The Meddler

by Donna Maria McCarthy

  The

  Meddler

  By

  Donnna Maria McCarthy

  A HellBound Books Publishing LLC Book

  Houston TX

  A HellBound Books LLC

  Publication

  Copyright © 2018 by HellBound Books Publishing LLC

  All Rights Reserved

  2nd Edition

  KINDLE EDITION

  Cover and art design by

  HellBound Books Publishing LLC

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without written permission from the author

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are entirely fictitious or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  www.hellboundbookspublishing.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication –

  For my Dad - Peter Brian McCarthy 10/06/1935 - Forever

  Adventurer/ Globetrotter/ Satirical Witticist with smart quips abundant.

  Who we believe left us early to catch his Son as he fell from this world.

  For my Brother - Stephen Brian McCarthy 30/07/1962 - Forever

  British light heavyweight/ Champion of Hearts and Lost Causes

  Mum and I held you in our arms as you left this world, Stephen - We had one last cuddle

  My Brother Paul - You held Dad.

  Both of you

  Fathers/ Sons/ Grandads/ Brothers/ Uncles/ Husbands /Cousins/ Nephews/ Friends

  Beloved of

  Kathleen McCarthy - Mum to Stephen 'Did you ever know that you're my hero.'

  Juni - Soulmate to Dad

  Barry - Loving Brother and Uncle

  Peter - To my Dad who taught me to reach and to my Brother who taught me to love.

  Paul - To my Dad - My Mentor and the best human being I have ever known and to my Brother Stephen - See you in The Big Arena. I love and miss you.

  Michael - 'Simply the Best'

  Jason - 'The Phoenix'

  Sean - 'Someone to watch over me'

  Steven - I hope I can make you proud Dad - Love you forever

  Katie - What will I do without you Dad? Please watch over me.

  Donna - Dad you inspired this story and though Reuben has not an ounce of your charm or wit (was impossible to capture) I hope I have paid homage to your impossible spirit and adventurous soul.

  Stephen - My inspiration for, Malachi...

  Some angels walk among us and have dirty hands and faces - but only as they rescue the lost from the darkest of places.

  The ubiquitous Stephen Brian McCarthy

  Both of you - please watch over us from your alternative reality and catch us as we slip from this to yours.

  In Aeternum Vive - Live Forever

  Acknowledgements

  Hellbound The Epic - Who continually prove to me that there are good guys out there in the publishing world.

  Anita Waller - Who pushes me and never lets me give up

  The

  Meddler

  Babies and Children

  Lock fast your dreams

  For witches are picking at golden thread seams

  To steal from your dreams

  The magic and wonder

  That arrives with innocence

  But leaves torn asunder

  Chapter 1

  In the mysterious hours that keep watch of our dreams, where inky black veils conspire with the stars and the moon – if he be up – to caress the wings from the wisest owl to the tenacious but misguided moth, a figure as if born of the moon sat by a lake, with undefined origin as could have been man or beast. And though a luminosity highlighted all about it, still there would be much speculation as to which species it belonged, and there in was the problem.

  For it belonged to us.

  No beast of the earth could capture the attention of this Creature as we do, and its place amongst the other guardians of the night was real, if not touched by the supernatural.

  Mysticism surrounded them all of course, but was only by our creation and was to thrill on cold winter nights. To fill voids where some touched by tragedy wished for there to be more than just a heaven, wished for something more tangible. Atmospherically, you might be forgiven for thinking it purely ‘just that’ but you would be wrong and still fantastically lucky, perhaps, to have spied it. Pray then that it was only in your dreams – something you had conjured; for it belonged not to evil, an ill-educated assumption, it belonged to the in-between where there can be no laws, only those that govern your consciense. Surely a preoccupation of such as you and I? Mark then, that there is no hereafter in the in-between, no beginning and no end.

  You must then see this Creature as innocent for is only by influence, good or bad, that it can exist. A lack of conscience is more vilified than understood, but if there is more to this and less to the one deprived, then it is by our creation and perhaps you might be more careful of dreams and secret aspirations. Who do you tell them to if not to this Creature? So be sure of its presence till the earth takes you, and be sure that we are not simply governed by action.

  A human is nine parts flesh but not whole without thought – a more substantial and tactile quality than you might think… and so here is where we must begin, for it would be a very confusing affair, in fact impossible to know the exact point that this Meddler first took a dream or a wish and for good or bad nurtured it to fruition. Found sustenance in that which we toss aside every day as either impossible or unwholesome thought, and it was blessed enough to be able to realise relative success – though it might leave us reeling. Either way, the fear you feel at these points in time is very real, and so should it be; for you are aware, there can be no doubt that you indeed make offerings to something. And as your instinct told you beware your conscience, told you it was too late; wonder then that if a court were to ever scrutinise an instinct it may well take a stern view of those who disregard it.

