Horizon: File 016 (Hope)

 BEGIN REPORT

FILE 016: HOPE

Still in my car. Still wondering how much longer I can keep doing this for. Still wondering if I'll ever see the light at the end of the tunnel. The sun should be rising soon, but somehow the daylight doesn't seem to expel the terrors of the night. They stalk me no matter the time of day. So, I'll just sit here sipping on my cold coffee, praying that each day brings me something else.

You'd forgive me for thinking that the grizzly old Simon Roper was going to take me into the Adam & Eve and buy me a drink, but he didn't. Instead, he looked at me with those haunted old eyes, grabbed my hand and began marching across the gravelled carpark and towards the street. I'd pulled back, asking him what the hell he thought he was doing.

He had told me that what he had to say couldn't be said in public. That there were potentially people watching him all the time. I told him I still wasn't prepared to go anywhere with him as I didn't know him. He suggested we go to my car and then proceeded to hand me a gun.

A bloody gun!

He slipped it covertly into my hands and told me that I could sit next to him in the driver’s seat and if I felt threatened, or if he made any attempt to hurt me, then I could defend myself. You couldn't have said fairer than that.

What followed was a conversation that wouldn't exactly open my eyes but would put me on another course. A course that led to hope.

I'd asked him about what he'd seen in Hell. I told him that the video had caught on fire part way through. He told me it was just as well, touching his scars lightly, his milky eyes lost in the distant past. He didn't want to tell me what he'd seen down there. After I'd pressed, he'd warned me not to force the conversation and that I had to stay focused - finding Eleanor.

That brought me crashing back to reality.

He told me that after he'd "left" Hell he'd had nightmares. He wouldn't tell me exactly what, but it had broken him. Horizon had tried to help him, but really all they wanted were answers to what he had seen. It had gotten too much. He'd resigned. They had refused his resignation request. He'd quit. They'd hauled him in front of their CEO, Galloway, who had told him in no uncertain terms that he was going nowhere.

So, he had escaped. Changed his identity. I'd asked him how he had come to know Stark. He'd told me that some connections needed to be protected. Out of desperation he'd adopted the identity of David Harrison and become a recluse, hiding out in Lincoln. He told me that he had to hide from them because of what they may do to him.

I asked him what he meant by that. At that point his mouth had finally stopped moving, his eyes blank. And then he looked at me. I saw a fire in his eyes I'd never seen before as he told me that he was going to show me and that, if I felt comfortable with him, he'd take me somewhere that would give me answers.

I asked him where that would be.

He told me he was going to take me to somewhere called "the well".

Shit! I car has just pulled up. At this time. In the early hours. And there's no bloody number plate on it. Oh shit. Oh shit...

END REPORT

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

The Stranger and the Holy Man (Tales from the Ghostwood)

This piece was the original prologue to my first, full-length novel titled "The Ghostwood Demon." Very quickly I decided to remove it and a totally new prologue was written instead.

“I once met a strange, tired man, not long after I had arrived in Little Ashbury. His eyes were the darkest brown I had ever seen, but they seemed sad. He seemed to be on the verge of tears, yet when he smiled at me, I saw such warmth. Such happiness. He was a troubled character. I'd met him leaving the Ghostwood Arms and, in his drunken stupor, he had told me that his name was Flagstaff and that he had lived in the area for a long, long time.


An incredibly long time.


I asked him if he needed any help on returning to his home, but he told me that he could never return home. That he was cursed to remain here forever.


After a little while he began telling me a strange tale about Heaven and Hell, yet he had different names for them. Names he said were only remembered by those who needed to know.


After a few more minutes of him mumbling incoherently he made to leave. But before he departed, he turned to me, now seemingly stone cold sober. He warned me that no matter how tempted I was I must never go into the woods. He told me that inside the woods lay only darkness. And he warned me that whatever I thought I knew about death was a lie.


I continued to meet with Flagstaff many, many more times over the years and we eventually became good friends. And that’s when I found out what lay in the heart of the Ghostwood. That's when Flagstaff told me the story that would rock my very beliefs to their core...”


