Cereology #AtoZChallenge

Cereology – the study of investigation of crop circles

It was definitely aliens this time, I could swear to it. The crop circle was huge and spread across two fields of corn, most of which had been flattened. The plants hadn’t just been laid flat though, there were shapes within the main ones. The corn lay in almost a spiral pattern, some going one way then the next patch going the opposite.

I glanced back at the farmer who had called me into inspect this weirdness. He was stood against the open gate to the field, scratching his head under his flat cap whilst his three boarder collie dogs paced around him, eager to get back to work.

There was no way he could have done this. It was too big, too complex and why would he want to ruin a crop that was a month away from being harvested? No, it didn’t make sense for him to have done this….

I looked at my clipboard again and made some more notes. I took some more photos then went over to the farmer. He was petting one of the dogs and talking to her.

‘Do you have a ladder or something I can get a higher photo with? I’d love to try and see this thing fully,’ I asked.

The farmer mumbled something in his thick Yorkshire accent which I could hardly understand and walked away. I hoped he was going to get a ladder and hadn’t decided I was crazy. Though, he like everyone else, except those of The Fellowship of the Outer Finders Orbit (FUFO) thought I was mad, so what did it matter?

Minutes passed, I re-read my notes, made a few more, walked around bit and then the farmer and another man appeared with the ladder. The dogs were running around and barking but once they realised they were back at a sheep free field again, they calmed down.

The farmer spoke and I guess he was introducing me to his son and also where were they to put the ladder?

I pointed to the corner of the field and we went over.

Once up the ladder, I could see the crop circle in all its glory. God it was beautiful! There was circles of all kinds joining together to make what had to be the base of a space craft. I took a few photos then had to change the film in the camera.

‘Let’s move the ladder over there,’ I said.

For maybe a hour or so, we moved the ladder around and I climbed up and took photos of the different view. Finally, we returned to the gate and the ladder was laid against a hedge.

‘What’s tha think?’ the farmer asked.

‘You sure you didn’t hear or see anything?’ I asked.

‘Nowt.’

‘They must have been cloaked,’ I muttered to myself, ‘I wonder what they wanted….Any cattle or other animals gone missing?’

‘Not sure. Sheep ‘re on fell. Don’t count ’em.’

I frowned and took that to mean he didn’t know. Was there any point in asking if he could go and check? I shook my head.

‘Tha done?’

‘Yes. I think so. If anything else happens, call me again.’

‘Theerz nowt s’queer as folk,’ the son said in a low voice.

I frowned but before I could ask what he meant, the farmer spoke, ‘tek n’gorm.’

God, I should have brought a translator!

‘Tha want brew?’ the farmer asked.

‘Er no, I’m driving. Thanks anyway. I should be going actually. It was nice to meet you. Thanks,’ I said and shook both their hands, ‘goodbye.’

‘Aye, lad sithee.’

I nodded and left the two men talking to each other. I guessed they were discussing me, probably insulting me but I had no idea. I walked back to my car, parked almost in a ditch in the courtyard of the farm.

Once back in my car, I felt strangely safer as if I had just escaped from an alien encounter.

I sipped some warm water and took a some deep breaths of hot, stale air. I started the car and put down the window. I glanced at the collection of papers and camera films I had dumped on the passenger seat.

‘Unbelievable evidence though, wait to the FUFO sees this!’ I spoke.

(Inspired by; http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com)

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Blown In On The Wind

Returning from dropping the grandchildren off at school, I sank into my armchair and looked out the window at the storm I had just battled through. The wind was as strong as a car speeding on the motorway and it was driving the heavy rain and hailstones into you like shards of glass.

I turned the TV on, then left some daytime game show sounding in the background. I changed into slippers and a warmer jumper. There was housework to do but it could wait until later.

Sitting down again, I looked at the collection of photos on the mantel and the wall. There were many of my husband who had died six years ago, we had been married for fifty-two years. He had been in the army and though the idea of being an solider’s wife had worried me, I had enjoyed the travelling and many experiences.

There were photos of my only child, my daughter, Victoria and also her husband, Danial. Both had died in a car crash, five years ago. Then there were my grandchildren, ten year old, Beth and seven year old, Alex, smiling brightly in every photo.

I got out my knitting, feeling the need to relax. My joints were aching because of the cold and I couldn’t get warm enough. The joys of old age and having to look after young children once again. I would soon feel some energy back then I could do some chores.

