivers and he drawls, “Sausages. I smell wonderful sausages.” Then Fox opens one eye and jumps up onto his paws. Fox almost falls over again, because he’s losing his balance in the high heels he’s wearing.

Red Fox spots the purse that Sausage is carrying.

Red Fox takes off his hat and says, “I will let you pass if you give me what’s in that purse.”

Sausage isn’t falling for it. He knows Red Fox will change his mind once he has the coins.

An argument takes place between Sausage and Red Fox.

Very farm 4

The argument is serious and Red Fox is very cross because Sausage won’t let him have the purse.

I gave you a chance to do the right thing,” Fox snarled. “Now I will just have to take it.” Red Fox is getting cross because the smell of the sausage is making his tummy grumble loudly, because he’s so hungry.

Sausage says, “I know what will happen, if I give the purse to you, you’ll break the promise, and go back on your word, because you’re not a very honest fox.”

So what you’re saying is that I’m a sly fox!” Red fox is really losing his cool.

Yes, you could say that’s what I’m saying,” Sausage replied.

Cockerel came to the vent in the hen house and warned Sausage about the shiny item that Fox has in his belt.

Red Fox snarled at Sausage and pulled out the shiny blade in his belt.

Oh no no,” Sausage says, shaking all over, “there’s no need to go that far; we can come to some understanding.” Sausage is in fear of his life.

Some of the farm yard creatures felt sorry for Sausage. They tried to please Red Fox and help Sausage to get away. They brought him a tankard of ale and some mashed potato on a plate with knife and fork.

Ah, I’ll drink this ale as I’m thirsty,” the Fox said, picking up the tankard. “Now I’ll eat the mashed potato, but it’d be much nicer with a sausage on this plate to go with it.” He looked at Sausage with evil eyes.

He walked toward Sausage but he felt dizzy. The farm animals had mixed cider with the ale. And someone brought Red Fox a pillow. The Fox passed out and fell down the steps, and little Sausage got away. The creatures chained Red Fox up, but hung the keys where he could reach them, so that when he wakes up he can unlock the chain and let himself get free.

Red Fox isn’t getting enough to eat on Very Dale Farm and he’s tired of chasing Sausage. Then one day in the spring Prince, the Red Fox had a lovely surprise as a very beautiful Vixen passed by the farm. They instantly fell in love and decided to move away to have their own home. He and Elvira his wife raised some cubs, and these days Red Fox is training them to be good hunters. Sausage was never cheeky and rude to Matron Mary ever again, and he is polite to everyone on the farm.


Josephine Smith














Thursday, 28 October 2021

PAN PIPES

 

Pan pipes

The little sparrows loved eating the crumbs off the Heptons' window sill. It made them so happy to hear the infant child gurgling, laughing, and clapping his hands while they ate.

It’s the month of March and still quite chilly. The window opened late this morning and the crumbs were put out, and the window closed straight away.

The birds flew up with surprise as the sash window was closed so abruptly.

They returned to the sill and glanced through the pane of glass. Something isn’t right; the baby is still in his cot and lying very still. Someone carrying a black bag came into the room and took back the blankets, and checked the child.

The sparrows heard the doctor say, “This is serious: the baby has a very high temperature, he’s very ill. I will call again tomorrow, if he gets worse then send someone to fetch me.”

They heard the whip crack and then watched as the horse pulled the carriage down the drive and out through the great gates. When the sparrows had finished eating, they flew down to the family grape vine. There are still some wrinkly grapes from last year along the vine. One sparrow pecked a wrinkly grape and spat it out and shivered, it tasted sour. The sparrows began to twitter, and gossip about the sick child, and news got to other birds and animals around about.

Soon the whole of the countryside creatures were alerted. The water animals and creatures in the River Bourne also heard about it.

The frogs croaked, saying, “We will miss seeing the nanny walking with the young Master in his baby carriage. It was nice when he gurgled and clapped his hands; it seemed that he was glad to know we are here.”

For some days silence fell through the woodlands and streams. The doctor kept calling, but there was no change in Master Simon’s health.

One early morning the creatures and people living in and around the great mansion heard a strange sound. “It sounds like music,” the birds tweeted. “How can anyone play music, when young Master Simon is lying so ill?”

