Let Sleeping Evils Lie

By Brian Taylor

No one was sure whether or not the ruins beside the church at Ashley were haunted until a group of students with connections to the Ashley family, who had built the manor house the ruins had become, camped out in them in an attempt to prove that the ghosts said to haunt them didn’t exist. What happened as a result of that ill conceived interference with the occult by the students, left those involved certain enough the ruins were haunted, for them to have the spirits they had encountered there exorcised. That should have been the end of things, but as it turned out it was just the beginning. For some far greater evil than anyone involved there had ever encountered before, was set free as a result. What the students didn’t know, what nobody ever knew besides the people involved at the time, was that the family fortune and the house which had been built with it, had resulted from someone making a pact with the devil back in the 1600s, when the family’s fortune first began, for which their soul was forfeit at the end of the hundred years the family’s fortune lasted. What they also didn’t know was that there was a get out clause in the pact which allowed the man who had made it escape the eternal damnation he had signed up for if he could find another soul, however reluctant they might be, to take his place.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Taylor
• Release date: Mar 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463676714

Brian Taylor

Brian Taylor is an artist and illustrator who lives and draws in Scotland. Brian does not wear hats.

Book preview

Let Sleeping Evils Lie

By Brian W. Taylor

Copyright 2013 Brian W. Taylor

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PROLOGUE

They had been there amongst the ruins of Ashley Manor for several hours, drinking and carrying out the rituals the old document had told them would awaken the dead, without any obvious signs of ghostly activity of any sort arising from them, when they suddenly became aware there was something watching them.

It was the figure of a young girl with a horribly mutilated face. Hovering about a foot off of the ground, watching them dispassionately. Startled by her sudden appearance, Andy dropped his microphone, snatched a up camera, and took picture after picture of the apparition, whilst it hovered there unmoving.

Then someone, or something, somewhere out of sight began to scream and the screaming got louder and louder, as if whatever it was was screaming, was working itself up towards a crescendo of some sort. Wendy put her hands over her ears in an unsuccessful attempt to cut out the sound, but still the screaming went on. Then a feeling of indescribable malignancy and terror began to creep over them, numbing their minds and sending shiver after shiver across their flesh. It was as if some unspeakable horror was hidden just out of sight, which, if they only strained their eyes, they would have been able to see, if it wasn’t for some merciful presence which hid it from them.

Andy was still taking photos, oblivious to everything else except his scientific experiment, which had begun as a way of proving that ghosts didn’t exist, but now seemed to be proving the opposite to be the case.

Andy, Wendy implored in a trembling voice, please let's go. But he ignored her, intent only on taking more photographs.

Then, all of a sudden, Gerry stirred himself from the frozen state of horror the appearance of the ghost and the sound of the screaming had induced in him, and began tossing the equipment back into the car in spite of Andy's protests, We're going Wendy, he kept repeating over and over as he did so, We’re going.

It seemed at that moment that he was prepared to leave Andy behind if he didn’t come with them, but he, equally suddenly, agreed that they'd better get out, but not without Barry, the fourth member of their group, so they all went in search of him, because it seemed wiser not to separate.

They found Barry lying in a crumpled heap behind the ruins. He was very cold, and seemed unable to move at first, but after Gerry poured some whiskey down his throat he choked and stirred slightly. Then, after a few more drops he sat up and looked around. He was very shaky, and he couldn't, or wouldn't, say how he came to be in that state, but he was in full agreement that they had to get out as quickly as possible. It was clear from his behaviour he'd seen something the others hadn't, something that he couldn't bring himself to talk about.

Panic stricken, overwhelmed by fear of the unknown, they fled towards the car, and as they did so, the moon came out from behind a cloud. A full moon, which caused such a sudden transition from complete darkness to what was almost daylight, it snapped their last threads of reason. Shadows seemed to leap at them from all angles, and they were all struck by the fear they might now be able to see whatever it was that threatened them. There seemed only one course open to them. One way to find sanctuary. Head for the church. They’d be safe there.

