Banshee Angel Of Judgement (7 page)

“
Do you know who I am?” He’d shouted
self-righteously, as he stopped his progress on
glimpsing her ghostly form flitting between the trees. She could
not hold back her mirth, cackling loud sending him into greater
flight, stumbling on the rough potholed surface in the
darkness.

He stopped as
he came to the front of her house, labouring for breath, holding
his knees for support
. It was
then she had struck. His mind unable to take in the horror of her
screaming rage filled apparition as she threw herself towards him
from out of the dark.

He turned to
run, staggered, falling hard. He rolled over onto his back as she
kneeled beside. He lay there transfixed by her cold white eyed,
merciless gaze. His terror smelt so delicious to her as she cocked
her head to one side childlike, before she gave her scream that
sent ice through his blood and a cold sweat running from every pore
on his rotund frame, eyes wide from the horror he heard in that
scream, like the scream of the damned a thousand fold. At that she
had taken his soul, reaching into his torso, tearing it from him;
freezing the horror he felt on to his flabby disgusting features,
as she took her first captive.

It had seemed
too quick though, which had just fed her rage all the more. This
had sent her screaming through the woods till dawn and the light of
a new day had forced her to retreat to her dungeon with her prize
still held firmly in her claw like hands.

She had wanted
more, so much more. Her dissatisfaction all the greater with the
fatigue she felt from the night of uncontrolled rage. It was for
this reason she had drained his soul so much. She had learned from
that night not to let the anger get away from her. To control it;
learning to use it to exact her revenge on those that had accused
her falsely. Each one being added in turn to her collection, to
feed and strengthening her as she continued to seek them out, in
the darkness of the winter nights.

Into her
mother
’s jar, her anchor she
placed each, trapping them. Damning them to never find the rest
they had denied her; feeding from them as she tormented them with
visions of hellish nightmares for their wrong doings. With each one
she grew more powerfully malevolent as she drew on the fear and
anguish they experienced in their new world inside the jar of
putrefying pickled eels sealed in by her mark carved into the cork
lid, the symbol of the banshee that held an echo of her scream to
add torment to those trapped within.

C
hapter 9

“
Hurry and drink up,” Micky swallowed the last of his
tea
, glancing at his watch
again as he stood at the kitchen sink. He quickly rinsed out his
cup, leaving it on the draining broad to put it away after
lunch.

“
What’s the time?” Andy asked as he to drank up
his brew then copied Micky in
cleaning his container.

“
Just going on to ten,” Micky said picking up his
coat
from where he had left it
hanging on a chair before heading into the locker room to put it
away in his assigned receptacle. Andy followed him with his own
jacket, to put it away. They collected the tins of paint on their
way out of the cabin from where they had left them, by the doorway
into the building.

“
Where do we get brushes by the way?” Andy
lo
oked to Micky as they headed
towards the gate.

“
Oh shit
almost forgot,” Micky began, “here you take the paint I’ll go get
the brushes I’ll catch you up.” At that he handed his pot and paint
brush to the taller man, turned to trot off back into the
cabin.

He head for
the cupboard at the back of the staff building, next to the
toilets. Inside he found what he needed, two brushes, as well as a
roll of black bags and a shovel for the work they had now to do. He
put the plastic bin liners into his pocket then leaned the other
items over his shoulder to more easily carry.

He walked
speedily to catch up with Andy, finally joining him just outside
the walled garden that had been renamed The Fort of Doom by the
park management. All the rides inside had similar fearful
names
, though they were not as
terrifying as they might have sounded.

Andy
continued with the paint on seeing
Micky was loaded down. “Lucky you reminded me,” Micky gave a big
sigh as he said this.

“
It would just
have meant that we’d have just had to go back and get them wouldn’t
it?”

“
Yeah, but
this way we look good,” Micky smiled.

“
But would
they not realize we were having a break for tea?” Andy knew they
were only allowed a lunch break so didn’t want to get into trouble
for taking an unofficial break.

“
Yeah, but
they don’t mind as long as you don’t take the piss with it,” Micky
happily replied. “You’re a bit of a worrier aren’t you?”

“
That’s what
my friends keep telling me,” Andy pursed his bottom lip out
thoughtfully.

“
Well they’re right,” Micky nudge
d his companion in the side with his elbow which
brought a smile to Andy’s face.

They turned
into what had once been the big house’s stables but now served as a
restaurant and offices for the theme park, though there were other
places to eat throughout the sprawling theme park such as the House
of Glass in the walled garden, which was a large old Victorian
brick based wooden framed green house.

They entered
through the middle doorway, took the stairs on the right ascending
to the top floor. They head right
, down the corridor past the male toilets to the door at
the end of the passageway, entering without knocking.

Inside the office behind a
large desk sat the secretary who looked up as they entered. “Just
dropping the paint off as instructed,” Micky said smiling widely at
the little woman with glasses.

“
Oh, okay if
you just leave them over there,” she pointed to below the
window.

Andy
dumped the paint with brushes on top
before they exited the office and headed back down the stairs.
Outside into the sunny courtyard, chairs and tables sat at one end
ready for customer to enjoy the fine cuisine with a refreshing
drink, whilst their offspring played in the sandpit nearby under
their watchful gaze or played on the activity swings.

