| Billy Part 5 - Solace |
1690
“You did well, Sam! Come rest here now while we have a brew and seek some solace for our weary bones.”
Sam Omerod didn't need to be asked twice; he lifted the sleeping black cat from the settle and placed it firmly on the stone floor before taking its place in the glowing firelight. The night had been a long one and these past few hours even longer. Did she have the skill to stretch time also? He wouldn’t put it past her.
He watched as Annwn poured the hot liquid and offered him a heavily carved wooden cup which looked somewhat out of place amidst the simplicity of the cottage. Reaching out, he accepted it gratefully. He had no doubt from her manner that there was more work yet to come. He knew that he would be willing to undertake any request that she should make of him despite his newly discovered exhaustion.
He took a sip of the tincture that lay beneath the rising steam and relaxed in the knowledge that the babe was safe. The wise one had worked her magic on Nellie Carr and then laid the dead baby in the empty cradle up at Heyleigh Hall. There would be no one to know it was a changeling, apart from Grace.
He grimaced as he thought of Grace. He doubted that she had the ability to keep the night’s events to herself. He was sure that Annwn had not missed this either. He sighed deeply and taking another sip, closed his eyes for a moment. How long would it be before sleep washed away this night?
He listened absently as Annwn walked over to the door and let her small white dog out, whispering words Sam did not quite catch. He felt the cold wind rush over the threshold from the open doorway and shivered slightly.
“There’s no need to worry anymore, Sam,” Annwn soothed.
He instinctively knew that she was leaning over him and smiling softly. He looked up and forced himself to blink hard several times. What was wrong with him? She looked like a young maid! He shook his head and tried to wipe the phantom sleep from his eyes. He began to panic, fearing that he had caught a chill or worse still the pox from Nellie Carr’s baby. Woe that this should be the death of him also! He wasn’t ready to die yet. There was still much that he wanted to do!
He shivered once more and realising how deep the cold had travelled within him, he yearned to feel the warmth again quickly. Suspecting that the brew would do him good, he tried to raise the cup to his mouth and was astonished to see it lying on the dark flagstone floor, a red stain creeping across the rushes beneath his feet. He searched his mind frantically -– when had he dropped it? He must have truly fallen asleep and be prey to one of slumber’s tricks!
“Hush, Sam. You’re not sleeping.” He felt Annwn lay her warm hand comfortingly upon his own. His eyes followed the movement and he stared in fascination at his own matching youthful flesh. Was he dreaming or victim to one of her spells?
“What have ye done to me!” he asked in awe, rising to his feet. “Am I bewitched?”
Annwn’s laughter was as youthful as her looks. “I’ve rewarded you, Sam, given you back the last sixty years. How you use them is up to you. There is but one condition: you must leave these parts immediately, walk away and never return.”
“What about Grace?”
“No need to worry about Grace anymore, Sam. Go on, now. Be off with you and enjoy the gift I’ve given. You’ve new warm clothes and there’s plenty of gold in your pockets, so you will not be wanting.” She opened the door and encouragingly patted his shoulder, again whispering words he didn’t quite catch as he passed through it.
He didn’t feel the bitter snow beneath his newly acquired leather boots or the iced wind through the woollen cloak he was now wearing. Within a minute he had forgotten what his other existence had been and within hours he was enjoying a life Sam Omerod had only previously dreamed of.
PrevLabels: 1690, Billy, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
posted by Miladysa @ 00:01  |
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| Billy Part 4 - Blossoms Fell |
2008
The material beneath her fingers was heavily textured, the flesh beneath it firm and hot. Elizabeth sank towards him and then arched backwards, her long fair hair rippling down her back and swaying as she moved.
The wind whipped through the heavily layered trees of the dell and stroked their exposed skin as it swept across the hollow where they lay. Flecks of cold rain and blossoms fell, a sweet heady scent travelling with every breath it took. Above them, iron water cascaded onto stone.
Grispheran’s tongue traced its way down her neck, across her shoulder and then delicately found the divot in her clavicle. The soft kiss of his teeth leaving puddles of pressure which increased with each move he made, her pleasure increasing with his passion.
Elizabeth’s fingers kneaded his shoulders before she cupped his face and lowered her lips to his.
You belong to me, Bess
Besieged with an overwhelming panic, she woke up with a jolt! Her heart raced and her eyes scanned the shadows catching sight of Grispheran watching her from the window seat. Moonlight seeped into the room from behind him and painted his silhouette and a fraction of the wall and floor with a silver glow. Elizabeth squinted across the room towards him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snarled, sitting up and brushing her hair back across the crown of her head with her fingers.