A banging upstairs stilled the clicking of my needles. I looked up at the ceiling, listening as the bang came again. The wind was swinging a door about, that was all.

I got up and climbed the stairs, feeling pain in my hips and knees. At the top, I saw Beth’s door moving and banging against the frame as the wind blew about.

‘She didn’t shut her window probably, that child!’ I uttered.

I went in, closed and locked the offending window. Outside, the wind carried on raging away, leaving the bedroom freezing cold. Turning the heater up, I went to head back downstairs and put the kettle on.

Something white moved out of the corner of my eye and I turned to it. Was it a bird? No..it was something else….The shape seemed to grow and become more solid, yet still see through. The white colour became more cream and I saw the outline of a long dress drifting.

The more I stared the more the ghost took form before me until a young woman was standing before the bed. Her long hair was down to her waist and her face was full of sadness. As she looked around, confusion frowned her face then she went to the window and looked out as if she was lost.

‘Hello? I said gently.

No reply.

‘I can see you, ghost,’ I added.

The woman turned and looked at me slowly.

‘What are you doing here?’

She sighed and softly, almost in a whisper answered, ‘looking for my child.’

‘Are they here?’ I pressed.

‘No,’ she uttered, ‘the strong wind blew me into your house. I am sorry.’

‘It’s okay, pet. Would you like to stay until the weather passes?’ I asked, ‘some company meet be good for you.’

The ghost took a moment to think then nodded. She turned, taking the room in again.

‘This is my granddaughter’s room. Come down into the living room,’ I spoke.

I went back down and the ghost followed me. A cold draft trailed around her and her dress floated on a wind that seemed to be a part of her.

Settling in my chair and picking up my knit, I tried not to watch the ghost hovering around.

‘They have passed,’ she muttered after a few minutes.

I looked up and saw her before the photos, ‘yes, pet,’ I replied, though there wasn’t a need too but it did open a conversation, ‘you lost your child?’

‘At birth. I followed a day later,’ the ghost answered, ‘and I have been searching ever since.’

‘That’s why you are still here,’ I added.

‘Yes,’ agreed the ghost. She give a long moaning sigh and stirred the leaves of a pot plant.

‘Where do you think your child is?’ I questioned over the clicking of my knitting needles.

The ghost was quiet and thoughtful.

‘At your house?’ I pondered after a few minutes.

‘If she was, she is no longer,’ the ghost woman replied, ‘that is why I had to leave. I cannot rest without her.’

I nodded and fell to thinking. Soothed by the sounds of the TV and needles, it was easy for my mind to drift.

‘You know, pet,’ I said, ‘stillborn babies probably go straight to heaven.’

‘Do you think?’ the ghost gasped.

‘Yes. They are innocent and have no reason to stay here. Maybe, that’s what has happened?’

‘Has it?’ whispered the ghost.

‘And perhaps, it’s not the search for your child that keeps you here but the grieve of the loss?’ I concluded.

The ghost let out a low moan.

‘Have you tried to leave?’

‘No. I did not want to,’ the ghost replied.

‘Try and see what happens, pet,’ I responded, gently.

‘Am I scared.’

‘I know but there’s nothing to worry about and your child will be waiting. If not, I shall help you.’

‘You will? Oh! Thank you!’ the ghost cried and she smiled.

‘Now, try to go to Heaven, pet.’

The ghost nodded and after a few moments, she began to fade away.

‘I am going! I am going!’ she shouted, ‘I shall be united with my child.’

‘Yes, dear. Go, go! Find your child and be at peace.’

With a finally smile, the ghost woman vanished.

Her cold spot lingered another minute or two then warmth took over once more.

I lent back in my armchair, knitting abandoned on my lap, looking at where the ghost had stood. Then, I turned to the photographs and said, ‘if I was her, I would have done the same. Mothers and children should always be together.’

Negatives #TwitteringTales

Avril found the carrier bag of photo negatives in the attic and decided to get them developed. When the photos came back, she saw the faces of relatives and their friends. All those people were gone now, yet here they were now before her, captured forever in print.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2019/05/28/twittering-tales-138-28-may-2019/ with thanks).

