The Netherwell Horror

by Lee Mountford

  On top of that, the red wine was calling out to her. When inspecting the bathroom, Beth had noticed a couple of glasses in there to set toothbrushes in. While far from a proper wine glass, they would certainly do the trick, and beat drinking out of the bottle like an alcoholic.

  The alcohol might be a bad idea, considering that she wanted to be up early tomorrow in order to get to work proper.

  Today had been a bust.

  Oh, what the hell. A few drinks couldn’t hurt, and could serve to relax her. She retrieved a glass from the bathroom and poured herself a healthy measure.

  Beth started to drink as she plotted out the next day’s course of action, to make it go better than that day had. She certainly had options.

  She could locate the payphone Josh had used, to see if anyone nearby had seen him make the call. There was also the reporter back in town—Karen Porter. If the woman was still around in the morning, it would be worth speaking to her again for an update. And, if not her, perhaps another covering the story could shed more light. Beth was deep in thought as she took yet another drink, surprised that there was now only a little wine left in the glass. She drained it and poured herself another.

  That went down a little too easily, she thought, but went ahead with her second glass anyway. Before she knew it, Beth was on her second bottle, and was indeed feeling more relaxed. A warm, familiar sensation enveloped her like a protective blanket. She kicked off her Converse and lay back on the bed. The room around her spun a little, but Beth paid that no mind, instead basking in the sensations overtaking her, making her worries seem a million miles away. She soon drifted off into a drunken sleep, with the half-empty glass of wine still in her hand, perched on her stomach. As her body relaxed, the glass fell, spilling its contents onto her clothes and the white bedsheets beneath. Despite the spill, Beth didn’t wake.

  12

  Beth’s eyes fluttered open, though she dearly didn’t want them to.

  Her head pounded and her mouth and throat felt desert-dry. Movement, no matter how slight, only made her head feel worse. The blinding lights in the room only added to her newfound misery. Beth felt a sticky sensation across her stomach, and the fabric of her blouse clung to her skin. She suddenly remembered the glass of wine she had been holding, and sat up, her stomach lurching at the motion. Through blurred eyes, she saw that it was still nighttime outside. She also noticed the glass lying by her side on the bed, and a large stain of deep red across her stomach and over the bedsheets.

  ‘Fuck!’ she snapped, realising what had happened. Her vision spun and she had to stop from letting the contents of her stomach jump free from her mouth. Grabbing the glass and setting it on the nightstand, Beth then heaved herself from the bed, wavered on her feet for a moment, and then undressed. The bedsheets were ruined, and would no doubt cost her—Ms. Jacobs didn’t seem like the type to let it go. But, in fairness, Beth wouldn’t be able to hold that against her. She felt ashamed. With her clothes piled on the floor, Beth then stripped the bedsheets. Her bladder screamed at her, but she held on until the sheets were free. Only then did Beth wobble into the bathroom and relieve herself. Afterward, she made her way to the sink and ran the cold tap, greedily gulping down mouthful after mouthful of refreshing water while she tried to exorcise the dull, metallic taste from her mouth. After switching off the tap, Beth stood upright and looked at herself in the mirror.

  She didn’t like what stared back at her.

  Red, bloodshot eyes that looked tired and sad. Her hair was a mess and her lips were stained purple. She’d seen herself like this far too often after deciding to ‘just have one to relax.’

  Fucking idiot, Beth chastised herself. You don’t have time for this. You’re here for Josh.

  While she would eventually need to deal with the spillage on the bed, Beth's exhausted body screamed at her for more sleep. She could then sort out everything in the morning. For now, she needed rest, and she just prayed that extra sleep would be enough. A hangover was something she could ill afford. So, she padded from the toilet, passing the window as she did, curtains still open. It was then she cast a look outside.

  Beth stopped and squinted, trying to focus her vision. Though the light from the room itself reflecting back in the window’s glass made it difficult to see through the darkness outside, she could tell something wasn’t right.