The fallen angel stood and came towards her. The lace-trim cuffs of his white shirt reflecting the light of the moon against the blackness of his coat.
Elizabeth’s heart raced as he leaned over her, stretching his hand out as though to brush a stray wisp of hair away from her face. Her right hand shot out defensively. Grispheran reacted with an inhuman speed, dragging her effortlessly from the bed and holding her firmly against the length of his body. Her feet dangled several inches above the floor beneath.
“Dreaming about me again, Bess?” he whispered harshly but seductively. Her face was pressed into his long thick hair and its earthy scent was undeniably arousing. She jerked her head away from it before losing herself completely.
“Don’t flatter yourself!” She snapped back at him.
Grispheran’s vice-like grip, however, left her otherwise completely at his mercy. She had no option but to remain pressed tightly against him. She fought to draw her thoughts away from the waves of his hair, the silky texture of his coat, the warmth emanating through fabric stretched across the muscles of his thighs and the harsh, awakened memories of the steely form that lay within.
I will not succumb
He slid his right hand into her hair, pulled her head back and brought his mouth firmly down upon her own.
You will!
Elizabeth struggled momentarily against his kisses before passionately returning them. Instantly, she was standing alone in the room with nothing but Grisperhan’s laughter encircling her. That laughter grated against her weakness and pierced another chink in the feeble armour she fought to possess.
“I hate you!” she shouted at the empty air he’d left behind.
His laughter rang out once more in return and then faded.
PrevLabels: 2008, Billy, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Volume 2, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 22:47 |
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| Billy Part 3 - Choir of Gargoyles |
2008
Elizabeth cringed as she commenced her trek across the highly polished floor of the library accompanied by the nerve-tingling click click click of her high-heeled boots. A choir of gargoyles commented on every step.
Too much noise
Elizabeth reached the harbour of the doorway and smiled at the librarian who, even though she was sitting at a low desk, managed to look down at Elizabeth from over the tops of her contemporary spectacles.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so. I have a reader booked for 11:00?”
“Ah, yes. You wanted to look at the Observer archives?”
Elizabeth tried to focus on the smilingly insincere professional in front of her and fought to retain a portion of the instructions she was being bombarded with. Eventually, she managed to get a word in edgeways, “I have used one before, I should be OK.”
Photograph: Miladysa
The librarian nodded brusquely, showed Elizabeth to the machine and returned to her desk. Elizabeth took off her long red coat and glanced shiftily around the room. As she slid the chair back, the legs scraped loudly across the floor. She grimaced and felt even more uncomfortable when she observed several other people quietly and competently engaged in research. She cringed again as her car keys slipped from her coat pocket and clattered to the floor.
Idiot
She bent down to retrieve them and tried unsuccessfully to avoid eye contact with an elderly gentleman to her left. Her hands shook as she loaded the microfiche into the reader. Why couldn’t she just calm down? It did not take long to find the edition she was looking for; it was front page news. The microfiche, however, was rather grainy and difficult to read.
“WHY DID I DO IT?” MURDER CHARGE AGAINST LOCAL SOLDIER A Midnight Call to the Police With bowed head and obviously under great mental stress, William Lawrence, aged 34 years, of 24 George Street appeared in the dock at the Borough Police Court on Monday to answer to a charge that he “feloniously, wilfully and of his malice aforethought” did kill and slay. It is understood he had been on leave from the army in which he holds the non-commissioned rank of Corporal. The court proceedings were brief. Superintendent Finch said it was proposed to offer evidence of arrest only at that stage and Lawrence was remanded until Wednesday of next week. The Chairman stating that a certificate of legal aid would be granted. Mr S T Birch, who was present in court, replying to the Chairman said he was prepared to act for the accused.
Mr S T Birch? Stanley! That was a surprise to add to the fact that she had been correct in her assumptions about her grandfather being involved in the death of her great-grandmother.
Even though the information she had uncovered was grim, Elizabeth was excited by her discovery. It was liberating to release a secret from the past. Who else knew that her grandfather had been a murderer?
Minutes later, the microfiche displayed the report of the murder trial in the December 1940 edition of the paper. The headlines cut to the core.
FIVE YEARS “PENAL” FOR SOLDIER
A Story of Disputes and Drink
“All right, dear?” Elizabeth was startled back into the present by another interruption from the overly helpful librarian.