  Chapter 2

  At times, where a delicate nature and the scholarly study of all that is good and wholesome is considered and revered above all else, those of less fragile sensibilities who paradoxically rejoice in all that is improper, may appear secretly pleasing to the eye. As was the case in Hares Folly. And though these thoughts were given up for the devil and his malevolent daily assault, some still felt impoverished and thought that even black could seem bright when a year of your life had passed with no pomp. As for those who dared introspection, they indeed questioned if in essence this was what was truly intended.

  This progressive little town that throbbed a beat of hard work on the souls of feet still had its secrets –one in particular, far from the law and goodness. A spate of ritualistic slaughters, mainly of small critters - household pets and such like - had dogged this town; had dogged its people who on the surface seemed wholesome, even puritanical, at least is what they preached.

  One woman’s clothes line had been pegged with rats guts torn from within, a full washing line. Speculation went from Weaver Smith the town’s scallywag, who survived and got credit from some circles, on the promise of other men’s purses. So adept was he that he could secure an advance on a day’s endeavour – but did he have the heart? Most thought not. Next preference was for a mystical cat, as big as a bairn born of a butcher and baker, and belonging to a witch that circled the town at night, crying from bleeding ears at the rattle of locks and bang of doors.

  Now most expected some gruesome activity, and if your dog was missing, would not be for more than a day and would be found having undergone some form of torture.

  The Reverend Bell Baker was a l
earned man, philosophy student in fact, and warned that any capable of such atrocities was for sure young, and for sure would grow worse; that when the shock waned so the atrocities would increase, saying vigilance and introspection should be applied.

  ‘Children,’ he said, ‘when born are the most angelic of all. Earthly creatures so close to the Lord that angels are chosen amongst them. Lucifer, therefore is ever present. Why, you may ask yourself, would he bother with any of us? Of course he would not and his disciples are selected from this very same nursery and am loathed to say, is those left too long after tea! A satiated child fed your softest suet pudding that is laced with liquor is not necessarily a happy and safe one. No indeed, it is at times like this - when we are at rest, that Satan is amongst us! And only education and nurture can make his attraction wane.’

  Mothers were shocked to think this and voiced it, but still he was clever at planting such seeds and his storytelling unsurpassed, so all were a little more aware and was said that if any could reach one so far gone that his tongue began to fork, was Bell Baker.

  Here then, find an ill-fated band, which appeared even bolder than a gypsy can. Even when blessed with the rich reputations that precede such tribes, for they danced on gentlemen’s tails and petticoats the same. As for those who stopped and stared they did not do so instinctively out of disdain or popular practice of despairing, it was out of awe and the sheer brilliance and wonder that filled the eye.

  A less content community then, became this small town, for too many citizens swapped morning prayers for avaricious dreams; for what they knew not, but that they were cursed was certain. It was contagious and leeched from its hosts as black ink does to copy book and so therefore, all were infected long before the first fist was raised or bible held before the accused. The sadness being that in all innocence, and out of charity, this Meddler - a creature with no singular thought itself - had been accepted amongst this group as the spirit of one lost. And that it meddled was treated as nothing more than mischief. Perhaps this was just a reflection of those who cared for it, for none of them was given to a malicious nature and had grown together as result of much persecution and political scourge.

  As old Father Kane would say, often, and as foreboding to the young ones, ‘Get to know more than your reflection, it is a trick to make you think that you spy a future full of people who think as much of you as you do yourself.’

  Though nobody’s father in truth, Kane had acquired the name through a careful watch he kept of all and a generous daily helping of borrowed wisdom that he would pillage from a rich ancestral line. He would relive his own history one day, and was not so want in mystery or tragedy but for now, and was the same amongst all; it was too soon to remember that which they wished forgot.

  He took a seat as a shepherd might, with best vantage point for spying any danger that approached, and for those he herded was a reassuring sight.

  ‘Sit! Neither fire nor feast can warm a soul who cannot feel, but a thought might?’

  Great wide, dark eyes that hungered for such things lowered expectantly, tentatively our Meddler took a seat beside Kane. Such a fragile thing was he that each breath of wind seemed to shake him. Those that knew of him said it was lucky for he that he came to be amongst them and not others, for was bad men’s dreams that furtively sought a host and travelled so to fool, such as he was.

  ‘I know you up to something Meddler, you’ve got that look of wonderment about you. You cannot hide it, you know, but we do not fear you, nay we become closer with no secrets. Who is it this time? Who has mischief in them?’ The old man nudged our Meddler, and looked into deep dark eyes that would not yield their magic, but he never tired of trying. His gaze was returned with one of bemusement,

  ‘Father, if I knew then you would.’

  ‘Ha, aye we muddle along not so badly though with none of us knowing your purpose here, but still you haven’t answered my question. Come then, I know you too well!’

