by Jim Ody
“Aye. Yer be careful, lad.”
“I will,” he replied and then walked over to Fiona.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
Will sat down and opened the crisps. Bloody ready salted. Did anyone like ready salted?
“I asked them about the camp. They weren’t that happy with the place. They were saying it brought in yobs!” Will hated lying to Fiona.
“Like us!”
“Just like us!” They shared a smile, but silence crept up upon them.
Will had zero experience with ghosts. He’d dismissed them at every chance, assuming them to be born of active imaginations of the naïve. But he couldn’t explain it. No matter how the cogs of his mind turned, logic defied what had happened. He could’ve put it down the stresses of his life (to the episode earlier). It would be a stretch, but compared to the alternative, it seemed more likely.
But then to have a stranger describe something he thought his mind had concocted had chilled his bones.
Then he had a thought. What if, he’d read about it in the paper? Or rather come across the gruesome story on the internet? Could his mind have conjured up that apparition? Momentarily, he felt a wash of relief. He was drawn to a lot of macabre.
Until he remembered the song. Fiona had heard it too. That radio had definitely played it.
Could it be set up? Like an alarm? A hidden mobile – the song as it’s ringtone. Somebodies idea of a sick joke?
Again, he was relieved. It was a prank. The barman was probably in on it. The locals scaring off the outsiders.
“Earth calling Will?” Fiona said.
He turned to her a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I’m tired and hungry, I think.”
“Really?” she smiled and pointed to the opened, but forgotten packet of crisps.
From there, Will tried his best to forget about what he’d seen, and what the barman and Jack had confirmed. He and Fiona talked about themselves, their life and the changes that were on the horizon.
It was only when a guy with a messy moustache, and a banjo, sat down in the corner staring, that they thought it was time to move. He soon whipped out a microphone and harmonica, and that sealed the deal. This was not their idea of entertainment by a long shot.
An old sheepdog, sat at his master’s feet near the open fireplace. He looked up sadly at the guy as if knowing what was to come, and laid down with his paws as close to his ears as he could get them.
Will raised a hand to the barman as they left. Jack nodded and quickly looked away.
The fresh air tickled their hair, although the late afternoon was still relatively warm.
Fiona turned to Will. “I will always love you.”
He was going to call her Whitney Houston, but thought against it.
“I know. You’ll always be my love too.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, and sealed it with a kiss, before heading off down the hill towards the campsite.
Two lovers, deep in love.
The Tall Trees campsite was welcoming to them.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 13 - Roger
H e sat down his weary old bones in his chair and picked up his Wilbur Smith book. He opened up the thick book ready to dive into a world of adventure. If only he was younger, and not imprisoned in this old body, he’d head off into the unknown and lose himself.
But quickly, he became distracted.
Bloody kids! Larking around outside of his cabin.
He built the cabin many years ago. He was a lot younger and fitter back then. Scaling up the side, shirtless, he hung on to the side with one hand, and bashed nails in with the other – health & safety had been a phrase only seen in text books, and for those city pansies looking to get out of work. He looked down at his frail body now. Bloody old age. Absolutely nothing you can do about it now. Some days he could hardly pull himself up into a sitting position in bed, let alone clamber up something.
His wife had died ten years ago. Not that it made much difference. She was a depressing woman. There was no two ways about it, and he wasn’t going to feel guilty about that. She’d gone off sex, but took a dim view of him still having it! He couldn’t understand it.
The sex kept him young, that was what he’d always thought. And now what? The opportunities gone the way of his energy. No woman of any age was interested in the wrinkly bag of bones he’d become.
He’d even tried a prostitute a few years back. It had been a completely humiliating experience. He’d tried to woo her. Big mistake. She no more wanted wooing than she wanted to be in the same room as him. He’d began telling her stories as she’d removed her clothes, but she wasn’t even listening, or didn’t understand a word he was saying. She’d been Polish, and much too young. Twenty-something and thinking she’d come to this country for wealth, and ended up with a failed sexual liaison with an old man. Fumbling with a flaccid member that was as uninterested as she was. Like pushing a marshmallow into a keyhole. His frustration grew a lot quicker than his organ.
Unable to look her in the face, he’d paid her and left. Hobbling out into the night.
His name was Roger. He looked out of the window and saw the teenagers on the jetty. They were an overspill from the camp on the other side of the lake.
It was happening more and more often. Bored with the watchful eyes of authority over there, they’d swim, sail, or walk over to commit juvenile, or lewd acts.
He wanted to close that place down badly. He longed for something bad to happen.
The truth was, part of him was jealous. He longed to be eighteen again. When he was their age the country was still in mourning from the second world war. He’d just missed out on being drafted. What did they know about dying for your country? It was all alcohol, sex and loud music. Did they think he wanted to hear that crap blasting out?
His top lip curled into a silent growl. He wanted to go out there and hurt them. All those muscles, and lithe bodies. Why did they get to look like that when he was in a used up body that died a little more each day.