  The stars were visible in the night sky, but many seemed to be blocked out. And, as crazy as it seemed, something outside appeared to be moving. Something massive. Other twinkling stars were then blotted out by the immense bulk that shifted in the night. With no light source outside to illuminate it, and with the light inside the room hampering her vision, Beth was unable to clearly make it out. She then moved quickly to the light-switch in the room and clicked it off, before returning to the window.

  The reduction of light pollution really helped, though Beth instantly regretted turning off the light. Her hand instinctively came up to her mouth. She wanted to scream, but the cry became lodged in her throat and she was unable to expel it. Instead, she made a pathetic mewling sound.

  That can’t be real!

  With the additional illumination, Beth was now able to make out a little more of the monstrosity that rose from the sea, held up on many massive legs. The central bulk of it writhed with long, thin tendrils, and Beth could just make out huge, open mouths. There wasn’t just one, and they were all wide, as if screaming. Thousands of rolling eyes lined the surface. The monster’s face was maddening and nightmarish, and the whole form seemed a mix of the insectile and cephalopodic.

  However, Beth could hear no sound from the nightmarish titan. There was only the noise of the waves outside, dulled by the double-glazed window. Despite what her eyes were showing her, Beth had to question if it was actually real. Could something so massive and inhuman actually exist? Surely not. There would be chaos all around. Even in the dead of night, someone else would have spotted it.

  Frozen to the spot, Beth could only continue to stare, feeling her grasp on reality slip. But then she noticed that the stars were a little more visible. And the body of the creature was not so clear anymore. It became harder to make out, and Beth was soon less sure that she was actually seeing anything. Soon, no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t see anything at all, only the stars in the night sky and the sea below it. Beth stood for a few moments longer, still frozen with fear, before her body relaxed enough for her to finally move again. She took a tentative step closer to the window, desperate to make sense of what was happening, but she saw nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  She felt tears spill from her cheek and her breathing became rapid. Her skin felt like a thousand pins had punctured it, and a cold sweat broke out. Beth had never suffered a panic attack before, but knew enough about them to realise that was what she was experiencing. She moved quickly over to the bed, almost tripping on the discarded sheets, and sat down. She then rested her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands.

  Breathe, she told herself. But rational thought was not winning out here. Not after what she had seen.

  The continued stream of fucked-up things she’d seen weighed on her. Eventually, the panic attack ran its course, lasting twenty minutes before Beth’s body eventually started to calm down. Her tight muscles eventually began to ease, and her breathing began to slow. Beth laid back on the bed and her whole body started to tremble. She didn't know what to do, and instinctively pulled the thick duvet across her, wrapping herself up into a bundle and trying to warm her quivering form. Though Beth remembered little about it happening, she shut down, utterly exhausted, and passed out into unconsciousness.

  13

  The blasting hot water from the showerhead above her felt good on Beth’s skin. Her flesh had reddened due to the heat of the water, and the room was filled with thick steam that actually helped clear her head.

  Upon waking that morning, Beth had felt disorientated and confused. It had taken a while to remember where she was
and, more importantly, what she had seen the previous night.

  It was clear after waking that a hangover had taken hold, but it was a lot more subdued than Beth might have expected. The shower was helping bring her back to normality, but she still felt tired, and there was grumbling in her belly that craved food.

  But despite all that, her mind was still stuck on the vision from the previous night. That titanic impossibility that towered from the sea. Silent, slowly moving its long, writhing limbs that had been too numerous to count. And that nightmarish face, with multiple mouths and thousands of wide, wild eyes. Beth had never before felt such a profound sense of worthlessness. It was as if she were no more than an ant to the behemoth. Less so. Tiny and insignificant, almost beyond notice. At the time, however, Beth had had a horrible feeling that it was looking right back at her.

  But it was morning now, and the daylight brought with it the realisation that what she had seen was flat-out impossible. It couldn’t have been real. That left only one answer.

