| RoYds Part 20 - Nature |
2007
Elizabeth sat bolt upright. Her heart was racing and she fought blindly to focus her eyes. Grispheran was sitting nonchalantly in the passenger seat beside her. His presence unnerved her to such a degree that she struggled to regain any semblance of composure.
“You frightened the Living daylights out of me, you bloody idiot! What the hell are you playing at?” As she recovered from the shock of his sudden appearance and physical contact, she began to boil with anger and her green eyes flashed.
He laughed softly. “Tut tut, Bess! There's no need to shout -– you'll wake the Living. You wouldn’t want to draw attention to us now would you? Or is that what you want? Attention?” He moved closer, lowering his eyes to her mouth for a fraction of a second and then raised them to meet her own.
Elizabeth looked into their black watery depths and felt herself drifting. There was something so physically attractive about him and yet at the same time her instinct warned her against him.
“Just what is it you want?” she asked, anchoring herself by looking away and concentrating on the light and noise travelling towards them from the wine bar over his shoulder.
“Oh, you know exactly what I want, Bess. Why don’t you stop pretending otherwise.” He leaned forward to whisper this seductively into her ear, and then gently bit the pearl teardrop of her earring. Elizabeth half closed her eyes as a sensuous thrill washed over her and Grispheran traced his mouth down the length of her neck and towards her collarbone. Elizabeth couldn’t help but be carried away in the moment just briefly until the siren of a passing ambulance brought her back to her senses.
“I’ve absolutely no idea what you are talking about!” She pulled away, clutching her car keys like a crucifix. "Are you going to sit here plaguing me all night?" she asked, staring out through the windscreen in order to avoid looking directly into his eyes. She then stated more calmly, "I for one have better things to do with my time.”
“Whenever you're ready, Bess,” he replied confidently and vanished.
Elizabeth was visibly shaken and tried to compose herself. The encounter with Grispheran following hot on the heels of the terrifying experience with Linus had taken its toll on her. She took a few moments to calm herself and then asked aloud, “Do you always have to be so bloody dramatic?”
"It's not in my nature to be otherwise."
PrevLabels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
posted by Miladysa @ 16:45  |
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| RoYds Part 19 - Backlash! |
2007
It was already dark by the time they left the wine bar and although the bar itself was pitching and heaving with people, the street outside was deserted. Linus had parked his silver Porsche 911 in the car park at the rear of the building. They decided to go in just the one car and as Linus drove off, it started to drizzle.
During the short journey, Linus explained how some of the workmen had seen shadowy figures, tools had been moved and he himself had once heard a child crying somewhere in one of the buildings. Elizabeth listened interestedly, and tried to prepare herself for whatever lay ahead.
They arrived at Staibey Nayes within minutes. Linus drove the Porsche up to the floodlit entrance and parked as close as possible to the main doors. Elizabeth was impressed by what she could see of the quality of the work carried out so far. It was a lovely, secluded spot and she was sure the finished properties would sell quickly. The previously aged and grime-stained stone had been sandblasted and once again stood proud with its honey-coloured finish and newly mounted brass plaque screaming Howell Nayes.
They both got out of the vehicle and Linus indicated that they should proceed to one of the smaller buildings, the one where he’d heard the child crying. He made his way over and Elizabeth could see he had switched the lights on inside and was waiting for her in the doorway. She signalled to him that she would join him there in a minute or two and then walked across the courtyard and stood beside a dry stone wall.
Almost immediately she began to see figures. Some were walking across the courtyard, others were looking out of the windows of the buildings; a military policeman stood where there had once been a sentry post, and there was a couple with their children under a tree in the distance.
The images appeared like little clips of video, some only a couple of seconds in length, others longer. The only ghost of Staibey Nayes was the past and it was not haunting anyone except those who had lived through it. There was definite darkness, though, and it was close by. Elizabeth tensed and made her way over to the building Linus had entered.
***
The ground floor was a vast open space with several imposing windows. The walls had been recently plastered and sanded smooth; the air was thick with dust and the floor was carpeted with a fine grey powder. At the far side was a doorway which Linus commenced walking toward once he saw Elizabeth was following him. As he went, he left a trail of footprints in the grey powder, which erupted in tiny puffs with each step he took. Looking back across the room at her, he gestured to Elizabeth and shouted across to her excitedly, “Over here!”
Linus watched Elizabeth open a couple of buttons on her coat and unzip her shoulder bag before he disappeared through the doorway.
Elizabeth entered the room and Linus found that he was feeling very eager.
“You heard a child in here? What exactly did you hear?” she asked.
“I don’t know, really. I couldn’t make out anything clearly.”
Now’s your chance
“Linus?” Elizabeth approached him.
He was now feeling very agitated. Her calm tone was annoying him. “What?” he asked under his breath.
Why don’t you show her who’s the boss
“Linus?”
Just like all the others
“How long have you been listening to the voices, Linus?”
“Shut up, you fucking bitch!” he snarled and moved towards her.
He made his move.
***
Linus looked at himself and saw that his designer shirt, jeans and hands were covered with blood. Stunned, he looked down and fresh crimson droplets splashed onto the bare wooden floorboards and merged with the grey powder to form a dirty paste. Close by, a single broken tooth was a macabre witness to the spillage.
He tried to raise his hands to his face and shield his eyes from an intense light which was suddenly blinding him. He felt a crack to his elbow followed by a bolt of pulsating pain which shot up his left arm and into his shoulder.
“Don’t so much as flinch or what is left of your balls will follow that tooth!”
He managed a strangled cry through his swollen and cracked lips. “Please don’t hurt me anymore.” The effort of speaking sent further painful spasms across his ruptured nose and swelling cheekbone.
The vicious voice continued. “Slowly -- with the hand that does not have any broken fingers -- remove your car keys from your jacket pocket and slide them across the floor to me.”
He did as instructed even though it caused him further excruciating pain. His survival instinct warned him that it would be more painful if he failed to do so, or even as much as twitched without being told to. All he wanted in life was to survive this moment. Fear was breeding inside of him. He was so filled with it he felt as though he was being consumed from within. He watched as a gloved hand reached down to the floor and picked up the car keys.
“Perhaps the child you heard crying was yourself? Who knows? I’m just glad that you’re lying there rather than another victim.”
