Eerie Sounds Around the Corner Bound

By Cassius James

Have there ever been times when you found yourself drifting aimless as a cloud, heading into nowhere? No direction, no focus, no hope? Living moment to moment and from hustle to hustle, but never losing that innocence of self? Never giving up on adventure and fairy tales, where magic is real, and it must be a way out? A world where fantasy and reality blur into oneness? Where you know the truth lies in your imagination of what is on the other side and what lies beyond that mirror?
In this enchanting book, Cassius James takes you on a journey through mysticism, fantasy, lost and gained loves, hope, mystery, intrigue and wonder – in a world where everything is possible, and nothing is what it seems. Who can be trusted? There is only one woman who seems to be touched with powers ready for this challenge. With her magic, grace, beauty and innocence, she will take you on this voyage of enchantment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398416857

Cassius James

Cassius James was born in the north region of Wales in October 1974. He always felt lucky to be blessed with the tongue of English language. From an early age, his eldest sister, Nicole, used to read the Narnia books to him. He was always fascinated by books and enjoyed reading. Mr James’s grandma used to buy books for him, such as Hound of the Baskervilles, The Pit, and The Pendulum, as well as poetry. It is something that developed into a fascination and passion for words. He found the books evocative, emotive, and wonderful. Mr James’s infused imagination and passion for reading and writing begun at the early age of five. As he grew older, Mr James developed curiosity about various literary festivals, and attended such, as well as other literary events around the country, including the Edenborough festival in 2012. Over the last 10 years, Mr James has written numerous anthologies, handwritten five novels, and about 4000 poems over the last 15 years. Whisper me truths that seldom know, And capture tears that come and flow. Tell me all that comes to you, When banished within all lost not true. Honour me now with wide eyed game, And tell me with promise you’ll see me again. Wonder at loss how it thieves the time, When we had all and you were mine. Never lose that chain you tore away, And give him our memory in false play. Never be weak next to the stone, With tears remember when I was your own.

Book preview

About the Author

Cassius James was born in the north region of Wales in October 1974. He always felt lucky to be blessed with the tongue of English language. From an early age, his eldest sister, Nicole, used to read the Narnia books to him. He was always fascinated by books and enjoyed reading.

Mr James’s grandma used to buy books for him, such as Hound of the Baskervilles, The Pit, and The Pendulum, as well as poetry. It is something that developed into a fascination and passion for words. He found the books evocative, emotive, and wonderful. Mr James’s infused imagination and passion for reading and writing begun at the early age of five.

As he grew older, Mr James developed curiosity about various literary festivals, and attended such, as well as other literary events around the country, including the Edenborough festival in 2012.

Over the last 10 years, Mr James has written numerous anthologies, handwritten five novels, and about 4000 poems over the last 15 years.

Whisper me truths that seldom know,

And capture tears that come and flow.

Tell me all that comes to you,

When banished within all lost not true.

Honour me now with wide eyed game,

And tell me with promise you’ll see me again.

Wonder at loss how it thieves the time,

When we had all and you were mine.

Never lose that chain you tore away,

And give him our memory in false play.

Never be weak next to the stone,

With tears remember when I was your own.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my beloved, Tami Tam, who never doubted me for one moment, whom I love very, very much, and who has inspired my imagination.

Copyright Information ©

Cassius James 2022

The right of Cassius James to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398416840 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398416857 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Chapter One

The whirring breeze whispered something of the secret, something of the profound and held the very breath of those who witnessed its random beauty that spread across the Abbey stone floor. All was silent. All was held aloft steeped in the most curious of fashions, as the air danced and tricked the still night, silent in its wondrous randomness and majestic beauty. The trees arced and swayed to and fro as if in some crazed ritualistic dance. The dying leaves rushed into one corner then another, busying them away, then together, then away, in eddy like fashion, as though the leaves were bear witness to something impending whisper of truths. The autumnal night was dark and long, and the sleeping Io curled foetal and motionless amidst the murmuring breath across the land. Birdsong was absent in the city of Misty at this time, a subliminal sheen of reassurance somehow kept all in order in natural symmetries. Io was in her early twenties, and as tough on the outside as the very stoned Abbey that happened to ring all around her that night, as though in defiance to anyone or anything to even try and harm this most vulnerable of creatures.

