666

by Whateley, Michael

  "OK, but don't tell him why, he'll think we're mad. Let's just go and see. Put our minds at rest." He didn't want to, but he felt the need to show off, take control, be the man.

  Emma was already walking. Jason caught up with her, and holding her hand made his way to the boat.

  ***

  The boat was bobbing up and down on the swells, the little outboard motor chugging away happily as it carried them closer to the lighthouse. All it had cost them was a few of their sandwiches.

  "I'll stay by the boat," Sam said. "But you can't be too long, I don't want to be going back when it's dark."

  Sam was the owner of the boat. He was a local. He liked sea fishing, and that's why he kept the little boat. There was a bump as the boat made contact with the rock. Climbing out, Jason secured the boat to a rock and helped Emma out.

  "We'll not be long, Sam. We just want to check it out," Jason said. "We've never been in a lighthouse before."

  Turning round to head towards the lighthouse, he saw Sam wink at him, and smile. Jason shrugged and headed across to the lighthouse. The rocks were wet and covered in seaweed. It made the going slippery. Twice, Emma slipped, and would have hurt herself if Jason hadn't been there to catch her. At the top of the rocks there was a little path leading to some steps. The path ended at the foot of a stone staircase. They approached the staircase and looked up. There was an old wooden door, not quite closed, a flickering light coming through the gap.

  "Hello! Hello, the lighthouse," Jason shouted from outside. He wanted to delay entering as long as possible. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling.

  Emma made her way up the stairs past Jason, pushed the door open, and looked through. "I think it's deserted." Emma said.

  "There has to be a lighthouse keeper, doesn't there?" Jason said. He eased past Emma and went through the door. Whatever was inside, he wanted to be the first to see it, to confront it. He paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. It smelt musty and damp. The inside was sparse, there was a wooden floor, a table with a candle, a staircase going around the inside of the lighthouse, and a leather book on the floor.

  ***

  Simon didn't want to be here. He only was because he had promised his mum, and because he had loved his grandfather. He couldn't believe his grandad was dead. He would never see him again. He swallowed to clear the lump in his throat, it was so final. Walking slowly around the living room, he stopped and looked at an old picture on the wall. It showed a young couple holding hands on a beach. They looked so alive and happy, everything ahead of them. Simon wiped a tear from his eye. Jason and Emma, his grandfather and grandmother. Emma had died just last year, and Jason had been a changed man. The once lively, outgoing man had turned quiet. Before, he had never looked, or acted, his age, but when he lost Emma, he started looking like a man in his eighties. He lost the reason for living.

  Picking up the picture, Simon examined it more closely. He had seen this picture a thousand times, but had never really looked at it. Behind the beach was the sea, and in the background was a lighthouse. Was that it, was that the one that Jason had told him about? When he was a child, Jason used to sit him on his knee, and tell him a story about a journal he and Emma had found once in an old lighthouse. An old leather diary. It had belonged to a girl called Flo. Her last entry had been from July the tenth, seventeen hundred and ten. She had been rowing out to the rocky outcrop that would one day be home to the lighthouse. She had written that she had been intrigued by tales of witchcraft. Rumours had claimed that a witches coven used the rock for their ceremonies. How had her journal lasted so long, and how had it ended up inside a lighthouse that had not been built in her lifetime? Simon’s granddad had looked into it, but could discover nothing, and the eerie scream on the radio had never been heard since. Jason had never forgotten that scream, and always talked about it as if, one day, he was going to get to the bottom of it. Simon decided he would get to the bottom of it, for his granddad.

  ***

  The little inflatable boat bobbed about, alarmingly, in the water. It had been four weeks since Simon had been to his granddad's house. The house had been cleared, and was up for sale. The funeral had been quiet, and Simon had cried for days. Nothing peaked his interest or brought him out of his melancholy. There had been generations between him and his granddad, but they were so similar, he had been Simon's best friend. His mum had jokingly called them conspirators, they always got into mischief together. After the funeral, his spirit had returned, and so had his resolve. He had read the journal from cover to cover. Most of it was descriptions of the humdrum of life. It wasn't until he got to the final few entries that it got more interesting. The rumours of witches, the naked ceremonies they performed, and the evil spirit they tried to summon.