Every word felt as though it was being ground further into his wounds like slivers of glass. Linus started to cry.
The light went out and the total darkness wrapped around him. The receding footsteps echoed across the room and then across the next one. The stirred up dust caught in his throat and Linus winced in pain as his body was racked with a string of coughs. He could hear a police siren in the distance getting closer with each second that passed.
Elizabeth returned the 4-Cell Mag-Lite and telescopic baton to her bag before opening the Porsche and fishing out a silver locket from amongst the various items secreted in the boot.
She reached her car just as the police vehicles screeched to a halt at Staibey Nayes. Large, cold, globules of rain fell like shot from the black satin sky and ricocheted off every conceivable surface. Elizabeth sat in the driver’s seat surveying the rain lashed landscape. Sometimes there was no choice but to fight darkness with darkness.
She heard laughter. At first it seemed to be coming from far away.
“Tell me... What will you use to fight me, Bess?”
She froze when she saw Grispheran sitting in the passenger seat.
PrevLabels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 18 - Reflect |
December 1944
Billy knocked, entered the dark cell-like office and scoured the floating dust particles in an attempt to make out the figure on the other side.
“Welcome... Welcome, Lawrence. Please take a seat.”
Billy was unsure whether to sit or not. Friendly officers and welcoming committees had not been his experience of prison so far.
He selected the scruffiest of a duo of mismatched Victorian chairs -- the only furniture in the room. Sitting bolt upright, Billy skipped his gaze between the stranger standing in shadow and the distant view of the unfamiliar city offered by the criss-cross taped and barred metal-framed window.
“How is life treating you these days?”
Billy automatically snapped to his feet. The bloke was standing right beside him and he hadn’t even heard him cross the room! He must be getting slow!
“Life?”
“Please sit and relax,” directed the older man.
It was obvious from his clipped vowels that he was a former army officer of some kind -– Billy had enough service experience to be certain of that. He felt edgy. There was something not quite right here. He had known it from the off this morning when he received the order to report on this wing. They had something dire in store for him alright. It had been on the cards from the moment he had told that sadistic screw Price to back off.
Billy followed the instruction he had been given and sitting stiffly, tried to avoid eye contact and unwittingly provoking the stranger.
“I’ll not beat about the bush,” said the older gentleman, absentmindedly rubbing his chin. “I have no doubt that you have done a lot of thinking over the past four years. You’ve certainly had the time to reflect on the direction your life has taken so far. Am I right or am I wrong?”
Was it a trick question? Billy was unsure how to answer and before he could, the stranger continued.
“You have experiences, skills and temperament that the organisation I am a part of will make good use of.”
“Me?” asked an incredulously Billy.
“There is a job waiting for you upon your release. It will entail grave danger. However, in the long run I believe you will consider it to have been worth it.”
Billy turned his attention away from the brewery chimney he had been focussing on and toward the older man, concern clearly written on his face. “Do I have a choice?”
“Always.”
“Why me?” asked Billy, becoming more and more restless with each passing minute.
“Why not? You are a convicted murderer as well as an accomplished thief and liar. All talents we can use. In return, we offer you an opportunity to make amends whilst you are still alive.”
Alive? Had he just been threatened? Billy suspected he might have been. A white card with RoYds embossed on it was thrust in front of him and he took it automatically. The lettering appeared to glow. Billy rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. He must be more stressed than he thought.
“Think about it. We will be in touch.”
Footsteps echoed on the landing outside the room; the thud, thud, thud, of steel toecap and disciplined leather. Like the other inmates of HMP Strangeways, Billy could decipher the prison officer from his gait.
Price!
The stranger stood upright and Billy automatically followed his example.
“Goodbye, Lawrence. And whatever path you take, I wish you well.”
Billy put the card into his pocket just as the door opened behind him.
“Stop piss-farting about, Lawrence and follow me back to A Wing! Whoever thought it was a good idea to let bleeding murderers roam around at their own frigging will wants a bloody good taste of what we’re serving up to Hitler!”
Billy hesitated. Should he stay where he was or leave with Price? He looked to the stranger for guidance -- the room was empty. Billy’s mind was made up for him and he made a sharp exit!
“I would be proud to join ‘em too, instead of being locked up here babysitting Nancy boys and murdering scum,” Price bellowed down the landing behind Billy.
Billy wished he would just shut the fuck up. He wished all the other voices would shut up too. If it came down to it, though, he would take the voices, the beatings and being locked up over conversations with weird strangers any day of the week!
Labels: 1940s, Billy, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 17 - Receptive |
2007
It was Lady Mabel who eventually discovered Kerry after reading a report in the local paper about a group of high school students who had seen a ghost on Mill Lane and claimed it was the Grey Lady of Heyleigh Hall. It was Stanley who approached Elizabeth.
“Ah! Elizabeth, erm... I’m afraid we've got a bit of an unusual case involving the Living this morning.”
Elizabeth looked up at him and thought he looked a little ruffled which was very unlike him. He sat down at her desk and started to brush invisible flecks of fluff from his ever-immaculate navy twill trousers.
“Everything that happens here is extremely unusual, as far as the Living are concerned, Stanley!" But her curiosity was aroused more than usual. “What’s happened?”
“A young girl was murdered several weeks ago and her body dumped in undergrowth.”
“Several weeks ago? Strange that we haven’t heard about it before now.”
“Yes... Indeed,” he muttered, attacking the invisible fluff again. “Kerry Crabtree; she was nineteen years old. Her body has lain undiscovered until now and Lady Mabel thinks it could still be a good while before any of the Living come across it. It's been well hidden in the woods on the far side of Heyleigh Hall. At the moment I understand the police suspect Kerry has run away -– we on the other hand know that she was victim of our local serial killer.”
Elizabeth thought for a moment. “There'll be a coach party arriving up at the Hall just after lunchtime. It might be a good idea to send someone up there around that time. If one of the tourists is receptive, a word in their ear could encourage them to discover the body. Does she know who killed her?”
Stanley sighed and stood up. “I believe he took something of hers that will lead us to him,” he shook his head gently. “It’s sad. It always is in a case like this. We need to stop these murders -– without any further delay -- or it will be dark at breakfast if we are not careful. By the way, good idea about the tourists. We’ll send Gemma.”
Elizabeth cringed at the mention of the name and bit her lower lip. Since her return, the two of them had so far managed to avoid each other.
