The Horror of Briarwych Church

by Amy Cross

“The church, I mean,” she continues. “And the cemetery, too. It's very old and it's been abandoned for a long time, and it's not particularly safe. So if you do go out exploring tomorrow, please steer clear of the church, okay?” She pauses, watching me as if she's keen for me to tell her that I understand. “Okay, Kerry?”

  “Are you worried some bits of stone are gonna fall off the roof and brain me?” I ask.

  “There's really nothing there except overgrown weeds and loose brickwork and silence,” she replies. “It's very boring, so please just promise me that you won't go into the cemetery or near the church. Do we have a deal?”

  “What if I just want to take a look?” I ask, feeling as if she's warning me off the place.

  “There really is so much to do here in Briarwych,” she continues. “If you like, we can go to the corner-shop and see what art supplies they have. I doubt it's a very good selection, but they should at least have some pens and drawing pads. That's something to be getting on with, isn't it?”

  “I'm alright,” I reply. “Like I said, I'm just gonna chill tomorrow. But you guys should seriously think about getting some new channels on your telly, 'cause you've only got, like, twenty or something. That's mental.”

  “I'll look into it.”

  I pause, before turning and making my way up the stairs. Caroline says goodnight as I go, but by the time I'm at the top I figure she wouldn't even hear me if I replied. I don't really want to see her again until breakfast in the morning, and I might even skip that. During our little meeting about the house rules earlier, she told us what time breakfast's going to be served, but it kind of went in one ear and out the other. As I head to my room, I figure that tomorrow I'm just going to sleep in. The more I sleep, the faster this month is going to pass.

  Stopping at the door, I realize I can hear voices coming from one of the other rooms. I hesitate, before going over and looking into what turns out to be some kind of makeshift office. To my surprise, Brian Neill and Mark are looking at some stupid toy cars.

  “Oh hey, Kerry,” Brian says when he spots me, “please, come in. I was just showing Mark my rather silly collection of die-cast Formula One cars.”

  “Okay,” I reply, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Whatever keeps you happy.”

  “He's got every single car since the 1996 season,” Mark tells me. “Isn't that crazy?”

  “Crazy's not quite the word I'd use,” I say, as I look at all the different-colored little cars that are laid out on shelves lining the walls of the room. It's like being in a child's bedroom, except Brian's supposed to be a grown-ass man. “Are they worth anything?”

  “Not much,” Brian replies. “A few of them are slightly rare, but no-one's ever going to pay a lot of money for a 1996 Lavaggi Minardi.”

  “Whatever that is,” I say, putting on a big, fake smile. “Nice to see you boys are having fun, though. Don't let me disturb you.”

  Stepping back, I stop on the landing for a moment and listen as they start talking again. I can't decide whether Mark's a massive suck-up, or whether he's actually interested in Brian and his stupid collection of toy cars. Anyway, I guess it doesn't matter, because I probably won't be sticking around for long enough to have to listen to much more of their dumb chatter. Heading back to my room, I've already pretty much decided that I'll be out of here before the month's up, and after a moment I stop and look back toward the other door, and I listen again to the sound of them talking. If I could figure out which of those toy cars I can sell, I might take a few when I go back to London. That way I can get a few quid and get on my feet, and after that I won't ever need help again, not from anyone.

  After stepping into my room, I take care to push the door shut. There's no way I'm ready to go to sleep, though. Like they say, there's plenty of time to sleep when you're dead. I've got a much better idea about what to do tonight.

  Chapter Three

  Mark

  “Huh? What?”

  Suddenly realizing that something's bumping against my shoulder in the darkness, I open my eyes and turn to see a figure leaning over my bed.

  Startled, I roll onto my back, and then I realize that Kerry has snuck into my room.

  “Keep your voice down,” she whispers. “It's two in the morning and I'm going out. You want to come with?”

  “We're not allowed out in the night,” I remind her.

  “I don't recall anyone telling us that.”

  “I'm pretty sure it was implied.”

  “Who gives a shit? Anyway, we'll be back before anyone knows we're gone. Come on, I've got a really cool idea. I'm only inviting you along because I feel sorry for you.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “Where do you think?” she replies, before turning to look at the window.

  Following her gaze, I see that she must have opened the curtains before she woke me up. For a moment, all I see is darkness outside, but then I realize I can just about see the spire of the church.

  ***

  “This is stupid!” I mutter as we make our way along the steep road that winds up toward the church. “They're going to know that we left the house! I can't believe we even got out on our first night!”

  “Everyone has to sleep sometime,” she replies, sounding a little out of breath up ahead. “Anyway, it's that Caroline woman's fault, she practically dared me to come out here. Seriously, she must have known that by saying that, she was only making it definite that I'd come and poke around. If she'd just not said anything, I wouldn't even have cared about some stupid, abandoned old church.”

  “Is it really abandoned?” I ask, as she stops at the gate and I hurry to join her.

  Looking through at the cemetery, I see that the grass is massively overgrown. I can see the tops of tombstones poking out and gleaming in the moonlight, but the church itself is a little further off and for a moment I can't help but stare at the dark windows. Something about this place makes me feel even colder than I felt a few minutes ago when we crept out of the house. And as I continue to look at the windows, I can't shake the strangest feeling that somehow they're staring back at us.