Perhaps it’s an attempt to cheer the infant up and bring him back to us, we do so miss him,” the pure white deer answered.

A strange person appeared, and this person was playing a flute. The creatures became afraid as they noticed a person with wings, and the flute player was sitting on the winged creature’s knee. Horror of horrors, when the creatures noticed a sickle wound around the base of the grape vine! A burned out oil-lamp lay beside the stream.

Oh no, this is bad news,” the sparrows chirped. “We’ve heard of this happening in bad times. The musician with the flute is Pan and he is sitting on the knee of the angel of death, the sickle says he is here to cut someone down.”

Yes,” said the white deer, “we have to pray for the infant. He is in deadly peril. These persons only come when it’s the end of life.”

How do we pray, and who do we pray to?” the creatures of the River Bourne ask.

A bumble bee flew by and buzzed, “It’s easy-peazy, you just simply bow your heads and ask the Holy Nature Spirit to come and help the infant.”

The sparrows said together, “Please Bumbler, tell us the words to say to the Holy nature spirit.”

Bumble bee answered them and said, “Firstly show respect for the Holy Spirit by saying, Holy One we love you and respect you, and we know that it must be your will and not ours. Please come and stand by the infant Simon’s cot, and give him the strength to overcome his enemy, this illness. Please, if it’s your will, let him be well again. We miss him so much. Then stand back and wait for the answer, and it will come, but not always in the way you want.”

The frogs croaked saying, “When is the best time to Pray?”

The bumble bee buzzed, “Let’s do this right now, as now is when he needs the Holy Spirit’s strength to help him. One, two, three, altogether now, Holy One please hear our prayer...

How many times should we pray?” the white deer asked.

The bumble bee answered, “There’s nothing as strong as the power of prayer, and our prayer will have been heard. However you can pray as many times as you wish, but remember what I told you, it’s His will and not ours.”

The pan pipes could be heard for a few days after the prayers were said. Then the sound of pipes became lower and the image of the death angel became faint.

Then one morning the sparrows went to get their crumbs from the sill. Oh joy! The baby is gurgling and laughing and clapping his hands, his enemy has lost the fight.

Josie Smith

















Wednesday, 25 August 2021

STORIES THAT STARTED WITH RORY... AND THEN WENT ON

 

Strange Dream

I’ve heard of this strange phenomenon many times, but never thought it would happen to me.

I’d been working very hard and I was tired. I took a small whisky to help me to sleep, as usually when overtired I find it difficult to rest, and it means I lie there with a thousand worries and torments going over in my mind. I washed my hands and face and crawled into bed and I think I just drifted off.

I am standing by my bed, looking down at myself sleeping. A strange sensation comes over me, as my spirit is outside of my body. I’m floating around, peering into nooks and crannies in my house. I look through a keyhole into a room across the corridor from where I sleep. I feel fear like I’ve never felt before. The scene I’m gazing into is horrific. I tried to scream, but no sound would come. Something in this room had the look and physique of a tortured demon, the face was unholy, and then it fixed its gaze upon me. My whole body felt as if a million knives were cutting me, right down into my soul.

I can’t move, my eye is stuck on the key hole.

That thing wanted me to stay and watch, I heard chanting and other demons joined the thing and surrounded it. They are like horrific shadows changing form and dancing amid great flames. This must be hell and I’m standing outside of it, looking in. The scene changed and focused upon the clock on the wall, it’s just after midnight. There’s a compass next to the clock and this is going crazy, as if it had no idea of North and South, just going in different directions.

No! Something is not right about any of this. I asked to be forgiven for my sins. Still I could not move, and I was being forced to watch terrible acts being performed. A whisper in my ear, by someone unknown, it told me to take my eye away from the keyhole. I answered, saying, No I can’t, it won’t let me, it needs me to watch. Again the voice whispered, “Remove your eye from the keyhole.”

I responded and took my eye from that hellish scene. I turned and became more confused, as I believed the door to my bedroom was just opposite this one. I glanced around and found I am in total darkness and I don’t know where I am. I’m desperate to get back to bed and wake myself up, and I also believe that if I don’t I will die. Then I notice a light, it’s like someone has a torch, and the whisperer said, “Follow the light.”

