by Jim Ody
Meg walked over to Brett’s bed and picked up a pair of underpants with the tips of her thumb and forefinger.
“These clean or dirty?” she grinned. Jenny assumed she was trying to embarrass him. That seemed her number one objective throughout the evening. She was still playing hard to get, and he was still following her around panting with his tongue out like a little puppy. Or a big puppy.
“You tell me,” he grinned, looking at his mates for a laugh. “We could make it a game. Compare them to the ones I’m wearing!”
“Uh-huh, well the ones you’re wearing had better be clean or they can stay where they are!”
Jenny loved to watch Meg in action. She knew exactly what to say to keep them at arm’s length but still begging for her to tell them they could do what they wanted to her. It was such a skill.
Then she remembered Marshall, and worse still how she’d thought it was Harry―or Carl, or whatever his name was―who would be removing his underwear with her.
“Come on then,” said Max clapping his hands together. “I’m thirsty!”
One by one they bundled out of the cabin.
It was then that they saw a familiar face. The owner guy Keith, smiling and walking towards them with a torch.
He raised a hand to them. “Hey guys!” he said. “You having a party?”
Jenny felt suddenly sick. She looked to the ground and tried to skulk back behind them.
“Hey!” he said trying to catch her eye. “I’m really sorry for annoying you earlier.”
He looked genuinely sorry. He also looked different. His hair was wet and he’d changed into a hoodie.
“We’re just heading out to the fire-pit… I assume that’s okay?” Brett said. Jenny wished he’d never said anything.
“Oh, Coolio! Beer and scary stories, is that it?”
“You got it!” Brett nodded, hefting up the box of bottles.
“I know a couple of stories. I could tell them if you like?” It was so easy to feel sorry for him. He was like that needy little brother you couldn’t shake off. Ultimately harmless, but a little annoying anyway.
“Sure,” Adam said before there were any objections. “Besides, you’ve got a torch.”
“And he knows his way around here!”
Keith nodded. “You definitely don’t want to get lost out here… but I’ll tell you about that a bit later.”
Jenny found herself walking nearer to Max, and not because she wanted anything to happen. In fact, definitely not, but Keith might think they were an item and back off. But as they walked deeper into the woods and left the campsite behind, Keith seemed more interested in being one of the lads instead of anything nefarious towards her.
“Here we are,” Keith said as they got to the small circle of stones with logs around the outside.
The guys then transformed into alpha males as they collected sticks and a few bigger branches.
Brett ripped off the top of the box and along with the small bits of wood and a lighter set about starting the fire.
It took a couple of attempts before Brett looked defeated. Keith took great pleasure in stepping in and producing a lighter from his pocket. The cardboard lit quickly and eventually the twigs smoked too.
Brett passed out the bottles, and with the light from the flames dancing over their faces, that was when the stories began.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 31 - Will
W ill was beginning to feel tired out from the dancing. It had been a long time since he’d been out drinking and had hit the dancefloor so hard. It had probably been his wedding night. It had all been too much for Fiona. She had been sitting down watching him, and every now and then gave him a sneaky wink.
Will wasn’t getting any younger, and going from Cottoneye Joe to Groove Is In The Heart had left him breathless. Fiona was also looking like she needed a break.
“This has been great,” she said beaming. “But, if I’m honest, I’m ready to go back to the cottage.” She finished with a cheeky wink which took him back to the wedding day again.
“Well, what are we waiting for.”
They held hands, but it wasn’t out of a sense of duty, he was deeply in love. He’d made so many mistakes in his life when it came to romance, but maybe there was something divine about the whole thing. The everything-happens-for-a-reason, and it-makes-you-the-man-you-are-today and so forth. A number of clichés that were equally as worn out and tired as a lot of the people still shaking their money-makers.
They saw a guy trying to do the splits. He had a greased quiff like he had been transported from another era; either that or he’d lost connections with the current year. A jolly woman with a sweaty face was encouraging him, so perhaps that was another sign of love.
Outside three male teenagers stood looking cheeky. One looked at them and said, “Penny for the Guy?”
Will frowned and looked around. “Where’s ya Guy then?”
The lad looked put out like he’d been shown up. “Don’t be like that, mate. Times is hard, innit?”
“You could afford to come here for a break though, couldn’t you?”
“Parent’s paid, innit Fam?”
Will wasn’t sure whether it was a question or a statement. It wasn’t always easy to tell with youngsters of today.
“It’s also a long way off from November. Or are you unsure on how to use a calendar?”
The lad’s mates grinned, laughed at him and pointed. Will almost felt sorry for him.
“Ah-ha!” One of them began. “Fishy, got roasted!”
“Fishy? Your surname Fish, or something?”
His other mate laughed even harder. “It’s the girls, he shags, innit!”
Fiona laughed at that, and Will held up his hands. “O-kay, I don’t need to hear anymore! Good luck, Aqua Man!”
“Fishy, he’s funny, man! For an old person, innit!”
They left the lads giggling. Then they heard the line about the guy again.
“I bet you were like that once,” Fiona goaded.
