Promised Land Lane

by Brown, Marcus

“I demand to know who or what you are.” He made the sign of the cross still clutching at the handkerchief.

  She swayed on the spot. “Your questions are of no importance to me, Father O’Brien.”

  The priest gasped. “You know my name. How is that possible?”

  “I know everything I need to know.” Maisie sneered at him.

  “Who are you?” he asked again.

  “I am nobody.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “What I am, your Bible will never teach you, Priest.”

  “Then please tell me. If I’ve never heard of you why should I be afraid?”

  She let out a stream of giggles.

  “Why does that amuse you, my child?”

  “Your arrogance amuses me, Priest, and I am not your child.” The tone in Maisie’s voice was hostile. David watched the exchange, clearly terrified of what was to come. “Father, do not torment her. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”

  Once again, Maisie paid him no attention.

  The priest held his arms wide. “Forgive me if you perceive my faith to be arrogance, but I believe there is good in all of God’s creatures.”

  “I’m no creature of God, and you would do well to remember that,” Maisie spat the words at him.

  “Then what are you?”

  “I am me.”

  “But who is ‘me,’ child? Tell me please. I demand to know. Tell me and I’ll help you.”

  She moved again, sniffing the air, well aware that David was powerless to help the Priest whilst he was in her domain.

  “Why do you sniff the air in such a way, my child?”

  “I like to smell what I eat.” Maisie giggled.

  David stepped forward. “Maisie, you musn’t harm him. He doesn’t know what he is doing.”

  She giggled again and sniffed the air, turning her head in David’s direction.

  “It’s so sweet that you still think of me as the little girl you failed, David.”

  Chills ran down David’s spine as she spoke directly to him for the first time in a hundred years.

  “My God, Maisie.” David felt sheer terror.

  “Do you really believe I don’t know who you are, David? That I would so easily forget?” Maisie pointed at him. “Time means nothing to me. Tell me now. What bargain did you make with your God so that you could remain here and watch over me in vain?”

  “I made the only choice I could, Maisie. I love you and came back to protect you and to stop you from harming the innocent.”

  “You love me?”

  “Yes, I did then and I do now. You can’t help what you’ve become.”

  “How touching that is, but I have no need for your love or protection.” Maisie sounded disgusted by David’s declaration.

  “That may be, but the innocent do.”

  “Then tell me, how are you to protect this innocent soul?” Maisie whispered the words as she quickly turned towards Father O’Brien and without hesitation swung a jagged piece of rock tearing a hole in his throat.

  The priest fell to the floor and grabbed his throat, as David rushed forward. But he was too late to help Father O’Brien. There was nothing he could do as he watched the priest’s blood flow into the trickles of water.

  Maisie giggled again as she wrapped the priest’s hair in her hands and slowly dragged his dying body away with ease. She sniffed the air twice before turning back to David smiling.

  “Dinner time,” Maisie whispered as she bent down over Father O’Brien’s lifeless body.

  Chapter 22

  Sandra sat there in silence as David finished his story.

  “All those years she remembered and never spoke to you?”

  “Yes. She knew exactly who I was, but that was the first and last time she has acknowledged me in such manner.”

  “Have you tried talking to her since?”

  “I’ve tried countless times. But she won’t answer me. I know she hears me and sometimes, she looks in my direction and smiles, but not the way she used to,” he said sadly. “It feels like she is trying to torment me.”

  “You keep saying Maisie sniffs the air. Your diary said her mother did the same thing?”

  David looked at her with a puzzled expression. “My diary.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sandra felt ashamed. “My friend has your diary and gave it to me to read. I needed answers.” She hadn’t meant to tell David she had read the diary.

  “It matters little that you have read my journal. I’m simply surprised it still exists.”

  Sandra lowered her head.

  “It doesn’t require any further explanation. The journal is no longer my property, but to return to the point in question… she sniffs the air for the same reason her mother did.”

  “Why did her mother sniff the air if she could see?”

  “Usually to find Maisie. She was a wilful child and would hide, but Samantha could always find her. You’ve read my journal so you know I witnessed it many times.”

  “But why does Maisie do it?”

  “To find someone. You should remember the only time, Maisie, can see is through the eyes of that doll.”

  “I know that, but I think I’m missing the point.”

  “Sandra, Maisie is blind when the doll’s eyes are closed so will use whatever methods are at her disposal. She sees only what the doll sees and if you’re holding the doll when she wakes, she will find you straight away. If the eyes are closed she will sniff the air so she knows where to find you.”

  “Jesus Christ. Hils will shit a brick when I tell her all of this later.”

  “A strange choice of words,’ he said, looking puzzled. “Although your friend is safer than you are, you must never bring her back to this forsaken place.”

  ‘Sorry. It simply means she will be surprised.”

  “Yes, I guessed as much.” David smiled.

  “Hils, doesn’t know I’m here. She told me she’d come back with me, but I couldn’t put her through it again. She had nightmares after our last visit.”

  “What are you going to do with the information you’re collecting, Sandra? You came back to find out what happened to your sister and you know what became of her now, so why do you insist on returning when you know the dangers that await you here?”