I found the light welcoming and did as I am asked to do. Here I am now in the library, where the light lit up a book. I took the book and almost dropped it, as it’s so heavy, I then placed it on a table, the leaves opened themselves. The leaf-turning stopped at a picture of the awful thing I had seen in that room. I read, or tried to read, the passage and became fearful again.

A horrendous clap of thunder sounded overhead and lightning lit up the room. Instinct told me to turn around, I wished I hadn’t, it is there, stood behind me. Lightning and thunder is sending down torrents of rain and is lashing the windows so hard. It felt as if the house would crumble and wash away. The whisper came again; it is loud enough for me to hear over the storm. “Read the passage in the Manual,” it said.

Light from the torch lit up the words, but I felt obliged to keep looking at the dreadful thing. I forced myself to read the passage in the huge leather- bound book.

No, you must read this aloud, and forget that demon and concentrate on the words.”

The voice was stern but gave comfort. I began slowly reading the verse from the book.

Keep on repeating this, until that abomination is gone.”

I gained more confidence as I continued to read. After what seemed like a long period of time I plucked up the courage to glance behind me. The nightmare is over, that thing is gone, and I hoped for good.

The huge storm had passed over and the faint light of morning came through the wet windows. I looked around the room in the early grey streaks of dawn. I am standing by my bed looking down at my form lying there.

The whisperer said, “You must hurry and re-join your body and spirit, to delay will be fatal for you.”

I pulled back the sheets and climbed back into bed. When I opened my eyes at six o’clock I lay for a while. The alarm went off and so I sat up and swung my feet out of bed. The room is cold and I can see my breath. I padded across to the huge bay window and looked out; the scene is not what I expected.

Instead of everything being soaked through, it’s blinding white. I squinted my eyes as I’ve become snow-blind. I pulled a gown around me and sat in the window seat, asking myself what the heck was all that about last night.

As the sun came up I saw the birds’ footprints outside on the sill. The little sparrows are pecking the window, begging for food. I obliged by putting the rest of last night’s sandwich out for them, also an apple core which they marmalised in a hurry. I am confused by what I dreamed last night; it’s silly: how can someone leave their body unless they die? I pinch my arms and legs, am I dead?

No, I still live. I made my mind up that it is nothing, just horrid imagination. I had convinced myself that is what it is. I felt the life and colour come back into my being, until I reached my bed to make it, and there was the large leather-bound book on my bedside table.

I am afraid to come to bed tonight.

Part two

It took courage to remove the book from my bedside table. I passed the library and deliberately went down into the cellar. Although there is a light down here, it seems very dark and dismal, and I felt my flesh crawl. The leather bound book is very heavy, but I threw it on a shelf. I shivered and ran up the steps, and leaving the room, locked the door behind me. I felt breathless and stood with my back to the door for several minutes.

Going into the kitchen, I switched the kettle on and made a cup of tea. Still shaking, I put a drop of whisky in the tea cup, this made me feel better. While I was sat drinking the tea I made a plan to go to the great library down town. The plan is to check any information about my house and its history.

I have always wondered why I managed to purchase the house at such a small price. It is a three storey house and has many rooms. I’ve lived here now for almost a year and have done my best to sort the rooms out to how I want them. I never had any trouble with that thing until now, and was happy with my lot. My garden is still overgrown as I haven’t had time to deal with that, but there’s no hurry. Today will be the decider of whether I shall stay on at the house. I dread the thought of keeping on having dreams as bad as that one last night.

Going through the news about the district that I’m living in, I finally came to news about my house. I read that many people have purchased the house, but would not stay for any length of time, selling it on for a fraction of the true price.

OMG! I can’t believe it, as it seems that in the eighteenth century a billionaire owned it. I read about how much cash he managed to accumulate over the years, and this alone is staggering. It appears that folk that lived around him had begun to ask questions about this. They say he wasn’t particularly bright or amazingly good at any sort of skills. Some of the people living around the outskirts of the house began to check on the background of Clive Mortens (the Master of the house) for themselves. It seems that his neighbours found out about his parentage. There had been a lot of gossip surrounding Clive’s people and there had been many disturbances spoken of by staff and domestics. Some were recording strange chants, and suspicious lights coming from one room in particular. More gossip was saying they were holding black masses and there was even talk that people were disappearing, vanishing without trace. Some of these were domestics and waiters.