Lady Mabel arrived in the room beside Stanley. “Why don’t I go instead?” she asked Stanley, and then turned to Elizabeth for support. “They're much more likely to be looking out for me and will therefore be more receptive.”
“OK...” Stanley seemed to have his mind focused elsewhere.
"Is something wrong, Stanley?" Elizabeth asked. Concerned, she rose from her seat.
“In a way,” said Stanley, putting his arm around her in a fatherly fashion. “I've a terrible feeling of foreboding. It’s been a long time since I felt anything this strong so close to RoYds.”
***
Linus Howell hesitated before approaching her. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say; he would have to wing it. The wine bar was packed and he grimaced when he entered and saw the Whituth Set already celebrating the start of the weekend. He should have known better than to arrange to meet her at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon; any other day of the week would have been fine.
He sipped his white wine spritzer as he surveyed the orgy of designer clothes, teased hair and polished bodies. He was certain that she was the petite brunette with the dark eyeliner and purple lipstick who had been watching the door keenly when he walked in. Pity he hadn't arrived early and managed to down at least one drink beforehand. He sighed. Never mind. In for a penny in for a pound.
“Ms Whyte? I’m Linus Howell. Apologies if I’m a little late, and also for suggesting we meet here. I had not realised it would be so busy.” The words rushed and he felt awkward. He reached for a stool and was just about to pull it over when she spoke.
“Case of mistaken identity, I’m afraid.” The brunette smiled and looked beyond him to a handsome young man who was struggling to make his way through the throng towards her.
Cheeks burning in frustration with himself, he backed away slightly. He had been sure that she was the one. Feeling an idiot, he mumbled an apology and nudged his way back to the bar. How the hell was he supposed to find her amongst this lot?
“Hello, I’m Elizabeth Whyte.”
Her hand reached out beckoningly and he shook it without thinking. She definitely wasn’t what he had been expecting.
“Hi... Uh... Linus Howell. Can I get you a drink?”
“Hmm... Let’s see. I’ll have a bottle of Magners, please.” She smiled and looked across the room. “I see there’s a table over there. Why don’t I go and grab it while you get the drinks?” She didn’t give him chance to answer before she walked away.
Well, this was a turn up for the books. He was glad he had taken the time to shower and look presentable. This could turn into a very pleasurable afternoon.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked, joining her and placing their glasses and her bottle of cider on the table.
She smiled wickedly. “Let’s just say I knew the moment I laid eyes on you.” Her smile widened as she crossed her legs.
His mood lightened and he felt the familiar, warm rush of attraction trickle through his veins.
“Shall I call you Linus?”
“Linus is fine.”
“So Linus, what exactly is it that we can do for you?”
He cleared his throat, wondering whether he should just come out with it or if he should think of something completely different to say. “We’re developing the old Ministry of Defence buildings at Staibey Nayes. Do you know the ones I mean?”
She nodded. “Weren’t they also rented out as industrial units at one stage?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Well, there have been some... How can I put this? Strange goings on since we started working there. After the latest incident, the workmen have downed tools and refused to go back to work until we get someone in to investigate.” His face felt hot and he was sure it was as red as the coat she was wearing.
“Why did you choose to meet here rather than visit RoYds?”
“I want to keep the number of people who know anything about this down to a minimum. If I’m seen going into your building, rumours will start and before you know it, no one will be interested in buying the properties once they’re completed.”
“I see.” She raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look. He didn’t quite like her attitude.
“What about the workmen? Won’t they talk about what’s been happening?”
“Nah. Firstly, they wouldn’t want anyone thinking they’re crazy and secondly, I'm still paying their wages while they sit on their arses. It's in their interest to keep their mouths shut.”
As she removed her black leather gloves he caught himself checking her finger for a ring. He felt like kicking himself. She was still attractive even if he didn’t like her attitude.
“Why did you think RoYds could help?”
“I’ve lived in this town all my life; my family have been in these parts for generations. It’s not a secret that you people are interested in this sort of thing.” He was getting tired of the small-talk bullshit; they both understood the type of thing these geeks got themselves involved in. He didn’t feel comfortable with the whole thing and if his hand hadn't been forced into making contact with them he never would have done so.
“Look, Elizabeth... I hate to be rude but I don’t have the time to beat about the bush. I want this project finished by the end of March at the latest. All I want you to do is take a look, confirm it’s all in their minds, and then I can get them back to work. How about this : in return I'm prepared to make a contribution to the RoYds Foundation.” That should seal it.
Elizabeth leaned forward slowly and narrowed her eyes at him. “How about this: we take a look and in return you name your latest development something more in keeping with local heritage?”
“More in keeping? What colour’s the sky on your planet?” he glared back at her indignantly.
“More in keeping,” she repeated calmly. “As far as I’m concerned, the last thing Whituth needs is another Howell Place or Howell Villas or Howell whatever...”
Cheeky mare! He finished his drink in one swallow and wished that it had been at least his third. The need to get the job finished was his number one priority. It was not as though he would have anything more to do with her after tonight. “Fine! I’ll get us some more drinks and then I’ll tell you what’s been happening.” He picked up his glass and stood up to go to the bar.
“Do you have the keys to the buildings on you, Linus?”
He patted his inside jacket pocket in order to be sure. “Yes. Why?”
“We could go over there now if you've the time to spare? As it's costing you money, I thought you might prefer sooner rather than later?”
He had been planning on leaving the car here at the bar and making a night of it; he’d only had the one drink though. “Great! Ready when you are.” He smiled toothily.
What a result! They would be back at work on Monday morning and the job would be back on schedule!
PrevLabels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 20:05 |
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| RoYds Part 16 - Crossing |
New Year’s Eve 1938
“Uncle Archie? What are you doing in here? Hiding!”
Archibald Templeton pried his gaze away from the tortoise shell-framed photograph he was studying and diverted his attention to the young girl who had just entered the room.
“Nothing of the sort,” he said in mock annoyance. “I was just enjoying a G and T while remembering friends who are no longer with us.”
“Oh dear!" His niece Lydia exclaimed playfully, “Don’t tell me you are getting all maudlin again?”
“Cheeky madam! Where’s your respect for your elders and betters, eh? You’re not too grown up that a good spanking wouldn’t put you right!” Archie replied with a grin. “Tell you what... Why don’t you go back to the party and continue enjoying yourself? I’ll just finish up here and be with you in a mo.”
