Whisper

by Michael Bray

  It is my suggestion that you seek an alternative site, one which is perhaps a little less inclined to cause the issues outlined in my last letter to you and your staff.

  As you know, my interest is only in ensuring your safety, and as governor of Oakville, it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of all residents.

  I’m sure you will agree that the last thing that the town needs is to be embroiled in controversy such as your building project could potentially bring about. In anticipation of your veto, I have taken the liberty of conducting the assessment of several alternative locations, as outlined on the reverse of this letter. I hope you will have the good grace to see that this idea, as ambitious as it is, can only lead to problems for Oakville and its residents.

  Sincerely,

  Governor Thomas Hume.

  ***

  20th September.

  Thomas,

  I read your letter with great interest and must confess that although I greatly appreciate the sentiment, I find the theatrical tone somewhat amusing. Indeed, if I didn’t know any better, I would have been certain that you had already been whispering in the ear of my business partners, who are so far reluctant to proceed.

  Let me assure you, Governor that not only am I unconcerned with local folklore, but somewhat surprised that such idle gossip has you in such a state of agitation!

  However, I did you the courtesy of reviewing the alternative sites on the reverse of your previous letter, and although some would indeed make for interesting opportunities, I must decline. Perhaps it is my inherent inflexibility or more likely my desire to prove wrong you naysayers and doom merchants!

  Although I do appreciate your concerns for my safety, I must reiterate that I hold you in no way responsible for any harm that comes to me during the build. I only hope that the concern shown isn’t a sign of your intention to withdraw permission for the project. I do believe that our assigned agreement will be upheld should we need to involve the courts. I truly hope that this is not the case.

  I do sometimes wonder how all of this talk of phantoms began, and why nobody seems to know the ultimate truth.

  I would suggest it is because it is simply no more than fantasy designed to scaremonger. Fortunately, the Jones family are not easily alarmed by such stories.

  Sincerely,

  Michael.

  ***

  October 3rd

  Dear Michael,

  It seems that I must concede that you are determined to go ahead with this venture no matter what I or anyone else says. As to the idea that I might try to stop the project from going ahead, then I must confess that the thought had occurred to me. However, it seems that my own lack of foresight in signing the agreement to allow the build before checking the location thoroughly means it would be a long and expensive battle, which I have neither the desire nor energy to undertake.

  As it seems that you are so determined to proceed, I took the liberty of researching the source of the legend or ‘scaremongering fantasy’ as you so quaintly put it.

  I spoke to a gentlemen well versed in local legend, who said with great conviction that in the year 1556, there was a vicious tribe of flesh eating savages called the Gogoku, who inhabited the woodland. They would raid entire villages and abduct the local children, who they would murder and feast upon.

  Legend says that the earth became dark with their blood, and over time, the spirits of the dead began to whisper to the villagers, which in turn drove them to insanity.

  The men of the tribe, if the story is to be believed, slaughtered their kin and then set fire to the village. When it was a towering inferno, they walked into the flames, and they themselves were burned alive.

  Oddly, there is a circle where nothing grows close to where you plan to build. I am told that this is the location where the village used to be, and where the damned souls of the restless tribesmen are said to roam, forever in search of blood and in protection of their lands.

  It seems that even the souls of their victims were unable to find their rest, and so are said to inhabit the trees, whispering to each other and waiting for their chance to leave purgatory.

  I wonder if knowing this will change your mind, but I suspect, if anything, it will only strengthen your resolve.

  I can only hope that your business partners can dissuade you from proceeding. I cannot stress enough my concern.

  Yours,

  Thomas.

  ***

  October 14th

  Thomas,

  Thank you for the information about the Gogoku tribe. If only such stories were true, then life would be substantially more exhilarating wouldn’t you agree?

  For as much as I don’t believe a word of it, I was intrigued enough to make my own enquiries and was surprised to find the version of events that I received from my sources was almost identical to yours, however with a few minor embellishments which I think you will find entertaining.

  In the version of events that I was told, the Gogoku were not only cannibalistic, but also inbred. Can you imagine Thomas?

  Inbreeds!

  What a fantastic addition to an already lavish story!

  I must confess that after reading your last letter, I made a visit to the area of the wood where construction will take place and would you believe that I found the circle you spoke of.

  I must acknowledge that there was indeed a heavy atmosphere there, and the silence within its borders was total. Not a bird sang, nor a leaf rustled.

  Strangely, the grass didn’t seem to grow there.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought there was somebody maintaining the grounds in that particular area in order to keep up this ridiculous legend.

  I’m afraid that’s where my experience ended. No ghost children or phantom inbred cannibals I’m afraid, just acres of green land ripe for development. This will be my last letter for a while, as I have a business trip, which cannot be rearranged. I will be meeting with my business partner upon my return and fully expect to get authorisation and funding to proceed. I hope to begin construction next year.