There’s a large piece that says the Police had begun to investigate and even some of these Police officers had disappeared in strange circumstances. The Police force lost interest, or were too afraid to go on investigating, or maybe budget-cuts stopped it dead in its tracks.

The more news that came to light the more my heart raced, my head is thumping. I have to decide what to do: whether to sell the house and lose a great deal of money or to stick it out and find out what the hell is going on. I am a widow and feel if I had a partner I could stick it out with a husband’s guidance and his company. I do miss Mark, and I wonder what he would do? Deep thoughts filled my being as I left the library.

I made my mind up to get a priest in, maybe an exorcism might help, or make it worse. I had to pass the church on the way home and so went in. I had a long conversation with the local priest who stated that he couldn’t promise, but to leave it with him. It seemed so endless, the wait for his answer. The horrors went on and the scenes were very dark and distressing, I became unwell with the stress.

I waited about a week for a response and the news came that an exorcism would take place, only due to the facts that have been accumulated over the years about this dwelling.

In the time that it took for the ceremony to be arranged, there were far more distressing and terrifying happenings. The abomination was becoming stronger and some nights it was standing by my bed.



I am outside of my body watching it and wondering what it will do. I know that I have to re-join my body and spirit before a certain time and that thing is there doing its best to stop me getting back. The whisperer is back and it asked me where the book is? I said that, I’d put it in the cellar.

Go to the cellar and get it, and hurry.”

It is strange, but I am in my bedroom one minute and in the cellar in the other. I was back so quickly.

Read the passage out loud, and be sharp, as time is getting short.”

I did what was asked of me and read until the thing had gone.

Tomorrow the exorcism will take place. Tonight is very windy and the tree branches are scratching my window. I can’t sleep, and the scratching and banging is getting worse. I began to drift off, but woke again to the loud scratchings of the branches hitting my window pane. I lay all night to that sound and I had not left my body. No occult happenings tonight, I guess because I didn’t sleep. Maybe I should sleep through the day, but dismissed this idea, as I’m very tired today.

The priest arrived and began by asking me many questions about the time of these occurrences, how long they take, and what actually happens. The priest is startled by the fact that I leave my body and wander around the house. He did query why nothing happened last night and I told him that I hadn’t slept.

This seemed to give him a clue as to what and why. He then asked me about my background and a little about my family tree.

Now the ceremony of exorcism begins.


Josie Smith


The Norsemen


Shush shush. Don’t make any noise, Laysa. They won’t find us here.”


I put my hand over my sister’s mouth, gently. We were tucked down behind bales of straw in the corner of our barn, listening to the men outside. I knew they were men from the cold North who had first raided Lindisfarne and killed the monks living there.


My parents had gone to visit the Overlord of our area who was to be crowned, and my Father was one of his supporters, having vowed to fight the Vikings when they came. There had been no attacks for some time and my parents had felt sure we would be safe for a few days.


We heard them break down the door to our farmhouse and I knew they would find the bag of coins that my Father had hidden under firewood. I prayed they would not burn the house.


Laysa was shivering with fear and with the cold as we had not had time to prepare well when I heard the Vikings coming.


They may not stay long,” I tried to reassure her.


That was a vain hope. Soon there was a fire burning in the yard and a cooking pot on top, hanging from a quickly-fashioned triangle. The smell from whatever was cooking made my mouth run with saliva. We were both so hungry and thirsty that I felt quite faint.


There was one possibility of escape: the overhanging roof left a small gap between itself and the walls. If I could get the ladder up behind us I might be able to widen the gap to get through. Putting my finger to my lips, I motioned to Laysa that I was moving to get the ladder. She clung to me and let out a muffled scream. Within seconds there appeared a fearful countenance over the bales. A Norseman’s helmet with horns. My imagination had him breathing smoke, which was probably only his breath on the cold air.