They turn
right out of
this oasis toward
the old stone bridge that led to the entrance to the park. Over the
bridge on a large lawn a circus tent stood with its accompanying
caravans hidden neatly to the rear of it beyond this the large
manor house, that acted as a hotel as well as museum, stood almost
hidden in the forest that stretched through and around the whole
park. They passed this, waving to one of the travelling
entertainers as they did, who nodded in turn.

The day had
warmed up nicely
, though the
slight breeze still had a chill to it making it much colder in the
shadows cast by the trees, as they passed the side road that took
guests up to the front of the big house.

“
We’ll start
brushing the other side of the pay booths,” Micky
stated.

“
You mean
where the folk queue up?” Andy queried.

“
Yeah, that
way it looks tidier as they punters come in, mind you it won’t take
long for them to mess it up again,” Micky sounded weary at the
thought.

“
How don’t
they use the bins?” Andy motioned at the waste receptacles at both
sides of the entrance.

“
Some do but just as many don’t give a
dam
n,” he shook his head as he
answered putting the objects he’d been carrying down but still
using his body to support the utensils. “Anyway here’s some bags
for the rubbish, you start over there,” he handed Andy some bags
from the roll then took one off for himself pushing the rest into
his belt. As Andy turned to go he nudged him with one of the
brushes, “you forgetting this?”

“
Oh, right,” Andy looked sheepishly at Micky
as he took the
brush.

“
Not get much
work done without it,” Micky smiled.

“
Yeah.”

“
After all
you don’t want me doing it all,” Micky joked.

“
Why not I could supervise make a change from you,” Andy
came back unexpectedly
,
sending Micky into a loud guffaw of laughter.

They passed
through the gap between the pay booths
. Micky left the shovel leaning against one of the wooden
structures. A large car parking area sat on their left whilst in
front the long driveway continued through the wood to the, out of
sight, front gate and the main road to the nearest town of
Galston.

They swept the
dead decaying leaves up with the wind blown rubbish that had
collected over the winter into two large piles
that the men squeezed into one of the bags they
had for the job before they turn to clearing between the
booths.

“
What do we
do with the bags?” Andy asked after they filled another.

“
Well, I
suppose we leave them here for now and get them later before
lunch,” Micky said thinking about how best to deal with the
rubbish, “and then we’ll come back and take them up to the skip
behind the cabin when we go for lunch.”

“
Okay,” Andy
said happily, “when is lunch today by the way?”

“
About the
usual half twelve.”

“
So you’ll not
be driving for a late lunch like yesterday,” Andy referred to the
previous day humorously.

“
Maybe you
should just get some work done first or are you just going to leave
it to me,” Micky smiled broadly.

“
Why not?”
Andy cheekily answered with an equally bright face as they returned
cheerfully to brushing once again.

C
hapter 10

As the sun
began to shine more strongly through the hazy
sky
, she hid in her dark, damp
secret room. She cursed the day for it was her least favourite time
as it trapped her. She loved the night when she could sally forth
from her cell to bring fear to those who were foolish enough to
come to close to her domain; stalking them if they entered the
forest, like a hunter his prey.

Fear had
spread across the Irvine Valley as she sought her revenge against
those who had
told falsehoods
against her. It was something she had not thought of or cared
about, fingers though began to be pointed, after all witches don’t
work alone was the talk. Only one had dared to stand up for her, to
try and save her, her Minister; so they had accused him as before
they had her.

It didn’t take
long for some to start to speak ill of the Reverend Adams. He had
been
good friends with the
witch and her mother before she past away and hadn’t he called her
his child; so the gossips twisted things. So they thought he must
have been in league with the evil that had spread through the glen,
as he couldn’t have been so unaware of what the witch was up to, as
it was his business to protect them from such wrongs. He should
have known.

She knew
though that this was the work of the laird, she also knew that his
time would come, she was sure of that. There was little she could
do to stop
the wrongful words
spreading other than from continuing her task of hunting down those
in the pay of the laird; she knew all to well that they would have
their pound of flesh whether or not she hunted the true evil of the
glen or not.

So it was that
the old clergyman was arrested
, this time the charges were brought by the neighbouring
parish after numerous complaints filtered back to the young
Minister of that congregation. So an ecclesiastical tribunal was
called to look into the most serious of allegations.

The old Adams
was not imprisoned though he was confined to his home, not allowed
to attend church or hold service. The old man felt lost with
nothing to tend to. He’d been a Minister for so long that life
seemed so empty without
the
church business to fill his time.

His health
had
been bad but now grew
worse with the lack of purpose to keep him going. Winter drained
him all the more as drafts rattled around his home next to the
church. With them came the chills to weaken him further, as did the
dire news of more deaths that couldn’t be explained. His house
keeper found him as December’s cold hand came across the land, his
face showing he had drifted off in his sleep, peacefully. Few were
sad to see his passing, as the many hoped that this would bring an
end to the dreadful troubles.

She readied
herself for another foray
in
the night; it mattered not if she found one of those she hunted.
For this night she planned to find out where the inquisitor had set
up lodging on his return to the area. She had no other plans for
this despised figure as yet but she knew of his return for the last
victim to be drawn into the torment she made for them.