Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9)

by Michael Christopher Carter

  Leaping up, she stood, staring, waiting, her heart assailed by a thousand butterflies, some of whom tried escaping from her throat. Quivering fingers smoothed over her mouth. Gulping down her nerves, she was ready to speak.

  She didn’t want to say anything until she was close enough. Shouting would be a bad idea. It was imperative she didn’t frighten her. But the chance escaped before it even arrived. Considerably before the range of the lamp, and therefore not close enough to Elin, the girl stopped, glanced at her phone and turned around. Shit!

  Walking off, she dragged Elin’s hope away with every soft, trainer-clad step. Where was she going now? The corner shop? Chippy? Maybe meeting friends in the pub; all of which pastimes Elin was immensely familiar. “It doesn’t matter,” she persuaded herself. “She’ll have to come back sometime. I’ll be here! Then I’ll get her to help me.” She ignored the little voice nagging her determination.

  “Not if it’s after first light,” it whined.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Neil’s lectures had gone well, as he’d promised himself they would. Assignments he’d been behind with, he’d studiously sought advice from tutors, and now felt more than capable of completing them.

  He’d followed up on his ambition to pass his driving test and telephoned his old instructor, Sioned. A note of ambiguity had been detected in her voice. He knew he’d not been the easiest person to teach. He’d been a little highly strung. But his calm tone today convinced her. They’d even arranged a lesson this evening to kick things off.

  Neil met her outside college and took his first driving lesson in months.

  “Have you been having lessons with someone else?” asked Sioned as she began to relax next to her newly skilled pupil. “You certainly have come on well.” She smiled at him

  “I’ve had a few with my dad. I got a car for Christmas.”

  “Ah. I see,” she smiled again. “We can put in for your test if you like? For about a month’s time?”

  “That’s fantastic. Do you really think I’ll be ready?” He couldn’t believe how today was turning out. Sioned nodded and wrote in her diary.

  “I’ll see you again on Friday then?” and with that, Neil got out of the car and made his way to one of the popular bars in Uplands above the city centre. On Wednesdays, they had student discounts on food and drink and Neil was in just the mood to celebrate.

  A car pulled up outside the house.

  “Thanks a lot. You’re a star. See you at the weekend… Bye.”

  Elin couldn’t hear the reply, but recognised the girl as she got out. Her heart raced, and bizarrely, beads of perspiration (a dream with sweat?) formed on her brow and chest. This was it. What should she say? When confronted with what she thought was a ghost, she’d called a priest. What would she do now?

  The car pulled away leaving the girl stood in the street waving noisy goodbyes until it disappeared round the corner. The anticipation was getting too much for Elin. “Come on,” she whispered, “this is important.”

  The girl laughed and threw her arms out like wings. Head flung back, her laughing got louder.

  “I am sooo drunk!” she exclaimed.

  Disappointment trickled into Elin like a filling cistern, ready to flush her hope down the toilet yet again. Even if the girl heard her or saw her, would she be able to get any sense from her anyway?

  Stepping out of the road, the girl stumbled forward and cackled at the hilarity. Elin counted three attempts at least for the drunken girl to make it over the kerb and she was losing patience. Maybe she should scare her and teach her a lesson. She stopped herself. She knew the silly drunk was oblivious to the fact she’d exorcised someone in the middle of a dream and it was important she should have stayed sober.

  ‘Calm down Elin. Keep it together.’

  Stumbling along the pavement, she paused within a few feet of the lamp post. ‘She can see me,’ Elin gasped. Clearing her throat, she smiled in an effort to appear friendly.

  “Hello,” she said cheerily. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you, but I need your help.”

  The girl looked thoughtful for a moment. Elin raised on tiptoe in nervous anticipation of her response. Stumbling again, the girl rushed, lurching towards her and grabbing the lamppost for support.

  “Hi,” Elin tried again, but gave up when the reason for the girl’s headlong pitch forwards became disgustingly apparent. Still holding the post, she bent over double and spewed all over the pavement.

