Trust (Part 40)

Candle, Meditation, Hand, Keep, Heat, Confidence, Rest

Brook wiped blood from his lips and looked out at the rolling storm coming over the countryside. He nursed the green bottle in his hands and pressed the side of his face against his bedroom window. He shut his eyes, focusing on the sound of the rain and somewhere far in the distance the dimming signal of his blood mixed with Fern’s.

He concentrated and followed the red line that bonded them together. In his mind’s eye he flew over patchworks of farmland, stark trees, houses and other buildings. He realised, he was following the road back the way the taxi had first brought them. Then miles away, he spotted a half-hidden turn off and jutting out from the tops of the trees were roof tiles.

His eyes snapped open, his head banging gently against the window. She was there. Wherever that house was, she was there and with other vampires. Brook looked down at the bottle and took another sip from the dusty mouth. He winced, but swallowed anyway because he had no other choice then to drink the old blood.

He put the bottle between his legs and looked out again. He had pulled a chair to the window and only the flicking light of the black liquorice scented candled filled the room. He opened the window, latching it and allowing the wind to drive the rain inside. He smelt the air, but couldn’t catch any more of Fern’s scent. Instead came the smell of farm animals, wet earth and turning autumn trees.

‘I’m not going after her,’ he muttered to the wind, ‘she made her choice.’

Brook trailed his fingers up and down the neck of the bottle. The wind howled in response and splatted some rain on his clean jeans. He shook his head and took a mouthful of cold blood. It was her choice, he repeated.

Swallowing, he shut the window and the curtains. Getting up, he put the CD player on and looked through the stacked CDs. Nothing interested him, so he choice an old Iron Maiden album and stuck that on. As the soft notes cascaded upwards, he grabbed his cigs. Juggling the bottle and his lighter he lit up and sank into his bed.

Blowing the first mouthful of smoke out, he looked up at the ceiling. Once he remembered there’s been posters and photos up there. He shut his eyes and thought about the eighties rock bands he liked. Then the faces of family and friends, joining those bands and staring back at him.

He swirled the bottle and thought about all those nights when as a lonely teenage he’d get drunk. How many times had his parents and the staff caught him stealing or throwing up? He took a drink then other, talking himself into believing it was wine or whisky. He dragged on the cig and shut his eyes. He let himself drifted back and for a few moments he could hear the distant voices of his parents.

What where they saying? Was it about his behaviour again? About his going off with Rose the cleaner’s daughter? The rumour of this ‘lurking’ male friend of his?

He shook his head, toasted the dead and finished the bottle off. Blood gathered at the corners of his mouth and dripped down. He didn’t bother to wipe it away this time. He placed the bottle on the bedside table, feeling the sway of the blood and the music in his veins. He flicked ash and took two long breaths to finish the cig off.

‘Fuck you, Fern,’ he hissed.

He stubbed the cig out and flung himself across his bed.

‘I knew I couldn’t trust you. That Daican probably got you…yeah, he had eyes for you the second he saw you….why did I even bother?’ he muttered.

Rolling over, he looked at the blank wall next to his bed. Something had been scratched into the wall and he reached over and traced it with his finger. Seconds later, he completed the heart shape and moved to touch the two letters that had once been at the centre.

To Be Continued…

Lost In Thought

He wondered what it was like to be God looking down on everyone from the multi-coloured galaxy. He looked at the tall candle pillars on the deep church window sills and saw the flames flicking in a draft. Was God even interesting in what was going on down here? He thought, did he listen to the prayers of the world or did he just let the angels deal with those?

He tried to hear what the vicar was saying as they all bowed their heads together, but he just couldn’t concentrate. He believed that could be true, so was God creating other Earths then? And what if some of those new Earths were the same as this one? And right now, what if there was a man just like himself sit in a church pertaining to be praying when really he was wondering about the possible existence of other earths and humans?

Trust (Part 32)


Fern swallowed and nearly purred in delight. The blood was so good, it was making all her thoughts and emotions disappear. Her mind had never felt so clear before. Dimly, she became aware of Brook trying to pull her away and shouting at her. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but decided to ignore him.

He’s the reason why you’ve never been able to feed probably, the vampire voice hissed within her.

Fern nodded slightly in response and sucked harder at the taxi driver’s neck. She could feel his life ending. A white mist seemed to be flowing around them and she felt herself drifting away. Her eyes and body felt so heavy and full of rich blood. A sharp scream shook her out of a doze.

Is that me? she questioned before releasing it was the vampire inside of her.

Hot pain was cutting into her lower back and sinking down into her skin. Red flashes blinded her and as the pain grew deeper, she pulled her fangs and mouth away from the man and twisted around.

Brook was knelt next to her, holding a bright silver object in gloved hands. Steam and a thin trail of red were coming off the cross. Fern hissed, raised an arm over her eyes and tried to back away from Brook. He waved it in her face, till her vision went blurry and she had to turn her head.

‘You’ve only got yourself to blame,’ Brook snapped, ‘Now, get up!’

Still hissing at him and avoiding the cross, Fern got to her feet. Slowly, Brook made her shuffle out of the room and into the hallway. From there, they walked right down to the kitchen and through a side door into a utility room. Fern kept as much distance as possible from Brook and the cross, her eyes shooting all over the place. Her mind was a spinning wheel of thoughts, mostly about trying to escape and get back to finishing the man off. She could still hear his heartbeat.

Brook opened a side door and backed Fern into the double garage.

‘Now you stay in here and come back to your senses,’ Brook said.

Fern growled and fisted her hands.

‘I already made sure you couldn’t get out,’ Brook added.

With quick speed, he darted out of the door and locked it behind him. Pressing his back to the cool wood he listened to Fern howling and thumping around the garage. The sliver crosses hung on the doors and walls keeping her at bay. He listened to her for a few moments then went back into the parlour.

The taxi driver’s heartbeat was so faint, Brook could hardly here it. Sinking down beside him, Brook frowned and debated what to do, whilst in the background Fern continued to howl.

‘I could turn you,’ Brook muttered, ‘but I’ve got far too much to handle right now.’

As if to confirm this, a monstrous scream erupted from the garage, causing Brook to look through the half-open door and into the hallway.

A soft sighing drew him back as the ripped quietness settled back and Brook watched the taxi driver die. His final breath vanished into the air and his strand of fate was cut. Brook pressed his still gloved hands into face and breathed deeply. He rubbed his head and dropping his hands into his lap, listened to the sudden emptiness.

‘Brook?’ a soft, but untoned menacing voice called.

He shook his head and got to his feet.

‘Brook? Please let me out,’ Fern spoke in that same voice then a burst of wicked laughter.

Ignoring her, Brook started going through the taxi driver’s pockets, keeping the gloves on.

‘I’m so scared and alone. Please?’ her voice teased.

Brook pulled out an old worn wallet and found some folded notes, two debit cards, a number of shop loyalty cards and a half torn photo of two young girls. Putting that on the coffee table, he went back and dug out the keys to the taxi. Then in the jacket he found; two folded letters shouting for urgent payments on house bills, an almost empty packet of mints and a full carton of cigarettes, though not a brand he liked.

Adding those to the wallet, Brook took the keys and headed to the front door. Opening it, he listened to Fern calling him like a siren to a sailor. It sounded so much like her voice and yet an evilness lay under every word. Brook stepped outside, the cold air nice against his warm skin, he hurried to the taxi and unlocked it. Rummaging inside the front car, he came out with two cloth money bags, a mobile phone, some CDs, a metal locked box which he found in the glove compartment, a road atlas, the satnav and cables.

Brook took all that inside and put it on the coffee table with the other items. Heading outside again, he paused in the doorway to listen to a light scratching sound. Had Fern figured out a way to escape? The sound faded, almost as if the person or animal knew he’d heard them. Growling, Brook went back to the connecting garage door and knocked on it.

‘Fern? What are you doing in there?’

‘Nothing, lover,’ Fern uttered back and Brook imaged her lips pressed against the bottom of the door and her forcing the words through the gap.

‘Lover?’ he questioned, ‘I know it’s not really you…’

The vampire laughed loudly and footsteps sounded a spinning dance away from the door.

‘I have to go and clean up your mess. Behave till I get back.’

‘I can’t promise, lover. But hurry back anyway. I’m naked and desperate for your touch. Brook, I want you so badly…’ soft moans and lip smacks followed.

Brook got a sharp image of Fern touching herself and quickly shook it away. He turned and went back to the front door. Outside again, his head started to clear and he searched the rest of the taxi. There was nothing in the backseats, but in the boot he found a box of condoms, a pair of furry handcuffs, a rain coat, two large umbrellas, a map of Europe, a first aid box and a handbag.

Grabbing everything, he went back inside and added to the growing collection on the parlour table. Putting the keys into his pocket, he picked up the taxi driver by the ankles and dragged the body out of the house.

