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The small boat smoothly rode the gentle tide as its engine propelled it forward across the lake’s murky waters. Rain started to spit down, ripples were scattered across the water’s surface, and it was like someone had thrown a handful of pebbles all around the boat which cast their impact on the lake’s face. A wind picked up, whistling over the water’s surface as it did so, and took spray onto the occupants of the boat.
‘Best get to the island a little quicker than we had wanted: don’t really want to be caught out in this miserable weather however nice the landscape is from this point!’ said Nick, competing with the wind’s voice.
Alan, who had his hood pulled up nodded in agreement. He powered up the engine further with a firm tug on the cord. The boat jolted and then bobbed along at a higher speed.
Soon the island was visible, the locals who rented the boat to Alan had claimed it lay directly in the centre of the lake and it shouldn’t be overlooked by tourists as it often was. As the boat got closer more and more of the island was revealed. A lot of foliage covered it; twisted trees could be seen rocking back and forth in the gusts of wind. A sheer vertical rock face cut into the island’s side, which glistened with the water’s spray, could be seen from the boat. Looking over all of this were the remains of a round tower, which the rain was lashing. Half of the tower’s side had crumbled leaving bricks poking and pointing out in random directions. One brick on the end was loose and pivoted on the spot in the wind, like a malfunctioning weather vane. The rest of the island was concealed by the thick vegetation, which wouldn’t give any more secrets away to prying eyes.
Alan gradually reduced the power of the boat as it approached the edge of the island, which was trimmed by a small slither of shingle beach. The engine was switched off and lifted from the water; all that could be heard was the pelting rain and gentle swooshing as the boat silently glided through the shallows. Then there was a crunching noise as the boat’s bottom pushed against the rough shingle. Nick and Alan jumped from the boat, their boots slipping on the unstable surface, and heaved the boat further onto the island and secured its position by tying it to a tree. It gave a creak as if to sigh with exhaustion from the battering it was taking from the wind.
‘Right, let’s have a look around, and then we can go back and get a warm cuppa!’ said Nick enthusiastically.
‘Sounds good to me, mate.’
‘Follow me,’ said Nick as he spied a narrow path that led into the heart of the island.
He pushed through some overgrown ferns that tickled his skin and made his hair stand on end. His boots squelched underneath every footstep he took, the ground was littered with wet leaves which resounded of the rain drops falling upon them. The path weaved in between rocks covered in moss and tree stumps that were sprouting bracket fungi. The trail then led to a small incline, which could be climbed by using the natural rock staircase. Nick put a foot forward and suddenly retracted it.
‘Almost trod on you there, little fellow.’ said Nick as he narrowly avoided treading on a tiny frog that was very shiny with the damp environment it inhabited. He scooped it up, which proved more difficult than anticipated because the tiny creature was so slippery. He brushed it to the side of the path; it looked back at him with black beady eyes, blinked once and then hopped under the ferns.
Both men continued on the path, which was gradually fading as it reached its destination. The rain had stopped now and the island was slowly becoming alive with the sound of its residents. Bird calls echoed around them. Alan had taken the lead: he wanted to press on and get back to the warm drink Nick had suggested.
Soon they were in the centre of the island, which the locals had promised to be an amazing sight. They stood in the great shadow of the tower that loomed over them. Connected to its base were crumbling walls and it was evident many birds were using this as their roosting place as the brickwork was stained and nests appeared to be crammed into every possible nook and cranny. There was a gate in the wall, which was being strangled by thick ivy. Alan snapped a few of the ivy’s arms and pushed against the gate; it gave a deep groan and water dropped down onto him that was previously resting on the ivy’s pointed leaves that were the shape of arrow heads.
Inside the small, square fortress was a cemetery. Many graves were perfectly laid out in three rows; there were eight graves in each row. A central path went through the cemetery and gave access to each resting place. A rook was preening itself on a tall cross and it didn’t look fazed with the human presence. It crowed once and then continued with its self maintenance. Each grave was marked by a unique stone, some crosses and others more specifically designed for the person they were a memorial to. One had a stone ballerina in the middle of a leap on top of it; another had a top hat on it, which Nick thought was unusual, another had a marble train carriage on it and another had an old fashioned racing car engraved into the stone marker.
‘You could play monopoly with all these!’ laughed Alan.
‘Have some respect,’ said Nick, but even he couldn’t help but smile, ‘It’s so odd, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Same, but I don’t think it’s as amazing as them lot back on mainland said.’
‘Still, a nice trip.’
‘Yeah, if you like getting soaked!’ Alan jested, ‘Let’s be getting back then.’ Alan started heading for the gate.
‘Just a second or two more,’ Nick replied as he scanned the grave yard one more time. The two men then left the way they had entered. ‘Seems odd…’ Nick trailed off.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s just usually graveyards are on the outside of churches, not within their walls.’
‘Yeah, very odd,’ Alan said rolling his eyes. He led Nick out of the cemetery, leaving the gate wide open.
The men were back at the boat after they had followed the winding path down to the shore line again. The tide had come further up the shingle beach and the boat was swaying slightly in the shallow water. Nick approached the tree that had been used to secure the boat to the island and slowly untied the soggy rope. Alan started pushing the boat back into the water, and then they both jumped in after turning the boat around. Alan tugged on the cord to start the engine. Nothing. He tugged it again. Still nothing. He gave another firm tug with a frustrated expression on his face. The engine muttered; then it started smoking and hissed back at Alan’s angry face.
‘Problem?’ enquired Nick.
‘You think? It’s totally fried,’ he cursed, ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘That’s why my friend, you come prepared.’ Nick reached into the rucksack he left on the boat and pulled out a radio. He switched it on, a red light clicked on indicating a full battery. He then began to turn one of the knobs to tune it in to find the emergency channel that the boat’s owner back on land had given to them if any such incident occurred. ‘Right, here we go. Hello, hello? Anyone there? We need a little help please, we’re stranded on the central island.’ The radio cackled, but there was no other reply. ‘Hello? Help, anyone!’ The radio just produced white noise. ‘Damn it!’ He fiddled with the tuner again and repeated the request, still no one replied.
‘Perfect. Great. Fantastic!’ said Alan.
‘Relax, as soon as they realise one of their boats hasn’t returned they’ll be onto us in a flash. We’ve just got to sit it out. I’ve got a few snacks here.’ He began to rustle through the rucksack.
The sky became darker as clouds began to loom above them. There was a crack of thunder, with a flash of lightening to accompany the tremendous noise. The rain started to come down again. Nick and Alan pulled up their hoods and couldn’t help but laugh about the situation they found themselves in.
They decided it was best to head for cover within the island. After securing the boat again and picking up the rucksack they followed the thin path back into dripping foliage. They were soon on the outskirts of the small fortress. There was a high pitched scream. Both men stopped in their tracks, their boots sinking slightly in the soaking ground. They looked at each other. There was another squeal, similar to the first. Then another. Alan ran towards where he heard the noise. Then he saw what was producing it. He laughed at his and Nick’s misplaced fear.
‘It’s just the gate swinging in the wind, we forgot to close it!’ he chuckled back to Nick. He was relieved and laughed too. ‘Right let’s have a seat.’ Alan said as he kicked a few large rocks to see if they were firm and sturdy enough to play the role of a chair. Nick wandered over and perched next to him. He got a few biscuits out and the two enjoyed the tiny snack. After they had finished they pulled their hoods over their eyes and attempted to catch some sleep.