So they started to run towards the church, but the ghost, apparently aware of their intentions, suddenly glided across their path, hovering in front of them, so that it was always between them and the church, and however hard they tried to get past, it it just glided along and headed them off. All the time staring at them without pity.

By now the feeling of terror within them all was growing to almost physical proportions, so they gave up their attempts to get into the church and headed back to the car at a run, scrambling into it like a rugby scrum when they got to it, but finding it wouldn't start when they did. Andy swore and jumped out again, grabbing up the starting handle and swinging it furiously, whilst Gerry flicked switches on the dashboard like a lunatic, until the car started at last, then he began to drive off without waiting for Andy to get back in.

Driving up to the church the field had been bumpy, but at least they had been going slowly then. Going back they were racing along, and in pitch darkness now, because the moon had gone back behind the clouds, and the car lights wouldn’t work for some reason. They raced blindly through the corn, then banged their way through the wood, scraping against trees they were unable to see in the darkness, but somehow got through. As they reached the road, the lights came back on just as suddenly as they’d gone out, but Gerry must have been blind with terror by then, because when the car reached the crossroads …….

CHAPTER ONE

She could only have been about eighteen or so. Slim, and with a face which was beautiful in a quiet sort of way. A sudden finger of sunshine shone through the window of the Merry Widow tea rooms, where we were sitting. Touching the blonde hair which cascaded to her shoulders, and contrasted with the deep green of her jacket. Warm blue eyes looked back at me uncertainly. I knew who she was - who she had to be – even though she’d only been a child when I’d seen her before.

You’re Linda Thomas aren’t you? After the warnings the old woman had given me about what would happen when I met her again, I needed to be sure. Why have you come looking for me?

She looked down at the tea she was stirring. Seeming to have to summon up the courage to say what she was going to say to me. I'm being haunted, she said quietly. Stopping her stirring to look up at me expectantly.

The silence was broken only by the sound of the rattling of crockery from the rear of the tea rooms. I don't really know what I'd expected her to say, but it wasn't this, and now I wasn't sure what answer to make, if answer she required. So I didn’t make one. Outside, the tapping of a bush against the window sounded uncannily loud.

She went back to stirring her tea, seeming to have to summon up the courage to say what she was going to say to me, and then, and without looking up at me again, said in a voice that was both sad and bitter, You don't believe me. Well I can't really blame you, nobody else did. It's just that you were my last hope.

Hold on a minute. I put my hand over hers as she rose to go. You haven't given me much chance to say whether I believe you or not. Try telling me the whole story, and let me judge from that.

I’m sorry, she smiled timidly at me. I suppose I've become so used to complete disbelief when I tell my story, I see it whether it's there or not. She relapsed into silence for a few minutes and then seemed to make up her mind. Okay, I’ll tell you. What have I got to lose?

She lowered her eyes to her steadily cooling cup of tea again and fingered her spoon nervously. It all began about two months ago when the Vicar came to the church youth club I belong to - well one I help to run really I suppose - being one of the older members – to lead a discussion about ghosts.

Which church youth club is this?

"St Michaels at Stockley. If you remember, I live at Pacton, but we haven’t got a church of our own there, so I go to the one at Stockley. Anyway, as I said, the Vicar came to give us a talk about ghosts, and that was really what started things off.

We have our regular meeting on a Sunday evening, you see. There aren’t many of us that go to that anymore – people aren’t interested – but I like them. It gives us a chance to discuss things and I enjoy that. I don't get much chance at home. You know how it is - Dad knows best, and that's an end to it. She glanced up at me and then blushed and dropped her eyes when she saw me smiling "I'm not telling this very well I'm afraid. Where was I? The Vicar came down to lead the discussion, and he told us what a lot of rubbish was talked about ghosts, and how people let their imaginations get the better of them and see things that aren't really there. I think there had been a spiritualist group come from London to watch in a haunted house somewhere around here, and that was what had started him off on the subject.

