God of Odd

By L Lyott

'At the time, we assumed it was all fun and trickery arranged for the occasion- several sessions later, we learned otherwise. The creepy events we were to witness in that old house were indeed very mystical, and I might add, for us, life-changing. The house, the tales and what happened there were, all in all, odd with a capital ‘O’. Today, I need to tell the story of those tales...

L Lyott's Tales from The God of Odd is a collection of eclectic creations, a homage to the likes of The Twilight Zone; tales of death and dreams, revenge and justice, mysterious sightings, hauntings, evil, magic... The Odd. All told in one overall original tale of the supernatural- with a surprise ending.

Watch the video at https://youtu.be/zVbbv3ZGQVA Lyott's website is You Will Believe dot com

• Language: English
• Publisher: L Lyott
• Release date: Aug 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005017750

L Lyott

L Lyott is from a working-class background and since childhood days in East London has been inspired by the mystery and imagination of the classic Sci-Fi/Horror creators of TV shows, comic books and cinema- The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, Strange Tales, Weird Worlds and endless movies. L Lyott is consequently a writer of Retro- Sci-Fi/Horror with a love for the paranormal.As a child, Leslie had night time hallucinations and plenty of nightmares but these experiences only furthered the desire for the strange and the paranormal.

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God of Odd

L Lyott

Copyright © 2021 L Lyott

Published by Eggo Publishing at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

1. The God of Odd- part one, October

2. The Shape on the Road

3. Root of Evil

4. Journey’s End

5. The God of Odd- part two, February

6. Grimoire

7. Snowflakes

8. The God of Odd- part three, June

9. In The Dark

10. Future Green

11. In the Skies

12. The God of odd- part four, October

13. He’s Going Down

14. The Escapologist

15. The God of Odd- part five, September

About The Author

L Lyott's website is youwillbelieve.com

Here’s the video... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUyf6KpXKkg

1. The God of Odd- part one, October

Neither of us moved. We just stood there, peering through the late autumn jungle of overgrown, half-dead shrubbery and weeds. We were just eleven-year-old kids back then- I didn’t even have the guts to open the front gate. The house was huge and very run down. What we could see of it, the house was covered in dark ivy, and the windows had internal shutters, closed to the outside world. It looked like no one had lived there for years. It was not what either of us had imagined, and neither of us could ever have imagined what consequences lay ahead.

Now that we’d seen the loneliness of the place, I wondered whether we should venture on, or as I was now thinking, we should change our minds. I recalled the rumours we’d heard when we’d asked around- rumours that were exciting and believable to eleven-year-olds. One rumour was that the old girl who lived there was filthy rich and had a treasure of sorts kept somewhere secret in the house. Another was that there was a curse that no one seemed to know anything about, and then there was lots of other stuff such as séances used to be held there, the God of Odd was the lady herself, and best of all, the house was haunted by a previous owner- also an old lady- who been hacked to death by some crazy local. What kid would not find a place with all that going for it enticing beyond irresistible? But, when I was stood there, standing at the front gate staring at the old house and imagining all manners of scary stuff, it didn’t appear so enticing, on top of which, we were working-class kids from another neighbourhood and we didn’t belong in a place like this, regardless of who or what was behind the door. My stomach spoke to me, warning me that I should not have fallen in so easily with Richie and his risky ideas. Richie, ever the brave one, hadn’t changed his mind- if it were not for his bravery I’d have no story to tell and me and Richie would still be mates. The latch spring groaned as Richie slowly pushed the gate wide open.

Between a few lonely cypress trees, a narrow chequered pathway of broken and untidy tiles led up to the front door which, along with its dingy porch and part of a large bay window that reached to the eaves, was all that had been visible from the street. One hand on the open gate, Richie adjusted his woolly hat with the other. He stepped forward and let the gate fall back for me to hold open. My busy butterflies were giving me regrets, but I did what I always did- I followed Richie. Richie had been a great friend. He’d regularly got me into capers, but we always survived and were always best pals.

As we marched boldly up to the front door, hands deep in our coat pockets, we briefly observed the house’s creepy, dilapidated splendour. Then we saw the note pinned to the frame of the porch. It was a scruffy, handwritten note in very large capital letters- the same invitation we’d seen in the shop window a week before...

Come all and listen to the tales from The God of Odd.

Although, like the shop window card, there was the date and the time but nothing saying adults only, Richie had suggested from the start, ‘Don’t tell your mum and dad- they’ll only say you can’t go.’ He was right, and so they thought we were wandering Wanstead Park, as we usually did on a Sunday afternoon.

Richie lifted the brass knocker and let it hammer down loud enough to startle me, and then we waited, quietly. As we stared at the door in utter silence, I wondered if despite his calm face, Richie’s heart was perhaps dancing, just a little, like mine was- probably not. Close buddies, we were, but alike we were not- I was a chicken. Through the frosty glass and net curtains of the door, we saw a movement. An indistinguishable white shape slowly and eerily bobbed and wavered as it drifted towards the door- and towards us. We waited whilst someone took forever to undo the bolts and latches and finally open the door.

An old woman dressed in an unusually old-fashioned white dress- a bit like a Hollywood star from the silver screen days- looked down at us with an unnerving blank expression, ‘Yes?’ she said, in a high pitched frail voice. Richie did the talking, ‘We come to ‘ear the tales from the God of Odd.’

After an inexplicable long delay, the old woman’s face suddenly changed. She stared with a squinting smile that was even more unnerving than her expressionless face had been. She spoke again, exclaiming in her crackly tone,

‘The God of Odd!’

We waited, puzzled by her reply, but then she added, ‘We don’t normally have children come to the readings. Do your parents know you are here?’