Nick was soon asleep but Alan couldn’t get comfortable and found himself drifting off and then either being woken by his head dropping down or by a bird call. He began to look around his surroundings; he was directly facing the cemetery and sighed.
Suddenly in front of him bright emerald lights shone out of the fortress’ walls, the lights then changed to golden yellow and then to crimson red. There was a rumbling that felt like it shook the entire island to the core. Nick woke up with a start.
‘What was that?’
‘No idea! There were lights too!’
‘Must be a mini-earthquake. Let’s get back to the shore; it’s going to be safer.’
Alan agreed despite the pouring rain.
The two men dashed back to the boat, Alan leading. There were more rumbles, which seemed to originate from the fortress. Nick slipped on leaves under his feet, Alan didn’t notice and continued running back to the boat despite Nick yelling.
‘Need a hand, sir?’
Nick gasped and couldn’t say a word.
‘Come along sir, you’ll miss the train! Is this your luggage?’ the figure said pointing at the rucksack, ‘I must say for the journey you’re taking it isn’t much, sir!’
The person standing in front of Nick was dressed in a porter’s uniform that was authentic in every detail, right down to the cap. But the uniform had no colour, it was just grey, it looked like the rain had bleached it.
‘Wh-wh-what’s going on?’ Nick said confused.
‘The train, sir! Quick she’s coming!’ There was a sound of a whistle blowing and the screech of train brakes and the figure glided away.
‘Wait! Come back!’ yelled Nick after it.
Meanwhile, Alan was quite a bit ahead and had lost the path; the water seemed to have swollen it whole. He was now attempting to head back to the fortress where he hoped he would find Nick.
‘Good day.’
‘What?’
‘I say good day, old chap.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am Mister…’
Alan cut him off, ‘How did you get here?’
‘Mister Tigworth. I should ask you the same question after all it is you who is on my estate!’ Tigworth chuckled to himself. He wore a grey coat with grey trousers and had a moustache that twirled around his mouth. Perched on top of his head was a top hat. Alan noticed it wasn’t only his costume that was grey, his face was pale too.
‘Estate? I…’
‘Yes, yes, would you like to come in for some tea?’
‘What, I don’t understand.’
‘Come on.’ Suddenly a bell rang, ‘Well that’s my call for tea. I must be off, see you again maybe?’ With that the ghostly figure was gone. Alan tried to pursue him but he disappeared amongst the foliage.
Nick was now running as fast as he could towards where he thought the boat was. There was a rustle amongst some thick ferns to his left. He froze to the spot. The rustling got closer; whatever was making the noise was struggling through the broad leaves and tangled roots of the trees nearby. A figure appeared before him.
‘Alan! I’m glad to see you!’ said Nick relieved.
‘Likewise, likewise. I think we should get out of here.’
The pair soon relocated the trail and made sure they were together at all times. On the way back they exchanged their stories. Nick offered an explanation of exhaustion and dehydration but Alan wasn’t convinced. Eventually they managed to navigate their way back to the beached boat. They could hear two people talking ahead. The voices seemed to be coming from the boat itself.
Nick called out, ‘Hey, who’s there?’
‘Who’s that?’ said one voice, distinctly female.
A male voice replied, ‘‘ow would I know?’
‘Go and see, go on.’
The figure of the first voice approached Nick. ‘Who are you, what are you doing out ‘ere?’
‘That’s our boat!’ Nick said with a mixture of confusion and frustration.
‘Good one, mate. That’s our boat. ‘ired it out for the evenin’, ‘aven’t we?’
Now the second voice joined them, she was quite a thin woman who held a parasol in her hand; she was wearing a dark grey dress that Nick thought was quite old fashioned. ‘I suppose you two gents know who I am?’
Nick and Alan exchanged blank looks.
‘Silly dears, haven’t you seen me at the theatre?’
‘I’m sorry we don’t know who you are, or you.’ said Alan looking at the woman and then at her partner, they were holding hands now.
‘Never mind, you must know my hubby to be though!’ she said this with great pride.
Again both men looked blank.
She sighed in frustration, ‘Do you gents not watch the racing?’ she smiled with pride again. ‘Anyway, we’re here to celebrate in peace: it’s our last night before we’re wed! So if you don’t mind gents.’ She hinted with her hands that she wanted them to leave. She and her fiancé went back to the boat, which was concealed by the night’s darkness. Only their outline could be seen with the moon’s light.
Nick turned to Alan and said in a hushed tone, ‘Now what?’
‘I don’t know: this is definitely where we left our boat.’
Nick then turned back to examine the scene, ‘Wait. Where have they gone?’
Both men looked at the boat but Nick was right, the happy couple had disappeared. They approached the boat warily. It was completely empty; it was still tied to the tree and rocked gently back and forth with the current.
There was a sudden humming. A golden light pierced through the thin mist that had formed over the lake’s waters. It moved from side to side as if it was seeking prey. The drone got louder as the light got brighter.
‘It’s the light again!’ Alan said.
Nick urged him to be quiet as he tried to focus his ears onto the sound, ‘Do you hear that?’
Alan looked blank.
‘Voices!’
‘Not again.’ Alan said as he covered his ears.
Nick pulled Alan’s hands from his ears, ‘No, listen!’
Alan listened, at first he couldn’t hear anything but the humming and then he heard the voices too.
‘Ahoy there,’ said one voice as the golden light picked out Alan and Nick. ‘Need some help?’ the voice seemed to tease.
‘We’ve found them,’ said one voice, a radio cackled back in reply.
‘Sorry we couldn’t get here quicker, we tried to ask for your exact location but it sounded like your radio was playing up.’
Alan still had fear in his eyes; he couldn’t believe this was his ticket to freedom.
‘Come aboard; let’s get you back to safety.’ The voice seemed to hiss slightly.
Nick started to approach the boat the two men were in. Their faces were concealed by the golden light that blinded both Nick and Alan. The two men leant over the side of the boat and pulled Nick up, ‘Come on, Alan.’
‘Wait, Nick, don’t!’ he sensed something was wrong.
One of the men on the boat called for Alan again, but he had started to run back into the island’s small forest. The golden ray of the light followed him amongst the trees until the foliage blocked the boat’s eye.
‘Time to go,’ one of the men said conclusively on the boat.
‘What? No! Wait, we have to get him back!’ Nick yelled.
‘Time to go,’ repeated the second man.
‘No, I won’t let you leave him here!’ Nick tried to scramble over the side of the boat but the men overpowered him and held him in the bottom of boat. Nick could hear the humming noise again; he knew they were moving away from the island at a high speed.
Back on the island Alan had pushed his way through the thick branches and leaves that attempted to block his way. He ran to the centre of the island, he saw the outline of the tower ahead of him, it spurred him on. He was soon at the gate, he pushed against, and it whined on its rusted hinges as it gave him access to the graveyard. His eyes scanned the cemetery. He stopped in his tracks as he saw one grave. Alan had noticed the small grey cross with moss on it before as it was the only one its row to not have any sort of engraving or mark upon it. But now it had an engraving of a name and on top of the grave stone was a small rock boat. Alan fell to his knees.
‘Best get to the island a little quicker than we had wanted: don’t really want to be caught out in this miserable weather however nice the landscape is from this point!’ said Nick, competing with the wind’s voice.