  Do not worry my friend. Soon enough you will see that your worries were for nothing, even if your concern is appreciated.

  Sincerely,

  Michael.

  ***

  November 20th

  Michael,

  I understand that there is no stopping you, and also that no matter how often I ask you to be cautious, you will not listen.

  As much as I would like to wish you luck, I can only be truthful and hope that your business partner refuses to fund the project.

  This is not something I say out of cruelty, but out of concern for your safety.

  I wonder if you would keep writing to me as often as you can so that I can at least know that you are safe and well.

  Until next time my friend,

  Thomas.

  ***

  January 2nd 1808

  Thomas,

  First let me wish you a Happy New Year and apologise for the delay in getting back to you.

  I appreciate your concern, and take no ill feeling at your desire to see the project fail. However, I must inform you to your probable displeasure, that the project was approved!

  Bless Alfonse, he is as jittery as you my friend, and also tried to warn me away from proceeding. How any of you lead a civilised life I’ll never know!

  Work will be commencing shortly, and truth be told I cannot wait. This is now a personal mission to prove that there is nothing out in those trees but prime land waiting to be developed.

  Apologies for the brisk nature of this letter, however, there is much to do in preparation, as I’m sure you can appreciate!

  I will update you just as soon as I can.

  Your friend,

  Michael.

  ***

  May 14th 1808

  Thomas!

  Construction is underway! I write this to you now from the very place which seems to strike fear into your heart! The solitude of this circ
le is a good place to come and think and to pen my letters. I have a solid crew of workers, Negroes mostly, but they have strong backs and work hard. If only you could see it Thomas!

  It even has a name. I have christened it Hope House, and I’m sure that when you see the completed project, you will understand my determination to push forward. Perhaps one day you will have a home of your own here?

  As for the Gogoku, I’m sorry to say that I have seen or heard nothing of them and their kind. The only sounds are of construction and the heavy breathing of exertion.

  If all goes to plan, we should be complete in August.

  Sincerely,

  Michael.

  ***

  May 22nd.

  Michael.

  Despite my misgivings, I am happy for you that things are progressing well, and even more so that work goes on without incident.

  I do not know if you are interested or not, but I couldn’t help but do a little more research on the Gogoku, and although I know you do not believe any of the stories, I thought that you might be interested to know what I discovered.

  It seems that the Gogoku was a very spiritual tribe. They practised the dark arts, Michael, black magic. The tale here becomes a little vague, but by all accounts the Gogoku men, after killing the rest of their tribe, decided that no child shall ever be born on their lands again, and cursed the very earth with the blood of their people.

  The ground became sodden with blood from the slaughter, which in turn was taken in by the trees.

  Can you imagine?

  The living forest fed by the inbred, insane blood of the Gogoku tribe. I only hope that you are correct, and that it is just a story, for could you imagine what would happen if it were true?

  Although I doubt that this story will give you any kind of caution, but I ask you again anyway to be careful, and do not linger any longer than you have to amid the trees.

  Thomas.

  ***

  May 30th

  Thomas.

  I think I heard it. It said my name.

  Michael.

  ***

  June 8

  Michael.

  I sincerely hope that your last letter was in jest, and if so, I find it in extremely poor taste considering my very real concerns for your safety. Please reply at your earliest convenience if only to put my mind at rest.

  Yours,

  Thomas.

  ***

  June 24th

  Michael,

  I had hoped to hear from you by now, and with each passing day my concern grows. Please let me know you are safe and well at your earliest convenience.

  Thomas.

  ***

  July 9th

  Dear Governor Hume,

  I write to you with regret to announce the passing of my brother, Michael.

  As executor of his estate, I felt it my duty to write to you to inform you of this dreadful news, and to advise that upon reading of his correspondence to you, must share in your concern that all is not well with Hope House and its surroundings.

  Although I haven’t witnessed anything myself, I have often experienced a bone-deep chill and the uneasy feeling that I was being observed. I don’t wish to speculate or cause alarm, but I have my own personal suspicion that perhaps that place had something to do with his passing. The official line is that Michael drowned; however, I know that he was deathly afraid of the water and had been wary of it ever since we were children.

  There was an incident on the day I last saw him, which I was reluctant to include; however, I suppose it matters little now and I believe I can trust you.

  A man hanged himself on site the night before I last saw my brother, and although I pleaded with Michael to call the police, he in his stubbornness refused, and we had words.

  I left him there and our parting was sour, and his last words to me were that he would deal with the body himself. I wonder if he might have been trying to dispose of the body in the river when he saw or heard something that shocked him enough to frighten him into the water. I only hope that death found him quickly, and he has at last found peace.