Two of them dragged us out to the yard and, seeing my sister shaking and shivering, one fellow draped a hairy rug round her and sat us both near the fire. I made sure we were very close together. The rug had strange symbols woven into it, looking like bones and skulls, but it was obviously warm, as Laysa had stopped shivering although she was still terrified. They soon brought us wooden bowls of the tempting food from the pot, along with what I thought was barley bread. It was very stale but filling dunked in the liquid. I thought of refusing to eat but knew that, without sustenance, we would not survive and it seemed as though they did not intend to kill us; at least not yet.


After they had all eaten, they passed round a goblet belonging to my Father, taken from the house.


My instinct was to refuse to drink but I knew that the only person to suffer would be me. Following my lead, Laysa drank deeply and spluttered as the powerful liquid hit her throat but, almost immediately, she looked revived and warmed. The Vikings laughed at her discomfiture but, it seemed to me, not in a nasty way.


Gathering in a group, about five of the men seemed to be having a heated discussion, pointing at us and shouting. I felt sure our fate hung in the balance. Eventually they came and tied my hands together, then put Laysa on a pony and indicated for me to walk beside her. We seemed to walk for miles. At times I would doze off and jerk awake again until every muscle and sinew in my body ached. I was also trying to stop my sister from tumbling off the pony as she had gone to sleep, slumping forward.


As a cold sun rose palely in the distance we reached a clearing in the wood. The centre was taken up with a large tent-building covered in straw. The Norseman who had first found us, and seemed to have authority, lifted Laysa down and, urging me forward, took us into the tent where there were many more men.


The change of atmosphere had revived me a little and, looking around, I studied the faces of the people, wondering why they all wanted to come to Northumberland and steal from us. I had heard from Father’s friends that some Vikings had moved further across the Country and were settling down after battles in which they had taken over whole villages. I couldn’t stop thinking about the terrible shock my parents would have when they returned to the farm and saw that we had disappeared. They would, of course, realise that we had been taken captive. If only I could have let them know we were still alive was my main concern.


We were fed again with some strange, stringy meat and water to drink. Rugs were put down for us to sleep, which we did. I do not know how long I slept but I was wakened by a lot of noise and shuffling of feet. I reared up and rubbed my eyes, hardly believing what I saw. Over at one side of the tent was a group of rough looking Norsemen holding and pushing a man and a woman.


My heart sank when I looked again and saw that my Father and lovely Mother were stood looking bruised and battered with their hands tied. I tried to rush over but was pushed down by a Viking who was the one I had feared most from the beginning.


Circling round my mind was terrible anticipation. ‘What was going to happen to us?’


Part Two


I saw that there was great tension between the fierce red-haired man, Ergo the Red, and the other, kindlier Norseman who had helped us. Ergo kept pointing at my Father and his attitude was hugely aggressive. The other one, whose name I could not catch, and thought of as Norgo, went over and handed my Father a sword. The Vikings made a huge circle into which Ergo and my Father were pushed. Obviously my Father was to fight for his life against the champion, Ergo. My Mother shouted and struggled but was knocked to the ground, sobbing. I had no chance to intervene, pinned down by two strong men.


It was obvious that my Father was at a huge disadvantage with exhaustion and some beating but he made a valiant effort against the Viking. They circled and swung their swords, getting closer with each move. I was surprised and elated when my Father caught Ergo a glancing blow on the arm, drawing some blood. However, the tough Viking just shook himself and continued as if nothing had happened. They continued dancing round each other swinging their weapons. The swords were so big and heavy that actual thrusts were more difficult to do. The macabre dance seemed to last a long time but it was really only minutes and then, with a huge lunge, Ergo smashed his weapon down onto Father’s shoulder, close to his neck, and there was a gush of blood, spreading everywhere.

My Mother’s scream will stay with me forever.


The man holding her let go and she flung herself down by my dying Father, soaking in his blood. I also was freed to go to him and I tried to catch the words he muttered with his last breath but they were too burbling for me to understand. My little sister appeared too stunned to be aware of what was happening, sitting with a glazed expression but with tears running down her cheeks, wetting the neckline of her gown.


The events that followed passed in something of a blur, and between trying to console my Mother and tending to my little sister who, I believe, had her seventh birthday during this time, my grief, although terrible, was pushed into the background.