  Simon approached the mist-hidden lighthouse, the top shrouded, giving the illusion that the lighthouse disappeared into the sky. There was a bump as the boat made contact with the rock. Simon jumped out and made his way up to the lighthouse. It had all become automated since his granddad's day. Simon climbed the steps and reached for the door. It was locked, not that he had expected it to be open.

  Simon jumped around. There had been a noise, like a sighing voice, that said, "Yes," right behind him, followed by a click from the door.

  Simon turned the handle again, and it opened. He started wishing he had brought a friend with him. His chest was pounding, and his stomach had started to knot up. In the comfort of his bedroom it had all seemed easy, not scary at all, but now, on his own, very different. He walked into the room. It was empty now, though the spiral staircase remained, but that was the only original feature.

  "At last," the sigh came again, seemingly from everywhere.

  "Who's here? Stop pissing about and show yourself." Simon was starting to feel cold. The temperature had plummeted.

  "It's been so long since I last fed," the sigh said.

  Simon felt something on his shoulders. He was holding his breath, he daren't move, he didn't want to provoke whatever it was. He moved only his eyes and looked at his shoulder. There was a hand, it was cold, water dripped off it and soaked into Simon's coat. He felt as if he were being urged to turn around. He tried to fight it, but couldn't. He slowly turned. The journal fell to the floor as the screaming started.

  ***

  "Hey, babe, what was that? Turn the radio around," the man on the beach said.

  "Weird or what? It sounded like a man screaming," his girlfriend replied.

  The End

  The Haunting of Thaddeus Jayson

  Thaddeus, Ted to his friends, laughed as he carried Molly across the threshold of their house. The sun was shining. The house was cosy. The honeymoon had been a blast. His new wife was beautiful. Life was good. It had been a long time since he had been this happy.

  ‘Think you’ve put on a few pounds in France, too much French cuisine,’ he said, winking at Molly.

  “More of me to love,” she said, kissing his nose.

  Thaddeus carried her through the hallway and into the living room, lowering her onto the sofa. He sat beside her, snuggling up close.

  “I can't believe it,” he said. “I can’t believe we’re married. It’s perfect. Life is going to be perfect. I love you, Molly.”

  He reached across, put his hand on her shoulder, and kissed her tenderly. Molly kissed him back, enjoying the closeness. A few moments later, she pulled away, breathless, and looked deep into his eyes.

  “I love you too, Ted. Teddy. You're my Teddy Bear,” she said, touching his nose.

  The next few days were uneventful. They both settled back into their routine. After the excitement of the wedding and the honeymoon, it all seemed anti-climatic, but they were happy. Ted went back to his law firm, and Molly returned to being a nurse. It was Molly’s job that had been the cause of their meeting. A patient had tried suing Molly. Claiming her care had caused her condition to deteriorate. Ted had given her advice and handled her case. He had got th
e claim dropped after showing that the patient had done this many times before. Molly and he had just clicked. Liked the same things. Ate at the same restaurants. They saw each other a few times. Then a few more. Then they saw each other all the time. It was unspoken. They both just knew. It felt as if he had been living his life, waiting for this one woman to make his life whole. Then. On the third night. It happened.

  ***

  Ted woke with a start. He had been having a nightmare. He was confused. He was in bed with Molly. She was fast asleep. He tried to move, but he couldn’t. He was pinned down. He could feel pressure on his arms and his stomach. It felt as if something was sitting on him. His eyes were wide. His heart pounded. The blackness in front of his face was somehow darker. He wanted to turn away, but could not. The darkness came closer. Closer. Then a face came into view. The skin looked shiny, like it was wet. In places, the bone showed through with the flesh hanging, rotten beside it. The eyes were black, empty sockets, and the mouth was a ragged hole with broken teeth. As Ted stared. Frozen to his bed. A flap of skin peeled away from beside the jaw, falling onto the bed. shedding maggots as it fell. They crawled onto Ted’s arm. He could feel them wriggling, working their way up, to his shoulder, then his neck. He opened his mouth to scream. A boney rotten finger was placed on his lips, then raised in front of him, wagging from side to side. The face in front of him turned to face Molly. The threat was clear. He didn’t want any harm to come to her. He turned his face to the side, closing his eyes tight, holding his breath.