  She had imagined it.

  Either the alcohol had affected her in ways it hadn’t previously, or at the time her mind still hadn’t been fully awake. Whatever the reason, Beth was certain she had somehow dreamed it up. It was the only plausible explanation.

  Of course, the fact that she’d had two similar experiences yesterday concerned her. She had been wide awake during those, and not under the influence of a significant amount of alcohol.

  The implications, therefore, were worrying. If she was seeing things in broad daylight, when fully awake, did that mean there was something wrong with her? Was she mentally ill, or about to suffer a breakdown of some kind?

  Beth had never experienced anything like it before in her life, and the thought of her mind unravelling caused an uneasy feeling to weigh down on her. She didn’t need this, not when Josh was in trouble. For the life of her, Beth couldn’t understand what had brought this on. Sure, she was worried about her brother, and also being jobless was a blow, but would that suddenly bring on something so serious? It didn’t feel right.

  Ignore it, she told herself. Just get on with the job at hand.

  It was all she could do, Beth reasoned. So, she shut off the shower and readied herself for the day ahead. The first task was to fill her belly. Then, she needed to get to work. The stained sheets on the floor of the room concerned her, and she knew that the right thing to do would be to report it. If Ms. Jacobs provided a turn-down service, then they would be found anyway. For now, however, she scooped up the sheets and deposited them in the bath. She would deal with that later. Beth then dressed in a fresh pair of jeans, the same Converse as the previous day, a light-blue wool jumper, and a coat. Beth then left her room and headed downstairs, ready to speak with Ms. Jacobs. However, the old woman was not at her station.

  Beth checked her watch to see that it was a little before nine a.m. There was a bell on the desk that she could ring, but she thought about the conversation that would likely follow if she grabbed the owner’s attention. Ms. Jacobs definitely seemed the type to make a big deal out of a spilt drink. In truth, Beth just couldn’t face that right now. Her hunger was actually making her feel nauseous, so she left. She would deal with the old woman and the fallout from her spill later. Beth decided against driving, reasoning that she could reach everywhere in town on foot.

  It took her about twenty minutes to reach the centre, and she ended up close to the Trout and Lobster, which was closed. The North East News van was still parked nearby, though no one seemed to be inside at the moment. There were a handful of people standing looking out towards the crime scene on the beach, but nowhere near the numbers that had been present the previous day. There were a couple of other news vans from different stations, but no activity to speak of. Beth looked out to the beach, over towards the cliffs. The police tape was still there, along with a single cruiser parked on the pebbles and a couple of officers. Again, the activity when compared to the previous day was greatly reduced. Beth then looked to the low wall that separated the open area from the pebbled beach. She remembered the sounds of babies crying. Then she remembered the monster standing out at sea.

  All in your head.

  Beth cautiously approached the wall and peered over it. There was nothing.

  Definitely all in your head.

  She was both was both relieved and concerned at the same time. At least those horrible, infantile things on the beach weren’t there, and probably never had been. But that definitely raised questions about her mental state.

  You’re fine, Beth told herself. Concentrate on the job at hand.

  She then looked around town for somewhere to eat, and eventually found a small cafe. The smell of cooking sausages and bacon was a welcome one and sent her hungry stomach into overdrive. The cafe was a quaint place, with only a couple of other people present. An overweight lady with a kind smile took Beth’s order—bacon, eggs, two sausages, baked beans, and toast. The food was out to her in just under ten minutes, and Beth greedily gobbled it all down, polishing it off with a nice cup of fresh, steaming coffee. The food was good, but this coffee was great.

  Then, she needed to be on the move again. While she could have asked the people in the cafe if they knew Josh, she really wanted to follow up on that phonebox first. With the magic of her mobile phone and Google—though the signal and connection here was poor—Beth was able to actually locate where the payphone was, and cross-checked it against the map application. It was part-way up the main hill coming into town, and according to the app was approximately ten minutes away on foot. The steep incline would be taxing, but the phone was easy to reach. Beth bought a bottle of water from the cafe before leaving, then headed back outside and followed the route to the phonebox.