  Rage coursed through Elin at the revolting sight of vomit trickling down the post. She shocked herself at her anger. This dream Elin was so unlike who she thought she was in real life. With the admission, the fury dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. The poor girl didn’t realise what she’d done. She couldn’t be accountable. And Elin needed her help when she sobered up.

  Once the girl hauled herself up the steps to the front door, fumbled surprisingly efficiently with the key and disappeared inside, Elin was left to her thoughts again. Her thoughts, and a revolting puddle of alcoholic puke. Relief her state of consciousness excluded her sense of smell was marred by worry over her belligerence.

  Everything life had thrown at her she had dealt with calmly with compassion. ‘There, but for the grace of God, go I,’ was a faithful mantra. Yet here she was, quick to judge and even quicker to a violent rage. She had controlled herself, but that had never been necessary before. It was a difficult situation of course, but something about being here at this house brought the worst out in her.

  Her plan to acquire help wasn’t going at all well. She had no choice but to wait for the students to come and go, and try to get their attention. When she could expect the next arrival she had no idea, but light would break the darkness soon and she’d no doubt fade into the air as she had before, like a puddle after summer rain.

  Her natural optimism held steadfast to the fact she would reappear at dusk. But festering within was an ulcer of fear that knew it wasn’t a fact at all.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Neil’s day was the best he’d had this year. It was amazing what a positive mental attitude could achieve. He’d felt good about his lectures and assignments, and better yet about his driving—not least because he’d found the courage to call Sioned in the first place. Using the phone always made him awkward. Knowing she’d not been keen to teach him anymore worsened it. And yet he’d turned it around and even had a brilliant lesson.

  He could really see himself passing his test and driving his car wherever the mood took him. The beaches of Swansea Bay and Gower beckoned. Maybe he could take up surfing! He precluded himself picturing his pasty body in trunks and instead imagined a flattering wet-suit.

  After his day of achievements, he deserved the curry with half chips/ half rice and sparkling wine on special offer. Sated and slightly merry, he almost found the courage to approach a pretty girl he spotted sitting at another table. One of his classmates also enjoying the curry with half chips/ half rice and lager instead of wine egged him on. But his positive outlook didn’t quite stretch to being adroit with the opposite sex. And he didn’t want his high to plummet dismally when he was inevitably shot down in flames.

  But in just a few weeks he could be driving, offering lifts and trips to Gower to bikini-clad babes and… he rested his musings before they overwhelmed him.

  He raised his glass of bubbly.

  “Here’s to a great year!” he proclaimed.

  “You’re a bit late, Neil, but yeah, here’s to a happy 2019!” his friend added.

  When the effects from the wine wore off, he chose not to top up his tipsiness in accordance with his new attitude as a star student. He wanted tomorrow to be as satisfactory as today, which meant not waking up late with a hangover.

  Instead, he topped up his good mood with a game of darts which he lost. Lack of height gave him a disadvantage, he excused. And when he was defeated playing pool, his shortness took the blame again, or rather his corresponding lack of arm-span for holding the cue.


  He’d lived with these trials for a long time and they didn’t bother him much. It dented his confidence, but he believed his mum when she told him what was on the inside counted more, and that the right girl would be out there somewhere. She should know. She’d married his dad, a much older, bespectacled and more follically challenged version of himself.

  Granted, he exuded an assurance Neil didn’t yet possess. But that was probably because he’d found the love of his life in Carole and was respected in his work. Both accomplishments Neil was happy to wait for. A girlfriend would be great, but could distract him from his studies and so ruin his job prospects. So for now, he’d be content as he was.

  When the pub closed its doors at midnight, a momentary pang of anxiety knotted in Neil’s stomach, before he remembered it was all okay back at the house now. He laughed and walked up the hill with a spring in his step, knowing nothing could spoil this wonderful mood.