  “I don’t know why I come back,” Sandra lied. “But there is a part of me that feels close to Sarah here.”

  “Sarah is no longer here and is safe in the arms of our Lord. You must believe that. I watched her soul rise from her body. Maisie cannot keep the souls bound to her, as hard as she tries.”

  Sandra sat in silence then looked at her watch.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit, I’m late,” she shouted, jumping up.

  “Sandra?”

  “I have a meeting with my boss. I have to go or I’ll lose my job, but right now that might not be a bad thing.”

  “Take care of yourself,” he said, tenderly touching her face. “And stay away.”

  “David, we both know that’s not going to happen.”

  He shrugged.

  “I have to go,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Until tomorrow.” Sandra turned around and watched him wave goodbye then dashed off.

  Shooting past the side of the house, Sandra peered around the corner to check the coast was clear, and

  she launched herself through the gate towards the car.

  After breaking the speed limit, she screeched into the car park, jumped out of her car and ran towards the elevator, hitting the button for the eleventh floor.

  The doors opened and Sandra flew across the open plan office. She could see Rachel through the glass walls, sat at her desk, tapping at her watch.

  Knocking loudly on the door she heard the familiar screech, “Enter, lovely!”

  “Sorry I’m late, but I just got back from the lane.”

  “This better be good because I’m getting shit thrown at me from the top floor and we all know how shit rolls downhill.”

 
“Oh, it is. I’m not sure you can actually print any of what I tell you as people will think we’ve been taken over by The Enquirer, but this is what I know so far…”

  Rachel sat open-mouthed, almost salivating from the juicy information Sandra was providing her with.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re telling me that there really has been a man living in the garden all of this time.”

  “Yes, he really does exist. His name is David Price.”

  “Well fuck me sideways. I always thought he was made up.”

  “No, he really does exist.”

  “And he lives in that house?” Rachel sounded intrigued and leant forward in her chair.

  “Well, not exactly no. If I’m honest, I think he may actually live down the well.”

  “Well that’s a story in itself, lovely.” Rachel clasped her hands together and looked maniacal as she smiled. “A grown man living down a well. I guess that solves the mystery of the haunted house. Not so haunted after, all is it? Bugger it… but a human-interest story is better than a kick in the teeth,” she said. “I can just imagine the headlines for the Sunday edition.”

  “Sorry, Rachel, I know it wasn’t what you were hoping for.”

  “Are you kidding me? Some weirdo living in a well kills a kid and my reporter solves the crime. We’ll sell millions when we run this story.”

  “You can’t be serious, Rachel? I never said anything about him killing anyone.”

  “As serious as a heart attack. I’m going to run this story. Tell me you got pictures of him.”

  “Well funnily enough, he wasn’t overly keen on a photo shoot,” Sandra replied sarcastically.

  “Well that doesn’t matter at this point. I’ll send Darren when he’s back from his holiday tomorrow and he can get some pics of the place.” She paused for a moment. “You say he actually lives down the well? I better tell Darren to take a bloody wet suit with him,” she said, a smile creeping across her fat face.

  “No!’ Sandra shouted. ‘You’re just wasting your time sending anyone there.”

  “I think you’ll find the only person who has wasted my time is you,” Rachel snapped. “How do you know this David person wasn’t responsible for your sister’s disappearance?”

  Sandra had to think quickly. Her story was crumbling around her. “My sister ran away, Rachel. I just never wanted to admit it before.”

  “Bollocks! We both know that isn’t true. The police searched for her and found no trace. Do you really think I didn’t do some digging myself?”

  “It’s true. I just didn’t want to believe Sarah would run away and leave me behind.” Sandra thought of her parents -– the late nights waiting up for Sarah to come home. It had taken years for her parents to come to terms with the fact their daughter wouldn’t return, but every year, on the anniversary of her disappearance, they meet and look through the old photograph albums and remember what Sarah was like, and think about what she may have become.

  “Something isn’t adding up here. You know more than you’re letting on, but don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of it, and if I find out you’re holding anything back you’re out of a job.” Rachel pointed directly at her and Sandra knew it wasn’t an idle threat.

  “Rachel, please don’t send anybody to that house. I’ve gone there day after day and found nothing, but a strange man living down a well. It’s hardly newsworthy. He’s been disturbed enough – we should leave him alone.” Sandra was scared as the story she had concocted was beginning to backfire on her.

  “You claim there’s a man called David Price living down the well in a property where people have either disappeared, been murdered or attacked. This man has the same name as somebody who lived on the lane over a hundred years ago – yes, I’ve done my own research, and you tell me it’s not newsworthy. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You’re too close to it - I should have seen that. I’m taking you off the story.”

  “But, Rachel.”

  “But nothing, Sandra. I have a lot to do this afternoon before I head home. Please leave.”

  “But.”

  “Out. Now!” she barked as she picked up her phone. “Darling, it’s me. Be at home for six. We have something to do and it’s not what you think.” She cooed into the handset.

