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  1. #61

    Double Godlike!

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    Default Hmmmm.

    Not sure this next one is not a bit horrid for the Writers Club.
    bloggoth

    If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
    John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

  2. #62

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    Default A Dark History

    She had been a widow for some years and wanted to move to be near her children and grandchildren but it was a very expensive area compared to where she was currently living. She was prepared to go downmarket a bit but, even so, there was nothing she could afford that she really wanted to live in for the rest of her active life.

    After looking for six months she was on the verge of giving up. Then she was contacted by an estate agent with details of a place that looked rather nice at an affordable price. Of course there is always a catch and she soon found out what it was. The price was so low because of its history, it was that house where the so-called Dorset Ripper had murdered two random female victims. All the evidence suggested he had planned to murder many more but a lucky escape by his next target had led to his arrest and trial.

    Did she really want to live in a place where such horrific things had happened? On the other hand, could she turn down the chance of a house that was exactly what she had been looking for at a price she could afford? It was going for at least 20% less than comparable properties in the area. It was a difficult decision but, in the end, she decided she had to be practical. After all, when you consider the history of the UK, there is probably not a square mile where something horrible hasn’t happened. Many buildings have seen tragedy and suffering of some sort and just because something was headline news didn’t make it any the worse. It wasn’t as though she believed in stuff like ghosts or bad Karma and was pretty sure she would not be fretting about the house’s history. More importantly, the murderer would not be revisiting his old house at any time, having committed suicide in prison. She moved in about 3 months later and did not regret it. It really was a nice place and, once people had stopped mentioning it, the house’s history wasn’t something she thought about much. She was going to have a nice retirement with plenty of time to spend with her grand children.

    About a year later she decided to have a few renovations done. While it was in generally good condition, there were a few things about the decor that were not to her taste. She didn’t have a lot of money to spend and wanted to get things right the first time so she would decide exactly what she wanted before getting in the decorators. The first thing to look at was that incongruously cheap fitted wardrobe in the bedroom. Maybe she could save money by pulling it out herself; her son would help if necessary, she gave him enough free child care after all. It briefly crossed her mind that she could find knives or some other horrible tools, but that was daft, the police would have done full searches of the property for evidence. It was pretty easy. The thing was chipboard and was soon lying outside the back door for her son to take to the dump. Just a few screw holes to fix in the wall and that was it, maybe she wouldn’t need to pay a decorator to sort the bedroom.

    There weren’t any torture instruments either, that was a relief. All she found was a piece of paper. She turned it over and it was a child’s painting. Nothing sinister there, probably left by the people who owned the house before the Dorset Ripper, they had been a normal family apparently. The child had scrawled “Teddy in the cellar” underneath. Despite the picture’s immaturity she recognised the end of the cellar beneath the house. She had never taken more than a cursory look down there before and could not resist checking it out. There was a small alcove at the top as in the picture and when she shone the torch inside it was there, a small furry teddy bear.

    She stood on tiptoe, reached in and tried to pull it out but It didn’t move far as it had a piece of wire around it. She yanked on the wire and yanked again, then suddenly fell vertically without warning. The wire had been a release mechanism to a trapdoor. The drop and the sharp metal spikes were fatal.

    Before she went she saw the message painted on the wall above. “If you are reading this you will know I am the best. No others have killed after they have gone as I have”
    Last edited by xoggoth; 16th September 2017 at 09:29.
    bloggoth

    If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
    John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

  3. #63

    Double Godlike!

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    Default Things are not as they seem

    We’ve always had them in the news from time to time, those daft stories about flying saucers and alien sightings. Utter drivel as far as Ellen was concerned; they probably just helped to fill a few column inches when there was nothing more normal, like terrorist attacks, to fill the news reports with. The beginning of this year had been unusual in the sheer number of such sightings, something that had become news in itself. A few supposed flying saucers now and then was normal but hundreds of sightings in a part of South East England in barely more than a month was unprecedented and it was now making the national news.

    It wasn’t just flying objects either. There were reports of strange movements in some areas of the countryside. Several people had reported seeing odd visual distortions across areas of the landscape. Ellen had watched a TV interview in which one described his experience in graphic detail. He had been sitting on a bench enjoying the view over a wooded country park, when it was as though an enormous distorting lens had drifted over the scene. Trees altered their positions and even disappeared. Even more oddly, he had seen part of a nearby old mansion appear in front of the trees although it was actually on the other side of the hill and could not possibly have been visible from where he sat.

    The chap seemed normal and sincere, and, if he was lying, he was certainly a darn good actor but it had to be rubbish. Whether or not he was complicit in it, it just had to be some sort of hoax. Anyway, there could be more serious things going on. A number of people, of both sexes and various ages, had been reported missing in the area. Was there someone out there who was abducting strangers for some unknown reason? That was something she really did worry about and she would be careful to stay in well lit places with people around if she went out.

    Oh well, today was not a day to worry about such things. It was a gloriously sunny and warm morning for September, a big change from the last few days, time to get out and tidy her garden before autumn covered it in leaves. She spent a couple of hours out there and loved it as usual. The only thing she didn’t like was that it was garden spider season and they were getting quite big. She had rather a phobia about spiders and checked carefully for any webs before tackling the bushes with her shears. Fortunately, it wasn’t too bad. There was just one place that had a large web with a garden spider in it and she would leave trimming that bush until later in the year when the little pest had gone. A quick shower, a cup of tea and then she headed off to town to do some shopping with an old friend.

    The sun was still shining as she arrived back in the village and maybe it was the low sun in her eyes that confused her slightly. Something seemed a little strange about the road, it seemed shorter and the bend was less sharp. Maybe that glass of wine with her lunch had been a bit too big. She parked in the drive and got out of the car, pulling out her bags and her new dress. When she looked up she was again struck by a feeling that something was a bit odd. The positioning of the plant pots on the patio did not seem to be quite as normal and the front door seemed a little dark. Maybe it just needed cleaning. She opened the front door and stepped into the hallway. What the hell? Nothing in here looked right. The edges of the walls and furniture were rounded and ill defined. She turned to face the door and over there was her house. Somehow she must have gone down the adjacent road and ended up on the common. But, but she had driven down HER road, parked in HER drive, she knew she had. Then the strange hallway turned dark and she felt something grasp her body.

    Spiders are clever little creatures in their way, they build invisible snares over what flies see as harmless spaces. Not as clever as the new predators of Earth, who could generate holographic images to disguise their traps as familiar places to lure men in.

    What she had thought was her house and front garden began to shift and flicker. Suddenly it disappeared, revealing the green grass and weeds of the neglected common and the huge spider-like creature that had her in its clutches.
    Last edited by xoggoth; 15th September 2017 at 09:16.
    bloggoth

    If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
    John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

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