Alan, who had his hood pulled up nodded in agreement. He powered up the engine further with a firm tug on the cord. The boat jolted and then bobbed along at a higher speed.
Soon the island was visible, the locals who rented the boat to Alan had claimed it lay directly in the centre of the lake and it shouldn’t be overlooked by tourists as it often was. As the boat got closer more and more of the island was revealed. A lot of foliage covered it; twisted trees could be seen rocking back and forth in the gusts of wind. A sheer vertical rock face cut into the island’s side, which glistened with the water’s spray, could be seen from the boat. Looking over all of this were the remains of a round tower, which the rain was lashing. Half of the tower’s side had crumbled leaving bricks poking and pointing out in random directions. One brick on the end was loose and pivoted on the spot in the wind, like a malfunctioning weather vane. The rest of the island was concealed by the thick vegetation, which wouldn’t give any more secrets away to prying eyes.
Alan gradually reduced the power of the boat as it approached the edge of the island, which was trimmed by a small slither of shingle beach. The engine was switched off and lifted from the water; all that could be heard was the pelting rain and gentle swooshing as the boat silently glided through the shallows. Then there was a crunching noise as the boat’s bottom pushed against the rough shingle. Nick and Alan jumped from the boat, their boots slipping on the unstable surface, and heaved the boat further onto the island and secured its position by tying it to a tree. It gave a creak as if to sigh with exhaustion from the battering it was taking from the wind.
‘Right, let’s have a look around, and then we can go back and get a warm cuppa!’ said Nick enthusiastically.
‘Sounds good to me, mate.’
‘Follow me,’ said Nick as he spied a narrow path that led into the heart of the island.
He pushed through some overgrown ferns that tickled his skin and made his hair stand on end. His boots squelched underneath every footstep he took, the ground was littered with wet leaves which resounded of the rain drops falling upon them. The path weaved in between rocks covered in moss and tree stumps that were sprouting bracket fungi. The trail then led to a small incline, which could be climbed by using the natural rock staircase. Nick put a foot forward and suddenly retracted it.
‘Almost trod on you there, little fellow.’ said Nick as he narrowly avoided treading on a tiny frog that was very shiny with the damp environment it inhabited. He scooped it up, which proved more difficult than anticipated because the tiny creature was so slippery. He brushed it to the side of the path; it looked back at him with black beady eyes, blinked once and then hopped under the ferns.
Both men continued on the path, which was gradually fading as it reached its destination. The rain had stopped now and the island was slowly becoming alive with the sound of its residents. Bird calls echoed around them. Alan had taken the lead: he wanted to press on and get back to the warm drink Nick had suggested.
Soon they were in the centre of the island, which the locals had promised to be an amazing sight. They stood in the great shadow of the tower that loomed over them. Connected to its base were crumbling walls and it was evident many birds were using this as their roosting place as the brickwork was stained and nests appeared to be crammed into every possible nook and cranny. There was a gate in the wall, which was being strangled by thick ivy. Alan snapped a few of the ivy’s arms and pushed against the gate; it gave a deep groan and water dropped down onto him that was previously resting on the ivy’s pointed leaves that were the shape of arrow heads.
Inside the small, square fortress was a cemetery. Many graves were perfectly laid out in three rows; there were eight graves in each row. A central path went through the cemetery and gave access to each resting place. A rook was preening itself on a tall cross and it didn’t look fazed with the human presence. It crowed once and then continued with its self maintenance. Each grave was marked by a unique stone, some crosses and others more specifically designed for the person they were a memorial to. One had a stone ballerina in the middle of a leap on top of it; another had a top hat on it, which Nick thought was unusual, another had a marble train carriage on it and another had an old fashioned racing car engraved into the stone marker.
‘You could play monopoly with all these!’ laughed Alan.
‘Have some respect,’ said Nick, but even he couldn’t help but smile, ‘It’s so odd, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Same, but I don’t think it’s as amazing as them lot back on mainland said.’
‘Still, a nice trip.’
‘Yeah, if you like getting soaked!’ Alan jested, ‘Let’s be getting back then.’ Alan started heading for the gate.
‘Just a second or two more,’ Nick replied as he scanned the grave yard one more time. The two men then left the way they had entered. ‘Seems odd…’ Nick trailed off.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s just usually graveyards are on the outside of churches, not within their walls.’
‘Yeah, very odd,’ Alan said rolling his eyes. He led Nick out of the cemetery, leaving the gate wide open.
The men were back at the boat after they had followed the winding path down to the shore line again. The tide had come further up the shingle beach and the boat was swaying slightly in the shallow water. Nick approached the tree that had been used to secure the boat to the island and slowly untied the soggy rope. Alan started pushing the boat back into the water, and then they both jumped in after turning the boat around. Alan tugged on the cord to start the engine. Nothing. He tugged it again. Still nothing. He gave another firm tug with a frustrated expression on his face. The engine muttered; then it started smoking and hissed back at Alan’s angry face.
‘Problem?’ enquired Nick.
‘You think? It’s totally fried,’ he cursed, ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘That’s why my friend, you come prepared.’ Nick reached into the rucksack he left on the boat and pulled out a radio. He switched it on, a red light clicked on indicating a full battery. He then began to turn one of the knobs to tune it in to find the emergency channel that the boat’s owner back on land had given to them if any such incident occurred. ‘Right, here we go. Hello, hello? Anyone there? We need a little help please, we’re stranded on the central island.’ The radio cackled, but there was no other reply. ‘Hello? Help, anyone!’ The radio just produced white noise. ‘Damn it!’ He fiddled with the tuner again and repeated the request, still no one replied.
‘Perfect. Great. Fantastic!’ said Alan.
‘Relax, as soon as they realise one of their boats hasn’t returned they’ll be onto us in a flash. We’ve just got to sit it out. I’ve got a few snacks here.’ He began to rustle through the rucksack.
The sky became darker as clouds began to loom above them. There was a crack of thunder, with a flash of lightening to accompany the tremendous noise. The rain started to come down again. Nick and Alan pulled up their hoods and couldn’t help but laugh about the situation they found themselves in.
They decided it was best to head for cover within the island. After securing the boat again and picking up the rucksack they followed the thin path back into dripping foliage. They were soon on the outskirts of the small fortress. There was a high pitched scream. Both men stopped in their tracks, their boots sinking slightly in the soaking ground. They looked at each other. There was another squeal, similar to the first. Then another. Alan ran towards where he heard the noise. Then he saw what was producing it. He laughed at his and Nick’s misplaced fear.
‘It’s just the gate swinging in the wind, we forgot to close it!’ he chuckled back to Nick. He was relieved and laughed too. ‘Right let’s have a seat.’ Alan said as he kicked a few large rocks to see if they were firm and sturdy enough to play the role of a chair. Nick wandered over and perched next to him. He got a few biscuits out and the two enjoyed the tiny snack. After they had finished they pulled their hoods over their eyes and attempted to catch some sleep.
Nick was soon asleep but Alan couldn’t get comfortable and found himself drifting off and then either being woken by his head dropping down or by a bird call. He began to look around his surroundings; he was directly facing the cemetery and sighed.
Suddenly in front of him bright emerald lights shone out of the fortress’ walls, the lights then changed to golden yellow and then to crimson red. There was a rumbling that felt like it shook the entire island to the core. Nick woke up with a start.
‘What was that?’
‘No idea! There were lights too!’