There was a sudden knock at the door. A couple of raps.
He stared at the door for a moment, debating whether or not he wanted any human contact.
Finally, he walked over and opened it up.
There was nobody there.
He stepped out. He walked around to where he had a better view of the teenagers. He stood, liver-spotted hands on his sharp hips. Catching his breath and helping to keep his balance.
Then one of the lads noticed him. At first, he raised a hand, but quickly it turned into a raised middle-finger.
“Pervert!” the lad cried out. Roger would love to see this lad in a Nazi prisoner of war camp; begging for his life. His silver spoon would be of no use then.
Instead, Roger knew he had nothing. He was about as threatening as a child nowadays.
And then he heard the giggling.
A child playing.
He turned and carefully wandered back to his cabin. He saw no one.
He closed the door and looked out the window again. God, he wished he had the balls to use his gun.
Then something smashed him in the back of his head. His vision flashed with white light.
He didn’t feel his body collapse underneath him as he hit the ground. He was out cold.
He didn’t hear the music that now played out. And he didn’t hear the sound of the saw. Nor did he feel the sharp serrated blades chew through the soft tissue of his throat. It only stopped as it hit the bones of his spine, the noise more of a high-pitched whine now.
Roger laid in a bloody bath that continued to seep even after his heart ceased to pump it out.
Little bloody footsteps ran off into the woods.
The childish giggles whispering through the branches.
No one was there to witness the final fall from grace. At least the campsite would no longer be his biggest worry.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 14 - Marshall
H e was smiling to
himself as he walked quickly up the footpath, and broke away to where his house was.
He was surprised, but Jenny looked even better in person. So innocent and slightly shy. He liked that.
He’d stared at her pictures for a while now, imagining how they would pop out into a 3D form. Of course, a couple of things were different. Her voice for one thing. It was lower than he was expecting. Nothing wrong with that, but he’d always imagined it would be up another octave. A little-girl sound to match her naivety. It was just a little thing. He could get over that. He’d have to get over that.
He scanned the garden for his mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. He really wasn’t sure what his parents did nowadays. Like him, they were all distracted with their own lives. Strangers mingling together pretending to be perfect. At times their dynamics just felt manufactured.
He walked up the stairs and guiltily scanned the rooms to see whether or not he was alone. He didn’t like surprises. And of late, he’d grown very fond of his own company.
Unless Jenny was to join him.
Then they could both be alone.
He shut the door behind him, and turned the key in the lock. His parents hated him locking it, but he’d pretend he’d not realised. His mum would eat up his lie like cookie crumbs. He could do no wrong in her eyes. His father would glance away, unable to hide the further disappointment he had for his son.
His dad was an arsehole. That sounded mean, but he knew he’d never live up to his dad’s expectations.
His dad, he figured, was going through some mid-life crisis. He was desperate to hang on to his forties, even though his fifties were grabbing him with everything they had. Marshall half expected his dad to buy a convertible and start sleeping with girls half his age. Although the later, was probably happening already. He had his suspicions – even if his mum was oblivious. In fact, it was how his parents had met.
Marshall grabbed his laptop, and logged in. He looked up Jenny, and found her female friends, but couldn’t find any details of the knuckleheads who were there with them. He could ask that prick Keith, the pervert would know, but the truth was, he hated him. Really hated him. It was so unfortunate that life had bonded them together. There was nothing he could do about that.
He sat back in deep thought. It was risky, he knew it, but he conceded, the chances of being caught were slim.
He logged on to the Tall Trees Camp website. He went into the admin section, and put in the username and log in, he’d written down the summer before. He hit enter.
He was in! The idiot Keith had been nervous about letting him know the password, and hadn’t thought for a second that Marshall would remember it.
He clicked on the list of guests, and set about looking up them on social media until he found them.
If there was one thing he’d learnt, it was to be prepared. Know your enemy.
The he clicked onto Spotify and loaded up some Elton John.
Marshall was familiar with about three of his songs, but he knew he had to learn more. He’d gradually turn it from him being the biggest Elton fan, to listening to one of Elton’s hits albums. He was already forming a lie about it being left to him by his nan, so held sentimental feelings. He grinned. She’d lap that up, he thought.
He didn’t even need to think too hard. The lies were constructed and filed away before he even acknowledged them. His dad’s parents had died before he was born, and his mum’s dad died when he was small, whilst his nan was in some loony-bin in Bristol.
He glanced down all of the people remembering the names. One by one he wrote them down.
Then when he was done, he laid back on his bed and pulled out the photograph from under his mattress, whilst singing along to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.
Her name was Mary. She was smiling and semi-clothed. A drunken night that had promised so much.
He traced a line over her face with his finger. Those eyes pale, and full of life.
The exact opposite to what they’d looked like the last time he’d gazed into them.