‘What you going to do with him?’ Fern’s voice called out, ‘make him one of us?’

‘No!’ Brook yelled back, ‘it’s too late. You saw to that!’

Fern laughed, a rolling belly sound which didn’t stop even though it should have done.

Brook yanked the shoulders and head out of the doorway then slammed the door shut, cutting off the never ending laugh. He hauled the body to the taxi and shoved it into the back seat. He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

To Be Continued…

Trust (Part 31)

The taxi lights tried to shine through the thick, tall hedges that lined the countryside lane, but failed to penetrate them. The car trundled along cobblestones, bouncing all the passengers inside. Fern looked out at the sky, but couldn’t see anything but darkness. The dashboard clock said it was almost two in the morning. Glancing at the taxi driver, she watched his white knuckles flexing on the wheel. The man was really concentrating as if he thought he was in horror movie and something was about to jump out and kill him.

That idea caused her to turn to Brook, who had his head pressed against the cold and still slightly open window. His eyes were shut and he seemed lost in thought again.

‘We’re not going to kill him are we?’ Fern whispered.

‘No. But we’ll take some of his blood,’ Brook answered without opening his eyes, ‘then I’ll send him on his way.’

Fern frowned, but didn’t say anything as a large gated turn off appeared on her side.

The Satnav flashed an arrow towards the gate and the driver turned in.

‘I’ll open it,’ Brook said and got out of the taxi.

Fern sat back, watching him unlocking and opening the gate. The drive slowly drove through then waited for Brook to get back in.

‘There’s another one further up,’ Brook pointed at.

The driver nodded and drove for another few minutes through dark bumpy land.

‘Your family own all of this?’ Fern asked, having pressed her face to the window to look out.

‘Yeah,’ Brook responded, ‘I rent some of the back fields to another farmer and some of the side ones go to people who own horses or want to store stuff. Extra money and its’ not as if I’ve got any use for the land.’

‘Your parents had a farm?’ Fern questioned.


She turned from him as the car slowly arrived at another gate. Brook got out, opened it and waved the taxi driver through. He got back in again and quietened Fern’s next questions with a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. He kept their lips together for the next few moments, as the taxi drove up to a large converted farmhouse and out buildings.

When he let her go, Brook slide from the car and opened the driver’s door, ‘get the stuff out and into the hallway.’

The driver nodded and got out.

Fern undid her seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out into the cool countryside air. She sniffed and smelt damp soil, plants, animals and smoke; gone was the salty breeze and sound of the sea. I’m going to miss it, she thought. She stretched, rubbed her face and walked to the front of the taxi.

The house loomed over her, abandoned and unwelcoming. She counted three floors then a fourth which looked like a converted attic. Large, curtained windows looked out of all floors like a blind man’s eyes questioning her. Fern noticed the massive white stones making up the house’s front wall and the fact there was no front porch or steps leading to the door and it was just flushed with the ground and the top foundations. Two large plant pots holding fruit bushes stood to either side of the door and there was a wire rack for boots next to the one on the right.

Brook had gone to the front door, opened it and stepped inside. A light came on and shone out of the door and Fern saw Brook disappearing into a room his left. She shuffled her feet, half-temped to go around the side of the house and find out how big the place was. However, the taxi driver walked past carrying her bags and she changed her mind.

Fern went to the car’s boot and pulled out some of the lighter thing. She took them inside the hallway and had to pause to admire everything. The walls were brick, just like the outside, but a lot smoother. There was a large hallway table to her right which was covered by a cream table cloth and held a phone, some framed photos, a bowl with keys in it and a bible. A rug covered the wooden floorboards and ran down towards a large dark wooden staircase and a closed door. Fern counted four doors to her right and three to her left.

The taxi driver came out of the first room to her left and she stepped to the side to let him pass. She couldn’t help but notice how his face looked frozen, almost zombie like. She watched him go back to the car and grab some other bags. She turned away and stepped inside the room.

Brook was piling up her stuff on a deep, dark red coloured sofa which sat in the middle of the room facing its twin across a cherry coffee table. Fern put her stuff down and walked around the room. A large fire place took up most of the back wall, the mantel above draped with a fake Christmas style green wreath which added a blast of colour to the dark room. Also on the mantel were a few photos of a couple’s –Brook’s parents? – wedding, a baby girl, a boy child-Brook ?- and a very old photo of what the farmhouse originally looked like.

‘Does the rest of the house look like this?’ Fern asked as she swept her fingers over the top of the other sofa.

‘No,’ Brook replied, ‘it’s the parlour and hardly used.’

Fern frowned and moved around the sofa as the taxi driver walked in and put some more bags down. He then hurried around again as Brook began adding those things to the pile.

‘It’s meant to be used by guests when they first arrive and as an overflow for parties. My parents never used it, but couldn’t come up with anything else to do with it,’ Brook explained.

Fern looked up at the ceiling and saw a sliver chandelier with dangling white crystal drops. The walls were covered in white wallpaper which had a red velvet fler design on. The carpet was a dark red plush, deep pile and hardly worn. Fern sat on the edge of the sofa and watched the taxi driver bringing in the last of her things.

The man stood awkwardly and out of place beside the sofa and Fern wondered if she looked the same. Feeling tried from all the traveling, she rested back on the sofa, sprawling out and sinking down. She watched Brook pushing her suitcases against the other sofa then turning to the man.

‘One last thing, before we pay you,’ Brook said.

The man just shrugged and held out his wrist.

Brook moved forward, wrapping his fingers around the man’s lower arm. He lowered his head and Fern watched Brook open his mouth, releasing his fangs. She smelt the blood before her eyes had sent the image of Brook biting down into a vein. She stopped up, unable to resist the lure of it and went over to them.

She thought about pushing Brook out of the way and taking the man all for herself. She paused at that thought, caught up between vampire mind and human. It was Brook loudly gulping and breathing, that drew her back. Fern saw him offering her the still bleeding wrist and eagerly she switched places with him.

Fern pressed her lips over the bite marks and sucked hard. Blood danced on her tongue, rich and salty. She swallowed and felt the hungry raising faster in her stomach. Two heartbeats echoed in her ears and for a few seconds all she could think about blood.

‘Don’t take too much,’ Brook hissed from behind her.

She ignored him and carried on. A voice in the back of her head whispered, this man is nothing but food, your survival.

Fern swallowed and almost hummed in delight. The warm blood was soaking though and tingling on the way down. She wanted, no, she needed more. She sank her teeth in harder and drew more blood. The man moaned and swayed, but stayed compliant.

‘That’s enough,’ Brook stated and grabbed her shoulder.

Fern tried to give a little shake of her head to show him it wasn’t, but Brook was already pulling her off. Instead of easing, Fern planted her feet more firmly into the carpet and lend harder into the taxi driver. She felt Brook’s hand tightening and pulling harder.

I’m much more stronger now, the vampire voice spoke.

I won’t let you kill him!  Brook shouted inside Fern’s head.

Why does it matter? We’ve killed before, that same voice stated.

We shouldn’t. It makes surviving more difficult, Book explained, then aloud, ‘Fern stop!’

She opened her eyes and glanced at him, understanding but not able to obey. Blood filled her mouth, feeding a hunger that had felt unknown for so long.

Brook took his hand off her shoulder and wrapped both his arms around her stomach. He yanked her away, lifting and spinning her like a dancing partner as he did so. Fern cried out and wildly waved her arms. Brook shoved her down onto the carpet, but then had to sit on her to stop her from scrambling up and feasting again.

There was a loud thud and they both looked over to see the taxi driver slumped on the floor. He was face down and breathing shallowly, blood flowing from his wrist.

‘Look what you’ve done! He’s going to have to stay here now!’ Brook yelled.

Fern didn’t reply, but threw herself around under him, making loud animal like cries and growls.

‘And you gave into your vampire side,’ Brook added, ‘this is what you become when you lose control, an animal! We can’t live like that anymore.’

Fern growled menacingly and scratched at the carpet. Brook lent over and grabbed her hands, bring his face close to her’s as he did so. Fern strained upwards and tried to bite him. Brook pulled his head up just in time, his eyes glancing at the ceiling before going back down to her.

‘You have to fight the vampire,’ Brook said firmly, ‘you mustn’t give in. You can’t let the power consume you, Fern. Do you hear?’

She stopped struggling and looked at him with a determined expression on her face. Her body relaxed under him and Brook eased off some of the pressure. He caught a flash of a smile on Fern’s lips then she flipped him over and flew to the taxi driver. Brook hit the sofa and suitcases, pain ebbing through his back and legs. Quickly, he scrambled over to them, but Fern had her fangs buried in the man’s neck, draining him.