Fading #TwitteringTales

It was a photo everyone always laughed over. Those old cameras creating ‘ghost’ images when the button was pressed too fast. There was more to it though because the girls in the background, my cousins, had been long dead before the printed date on the back said.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2018/11/27/twittering-tales-112-27-november-2018/ with thanks).

Inspiration

For the last few months, Yancy had been going around car boots, fairs and similar places. He brought old photographs, postcards and sometimes albums of them if they were cheap enough or he found a picture he liked.

Each morning, he would gather a bunch together and look at them at the desk in his studio. In the afternoon, he would try and draw or paint something inspired by what he had seen.

It was hard going but it was helping to break his block. For months, he’d not been able to bare touching his pencils and paintbrushes but now he was finding it easier each day.

He had yet to move back to canvas though but that would soon come. He tried not to think so much. Best to keep the negative voices down.

That morning, from his pile, Yancy selected a photo of a young child standing in front of a white washed wall. He wondered who the child was and what they were doing. Puling his sketchbook over, he drew the child, ideas turning over his head.

An hour later, he stopped and looked at what he had achieved. He had capture the child’s likeness well. Yancy smiled and decided the time was right, he wanted to paint this on to canvas.

Puffins #3LineTales

The sea roared in my ears, the tide was coming back in. I lent out over the edge of the cliff, camera ready to snap whatever was down there. I took a few photos blindly then the puffins flew up into my face, defending their nests and forcing me away.

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2018/03/15/three-line-tales-week-111/ with thanks).

Cynophilist #atozchallenge

Cynophilist: A person who loves dogs. 

Even though it was a warm sunny day, the blinds were drawn over the top floor photography studio’s windows. No sun was leaking into the cool room which was artificially lit to create the perfect cast of light and that was just how Pepper liked it. Standing next to her tripod, with her hand on top of the large camera balanced on top, she waited whilst her assistant, Angel, rearranged things.

‘Stay still and be a good girl, Tilly,’ Angel was saying gently as she placed the tiny puppy in an overlarge tea cup.

Pepper watched and felt the tiredness of holding a smile on her face for so long. The little black and tan terrier puppy was so cute. It was hard not to smile. The cuteness was made made even more so by the set up for third lot of photos; puppy at a tea party. Pepper and Angel had made up the small platform to look like a small garden with a picnic and afternoon tea going on. Tilly, the puppy was the center piece.

Angel stepped down from the platform and out of view. Leaving Pepper to do her side of the work. Looking at the camera screen, Pepper took a few photos, till she had the perfect one. Then getting out, she went over and scooped the puppy up. Tilly yipped and wagged her tail madly. Her little tongue licked everywhere it could and Pepper broke into laughter.

‘This is still the best job I’ve ever had working with dogs,’ Pepper announced.

‘Mine too,’ Angel answered.

She had come over as well, a clipboard in her hands.

‘What scene is next?’ Pepper asked as she cradled Tilly in her arms.

‘The cakes,’ Angel replied.

They both smiled at each other. This scene was going to be fun to photograph.

Book Tunnel

We hadn’t been walking in the forest for long when we came across it. In a small clearing, jutting out of the ground was a metal framed window.

‘You go look,’ my girlfriend whispered.

She had hooked her fingers in the straps of her hiking rucksack and was looking so cute in blue shorts and a cream vest top.

‘I don’t know…’ I trailed, casting my eyes over the strange structure.

‘It could be a secret hatch to an old war bunker or a nuclear shelter. There might be something interesting down there,’ she spoke.

‘Then you go look,’ I suggested.

She shook her head and turned away, looking at the trees that surrounded us. The forest was just awakening after being a sleep all winter. Leaves were budding on branches and flower shoots were coming up. Birds were singing and calling to each other in the distance.

Sighing, I walked forward to the edge of the metal frame and looked though the window. Straight down into a walled hole I stared. Then slowly, I saw that the walls were made of books! Books and books stacked in a spiral going down into the darkness.

‘What is it?’ my girlfriend called.

‘Come see,’ I answered, ‘it’s strange. Nothing scary.’

‘I’m not scared,’ she snapped back then came over.

She came to my side and looked through the window.

‘Oh! It’s books!’ she cried.

‘Yep. Must be some art project or something,’ I added.

‘Wondered where they go. Does this open?’ my girlfriend asked.

We both looked around the edge of the metal frame but found no way to open it.

‘Guess not,’ I said.

My girlfriend pouted, ‘but I want to see the books.’