Extract from the diary of Reverend Ernest Goldsmith, August 1851

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Horizon: File 015 (The Waking Ally)

BEGIN REPORT

FILE 015: THE WAKING ALLY

Bloody dog walkers. Why do they hang around remote woodlands in the dead of night? Mind you they're probably wondering why a diminutive blonde is sat out in her car in the dead of night as well. Their faces told me all I needed to know about what they thought about that. So, I'm ok. No Horizon men in suits trying to take me away.

Again.

So... Simon Roper. Stark had sent me on my way with all those freaky images in my head. She told me that if I ever needed her then all I had to do is call her, but...I don't know. This was my crusade. This was my quest. I felt like Stark was too detached from Horizon. I had to dig deeper. She understood that and praised me for my dogged determination.

But as I sped off from the freaky little village of Little Ashbury, I did have to wonder what I would find with this David Harrison aka Simon Roper.

I didn't have to wait long. I called him on the number Stark had provided. The man who answered was gruff. His voice sounded as though he smoked fifty a day. Roper had been thirty-five when he had filmed Hell, so he was now in his mid-sixties. He had introduced himself as David Harrison on the phone and I had said the words that Stark had told me to speak:

"Hello, my name is Zoe Parish. Joan Stark sent me. The Shadow Man still walks the Ghostwood."

There was a pause. A rasping sigh at the other end of the line before Roper told me to drive to Lincoln and meet him at the Adam & Eve pub at 3pm that afternoon. And so, I did as I was instructed. He also told me that if he saw I was with anyone else then there would be trouble.

The Adam & Eve Tavern was an old building that had been painted over in white some time ago. It was reportedly one of the oldest pubs in the city, having been built at some point during the 1700’s.

The flat face of the front of the building rose, triangular, to a point. On it’s left side it tapered down to a smaller, extended section of the pub. Another add-on lay on its right-hand side and a drive, leading to the beer garden, ran down its right-hand side.

It was raining. And when I say raining, I really mean raining. The type that's relentless. The type you can drown in. Stood outside the pub, underneath a black umbrella, was a man in a raincoat. He had short, untidy white hair, a neatly trimmed white beard, almost-grey eyes and a deeply lined face that told me he had seen more than his fair share of heartache in his time. But it was the left side of his face that left the mark on me. The left side of his face was partially melted. Not badly, but clearly, he'd been caught in a fire at some point.

And my mind went back to his alleged trip into Hell as he extended his hand to greet me...

This was a turning point for me.

END REPORT

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Horizon: File 014 (A Glimmer of Hope)

BEGIN REPORT

FILE 014: A GLIMMER OF HOPE

I slept. On the sofa. But as soon as the sun came up I was up as well. Stark cooked bacon and eggs and made me a massive mug of coffee - white ceramic mug with "God Says Just Smoke" in huge, black letters plastered on it. She was an interesting woman. She clearly knew more than she ever told me, and she definitely wasn't just here as a vicar, but she was good enough to answer a few questions about Horizon and what had happened to Eleanor.

She had apologised profusely to me with regards to Eleanor, but she had suspected that something wasn't quite right. She told me that something had used my daughters image to get to me. I asked her why the something was interested in me, and she said that I probably had something that it wanted. That in taking Eleanor it had learnt something or it had taken Eleanor as a way to get to me.

I mean...what?! I had no idea. I had nothing. My life was boring. I had nothing of any interest to anyone at all. I was normal. Ordinary. Stark told me that it'd be something I probably didn't even realise and to search deeper. But my thoughts had turned back to my daughter. She reassured me that Eleanor was probably still alive because the thing would be able to use her as leverage against me. So there was that at least. But then I thought of my poor little girl being stuck out there in the darkness, scared and alone...

Stark had admonished herself for her slip ups. She told me she'd had too many of them just recently. That the thing had used her to get to me. She told me that the Ghostwood was a hive of supernatural activity - one reason it had gained that name - and the thing had honed in on her.

But I didn't care about the hows and the wheres and the whys. I just needed to know how I could get Eleanor back. So I asked her more about Horizon. She told me that they were founded a few decades back in an attempt to investigate the unknown. The supernatural. They had a firm hold over a number of things, but they had largely stayed away from her. And she also told me that if they didn't want to be found, then they most certainly wouldn't be found.