To Be Continued…

Trust (part 28)

Fern waited for him to come back then they left. Brook had changed into clean jeans and a old rock band t-shirt. Fern stared at the long blocky name as they got the elevator down. She couldn’t recall ever hearing of them and decided they must be foreign or else hadn’t been around for very long. She lent against the cold metal walls and played with the strap of her handbag. Inside she could feel her phone weighing heavily with the questioning texts and calls. No one would mind if she replied, would they?

‘It’s better to stay dead now,’ Brook spoke, breaking her thoughts.

‘Huh?’ she asked looking up.

‘You were thinking about your phone. Don’t reply. In fact get rid of it. Leave it at your bedsit. You really don’t need one,’ Brook stated.

Fern nodded, but wasn’t sure she could go through with it.

The elevated jumped to a stop and pinged as the doors opened. They got out, Brook leading the way to the doors. He opened one and let Fern walk through before closing it. The rain was still holding off and the smell of freshly cut grass mingled with an ocean breeze.

‘Which direction?’ Brook asked.

Fern thought, then replied, ‘do you remember where you picked me up from the night you turned me?’

‘Just about…’

‘Let’s a get a taxi actually,’ she cut in suddenly, ‘I’ve got my purse and there’s more money at my flat. Do you know the nearest place to get one from?’ The village?’

‘No. They don’t have one there, but I think the next one does,’ Brook responded.

‘Well, let’s get walking.’

She took Brook’s hand they walked through the woodland, the village then into the next one. They stayed silent throughout and listened to the sounds of the late evening. To anyone who saw them, they looked like a young couple out for a walk. The second village was larger and unlike the first one, which Fern had gotten so use to, there were actually people driving or walking about. Brook took them straight to the taxi rank, shoving down Fern’s idea of finding some to fed off first.

Not here, he hissed inside her mind.

He opened the door to a little shack which advertised itself as a taxi station and went up to the desk. He ordered a taxi and received instructs from the operator to grab a seat. He sat down on a hard bench, which was really just a ledge and Fern joined him. They looked out of the window and watched the first drops of rain arriving.

A white car pulled up outside five minutes later and a horn beeped. They got up, walked out and into the back of the taxi. A very fat, middle-aged, going bald man turned to them and asked where they wanted to go.

Brook shot Fern a look and as she clicked on her seat belt, she gave him the address of her bedsit.

The taxi driver scratched his head, ‘that’s an hour and half way,’ he muttered.

‘I’ll pay you want ever it is and give you a nice tip,’ Fern said sweetly.

The driver tutted and began flipping through a small notebook.

‘We could just…get out,’ Brook growled.

Fern pulled a face and ignoring him, leaned over to the driver, ‘we’ll need you to bring us back too…’

‘Look, love, I don’t think I can.’

Fern cleaned her throat and stared deep into the taxi driver’s brown eyes as he turned around to face them.

‘You so can,’ she said softly, ‘you love long drives and don’t worry we won’t talk. You can listen to whatever music you want-’

Fern, Brook breathed into her mind, don’t break eye contact. Keep your mind clear and focus into his. Send your voice into his mind at the same time. Listen to what he wants to hear, answer the questions. Stay determined.

Fern squeezed his hand to show she understood then got back to it.

‘You really want to do this. You’ll earn lots of money…enough too…’ Fern trailed as she saw an image pop into her head, ‘buy your son that Christmas present he wants,’ she finished on shaky note.

‘I don’t know…’ the taxi driver uttered.

Fern breathed out heavily and slummed back against the seat. She pressed her hand to her growing headache. Images swirled before her of the taxi driver and his family.

‘Listen to me,’ Brook jumped in, ‘you really want to do this. You aren’t going to get anyone else in this car tonight. How can you go home empty handed again? What’s your wife going to say? How many times has she threated divorce now?’

The man’s mouth dropped open but he didn’t stay anything. His eyes were locked on Brook’s now and Brook continued down that route with more harsh words.

Fern felt her head exploding and rubbed her cheek and side of her forehead against the head rest of the car. Lights were popping before her eyes and Brook’s voice sounded so faint. She clutched his hand and tried to force the sick feeling in her stomach away.

The car started up moments later and Fern felt Brook turn her head towards him. She struggled to find the words to ask what had happened. Brook pressed his wrist to her lips and Fern felt a surge of hunger. She could hear blood pulsing, she licked her lips and tasted the salt of Brook’s skin.

Her fangs unsheathed and she sank them into his wrist. Blood touched her tongue and she fastened herself on to him and began sucking. Her headache cleared and she felt the car moving under her. Brook put his head to her’s and began murmuring soothing words into her hair.

What happened? Fern questioned in her now clear mind.

I’m not sure, you tried too hard? Sometimes, it can rebound on you, Brook answered, are you feeling better?

Yes, Fern answered and swallowed.

Brook eased his arm away and licked at the bite mark.

Fern sat up and looked at the taxi driver. His hands were relaxed on the leather wheel and his eyes were fixed on the road. Quiet music was coming from the radio, Fern could hear the beats of a ballad. She looked at the window but didn’t recognise the house lined street they were currently driving down.

‘Come here,’ Brook whispered.

Fern smiled and turned back to him. Brook slipped a finger under her chin and pulled her face close to his. He kissed her softly on the lips. His hand went to the back of her head, bring her further into him. Fern shifted across the seat and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him back, partly opening her mouth. Brook’s other hand pressed against her cheek and he ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip.

They kissed again and this time, Fern opened her mouth fully and let Brook slide his tongue in. She nestled against him and fell into the soft, yet swift movements of his tongue exploring her’s. She felt Brook moving his hands down her back and trying to bring her into his lap. There wasn’t enough room in the back of the taxi for that, so Fern got as close as possible.

Without giving it much thought, she swept her left hand down his chest and to the top of his jeans. Easily, she pressed her fingers against the zipper and felt a budge. Smiling against, Brook’s lips, she let out a moan and moved as best she could, to be on top of him. Brook complied with this move and slide down the inside of the car door.

Fern moaned again and began rubbing his manhood. Brook’s hips rose and he spread his legs. Ending the kiss, Fern knelt and undid his jeans. A soft moan escaped Brook’s lips which grew louder as Fern slipped her hand inside. With her breathing quickening, she massaged him and teased him. Brook put an arm over his eyes, blocking out the harsh streetlamps flashing by above them.

Fern slide her hand out and tugged down his jeans. Brook gave her a hand and repositioned himself. Fern give the taxi driver a quick glance. The man was still totally focused on the road, though he had turned the radio up at some point and now another power ballad singer was coming louder through the speakers. Turning back, Fern put her hands and head down between Brook’s legs. She heard him moan and felt him shiver. He put a hand to her head, mussing her hair then pressing down. Fern moved fluidly, trying to only concentrate on what she was doing.

She felt Brook moving under her as if he was trying to get more comfortable. There was no extra room for him to do that though. Fern put one of her hands to his hips to still him. He quietened down at her touch. She carried on for a few moments then Fern swept that hand upwards and under his t-shirt. She rubbed his chest and felt his rapid breathing. She stole a glance at him, but couldn’t see his thrown back head from her position.

Brook pulled her hand out and began kissing her fingers. He popped one into his mouth and began sucking on it. Fern’s concentration broke and she came up, gasping for air and moaning. Brook shifted up, came to her and kissed her deeply.

Fern then felt his hand fondling her boobs. She breathed into him and he broke the kiss. She licked her lips, feeling them wet and sticky. Brook tried to nuzzle into her neck, but couldn’t reach. Fern moved and they got back into the same positon before.

The car engine roared under them and Fern looked up and out the window. They were on a dual carriageway or motorway, she couldn’t really be sure as there were no streetlamps. Brook pulled her head down and kissed her, making her forget all about it. She felt his hand heading down to her jeans and she moved her hips up to help him.

Brook tried and failed to undo her jeans’ button and zip one handed. Giggling, Fern planted her knees either side of him and sat back. With both hands, Brook undid her jeans and they both pulled them down. Fern settled on top of him again and rubbed her hips against his. She moaned in his ear and Brook began kissing her neck.

‘I really want to…’ Fern gasped into his ear.

‘How badly?’ Brook growled back.

‘So, badly,’ she panted.

Brook squeezed her bottom and tugged down her panties.

‘Do you think he’ll notice?’ Fern whispered.

‘No and even if he does, I’m going to wipe his mind later.’

Fern nodded and helped Brook take her panties and jeans off. She then helped him remove his and climbed back on top. They kissed a few more times before Brook slide inside of her and Fern cried loudly in a mix of pleasure and pain. He shoved his tongue down her throat, silencing her whilst he dug his fingers into the back of her head. Fern broke away, desperately breathing. She rocked her hips against his, reminding herself not to suddenly sit up as the car roof was only inches above her.

Brook grabbed her hips and thrust upwards. Fern moaned loudly and shut her eyes tightly.

‘I can’t, I can’t,’ she breathed.

‘You can,’ Brook uttered back, putting more pressure inside of her.