  “Looks like you were right when you said nobody comes here,” Kerry says, and now I can see her breath in the cold night air. “Lucky guess, huh? By the way, have you still not checked your shoulder?”

  “Huh?”

  Reaching over my shoulder, I sigh as I find another post-it note. Taking a look, I see that it says 'Still a Wanker' in thick letters.

  “Very funny,” I mutter.

  “What's wrong, Mark? Not got a sense of humor?”

  With that, she reaches down to open the creaking old gate, only to find that a thick chain has been wrapped in place to keep it shut.

  “Seriously?” she says, sounding amused by the situation. She tries a couple more times, causing a clanging sound to ring out like a bell. “Don't these doofuses know anything about basic human psychology? The more you try to stop people going somewhere, the more they're gonna go there.”

  “Hey, stop,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling it away so she doesn't keep trying the gate. “You're going to wake someone up.”

  “Don't touch me!” she snaps, pulling away.

  “Sorry, but you were making a lot of noise!”

  “Well, I'm getting in here, whether you like it or not,” she replies, before stepping past me and then clambering over the low stone wall. “Why even bother locking the gate, when it's so easy to go in anyway?”

  “They probably trust people.”

  “Losers.”

  “Do we have to do this now?” I ask. My teeth are almost chattering. “Can't we come back in the daytime?”

  “You don't have to do anything at all,” she says, before dropping over the wall and then turning to grin at me in the moonlight. “I only invited you along because I felt sorry for you. I don't need anyone here, though, so feel free to go back to bed like a good little boy. Just don't make a noise and don't snitch on me, or I'll make you fucking regret
it, okay?”

  She turns and starts picking her way through the overgrown grass and weeds.

  I open my mouth to call after her, to tell her yet again that this is dumb, but then I realize that there's no point. She always seems determined to do the opposite of what anyone tells her, and I'm too tired and too cold to waste any more energy trying to babysit someone who's so obstinate. I watch for a moment as she continues to make her way toward the church, and then I turn to go back to the cottage. I am so not in the mood for this nonsense.

  At the last moment, however, my hand brushes against the cold cemetery wall, and I feel a sudden shudder rush through my chest. Almost as if something grabbed my shoulder, I turn and look back at Kerry as she gets closer and closer to the large, dark church. She's getting harder and harder to see as she makes her way through the overgrown grass and bushes, and I lose sight of her for a few seconds. When I manage to spot her again, she suddenly looks so small against the huge bulk of the church.

  And still those dark windows stare out at us.

  In that instant, I suddenly feel deeply, deeply scared for her, as if on some hidden level I know that something's wrong. I can't shake the overwhelming sense that somehow there's something waiting in there, that Kerry's bumbling straight toward something she doesn't understand.

  “Hey, come back!” I call out, barely managing to raise my voice. She's too far away, though, so I know I only have one option. “Damn it, Kerry!”

  Even though I just want to get out of here, I climb over the wall and drop down the other side. As soon as I've crossed the threshold of the cemetery, my sense of dread increases massively, and I swear I can feel something pressing on my chest. The tall grass is rustling all around me in a gentle wind, and I have to peer past several leaning old gravestones before I'm able to spot Kerry approaching the side of the church. She makes her way past one of the windows, and I can feel the presence of something staring out at her. Watching her.

  Waiting.

  “Stop!” I shout, as loud as I dare, and then I start hurrying after her.

  With each step, the fear in my chest gets tighter and tighter, and I feel a sense of pure panic starting to fill my body. I've never felt like this before, but it's as if somehow the panic is being poured into me as I force my way through the overgrown cemetery, and after a moment I start trying to run. Thick brambles get in the way of my feet, causing me to stumble a couple of times, and there's a part of me that desperately wants to just turn around and go back to the safety of the wall. At the same time, I can't shake the feeling that Kerry's in danger, and I force myself to keep going faster and faster until, finally, I stumble out from the undergrowth and find myself on an uneven old stone path that seems to run around the perimeter of the church building.

  I stop and listen, but at first I hear only the rustle of the wind in the grass.

  A moment later I look over at one of the nearby windows. The church itself is mostly gray, but the window is jet-black and I realize after a few seconds that I'm getting colder and colder. I can't stop looking, however, and I feel as if I've been fixed in place by a gaze.

  “Damn it!” Kerry says suddenly.

  I turn, and at first I don't see her. Then, spotting what looks like an arched section around the church's side, I hurry over and find Kerry down on her knees in front of a large wooden door, fiddling with the lock.

  “Let me guess,” I say, seeing my own breath in the air as I speak, “you just happen to be an expert lock-picker, don't you?”

  “I can get around,” she replies, “but -”

  Suddenly she gasps as her hands slip from the lock. To my surprise, I see that she's holding a knife.

  “Did you steal that from the Neills' kitchen?” I ask.

  “Oh, fuck off,” she says, trying again with the knife. “No-one forced you to come out here. In fact, I didn't want you to come in the first place.”