A heavy Turner sky shifted and morphed and changed subtly in colours… purples, sapphire, maroon, then a flash of brightness fracturing light and even reality. The newly born night cradled the laying Io in her lost and almost pre-birth state of unconsciousness, alone and sucking her thumb unknowingly. A nearby old lamp buzzed with busy life around its glass case, an occasional thump could be heard as insects bumped into it unwittingly.

The Abbey itself were all this was set, was an ancient yet relevant site, holy to some, meeting place to others, sanctuary to the dedicated few, stood proud and imposing at the heart of Misty city, as though it was the very heartbeat of the city itself. There was a beauty, a silent beauty that just eclipsed a manner of disruption an imaginary menace that circled the Abby that night, that solemn night that just wouldn’t sleep.

Io just slept. Her imaginings slipped her into a world of mystery and intrigue. She lay still on the Abbey grounds. Dirty and weary. Her fingers blue and looked as though they had numbness that crept slowly and formidably all over her young and tired body. She twitched as she slept, pulling her body tighter into the foetal position, smaller than it already was. A light rain began to impose itself across the land. It gave sheen all over Io and her bare legs, she began shivering in the cold subconsciously, and her teeth chattered alarmingly like some crazy cartoon.

Io drifted. She was in medieval times in a private court. A strange and enigmatic jester like character was dancing and prancing around the place. Io was completely captivated by this most mercurial of specimens. He was small in stature yet athletic and beautiful; her gaze was fixed and awed upon him. She was part of a noble family, and she was dressed in complete finery and ornate shawls and adornments. Io smiled in her sleep and smiled deep in her fantasy world in her mind. She was forgetting herself in some way and was somewhat hypnotised by the jester and his wondrous magic. Bells rang out from his toes and wrists making song as he went about the court, athletically and acrobatically moving with fluency and grace. He was like a physical, moving painting. Timeless and elegant, beautiful yet vulnerable.

Outside in the grounds of the Abbey, Io was shivering disturbingly and woke with a start. Oh my, this weather is killing me! I must retreat and find some shelter; I can’t feel my limbs I feel so numb. She uttered to herself. With that outward thought, Io straightened her body on the cold, cold stone floor and quickly discovered that she was wet and cold. The weather was cruel and uncompromising. She had to get moving and fast. She was young in her years, but Io was losing fast in her physicality and general appearance. Still in her early twenties and by all accounts looking even younger, it was internally that her ailments were apparent. She had stumbled to her feet. It was still early in a soggy and unforgiving Sunday morning, and Io was unsure as to where she was going to go or how on earth, she was going to find shelter.

The whisper of whirring air surrounded her all about and the surrounding Abbey hummed it would seem with whispers and looks that Io was all too aware of. She could not put her finger on it, but she felt like she was being watched in some way. She felt images. Strange and curious images shifting around her in the deathly still of the night. It did not alarm her in the slightest bit, she was not easily spooked by such imaginaries, but all the same it was happening and it seemed to her that it could be some impending omen of some kind or secret message that was meant for her and only for her. She would let it go. She let it go and continued stumbling around the Abbey grounds like a feral animal looking for a feed. Io stumbled. Something caught her toe and hurt her terribly and sent her falling to the wet ground with a deathly thump. Cursing and rubbing furiously at her left toe, Io tried hard to look at the stone floor to see what she could see had been the culprit of her fall.

There on ground was a wrought iron hoop that was the size of a small saucer. She seemed bemused and curious about it and sat in the wet just looking at it. Her anger subsided and her inner wonder took the better of her and she decided to take a closer look at the mysterious iron hoop that was displayed there on the grey stony floor. Her eyes widened as she felt with her fingers the deep edge of the rim of what seemed to be a huge trap door of some kind. Her fingers felt as though they could just snap off, the cold was that bad and cruel. Her knees felt as though they weren’t there at all. She got to work. The rain was still light, and the wind howled like some creepy story been whispered to all that could hear. All along Io felt like she was being watched. It wasn’t any sort of paranoia it was tangible and real, as real as this sorry night and its freezing temperatures with it. She was making good progress. The rim of the trap door was completely exposed, and it was visible to the naked eye the ominous oblong door that seemed to instantly draw in Io and her imagination. It looked heavy and old; Io knew that she would have to have something of great strength to get the door open. She would have to find an old rope or a thinnest of branches to hoist up through the hoop that was exposed on the outside. She looked around.

