The Mark of Satan

By Robert Brews

When two boys decided to visit a long forgotten and desolate area near their village little did they know they were to unleash a horror that had been hidden in the minds, souls and the very fabric of their village.
They were to receive help from an unlikely source...a mysterious stranger and a blind girl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781470971878

Book preview

BOB BREWS

THE MARK OF SATAN

CHAPTER ONE

The village of Dunmartin lay in the rolling foothills of the Perth countryside, had a population of around about four hundred and eighty and although bang up to date with the outside world, the sleepy community was almost caught in a serene time warp of their own volition.

Despite the presence of the occasional satellite dish and the telephone booths with the convenience of the swipe card, the fabric of the village had hardly changed since the early 1800’s.

Shops and businesses had been passed down through the generations and still bore the same family names as when they were first established. The only difference was the more modern sound of electronic tills, almost ringing the subtle changes with each transaction.

The people went about their daily business within the village, with a few actually commuting into the bigger towns and cities. Like any other small township, community spirit was high and every one knew every one else and their dog, though privacy was always, strongly and religiously respected.

The history of the village was somewhat obscure before the 1800’s, with almost all the records of that time lost, destroyed or deliberately hidden from questioning eyes.

Historians had tried to delve into the mysterious history but always came up against a brick wall of ignorance and an inexplicable reluctance to divulge any little known information at all for fear of arousing long lost curses or damnation's.

As far as was known, and as far as could be pieced together and surmised, the village of Dunmartin of the 1800’s had had its share of torment and turmoil, as had many towns and villages of that time. Although, deep within every grain of earth, root of tree and particle of air, the terrible history of the village lay inscribed forever, never to be told to any one.

Indeed, Witchcraft and Devil worship were blamed for all sorts of ills that befell such communities and the suspects and so called perpetrators of demonic deeds were put to the ultimate test of life or death to prove their innocence.

As far as the people of Dunmartin were concerned, they knew, deep within themselves, that there was a strange and malevolent past to their village.

To a man, though, it was an unspoken rule, subconsciously passed down through the ages, that no-one, no man, woman or child, spoke of, or even thought of, what no-one knew or wanted to know about the past two hundred years.

Billy Cooper was bored. Like any typical seventeen years old, He got restless doing nothing at the weekends, and to this end He picked up the phone.

Billy tapped in the all to familiar number of His best pal Sam, knowing that if anyone would be at home, it would be Him. As the dialling tone purred out its beckoning call to Sam's' house two streets away, Billy let His mind wander, not toward anything in particular, but still

He felt strangely drawn to a time and place long since forgotten, maybe not even known to someone of even Billy's' teenage years.

Hello the sound of Sam’s voice didn’t register at first. Hello, who’s’ that?

This time Billy was awoken from His daydream, a little startled at first, He soon regained His composure when He finally realised it was Sam on the other end of the phone.

Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to .... Oh, no matter spluttered Billy, Listen, pal, how do you fancy getting the rest of the gang together and doing something different this afternoon?

Sam Paterson sighed with apprehension. He and Billy had been pals since primary school and when Billy had wanted to do something different, He always expected trouble.

This time it was Sam’s turn to daydream as He tried to recall all the scrapes that He had been in, mainly due to Billy’s wayward sense of adventure.

Well, how about it, Sammy?

Sam knew to refuse would only leave Himself open to all sorts of jibes and ridicule, not that Billy was a bully or anything like that, just that, well, Sam knew Billy.

Oh, okay replied Sam, trying to hide his reluctance behind a poor show of enthusiasm, Let’s get the others.

Despite their concern about Billy’s sense of adventure, the gang rallied round to the knock on doors and phone calls that was the usual way to gather The Clan, as they called themselves, and indeed were known to all the villagers. Not in any sinister way, in fact the people of Dunmartin were proud of their Clan, having seen the boys grow from toddlers to being on the verge of manhood and a steady and up and coming future for the community.

They met at the usual place in the park and as usual Billy was the last to arrive.

Theatrical to the last, He liked to keep every one in suspense, and when He did turn up, He got the usual barrage of abuse.

Slept in again? Mocked Tam Graham, the younger of The Clan, and the one who felt, and knew, He could say anything to anyone and get away with it. As the boys all agreed, how could anyone so innocent like do any bad?

Be late for His own funeral, would our Billy, cried Peter Bomber Brown, ages with Billy, and the eccentric of the group, and the one more likely to agree to and carry out any of Billy’s outrageous escapades.