  He could see the lamppost outside number twenty-four, one of a few that still worked on Rhondda Street; his beacon in the dark night. Nearly there, he thought, stepping from the glow of one streetlight into the next. And then he reached within a few feet of the last lamp that signified home.

  As soon as the ambient light greeted his slight build from the shadow cast by the faulty lamp flanking it, he stopped, a shudder of dread shaking him from his reverie. There was that feeling again! That weird feeling that had bothered him in the house for months.

  A revolting smell assaulted his nostrils. Noticing the pool of vomit on the pavement and staining the lamppost, he cursed whoever had sullied his path. But it offered a fortunate effect. Where he’d been reluctant to go back into the house, reminded of the horror he’d felt; his priority now was to get inside quickly, away from the awful stench.

  As soon as he reached the top step he felt better. By the time he’d stepped indoors and closed the door, the feeling was already becoming a distant memory. Just a moment of fear because he couldn’t believe his luck, he rationalised.

  “Come on Neil. Just enjoy the new positive you. Don’t spoil it!” And with that, he got into his comfy penguin onesie and hopped into bed.

  Elin saw him coming up the street. She didn’t expect much, but when he got closer, it seemed he sensed her. Calling out ‘hello,’ as before, he appeared to react, but then he smelled the vomit and the moment was lost. Damn!

  Optimistic cogs cranked out positivity as they were pre-programmed to do. He was another hope, just not for tonight. Anyone who came close enough was fair game. She had nothing else to do. But these two, the girl and the small lad had to be her best bet.

  Boredom was an alien concept to Elin. Even from her crib she had entertained herself. Whilst ‘I’m bored’ was a cry never far from Alis’s lips, Elin was sure she had never uttered the words. There was always so much to do. A mountain to climb, a woodland camp to be made, a good book to read on a quiet beach.

  But she had to concede that rather than being a quality she possessed, her ability to entertain herself had been largely attributed to her blessed surroundings. Imprisoned in this twenty foot diameter circle, she was struggling not to go mad.

  “I’ll be out of here soon. My body will be well looked after. Everyone’s mission back home will be to wake me. And I’m sure I’ll get these guys to help me soon. Tomorrow. I bet I can be free from here then.” Doubts surfaced and were batted away by insatiable positivity.

  Now she had time to herself. A rare commodity in this busy world. And, she could fly. Hindered by her ring of light, it could still be fun. When else would she get to do this?

  Swooping round the light like a giant moth. Soaring in the light, nightie flowing out behind her, springing back whenever she reached the extremities of the dispersing light like a recoiling magnet. Convinced it was temporary, Elin enjoyed herself, laughing maniacally in the still night.

  There was a lesson here. Enjoying the moment, not dwelling on her plight. She remembered a Buddhist story she’d read somewhere of a hunted monk, who trapped on a sheer cliff, paused to eat a delicious strawberry. As he ate, he noticed a concealed cave where he hid from his pursuers. Elin’s strawberry was the fun she’d found. But she didn’t find a hiding place. She found something else.

  If she travelled from one extremity to the other, she was able to gather enough speed to move slightly further with the momentum. The glow almost reached the house. If she reached out as far as she could, stretching her arms, it might be possible to touch it.

  They wouldn’t be able to ignore her tapping on the window, would they? Not if she did so constantly! Her heart fluttered with excitement. This could be her ticket back to normality; back to her body.

  She flew back and fore, gaining speed with every turn. Reaching outstretched fingers, she couldn’t quite touch, but the next time she was closer.

  Her heart skipped as she was so close she was sure she’d make it on the next pass. Whoosh. At improbable speed, she achieved the merest brush against the glass before catapulting back on the elastic light. And then, the faintest tap. She had touched the house. It felt so good. A giant leap back to reality.

  She had refused her apprehension that her physical communion with the house might have been lost to the exorcism, and she’d been rewarded. It felt as real and as tangible as anything she had ever touched.