“Promise?” Lydia asked with a tone of seriousness creeping in.
“Promise!” he replied, smiling as she closed the door on her way out.
Archie picked up the photograph from where he had placed it and raised his other hand and glass in a toast, “Here’s to you, Stanley wherever you may be!” He emptied the glass with one gulp and poured himself another large gin from the glass decanter on the table beside him, then added just a touch of tonic.
“How long has it been now?” he asked aloud, although he knew to the day exactly how long it had been since the events of the Somme. “Miss you, old chum!” Another toast to an empty room.
Archie had experienced a very privileged life and yet he had always felt something was lacking until the day Stanley Birch walked into it. Coming from an aristocratic background, even if it was a virtually penniless one, had meant that most things came easily, but true friends had been something else. His school days had been an absolute nightmare spent mostly at the mercy of bullies, and this had carried on into his adult life, right up until the moment he met Stanley.
They had literally run into each other while taking part in an assault course shortly after enlisting, and they had hit it off straight away despite coming from different backgrounds. Stanley, although well educated and wealthy, had been the son of a family who had made their money through hard work, something Archie’s family frowned upon. The only thing Archie’s ancestors had worked at for the past seven hundred years had been drinking, whoring, gambling and breeding. It saddened him to remember that he had been a bitter disappointment to them in the latter department.
Married to the army for his entire adult life, his bravery had often been tested and to his eternal shame had been found wanting on occasion.
He reached for another drink and then decided not to bother when a feeling of nausea overcame him. Instead, he went over to the French windows and opened them slightly. He breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. The icy air calmed his stomach somewhat and he looked out in awe at the scene that greeted him. Freshly fallen snow on the house and gardens had created a true winter wonderland.
“Wouldn’t like to be out there on a night like this,” he thought to himself, while at the same time acknowledging his appreciation of the refreshing breeze in his face. Up until a few seconds earlier he had been feeling rather flushed and had experienced a strange trickling sensation across the right side of his scalp.
The walnut grandfather clock in the hall struck a quarter to the hour and Archie was reminded of the imminent New Year and the need to go and rejoin his guests. As he turned to make his way across the wooden panelled room towards the light shining from the rooms beyond, he noticed another person standing in the shadows to his left. At first, he thought Lydia had returned to chide him.
“No! It can’t be! Stanley!” he cried out. “My God, old boy, don’t tell me I'm going bloody loopy again? Not at my age!” He laughed, the sheer joy of seeing his old friend wiping away everything but happiness from his mind.
“Afraid you’re not going mad -– not that you ever were, Archie!” Stanley replied, smiling. “This time we’re both dead!”
***
New Year’s Day 1939
Stanley and Archie were sitting beside the glowing fireplace in the red reception room at RoYds.
“It's all about balance,” said Stanley. “There are those on the dark side who also desire the continuance of light. It is why the world of the Living is so attractive to them in the first place.”
“I see,” muttered Archie caressing his chin. “So who or what causes the problem?”
“There have always been those who wish for total darkness, not only in their own realm but also in that of the Living. They whisper dark words and thoughts. Poison and plague so that only darkness can be seen everywhere and in everything. We do our bit to ensure that the balance is maintained and in return hope that our actions will be... placed on account.”
“I see,” repeated Archie, his hand still rubbing his chin. “I always hoped that God would be forgiving...”
“Ah, but the crux of the matter is can we forgive ourselves!”
Stanley contemplated his interaction with Archie. Thinking back to the time of his own crossing, he remembered how difficult it was and how hard to accept that there was no going back to the old way of existence.
“Oh, no need to worry about that, old chap!” said Archie gaily. “There never was much of an old life for me, you know. I think that is why I delayed in the first place; I could well imagine what could possibly be waiting for me on the other side of the light, what with my track record!” He laughed nervously. “Then I saw you and my choice was made!”
Stanley laughed lightly. “That’s another thing I meant to tell you, but you will no doubt pick it all up as you go along. We have different abilities on this side. There are those who can read thoughts, others feelings. There are those who can do both and much more besides. It all goes to make life, or perhaps I should say delay, more fun!”
Archie gave a great big belly laugh and reached over to tap his old friend on the shoulder. “Can’t tell you how much I missed you, old pal! Good to have you back!”
“Same here!” replied Stanley before continuing in a more serious tone. “As you would expect there are downsides too. Although we can frequent the world of the Living, walk amongst them and interact as one of them, we cannot return to our old way of life. Apart from extremely rare occasions, we either appear as strangers to the ones we love or not at all.”
“I’m sorry, old chap! That way with Edwardina, was it? Must have been hard...” Archie lowered his eyes. Stanley knew Archie was aware of how deeply his old friend loved his wife.
For a while, both men remained silent and then Stanley announced, “There are others here too, Archie, those you may have only read or dreamed about.”
“Like what?” Archie enquired, sounding fearful.
“Ah! That would be telling,” sighed Stanley. “Tell you what, though. Why don’t you try to read my mind?”
PrevLabels: 1930s, Archie, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 15 - Fury |
2007
It had been a dark day. The air was heavy with static and he sensed there was a storm coming. He knew that he would experience a migraine before the storm itself; the aura had already started to drain his body and his vision was becoming grainy. His cheekbones ached and there was a pulsing at his temples as the storm’s teeth sank deeper into his flesh.
He stood watching the nightclub. His nerves strained as his hatred and fury rose.
Vermin
He noticed a taxi pull up and a group of people leaving. It was getting late. He had no idea how long he had been there.
A young girl walked by. Her long, extended bleach-blonde hair caught his attention as she passed under the lamppost. Her sweet musky perfume agitated his head further and poisoned his stomach. He couldn't help but notice that her lips were thick with grease and most of her flesh was exposed. He started to follow her. The street lights around him went out one by one.
***
“I’ve got to go!”
“Come on, Kerry, the party’s just starting!”
“No, I’ve really got to go. My Dad’ll be waiting for me. I should have been home five minutes ago!”
“Oh, right then,” came the sarcastic response. “See you tomorrow, if you are allowed out again.”
Going the long way round would mean being a further twenty minutes late and she could not risk it. There was only one thing to do: she would have to cut through the cemetery.