But then Stark, that twinkle in her eyes, had gone into her purse and pulled out a slip of crumpled paper. She told me that she had heard of those who had left Horizon. Most had disappeared. Possibly gained new identities, but that she had the contact details of one of them who had left. She had met with him once, a long time ago, when she was dealing with a case. He had given her his name and number.

I looked at the faded writing on the paper - David Harrison followed by a number. She told me it was his new identity and that his real name was Simon Roper - the same sodding guy who had filmed the video in Hell!

Okay, I must point out that I'm still at Viking Woods. And there's a light heading towards me. A torchlight. It could be a dog walker I suppose, but if you don't hear from me again then you know that they've got me. Damn it!

END REPORT

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Horizon: File 013 (Ashes)

BEGIN REPORT

FILE 013: ASHES

I've contemplated it. I really have. Contemplated going back to Little Ashbury. I know that I'd be relatively safe with Stark, but that would be going backwards. I need to move forwards. So that's why I'm currently parked up near Viking Wood again. Yep, Viking Wood. I figure it's the last place they'd think to look for me.

So, the vicarage...

I'd made my way outside the building. It had been raining and I slipped on the wet doorstep, falling flat on my face, but I didn't stop moving. I scrambled along the floor for a few metres until I felt far enough away to take a breather. Turning around I looked up to see the dark silhouette of the building against the dimly lit streetlights. The silence was palpable. I wasn't sure what to do. Stark had entered that room clearly ready to do battle with whatever had attacked me, but now there came no sound whatsoever.

And then the door swung open and out stepped Eleanor. Her face was covered in ash and soot. Her once-friendly face fixed into a ferocious frown. Her hair was wet and hung lankly either side of her face and her arms hung limply at her side, the fingers on both of her hands bent and curved into claws.

I whispered her name into the rain, but the thing that was wearing my daughters face didn't respond. It continued to walk slowly towards me. When I shouted out for Stark, the Eleanor-thing twisted her face into a sneer. The streetlights winked out leaving us both in total darkness. I caught a little flash of the figure as she advanced on me, but it wasn't Eleanor anymore. It was the taller female form again. I caught a glimpse of silver hair and the blue dress. Later I'd realise that the figure was the same silver-haired, blue-dressed woman I'd see on the Hell video. But right now I didn't give a fuck. I just wanted to get out of there.

I turned to run. There came an unearthly, hollow shriek from behind me and something grabbed my ankle. I twisted out of its gripped, turned back and saw the shape of the woman divide in two. The only way I can describe it is that her body suddenly turned to ash, exploded in a cloud and then reformed into two separate figures. Visibility was shit in the dark, but in the occasional bit of natural light provided by the sky I could see that they were faceless. Grey and tall and thin. They walked like something that didn't belong in this world. Like their legs weren't working quite right.

Fear took over and I got to my feet and ran. I made it across the graveyard when I turned to look at them. They were moving slowly but they were still coming. Fucking hell. It was probably the most terrified I'd been in my life after Eleanor had gone missing. I was about to turn and keep running past the church and into the village - into civilisation - when two shots rang out. Two actual sodding shots from a gun. I covered my ears and when I looked back the two figures had exploded, particles of them hanging in the air, swirling and churning around almost as if they were waiting for orders on whether to reconvene again.

I turned to see Stark standing next to her verger, Miss Johnston. Miss Johnston was holding a shotgun. Stark was covered in the same soot that had been smeared across the things face. She muttered some words under her breath, held up the cross and the two clouds of ash merged as one and then spun off into the night sky like some kind of hurricane from the depths of Hell.

And that's when I finally demanded some answers from the Reverend Joan Stark.

END REPORT

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Horizon: File 012 (My Little Nightmare)

BEGIN REPORT

FILE 012: MY LITTLE NIGHTMARE


Coffee at the ready. Make sure you've got all your lights turned on.

So, in the moment that I turned around I knew that it wasn't my daughter that Joan Stark had found walking out of the woods. It couldn't be my daughter. This was something else.

I turned to face whatever stood behind me just as the ice-cold fingertips of the "thing" touched the base of my exposed neck. What stood there was a shadow. That's all I can describe it as. Female in shape but taller than Eleanor. Slim and lithe with a the outline of a dress flowing around it. But when I shone my torch light on its face I caught the glimpse of the pale, familiar looks of my Eleanor.

