Twelve Tales of the Strange & Bizarre

By David Seyforth

Twelve Tales of the Strange & Bizarre, is a selection of short dark stories with a twist. Including...

Glitch in the Brain, a truly unforeseen medical rarity.

La Famillé, an over indulgence acquiring perfection, but with severe consequences.

Tenement, a surreal and ghostly connection transmitted through a laptop.

Livi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspirit
• Release date: Dec 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781838245313

David Seyforth

David comes from a showbiz family, working in the theatre, television and films and has now embarked on a career in writing.

Book preview

1

Séance

The seven people gathered in the dimly lit room within the small church. Laura had managed to persuade her friend to come along, although it wasn't really her thing.

The medium was a small lady, probably in her fifties, her long auburn hair tied at the back. She sat upright in her seat, closed her eyes, and began breathing slowly and deeply, which went on for a couple of minutes before her head dropped to her chest. She remained in this position as the room fell silent in anticipation of what was about to happen. Eventually, her head lifted, her eyes staring straight ahead.

While pressing her hands firmly on the table, she expelled a lengthy exhale and whispered, Yes, ok!

The small group of people strained to hear, but she wasn't talking to them. Her voice grew stronger as she addressed the crowd: There's a lady here... who has a message for Maurice. Is there a Maurice with us?

A startled older man looked up...

Yes that's me I’m Maurice!

The medium continued, Joan said she's sorry she left you so suddenly; there was no time to say goodbye! She’s watching over you... and to tell you... don't forget to turn the light off in the toilet! There was a slight chuckle within the group which lightened the atmosphere.

Maurice glanced down and wiped a tear from his eye.

Joan is becoming distant... fading... she's gone.

Thank you, said Maurice, his voice breaking.

The medium's head once again slowly slumped to her chest. After a short time, she looked up again. I've got the name Amy, is Amy with us?

Laura’s friend looked embarrassed.

Once again, the medium called out, Amy, are you here with us?

Laura turned to her friend with excitement. This is Amy! she said. A couple of people from the group craned their necks to see who was receiving the message.

Yes... I'm Amy! she said, her face red with embarrassment.

The medium looked down and closed her eyes. No, No! This lady wants to speak to her daughter Amy. The medium glanced across at Amy in slight confusion. "The lady who's talking to me has been in the spirit world for several years! She has a bright red scarf tied around her head... and supporting herself with a dark brown walking stick with a silver metal tip... she tells me... she had polio which left her right leg very weak!'

Yes! That sounds like my mother! said Amy, turning to Laura.

The medium looked across at Amy. This lady who is with me sounds confused... but seems to be saying... the will! Did Amy sort out the will?

Yes, it was sorted out, said Amy, her face now flushed from the sudden attention she was getting.

The medium carried on, Your mother seems very distressed and I can't quite understand what she wants? She's starting to fade... can't quite... sorry, she's gone.

To Amy's relief, the medium moved on to another member of the group. The séance lasted about two hours, and afterwards, tea and biscuits were served in a separate room.

Well, that was strange, said Laura. I still can't believe a message came through for you, and what was that about the will?

Yes, it was very strange and unexpected. As you know, in her will, everything was left to me. That was over six years ago now.

Well, your mother certainly sounded a bit confused, said Laura.

Yes, well that was my mother for you!

Amy arrived back at her house at 8 PM. It was a smart-looking semi-detached property on the outskirts of town. She was greeted by her cat, Lester, a large tabby she picked up two years earlier from a rescue centre. He nuzzled against her legs which made her feel more at ease.

Aside from Lester, Amy lived alone in the house. There was now no evidence of Vincent. She got rid of him a few years ago, and as far as she was concerned, he never existed. Pouring a large glass of wine, she flopped down in the armchair with Lester on her lap, wondering how it got so out of control... Let's go back to the beginning.

The year was 2004, and Vincent decided to leave the family home and move into a studio flat. The explosive rows at home were getting worse between him and his mother; they never really saw eye-to-eye and never would. His mother always favoured his sister as they had more in common and could talk on women's subjects.

Having been born a twin, you both normally think alike and have an uncanny thought process where you know what the other was thinking! Unfortunately, this wasn't the case with Vincent and Amy. He found his sister just about bearable to be around and it seemed to get worse as time went on. Amy suffered from Type 1 diabetes which brought her even closer to her mother, as regular insulin injections were needed to keep it under control. Due to this general concern, she became the centre of attention at home.

Vincent knew he had been born into the wrong body and this had to be the worst nightmare to go through in your life: living a constant lie and dealing with heavy emotions every day. For people like Vincent in his inevitable position, he was now desperate to take the ultimate step of gender reassignment, which he knew could prove traumatic not only for his body but also his mental state. Not to forget, expensive, if he undertook surgery privately. Once you go under that surgeon's knife, there's no turning back!

Vincent knew he wasn't gay; he just knew at a very early age in his life that there was something fundamentally wrong within his body. He knew he was different and there was a female waiting to emerge.

Over the years, he tried hard to confide in his sister about how he felt, but she thought he was just sick in the head and told him so on numerous occasions. He felt isolated and totally alone.

Within weeks of Vincent leaving home, his mother became very ill with pneumonia, and because of her confused state of mind and underlying health conditions, she wasn't expected to survive more than a couple of months. Amy nursed her to the final end.

The funeral was a quiet affair. Just a handful of people turned up at the small chapel. Amy hardly spoke to Vincent and seemed to avoid him at every chance she got; he felt like a total outsider at his own mother's funeral.