By the time she reached the cemetery gates, her heart was thumping in her neck and from where she was standing she could just make out the light shining in the window of a neighbour's house.
She removed her high-heeled party shoes and felt the cold, damp ground beneath her stockinged feet. For a moment she considered running across the grass and then dismissed the idea, convinced that her legs would probably shake so much they would slow her down and defeat the purpose of her using this shorter route.
One, two, three, go! Kerry Crabtree began running as fast as she could. The tarmac road was relatively gentle on her feet and she kept her eyes focused on the light ahead.
It was stupid really. She was more likely to see them at work or in town than in the cemetery, but at least in those other places she had company around her and could pretend that they were just like anyone else. Here and now, she could not manage to fool herself into thinking that they were anything but dead.
She was coming up to her grandmother’s grave; not far now, only a few hundred yards left. There was a rustling to her left and something began to move quickly across the grass; it was catching up with her fast.
Tears streamed across her cheeks as she reached for the silver locket around her neck as if it were some kind of lifeline.
***
Kerry Crabtree sat weeping and worrying what her mum was going to say when she arrived home. There were grass stains on her clothing and her hair was dishevelled beyond belief. Everyone she met on the way home was going to assume she was making the walk of shame. She was in an awful lot of trouble.
Where was her handbag and her other shoe? She had looked everywhere but they were nowhere to be found. She would just have to start making her way home and flag down the first car or person she came across. Which way should she go?
After a while she became frustrated and felt like screaming. Eventually, she came across a telephone box and tried to call her mum but could not get through. She decided to call the police; they would help. There was no answer. There must be something wrong with the telephone. Vandals probably.
Her mum was going to kill her if she didn’t get home soon. Somebody must be able to help her! Where was everyone?
Labels: 2007, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 14 - The Bargain |
Winter 1690
Lady Mabel Theawicke flirted with her reflection in the looking glass and decided on the cream-coloured pearl drop earrings. How they accentuated her long white neck! Her pulse quickened slightly.
Beads of snow continued to fall beyond the stone lintel window and the grey-green-washed landscape of the day had been transformed into a sparkling sea of powdered white. She walked over and knelt with one knee upon the window’s cushioned seat and gazed dreamily through the diamond leaded panes. The greenish glass was so thick in places that it slightly distorted her vision in the early evening light.
A sudden movement in the bushes below caught her attention and she struggled to distinguish the cause. She thought she could make out the form of a small animal and she could not restrain a deep gasp of breath as she realised that the creature staring up towards her was a white hare.
The animal’s scream sounded across the waves of snow in the gardens below and suddenly the white-furred hare darted away down the length of the garden and disappeared into the silver birch trees on the near side of Heyleigh dell. Mabel quickly scanned the course it had taken; not a single print of paw had been written in its wake. On other nights, such an omen would have been a good one.
A baby’s screams somewhere in the Hall echoed those of the hare and transported her thoughts back inside the room. Was this her conscience trying to prick her or a warning not to proceed with the night’s dark events? She dismissed the thought; the bargain had been sealed the first time her eyes had met his.
She threw herself down onto the heavily curtained bed and hugged one of the lavender scented woollen blankets. Quickly she cast it aside as a memory of the babe reached out to her from within its heavily woven folds. Nothing was going to change her mind. She knew what she was doing, and the promise of eternal youth was too close to let it escape.
Where was he? Would he wait for her to extinguish the candle or for the fire to die down? She sat up and looked towards the fireplace and her eyes caught on a half-finished goblet of claret on a dark, heavily carved chest close by. It was just what she needed to quench at least one of her thirsts. She fetched the glass and the earthy red liquid fortified her blood and brought some much needed warmth to her chilled veins.
Her gift told her that the latest child had taken its toll on her life-force and death was already crawling the pathways inside her body. Sending him the invitation was the chosen way out for her and nothing would stop her following that course.
The looking glass winked at her from the corner of the room and she couldn’t help a small shudder when she caught sight of herself in its depths. A tired, ageing woman gazed back at her, the capricious one of earlier had been washed away.
She shivered again as a cold breeze crept across her alabaster-pale shoulders and bare arms. A strong, masculine embrace suddenly enclosed her from behind as his body leaned into hers. Another scream erupted from the dell as his lips and waves of ebony hair brushed her neck. The looking glass reflected only a single figure in the room.
***
Sam Omerod ran from the house as if the devil himself was on his heels, the sickly child wrapped in a blanket and clutched close against his thudding chest. Beneath him, his footsteps left a heavy trail in the crunching snow and his frosty breath sailed out before him, forming a ghostly cloud around his body in the dark night air. The faint light in the distance encouraged him onwards as if it had been expecting him to seek it out. Annwn would know what to do.
There was no need to wake her. The latch clicked as he approached and she ushered him in, gently taking the child from him before he bent double and gasped in the warm air. The babe had not cried once on the journey and yet it had wailed pitifully throughout the earlier part of the night. He wasn’t sure if it was dead. Perhaps he had not acted quickly enough.
“Mabel’s dead.” It was more a statement than a question.
He nodded.
“Come sit down by the fire and warm your bones before you set off back again. Tell me what happened.”
He looked at her. How old was she? He could see the faint trace of younger beauty haunting her face. His mind raced; where to begin?
“Grace heard them talking, the Mistress and the stranger... The one that the Master hired to paint her? They were in her room.” He lowered his eyes and looked at the flagstone floor, a black cat arched against his leg.
“Go on.”
“Grace couldn’t get the little one to settle. She’s not been feeding right and the Mistress wouldn’t have owt to do with her. We were frightened because Cook said Nellie Carr’s baby was at death's door and we weren’t sure if the little mite had the same sickness.”
Annwn nodded.
“We thought we would be in trouble if owt happened to it, so Grace went to see if the Mistress wanted me to fetch you or the physician.” He hesitated; this wasn’t easy.
“Get me told, Sam! What did Grace hear?”
A tear ran down his face and he began to shiver slightly as the chill of the night left his body.
“Grace was frightened when she heard the stranger with the Mistress in her room...” His cheeks were wet and he wiped his hand across them and pinched his nose with his finger and thumb stifling a sob. With a newfound courage, he let his eyes meet hers for the first time that night.