Her body, so soft against his touch. He was lost to a time when she had still been alive.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 15 - Will
T he Tall Trees campsite had a huge welcoming sign that arched over the road. The path was gravelled track that ran alongside the road, albeit the other side of some trees.
Will and Fiona held hands as they walked, and talked about the complications of their life. There was so much to discuss, that they needed this time away to go through it all.
They walked through the car park and past a small hut that looked to be the reception.
“That’s a bit odd, don’t you think?” Will commented, nodding at the hut.
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, look at that,” they turned and saw the large building ahead of them. “They have that place, and yet the reception is not there, but sat here near the water.”
Fiona made a non-committal face. She took things at face value and never bothered to analyse them like he did.
“Maybe, the staff prefer the view?”
Will nodded. That actually made a lot of sense, although in winter it must be freezing, or cost an arm and a leg to heat.
“I guess.”
There was a gentle flurry of people milling around. The water was now sparse of people, only a couple of teenagers sat on the jetty. A cloud of smoke that was probably nothing more than cigarettes plumed above. They were chilled, and not bothering anyone else.
A guy with pointy features and a white shirt with sharp ironed lines, nodded to them without feeling. They nodded back, and Will noticed the man go to the hut.
“Staff, I guess,” Will commented.
They turned back to the entrance of the building. Just inside, it split with one way leading into a large hall and bar, the other into a food area.
They turned to the doorway of the food area and again were met with another two choices: One side had a takeaway burger-style affair, and the other was a more formal seating area with booths.
A teenage girl with a huge smile greeted them.
“Hi guys! You taking away, or looking to sit down?”
Will glanced at Fiona, and then replied. “Sit down, please.”
“Great!” she said, like they’d just agreed to tip her big. “Follow me and I’ll get you seated right away.”
She was bubbly, and efficient. She actually seemed like she enjoyed working there.
There was a noisy humdrum of people, and underneath was the sound of 80’s pop music. Michael Jackson was asking whether Annie was okay, which was thoughtful of him. Will wasn’t sure he ever got an answer.
“Is this table okay for you both?” she said, the smile still just as huge as before. Will wanted to say no, it wasn’t, but instead agreed. Her smile was that infectious.
After taking the drinks order and promising to come back, she followed her smile away from them.
“This is a lot nicer than I was expecting,” Fiona said.
Will agreed. “I thought it was going to be a larger version of what you see on American horror movies set in a camp! All wooden with a huge long table running down the middle.”
“That would be funny,” Fiona said, then quickly added. “Whilst we walked away and order takeaway!”
The truth was, the large restaurant area was done out nicely. There were small booths with individual lights hanging down above them. Smiling faces were all around, and even Cyndi Lauper was admitting that girls just wanna have fun. Maybe that’s why the waitress couldn’t stop smiling.
They looked at the menu which was packed with many delights, and had just about narrowed down their choices when the happy girl returned.
Will wondered whether she was high. A teenager shouldn’t enjoy their job this much, he pondered to himself.
She winked at Will when she took his order down, and for the first time her smile narrowed in consolation at Fiona’s choice of salad. Fiona liked salad; it wasn’t a healt
h kick.
“Did she wink at you?” Fiona asked.
Will shrugged and did his best to pretend he hadn’t really noticed. “Uh, I think so.”
He placed his hand on hers as she replied, “She then looked like she felt sorry for me when she took my order.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.” Will had noticed it too. She was really self-conscious about her weight. She’d gone from diet to diet, not to mention being bombarded with Instagramers who made it their life’s ambition to always appear perfect. It also didn’t help that her sister was really skinny.
It wasn’t uncommon for her, on occasion, to turn the lights out before removing her clothing.
Then all of a sudden, from behind there was a gasp and a glass smashed onto the floor.
“Giles!” A female voice screeched in anger.
“Not my fault,” the lad was quick to say.
“Don’t just sit there, get some help!” his mother hissed at him.
“Fu’sake,” was muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Fussin’, I said.”
“Oh.” She seemed apologetic. She glanced at Will, who quickly turned back around to Fiona.
“Whoops!” she grinned, keeping her head down so the mother didn’t see.
Will felt his phone vibrate.
He wanted to look at it. He needed to look at it. But he couldn’t.
Not in front of Fiona.
“Everything okay?” She asked. They’d been together long enough for her to understand when his mask slipped.
He nodded and did his best to change the subject. “What shall we do tomorrow then? Explore the lake? Or shall we go for a drive?”
“I’ve heard there were caves around here that we could explore.” Will loved the way she enjoyed the outdoors.
Soon, the large smile on legs was back with two plates of food. And this time both had equal attention with no winks or dropped smiles.
“Enjoy!” she giggled and trotted off.
“Wow!” Fiona said looking at the large chunks of bacon and chicken in her salad. “I’m going to be too full to dance!”
“That sound’s unlikely!” Will replied and they tucked into their meals.