‘Must be a mini-earthquake. Let’s get back to the shore; it’s going to be safer.’
Alan agreed despite the pouring rain.
The two men dashed back to the boat, Alan leading. There were more rumbles, which seemed to originate from the fortress. Nick slipped on leaves under his feet, Alan didn’t notice and continued running back to the boat despite Nick yelling.
‘Need a hand, sir?’
Nick gasped and couldn’t say a word.
‘Come along sir, you’ll miss the train! Is this your luggage?’ the figure said pointing at the rucksack, ‘I must say for the journey you’re taking it isn’t much, sir!’
The person standing in front of Nick was dressed in a porter’s uniform that was authentic in every detail, right down to the cap. But the uniform had no colour, it was just grey, it looked like the rain had bleached it.
‘Wh-wh-what’s going on?’ Nick said confused.
‘The train, sir! Quick she’s coming!’ There was a sound of a whistle blowing and the screech of train brakes and the figure glided away.
‘Wait! Come back!’ yelled Nick after it.
Meanwhile, Alan was quite a bit ahead and had lost the path; the water seemed to have swollen it whole. He was now attempting to head back to the fortress where he hoped he would find Nick.
‘Good day.’
‘What?’
‘I say good day, old chap.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am Mister…’
Alan cut him off, ‘How did you get here?’
‘Mister Tigworth. I should ask you the same question after all it is you who is on my estate!’ Tigworth chuckled to himself. He wore a grey coat with grey trousers and had a moustache that twirled around his mouth. Perched on top of his head was a top hat. Alan noticed it wasn’t only his costume that was grey, his face was pale too.
‘Estate? I…’
‘Yes, yes, would you like to come in for some tea?’
‘What, I don’t understand.’
‘Come on.’ Suddenly a bell rang, ‘Well that’s my call for tea. I must be off, see you again maybe?’ With that the ghostly figure was gone. Alan tried to pursue him but he disappeared amongst the foliage.
Nick was now running as fast as he could towards where he thought the boat was. There was a rustle amongst some thick ferns to his left. He froze to the spot. The rustling got closer; whatever was making the noise was struggling through the broad leaves and tangled roots of the trees nearby. A figure appeared before him.
‘Alan! I’m glad to see you!’ said Nick relieved.
‘Likewise, likewise. I think we should get out of here.’
The pair soon relocated the trail and made sure they were together at all times. On the way back they exchanged their stories. Nick offered an explanation of exhaustion and dehydration but Alan wasn’t convinced. Eventually they managed to navigate their way back to the beached boat. They could hear two people talking ahead. The voices seemed to be coming from the boat itself.
Nick called out, ‘Hey, who’s there?’
‘Who’s that?’ said one voice, distinctly female.
A male voice replied, ‘‘ow would I know?’
‘Go and see, go on.’
The figure of the first voice approached Nick. ‘Who are you, what are you doing out ‘ere?’
‘That’s our boat!’ Nick said with a mixture of confusion and frustration.
‘Good one, mate. That’s our boat. ‘ired it out for the evenin’, ‘aven’t we?’
Now the second voice joined them, she was quite a thin woman who held a parasol in her hand; she was wearing a dark grey dress that Nick thought was quite old fashioned. ‘I suppose you two gents know who I am?’
Nick and Alan exchanged blank looks.
‘Silly dears, haven’t you seen me at the theatre?’
‘I’m sorry we don’t know who you are, or you.’ said Alan looking at the woman and then at her partner, they were holding hands now.
‘Never mind, you must know my hubby to be though!’ she said this with great pride.
Again both men looked blank.
She sighed in frustration, ‘Do you gents not watch the racing?’ she smiled with pride again. ‘Anyway, we’re here to celebrate in peace: it’s our last night before we’re wed! So if you don’t mind gents.’ She hinted with her hands that she wanted them to leave. She and her fiancé went back to the boat, which was concealed by the night’s darkness. Only their outline could be seen with the moon’s light.
Nick turned to Alan and said in a hushed tone, ‘Now what?’
‘I don’t know: this is definitely where we left our boat.’
Nick then turned back to examine the scene, ‘Wait. Where have they gone?’
Both men looked at the boat but Nick was right, the happy couple had disappeared. They approached the boat warily. It was completely empty; it was still tied to the tree and rocked gently back and forth with the current.
There was a sudden humming. A golden light pierced through the thin mist that had formed over the lake’s waters. It moved from side to side as if it was seeking prey. The drone got louder as the light got brighter.
‘It’s the light again!’ Alan said.
Nick urged him to be quiet as he tried to focus his ears onto the sound, ‘Do you hear that?’
Alan looked blank.
‘Voices!’
‘Not again.’ Alan said as he covered his ears.
Nick pulled Alan’s hands from his ears, ‘No, listen!’
Alan listened, at first he couldn’t hear anything but the humming and then he heard the voices too.
‘Ahoy there,’ said one voice as the golden light picked out Alan and Nick. ‘Need some help?’ the voice seemed to tease.
‘We’ve found them,’ said one voice, a radio cackled back in reply.
‘Sorry we couldn’t get here quicker, we tried to ask for your exact location but it sounded like your radio was playing up.’
Alan still had fear in his eyes; he couldn’t believe this was his ticket to freedom.
‘Come aboard; let’s get you back to safety.’ The voice seemed to hiss slightly.
Nick started to approach the boat the two men were in. Their faces were concealed by the golden light that blinded both Nick and Alan. The two men leant over the side of the boat and pulled Nick up, ‘Come on, Alan.’
‘Wait, Nick, don’t!’ he sensed something was wrong.
One of the men on the boat called for Alan again, but he had started to run back into the island’s small forest. The golden ray of the light followed him amongst the trees until the foliage blocked the boat’s eye.
‘Time to go,’ one of the men said conclusively on the boat.
‘What? No! Wait, we have to get him back!’ Nick yelled.
‘Time to go,’ repeated the second man.
‘No, I won’t let you leave him here!’ Nick tried to scramble over the side of the boat but the men overpowered him and held him in the bottom of boat. Nick could hear the humming noise again; he knew they were moving away from the island at a high speed.
Back on the island Alan had pushed his way through the thick branches and leaves that attempted to block his way. He ran to the centre of the island, he saw the outline of the tower ahead of him, it spurred him on. He was soon at the gate, he pushed against, and it whined on its rusted hinges as it gave him access to the graveyard. His eyes scanned the cemetery. He stopped in his tracks as he saw one grave. Alan had noticed the small grey cross with moss on it before as it was the only one its row to not have any sort of engraving or mark upon it. But now it had an engraving of a name and on top of the grave stone was a small rock boat. Alan fell to his knees.
Yes, nicely done - some good ideas, especially the final twist.
They can't have encountered the nicest of townsfolk mind you to be recommended travelling to an island that few return from ;)
They can't have encountered the nicest of townsfolk mind you to be recommended travelling to an island that few return from ;)
Ah I see what you mean, yeah I think naming the island would have been better, I should have introduced the name from the beginning. Hmm... I'll think about a name. Thanks again for the feedback. :)
Silent Thunder wrote:
> pb wrote:
> though 'central island' doesn't sound too scary :)
>
> You mean the bit that Nick says?
Yeah, I know it's not the name, just referred to as the central island, but as it didn't have a name, that stuck in my mind.
