A Change In The Weather

Tobias lay in bed, propped up with a pillow, holding the bed sheet up to his nose in an attempt to quell the feeling of rising terror. The table lamp beside him was still on, but it did little to calm his fears, instead it bathed the room with a feeble orange glow that just made the room seem even spookier.

He reached to turn the light off, fumbling for the switch, not daring to take his eyes off the chair in front of the window at the foot of the bed. He lay there for a few more moments in the pitch black waiting for his vision to grow accustomed to the dark.

Moonlight shone through the little window, illuminating the chair. Perhaps what had happened before had been a dream after all, he thought, and he finally allowed himself to close his eyes with relief.

As he lay there, the same cold air started to blow around the bed that last night he thought was a draught. It was noticeable enough this time though to make him open his eyes and lift his head to look back in the direction of the chair.

And then right in front of his eyes, from out of nowhere, the delicate figure of a girl in a dirty torn bridal dress slowly materialised. As it did so, the sound of tiny pitiful sniffles filled the room. By now his eyes were wide-open with fear and his heart pounded a deafening beat as it tried to burst its way out of his chest.

The girl stood up slowly and walked over to the window, turning to stare at Tobias momentarily before casually passing right through the closed door.

Tobias opened his mouth to scream but it was no use, he was far too scared. He’d reached that level where mere fear had given way to terror, which in turn had given way to some higher emotion.

And then much to his own surprise, he found himself getting out of bed - but not before confirming that he’d left his camera in the camper - and opening the door. He followed in the direction of the girl, dressed only in his pyjamas and slippers.

The girl floated slowly down the corridor, down the stairs with its threadbare carpet and out through the cold kitchen with its greasy stink. Tobias tiptoed after her making the floorboards creak with every step, eventually ending up in the still-warm and smoky lounge bar. The final embers of the fire were still glowing lazily in the hearth.

Tobias watched as the girl disappeared behind the bar and sank slowly into the floor.

He hurried over as quick as he could, but when he’d got there – much to his dismay - he’d found that she’d vanished completely. There was a trapdoor by his feet, so he knelt down, grappled with the handle and slung the door open. A gust of cold fusty air bellowed up from below and he tried to fight back a choke as he squinted into the inky depths.

He could see the top of the girl’s head sinking into the blackness of the cellar below.

Tobias stamped around the bar in a fluster not knowing what to do. Then he grabbed a tumbler from the bar top, filled it with whisky from a nearby optic and downed it in one.

Trying to choke back another cough whilst the drink seared his throat, he started his descent down the ladder with eyes shut tightly, muttering to himself about how bad an idea this really was. In the dark distance he could just make out little echoes of sobs coming from the gloom.

Eventually he finally stood at the bottom engulfed in blackness, fumbling blindly for the light switch as the sobs and sniffles got louder by the second.

‘Please god, let there be a light switch!’ he whimpered to himself, half in terror.

Finally, there was a click, and the light blinded him briefly.

Rows upon rows of steel and wooden barrels were set aside against one wall, with a multitude of hoses and pipes attached to them. The hoses snaked serpentine-like along the corridor twisting and turning over each other like snakes. There was an old wooden chest against one of the walls, securely padlocked with heavy chains. Was this the chest with that famous dragon-slaying axe in it?

But he had no time to find out, because unnervingly, at the end of the room, the little girl in the dress stood looking straight at him with her back against the far wall. His heart skipped a beat.

Fighting for words, he finally took a deep breath and was able to speak.

‘Rosemary?’

The name echoed hollowly around the cellar walls.

He waited for a reply, but instead she impossibly backed away through the far wall of the cellar, seamlessly absorbed into the stonework. He ran over quickly, desperately feeling along the wall with his hands trying to find a way through. The cellar was obviously old and there were fixtures there that hadn’t seen the light of day for well over five hundred years. Huge iron nails and hooks were embedded into timber beams and he desperately tried pulling them all, but to no avail.

‘Come on! There must be something! Anything!’ he cried in frustration.

But nothing worked. Maybe there wasn’t a tunnel down here after all, he thought. Or maybe there was, and it had been bricked up in the last century or something.

He slunk down dejectedly against the wall, his head in his hands.

Down by his feet was a foot grate in the floor, which he kicked in temper hurting his toes. He cried out loud and held his foot, remembering that he was only wearing slippers.

Suddenly there was a deep groan of rusted iron and grinding stone as part of the wall slowly swung open behind him, revealing a narrow passageway. Cold air rushed in, filling the cellar with the smell of damp earth.

He wasted no time and quickly stumbled through, searching for the girl. He could just make her out in the distance, lit by the moonlight at the end of the tunnel.

‘Wait!’ he shouted, running after her, chasing his echoing words down the passageway… Continue Reading »