  Just get it over with, he thought.

  Time had lost all meaning for Ted. He had no idea how long it had been since closing his eyes. But nothing else had happened. He tried moving. He could. He opened his eyes into slits. Just blackness. It had gone.

  Had it been real? Had he imagined it? Was it his nightmare? His bedsheets were warm and damp beneath him. He had been sweating. His terror at least had been real. He lay still, gathering his thoughts. In time, tiredness overcame him and he felt the warm comforting darkness of sleep. Then there was a shuffling noise from near the bed. He was instantly awake, looking around. There was nothing.

  ***

  Ted was sat in front of the table. He watched as Molly moved around the kitchen, preparing his breakfast.

  “Don’t let me stop you from helping.” She laughed as she teased Ted. “Men can help in the kitchen these days. It’s liberating, apparently.”

  She put scrambled eggs and a steaming cup of tea in front of him. He picked up his fork and moved the eggs around his plate.

  “Are you ok, Ted? You look exhausted. Did you sleep ok?”

  “I’m just feeling run down, I’ll be OK.” He smiled at her, trying to change the subject.

  “Get an early night, you’ll feel better for it.” She kissed him on the check. “I’ll see you tonight. Off to work. Love you.”

  “Love you more,” he said.

  He watched her leave the house, feeling alone as the door closed. What had happened last night? Had it just been a vivid nightmare? He had lived in this house for a long time, surely he would have known if it had been haunted. There had been a familiarity, though. Something nagging at the back of his mind. Drinking his tea, he left for work.

  ***

  He could hear Molly breathing beside him in bed. Since coming back from the honeymoon she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Ted just couldn’t relax. He was exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes, he could hear shuffling, or scraping. When he opened his eyes, there was nothing. Sleep was impossible. Days blurred. Nights dragged. His life was collapsing in front of him. His work suffered. His work colleagues whispered by the water cooler, going quiet when he was near. His wife stopped smiling and started looking concerned. For the next five days it was the same. He started taking naps at work just to get by.

  Saturday night. The sixth night. Molly was in bed in a deep sleep. Ted was in bed, trying, failing to sleep. The shuffling continued when his eyes closed. Then he heard movement downstairs. Ripping. Banging. He eased himself from under the covers. Feeling round for a weapon. There was an old pocket knife under the bed. He took it. Opened up the blade. Held it out in front. This had to be a burglar. Ghosts couldn’t move objects. Couldn’t rip things. He opened the door, just enough to peer through. He could see the top of the landing and part way downstairs. The noise was louder. If it was a burglar, they didn’t care about the noise they were making. He tip-toed to the top of the stairs. It was dark. The streetlights cast a dim light through the windows. Moving downstairs a step at a time, he could see something on the floor at the bottom. He tensed. Ready to leap back at any sign of danger. Nothing moved. He reached down for the object. It was soft, yielding, smooth. He picked it up. The lights came on.

  “Ted! What are you doing?” Molly said from the top of the stairs. “I woke up. You wasn’t there, I was worried.”

  She was looking at him. Confused.

  “What's that in your hand?” she asked. “Is that my Dress?”

  She came downstairs towards him. There was a tear in the corner of her eye. Ted looked at the object in his hand. It was a white strip of cloth. He looked at the remains on the floor. More white strips of cloth. It was Molly’s wedding dress, or what was left of it.

  “Why, Ted? Why would you do this?” Molly said from the floor.

  She was holding the ruined dress in her arms. Tears streamed down her face.

  “No. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do this. Moll, you’ve got to be believe me.”

  He reached for Molly, dropping the knife on the floor. Then freezing. Molly looked at the knife, then back at Ted. Her tear-streaked face took on an accusing edge.