Oh, quiet you lot, I’m here now and that’s what matters, He pushed His way onto the park bench that always served as their meeting place, which they defended religiously against any and all intruders, especially the old codgers who went for a smoke and a blether and usually left their fag ends and sweet papers littering the bench.

I’ve got an idea to liven up our afternoon....

We’re going to the football, enthused Tam, flashing His perpetual St Johnstone scarf in their faces

Nae chance wee man scolded Bomber Ah’m no gaun tae see that bunch o haddies ...

Quiet, you lot an’ listen, demanded Billy, standing up for more effect and attention, How about going up to The Dale, Just for a while?

An uneasy silence descended on the boys. No-one said a word for a few moments, each deep in their own private thoughts, their own secret fears, all brought about by Billy’s mention of The Dale.

The Dale, an area to the west of the town that was steeped in folklore, an area that few local people ever ventured into and an area that housed the Dale Crypt. So foreboding and desolate was the Dale that those who did go there almost found themselves in another time and place, no bird song and indeed hardly any life at all, as the farmers in the area were always unable to cultivate the ground for almost a half mile radius of the Crypt.

The Dale Crypt itself was rumoured to be the final resting place of the Devil as He made His way back to Hades after His attempt to corrupt the people of the Highlands many centuries ago. He had been driven southwards by the combined forces of the churches and had fallen at the place now known as The Dale. A corruption of the very name that had tormented the area, words corrupted to try and purge the Highlands of the memories.

Now these ancient memories were threatening to come back to haunt the Highlands.

Who’s for it then, guys? Boomed Billy, shocking the boys from their thoughts, Who wants to wake the De’il?, He laughed out loudly at what He thought was a fair attempt at humour, but stopped when He saw the reluctant, frightened look on His pal's faces.

Ah’m game replied Bomber, somewhat subdued How about it, Tam, Sam?

The other two were not to be convinced

No chance came back Sam No’ if you paid me a million pounds

Billy and Bomber had to except the opinions of their pals, it was part of their friendship that no-one had to do what they didn’t want to, even though a severe, albeit friendly slagging often entailed. After saying farewell to each other the two pairs of boys went their separate ways.

Sam and Tam said little to each other on their short journey home, save calling their pals foolish and hoping they would be okay.

Billy and Bomber on the other hand had laughed and joked on their hour long trek to the area of the Crypt in a vain attempt to keep their spirits up. Even they knew the foolishness of their actions, a fact brought home to them as they approached the area.

They suddenly felt the whole atmosphere of the place change. It was something that neither lad could define but they became increasingly aware of a heavy sense of foreboding.

You sure this is a good idea, Bill?, Stammered Bomber, trying unsuccessfully to act cool, Ah’m getting a bad feeling about this.

It’ll be okay, mate said Billy, trying even harder to sound and look unconcerned We’re here now, let’s keep going

They finally came to the ruins of The Crypt. A derelict tower dating back goodness knows how long, that was probably used as a grand dwelling place, but since had been given the dubious honour as the Devils last resting place in Scotland.

Clambering through the entrance, they scrambled over fallen masonry to reach the centre of the base of the tower. Looking up, they saw that whatever flooring or roofing had been there had long since rotted away and the tower now commanded a view to the heavens.

Seeing the early evening sky from the centre of the inside of the ancient tower filled them with confidence and temporarily dispelled any feelings of apprehension that they had. The pair hardly spoke as they explored the floor of the tower, climbing, crawling and stumbling over the large blocks of fallen stone work that once had adorned the upper levels.

It was at this point that the boys discovered that with all rumours there is no smoke without fire.

Back at the village, the other two lads had said their farewells and had gone to their respective homes, each alone with their own thoughts and fears, for themselves and their mates, hardly knowing or even daring to think why they should be feeling the way they did.

Over here, Billy yelled Bomber excitedly, See what I’ve found

Billy hurried across to the centre of the base of the tower to where Bomber was kneeling, scraping and peering at something on the ground.

What the hell is that? Billy could not believe His eyes as He finally saw what Bomber was so excited about.

What the hell IS that?

I, I don't know, it just appeared out of nowhere, I think

What do you mean you think, it was either there or not there, or what?

The boys were getting a little hysterical now and Billy was more than a little scared as the feelings if a little earlier came flooding back, making Him incoherent when He tried to speak again.

What, where, how did you find that?

Bomber tried to compose Himself the best He could.

"I was sifting through some of the rubble here and there was this puff of what I thought was dust then a smell like, like sulphur I think, then