> pb wrote:
> though 'central island' doesn't sound too scary :)
>
> You mean the bit that Nick says?
Yeah, I know it's not the name, just referred to as the central island, but as it didn't have a name, that stuck in my mind.
Thanks for feedback by the way, pb and Black Glove.
pb wrote:
> though 'central island' doesn't sound too scary :)
You mean the bit that Nick says?
> though 'central island' doesn't sound too scary :)
You mean the bit that Nick says?
An enjoyable ghost story there, which kept my attention and had a good ending.
pb wrote:
> Nice little story. I like the idea of the graves, though 'central island' doesn't sound too scary :)
> Nice little story. I like the idea of the graves, though 'central island' doesn't sound too scary :)
Nice little story. I like the idea of the graves.
The small boat smoothly rode the gentle tide as its engine propelled it forward across the lake’s murky waters. Rain started to spit down, ripples were scattered across the water’s surface, and it was like someone had thrown a handful of pebbles all around the boat which cast their impact on the lake’s face. A wind picked up, whistling over the water’s surface as it did so, and took spray onto the occupants of the boat.
‘Best get to the island a little quicker than we had wanted: don’t really want to be caught out in this miserable weather however nice the landscape is from this point!’ said Nick, competing with the wind’s voice.
Alan, who had his hood pulled up nodded in agreement. He powered up the engine further with a firm tug on the cord. The boat jolted and then bobbed along at a higher speed.
Soon the island was visible, the locals who rented the boat to Alan had claimed it lay directly in the centre of the lake and it shouldn’t be overlooked by tourists as it often was. As the boat got closer more and more of the island was revealed. A lot of foliage covered it; twisted trees could be seen rocking back and forth in the gusts of wind. A sheer vertical rock face cut into the island’s side, which glistened with the water’s spray, could be seen from the boat. Looking over all of this were the remains of a round tower, which the rain was lashing. Half of the tower’s side had crumbled leaving bricks poking and pointing out in random directions. One brick on the end was loose and pivoted on the spot in the wind, like a malfunctioning weather vane. The rest of the island was concealed by the thick vegetation, which wouldn’t give any more secrets away to prying eyes.
Alan gradually reduced the power of the boat as it approached the edge of the island, which was trimmed by a small slither of shingle beach. The engine was switched off and lifted from the water; all that could be heard was the pelting rain and gentle swooshing as the boat silently glided through the shallows. Then there was a crunching noise as the boat’s bottom pushed against the rough shingle. Nick and Alan jumped from the boat, their boots slipping on the unstable surface, and heaved the boat further onto the island and secured its position by tying it to a tree. It gave a creak as if to sigh with exhaustion from the battering it was taking from the wind.
‘Right, let’s have a look around, and then we can go back and get a warm cuppa!’ said Nick enthusiastically.
‘Sounds good to me, mate.’
‘Follow me,’ said Nick as he spied a narrow path that led into the heart of the island.
He pushed through some overgrown ferns that tickled his skin and made his hair stand on end. His boots squelched underneath every footstep he took, the ground was littered with wet leaves which resounded of the rain drops falling upon them. The path weaved in between rocks covered in moss and tree stumps that were sprouting bracket fungi. The trail then led to a small incline, which could be climbed by using the natural rock staircase. Nick put a foot forward and suddenly retracted it.
‘Almost trod on you there, little fellow.’ said Nick as he narrowly avoided treading on a tiny frog that was very shiny with the damp environment it inhabited. He scooped it up, which proved more difficult than anticipated because the tiny creature was so slippery. He brushed it to the side of the path; it looked back at him with black beady eyes, blinked once and then hopped under the ferns.
Both men continued on the path, which was gradually fading as it reached its destination. The rain had stopped now and the island was slowly becoming alive with the sound of its residents. Bird calls echoed around them. Alan had taken the lead: he wanted to press on and get back to the warm drink Nick had suggested.
Soon they were in the centre of the island, which the locals had promised to be an amazing sight. They stood in the great shadow of the tower that loomed over them. Connected to its base were crumbling walls and it was evident many birds were using this as their roosting place as the brickwork was stained and nests appeared to be crammed into every possible nook and cranny. There was a gate in the wall, which was being strangled by thick ivy. Alan snapped a few of the ivy’s arms and pushed against the gate; it gave a deep groan and water dropped down onto him that was previously resting on the ivy’s pointed leaves that were the shape of arrow heads.
Inside the small, square fortress was a cemetery. Many graves were perfectly laid out in three rows; there were eight graves in each row. A central path went through the cemetery and gave access to each resting place. A rook was preening itself on a tall cross and it didn’t look fazed with the human presence. It crowed once and then continued with its self maintenance. Each grave was marked by a unique stone, some crosses and others more specifically designed for the person they were a memorial to. One had a stone ballerina in the middle of a leap on top of it; another had a top hat on it, which Nick thought was unusual, another had a marble train carriage on it and another had an old fashioned racing car engraved into the stone marker.
‘You could play monopoly with all these!’ laughed Alan.
‘Have some respect,’ said Nick, but even he couldn’t help but smile, ‘It’s so odd, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Same, but I don’t think it’s as amazing as them lot back on mainland said.’
‘Still, a nice trip.’
‘Yeah, if you like getting soaked!’ Alan jested, ‘Let’s be getting back then.’ Alan started heading for the gate.
‘Just a second or two more,’ Nick replied as he scanned the grave yard one more time. The two men then left the way they had entered. ‘Seems odd…’ Nick trailed off.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s just usually graveyards are on the outside of churches, not within their walls.’
‘Yeah, very odd,’ Alan said rolling his eyes. He led Nick out of the cemetery, leaving the gate wide open.
The men were back at the boat after they had followed the winding path down to the shore line again. The tide had come further up the shingle beach and the boat was swaying slightly in the shallow water. Nick approached the tree that had been used to secure the boat to the island and slowly untied the soggy rope. Alan started pushing the boat back into the water, and then they both jumped in after turning the boat around. Alan tugged on the cord to start the engine. Nothing. He tugged it again. Still nothing. He gave another firm tug with a frustrated expression on his face. The engine muttered; then it started smoking and hissed back at Alan’s angry face.
‘Problem?’ enquired Nick.
‘You think? It’s totally fried,’ he cursed, ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘That’s why my friend, you come prepared.’ Nick reached into the rucksack he left on the boat and pulled out a radio. He switched it on, a red light clicked on indicating a full battery. He then began to turn one of the knobs to tune it in to find the emergency channel that the boat’s owner back on land had given to them if any such incident occurred. ‘Right, here we go. Hello, hello? Anyone there? We need a little help please, we’re stranded on the central island.’ The radio cackled, but there was no other reply. ‘Hello? Help, anyone!’ The radio just produced white noise. ‘Damn it!’ He fiddled with the tuner again and repeated the request, still no one replied.
‘Perfect. Great. Fantastic!’ said Alan.
‘Relax, as soon as they realise one of their boats hasn’t returned they’ll be onto us in a flash. We’ve just got to sit it out. I’ve got a few snacks here.’ He began to rustle through the rucksack.
The sky became darker as clouds began to loom above them. There was a crack of thunder, with a flash of lightening to accompany the tremendous noise. The rain started to come down again. Nick and Alan pulled up their hoods and couldn’t help but laugh about the situation they found themselves in.