The Vikings treated my Father’s death in the same way as they did their own. A pyre was arranged high off the ground. It was shaped like a boat, as was their custom. My Father’s body, lifted on top was surrounded by tools and weapons, apparently to help him into the next world. Reluctantly I was impressed by the care and formality shown by the Norsemen. The fire was ignited from underneath, with a huge torch, quickly burning fiercely. I had the impression of my Father rising up in the smoke and flames and disappearing heavenwards. All in my imagination and part of the eerie spectacle. My Mother was surprisingly docile, kneeling down, saying prayers until the end of the ceremony with glowing embers puttering down, when she sobbed my Father’s name to the skies.


Cuthbert, we need you. Come back to us. Come back.”


Afterwards, no time was wasted and most of the tribe were made ready to move on. I gestured to Norgo to ask where we were going. He obviously understood my query and scratched a rough map in the earth. It seemed we were going to an area near a river called Trent. I had heard some word of this place, mentioned by my Father’s friends, and knew there was already a settlement down there.


Norgo managed to convey to me that it would be about seven days’ march. Supposing that we might walk about twenty miles each day I put our destination at about one hundred and forty miles away.


Truly a daunting trip for all of us, particularly my Mother who seemed distracted, only remembering to cuddle Laysa when she came to her notice. I prayed that Mother was not going mad!


We set off on the journey with my Mother and Laysa on ponies, for which I felt reluctant gratitude.


Norgo was really kind to my Mother, making sure she had eaten each time we stopped.


After two days we reached a place where there was a wide stream and were allowed to wash in the water. I tried to shelter my Mother from the Norsemen but they made sure that there was no chance of escape by having two guards on the opposite side of the brook. She seemed happier after cleaning herself and Laysa, rubbing sand into their hair, then dipping it into the water.

Ergo would watch my Mother and then talk to his particular cronies with lascivious looks and laughter. I knew our main security lay with Norgo, who, I believed, was growing fond of my Mother.


Secretly, I was making a plan to kill Ergo if the opportunity arose. I knew I would be no match in a fair fight so I planned to try and set a trap for Ergo, by making him follow me as I pretended to escape.


That night I crawled very slowly towards the door opening, went out and just inside the nearby wood I dug a hole, using a flat stick and my hands. I made it quite deep and then found many small sticks with pointed ends and forced them into the bottom of the hole with the most pointed parts upwards. I then covered over the hole with brushwood and leaves. It was so crude that I knew it would be seen for what it was in daylight and decided to put my plan into practice while it was still dark.


I crept back unobserved. I believed that they would expect me to stay with my Mother and sister while they were so distressed, so the Vikings were not as vigilant as previously. I immediately put my plan into action, picking up a chunk of wood and hitting Ergo, who was dozing near the fire. I did not hit him too hard and immediately ran off to the wood with him following. I felt sure I could remember the location of my hole and sure enough I ran towards it. I managed to circuit the place and Ergo, half asleep, dropped right down into it with a thud and a yell.


As several Norsemen arrived in response to Ergo’s shout, I ran back to the hut without being seen and pretended to be asleep. Ergo was carried back and his few small puncture wounds tended. He was on his feet the next day and I was really surprised that there were no investigations or reprisals. This worried me more than any punishment, leaving me wary of being quietly murdered in the night from then onwards. Ergo’s embarrassment at being hoodwinked must have been the reason for his silence.


Much of our journey was fairly uneventful and after six sunrises we came to the banks of the river. Some of the men went in and were able to spear fish which made a welcome variation to the stews and barbecued birds we had eaten. There seemed to be a real affection developing between my Mother and Norgo and while one part of my mind was angry and jealous, I knew that if she was to survive, the protection of a powerful Viking was her best chance.


When we reached the area called Trent there was feasting and celebration and our tribe were settling in. A few days later Norgo took my Mother as his mate and both seemed happy at the event.


She and I had talked, the previous night, and I told her I understood. I also let her know that as soon as the opportunity arose I would leave and find some of our own people as it was a certainty that Ergo would kill me when he could.


Two weeks later I kissed my little sister, in her sleep, going westward as quickly as possible, not knowing if I would ever see my Family again.


Linda Dalzell