  “Then why did you wake me up and ask me if I wanted to join you?”

  “I told you, I felt sorry for you.”

  Rubbing my arms in an attempt to keep warm, I step closer and see that she's trying to slide the knife's blade into a slot between the doorway and the lock. Looking up for a moment, I can just about make out one edge of the spire rising high into the night sky, picked out by a line of moonlight. When I look back at Kerry, I can't help but notice that she looks so small as she remains on her knees in front of that huge wooden door.

  “That's one big-ass lock,” I point out. “Someone really didn't want anyone getting into this church.” I peer closer. “It looks kinda modern, too, like someone updated it.”

  “Is there any chance you can actually be of practical help?” she asks, still struggling with the blade. “I don't need someone standing around, pointing out the obvious.”

  “You're never going to get that open,” I tell her. “It looks like you'd need a bolt-cutter.”

  “Everything can be broken into,” she replies, but then after a moment she sighs, gets to her feet and takes a step back. “You just have to be inventive.”

  “That door looks impregnable,” I reply, as we stand and stare at the huge metal contraption that's been fixed in place. “No offense, but you'd have better luck trying to cut through the wood of the door itself.”

  “I know,” she says, before suddenly turning and walking away, “but thanks for the insight, Einstein.”

  “So we're going home now, right?” I ask, following her, only to find that she's heading around to the next side of the building. “If there's another door, I'm sure it'll be just as secure.”

  “There isn't another door, I already checked.”

  She reaches down and picks up a rock from the ground, and then she takes off her jacket as she heads over to one of the windows.

  “You can't do that!” I hiss, hurrying after her. “Are you insane?”

  She puts her jacket against the window, which contains lots of little squares of glass held in place between part of some kind of metal lattice. Each pane is barely five or six inches wide.

  “And what are you going to do after you've broken some glass?” I ask. “It's not like you can -”

  Before I'm able to finish, she slams her elbow against part of the jacket, and I hear a dull thud.

  “This is vandalism,” I point out with a sigh. “If you get caught, they'll throw the book at you. I don't know much about you, Kerry, but I really don't think this is your first -”

  She hits the jacket again, still trying to break the glass on the other side, but again the only sound is a faint thud that sounds pretty impotent.

  “It's probably really thick,” I add, “and, like, hundreds of years old. You're never going to -”

  I flinch as she tries again, this time using her clenched right fist. Even she should be able to tell that she's wasting her time, and sure enough a moment later she steps back, drops the rock, and starts slipping back into her jacket. Then she steps forward and cups her hands around her eyes, trying to look through the glass and see into the church.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “Well what?”

  “Well, do you see anything?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “I thought you didn't care?”

  “What do you see, Kerry?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I'm out here with you, aren't I?” I reply with a sigh.

  “I'll tell you exactly what I see,” she says, before taking another step back and turning to me. “Fuck all. It's way too dark in there. Loser.”

  “I guess it's not your night,” I tell her, while rubbing my arms again for warmth. “Is there anything else you want to try before we go back to the cottage? Climb up the side of the building and try to get in through the bell-tower, maybe?”

  She turns and looks up toward the spire.

  “I was joking,” I add, just in case she gets any bright ideas.

  “I'm going to get into this place,” she says, sounding absolutely determined
. “Even if I have to nick some heavy machinery from somewhere, I'm getting inside. No-one has the right to keep Kerry Lawrence out of anywhere.”

  “Why do you even care?” I ask. “You don't strike me as the church-going type.”

  “You should have heard Caroline telling me to stay away from this place,” she replies, “like I'm some kind of child. And that lock on the door, what's that all about? People don't want me going in, and that's enough of a reason. I want to see inside this place for myself, and I'm not letting anyone stop me.”

  Crouching down, she reaches into the undergrowth, and then she pulls out something that glints slightly in the moonlight.

  “Cool,” she says, standing and showing me a small silver crucifix. “I bet someone misses this. Do you reckon it's worth anything?”

  She slips it into her pocket.

  “No-one ever stops me doing anything,” she adds. “Sometimes they try, but I always show them that they can't.”

  Turning, she stomps past me and heads back the way we came.

  “So you're just trying to get into the church to prove a point?” I call after her. “Isn't that kinda childish?”

  I wait, before she disappears around the corner and I sigh as I realize that at least she seems to have given up for tonight. I look around, still feeling that sense of absolute dread, and then I glance at the window that Kerry tried to break. For a moment, staring at the glass squares, I once again get that feeling that somehow I'm being watched. I know that's nuts, of course, but the sensation grows until I force myself to turn and walk away, hurrying after Kerry. I just want to get back to the cottage, go to sleep, and wake up for that full English breakfast that Caroline promised would be ready at eight in the morning. Man, I'm so -

  Stopping suddenly as I go around the corner, I see that Kerry's standing a little way ahead, staring at the church's big wooden door.

  “Come on,” I say as I head over to join her, “let's -”

  And then I stop again, as I see that the wooden door is now wide open, revealing the pure pitch darkness of the church's interior.