Fern shook her head and made a loud oh noise. She felt a small spasm building between her legs the urge growing stronger. Brook began a fast pounding rhythm as streetlights appeared against the windows and shone inside the car in bright flashes. Fern blinked, dazed for a few moments. Brook slid his hands upwards and grabbed her boobs. Fern felt him pinching her and other spasm building.

She cried out wildly as the pleasure peaked. She squeezed down top of Brook, jamming his thighs with her knees. Fern went to throw her head back but Brook’s hand snagged into her hair and yanked her down into his chest. She cried in pain then became still on top of him as Brook shook underneath her.

Fern listened to his jagged breathing quietening and becoming as steady has her own. Brook’s fingers tangled loose of her hair before playing with the strands. Fern snuggled into his chest and felt herself dozing. Brook’s lips brushed her forehead and he tried to ease upwards. He wiggled underneath her and with a loud sigh, Fern sit up and shuffled back to the other seat.

Book swung his legs down and began searching for his clothes. He give Fern her’s then began putting on his things. Fern swept her hair back and cracked open the window. Cool night time air whistled in. She got dressed with a struggle before pressing her head to the cold glass. She felt Brook seeking out her hand and give it to him.

The outlines of trees and fields swept passed, they details blotted out by the motorway lamps. Fern watched them go by anyway, her mind empty of thoughts as pleasure still soared between her legs. Brook rested his cheek on her shoulder and curled their hands together.

She put her head on top of his and shut her eyes as the taxi indicted to change lanes and zoom further up the motorway.

To Be Continued…

Trust (Part 27)

Fern awoke in an empty cold bed. She rubbed her eyes and face, rolled over and for a few moments drifted back into sleep. The sound of a lawn mower roaring jerked her awake and she sat up quickly. Flinging the duvet away, she went to the window, but couldn’t see anything outside, other than a darkening grey sky. She went to the bedroom door and out into the living room, her thoughts still cloudy with sleep, but wondering where the sound was coming from.

She crossed the living room and opened the doors to the balcony. Looking out over the railing, she could see a large motored lawn mower driven by Brook who was cutting the grass in straight lines. She lent on the damp railing and watched him for a few minutes. The sky and air both seemed to threat more rain, but at least the wind had died down. She took in a few deep breath, smelling and tasting sea salt, car pollution and dead fish.

Fern went back inside, showered and got dressed. She searched through her bag for her phone and finding it, saw that she’d a few text messages and missed calls. She sat on the bed and scrolled through, but didn’t reply to any of them. Most were from her landlord, which worried her because they asked where had she gone and if she was coming back and did she know her rent was due now? The others were from the hospital, reminding her about appointments and a meeting with a nurse she had missed. Lastly, there were two texts and a miss call from the only friend she had stayed in contact with.

Fern sniffed, feeling a roller coaster of emotions breaking loose. She rested the phone in her lap and opened the text messages. The first was dated the night Brook give her the blood and the second was dated two days ago as was the phone call. Fern’s fingers pressed against the touch screen and the keyboard come up, tempting her further to reply back. She bit her lip and wondered what she’d even say.

From behind her came the sounds of the lawn mower. She got up and went back to the window. Brook was now cutting the large lawn that had once been marked for a swimming pool and tennis count. Dropping the curtains back, she put her phone on the bedside table and walked into the living room.

She picked up the photo of Brook and Jay from the bookshelf and looked at it. Brook hadn’t changed. His fiery red hair was shoulder length, his eyes violet, his plum lips frozen in a smile that raised his pointy cheek bones and chin. Jay had light brown hair to his cheeks, dark hazel eyes and a cheeky boy grinning face. He looked younger, but only by a couple of years. How long had Brook been a vampire when this photo was taken? If any? So, how old in human years then? And where is Jay now? She questioned.

Setting the photo back down, she went through the apartment quickly and quietly looking for clues. At first, she really didn’t know what she was searching for and just blamed it on the fact that she wanted something to do to take her mind off her phone. In the bottom draw of Brook’s bedside table, she found some photos and a red plastic wrist band. Though the writing was faded, she made out Brook’s and Jay’s names with love hearts either side.

The photos were of them and mostly taken outside the apartment or at the beach. She skimmed through but stopped at the last set. They were kissing. Faces close together and lips meeting. She went to the next and both boys had taken their tops off and were kissing deeper with their arms wrapped around each other. The third was a wide shot of them on the bed together, just in their underwear, holding and kissing each other.

Fern glanced at the bed and tried to decide if it was that same one. She couldn’t be sure but it was most likely. She looked at the photo again and another thought came into her head, who had taken these photos? The camera could be on a stand and timed, sure, but… She looked at the next one, with that thought tailing off. The photo showed Brook completely naked leaning against the wall in black and white. Fern looked closely; there was no mistaking his muscle body and distant looking face.

‘Somebody must have taken this one,’ she muttered.

The next one showed Jay posing in the same way then the six after showed the boys in different love making stages. Fern licked her lips and tried not to nibble them as the innocent photos of teenage boys turned into soft porn. When she reached the last one, she collected them all together and put them back in the draw again. Getting up, the images sticking with her, she looked at the window and saw Brook still on the lawn mower. The noise of the engine blocked all other sounds out as he drove under the window.

Thinking she had only a few minutes left, she went through the rest of the bedroom, but came up with nothing else. Going out, she studied the other two doors along the wall, either of which she had not opened nor seen Brook open. She went to the first door, turned the handle and pushed. The door swung open on silent hinges and she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. It was a bedroom very similar to their own, but less lived in.

The double bed was made, but hadn’t been used in ages, Fern could tell. She stepped in and after a quick look around, began opening the wardrobe and drawers. Everywhere was empty, but it all the surfaces had been cleaned recently. She could smell the faint whiff of disinfected and lemons. Checking everything was back in its place, she left and tried the next one room.

Putting a hand on the door knob and turning it, she felt a slight residence. She pushed against the door and wondered if there was something stuck behind it. She made a gap big enough to fit through then stepped sides into the room. Pausing, she listened to the sound of the lawn mow fading and stopping.

A spike of panic speared her and she hurriedly looked around the room. It was a mess and she could hardly see the carpet. There were piles of clothes and shoes just abandoned and dump everywhere. The double bed was a mass of pillows, sheets and blankets as if someone had slept there recently. The wardrobe was wide open with more things tumbling out of it’s doors. The chest of drawers and bedside tables were open too, there contents pulled out or shoved back in. There was a bookcase and CD rack next to the window and they had been ransacked too. Looking at the floor she saw, books, CDs, DVDs two electric guitars, a boxed keyboard, rolled up posters, notebooks, photo albums and loose photos.

Typical teenage boy’s room? She thought, or is this Brook’s room and he’s just super messy?

In the background she heard the elevator clinking down. Stealing another few seconds, she grabbed the closest notebook and flipped through it. It was a soft, blue cover high school notebook and inside was a scrawling black handwriting.

‘Shakespeare’s The Tempest,’ she whispered, ‘possible exam questions; describe the relationship between individuals or a set of characters. How is magic used throughout the play? Why is the play known as a comedy-romance?’

Fern turned the pages and looked at some of the notes towards the back. In the corner of one of the pages she noticed a date;

‘Tuesday the sixth of May two thousand and three,’ she breathed, ‘Literature of WW1 GSCE Revision Notes,’ she read the title then closed the book.

Putting it back down, she hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her. Rushing to the TV she turned it on and sat down on the sofa. Just before the sound came on the TV, she heard the elevated doors slide up and footsteps in the corridor. Grabbing the control, she put the news on then tried to make it look like she’d been there all along.

The door open and Brook came in bring a wonderful scent of freshly cut grass, damp earth and the beach mixed together. He closed the door and Fern looked at him, keeping her face blank.

‘I had jobs to do before we leave,’ Brook said, ‘you okay?’

‘Sure. I heard and saw you outside, so I thought I’d watch some TV and wait for you.’

Brook nodded, ‘I’ll change then we can go. Do you still want to go to your place?’

‘Yes. I checked my phone and my landlord has sent me a few texts. So, I need to go.’

Brook ran his fingers through his hair and give a small shrug, ‘fine,’ he added then walked into the bedroom.

To Be Continued…

Trust (Part 26)


Brook got off the wall and called the elevator. The doors opened and he stepped in. Fern stealing a last glance at the shadowy shape of Dacian, turned and joined Brook inside the lift. Brook pushed the button and the doors shut. Fern hugged herself, feeling upset and no closer to the answers she had been seeking. Brook stayed silent, watching the numbers on the display flashing upwards.

They got out on the sixth floor and went to the apartment door. Brook let them in just using his hand and mind.

‘You need to teach me that,’ Fern remembered.

‘Sure,’ Brook answered, ‘there’s a bit more to it then the shadow cover though.’

‘It’s fine. I need to learn,’ Fern stated and walked inside.