“Yes, of course I am!" she snapped.
Now you know who you get your temper from
“I was only trying to help,” muttered the librarian, clearly hurt by Elizabeth’s rebuttal. Feeling guilty, Elizabeth decided it was time to take a break and headed to the library café.
***
Fortified by a full pot of tea and a four-finger Kit-Kat, Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and prepared to return to the local studies section and continue her research. It was interesting learning more about her grandfather like this. She supposed that she was learning more about herself in a roundabout way.
Billy Lawrence had not been perfect, yet Stanley had still thought highly of him. She did not like to admit it, but perhaps Grispheran had been correct when he claimed that she was her own torturer.
The discarded red wrapper of the Kit-Kat glared accusingly at her from the edge of the saucer, mocking her lack of resistance to temptation.
Should have had the smaller one
PrevLabels: 2008, Billy, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Volume 2, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 18:01 |
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| Billy Part 2 - Wild Flowers |
1945
Some days Peg just wanted to fade away -- into the background, into herself, into oblivion. So far, today was not one of those days.
The little white dog, which for some unknown reason had befriended Hughie and Peg, ran on ahead, splashing through shallow puddles as they lagged behind, gathering twigs for playing Pooh Sticks at the little bridge that crossed the river farther down the cinder path. Peg's senses were romanced by birdsong, laughter and the faint scent of blossom. The sun's rays washed across the top of her head and shoulders.
When they reached the bridge, the games began in earnest. Peg and Hughie squealed with joy and only just stopped short of throwing themselves head first off the arched platform to join their twigs in the grey waters below. Squeals turned to moans as potential champions crash-landed upon slabs of rock or were snagged by weeds.
It had not been so long ago that Peg and Hughie had played here as happy carefree children while their mothers watched them play and smiled encouragement.
Peg felt positive that despite the prison sentence everything was going to work out for Anne and Billy. Stanley had assured her that a position with RoYds would be offered to Billy upon his release. Peg was relieved that Michael had already moved on and appeared content with his life without her in it.
Peg looked up to see a tearful Hughie clutching a bunch of wildflowers in his outstretched hand.
“For me?” she asked, smiling as she reached out to take them from him.
“Aye, lass. Know what’s on your mind so I thought I would make it easier for yer. There’s nothing I can say as might change yer mind, like?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly before he muffled the sound by clearing his throat.
There’s nothing more I can do here,” she whispered into the flowers as she lowered her head to enjoy their fragrance.
“Aye, well, I suppose that’s it then,” he said looking away. He lowered his eyes and kept them fixed on the path, sweeping his foot side to side and forming a semi-circle pattern in the cinder layer beneath it. “I’m going to miss yer...”
“It will be lovely to see my mum and dad again, Hughie! My grandparents and my brother too!” Peg beamed at him.
Hughie continued ploughing the cinders with his foot.
Peg reached out and touched the sleeve of his uniform. “Why don’t we go together?” She asked tentatively. “There must be family you would like to see? What about your parents?”
Hughie shook his head. “Sorry, lass. I’m going nowhere. Our Millie needs me. She’s no one else...and someone needs to look out for her. Plus...”
“Plus? Plus what?”
Hughie raised his head, surveyed the landscape around them and crumpled his face. “The dell’s my heaven, Peg!” He stepped forward and placed a tear-coated kiss on her forehead. “Give my lot me love,” Hughie announced cheerfully as he stepped a few paces backwards.
Peg nodded and smiled. The little white dog curled against Hughie’s foot as the light swooped down and whisked Peg away. In the distance, leaning against a dry stone wall, a pretty blonde woman in a cherry-red coat watched intently.
PrevLabels: 1945, Billy, Peg, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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| Billy Part 1 - Memory |
2008
The grave lay close to a Weeping Willow, the leaves of which had fallen and were scattered over the surrounding area like autumnal confetti. The late afternoon air was burdened with a grey ice-tinged fog that left only a few pockets of visibility as it whispered its way from the moors and towards the town of Whituth. Elizabeth brushed away some wet leaves clinging to the black marble headstone, then pulling her red coat tight against the chill, set off across the rain-swollen lawns and toward the exit leading to the Moor above.
As she walked, her boots crunched along the gravelled pathway and in the distance, the upper windows of the house where her mother had lived as a child watched her silently. She stopped still and stared back at them. It was at that precise moment when Archibald Templeton stumbled across her.