I rolled my eyes hearing the childish tone of her words.

‘You can see them,’ I pointed out, ‘here I’ll take a few photos.’

I dug out my camera and began taking photos from different angles. Some images included my girlfriend and two of the photos I took with me next to her looking down the window hatch. Most though showed the books spiralling into the darkness.

‘It looks like the hole to Wonderland,’ my girlfriend announced afterwards.

‘Huh?’

‘You know, the book; Alice In Wonderland. Alice fell down a hole lined with all kinds of things. This reminds me of that story,’ she explained.

‘Oh. I guess so,’ I replied.

We give the book tunnel one last look then left to carry on our hike, both of us wondering about the window.

Postcard #27

Babe,

Today, I found the most wonderful, magic place in the whole of this forest. It made me feel better about not getting any bear photos! I think I’m going to give up there and just carry on taking whatever else I find. I know what my editor really wants, but who actually wants to see someone getting mauled by a bear?

This place is just, wow. The river has been drawing me for ages now and today I followed it and found some awesome waterfalls and large pools. The fall is just making it feel more magical. The colorful leaves that everywhere just add this brightness and like clothes to the forest. That sounds kinda silly, but you get it right?

I wish you could be here with me. You’d love seeing all the little critters getting ready to sleep and having birds wake you every morning. I know the nights seem scary, but they’re not really. Once, I shut the door of the cabin, I sit by the window and just look outside for ages. Last night, it felt like I was the only man left on earth and I so wanted you there so we could experience that together.

I’ve only a week left now. And yeah I know my editor’s not going to get his photos, but he’s going to get something at lest! And we’ll be back together and I can tell you more about my adventures.

Love, Tate. x

The Dying Cycle

I’ve been dead for about seventeen minutes, give or take, but who’s counting any more right?

How do I know I’m dead right now though?

I know because I’m staring at my body, well sort of. But what more proof do you need?

I’m standing outside, in my back garden looking at where my killer stuffed me. The green general waste bin lid is only half closed and the black bag containing parts of me is poking out.

No one is aware I’m gone yet.

They’ll know soon enough though.

Why did this happen? I don’t know.

Why am I still here? No idea.

I feel adrift. Like I’m here, but not really. I can see things around me. Grey and black shadows with no real shapes. I can’t actually feel anything. I don’t like it.

I hear a sound.

I look around, trying hard to see through the mist that’s gathering around me. I go to the kitchen window and pass right through it when all I meant to do was peer inside. I turn and twist wildly, not understanding, but realising I’m now inside.

The sound comes again. Footsteps, a door closing.

My killer is still here!

I sense him, but I don’t know how. I just know he’s upstairs right now. I go, tracking him whilst all the while this mist weighs heavily on me. I almost feel like something is pulling me back, but I fight against it. I must see what he’s doing!

In the spare bedroom I find him. He is standing on the rug. Blood, my blood! dripping from the curved knife he was holding in gloved hands. He’s dressed all in black leather, like a motor biker. Only he’s not. I can’t see him clearly, he’s just an outline of red and black waves pulsing off him.

I try to reach for the knife then him, but my hands pass through him! It’s like he’s not there. Or I’m not…

Then I hear the front door and voices. I listen, but can’t make anything out. I sense a woman and two kids. My wife and children…

I leave and go downstairs. Have to warn them! They need to get out! I rush past things, making a breeze in my wake that moves papers, light shades and doors. Where are they? I can hear them, but they are not in any of the rooms.

Desperately, I search. I scream and scratch the walls.

‘Get out!’ I shout.

I don’t hear my voice, so I try again and again.

I fly around the house like a storm. Things get knocked over, smashes. I tip chairs and tables over. Strength I never had alive racing through me. Anger pounding inside of me, madness over taking.

I scream and scream. Try to rip my hair out. Try to squeeze my head in. All this rage!

I sit down. No voices, no sound, no sensing anyone.

My hands are red…

There’s blood around me. Splashed drops, smear lines, half of a hand print on a family photo.

What happened?

I try hard to think. Think about the events, about my family. I can’t grasp it and everything is tumbling away from me like a waterfall. The mist presses on me, all I can see is black. I let it take me. I have no choice.

 

 

This story was inspired by a prompt from here; http://www.everywritersresource.com/10-even-more-horrifying-horror-story-prompts/