by Billy Young
Death was gratefully received as the fire melted her flesh. She didn’t wait to see how they would treat her remains. She knew she needed an anchor to hold her to this realm so she could seek the revenge against those responsible for the wrongs done to her.
Her spirit passed over fields, through the woods to the place she had known as home; to the house where she had been born. As she entered she saw the devastation left by those searching for valuables but to her it was the work of those she now wished ill. As she surveyed the broken objects that her mother had left her she notice a large glass jar on its side hidden amongst the other things her mother had lovingly looked after now smashed. Only the jar seemed to have survived. Outside her cow was gone as was the garden plundered of its produce.
Chapter 7
“How long do you think it will take for you and…? Andy isn’t it?” Sandra said looking at the taller man on searching her memory for his name. Sandra was a short stout woman with shoulder length mousey hair; her most prominent feature was a large hairy mole on her top lip which earned her the nickname of Cocopops.
“Only an hour or two at most,” answered Micky.
His boss looked at him nodding as if trying to look all knowing. “Then you’ll sweep up the road from the main gate to the walled garden?” She questioned the men yet knew this was her plan but wanting them to think it was somehow their idea.
“Yes,” Micky agreed. He waited for her to reveal what else she might have for them to do, knowing she always did.
“Do you think,” she began as if to suggest something, “that you’d have time to brush out the walled garden?”
“Yeah, cause we’ll not be finishing till late as we open tomorrow,” Micky pretended to remind the middle aged woman.
“Well if you do that then you can come and see me if you need something else to do,” she said as if pleased by their decision, “that alright?”
“Okay, will do,” Micky agreed as both he and Andy lifted the paint tins, with the brushes then made for the canteen door to head out to start the long days work followed closely by their boss, on her way to the main office.
The sky seemed brighter as they exited the cabin as the sun tried to burn its way through the cloud cover. They headed left out the gate on their way to the top end of the park and the log flume fence that awaited a new coat of paint.
“Once you’re finished with the painting could you drop it off at the office?” Sandra asked before the two men could escape.
“No problem,” both answered in unison as they went one way and the woman headed the other.
“Why does she want us to take the paint to the office?” Andy looked to his co-worker as one of the parks Manitou’s drove past and in through the double gates, stopping in front of the cabin.
“No idea,” Micky shrugged his shoulders, “maybe she’s going to decorate the office with it or maybe her house.”
“You really think,” Andy answered naively.
Micky laughed aloud as his friend looked at him, bemused. “Oh yeah, I can just see her house now a nice shade of Timberland brown,” he said between guffaws.
“Well you never know,” Andy said as he realized he was making a fool of himself, a little redness coming to his cheeks.
“Yeah, I can just see it,” Micky continued to tease.
“What ever,” Andy murmured as Micky slowly stopped laughing. “So where are we going to start?”
“Where we left off yesterday,” Micky said casually as they walked along the tree lined boulevard that took them to the awaiting new fence in need of a coating of paint. They past the newer coaster, one of the main attractions, standing taller than the trees by the road; even though its entrance was below the road.
“When do you think we’ll finish the night by the way?” Andy hoped it wouldn’t be too late as he didn’t fancy going through the woods at night which he now could see as they approached the log flume.
“Hopefully not to late,” Micky paused to think it over for a moment, “maybe about half seven or eight.”
A man walking his dog nodded at the pair as they turned into the picnic area before the flume. . “Looks like it might brighten up later,” the gentleman said as he passed by on the other side of the roadway.
“Let’s hope,” Micky answered cheerfully. They crossed the large open space going round the tables and set down the cans they’d been carrying next to the fence. “You want to start down there.” He pointed in the direction of the tea house, a large wooden barn like structure as he noticed the man with his dog letting his pet run free from the lead.
“Okay,” Andy answered stooping to retrieve the paint tin he’d just deposited on the ground.
“You got something to open the tin with?” Micky queried before his younger companion lifted the container.
“Yeah, I’ve got my keys for my house,” he said as straightened, tin in hand before moving off to get on with the job at hand.
Micky kneeled down, reaching into his pocket to find his own keys to open his pot, sitting the brush from his other hand on the ground as he did so. He soon had the lid off and began applying the contents to the new wood unceremoniously.
They worked quickly, moving closer as the fence became thickly coated with the brown water based solution. Splodges dropped from brushes as the day brightened, the sun finally winning against the grey overcast and began to shine, weakly at first. With it the day started to feel warmer and both men loosened their coats as they worked; before long discarding them as the sweat began to trickle down their backs though they still retained their sweatshirts.
Bird song drifted from the nearby woods as the sun finally burned the last of the grey from above yet, leaving a white haziness to the sky.
Time past speedily and the men soon came together. Micky stepped back to let his, less experienced, friend finish the last part of the fence alone.
“You missed a bit,” Micky said pointing to where Andy still hadn’t done.
“Where?” Andy asked falling for the joke as Micky laughed. “Oh, I see okay, okay smart guy.”