“I’ve never been with a woman so bad my friends called me Fishy over!”
Fiona grabbed his arm with laughter. “Are you sure?”
“I think I’d remember!”
The noise of the venue drifted into the background as they were able to hear themselves again.
“Ah, maybe the poor girl had a problem?”
Will rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to be bothering myself over the hygiene failings of some poor girl who got jiggy with old Tom Hardy back there.”
“You know, nobody says jiggy with it, right?”
“Will Smith did. Wrote a song all about it if I remember correctly!”
“And when was that?”
“A couple of years ago or so.”
“Try 1998! Those lads weren’t even born back then!”
Will nodded, and conceded the point. “Okay, you’ve got me there!”
They followed the winding lane up the hill, and the houses of the village came into sight.
Will and Fiona were silent, but Fiona’s thumb gently rubbed against Will’s hand, and every now and then Will would lift up her hand and kiss it.
Will wondered a lot of things about life. So many things he wanted to change. Maybe do slightly differently. However, the woman on his arm was never one of them. He wouldn’t change these moments for anything.
“What do you think the future holds for us?” Fiona said, but this time her voice sounded sad.
“Just that. Us. Together.”
Fiona smiled, and her hand dropped to her stomach. “The three of us?”
Will returned the smile, warm and content. “Of course.”
They kissed. The light of the moon above seemed to shine on only them.
A drunken voice spoilt the moment. “Oi oi!”
They turned towards the voices. Two guys. One was holding up a bottle of beer, whilst the other was urinating against a wall. He was leaning back and an impressive arc of piss was going up a fe
w feet before coming back down to splash against the brickwork. It was right outside of a small playpark.
Just another Saturday night for the locals. Or perhaps these were lads getting away from it all, too. The proverbial yobs the barman was so put out about.
Slightly embarrassed, Will and Fiona walked on around the corner and past the pub. A slight spring in their step. Life was the conveyor belt that moved them on, and whilst other people and places moved in the opposite direction, they were always together. And deeply in love.
They walked up the path to the cottage, and with a fumble of the keys, Will opened the door.
Immediately they heard it.
Silent Night playing from upstairs. Low and mournful.
“I don’t believe it,” Will said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
“Is it faulty wiring… or something?” Fiona guessed, perhaps to say it out loud would make it better.
“Stay here,” Will said. He certainly wasn’t feeling macho, but if there was something or someone then he would rather face them alone than have Fiona be harmed.
Fiona put up a feeble defence, “No, you can’t go up there alone?” but Will knew she was worried.
Slowly he walked up the stairs. The eerie Christmas song got louder.
Will gulped. He didn’t mean to. It was just a natural reaction as he turned the corner towards the room.
He tentatively walked in and turned off the radio. For a second, he felt like picking it up and hurling it out the window, but how would he explain his actions to the woman he was renting off?
Sorry, but I didn’t like the song the radio kept playing…
He turned around and saw the lone item on the bed. It had been placed deliberately so as he would see it. A small plastic bottle, empty of pills.
He picked it up and looked at the writing. Not only were the drugs familiar to him, the name on the bottle was even more so.
Someone knew he was here. And worse still, they appeared to hold him responsible. The drugs that had caused him so much pleasure and pain. The fist-pumps of celebration, and the wonderful trial results; then the lows of the court case. Unknown accusing fingers pointing in his direction.
“Will?” the frightened voice of Fiona shouted.
He composed himself as best he could and slipped the bottle under the pillow of the spare bed.
“It’s okay,” he replied. “You can come up.”
He walked to the stairs knowing he had to put it out of his mind. What if it was an accident? A coincidence? Maybe someone had dropped it.
But the name was too much of a coincidence.
He went into their bedroom. He was relieved to see it was all normal. No apparitions. No more bottles. Just normal.
As he heard Fiona walk up the stairs, he stripped off completely naked to make out this was what he was doing.
“Are you―” she began and then saw him standing completely naked.
“―Naked?” he finished. “Yes, I am. But you’re not…”
“Then help me,” she grinned, and with that smile at least half of Will’s worries slipped away.
Tender strokes and kisses soon gave way to full on passion. It was as if something dark was taking over them, and neither wanted to resist. Silently, they moved around each other and did things they’d never done before.
They were so caught up in each other, they never heard the stranger at the door.
Little Miss Evil
Chapter 32 - Keith
T hey all sat around the fire, clutching bottles of beer. Everybody was facing him. This was what he wanted. He felt like a king. Such a contrast to earlier when he’d been made to look like a fool.
“Look around you,” he began, sweeping one arm out dramatically from left to right. “Anything can happen out here… and no one would know.” He took a swig of beer. His audience were captivated. The mouthy guy had a smile ready to erupt, he was waiting for the juicy details, and the girls looked worried at what might come next.
“Before I start, who knows about anything that has happened here before?”
Brett was the first to speak up. His enthusiasm was evident. “A girl was murdered, right?”
Keith saw the girl with the big boobs look at him shocked.
“Yes, indeed. Alice Cleaverly…” and he went on with the story, controlling the pace expertly. Slowing down and then speeding up in order to make it sound better.