The apartment was dark, but Fern quickly found her way to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She heard Brook mutter her name, then saw a flash of light coming on from under the door as he turned on the main lights. Fern clicked on the bathroom one, then shrugging off the backpack, stripped from all her wet clothes.

She turned on the shower as she heard the TV coming on. She paused and tried to figure what the action movie was that Brook had stopped to watch. Shaking her head and feeling wet hair clinging to the back of her neck, she got in the shower. The hot water felt great and she sighed deeply before plunging her head underneath the full flow of water. She washed and double washed her hair, lingering in the shower as long as possible.

When she stepped out into clouds of steam, she grabbed a towel and dried herself off. Leaving her things behind her she walked out and over to Brook. He was sprawled across the sofa, just in his boxers. She was about to throw her arms around him and give him a hug, when she noticed the small, thick black outlined tattoo on the back of his neck. It was an opened mouth skull with a vampire bat escaping from the teeth. Puzzling over it, she hugged him and rested her shin on top of his head whilst her arms locked around his throat.

‘I emptied all the clothes on to the bed,’ Brook spoke.

‘Thanks. I’ll sort through them. What’s with the tattoo? I never noticed it before,’ Fern asked.

‘Not much. I got it before I was turned. I designed it myself.’

‘You never told me about that…how you become a vampire, the one who made you…how old you are?’

Brook gave a little snort, ‘it’s not interesting.’

‘So, tell me.’

‘I’m going to shower first. Maybe, before we go to bed.’

Brook moved and Fern had to let him go. She dug her hands into the back of sofa and thought about pressing him. He had gotten up though and was crossing the room. She went to get dressed instead and found that he really had just emptied the bag on the bed. Turning on the light, she had a quick sort through and found that none of the clothes were nightwear. There were two plain black t-shirts she could use, but there were no shorts or pants.

Fern picked out a nightie and bottoms from the wash basket and put them on. Really, I need to get back to my place and pack up all my stuff….Do I really want to move in here though? She thought. Sorting out the other clothes; she found two pairs of jeans, three jog pants, a packet of underwear, a handful of different t-shirts and a very worn blue woollen jumper. Okay, I so need my own stuff… Sighing, Fern folded the clothes and put them on top for the wash basket. She then got into bed and listened to Brook turn off the shower.

Settling back, she ran through a number of ways to bring up the suggestion of going to her flat. Thinking of that led to more thoughts about her other possessions and money. She had her purse and phone, but hadn’t touched them since Brook had taken her into the tomb. Her thoughts jumped on to that and a wave of blurry images came to her. She could see the damp stone walls and smell the mould. What I had I been doing before that? She thought, how did I spend my last day as a human? God, it was less than a week ago and I can’t remember!

‘You asleep?’ Brook’s voice cut into her thoughts.

Fern’s eyes snapped open and she jumped slightly, ‘I’m awake.’

‘You’re not tried?’

‘Not really,’ Fern said thoughtfully.

Book lay down next to her and they stared at each other.

‘You’re going to let me see Dacian again, right?’ she asked after a few seconds.

Brook gave a half shrugged and looked up at the ceiling.

‘He said he didn’t know when his blood would leave me…do you know?’

‘No. Do you feel drawn to him?’

Fern tried to hard the small smile on her face, ‘I guess…’

Brook went silent then after a few moments said, ‘any of the clothes good?’

Fern cast a look at the pile on the basket, ‘not really…Don’t you think it’s wrong?’


‘That we just took that stuff….I mean we didn’t really needed it.’

‘You learn to take and give,’ Brook said sleepy.

‘Give what?’ Fern tutted.

‘Donations. Money, food and stuff.’

‘And when have you ever done that?’

Brook sighed, his eyes fixed the ceiling, ‘not to them,’ he said very softly, ‘there was another shelter that helped me when I was first given the blood.’

Fern pressed her lips together quickly and wait for him to carry on. However, Brook seemed lost in thought. Fern moved closer on the bed to him and put her head onto the edge of his shoulder. Her hair brushed his neck and cheek; bring him back from a turmoil of memories.

He put his cheek to her hair and breathed deeply. Fern smelt smoke and blood on his breath.

‘Want to talk about it?’ Fern whispered.

‘Not right now. I guess one day…none of it really matters. It’s the past. I can’t go back…’ Brook uttered, ‘would you go back to yours? The cancer?’

‘No, of course not. I’d be dead all ready if it wasn’t for you and this…’ Fern stated and moved her head so she could see him better.

Brook glanced at her and kissed her nose awkwardly.

‘Though it’s not been easy or what I hoped…You know tomorrow we should go to my place,’ she added.

‘Why?’ Brook asked.

‘For my stuff. My life isn’t just in my handbag you know. I’ve got clothes and things…things I want. And rent…’ Fern trailed off into a hum as she tried to calculate when her rent was next due.

‘Guess your place isn’t as good as this one?’ Brook questioned.

‘It’s a one bed flat, almost a bedsit, but I’ve my own bathroom and a tiny kitchen. We should go though. I want my things and if we don’t go tomorrow the landlord might just throw it all out.’

‘Okay. I’m thinking of moving anyway. Been thinking about it over the last few days, really…’

‘Because of Dacian?’ Fern shot back, a hint of irritation in her voice.

‘He’s a part of it, more so then before now, thanks to you. But no, this place is shutting down for winter and there’s going to be less people now. It makes sense to go to my actual house. And now I know you’re going to live and we seem to be getting along okay, I thought we’d go there,’ Brook explained.

Fern rose off his shoulder and sat up in the bed. Her thoughts a hot, fast rush of words she couldn’t put together correctly to voice. She grabbed the duvet and clutched it tightly as a wave of anger rolled within her.

Brook followed her up and pressed a hand to her back. He began making large circles across her skin, sensing the mix of emotions coming off her. He didn’t speak and he was unable to get into her mind as her thoughts were too uncontrollable. He waited and listened to the sounds of birds singing the coming dawn song and car engine in the distance.

‘You lied to me. Again,’ Fern finally spoke.

‘No. I didn’t tell you the full truth. There’s a difference,’ Brook answered back.

‘I asked you,’ Fern said as she turned to look at him with a hand pressed to her forehead, ‘if you had a house and I thought this was it. You made me believe this was it.’

Brook pulled a face, ‘I’m the caretaker. That’s how I make most of my money. I get to live here or in the other apartments to do that job.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You didn’t need to know…like everything else. Why should I lay my life out for you?’ Brook demanded, anger sparking in his voice, ‘did I make you tell me everything before I shared my blood with you?’

Fern shook her head then as she thought about it, asked, ‘I don’t really remember…did you?’

‘No. It wasn’t important and it’s still not. And it’s the same for me. There’s stuff, Fern, that you really don’t want to know about me…A lot of shit stuff and yeah, it no longer matters now, but it made me and you don’t need to hear it,’ Brook stated.

He dropped his hand and flung back onto the bed. He spread his arms out, then rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head. He breathed heavily then arranged the pillows and settled for sleep in the nest he had made.

Fern watched this then lay down next to him, quietly. She watched the hump that was Brook raising up and down for a few moments. Her mind was reeling off questions and conjuring up images. The desperation to ask him refused to build and sighing deeply, she rolled over and kept everything to herself.


To Be Continued….

Trust (Part 25)


Fern’s heart raced and her breath caught in her throat. For a second, her human mind tried to trick her into believing it was just the shadow of the tree, but her vampire sight and smell knew better. She glanced at Brook, who had frozen by the open front door, allowing the wind to drive the rain into the entrance way.

Without looking back, Fern turned and walked over to him. Together they stepped inside and Brook closed the door behind them. Looking out, they saw the shadow figure casting off the darkness and taking a visible form.

‘Daican,’ Fern whispered, making the name sound forbidden.

‘I wonder what he wants,’ Brook sneered.

‘I don’t know…maybe to talk to you? I think he said something about that…’

Brook scoffed and his hand tightened on the door handle.

‘What are you going to do?’ Fern asked.


Brook turned and went to the elevator. Rain dripping off his clothes as he went and creating a trail on the too clean floor. He hit the button and waited, his head slightly turned to watch Fern. The elevator whirled into life, a tiny noise against the now raging wind and rain outside.

Fern’s fingers twitch, she desperately wanted to open the door and let Dacian in. She could see him still leaning against the tree, watching them. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face through, the torrent of rain was making it blurred. Why is he here? She thought, did he want to check I was okay? Did he sense something?

‘The lift’s here,’ Brook called as the doors opened silently.

Fern nodded and walked over. As she came closer she saw a flash of anger on Brook’s face then heard a loud tapping behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Dacian knocking his knuckles on the glass door. Pursing her lips, Fern turned and without waiting for Brook, rushed back and yanked open the door.

Brook was beside her in seconds, hands pushing the door closed. The door locked back into place and Brook, grabbed Fern and pulled her away.