They decided it was best to head for cover within the island. After securing the boat again and picking up the rucksack they followed the thin path back into dripping foliage. They were soon on the outskirts of the small fortress. There was a high pitched scream. Both men stopped in their tracks, their boots sinking slightly in the soaking ground. They looked at each other. There was another squeal, similar to the first. Then another. Alan ran towards where he heard the noise. Then he saw what was producing it. He laughed at his and Nick’s misplaced fear.
‘It’s just the gate swinging in the wind, we forgot to close it!’ he chuckled back to Nick. He was relieved and laughed too. ‘Right let’s have a seat.’ Alan said as he kicked a few large rocks to see if they were firm and sturdy enough to play the role of a chair. Nick wandered over and perched next to him. He got a few biscuits out and the two enjoyed the tiny snack. After they had finished they pulled their hoods over their eyes and attempted to catch some sleep.
Nick was soon asleep but Alan couldn’t get comfortable and found himself drifting off and then either being woken by his head dropping down or by a bird call. He began to look around his surroundings; he was directly facing the cemetery and sighed.
Suddenly in front of him bright emerald lights shone out of the fortress’ walls, the lights then changed to golden yellow and then to crimson red. There was a rumbling that felt like it shook the entire island to the core. Nick woke up with a start.
‘What was that?’
‘No idea! There were lights too!’
‘Must be a mini-earthquake. Let’s get back to the shore; it’s going to be safer.’
Alan agreed despite the pouring rain.
The two men dashed back to the boat, Alan leading. There were more rumbles, which seemed to originate from the fortress. Nick slipped on leaves under his feet, Alan didn’t notice and continued running back to the boat despite Nick yelling.
‘Need a hand, sir?’
Nick gasped and couldn’t say a word.
‘Come along sir, you’ll miss the train! Is this your luggage?’ the figure said pointing at the rucksack, ‘I must say for the journey you’re taking it isn’t much, sir!’
The person standing in front of Nick was dressed in a porter’s uniform that was authentic in every detail, right down to the cap. But the uniform had no colour, it was just grey, it looked like the rain had bleached it.
‘Wh-wh-what’s going on?’ Nick said confused.
‘The train, sir! Quick she’s coming!’ There was a sound of a whistle blowing and the screech of train brakes and the figure glided away.
‘Wait! Come back!’ yelled Nick after it.
Meanwhile, Alan was quite a bit ahead and had lost the path; the water seemed to have swollen it whole. He was now attempting to head back to the fortress where he hoped he would find Nick.
‘Good day.’
‘What?’
‘I say good day, old chap.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am Mister…’
Alan cut him off, ‘How did you get here?’
‘Mister Tigworth. I should ask you the same question after all it is you who is on my estate!’ Tigworth chuckled to himself. He wore a grey coat with grey trousers and had a moustache that twirled around his mouth. Perched on top of his head was a top hat. Alan noticed it wasn’t only his costume that was grey, his face was pale too.
‘Estate? I…’
‘Yes, yes, would you like to come in for some tea?’
‘What, I don’t understand.’
‘Come on.’ Suddenly a bell rang, ‘Well that’s my call for tea. I must be off, see you again maybe?’ With that the ghostly figure was gone. Alan tried to pursue him but he disappeared amongst the foliage.
Nick was now running as fast as he could towards where he thought the boat was. There was a rustle amongst some thick ferns to his left. He froze to the spot. The rustling got closer; whatever was making the noise was struggling through the broad leaves and tangled roots of the trees nearby. A figure appeared before him.
‘Alan! I’m glad to see you!’ said Nick relieved.
‘Likewise, likewise. I think we should get out of here.’
The pair soon relocated the trail and made sure they were together at all times. On the way back they exchanged their stories. Nick offered an explanation of exhaustion and dehydration but Alan wasn’t convinced. Eventually they managed to navigate their way back to the beached boat. They could hear two people talking ahead. The voices seemed to be coming from the boat itself.
Nick called out, ‘Hey, who’s there?’
‘Who’s that?’ said one voice, distinctly female.
A male voice replied, ‘‘ow would I know?’
‘Go and see, go on.’
The figure of the first voice approached Nick. ‘Who are you, what are you doing out ‘ere?’
‘That’s our boat!’ Nick said with a mixture of confusion and frustration.
‘Good one, mate. That’s our boat. ‘ired it out for the evenin’, ‘aven’t we?’
Now the second voice joined them, she was quite a thin woman who held a parasol in her hand; she was wearing a dark grey dress that Nick thought was quite old fashioned. ‘I suppose you two gents know who I am?’
Nick and Alan exchanged blank looks.
‘Silly dears, haven’t you seen me at the theatre?’
‘I’m sorry we don’t know who you are, or you.’ said Alan looking at the woman and then at her partner, they were holding hands now.
‘Never mind, you must know my hubby to be though!’ she said this with great pride.
Again both men looked blank.
She sighed in frustration, ‘Do you gents not watch the racing?’ she smiled with pride again. ‘Anyway, we’re here to celebrate in peace: it’s our last night before we’re wed! So if you don’t mind gents.’ She hinted with her hands that she wanted them to leave. She and her fiancé went back to the boat, which was concealed by the night’s darkness. Only their outline could be seen with the moon’s light.
Nick turned to Alan and said in a hushed tone, ‘Now what?’
‘I don’t know: this is definitely where we left our boat.’
Nick then turned back to examine the scene, ‘Wait. Where have they gone?’
Both men looked at the boat but Nick was right, the happy couple had disappeared. They approached the boat warily. It was completely empty; it was still tied to the tree and rocked gently back and forth with the current.
There was a sudden humming. A golden light pierced through the thin mist that had formed over the lake’s waters. It moved from side to side as if it was seeking prey. The drone got louder as the light got brighter.
‘It’s the light again!’ Alan said.
Nick urged him to be quiet as he tried to focus his ears onto the sound, ‘Do you hear that?’
Alan looked blank.
‘Voices!’
‘Not again.’ Alan said as he covered his ears.
Nick pulled Alan’s hands from his ears, ‘No, listen!’
Alan listened, at first he couldn’t hear anything but the humming and then he heard the voices too.
‘Ahoy there,’ said one voice as the golden light picked out Alan and Nick. ‘Need some help?’ the voice seemed to tease.
‘We’ve found them,’ said one voice, a radio cackled back in reply.
‘Sorry we couldn’t get here quicker, we tried to ask for your exact location but it sounded like your radio was playing up.’
Alan still had fear in his eyes; he couldn’t believe this was his ticket to freedom.
‘Come aboard; let’s get you back to safety.’ The voice seemed to hiss slightly.
Nick started to approach the boat the two men were in. Their faces were concealed by the golden light that blinded both Nick and Alan. The two men leant over the side of the boat and pulled Nick up, ‘Come on, Alan.’
‘Wait, Nick, don’t!’ he sensed something was wrong.
One of the men on the boat called for Alan again, but he had started to run back into the island’s small forest. The golden ray of the light followed him amongst the trees until the foliage blocked the boat’s eye.
‘Time to go,’ one of the men said conclusively on the boat.
‘What? No! Wait, we have to get him back!’ Nick yelled.
‘Time to go,’ repeated the second man.
‘No, I won’t let you leave him here!’ Nick tried to scramble over the side of the boat but the men overpowered him and held him in the bottom of boat. Nick could hear the humming noise again; he knew they were moving away from the island at a high speed.