  A whisper from within so full of trepidation, but not for this old man, for it was potent with all but a world of dreams could ferry. And though so delicate to look upon, he managed the appearance of one very capable of doing so, ‘The town’s folk, they know of me.’

  ‘ You told them of you Meddler! People don’t just happen upon you. We have no such magic to conjure with.’

  He leapt from where he perched, ‘Father, I am only aware of that which you teach me and I would say that you conjure just as much with them ones. It is just a different magic though still is mysterious. I can do no more harm than any of you.’ His insolence was engaging as ever and as only a Meddler could deliver, with honesty and childlike manners, for was the little ones who really held the key. It was the little ones who understood that if a dawn never comes then, your conscience remains clear and perhaps the dawn sees the death of magic, even in such as you and I.

  ‘The fact, Meddler, is that you do exist and yet you know not wrong from right! Are we not enough?’

  ‘It is not I that struggles with wrongs and rights, old man, you know this. I do recall a fascinating conversation I had with a brother once on the perpetuation of the human race - when is all but a mistake, an error where they are unable to control thought - conscious or otherwise.’

  ‘No, but must you assist them, aye? Hares Folly is not ready for you.’

  ‘How so? Yes, some are dark but isn’t that where the best treasure may be found?’

  ‘I see no reason for you to stray, Meddler. Come, I say again, are we not enough? We have accepted you as family, yes? And are an amusing lot you must agree. They say a bad man knows more restrictions than a child of barely seven and sure we have plenty of those. Heaven knows we have plenty! I am reminded to chastise Rosie, for she’s as meddlesome as you in her own way. She will not leave a girl alone enough to make up her own mind and being so blessed to look upon, it is no surprise that so many copy her and fall. Pity they do not have her luck in not being blessed with child! Or is that you, Meddler, aye? I have protected you from what others have said, that it is down to you that we have grown so in numbers. Ah, but I have no wish nor reason to scare you, it is but talk. My life, I have never come across one with such fortresses about them, I tell you Meddler, I cannot give you wisdom or a conscience so I cannot chastise you.’

  ‘I can promise you nothing, old man, but know this, a good man is equal to a bad one to me.’

  ‘Aye you cannot reason, but surely you can be bound!’

  He squealed dramatically playing up to Father Kane’s feigned despair, ‘Save me! Save me from your thoughts! Tread warily, old man else you become that which you fear.’

  ‘And you be careful that you do not lose your place here amongst us,’ but harsh words were not meant for this creature and he added, ‘I feel it is a good town though, Meddler, perhaps more full of dreamers than schemers?’

  Whatever tribulations this old man felt were shared between the two, unfortunately, for though he spoke good and kindly words, inside Kane dreaded that was what this creature actually yearned for and it almost lifted him from the earth as he danced from him. Trouble being of course, that though he remained innocent of malevolent intent, the town’s folk perhaps did not. Most did regard any extreme they felt as harmless, for as long as it remained within and as a group on the whole, none acted out their passions. A dedicated and spiritual community, if only in practise, good enough you would think. But what if your thoughts were dark and unwholesome? What if they could create chaos, mayhem - even murder? What then? What if such things as your dreams were feasted upon?

  A more exuberant Meddler then do we see, and so full of magic and mystery.

  Chapter 3

  People dreamed more than they ever actually achieved, Old Kane thought. Apparently a malady had fallen about us all. A discontentment fuelled by tales of hardship and to better your neighbour’s was really considered quite something. Piety and prudish values gave way to other extremes and each was as envious and curious of the other.

&nb
sp; ‘How so, Meddler? ‘How could any be jealous of the little we have?’ some had asked.

  It was worrisome to say the least, for was what had driven this desperate band to such places.

  ‘Well,’ Meddler explained, ‘where a person such as Nella may look upon a fine lady and sigh oh but for a soft bed and soft word to send me to sleep , the lady may respond, ‘But for her smile, this world you could keep. If either were to know how the other thought, there might be something to be had in it.’

  This was heartening, and so thankful they were of our Meddler, even if it temporary.

  He continued, ‘Each extreme took little heed of the noxious brew that came of wasted days and potent dreams. And so realms within worlds were formed; begot by nightmares and jealousy, however sweet they couched. And then became the ‘In Between.’ Intense hatred, instead of destroying, breathed life, where a steady stream of goodness and light had produced no more than a wasteland; dogged by untruths and shallow sentiment. Without depths, which are naturally born of negatives, it had no body.’ He related this fact as though any might understand, announcing it as scientific fact, saying that, ‘Each were equally fertile but yet nothing without the other.’ And would say that was here that his brothers and he found purpose, and was more than he could do to remember different.

  ‘Well, you can sleep as intended tonight!’ Kane remarked, as our Meddler wagged his finger with false promise of some mischief, and would be oddly missed for he was loved. Concern had grown where psychic ability had faded within them and paranoia, a wholly unnatural state, began to torment them, so accustomed where they to openness.