The Abbey was quite desolate with nothing around as she could see, it was very cold indeed and she would have to get some shelter of some sort quick and come back to all this later… it was still early, about five-thirty in the morning and she needed to get to a hostel fast. She fumbled into her pocket of her coat and found a crumpled and worn twenty-pound note. It was enough; she could get into the local sit-up for the night. She had been so tired and drunk that she collapsed in the old Abbey and forgot everything. Yes, that is what she would do. Cold was creeping into her very mind itself and was giving her a confused state of thinking. She zigzagged out of the Abbey and worked her way out on to the street and unforgiving coldness.

The night was relentless and gripping in every sense of the word. Io was seeing separate images. She was partially still drunk from the night before. She was stumbling down Canada Street when a man caught her shoulder as he passed by her down the narrow street. Oh, I’m ever so sorry… are you alright? The man said clumsily, not maintaining eye contact. It’s okay. I’m rather drunk I don’t know who I am. The man smiled then bust into a sudden manic laugh that seemed irrational in some way. There was an awkward silence and it seemed to drag on and on until. Well, I’m looking for a hostel or something; I usually go to the Willow Grove and crash there… I’ve never felt so alone, will you walk with me for a while please? The man was struck with the complete innocence of her. He could not believe her most natural of beauty. She was short. About five feet three and curvy in a sexy way that stirred his loins. She was shy yet aware at the same time, unassuming yet flirty. Look, I’m kind of at a loose end, I’ll hang with you for a while and see how it all pans out, huh? Io let out a laugh that was as manic as his. It seemed to catch him a little off guard. He let out a smile; they linked arms and went on their way into the night towards the Willow Grove chattering as they went about…

The night was turning to dawn it took them a good half an hour to get there. They had stopped for a time or two on steps of old buildings and talked, there was a lot of flirting going on. The man’s name was Tristan; he was a farm hand not far from the area. He was handsome and six feet tall in his stature. A gentle, simple soul that had been known to lose his temper from time to time. Io felt instantly relaxed and somehow accustomed to sense of being. She could not explain it. It just was what it was. They approached the Willow Grove silently and with some trepidation, as though they were naughty school children expecting a spanking for being late. Tristan knocked on the door of the hostel there was no bell, just a peephole that looked ominous in some way. They stood and waited and waited. Eventually someone opened the little peephole, looked which seemed like an age and then eventually spoke. Who goes there? Do you know what time it is? The voice was male. As Tristan looked through, he could see the eye pulsing a purple colour. It made him pull back quickly and wince in some discomfort. Io grabbed his shoulder and looked confused and concerned. What is it? You look like death has whispered a terrible truth to you! Tristan stood motionless just looking at Io, she could feel the terror in his gaze that shook her to her core. Io shoved him out of the way to peek for herself. Inside the eye remained and spooked Io. Let us in, she yelled. The eye said nothing but stayed just were it was, motionless. PLEASE! Whoever you are, let us in it’s absolutely freezing out here. We mean no harm and we have money to pay for our stay. There was a heavy silence that lasted an age, then, the door slowly opened with a creek. The two of them looked at each other and gasped as they walked up to the door to look in.

Tristan walked in first. He could see nothing at all; it was completely black and smelt a horrible smell. The smell was that of damp and rotting meat of some kind, he could not put his finger on it. Io followed suit. She wretched as she tippy toed in. The man with the purple eye had a hood up and it was difficult to see his face in all the gloom and darkness. They pushed on. Every step echoed all around, it was almost physical in its sound. The pair automatically held each other’s hand as though some peculiar ritual was going on. The hall was old and gothic and screamed secrets from the past. The old man behind them had disappeared into the night. Suddenly scuttling across the floor was what seemed like a giant rat. It disappeared into the corner and fell silent. Io felt as though she was going to let out a silent scream or worse, a real one. My name is Tristan… I just wanted you to know before we go any further. Io stopped in her tracks and gave out a disarming smile that made Tristan glow.

Up ahead were open doors that lead into darkness and mystery. They looked at each other and instinctively walked towards the inviting doors. They felt as though they were being watched all the time, there was no one around that they knew of, but all the same, the creepy air and sounds were apparent. They padded up to the three doors, each facing one another. They took the middle one and walked on in. Tristan opened his mouth in