Back on the island Alan had pushed his way through the thick branches and leaves that attempted to block his way. He ran to the centre of the island, he saw the outline of the tower ahead of him, it spurred him on. He was soon at the gate, he pushed against, and it whined on its rusted hinges as it gave him access to the graveyard. His eyes scanned the cemetery. He stopped in his tracks as he saw one grave. Alan had noticed the small grey cross with moss on it before as it was the only one its row to not have any sort of engraving or mark upon it. But now it had an engraving of a name and on top of the grave stone was a small rock boat. Alan fell to his knees.
‘Best get to the island a little quicker than we had wanted: don’t really want to be caught out in this miserable weather however nice the landscape is from this point!’ said Nick, competing with the wind’s voice.
Alan, who had his hood pulled up nodded in agreement. He powered up the engine further with a firm tug on the cord. The boat jolted and then bobbed along at a higher speed.
Soon the island was visible, the locals who rented the boat to Alan had claimed it lay directly in the centre of the lake and it shouldn’t be overlooked by tourists as it often was. As the boat got closer more and more of the island was revealed. A lot of foliage covered it; twisted trees could be seen rocking back and forth in the gusts of wind. A sheer vertical rock face cut into the island’s side, which glistened with the water’s spray, could be seen from the boat. Looking over all of this were the remains of a round tower, which the rain was lashing. Half of the tower’s side had crumbled leaving bricks poking and pointing out in random directions. One brick on the end was loose and pivoted on the spot in the wind, like a malfunctioning weather vane. The rest of the island was concealed by the thick vegetation, which wouldn’t give any more secrets away to prying eyes.
Alan gradually reduced the power of the boat as it approached the edge of the island, which was trimmed by a small slither of shingle beach. The engine was switched off and lifted from the water; all that could be heard was the pelting rain and gentle swooshing as the boat silently glided through the shallows. Then there was a crunching noise as the boat’s bottom pushed against the rough shingle. Nick and Alan jumped from the boat, their boots slipping on the unstable surface, and heaved the boat further onto the island and secured its position by tying it to a tree. It gave a creak as if to sigh with exhaustion from the battering it was taking from the wind.
‘Right, let’s have a look around, and then we can go back and get a warm cuppa!’ said Nick enthusiastically.
‘Sounds good to me, mate.’
‘Follow me,’ said Nick as he spied a narrow path that led into the heart of the island.
He pushed through some overgrown ferns that tickled his skin and made his hair stand on end. His boots squelched underneath every footstep he took, the ground was littered with wet leaves which resounded of the rain drops falling upon them. The path weaved in between rocks covered in moss and tree stumps that were sprouting bracket fungi. The trail then led to a small incline, which could be climbed by using the natural rock staircase. Nick put a foot forward and suddenly retracted it.
‘Almost trod on you there, little fellow.’ said Nick as he narrowly avoided treading on a tiny frog that was very shiny with the damp environment it inhabited. He scooped it up, which proved more difficult than anticipated because the tiny creature was so slippery. He brushed it to the side of the path; it looked back at him with black beady eyes, blinked once and then hopped under the ferns.
Both men continued on the path, which was gradually fading as it reached its destination. The rain had stopped now and the island was slowly becoming alive with the sound of its residents. Bird calls echoed around them. Alan had taken the lead: he wanted to press on and get back to the warm drink Nick had suggested.
Soon they were in the centre of the island, which the locals had promised to be an amazing sight. They stood in the great shadow of the tower that loomed over them. Connected to its base were crumbling walls and it was evident many birds were using this as their roosting place as the brickwork was stained and nests appeared to be crammed into every possible nook and cranny. There was a gate in the wall, which was being strangled by thick ivy. Alan snapped a few of the ivy’s arms and pushed against the gate; it gave a deep groan and water dropped down onto him that was previously resting on the ivy’s pointed leaves that were the shape of arrow heads.
Inside the small, square fortress was a cemetery. Many graves were perfectly laid out in three rows; there were eight graves in each row. A central path went through the cemetery and gave access to each resting place. A rook was preening itself on a tall cross and it didn’t look fazed with the human presence. It crowed once and then continued with its self maintenance. Each grave was marked by a unique stone, some crosses and others more specifically designed for the person they were a memorial to. One had a stone ballerina in the middle of a leap on top of it; another had a top hat on it, which Nick thought was unusual, another had a marble train carriage on it and another had an old fashioned racing car engraved into the stone marker.
‘You could play monopoly with all these!’ laughed Alan.
‘Have some respect,’ said Nick, but even he couldn’t help but smile, ‘It’s so odd, I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Same, but I don’t think it’s as amazing as them lot back on mainland said.’
‘Still, a nice trip.’
‘Yeah, if you like getting soaked!’ Alan jested, ‘Let’s be getting back then.’ Alan started heading for the gate.
‘Just a second or two more,’ Nick replied as he scanned the grave yard one more time. The two men then left the way they had entered. ‘Seems odd…’ Nick trailed off.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s just usually graveyards are on the outside of churches, not within their walls.’
‘Yeah, very odd,’ Alan said rolling his eyes. He led Nick out of the cemetery, leaving the gate wide open.
The men were back at the boat after they had followed the winding path down to the shore line again. The tide had come further up the shingle beach and the boat was swaying slightly in the shallow water. Nick approached the tree that had been used to secure the boat to the island and slowly untied the soggy rope. Alan started pushing the boat back into the water, and then they both jumped in after turning the boat around. Alan tugged on the cord to start the engine. Nothing. He tugged it again. Still nothing. He gave another firm tug with a frustrated expression on his face. The engine muttered; then it started smoking and hissed back at Alan’s angry face.
‘Problem?’ enquired Nick.
‘You think? It’s totally fried,’ he cursed, ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘That’s why my friend, you come prepared.’ Nick reached into the rucksack he left on the boat and pulled out a radio. He switched it on, a red light clicked on indicating a full battery. He then began to turn one of the knobs to tune it in to find the emergency channel that the boat’s owner back on land had given to them if any such incident occurred. ‘Right, here we go. Hello, hello? Anyone there? We need a little help please, we’re stranded on the central island.’ The radio cackled, but there was no other reply. ‘Hello? Help, anyone!’ The radio just produced white noise. ‘Damn it!’ He fiddled with the tuner again and repeated the request, still no one replied.
‘Perfect. Great. Fantastic!’ said Alan.
‘Relax, as soon as they realise one of their boats hasn’t returned they’ll be onto us in a flash. We’ve just got to sit it out. I’ve got a few snacks here.’ He began to rustle through the rucksack.
The sky became darker as clouds began to loom above them. There was a crack of thunder, with a flash of lightening to accompany the tremendous noise. The rain started to come down again. Nick and Alan pulled up their hoods and couldn’t help but laugh about the situation they found themselves in.
They decided it was best to head for cover within the island. After securing the boat again and picking up the rucksack they followed the thin path back into dripping foliage. They were soon on the outskirts of the small fortress. There was a high pitched scream. Both men stopped in their tracks, their boots sinking slightly in the soaking ground. They looked at each other. There was another squeal, similar to the first. Then another. Alan ran towards where he heard the noise. Then he saw what was producing it. He laughed at his and Nick’s misplaced fear.