‘At least ask him what he wants!’ she shouted.

‘No. He’s uninvited and I don’t want to talk,’ Brook yelled back.

‘Please! It could be important.’

Brook paused, ‘I doubt it,’ he said softer and let her go.

Fern went to the door again and opened it, ‘Daican,’ she said and gave him a quick hug.

Brook glanced at the elevator then back again. He flicked out his fringe and went for his box of cigs. Briefly his eyes met Dacian’s, then he was pulling things out of his pocket and lighting up.

‘What is it?’ Fern asked Dacian.

‘I wanted to check on you…something was telling me too…are you okay?’ Dacian asked in a soft breathy voice.

‘I’m fine, now,’ Fern replied, she glanced at Brook and saw him take a long first drag on the cigarette.

‘Can I come in?’ Dacian called over to Brook.

‘You want an invite this time, huh? Sure you just don’t want to break in again,’ Brook responded, icily as he blew out the smoke.

‘I didn’t break in. Fern invited me…she said she lived here too and she needed me,’ Dacian pointed out, ‘I only stayed because of her. I didn’t want her wandering around alone.’

‘So, you came to lecture then?’ Brook jumped on, ‘tell me how to raise my fledging?’

Dacian opened his mouth then closed it again. He gave a shake of his head then stepped away from the door.

‘Don’t leave,’ Fern rushed out, a small tremble in her voice.

‘Its fine,’ Daican said, he half raised his arm in the gesture of a wave then began walking off.

Fern shot a look at Brook before darting after Daican. She caught Daican’s hand and yanked him to a stop. The wind drove the rain hard around them, but they both ignored the cold water whipping against their clothes and skin.

‘Why did you come really?’ Fern asked in a quiet voice, hoping Brook wouldn’t hear them whilst at the same time knowing he would do.

‘I know he tried to kill you,’ Dacian stated.

Fern’s eyes widen and her mouth dropped open in a large ‘O’.

‘I sensed it because we switched blood…’

‘And how long is that going to last for?’ Fern questioned.

‘I don’t know. I never give my blood to anyone but the one I made,’ Dacian explained, ‘I guess it’s weaker though, so maybe it will wear off soon enough.’

Fern pulled a face, looked at the floor in thought then back to the apartment block and Brook. He was still smoking where they had left him. The elevator doors were slowly closing in the background.

‘I want you to come in,’ Fern shouted above the wind.

‘Not without his permission,’ Dacian said back.

Fern grabbed his hand and took him back to the door. She knocked on the glass and waved Brook over to them. For few seconds, Brook turned his head, eyeing the elevator, then he walked over to them. His fingers touched the door handle slowly and he had a grim expression set on his face. As he opened the door, Fern also pushed it and squeezed through the gap, just so Brook wouldn’t change his mind.

‘I want us all to be friends,’ Fern spoke as she led Daican behind her.

The two males eyed each other carefully.

‘So, let’s set our differences aside and start over,’ she continued.

‘What you’re asking is dangerous,’ Brook stated, flicking ash away.

Fern frowned and looked at both of them in turn. Dacian was fully fixed on Brook, who was leaning casually against the wall with his left foot up against it. They both looked to be wrestling with themselves as they edged closer to starting a fight.

‘Why?’ Fern demanded when either of them replied.

Dacian turned to her and explained, ‘vampires fall into two categories; Loners and Brooders. A brood is a family of vampires who try to live together. Often there’ll be one leader, sometimes they’ll have a mate though, and they keep their fledglings and the ones the fledglings make together. Sometimes another vampire might join them and they become a big family. I knew of one in Liverpool for a while, but with the way the human world is now it’s hard to live in a brood.’

‘I wasn’t asking you to move in,’ Fern pointed out.

‘We don’t have friends. We have lovers and enemies,’ Brook cut in.

He finished his cig and dropping it to the floor, crushed it under his foot.

‘Friends are very uncommon,’ Dacian muttered, ‘and two lone male vampires becoming friends with no other intentions is extremely rare.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Fern growled.

Brook rolled his eyes, ‘and this is why I didn’t want to talk. This isn’t something that can be explained easily, Fern. It’s experience and instinct.’

‘Think of it like tigers,’ Dacian put in, ‘they live almost solitary lives, only coming together to mate. Then the females brings up the cubs for a couple of years before forcing them away. All tigers are territorial and will fight to defend their home.’

‘So, we are like tigers?’ Fern clarified.

Daican nodded, ‘and now I should go.’

‘I’ll see you again though…won’t I?’

‘Maybe,’ Dacian responded softly, glancing at Brook, ‘bye.’

‘Bye,’ Fern muttered back as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

Dacian turned and walk out of the door, leaving them and a cold windy blast alone.


To Be Continued…

The Arcana Of Dreams (Part 8)

I looked up into the fire pit letting my mind digest all of that. My fingers went to close the book, but suddenly I decided to look up my current situation. Perhaps, there were more meanings now I was here. I turned to the front of The Arcana, give a quick thought as to what to look up then started again.

What did I know so far? Moor, fire, trees – were they birch or beech and elms? Night time and possible witches. I flipped to the start of ‘M’ and hurriedly went through the pages, until;


Indicates feelings overwhelmed by negativity. Alternatively, a pun on “more”, is there something you are in need of more?

‘Negativity?’ I whispered.

Not a good start. Okay next;


Depending on the context; to see fire symbolizes destruction, passion, desire, illumination, purification, transformation, enlightenment and anger. If you are not afraid and it is under control, then it’s a symbol of your own internal fire and inner transformation. It can also represent your drive, motivation, and creative energy. Alternatively, a warning of some dangerous or risky activities.

I glanced up, my eyes going straight to the fire before me. It didn’t sound like things were getting any better. The wind shook the trees around me, drawing my attention to them. What did The Arcana say about them?


To see bare trees indicates used up energy. You have put your all into something now you are exhausted. Perhaps depressed. Alternatively, the dream signifies the cycle of life or the passage of time.  Withered or dead trees indicates that your hopes and desires have been dashed. Additionally, crows symbolize the end of some cycle or behavior. It is representative of death. Beech tree; intellect, learning and wisdom. Alternatively, it represents death. Elm Tree; death, misfortune, and bad luck. Birch tree;  self-punishment or guilt issues.

I gulped and uttered, ‘no.’

This wasn’t right after how far I’d come. Why was the book now giving me all these negative meaning when I now needed it the most? Perhaps the meaning of night would offer me some comfort? I skipped back the pages and looked it up. My fingers traced the words as I read;


Represents major setbacks and obstacles in achieving  goals. You are faced with an issue that is not clear cut. Perhaps, you should put the issues aside, clear your head and come back later. Alternatively, death, rebirth, reflection, and new beginnings.

‘Death, again! Come on, Arcana don’t do this to me!’ I screamed and all but threw the book down.

I shut my eyes and quietened my panicked breathing. What else was there? Oh, the witches that started all of this off. I couldn’t remember what their meaning was. I turned to the back and looked it up then read aloud, ‘witches represent destruction and evil, either through seeing them physically or objects that are connected with them. Witches are also linked to negative ideas about females and the body. This could have been brought on by recent events connected with these matters. It is often centred on bad experiences with a heartless woman who is or will become a danger to you.’

I paused, breathed and read the next part, ‘Alternatively, a white or good witch has the opposite effect and they are seen as a symbol of goodness, power and enchantment. They can appear to protect you and/or offer guidance through their magic.’

It was the same as the last time I had read it.

I closed the book and put it away. Somehow the dagger was still in my hand and had been this whole time. I took in a few deep breaths and looked into the fire. The flames were getting through the logs quickly, but it was far from going out. I listened to the wind in the trees and the howling of some creature far away. What did it all mean? What did The Arcana want me to do?

A crackling laugh echoed above and I looked up, but didn’t see anything. A shiver went through me and after a quick glance around, I stepped into the safe cover of the trees. What else did I remember about this dream? I tried to recall quickly. I was child, in a white nightie, lost on the moors at night. I stumble on the witches meeting here and making a potion. They capture me and after torturing me, throw me into the caldron….

I looked down and saw no white nightie or child body. The thought that this difference could be key came to mind. I felt the Hagstone heating up and grabbed it to look up at the sky. There was a witch on a broomstick above me. I watched her circling then coming down just in front of the tree enclosed cleaning. I didn’t remember her being so detailed before.

She carried the broom in her right hand and a large caldron- surly too heavy for just herself to carry and fly with!- in her left. She had on a black hat, a short black cape and plain black dress. Her hair was bright green and face covered in warts. She looked like a traditional Halloween witch. She walked in and set the caldron on top of the fire.

I looked at the sky again and watched four more witches flying in. They are looked so different and covered the whole scale of witchy looks. Those four joined the first one and they began the preparations of the potion. Another crackling laugh raised my head again and this time I counted eight more. Those witches came into land and they all greeted each other.