“Stanley thought I might find you here,” he said in an abrupt manner before adding an unsure smile as an afterthought.
Elizabeth was surprised to see him. She couldn’t remember the last time they had met, but it had to have been several weeks ago now.
“Really? How strange -– it’s not as if I had planned on being here today or anything. Well, not consciously anyway.”
She sensed he was feeling awkward; he certainly gave that impression as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other and played with the rim of the dark brown trilby he was holding.
“Stanley wondered...well, we all did really, when will you be returning to RoYds?
She froze and then found the courage to answer, “I’m not sure...after that last experience with the young girl and... Grispheran. In fact, I’m not even sure if it’s the right thing for me to be doing anymore.”
The wind began to pick up and a leaf-filled gust swirled across their path. Elizabeth shivered.
“It’s too cold to be standing around here chatting,” Archie said cheerily, pulling up the lapels of his perfectly tailored Harris tweed jacket. “Why don’t we go somewhere warm and talk about it?”
Elizabeth sensed he was feeling protective towards her and the better part of her nature nodded her agreement to his suggestion. Several minutes later they found themselves sitting in front of a roaring log fire in the lounge of the Red Lion.
“We’ve all been through something like it, you know? At least I think we all have. During the Great War every second held as much fear for me as the thought that each one could be my last. The thing is, like all matters in life or delay -– it’s always best to get straight back to it. The longer you leave it, the harder it will become.” He finished his sentence with a nod of his head as if to affirm his words.
“You think so?”
“Well, I’m no expert but I do know that running away doesn’t help anyone. Over the past few years, I’ve had to face an awful lot of bloody dodgy situations, I can tell you. Come to think of it, school wasn’t much better either!” He laughed heartily and Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile.
There was an awkward silence before Elizabeth eventually broke it. “I... Grispheran made me relive the worst moments of my life. It came as quite a shock to face up to what I really am.”
He reached over and patted her gloved hand tenderly. “It’s no different for the rest of us, dear. Don’t blame yourself for not being something or someone you were never meant to be. We can’t escape from who we are just because we want to.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. I will give it some thought. Promise.”
***
Elizabeth lost count of the time she spent wandering around the town before she eventually plucked up the courage to enter the gothic-inspired town hall and ordered a copy of a death certificate from the Registry Office within. She apologised for the lack of information when the clerk scowled.
“I know very little about my mother’s family, and I only know this much because of what I could find on the gravestone. My mother died when I was young and...”
The clerk interrupted her mid-sentence, “Well, I can’t promise anything. We have to go through each of the indexes manually. It could take some time," he said curtly. "Take a seat and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.” The clerk closed the opaque glass window as Elizabeth sat down in the pleasantly furnished waiting room.
Elizabeth’s curiosity about her mother’s side of the family had been roused by Lady Mabel Theawicke’s recent mention of her grandfather Billy Lawrence. Elizabeth had little knowledge of him except for a vague memory of sitting beside a roaring coal fire with him as a small child, drinking strong sweet tea. It was going to be interesting to learn more about him and hopefully solve some of the mystery surrounding her family’s past.
On the rare occasions when any of her immediate family had ever had cause to speak of Billy, they had always employed hushed tones and harsh words, giving her the impression that he must have been a horrible person. Once though, Stanley surprised her when he’d told her, “You're great company! Just like your granddad Billy!”
Elizabeth had been shocked. How could a wicked man like her grandfather ever have been on friendly terms with anyone as wonderful as Stanley?
Forty-five minutes later, Elizabeth was interrupted in her musings when the clerk reopened the window and proffered the death certificate she had requested.
“Thank you so much,” Elizabeth said softly. The clerk, making as little eye contact as possible, smiled faintly and closed the window.
Elizabeth scurried outside and scanned the Cause of Death column on the freshly created document:
“I Shock
II Internal haemorrhage
III Punctured wounds of both lungs and left ventricle of heart
IV Fracture of the sternum and fractures of rib
V Penetrating wound due to bullet in the P.M.”
It was true! What she thought she had once heard was correct. She studied the death certificate further. Date of death, July 1940. Yet the original death certificate had not been issued until December 1940. The death had been informed by the Coroner, and there under the column headed “Signature, description, and residence of informant” she discovered something that she had previously overlooked: Inquest held 16 July 1940.
Her next stop would have to be the Local Studies Centre.
Labels: 2008, Billy, Elizabeth, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Volume 2, Web Fiction |
| posted by Miladysa @ 00:01 |
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