  “No. That was for the burglar. I thought we had a burglar,” he said.

  “What burglar? There's no one else here.” Molly stood up. “Why would you do this? Do you regret marrying me after only one week?”

  “No. There wasn’t a burglar, after all. But I heard noises. It must have been the ghost,” he said. He stared at her, willing her to believe him.

  “Oh, now it’s a ghost. What next? A goblin?” Molly shouted, waving the ruined dress at him. “I’m going to my mom’s. Sort yourself out, Ted. I’m not living like this.”

  “You're not dressed, Molly. Come on. Stay. We need to talk.”

  Molly grabbed her long coat from the rack. Put it on, and with a last accusing look, she was gone.

  He heard her car drive off. He was rooted to the spot. How had his perfect life collapsed? So quickly. Again. The spell was broken as he heard the now familiar shuffling on the stairs. This time he was alone. Not now. It was too much. He sprinted for the door, in his pyjamas. He grabbed his car keys and left the house. The floor outside was damp. It had rained earlier. Getting in the car, he fumbled to get the key into the ignition. The engine coughed, then spluttered to life. He sped off from the house. Not really sure what he was doing. Where he was going, but glad to be away from there. As he drove along he saw the apparition. It was stationary in the road. Fearing that it would enter the car if he was close, he turned and went down a side road. It appeared again. He turned again. He was been guided. He was going were the ghost wanted him to go. With a sickening realisation, he knew where he was going, and who the spirit must be.

  On the cliffs overlooking Scarborough, the wind was blowing. It was dark, and it was empty. The lights of the approaching car lit up a rabbit on the grass. Its ears turned, its nose twitched, then it was gone, hopping off into the bushes. The car stopped and Ted stepped out. Walking along the grass, he headed to the cliff. Back then, this had been a camp site. Full of life. Full of adventure. Now it was empty.

  Nearing the cliff, he saw the ghost. It was stood near the edge. It was beautiful.

  “Nancy,” he said. “It is you. I’ve missed you so much.” He brushed a tear from his eye, remembering that day.

  ***

  Nancy sat in the tent, empty beer cans scattered around.

 
; “Come on, Ted, don’t be a stick in the mud,” she giggled, holding the joint out to him.

  “I start my new job as a lawyer. Wouldn’t look good if I was late because I’d been arrested would it?” He took the joint anyway. Putting it in his mouth, he inhaled deeply before coughing and spluttering.

  “Now I know why they call this stuff shit,” he choked. “It’s not good shit, Nance.”

  “Don’t be such a square. We’re young. We’re married. We’re in love. You’ve got to live a little, Ted. Loosen up. Come on. I want to make love. Outside. Under the stars.”

  She ran outside, waving him to follow. The beer and the weed were taking their toll. Ted stood, his hand brushing against the tent for support. He stumbled after her. He could hear her in the dark, teasing him.

  “The first man that finds me can have me. Make sure it’s you, Teddy,” she giggled.

  Heading towards the sound, he hit the floor as he caught his foot on a guide rope.

  “Shit! Coming, Nance. I’m coming.”

  Picking himself up, Ted carried on. He could see her outlined against the moon. She was near the cliff. Concerned for her, he moved fast. Nearly there. Almost there. He felt panic as he fell forward. Putting out his hands, he felt resistance. Just enough to get his balance back. He collapsed onto his knees. There was a scream. A thud. Then silence.

  “Nance! Nance!” Ted shouted.

  On his belly, he moved to the edge of the cliff. At the bottom, he could see a body floating in the water. Nearby, jagged rocks rose from the sea. Blood being washed from them as the water flowed around.

  Ted, overcome by grief and drugs, passed out in tears.

  “Wake up, man. Come one,” the man said.

  Ted came to as he was shaken.

  “Nance?” Ted said.

  “There’s no one here, pal. Come on. Get up.”

  “What are you doing, Phil? He’s pissed, just leave him,” a second man said.

  “Can’t do that, Gaz, silly sod will fall off the cliff. Help me shift him to the campsite, then he’s someone else’s problem,” Phil said.