Micky moved off to collect the lid for the tin still laughing, picking up his coat on the way as Andy finished the fence which he did before Micky reached the paint top. He then waited for his friend, forgetting his own jacket, to join him.
“Aren’t you wanting your jacket then?” Micky said as he strolled back towards Andy.
“Eh, oh right,” he replied as Micky nodded in the direction of the garment.
“And you better put the lid on the tin as well,” Micky smiled as he spoke.
“Yeah,” Andy made his way over to where he left jacket, Micky following behind. “Where will we wash the brushes?”
“There’s a tap behind the tea house.” He didn’t stop to wait for Andy as he halted to put the top on the pot.
“So where about is this tap then?” Andy enquired as he jogged after Micky.
“Just follow me.”
They were soon over the fence next to the large wooden building and round the back to the tap, washing the heavily brown covered brushes clean. The water gushed out of the spigot over the brushes to the earth turning it muddy; some of the mucky water splashed up onto their trousers and trainers.
“Micky!” An echoing cry came from a group of three in the distance, heading up from the cabin towards the two men.
Micky smiled as he recognized his old friend from previous years at the park; then headed in their direction with the now cleaner brush. Andy followed closely behind as Micky walked quickly to talk with his friend, climbing the fence to the main road, to join the approaching figures.
“What they let you back?” Micky joked as he got closer to the three co-workers.
“Yeah, well they said, they needed somebody to keep you from scaring the customers away,” said an average sized, thin man on the right of the group; his longish dark brown hair falling into his eyes before being flicked away with a toss of his head.
“What? Me?” Micky looked she
epishly back at the man.
“After last year most certainly,” the slender man jokingly responded.
“I’ll let you know I treat all the customers the same,” Micky smiled playfully.
“And that’s what I’m talking about,” the man nodded as he spoke making his hair fall back into his eyes which he flicked away as before.
“How what does he do?” asked one of the thin man’s companions bringing loud laughter from Micky and the brown haired man.
“What doesn’t he do?” Andy joined the fun as he’d heard plenty of tales from the maintenance crew over the past week or two at lunch.
“And another thing,” the thin man began, “if your in the park on you’re day off, don’t go on the ride he’s on.”
“Why?” Asked a young slip of a girl with large brown eyes which caught Micky’s for a moment as she smiled up at him.
“Don’t listen to him,” Micky poked his thumb at the slight figure in front of him, “he’s just getting old and can’t keep up with us younger ones.”
“Younger ones, well that rules you out then,” the slender man said, smiling.
“I resent that,” joked Micky.
“What, the truth hurt,” the other man continued the pretence.
All those gathered joined Micky in his laughter. “So where were you at the induction?”
“I had other things on so couldn’t make it but then they asked me to come in today to clean some of the rides for tomorrow,” the brown haired man answered Micky.
“And there I was hoping you’d come to help me and Andy here,” Micky nudged Andy.
“I bet you do,” he started, “and you watch he doesn’t leave it all for you,” he said to the taller man.
“I’ve noticed he was a bit of a lazy sod,” Andy cheerfully put in.
“Don’t listen to them,” Micky said to the other two trying to catch the girl’s eye again without success. “Anyway what time is this to be starting?” Micky asked looking at his watch which stated it was just going onto twenty to ten in the morning.
“Cocopops told us just to come in for half nine till two so,” shrugged the other man.
“A short day then,” Andy stated.
“Yeah, how long have you’s been in for?”
“Since eight, and we’re not sure when to,” Micky said a little wearily.
“Hopefully not to late though as I don’t fancy walking through the woods in the dark,” Andy gave a nervous smile.
“Somebody’s scared of the witchy house,” Micky poked fun at his friend with a gesture of the head.
“What house?” asked the thin man’s companions in unison.
“Oh, it’s just an old dilapidated cottage in the woods everyone thinks is haunted around here,” Micky explained almost laughing out loud at the thought.
“Ah, right,” the others smiled back.
“You can mock all of you if want but I don’t think many folks about here would go near that place at night,” defended Andy.
The rest of them smiled at him.
“Well I suppose we better get on a lot to do unlike you part timers,” quipped Micky after a moment.
“Listen to who’s talking,” Micky’s friend replied, “but I think we’d better get on with it as well. If I don’t see you later I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” they shook hands before parting company. The three new comers heading for the rides at the top of the park as Andy and Micky headed down towards the cabin, the walled garden; then the office.
“You fancy a cuppa tea?” Micky asked as they got closer to the canteen building.
“Why not,” replied Andy suddenly feeling a little parched. They quickly turned into the gateway.
Chapter 8
She watched as her captives swam around the inside of the jar. like fish in a bowl trying to find their way out to freedom. Some of the spirits seemed brighter than others to her sensitive eyes; she knew this was because they hadn’t been in there for as long as those dimmer, weaker souls.