  Suddenly, in response to the glancing stroke, the curtains at the bedroom window flew open. “Yes!” It had worked already. A proud grin parted Elin’s granite face, her eyes glowing with the force of her being.

  A face appeared at the glass shielded from the light with framing hands. Elin tore towards it. “Hello! Please help me!” she cried. Eyes widened and the face shot back. The curtains ripped closed faster than they’d opened, the tops fiddled with to obscure any chance of the outside penetrating the room.

  That could have gone better, Elin supposed. But, she was still buoyed by the interaction. “It might take a night or two, but I know I’ll make contact.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Matthew hadn’t left the house today. Seeing the girl during the exorcism had spooked him badly. He’d been awake all night but that was nothing new. A frequent night-owl, he would stay up playing ‘X-box Live’ with people in different time-zones and often lost track of when he should go to bed.

  Last night was not one of fun with cyber-friends. He couldn’t relax and had lain awake, chewing at his already non-existent fingernails. From his Doctor Who Tardis Fridge he’d pulled out a cold lager. After seven cans, he finally attained some relief from his anxiety and drifted into uneasy inertia.

  Jumping awake throughout the night, he’d numbed his brain with yet more lager. When he woke again near lunchtime, it was with the inevitable throbbing head and dry mouth. He had to get a drink of water, but he couldn’t face going downstairs. He knew it was because he was afraid, but he excused himself as being too fragile to tackle the stairs. Instead, he ventured next door to the front shower room and glugged his fill from the tap.

  He hoped he wouldn’t get sick from the bathroom water. A notice declared it unsafe to drink, but today wasn’t the first time Matthew had succumbed to laziness.

  He staggered to his room and got back into bed. Sometime in the afternoon he realised he felt better. Something about the daylight calmed his spirit. He didn’t venture downstairs. Instead he switched on his X-box and got comfy.

  He whiled away hours, getting his nutrition from half a dozen bags of Red-Hot Doritos and a giant bar of hazelnut chocolate. Snacking and gaming proved a great distraction. When fatigue forced him to remove his ear-crushing headphones, it was pitch black in his room.

  He leaned back in his office chair and yawned. A gust of wind blew branches against the house, the tap-tap on the glass making him jump. With racing heart, he took a few deep breaths but a flickering from the window began to irritate him. Is the bulb going in the street light, he wondered? He staggered across the dark of his room guided only by the disturbing flicker of light coming thr
ough a gap in his curtains.

  He was breathless by the time he reached the window, having trodden on a couple of empty cans and tripped over a damp towel. When he drew back the curtains to investigate the dodgy bulb, his heart stopped.

  Tears dried in his panic filled eyes as he couldn’t blink or wrench them away. His feet stumbled over themselves in his desperation to escape. Tugging at the curtains, they refused to close without a fight.

  “Come on. Come on!” he hissed.

  Running across the room, almost breaking his ankle in the process, he leaned against the wall, staring at the covered window, his hands impulsively searching the wall for an escape route.

  How he wished he had expensive, lined curtains instead of the worn out dishcloths that presumed to do the job in his tatty digs. If only he’d invested in black-out blinds as he’d considered many times, he wouldn’t be faced with the horror of the ghostly silhouette overwhelming him now.

  “No, no, no,” he repeated over and over, hitting his head with his palms. Still he stared at the window, the apparition whizzed past every few seconds, tormenting him to the edge of insanity.

  He longed for the days when he had believed it all to be ridiculous, just the others’ foolish imaginations. But since seeing her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And now he knew she hadn’t gone like the priest had assured. She was here to torment him. Why else would she fly outside his window?

  Another tap-tapping on the glass made him shriek in anguish. He sank down to the floor, his eyes refusing to be prized from the window. With his arms wrapped around his knees, he cowered, rocking back and forth. “Please go away. Please leave me alone. Please. Please. Please.”

  As soon as the first light of morning breached the curtains and the blankets Matthew had pulled over his head, he phoned his dad to collect him. He couldn’t stay another night in this house.