“The Mistress begged him to make her like him. A creature of the night, she said. He just laughed at her and told her she was a feeble human and could never be anything else. She was afraid of death, see? So she told him she was much more than that and offered him her soul if he would save her from death. She said she knew he could do it.”
He waited as Annwn gazed at the sleeping child in her arms and then back at him. Her look made him think that she already knew what the Mistress had done.
“What has she done, Sam?”
He shook his head as if trying to deny the night's events before continuing his tale. He pointed at the baby before him. “She bartered the baby’s soul,” he whispered, almost as if he was afraid of eavesdroppers. “As well as one from every generation which follows her.”
Prev
AnnwnLabels: 1690s, Annwn, Mabel, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 13 - Bound to the Earth |
2007
Lady Mabel Theawicke entered the room in which she had died and looked across to where there had once stood a heavily carved and curtained four poster bed. The view through the stone lintel and leaded windows had changed dramatically over the past three hundred years and yet she could still picture the fields and woods that had once been there.
Sometimes there was nothing at all. At other times, especially when a crisp layer of frost coated the ground and the nights crept in early, there was a part of her that knew she was still capable of giving up her soul to him. Cold, swollen tears fell as she remembered the taste of claret, the scent of lavender, the feel of soft woollen blankets and above all else the rush of his hair through her fingers.
Her thoughts were disturbed by an approaching coach party and their guide tramping through the Hall in their haste to reach the goal of a cream tea and rummage in the souvenir shop. The tale of Heyleigh Hall's Wicked Grey Lady had been attracting visitors for centuries. Lady Mabel considered it ironic that her infamy was enabling the present Lord to keep the property in family hands.
“I thought I might find you here,” Stanley said, clearly considering his words carefully. It occurred to him that Elizabeth and Lady Mabel were alike in some ways.
“Why does Elizabeth remind you of me?” Lady Mabel asked, drawing her attention away from the window.
“You are both such strong women,” Stanley answered without hesitation.
Lady Mabel threw her head back and laughed. The temperature in the room sank rapidly. Stanley knew without doubt that if any member of the Living had been in the room at that moment, their blood would have run cold.
Lady Mabel raised her eyes to boldly meet his. “I never was a victim.”
"Elizabeth has returned," Stanley announced, changing the subject.
“I never doubted she would,” Lady Mabel responded coldly, just as a tour guide and group of tourists entered the room.
“...this is reputedly the room of Lady Mabel Theawicke -– the Wicked Grey Lady of Heyleigh Hall -– who in 1690 made a pact with a disciple of the devil. According to local legend, her soul haunts the Hall and its grounds to this day and is said to be bound to the earth forever. You can see her portrait hanging in the long gallery...”
Stanley found himself recollecting the night Edwardina had entered the light without taking more than a second to acknowledge his presence. He could hardly bear the knowledge that she had chosen to leave him.
Lady Mabel approached him, her full grey skirts sashaying across the oak floor as she did so. “There was nothing to hold her back.”
Labels: 2007, Mabel, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 12 - Help Yourself |
1940
Billy found himself face to face with the solicitor who had been appointed to represent him at his trial. He looked on absently as Stanley Birch brushed an invisible fleck from his immaculately pressed grey flannel trousers and then pushed a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches across the wooden table between them.
“Help yourself.”
Billy, taking a cigarette from the packet and placing it between his dry lips, shook out a match from the box and struck it; as much as he hated accepting charity he accepted that beggars couldn't be choosers.
“I know about the Lancastria,” Stanley announced.
Billy glanced up at Stanley and made eye contact with him for the first time.
“It must have been a terrible thing to have lived through. I can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like it myself. I can only relate to my experiences of the Somme during the Great War.”
Billy remained silent.
Stanley continued , “There is no doubt that you fired that shot, no doubt whatsoever. What is arguable is whether that shot was intended for someone else.”
Billy started coughing violently. Retching and spluttering, he tried to stand up but tripped over the legs of his chair and fell to the floor.
Stanley rushed forward, helped him up and took him back to his chair. Retrieving the lighted cigarette from the floor where it had fallen, Stanley stubbed it out in the ashtray and offered Billy a pristine white handkerchief to clean up the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“I suspect that you’ll be suffering from the damage you sustained that day for the rest of your life.”
Billy took the handkerchief and wiped his mouth. "Thanks," he muttered begrudgingly.
Stanley smiled. “We need to prepare for the trial. Even if you don't want to save your own neck, there is still your family to consider.”
“I didn't mean it for her!”
“I understand." Stanley seemed to be trying to sound reassuring.
Billy bowed his head. “I’ll never forgive myself for killing Peg! Never!”
***
Five years’ hard labour! He had thought he would hang for sure. Part of him felt the death penalty would have been an easier sentence. Still, he had done well getting away with murder -– crying shame he had shot Peg instead of Michael.
“Never fret, Lawrence. We’ll get you one way or the other,” sneered the police officer guarding him. “You get five minutes with your Brief and then five with the lovely Mrs Lawrence. I’d lay money on her not going without for the rest of the war!” he grinned lewdly.
Billy clenched his fist and his stomach snapped tight. “Bastard! If it wasn’t for these bloody handcuffs I’d kill you,” he raged.
“No doubt you’d love to, Lawrence. But then I’d just be another one to add to your list now wouldn’t I?”
Billy kicked out violently with his foot and toppled the chair in front of him.
Stanley Birch entered and discovered Billy and the middle-aged police constable glaring at one another. He could have cut the tension in the atmosphere with a knife.
“Five minutes, sir,” stated the constable to Stanley as he prepared to leave the lawyer alone with his client.
“Constable Allen, isn’t it?” enquired Stanley.
“Yes, sir. Have we met before? I thought you were from out of town?”
“I’m sure one day I’ll have the pleasure, Constable,” replied Stanley sarcastically. Constable Allen stared back quizzically and then left the room.
Stanley turned to face Billy and gestured towards the wooden table and chairs in the middle of the room. Both men sat down across the table from one another.
“Thank you, sir,” said Billy sincerely.
“I was only too willing to help, Corporal Lawrence,” replied Stanley. “When the jury returned the manslaughter verdict I had hoped that the judge would have been merciful.”
Billy seemed to be avoiding Stanley's gaze and kept his eyes aimed down at the table’s rough surface. “I don’t deserve to go free, Mr Birch. I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I've done. It'll haunt me for the rest of my life!”