She noticed one that was barely visible to her. She knew this to be the fat, arrogant sheriff that had sentenced her to death; knowing her innocence. Why, she had only found out the night she had finally caught up with him, to bring upon him the hell he now endured.
It was over a month since she had been put to death though life had gone on for those responsible. She had used the glass jar she had found as an anchor to stop herself from moving on to the place of rest. She knew that was the only way to bring about the justice she so desired. That she could not rest until all the guilty were brought to task for what they had done.
The sunset earlier as the seasons began to change, as August reached towards its end. She felt happier as the longer nights grew closer for it gave her more time to seek out those that she sought. But where would she start? She knew whom she wanted first but how to reach out without alerting the others before she was ready to let each know of their mistake?
It was as she wandered close to the castle manor house thinking, plotting these things over when she heard voices drifting on a breeze. She recognized one as that of her most hated of enemies, the sheriff. Her curiosity was raised so glided through the dark, closer to the window where the voices came from.
“So I heard that the old minister has been causing trouble over the witch,” the laird said to his guest the bulging sheriff.
“Nothing that the rumours that have been going around won’t sort out, if you know what I mean,” the sheriff gave a knowing laugh, which was joined by the laird as they shared the joke. She noticed from where she gazed at the men that they were alone, enjoying a night of drink and the gentlemanly pursuit of cards as they discussed business, which was just an excuse to drink even more than usual.
“Yes well everyone loves gossip,” the laird smirked, “and the right coin in the right pocket can help it along quite nicely.” Both loudly bellowed out their amusement, feeling no guilt at the harm they caused to those they saw as beneath them.
She didn’t understand; were they plotting something against the old minister, why? She felt her hatred growing; barely able to contain it with in but what was the laird doing, what was his part and how could he gain from hurting the clergyman?
“Well he should have taken my warning to mind his business after we dealt with the witch, instead he goes sending letters to the parliament asking for the matter to be looked into,” the fat man shook his head disapprovingly, “luckily you have such good connections.”
“Nonsense no luck involved,” the laird said sure of his breading as he saw it, “planning is all it takes, just as with that scheming witch. To think her and her mother could steal my land, really,” he added dismissively.
The shock hit her, the laird had been behind this and now he was plotting against the one man that had always been there for her as well as her mother throughout her short life. She controlled the anger growing inside. She wanted to rush at them, to take what they had taken from her; damning them to the glass prison she had prepared for those she now sought plus one.
“Yes, well she paid. It’s just a pity we couldn’t have done the same to her crow of a mother,” the sheriff’s words burned her soul almost as painfully as the fire had her flesh.
“I’ll drink to that,” the laird raised his glass then took a large swallow of the liquid refreshment it held.
“What do you think of her curse?” The laird narrowed his eyes as he asked the question, as if to hide his own thoughts within.
“Nonsense, total nonsense,” the odorous fat lump of a man mocked, “she is in hells own grasp now and as we all know there is no escape for that.”
Their laughter once again taunted her as she listened. She would show them, yet she knew she needed to do this right; she knew she may have to wait so as to fulfil her malediction.
The men talked on as the hour grew late, though she no longer showed interest now she knew the truth. It had been for simple greed that she had been sacrificed to the f
ire. If the laird had so wanted the land why not just request it be returned?
Finally the sheriff decided it was time to head home. His host seeing how late it was offered to put his guest up for the night but the sheriff wouldn’t hear of it, wanting the comfort of his own bed with it’s a small number of bedbugs, though he doubted if the laird would have few, if any.
His mistake of dismissing her curse and taking the quick road through the woods made him easy for her to follow, especially since he was walking as it was such a fine night for such activity. He’d left his coach behind though the laird had offered his, more out of appearing sociable than to save the sheriff from the walk.
The fat lump strode purposely along the main track way that cut through the woods that contained her cottage. As he went, she rustled branches in the darkness out of his sight yet loud enough for him to hear. The noise at first didn’t seem to bother him but as he continued onwards he began to get more nervous as fear rose within of vagabonds hiding waiting to waylay him though he tried to dismiss the fear by putting the sounds down to deer or some such other creatures foraying for food.
“Who’s there?” he’d nervously asked as she snapped a large branch which he no longer could put down to animals. He search the night as far as his eyes could reach into the shadows though saw nothing.
No reply was given to his challenge. He picked up his pace, pecking as he went as his breathe grew more laboured; as she followed in the woods, shaking more branches, snapping others causing his fear to rise, driving him on along the roadway and regretting not taking the laird up on his offer of a room for the night yet not wanting to turn around to head back.
“Do you know who I am?” He’d shouted self-righteously, as he stopped his progress on glimpsing her ghostly form flitting between the trees. She could not hold back her mirth, cackling loud sending him into greater flight, stumbling on the rough potholed surface in the darkness.
He stopped as he came to the front of her house, labouring for breath, holding his knees for support. It was then she had struck. His mind unable to take in the horror of her screaming rage filled apparition as she threw herself towards him from out of the dark.