Richie was quick with, ‘Yer.’ and without changing her smile, she said, ‘Ok then, why not? Come in!’ She slowly stepped to one side and beckoned us in with a skinny outstretched arm.

We stood in the entrance hall and waited for her to close the front door and then open the door to the living room- the lounge -what we at home would call the front room. When the door was opened wide, there was an immediate smell of burning candles. She told us to go in and take a seat. While we hesitated, she turned and left us.

The room was large and very dark. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we saw there were no other guests. The candles, strategically placed around the room on various shelving, furniture tops and the fireplace mantelpieces, were the only source of light. The yellow flames gave a faded amber glow to the darkness. The flickering shadows of several large ornaments swayed slowly on the walls. On the ceiling, the chandeliers cast more moving shadows. Had we not been alone- the first to arrive- I would not have had such an uneasy, uncomfortable feeling. Me and Richie both lived in small terraced houses- neither of us had ever been inside such a large and posh house before. We were proverbial fish out of water.

When we stepped into the room, I was surprised to notice that the room was, in fact, two rooms- the front and the back rooms combined- but there were large double doors that were room dividers opened up to create one very large space, most of which was taken up by rows of chairs neatly set out to face the rear of the house. In the rear half, heavy velvet drapes concealed the French doors to the rear garden. We moved around the chairs, to the only free space. Very prominently, in the middle of this space and stood on a large and tatty eastern rug, was a large leather chair with huge side wings. This was the reader’s chair. To one side of the high backed chair was an ornate white marble fireplace and on the other side of the chair, a tall mahogany plant stand- not for a plant but a very fat candle in a large brass holder. The candle was a mass of cascading wax drippings- like a prop from a gothic horror movie. We weren’t used to seeing classy furniture or such big rooms with high ornate ceilings- it was a real novelty, but we didn’t exactly feel at home. On top of that, the house, though extravagant and once luxuriant, was now very much dilapidated and quite dreary. The atmosphere was uncomfortably and spooky. My butterflies had settled but my mind had not.

We chose the two middle seats, directly in front of the reader’s chair, and there we sat staring around us, trying to feel relaxed. The many strange ornaments and several dark pictures hanging on the walls were all austere and gave me the creeps. Behind us, stood on a dark wooden cabinet in the corner of the front room, I noticed a stuffed creature in a glass box. This interested me. I stood up to go see it up close, but at that point, the sound of the heavy door knocker broke the silence. I immediately sat back down alongside Richie. The two of us twisted around to look behind us. We heard the old lady tottering to the door and then the front door open, followed by calm and very quietly mumbled greetings. When we sensed adults were about to enter the room we turned back around and faced the front.

Over the next ten minutes or so, more adults arrived. They all sat behind us at the back, mostly in silence but occasionally muttering very quietly. Not one spoke to us, not on that day or any of the other sessions we later attended. This, along with the house, the old lady host and the reader, assured us that it was not only the tales that were odd. After that first session, there were happenings we witnessed that bordered on the supernatural. During readings, strange sounds were sometimes heard. Scarier still was when objects would inexplicably fall or move. At the time, we assumed it was all fun and trickery arranged for the occasion- several sessions later, we learned otherwise. The creepy events we were to witness in that old house were indeed very mystical, and I might add, for us- life-changing. The house, the tales and what happened there were, all in all, odd with a capital ‘O’ and I need to tell those tales.

It was no wonder that the kids were eventually banned. However, six months after the ban, the cards in the shop window no longer appeared and we heard the tales were no more. But even after this, I got to know of many more tales from The God of Odd, and I will need to explain how this was.

I remember clearly the first tales from that first session- and from all of the sessions that me and Richie attended before the readings were closed to anyone under the age of eighteen. That first tale was called The Shape on The Road.

2. The Shape on the Road

He would usually do the driving and she would usually sit quietly in the passenger’s seat, but sometimes she preferred to do the driving- like the morning they were heading down into town for the weekend market. The drive through the forest, along the bendy hillside on a summer morning, made driving worthwhile. She happily sat at the wheel, pulling it through her hands bend after bend- flickering sunlight at one bend, shadows at another. He relaxed, enjoying the occasion-no radio playing, just the quiet, cool sounds of the motor. Near silence, watching the movement of the view and feeling the movement of the vehicle, was therapy. Conversation wasn’t required, but sooner or later, it happens. Almost as though she was thinking aloud, she told him, I do hope they still have that rug. I really should have bought it the last time we were there. No response for a second or two, but then, Why didn’t you? I don’t know. I guess if I bought everything I took a fancy to we’d be broke. No pause this time for his reply, You do and we are! They shared the joke with a smile, and then, reaching out and digging her fingers into his knee, she said, I’m worth it though ain’t I babe? Well... he looked at her and she quickly glanced at him, Most of the time. he quickly added, with a big 'so so' grin and a nod of his head.

It was a perfect morning for the drive and they were both full of the optimism that summer mornings can bring. That morning the traffic had been particularly low and their spirits particularly high. Since they’d hit the road they’d seen, perhaps, just two other cars. Empty roads, clear sunny morning and being together with time on their side were how they loved it to be. Life can be good and on this morning life was good.

The couple were childless, still relatively young and still enjoying the youth of their relationship. They both had positive views of life and of the future- in short, they were happy and content people and probably more so than most.

After another five minutes of calm quietness, something moving in the forest caught his attention. He watched and wondered what it was. When it was gone he was still thinking about it, trying to work out what it could have been. He was then thinking that, maybe, his eyes had deceived him but, whilst he was thinking that, he saw it again. This time he spoke up,

Hey! He sat up from his lounging position and looked over his shoulder. He turned back, I just saw something in the woods. She teased him, There’s always something in the woods. His voice was serious and with a little