“Only if you let it,” replied Stanley. “Imagine that Peg is here in this room with us now. What would she say? Do you think that she would forgive you?”
“Yes,” answered Billy, wiping away an escaped tear. “She was a good woman was Peg. The best I ever met. She did not deserve to die like that.”
“Then you need to learn to forgive yourself,” declared Stanley, standing up and offering his hand. “Goodbye and good luck, Corporal Lawrence. Perhaps we’ll meet again one day under more fortunate circumstances.”
Billy came to his feet quickly and clasped Stanley’s extended hand with both his own. “I owe you a great debt, Mr Birch. I am very grateful to the Army for sending you to help me.”
Stanley walked towards the door then halted and turned to face Billy with a twinkle in his eye. “It wasn't the Army who sent me, Corporal Lawrence.”
“Well if it wasn’t the Army that sent you, Mr Birch, who did?”
“Peg!” replied Stanley over his shoulder as he left the room.
Labels: 1940s, Billy, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 11 - Choir of Gargoyles |
2007
Sarah did not get the chance to speak before Elizabeth began to see and hear past events unfolding.
Two glasses and wine bottles on the polished steel coffee table. Sarah sitting stunned on the sofa. Mathew prowling around the room like an angry cat, his voice slightly raised and cold.
“What the hell do you want from me? I’ve no idea where all this has come from! You must be deluded or something! I’m not ready for commitment or anything remotely like it, and probably never will be, so don’t hold your breath!”
“But... I thought you loved me! I thought...”
“No, you didn’t bloody think, did you? That’s half the problem; you are too busy dreaming to ever really think.”
Sarah pulling the pieces of herself together, searching around for a little self-respect as Mathew fights to regain his control and get rid of her without too much of a scene.
“Just forget what I said, will you? I’ve had too much to drink and you know how emotional we women get with alcohol.” Her smile hollow.
Mathew looking relieved to pretend it was not serious, his interest now concentrating on smoothing things over while he had to. “Right! Happy to do so! Look... I’m sorry for going off on one, too. You know it was just a shock... I thought you understood it was a bit of fun?”
“Yes, of course, a bit of fun. As I said, too much to drink.”
“No problem. Look, it’s late. I have work in the morning.”
“I can’t drive home. I was supposed to be staying over; I’ve been drinking.”
“You can sleep in the spare room. I’ll be up and out early in the morning.”
The spare room.
Spare...
Spare.
Elizabeth looked across to Sarah. It was all clearly written on her face. How had she failed to see it before? “You took your own life?”
Sarah flinched. “They were going on at me -– the voices. I wanted to shut them up. I didn’t really want to die!” She began to cry again, this time silent tears.
Elizabeth heard the voices, a choir of gargoyles whispering dark words.
He would never love you
No one ever will
“I know, Sarah. It's OK. I understand." Elizabeth moved closer to Sarah and Tashriel, who was comforting her. "Did you see a light Sarah? Can you see the light?" she asked tenderly.
“I’m too scared to go into it.”
“Many are,” Elizabeth looked at Tashriel. “Others find their options are limited.”
Tashriel stood back a step and held Sarah tenderly by the shoulders,. “The light will be waiting for you whenever you feel ready to go into it.”
Elizabeth put a hand on Sarah’s arm . “You are ready to leave Mathew and this flat behind for good, though, aren't you? Isn't that why you came to us?"
Sarah acknowledged Elizabeth’s words with a slight incline of her head.
“Come on, then. Let’s leave,” Tashriel said, breaking away.
A concerned Sarah wandered over to Mathew, “How are we going to explain this to him?”
“No need to worry about him. He'll never know we've been here,” said Tashriel.
“But he’s already seen you!” she exclaimed.
“Ever had a moment where you forgot what you were doing? Searched around in your brain to remember and it never came back to you?”
Sarah smiled. “You’d be surprised. Happens quite a lot lately.”
Tashriel and Elizabeth laughed. “Well, it’s about to happen to Mathew,” Elizabeth said with a grin.
Labels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 10 - Timing |
July 1940
Peg was surprised to see the number of people out and about in the early hours of the morning until it struck her that most of them were dead like Hughie and herself. She wondered if she would bump into anyone else she knew.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Hughie. “It’s not been my experience anyways. It's no coincidence I was at yer home tonight. It’s not like I’ve been hanging around there these past few weeks. I knew you were going to bite the bullet.” He couldn’t resist a gentle snigger at his own pun. “I was doing someone a favour by being there when it happened.”
Peg stopped in her tracks, half her attention taken by Hughie, the other half by a figure partly submerged in the shadowy entrance of the fire station.
“Who?”
“What?” Hughie’s concentration had also been distracted by the figure.
“Who asked you to be there? Was it my mum?” Peg asked eagerly.
“Nay, it was Lady Mabel.”
“...Lady Mabel?“
“Yeah.” Hughie took hold of Peg’s elbow and steered her past the fire station. “She's helped me a few times since I delayed. Let’s go to the cemetery. It’s always very pleasant there in the wee small hours.”
He steered their way to a wooden bench under a cherry blossom tree and they sat down together. “I’ve always thought blossom smells best in the dark,” said Hughie, taking hold of a bough above his head and pulling it down to savour. “Champion, eh?”
Peg smiled in return. “It’s lovely, Hughie. Now, tell me more about Lady Mabel.”
***
Stanley Thomas Birch shuffled the papers on his desk and took a deep breath before running his fingers through his coarse hair and lighting a cigarette. There was a light knock on the door and his associate, Wilfred, entered the room with a cheery smile and a tray of hot tea and biscuits.
“Thought you might be in need of these," he said, putting the tray down and making his way back towards the open door.
“Perfect timing,” Stanley declared as the door handle clicked back into place.
Although he had never been able to read Wilfred's mind fully, Wilfred always had a good idea what was on his. If only he could see deeper into the mind of Billy Lawrence. There was only one thing he knew for certain at this point, the soul of Lawrence had been a fatality even before the unfortunate shot had been fired.
Stanley’s fingers repeated his earlier actions, shuffling papers and combing through his hair, pondering the situation. It might be possible to save Lawrence from the hangman. Thankfully, there were a couple of witnesses whose evidence would help to support a defence and he was certain that he would be able to provoke an unsavoury response from at least one of the prosecution witnesses.