Well, we were discussing what he’d said about ghosts at the regular Friday meeting at the club the next week. Those of us who had been to the Sunday meeting were telling the others about it and you know how it is, some of us believed in ghosts, and some didn't, and then someone suggested trying to get in touch with the spirits and before we knew what was happening a lot of us were sitting around a table with our fingers on an upturned glass. I didn't really want to get involved, I thought that sort of thing was best avoided, but I didn’t want to look afraid so ..... Anyway, at first there was a lot of playing about and it was obvious that people were moving the glass with their fingers, but then it started to move itself. I don't think any of us quite realized what was happening at first. It was something we gradually became aware of. Then someone asked who the spirit was, and the glass spelled out Sarah. Then someone else asked where she came from and the answer came back, Near. Some of us were getting frightened by then, because it was obvious that this wasn’t a game anymore, but others, mostly the boys, wanted to carry on with the questioning, so it went on. Have you any message for us? Danger. For who? No answer. Is the person here? Yes. Who is it? No answer. Male or female? No answer. Then someone had the idea that we should each touch the glass in turn and see what the reaction was if the person being warned was to touch it. But I said no, because I really didn't want to get involved in that!"

What was the Vicar doing whilst all this was going on? I asked when she broke off her story as the memory of it obviously became too painful for her.

He didn't know anything about it. She said simply. "We were all in the girls cloakrooms, which are down in the basement. There's an empty floor between them and the club rooms.

I pretended to go and get a drink of water then, just to get out of having to touch the glass, but when I came back the others were all sitting waiting for me. One of them said, "We've all touched it, so now it's your turn." I shook my head and tried to go back upstairs but they got hold of me and forced my hand on to the glass. Twelve people had touched that glass before me, without a reaction of any sort, but as soon as my finger touched it the glass flew across the room and smashed itself against the wall on the far side of the cloakroom. At the same moment the lights flickered and went out.

Nobody moved for a few moments and then someone began screaming and screaming until I had to cover my ears to try to keep out the sound. Then the lights come back on and the screaming stopped. The funny thing was that nobody else had heard the screaming except me, and they thought that I was just making it up. Anyway, we shot out of the cloakroom and none of us have been back since."

A frightening tale. I don’t blame you for not going back, I began, but stopped as she frowned.

"I haven't finished yet. That was only the beginning of it. A few weeks later some kids saw a ghost out on the marshes. They said it was the ghost of a girl dressed in clothes from a few hundred years ago and that it was sort of shiny and walked across the surface of the water. They told us about this down at the club the next Friday, and as there was nothing much going on that night, everyone decided it would be a good idea to go ghost hunting. Everyone except me that is. I didn’t want to go but my boyfriend hadn’t been there when we held the séance, and he didn’t want to be left out of this. He wouldn't let me syay behind witout him, though, so I had to go along.

We set off after the club had finished and went out across the marshes until we found somewhere to sit along the dyke. It was fun at first. There were a lot of us, and we sat there laughing and singing, and it was just like being at camp, but after an hour or so a lot of them got fed up with waiting and went home. I would have gone with them but Ron, he's my boyfriend, wouldn't let me, so I had to stay.

It was eerier then with just four or five of us sitting in the darkness. For another half hour or so nothing happened, and then we saw a light way out across the marshes. It was only a pin prick when it first appeared, but then it started to grow bigger and bigger as it got nearer until it gradually took the shape of a woman. She wasn't white, though, like I thought a ghost would be - just a sort of faded grey colour, as if I was seeing her on television on a day when the reception wasn't very good. She was wearing a long, old fashioned dress, and had hair that hung down to her waist.

All the time that she was approaching us it seemed that we were all held speechless and motionless by some sort of spell, until she was only about twenty yards from us, and then my friend, Jill,