  While hiking up the bank again out of town, Beth took in more of the detail of Netherwell Bay. She admired the stone walls to the front gardens of the townhouses, neatly manicured lawns, and wrought iron gates and railings. There was an expanse of grass and trees to her right that dropped down towards the running river. While the town centre felt packed and crowded with buildings, the road out was more spacious, with welcome expanses of greenery giving the road a more naturalistic feel. It was quite idyllic, and somewhere Beth could imagine people retiring to.

  She soon found the phonebox, on the left-hand side of the road, set just against the edge of the footpath. How Josh had managed to make a call on this thing, she would never know. It looked ruined.

  It was a constructed from a tall aluminium frame which was inset with glass panels to the walls and door. Or, more accurately, it used to have glass panels, but most of them had been smashed, and all that was left was jagged shards of glass. The metal frames were bent and twisted, and the whole thing was covered in graffiti. The phone inside was covered in a layer of grime and dirt. If she had just stumbled upon the phonebox without knowing anything else about it, Beth would have just assumed it out of order and left. As it was, she wanted to check. After using her handkerchief to pick up the receiver, Beth brought it close to her. Sure enough, she heard a dial tone. She set the receiver back down and looked around. Her attention was drawn to the townhouse directly adjacent to the phone. The render and roof tiles to the house looked immaculate, as did the front lawn, which was cut and sculpted to perfection. A small hedge to the front of the lawn was cut so neatly that a set-square could be positioned against the edges and would exactly show ninety-degrees. In the living-room window, a figure peered back at Beth.

  This person, however, was nothing like the tapping thing she had seen yesterday. They were real, and very much normal. The person looked to be an elderly man, with a thick grey moustache, bald head, and a red face. He did not look happy, and Beth remembered her brief conversation yesterday with someone who had picked up the very phone she now stood before.

  It didn’t take a genius to realise this was the same person. He quickly came outside to confront Beth.

  ‘Something interesting about that phonebox?’ the man asked as h
e emerged from his front door, walking with a slight limp. He was dressed in burgundy trousers and a cotton jumper with a checked pattern that ran down the middle.

  ‘Not really,’ Beth replied defensively. ‘Is there a problem with me looking at it?’

  ‘Just wanted to know what you were up to,’ he said, walking across his lawn to get closer to Beth. She had him sized up straight away. A curtain twitcher, someone who had to know everything that was going on outside of his house, and who would gladly get involved in anybody’s business if it meant them leaving him alone. The man’s voice was curt in its tone—definitely the same one Beth had spoken to yesterday.

  ‘Just having a look around,’ Beth replied. ‘And I’d thank you to leave me to it.’ She had zero patience for an attitude like his.

  ‘You’re the one that called that bloody phone yesterday, aren’t you?’ He jabbed an accusatory finger over in her general direction.

  ‘So what if I was?’ Beth asked, raising her voice. ‘You don’t own this phone, or the street it’s on. So butt out. Understood?’

  The cantankerous old man’s face dropped a little, and he paused. She’d clearly surprised him by going on the offensive, and he obviously wasn’t used to being spoken back to. He reminded Beth of her old boss in that regard.

  ‘Part of the neighbourhood watch,’ he said petulantly, though his voice was a little softer than it had been.

  What a fucking surprise, Beth thought. Of course you’re part of the neighbourhood watch. I bet you chase kids off for just standing around doing nothing.

  ‘Everything alright out here?’ another voice said, this one feminine. Someone else stepped from the house, and Beth presumed the lady to be the man’s wife. She had hair that was still black and wore it in curls down to her shoulders, and was dressed in a shawl, tan shirt, and cream trousers. The wrinkles on her face indicated her advanced years, but the woman certainly carried herself well, Beth noted.