His train of thought was suddenly derailed by a firm knock followed closely by Wilfred carrying his overcoat and a black umbrella.
“Time to leave for your meeting, sir. It’s getting late.”
“Thank you, Wilfred. What would I do without you?” Stanley asked with a grateful smile as he buttoned up his coat. His thoughts once again turned to the case at hand and he wondered idly if any of the Living were concerned about the welfare of Billy Lawrence. Somehow he doubted it.
***
Billy gasped for air. The roaring planes had returned, their machine guns blazing and cracking. He wanted to cover his ears and block it all out but he needed to keep one hand on the piece of debris that was keeping him afloat and the other free to ward off the desperate hands reaching out and clutching at him.
Incendiaries fell like bats diving from the sky and he realised the enemy was trying to set fire to the thick oil blanket covering the surface of the sea as far as the eye could see. Mesmerised, Billy stared ahead to where a crest of bodies had gathered and were performing a macabre dance in the waves. He clung desperately to the debris and then recoiled in horror as he realised he was clutching Charlie’s corpse.
Demons screamed at him from all directions.
You’re going to hell, Lawrence!
“I’m already bloody there!” he screamed back.
Suddenly everything went dark. Something was crawling on top of him, smothering him with its weight, pushing him under the surface of the freezing water. A silent scream erupted as he clawed frantically to free himself.
Sitting up with a start, Billy scanned the shadows of his cell and realised he had been dreaming.
Labels: 1940s, Billy, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Stanley, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| RoYds Part 9 - Moving On |
2007
Sunshine swept into the room from two directions, creating a warm glow and highlighting the figure in the doorway. Long blonde hair shone like starlight against an attire of midnight blue jeans and a deep velvet shirt. As usual, Tashriel presented a very attractive image. Elizabeth struggled to decide if it was all an act of nature or partly his own doing.
“You think so lowly of me these days?” Tashriel asked, raising one of his perfectly arched brows and casting Elizabeth a disapproving look at the same time.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Elizabeth retorted sharper than she had intended and then thought better of it.
Tashriel shrugged, “Forgiven -- always. It happens to the best of us.” He walked over to the window and looked out onto the busy shopping street below.
Elizabeth contented herself by pretending to study the intricate patterns of the William Morris wallpaper and glaring furiously at an empty desk, which was soon to be occupied by Gemma Bolton.
Probably be in my grave just as fast
“RoYds goes on,” Tashriel remarked gently removing his hands from the pockets of his jeans and walking towards the half-glass panelled door leading directly to the street. “Shall we move on? Sarah Entwistle will be expecting us shortly.”
***
Howell Place was in the middle of Market Street; a long winding road of crowded stone buildings from beginning to end. Built in the early 19th Century as a place of worship, it was one of the few grand structures in Whituth. Elizabeth silently scoffed at the shiny brass plaque prominently displayed on the honey-coloured boundary wall.
“Something wrong?” Tashriel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I preferred it when it was a chapel.”
“As did I,” Tashriel responded, opening the recently erected black cast-iron gate. “A church cannot survive without parishioners though,” he added despondently.
As they approached the main entrance to the building, Elizabeth concluded that the developer had done an excellent job of keeping the conversion in line with the character of the building.
She studied the list of names and doorbells; there was no Sarah Entwistle. Elizabeth tried to remember the name of the friend Sarah had mentioned as the person she was renting the flat from. Matt or something similar. One of the doorbells was for a Mathew Billington. She pressed the shiny brass button.
“Hello?”
“Sarah? It’s Elizabeth Whyte from RoYds and I have a friend with me.”
The buzzer startled her slightly as Sarah released the lock on the main door. Upon entering the building, they were greeted by a smiling Sarah standing in the doorway to their left.
Sarah waved to them. “Over here,” she announced cheerily.
Elizabeth introduced Tashriel as a colleague. He walked around slowly with a hand-held device, mumbling something about a “proton Magnetometer” to monitor changes in the flat’s magnetic field –- people usually found this comforting and would let down their guard somewhat, allowing Tashriel to take his own kind of “readings” -- whilst Elizabeth tried to take in as much of the atmosphere as she could without appearing too obvious.
The layout was open plan with three doors at the far end leading to what Elizabeth assumed to be sleeping and bathroom areas. The two side walls were a crisp far-reaching canvas of white with a trio of leaded gothic-arched windows along the outer wall. A streak of abstract paintings had been hung to perfection on the interior wall and a state-of-the-art sound system took pride of place beneath them. It was clearly a show-flat rather than a home.
“Please take a pew.” Sarah pointed to a pretentious magenta and lemon sofa. “Would you like some tea?”
“Not for me, thanks,” replied Elizabeth. “Would you mind if I had a quick walk around the other rooms to get a feel for things? Oh, by the way, we didn’t find any related problems with local transmitters or masts.”
“Damn!” exclaimed a disappointed Sarah. “I suppose I didn’t really expect you to, but I hoped that you might be able to help me in some way or another.”
As she spoke, the multi-faceted designer light fitting above them flickered and a James Blunt CD began to play,
"I took your soul out into the night..."
An ashen Sarah threw herself down into a tangerine leather armchair and began to sob hysterically. Elizabeth looked at Tashriel who was walking towards the music system and as he did so, Elizabeth sensed another male presence in the flat. Although his name came quickly to her, Elizabeth hesitated to use it.
“Sarah, look at me!” Elizabeth commanded before kneeling down in front of the distraught woman and clasping her hands with her own. “Look me in the eyes. I want you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth slowly. Concentrate on just doing that.”
Sarah looked at Elizabeth through mascara-smudged eyes. “Don’t worry; I am going to sort this problem out for you. OK?” Releasing Sarah's hands she stood up and was joined by Tashriel at her side.
Sarah reached for a cushion behind her and held it close.
Elizabeth glanced at Tashriel and called out the name of the presence in the flat with them, “Mathew.”
A door at the far side of the room opened and a wet, towel-clad Mathew Billington appeared.
“Who the devil are you people and what the hell are you doing in my flat?” he shouted, thoroughly enraged and rushing towards them. Tashriel calmly reached out and placed his fingertips lightly upon Mathew’s cheek.
Elizabeth stared at a frozen Mathew Billington who was now standing only a couple of feet away with a stationary droplet of water on his bare chest.
Labels: 2007, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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