My heart and breathing were loud in my ears, but I stayed frozen and watched them. Soon the potion was bubbling away and they were chanting. A few added some more things in and two were tending to the fire. I gripped the ice dagger and thought about getting The Arcana out again. What was I meant to do?

‘Where’s the child?’ one witch shouted up.

The others grew silent.

‘She should be here by now,’ another gargled.

‘I don’t sense her,’ a very old and blind witch cut in.

‘Perhaps we should go and find her?’ a very beautiful, blonde chimed in.

‘No. She always comes to us. It’s the way,’ the first spoke again.

All the witches murmured and swayed around the caldron.

‘Who has the best eyes?’ the gargling one asked.

‘I!’ cried the blind one, ‘and I tell ye now, she’s not coming.’

I stepped from the trees, ‘I’m here!’ I shouted.

The closest witches stumbled back then froze with the others as they all looked at me.

‘I’m no longer a child!’ I cried and lashed out with the dagger at the nearest witch.

The dagger easily sliced through her and the witch screamed. Black blood squirted out and the witched turned, crumbling to the ground. The other witches cried out and rushed me at once. I felt their cold, gnarled fingers ripping into me. I sliced out with the dagger in all directions, determined that they wouldn’t take me. Fingers flew across the air, more black blood dripped down me and the witches screamed loudly in my ears till it was all I could here.

Despite everything, they grabbed me and dragged me over the fire and caldron. Screaming and kicking, slashing out with the dagger that had become unmoveable from my hand, I fought them off. Their fingers pinched through my clothes and laughter rushed through me. I screamed and screamed then I felt the kiss of the fire.

‘It can’t be like this!’ I yelled.

‘It can and is, child!’ the first witch roared back, raising above us all, ‘throw her in!’

The witches heaved together and threw me upwards. Wind and my own scream rushed around me. I flew for a second then landed over the caldron, knocking it over and sending the potion sizzling into the fire. Black smoke engulfed me and heat cracked my skin.

‘Ashes to ashes,’ the witches chanted.

I felt myself sinking and struggled to get up, but I was trapped under the caldron. I screamed and the fire burned my throat. Suddenly, I heard a cry and a panic of words. Had someone come to save me? No, the witches had suddenly realised that their potion and I had gone up in flames and smoke. I smiled and felt myself melting away. I felt the fire and ashes giving away under me and I fall through a blue haze. Landing, for the first time up right, I looked around and saw total blackness.

Had I died for real? Garson said that wasn’t possible. If I died in the dream I came back to my own bed and life. I touched myself not sure what was going on. My clothes felt the same and I still had the satchel. I fumbled around inside of it and finding nothing of valuable right now, pulled out the feather. My connection to my life, Garson had said.

A dim, growing light ahead of me caught my attention. I looked up, feather in one hand and dagger glued to the other. The light grew and grew, becoming the soft glow of a candle. What was this now? I steadied my breathing and got ready to fight again. As it drew closer, I saw it to be lantern and a familiar person was holding it up.

‘Dean!’ I shouted and ran towards him.

I threw my arms around him and pressed my face into his chest.

‘Abs! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’ He half-shouted.

I laughed at his American accent, but didn’t release him from the hug, ‘are we back in the mine? Did you get caught?’

‘No. This is a new place. I’m not sure how I got here…Well, I think I do know. Come here and I’ll explain on the way,’ Dean stated.

He wiggled out of the hug, took my hand and walked me into the darkness. The candle lantern burned brightly around us, but it didn’t display anything.

‘I think I’m here to help you as a thanks for helping me,’ Dean picked up excitedly, ‘you see when you went through that portal, I tried to follow you and I ended up here with this light.’

‘Really? I’ve been on such a journey since then!’ I jumped in.

‘But you made it and when I saw this. I knew you’d come to fix it. Everything made sense. Look.’

Dean rose the lantern up as he stopped and I had crane my neck to look up. A massive gold web was spun out before us. A gasp escaped me. The web was so huge it was impossible for me to see it all at once. I reached out a hand and touched it lightly. The web was ice cold and seemed to shiver at my fingertips.

‘I’ve been looking for the broke part and I think I found it, but we’ll have to climb,’ Dean explained.

‘How safe is it?’ I asked.

‘Safe enough. It’s very solid and there’s only small gaps between the strands. Think of it like a ladder.’

I nodded.

‘We can go side by side.’

‘I’d like that,’ I answered and give him a smile.

I put the feather and finally the dagger into my bag. Dean put his foot on the first strand and his free hand four up then began climbing. I joined him and together we worked our way up the Dream Web. When Dean began moving to the side, I did the same. The climb was easy and I didn’t feel nervous at all. However, I began to tire and slow down. I pressed my hand to the golden strand and breathed deeply. I yawed and went to rub my eyes before remembering I needed to hold on.

‘Come on, Abs!’ Dean called down to me, ‘we’re almost there.’

‘I’m so sleepy!’ I called back.

‘Don’t give in! Talk to me.’

‘What about?’

‘I don’t know, anything. Just focus on that and climbing.’

‘I’ve not got a clue what I’m doing really,’ I started off with, ‘I just battled a coven of witches and defeated their plan. Whatever it was.’

‘Witches?’ Dean spoke.

I nodded and began climbing again to join him. The web still felt cold and shivery under me.

‘It’s a dream I’ve had often. Like the mine one and the plum travel and the triangle forest. Different stuff sometimes happens, but they are all the same really,’ I explained, ‘Garson, the-not-angel, the person who told me about all of this said they’d been replaying dreams to find someone to fix the web.’

‘And what happens when we fix it?’ Dean asked.

‘I don’t know…maybe it’ll make the dreams better? And safer?’

‘He didn’t tell you?’

‘If he did I don’t remember.’

‘Look, there it is. The broken strand.’

I looked and saw that a few meters above us was a snapped off golden strand which had created a small whole in the web. I sighed deeply, annoyed it was still so far away. I climbed up a few more strands, Dean now following me. My mind fell to thinking how to fix it, but until I got there I couldn’t vision it.

Finally, I reached up for the strand next to it and hooked my hand through. I looked at the snapped strand and waited for Dean to shine the light on it. Once that was done, I picked up the smooth golden rod and tried to slot it back into place. There seemed to be no way to reattach it.

Frowning, I left the strand hanging again and dug around in my bag.

‘You got any glue?’ Dean asked.

‘No, just this multi-tool,’ I said pulling it out.

Dean frowned, but didn’t say anything as I tried to pick up the strand again and work out how to fix it with anything on the tool. Nothing seemed to stand out and looking closer, I saw there were no screws or anything else, just a hole were the end of the rod slotted in. I tried again, but it wouldn’t hold.

‘It’s no good, why didn’t you tell me this before?’ I sighed.

‘I didn’t think…I thought you knew how to fix this thing,’ Dean shot back.

I put my other arm through the good strand and lend forward, puffing out each breath and sulking.

‘Don’t you have anything else you could use?’

‘I got a feather, a prayer book, an ice dagger, this tool, a Hagstone, The Arcana…maybe there’ll be something in there!’

I put the tool away and grabbed the book, slotting my hand through the strand again and putting all my weight into leaning forward, I flipped through the book. I could just make at the words.

‘What is there? The web, gold, the lantern….candle,’ I listed off then flipped to candle.

‘Seeing a burning candle signifies that good luck and hope is coming. You are at a comfortable life stage, but seek spiritual enlightenment. Candles represent intellect, awareness and a search for the truth. To carry a lantern represents the feelings and wisdom coming from you that will guide you in the life’s journey. I’ve read that before, in your dream.’

‘What else?’ Dean asked.

‘Web, represents desire to control everything. Alternatively, suggests you are being held back from fully expressing yourself. Feel trapped and do not know what to do or where to go. That feels so true right now…but not helpful. Okay, next.’

I flipped to the ‘G’s and read aloud once again, ‘gold reflects a spiritual reward, richness, refinement and enhancement of surroundings. Also, your determination and unyielding nature.’

‘Useless still,’ Dean put in.

My mind reeled and an idea, maybe suggested by the book itself or something else made me turn the pages back and looked up dreams.

To dream that you are dreaming or daydreaming shows your emotional state. You are excessively worried, fearful about a situation. Dreaming also serves as a layer of protection from what you are feeling, allowing the experience of certain difficult feelings that may otherwise be too painful to confront.

 DreamcatcherIndicates that you are putting up a wall or barrier against the negativity. Perhaps there is something subconsciously that you are trying to prevent from emerging.

‘That wasn’t any good either. Oh, Dean what are we going to do?’

‘Climb back down and figure it out,’ he suggested.

I shook my head, ‘I don’t think I could make the climb again and anyway, if I haven’t got it right now, why should I get it right if we go back down. No. There must be a way.’