He managed to find out through a friend of his sister that his mother had given everything, including the house, to Amy in her will. Vincent was totally excluded and left with nothing, and his only hope of surgery had now vanished.

The weeks that followed were not a good time for Vincent. He started drifting into a deep depression and felt totally worthless; he couldn't see a future for himself and there didn't seem to be much point in going on. But it was then, in his confused state of mind, that things started to escalate out of control.

On that fateful night, Vincent went back to the family home, although now it was Amy's home. Using a screwdriver, he gently levered the backdoor open, keeping as quiet as possible. He knew every creaking floorboard within the house. Despite the sheer darkness, he made his way along the hallway. The only sound he heard came from the old grandfather clock. Each tick seemed to amplify with his every step, echoing throughout the house. He took off his shoes to help bring the noise to a minimum.

Quietly, as if treading on eggshells, he climbed the stairs and walked into the bathroom, carefully opening the medicine cabinet. As expected, there were boxes of syringes and several bottles of insulin on the shelf. He took a fresh syringe and pushed it through the soft top of the insulin bottle, slowly drawing back the plunger and filling it to the top.

There was no turning back now as he turned the handle on Amy's bedroom door and slowly crept over to her bed. Amy lay peacefully asleep in a foetal position on her right side. Over the years, she had helped his mother make his life hell; all emotion and reason had now gone from his mind. It was as if he'd entered another body. A spike of adrenaline pulsed through his body as he knew he had to do this quickly and quietly.

He peeled the covers from the bed and injected her left leg just below the hip. Every drop of insulin was delivered and quickly sped through her veins. She shot up with a sudden jolt! Her eyes remained half-closed. Vincent leant over and cupped her mouth while putting his weight down on his dying sister’s head.

Tears started to trickle down his cheeks. Sleep dear, Amy, sleep.

He sat motionless on the bed for several minutes although it felt like hours. All he could hear was his own erratic breathing and the sound of his heart trying to break through his ribcage.

The body had to be discarded; this was one thing he had thought out carefully as the timing and precision was of the utmost importance. He wrapped Amy in several cotton sheets and placed her into a large black hold-all bag. Due to his heightened state, this wasn’t too difficult.

He gradually dragged the bag downstairs and into in the garden, slowly pulling it across the lawn on Amy's final journey. The grass was overgrown, so he didn't think it would cause any suspicion. Sweating and covered in earth, he dug the hole until it was deep enough, placing Amy in it and finishing the job.

He concocted a carefully worded note saying Amy had decided to go away to grieve over her mother's death as it had left her unable to cope. It all seemed plausible. The writing wasn't perfect but looked similar to Amy's.

The will was being handled by the family solicitor, and luckily for Vincent, the solicitor hadn't met either of the children as any legal matters had been dealt with by his late mother.

Everything hinged on Vincent playing this next part well. The wig was easy enough to find as were fitting into his sister's clothes. Being twins, they were very much alike in both height and stature. He had to do a lot of work on his voice, it needed to be raised a couple of tones to make it sound more feminine.

A date was set to sign all the paperwork. It was Saturday morning when the solicitor’s letter dropped on the mat. It read: Tuesday 24th May, 10 AM.

Tuesday 24th eventually came around. Vincent was feeling very apprehensive as he left his studio flat, but quietly confident he could pull it off.

At 10.45 AM, he walked out of the solicitor’s office. Once outside, he removed the large dark glasses which he thought were a good touch, giving the appearance of a grieving daughter. As he walked down the street, he stopped and caught his reflection in a shop window. A smile broke across his face; a smile that hid the sheer audacity of what he just got away with.

The family home was eventually sold at auction for a quick sale, and as far as anyone was concerned, Amy had sold up and moved abroad to start a new life.

Within six weeks, the money was transferred to his account, although now, it was her account as it was opened in the name, Amy Fisher. Vincent had taken everything including her identity! This, at last, gave him the finance he needed for that important operation. It was something he was desperate to go ahead with, and after a great deal of research, it was to be performed in Switzerland.

Within six weeks, he returned to England as a woman. It took her several months to fully recuperate as the lengthy operation had proved extremely painful and the healing process took longer than anticipated.

Now, some six years later, and going along with her friend, Laura, to the séance that day brought back all the intense guilt and emotion, making her feel vulnerable and uneasy. But she felt compelled to go back again, but this time on her own.

When she returned to the small church, there were seven or eight other people there hoping to get a message from departed loved ones. She sat down near the back, acknowledged a couple of people and waited for the medium.

There was silence as the lady made her way up on to the platform and sat down. It was a different medium this time. A tall, thin lady expressed just the hint of a smile as she looked around at the small group in front of her. Like the previous medium, she was probably in her early fifties. Long, jet-black hair with flecks of grey draped her shoulders while large rectangular tinted glasses rested delicately on the bridge of her nose, almost too big for her thin face. Her voice was strong and confident as she welcomed everyone to the meeting, hoping that some of them would get a message.

There was total silence while she composed herself. The lights were slightly dimmed and her head remained upright, her eyes closed and her hands spread apart on the table in front. She started to breathe deeply, a broad smile soon appearing.

Her eyes opened. "I've got someone who wants to speak to Betty... do we have a Betty with us? Can anyone take this? I'm drawn towards the front row.

A large lady with a ruddy complexion and light grey hair put her hand up. My name is Beatrice! But my friends call me Betty.

Amy was sitting in the seat just behind her and looked slightly nervous.

I've got your brother, Tom, with me. I understand he's only recently passed. Betty's hand immediately cupped her mouth and her eyes began welling up. The medium continued, He wants you to know... he's happy... and free of pain. There was a slight pause. "He's with... your mother