  I must go now to that god-forsaken place and continue his work, although my heart tells me to stay away, the loyalty to my brother forces my hand. I can only hope that the work can be completed swiftly so that I might be able to at last mourn, and put this terrible ordeal behind me.

  Sincerely,

  Francis Jones.

  ***

  July 18th

  Dear Mr. Jones,

  Firstly, allow me to express my deepest of sympathies for your loss. I must confess, however, that I was always concerned for Michael’s safety, and although a shock, the news of his death came as no great surprise, I’m afraid.

  I am relieved that you have seen sense enough to know the forces that operate within Oakwell forest are not to be taken lightly. I do wonder why you would even go back to the site, as it is plain to see that you have personally experienced some of its power. Perhaps I might be so bold as to suggest abandoning the site and leaving it for the trees to reclaim at their leisure?

  Kindest regards,

  Thomas.

  ***

  July 30th

  Mr Hume,

  Thank you for your response to my letter, and for your condolences, which are truly appreciated. I would have liked nothing better than to abandon Hope House in its unfinished state, and was quite prepared to do so. It seems my wily brother had written a will prior to the project’s beginning (perhaps he had some respect for the legend surrounding the forest after all) requesting that if anything should happen to him to stop him completing the work, that I complete it for him.

  I know there is no legal obligation to do so, but I have to confess to finding myself torn between listening to the fear in my heart and in completing the work of my late brother. It was with great reluctance that I chose the latter.

  I have spent some time on the site of late, and although the workers are frightened, I think it shall soon be complete.

  It is unusual Thomas, that even though I haven’t witnessed anything I can directly say is spiritual in nature, I have imagined I have heard my name whispered by the wind as it passes through the trees.

  Perhaps it is the stress of recent events, or the dreams of that infernal place that haunt my nights, but either way I will soon be free of its shackles.

  Sincerely,

  Francis.

  ***

  August 9th

  Dear Francis,

  I see the dilemma you face, and the decision must have been difficult. I must express my concern at your experiences in the woods surrounding Hope House, and hope that these have been a suitable enough warning for you to vacate with haste.

  I can appreciate your desire to adhere to Michael’s wishes, but surely he would not wish for you to put your own safety at risk in the process?

  I can only urge you to down tools now and leave whatever resides in those grounds to its own devices.

  Yours,

  Thomas.

  ***

  Aug 20th

  It is I, Michael, back from the dead!

  Ha-ha!

  I of course jest.

  The house is almost finished and rather than stay away, I find that the solitude of the trees soothe me with their whispers.

  If I listen well, I imagine I can hear my brother calling to me, reassuring me that I am doing the right thing. I wish you could experience it for yourself.

  Francis.

  ***

  Aug 29

  Francis,

  I am deeply concerned by the content of your last letter.

  I can only urge you to get as far away from Hope House as possible. I fear for not only your sanity but also your life.

  Regards,

  Thomas.

  ***

  Thomas.

  It isn’t all bad.

  They really do make quite a lot of sense once you listen to them.

  House is complete, but they are angry. I must pay th
e price, and it is only fair.

  I was afraid at first, but they convinced me that this way is for the best. I don’t suppose you and I will converse again, and for that I am sorry.

  Farewell.

  Francis.

  P.S. Michael sends his regards.

  ***

  Steve looked up from the book at Melody, and saw his own horror mirrored in her expression. She glanced at the open volume on the table, and his gaze followed hers in looking over the fragile old letters taped to the pages.

  At last, it seemed that reality had finally hit her, and she’d gone beyond making excuses or trying to pass everything off as coincidence. She looked broken and beaten down, and far from the easy-going, carefree woman who first moved in to Hope House.

  He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be okay, but how could he when the chilling letters in front of them said otherwise.

  “What do we do now?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t know. Let’s read on a little further before we decide that.”

  She nodded, and the pair turned their attention back to the book.

  34. PREPARATION

  SO INVOLVED WERE THEY in the scrapbook when it was presented to them by Will, that they hadn’t noticed Donovan walk into the bar and sit far enough away to just be out of earshot. And their lack of recognition was no surprise, for every time in the past that they’d dealt with him, he’d been clad in one of his cheap suits, and his hair meticulously combed over in a ridiculous side parting. But now, he was incognito, wearing his scruffy jeans, a grey hoodie and baseball cap, and well on his way to being drunk.

  The events at the house earlier that day were being played in a never-ending loop in his head. At first, he was afraid—terrified, in fact. However, now that he had had time to think about it, and the alcohol had had a chance to do its magic, all he felt was the rage gnawing at his guts.