Closing the book, I slipped it back into my bag and turned to look fully at him. Dean’s expression was one of saddens and pain. I looked at the lantern and saw the candle flickering away and the wax pooling at the bottom. Glancing at the rod then the candle an idea began to form.

‘Wait. I think I know what to do. Dean hand me the candle,’ I requested.


‘The candle. The melted wax! It’ll glue the rod back in place when it dries,’ I explained quickly.

‘But how will we see to get down?’

‘That doesn’t matter, right now! The candle! Please, Dean, please,’ I begged.

He dropped his head and I thought I saw him bit his bottom lip, ‘all right. I’m going to trust you, Abs. You give me my freedom and I’ll always owe you for that.’

He held up the lantern to me. I undid the latch and with a shaking hand took the candle out. Slowly, I brought it up to the rod and drippled some of the wax into the hole.  Turning quickly, I tried to get the wax on to the end of the rod, but couldn’t do it.

‘Grab it,’ I gasped.

‘I’ll have to drop the lantern,’ Dean growled back.

‘Do it!’ I said.

Dean flung the lantern away and grabbed the rod, as wax begin dripping onto my fingers. Ignoring the pain, I tilted the candle and the wax dripped on to the rod.

‘Swap,’ Dean shouted.

I handed the candle to him with gritted teeth and grabbed the rod. I slotted into place and held it there. The wax started drying on my hand and I heard Dean’s small gasps of pain. I held my breath, praying it would hold. Suddenly there was blinding flash of golden light and we were both thrown off the Dream Web.

I screamed and reached for Dean, but felt nothing other than air against my fingers. Wind rushed around me, drying my throat and silencing my scream. I spun around and felt tears being torn from my eyes. I wanted to yell for Dean, but there was bubble in my mouth. I flipped back over and looked up at the Dream Web, it was lit up and shining brightly.

I noticed that the light was sweeping across the wall behind it and even the ceiling.  I saw a wonderful collection of paintings that made little sense, but looked like Bible scenes, only they had an Egyptian style to them. There were no words, but the pictures told so much, if only my mind could stop and figure it out.

Something soft hit me in the back and I bounced up, grunting loudly. I flopped back down again and lay spread eagle on what felt like a trampoline. I felt Dean land beside me and rolled over to him once he’d finished bouncing.

‘I think we did it!’ I shouted.

‘Yeah,’ he forced out through his heavy breathing.

I sat up and now with light filling the room took stock of where we were. A door was forming and opening far to our left and I scuttled over the soft trampoline and climbed down the side. Dean called after me, but I ignored him as I saw Garson stepping through the door.

‘I did it!’ I yelled over and waved.

He waved back and turned to say something to someone behind him.

‘Abs! Wait up!’ Dean called.

I stopped and waited for him to catch up, we both walked over together and Garson greeted us warmly.

‘Hello, Abigail. Thank you, Thank you,’ he said and taking my hand shook it.

‘Hi, Garson and your welcome. Dean helped me,’ I replied.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ Garson added.

Dean gave a little bow.

‘So, the dreams are safe again now,’ I stated and looked up at the glowing Dream Web.

‘Yes, Abigail and you can now return home,’ Garson declared and looked behind him, ‘you can go through that door and wake up safe in your bed.’

‘I’d like that very much, thank you.’

‘But what about me? How do I get out of here?’ Dean broke in.

Garson and I eyed him.

‘I’ll help you return to the dream world,’ Garson said ‘and if Abigail gives you permission, you may roam freely there.’

‘I do,’ the words bust out of my mouth, ‘give my permission,’ I tacked on.

Dean hugged me tightly, snatching the breath out of me, ‘thanks,’ he whispered into my hair, ‘I’m going to miss you and I’ll never forget this, Abs.’

‘It’s okay. I’ll still see you again, right?’ I asked having created a gap between us.

‘Of course! I’ll always appear in your dreams when you need me. Maybe we could fight those witches together sometime?’

I nodded then reached up and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft against mine.   Garson coughed loudly and I let go.

‘Bye, Dean. See you soon,’ I whispered, pressing my forehead against his and focusing on his lips.

‘You too, Abs. Good luck,’ he added and kissed my head.

Letting go, I allowed Garson to push me through the door whilst not breaking eye contact with Dean. I was shoved through and it closed behind me. Darkness surround me then there as a gap of light and I opened my eyes back in the real world.

The End.


Halloween rolled in on a bank of endless fog. Beth watched it from her bedroom window as she listened to the church bells tolling the midnight hour. Sleepily, she saw the fog reaching out and cloaking cars, lampposts and the whole street in a thick white blanket. Beth rubbed her eyes and wondered if the weather forecast had said anything about fog. She couldn’t remember.

Settling back on the duck feather pillow, she sighed and thought about reading some more of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, but it wasn’t gripping her enough. How about the TV? Maybe there’d be a horror movie or some ghost haunting show on. She couldn’t be bothered moving and remind fixed on watching the fog clouds rolling by. Slowly, her eyes closed and she thought about all the things she had to do tomorrow.

Celebrating Halloween alone again, she thought and sighed deeply, if I’d know my wild uni nights were going to turn into boring adult times I’d have found a way to stay longer.

In a flash, she saw the party from third year and smiled into her pillow. Her memory replayed disjointed scenes; the childish Halloween style games, all the food, the carved pumpkins on the staircase and that kiss from Blake. A wobble of pain and sadness shook her stomach and she banished that thought away.

She pulled the curtains and rolled over. Settling into a light doze and imaging herself in an empty white room. Sleep whispered to her then carried her off as the fog pressed heavier against the window. A wisp snuck through the not quite closed window and reached down towards her. Beth sighed in her sleep and didn’t feel the fog wisp brushing against her cheek.

The fog was still thick when Beth’s alarm clock drilled her awake. Switching it off, she rolled over and opened her curtains. A fog cloud waved at her then drifted away. Frowning, Beth looked harder outside, she could just make out her small car and that of her neighbours’ across the way. She got up, went through her morning routine before going downstairs in her slippers. She put on a jacket at the front door then went outside.

The fog hugged her and she felt an icy chill on her skin. Peering out, she couldn’t see much further then she had been able to upstairs. Going in again, she went to her computer and looked up the weather forecast. There was still nothing about fog. Deciding to just go with it, she had breakfast and looked over her to do list. Normally her handwritten list was short on Saturdays, but today she had added a couple of things.

Starting at the top, she worked her way through things and soon found herself sorting out the Halloween sweets for tonight. Over the last few weeks, she had been gathering packets to make up goodie bags and now her coffee table was full of stuff. Digging out the party bags, she began filling them with gummy eyeball sweets, lollypops, chews, other gummies and chocolate. Humming along with some Halloween themed music, the task was overall too soon.

Putting the bags into a large green bowl and on to the window sill near the door, Beth went back and crossed it off her list. Next she got on with the pumpkin and when that was down placed it outside and sorted the inners into a two bowls – on for pumpkin pie and the other for pumpkin soup. She checked her list again and got the last few things done quickly, so she could watch a program about Halloween on TV.

The first knock on the front door of the evening made her jump. Beth had been dozing on the sofa in the darkening living room, feeling overcome by her burst of business. Shaking herself, she got up and answered it, preparing herself to see children dressed up in costumes. Instead there was an old woman in large coat.

‘Hello?’ Beth said slowly.

‘Hi, sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t mind, but I noticed you hadn’t lit your pumpkin,’ the old lady pointed out, ‘I did it for you. I had a spare candle. It’s fine.’

Beth peered out and looked at the pumpkin she had balanced on top of a large empty tree plant pot next to her front door. A soft light was flicking from inside the orange ball and bring the scary face Beth had carefully carved to life.

‘Thanks. I’d forgotten about it,’ Beth explained.

‘Yes, dear and I’m sure you’d want to keep the spirits away tonight,’ the old woman said.

Beth frowned at the hint of mystery in her voice then put it to one side, ‘yes of course. Thanks again.’

The old lady smiled and left with a little wave.

Beth closed the door, shaking her head as she went back to the TV. Flopping onto the sofa, she looked through the channels and found a scary movie to watch. Just as the first lot of adverts came on, the door was knocked on again. Beth got up and answered it to a single trick or treater dressed as a headless horseman.

Smiling, Beth offered the newly turned teenage boy one of the party bags and watched him run back to his father. Closing the door, Beth knew that was the official start and for the rest of the night, she felt herself yo-yoing to and from the door. Finally as the church bells chimed in ten o’clock she said goodnight to the last group of trick or treaters.

Picking through the remaining goodie bags, she selected a new movie to watch and stayed up to see the witching hour come in. Finally at half past midnight as the movie credits rolled, she turned the TV off and stepped outside to blow the pumpkin’s candle out. Noticing it had already gone out, Beth locked the front door and went to bed.

Settling in for a better night’s sleep, she thought that this Halloween had gone well, but next year she was so finding a party to go to.