The thing leered at me, with Eleanor's eyes, and jerked forward unnaturally. I had gasped, stepped back and dropped my phone. The light from the torch spread out to partially illuminate the room and I watched as the shadowy woman expanded, spreading out through all the free spaces around her, creeping across the walls and the corners. Filling the room. And there was a sound. Something I'll always struggle to forget. Like a moaning sound. A deep, groaning filled with pain and anguish getting louder and louder the bigger the shadow became. I had been paralysed with fear. Unable to get up.

Until the door had burst open and Joan Stark and flown in wearing a pink, fluffy dressing gown and holding a wooden cross in her hands. The lights in the hallway had all gone out. The place was in pitch darkness. But Stark had hauled me to my feet and told me in much more colourful language to get out of the building. I barely had any courage to protest so had stumbled to my feet and escaped the room, leaving her to face whatever this thing was.

The entire vicarage had been thrown into darkness. I could barely see to make my way down the stairs and to the front door. All the time I could hear the unearthly moaning of the creature up in the spare bedroom. It was only whe-----

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

Damn it. I'm on the road again. Something put a signal blocker on my connection so I'm travelling out of the area. I'll find somewhere to hole up and then I'll finish this bloody nightmare of an event.


END REPORT

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby


All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

Horizon: File 011 (Fear of the Dark)

BEGIN REPORT

FILE 011: FEAR OF THE DARK

Why does the dark scare us so much? Why are we so afraid of it? Most ghost stories are usually told under the cover of darkness. Told at night around campfires or around the glow of a fire. When we watch a horror film we turn the lights off. We draw the curtains. We try our best to keep the sun away so we can feel the fear of the dark. We enjoy being scared of the dark. But that night at the vicarage in Little Ashbury...all I wanted was the sun to rise.

And I believe that the night is a living thing. It has so much control over us all. Over our emotions and how we act. Burglars break into your house during the night. Robberies are committed during the night. It's a cloak. A disguise. A shroud that evil uses and operates under.

And it's also something that the thing that claimed to be my daughter used on us.

You'll be happy to know that I've found myself on a caravan park. Paid cash in hand and I'm now all cosy with some proper coffee, a bit of toast and some old comedies playing on the TV. It's not home, but it feels a little closer to it, although I'm not safe. I mustn't be lulled into a false sense of security, but I needed somewhere that felt safe while I recounted this one to you.

So the verger, Miss Johnston, had wished us a goodnight. Stark had given me a brandy to help me get to sleep. I'd pressed her as much as I dare. There was something there, I knew it. I straight out asked her if she knew what Horizon was. 

She said she knew enough and would only tell me that they were an organisation that she tried best to stay away from. The woods that Stark watched over in between sermons at the church were on their radar, but they left her alone. Mostly. I pressed for more information, but she told me it was best not to pry any further and that I should get some sleep. With a clear head we'd be able to discuss further.

So I slept. On the floor beside the double bed in the spare room. The room that Eleanor had been put up in.

It had been around three or four in the morning when I'd awoken. There was a streetlight not far from the window of the spare bedroom. I'd noted it because when I went to sleep it had cast the room in an eerie, pale light. But now the room was enveloped in nothing but ink-black darkness. Instinctively I went to my phone and switched on the torch light, sitting up to check on Eleanor.

She wasn't there.

Naturally I started to panic, threw back the covers, and scrambled around the bed to look for any sign of her. She had gone. And my fears slipped back to losing her once again. I'd only just found her. I couldn't lose her again. It was then that I felt something I had never felt before and prayed I would never feel again. The sense of something in the room. A creeping, slithering feeling of dread climbed up my spine and wrapped its arms around me in the worlds most disturbing hug. I could feel something breathing on my neck. A shallow, rasping. On every exhale it let out a rattling whine. Whatever it was, it wasn't Eleanor.

And then I heard her laugh. I heard my little girl laugh. And the laugh was coming from the same place as the breathing. With a deep breath I closed my eyes and turned around to face whatever was in the room with us.

Okay. I need something stronger. Something stiffer. This is messed up. I'll be back.

END REPORT

Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review.