  Sandra stormed out of the office.

  Chapter 23

  Rachel was sitting at the breakfast bar in her spacious kitchen tapping her watch again. She hated to be kept waiting, especially by a man.

  Ten minutes later, Dean casually strolled into the kitchen without an apology and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I said six o’clock, Dean. Not ten past, not ten to, but six o’clock on the dot.” Rachel was extremely pissed off.

  “Rach, it’s only ten minutes,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “What’s the bloody problem?”

  “I’ll tell you what the bloody problem is. Sandra bloody Miller is the problem. That sneaky bitch is treating me like an idiot and nobody gets away with that, especially her.” The anger was building up inside her.

  Dean rolled his eyes. “What’s your thing with this woman? She’s all you ever go on about. If I didn’t know you were cock mad, I’d swear you fancied her.” Dean sniggered.

  “My thing, as you so charmingly put it, with this woman is purely business related. You know me well enough by now - if I’m going to get shafted, it’ll be in the bedroom and not the boardroom.”

  Rachel wasn’t naïve and knew what Dean thought of her. She knew the only appeal was the amount of cash she shoved into his pockets on a regular basis, but if she was honest with herself, she was only interested in him for the way he looked. Dean was twenty-four years old, a body sculpted to perfection, dark hair, green eyes and a cock most men would be envious of. He looked good on her arm and, besides all that, she could afford to keep him whilst she was being entertained.

  “So, come on then, what was the big rush for me to get home at six o’clock on the dot?” Rachel wasn’t happy with his attitude.

  “Have you ever heard of Promised Land Lane?”

  “That creepy place by the old causeway?” Dean replied.

  “It’s good to know you’re not as dumb as you make out, Dean.”

  “What about it? Everybody’s heard about that place. A kid was killed there not long ago.”.

  “Well, that house is my latest story. Sandra Miller’s sister went missing there years ago and I stupidly thought that if I gave her the story, she’d break it wide open.”

  “I don’t remember reading about that.”

  “Well, probably because it happened before you were even out of nappies.”

  “Oh.” Dean sounded disinterested.

  “Are we on the same page now?” Rachel said irritably.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Now we’ve cleared that up,” Rachel said definitively. “I had my IT guy give me access to Sandra’s office computer and it revealed a lot of information that sneaky bitch is trying to hide, so you and I are going to take a trip to the lane tonight to do some snooping for ourselves.”

  “Are you fucking crazy? I’m not going near the place, Rachel.”

  “I think you’ll find that I’m the one in charge of this little operation, and if I say you’re going then trust me, you’re going.” As far as Rachel was concerned, this wasn’t up for debate.

  “Then find somebody else to be part of your operation as nothing would convince me to go there. For fuck’s sake, Rachel, a kid was murdered there and you want to go and snoop around the place. You might not value your own safety, but I value mine. Forget it!” Dean walked towards the kitchen door as though he were about to leave.

  ‘Well then sweetie, I’ll have to re-think our little arrangement.” She smiled, knowing she had hit the mark.

  Dean stopped in his tracks and walked back towards Rachel. “Come on, Rach, there’s no need for us to fall out over it,” he said trying to get her back onside. “I’m not just thinking of my safety, but yours as well.”


  “Don’t bullshit me, Dean. You’re thinking of yourself, just like you always do. Admit it, you’re scared shitless!”

  “Well yeah, I am scared. Creeping around that place is fucked up.”

  “Not as fucked up as you’ll be if you don’t do as I ask.” Rachel wasn’t used to arguing with people.

  “You might be used to snapping your fingers in the office and making people do what you want, but I’m not doing it.” Dean sounded pissed off.

  Rachel didn’t have time to be tactful. She walked over to Dean and grabbed his private parts and stared straight into his eyes. “Whilst you’re on my payroll, you’ll do as you’re told,” she said threateningly.

  Dean tried to back away from her but, Rachel now had a firm grip. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Erm, no. What made you think you would have?” she said, feeling victorious.

  ***

  Rachel’s silver Mercedes-Benz pulled up at the lane as Ray the security guard was leaving. She got out of the car and walked straight toward him.

  “All clear?” she asked the guard.

  “Yes, all clear, but like I said to you on the phone, I didn’t want you to come until I’d left.” The old man looked nervous.

  “Oh, bollocks to all that malarky!” Rachel dismissed his comments and reached into her handbag, pulling out a roll of twenty pound notes. She grabbed Ray’s hand and pushed the money into it.

  “I don’t want any comeback. I need this job,” Ray said quickly shoving the money into his pocket.

  “And like I told you earlier on, nobody will care. I just want to get in there and have a look around. Something’s going on here and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.”

  “I don’t know who you are and why you’re so interested in this place, but terrible things have happened. There’s something evil here, you do know that, right?”

  “I think that’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you?” Rachel had little patience for the old man or his stories.

  “I’ve worked here since Mrs Gallagher left. God rest her soul. People come here and they’re never seen again. Even I’m not allowed to be on the premises after the sun goes down. Mrs Gallagher’s orders and she still pays my wages.”