‘It’s just the gate swinging in the wind, we forgot to close it!’ he chuckled back to Nick. He was relieved and laughed too. ‘Right let’s have a seat.’ Alan said as he kicked a few large rocks to see if they were firm and sturdy enough to play the role of a chair. Nick wandered over and perched next to him. He got a few biscuits out and the two enjoyed the tiny snack. After they had finished they pulled their hoods over their eyes and attempted to catch some sleep.
Nick was soon asleep but Alan couldn’t get comfortable and found himself drifting off and then either being woken by his head dropping down or by a bird call. He began to look around his surroundings; he was directly facing the cemetery and sighed.
Suddenly in front of him bright emerald lights shone out of the fortress’ walls, the lights then changed to golden yellow and then to crimson red. There was a rumbling that felt like it shook the entire island to the core. Nick woke up with a start.
‘What was that?’
‘No idea! There were lights too!’
‘Must be a mini-earthquake. Let’s get back to the shore; it’s going to be safer.’
Alan agreed despite the pouring rain.
The two men dashed back to the boat, Alan leading. There were more rumbles, which seemed to originate from the fortress. Nick slipped on leaves under his feet, Alan didn’t notice and continued running back to the boat despite Nick yelling.
‘Need a hand, sir?’
Nick gasped and couldn’t say a word.
‘Come along sir, you’ll miss the train! Is this your luggage?’ the figure said pointing at the rucksack, ‘I must say for the journey you’re taking it isn’t much, sir!’
The person standing in front of Nick was dressed in a porter’s uniform that was authentic in every detail, right down to the cap. But the uniform had no colour, it was just grey, it looked like the rain had bleached it.
‘Wh-wh-what’s going on?’ Nick said confused.
‘The train, sir! Quick she’s coming!’ There was a sound of a whistle blowing and the screech of train brakes and the figure glided away.
‘Wait! Come back!’ yelled Nick after it.
Meanwhile, Alan was quite a bit ahead and had lost the path; the water seemed to have swollen it whole. He was now attempting to head back to the fortress where he hoped he would find Nick.
‘Good day.’
‘What?’
‘I say good day, old chap.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am Mister…’
Alan cut him off, ‘How did you get here?’
‘Mister Tigworth. I should ask you the same question after all it is you who is on my estate!’ Tigworth chuckled to himself. He wore a grey coat with grey trousers and had a moustache that twirled around his mouth. Perched on top of his head was a top hat. Alan noticed it wasn’t only his costume that was grey, his face was pale too.
‘Estate? I…’
‘Yes, yes, would you like to come in for some tea?’
‘What, I don’t understand.’
‘Come on.’ Suddenly a bell rang, ‘Well that’s my call for tea. I must be off, see you again maybe?’ With that the ghostly figure was gone. Alan tried to pursue him but he disappeared amongst the foliage.
Nick was now running as fast as he could towards where he thought the boat was. There was a rustle amongst some thick ferns to his left. He froze to the spot. The rustling got closer; whatever was making the noise was struggling through the broad leaves and tangled roots of the trees nearby. A figure appeared before him.
‘Alan! I’m glad to see you!’ said Nick relieved.
‘Likewise, likewise. I think we should get out of here.’
The pair soon relocated the trail and made sure they were together at all times. On the way back they exchanged their stories. Nick offered an explanation of exhaustion and dehydration but Alan wasn’t convinced. Eventually they managed to navigate their way back to the beached boat. They could hear two people talking ahead. The voices seemed to be coming from the boat itself.
Nick called out, ‘Hey, who’s there?’
‘Who’s that?’ said one voice, distinctly female.
A male voice replied, ‘‘ow would I know?’
‘Go and see, go on.’
The figure of the first voice approached Nick. ‘Who are you, what are you doing out ‘ere?’
‘That’s our boat!’ Nick said with a mixture of confusion and frustration.
‘Good one, mate. That’s our boat. ‘ired it out for the evenin’, ‘aven’t we?’
Now the second voice joined them, she was quite a thin woman who held a parasol in her hand; she was wearing a dark grey dress that Nick thought was quite old fashioned. ‘I suppose you two gents know who I am?’
Nick and Alan exchanged blank looks.
‘Silly dears, haven’t you seen me at the theatre?’
‘I’m sorry we don’t know who you are, or you.’ said Alan looking at the woman and then at her partner, they were holding hands now.
‘Never mind, you must know my hubby to be though!’ she said this with great pride.
Again both men looked blank.
She sighed in frustration, ‘Do you gents not watch the racing?’ she smiled with pride again. ‘Anyway, we’re here to celebrate in peace: it’s our last night before we’re wed! So if you don’t mind gents.’ She hinted with her hands that she wanted them to leave. She and her fiancé went back to the boat, which was concealed by the night’s darkness. Only their outline could be seen with the moon’s light.
Nick turned to Alan and said in a hushed tone, ‘Now what?’
‘I don’t know: this is definitely where we left our boat.’
Nick then turned back to examine the scene, ‘Wait. Where have they gone?’
Both men looked at the boat but Nick was right, the happy couple had disappeared. They approached the boat warily. It was completely empty; it was still tied to the tree and rocked gently back and forth with the current.
There was a sudden humming. A golden light pierced through the thin mist that had formed over the lake’s waters. It moved from side to side as if it was seeking prey. The drone got louder as the light got brighter.
‘It’s the light again!’ Alan said.
Nick urged him to be quiet as he tried to focus his ears onto the sound, ‘Do you hear that?’
Alan looked blank.
‘Voices!’
‘Not again.’ Alan said as he covered his ears.
Nick pulled Alan’s hands from his ears, ‘No, listen!’
Alan listened, at first he couldn’t hear anything but the humming and then he heard the voices too.
‘Ahoy there,’ said one voice as the golden light picked out Alan and Nick. ‘Need some help?’ the voice seemed to tease.
‘We’ve found them,’ said one voice, a radio cackled back in reply.
‘Sorry we couldn’t get here quicker, we tried to ask for your exact location but it sounded like your radio was playing up.’
Alan still had fear in his eyes; he couldn’t believe this was his ticket to freedom.
‘Come aboard; let’s get you back to safety.’ The voice seemed to hiss slightly.
Nick started to approach the boat the two men were in. Their faces were concealed by the golden light that blinded both Nick and Alan. The two men leant over the side of the boat and pulled Nick up, ‘Come on, Alan.’
‘Wait, Nick, don’t!’ he sensed something was wrong.
One of the men on the boat called for Alan again, but he had started to run back into the island’s small forest. The golden ray of the light followed him amongst the trees until the foliage blocked the boat’s eye.
‘Time to go,’ one of the men said conclusively on the boat.
‘What? No! Wait, we have to get him back!’ Nick yelled.
‘Time to go,’ repeated the second man.
‘No, I won’t let you leave him here!’ Nick tried to scramble over the side of the boat but the men overpowered him and held him in the bottom of boat. Nick could hear the humming noise again; he knew they were moving away from the island at a high speed.
Back on the island Alan had pushed his way through the thick branches and leaves that attempted to block his way. He ran to the centre of the island, he saw the outline of the tower ahead of him, it spurred him on. He was soon at the gate, he pushed against, and it whined on its rusted hinges as it gave him access to the graveyard. His eyes scanned the cemetery. He stopped in his tracks as he saw one grave. Alan had noticed the small grey cross with moss on it before as it was the only one its row to not have any sort of engraving or mark upon it. But now it had an engraving of a name and on top of the grave stone was a small rock boat. Alan fell to his knees.