When he finished, the girls looked shell-shocked. Not one of them had taken a sip of their beers since he’d started. The loud guy, however, was grinning like it was an amazing thing.
“Wow, mate! That must’ve been awful,” he said, but it was more in the tone of it being an event not to be missed.
“Oh my god,” Meg said. “How horrible!”
Then the girl who had rebuffed his advances said, “You said there were more stories? Please tell me they’re not like that one?”
Keith shrugged and took another swig. “I could tell you that, but I’d be lying―” he looked out at them all slowly. “―You see, so much death has been bestowed on this place and the surrounding area that locals think there’s evil around here!”
“Ooooh!” Brett said almost rubbing his hands together. Nat snuggled into Adam.
“I heard this camp was cursed,” the big curly-haired guy called Max said.
Keith nodded at that. “Yep, I’ve heard that too, and I really can’t argue with that. The next two stories happened not far from where we are sitting.” He pointed out into the woods. “One just out there,” he said looking at the large expanse of trees. Then he turned and pointed to a large oak tree not fifteen feet away. “And the other was there.”
“What?” Meg said, and for the first time almost jumped into Brett’s arms. Even Adam was looking uncomfortable.
“What happened?” Brett pressed.
“Okay,” Keith began. “Charlie Rodden was a lonely guy. He came on his own and pretty much kept to himself. We didn’t really see him around. Some said he never left his cabin. Only that night… He walked out here slowly and purposefully. He looked like he was in some sort of trance. Somebody called to him, but he ignored them… didn’t even register them, in fact. Apparently, he was empty handed, but at some stage, he’d found some rope,” Keith turned and pointed at the tree. “He hung himself from that very branch. I had to help cut him down!”
“Jesus!” Nat said.
“Definitely suicide?” Max questioned. It was slightly annoying as it ruined his flow.
“The police thought so,” Keith waved it off. “His wife had left him, then he’d got so depressed he fucked up at work, or something. So, he was a complete loser―”
A twig snapped and they all looked behind to where the sound had come from.
Keith continued, “But that’s not as bad as the Coach House murder. Off through those trees there is a house. You come to the garden first, around the front is a lane that takes you to the main road. At some stage it was an Inn―”
“Alright, mate. But what happened?” Brett said impatiently, wanting to get the story moving.
“Alright then, the place had been abandoned, that’s what I was getting at. A guy was out walking his dog when he saw a light coming from the house. There hadn’t been electricity hooked up in years, so it was a strange sight. Anyway, he went closer and heard a call, and this is the weird thing, it was the name Alice.”
“―But?” Brett began but Meg hushed him.
“Carry on,” she said.
Keith nodded. “So, he went to investigate. As he walked through the door there was an animal trap that snapped onto his foot. Then something came out of the darkness and attacked him!”
“What was it?” Max asked, and Adam and Nat shared a nervous look.
Keith shrugged again. “He couldn’t describe it. He thought it was pure evil though. It had horns on its head! Although he thought it could’ve been a mask, or some sort of African headdress. Anyway, the guy was heard screaming by a couple out walking and he
was picked up―”
“You said murder?” Brett shot out.
Keith nodded. “I did. He died not long after getting to hospital. His arms had been removed.”
“Shit!” Brett said this time. “Another with their arms removed, why?”
“Well,” Keith said with a huge smile. “That’s the thing. In the opposite direction to here, in the village that leads to the camp, an old couple, Bob and Connie, were murdered in their own house. The guy came home from the pub and found his wife hung in the bedroom - her arms removed! A few days later both of their bodies were discovered.”
Max gave a look of bewilderment, but Brett was having none of it. “You’re shittin’ us! All of these murders, in how long?”
Keith made a show of counting, “About five years,” he said. “The old couple was less than a year ago.”
Jenny then spoke up in a small voice. “I don’t believe in curses, but it all seems a bit suss, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Max added. “Come on you’re a local, what’s your take on it? Or is it you!” Nervous laughter rang out, and that only made Keith feel bigger and stronger.
“Haha! Not me – it’s bad for business!” But Brett cut in: “You say that, but the camp is packed, Why’s that?”
Keith pulled a face he hoped was vague.
“People outside of the area don’t know?” Jenny said in a statement that was part fact, and part question.
Keith held up his hands like he had a big secret he wasn’t willing to agree on. “I can’t say that exactly. I mean, I’m hardly a police officer, but the crime rate in rural areas is not high. At any one time there are only a handful of officers patrolling around most of this area. The majority of the crime happens north in Swindon. That’s fine, keep your criminals up there, we say. Murder is even more rare, so something like this is kept under wraps. I mean, go looking for it and you’ll find the details, and even the news stories, but they are not big headlines with photographs and speculation to worry the parishioners, no, they are stuffed―almost hidden away―in columns made up of vague facts.
“But I must say, I’ve wondered whether or not we should hail it as a marketing tool. Enough people are fascinated with true crime that we’d pack the camp with those. Change the focus from families, to those drawn to the macabre.” He trailed off, his dream for the first time spoken out loud to someone other than himself.