Harry and Coral had been in their new house for a couple of months now. The house was new to them but had been around for over one hundred years so had probably witnessed a fair number of new owners stamping their identity on it. The latest owners were no different and had spent the first couple of months adjusting enough of the interior to make it feel their own. Now it was time for the outside. The timing was perfect. It was late spring and the weather was getting just that little better, the days longer and any work done to the garden would see a speedy transformation brought on by the rampant growth at this time of year.
So, while Coral prepared a fancy meal as a reward for Harry’s outside work he went to it in the garden. Harry liked days like this; they both did. It was going to be a day of traditional role-play, he out in the garden doing manly things whilst she worked in the kitchen being the earth mother. Coral enjoyed it because Harry didn’t expect it all the time and she knew he was quite happy to cook while she gardened. Today, though, the work in the garden was of the heavier sort and whilst Coral was fully capable of manhandling clods of earth she wasn’t really in the mood. Harry was. He had had a tough week at work and was looking forward to venting a bit of spleen on the earth.
The house was a large detached Victorian affair. It had four bedrooms and enough land to enable a previous owner to build a double garage on it. The area was very well established and very quiet. All the homes were in fairly substantial plots, which gave each one a secluded air. This had been the best house they had ever had and the intention was to settle here indefinitely. The price had been good too, surprisingly good. The previous owner had been keen for a quick sale so Harry and Coral had been able to move unexpectedly upmarket. They new well enough that one reason for the good price, as well as the quick sale, was the empty property next to them. It was of a similar type and age but was boarded up with an unkempt garden that had too many trees in it. It had been vacant a while and was starting to look it. The side gate into it was chained up and behind it was a green darkness from the over abundant vegetation. The fact that each property was very private and that this one was separated from Harry and Coral’s home by a small side road encouraged them to take the gamble. They intended to be around long enough to see that property sold which of course would enhance their own when it came to moving or, hopefully, leaving it as an inheritance. Next door had been vacant for about five years they’d been told.
Today was a heavy digging day. The front garden overlooked the main road into the area. It wasn’t a busy road as it only fed about thirty homes. Their garage opened onto this. At the side next to the vacant house there was a little road that stopped at a farm gate between his house and the empty one to give access to a field. Harry was going to work on this side area today. The two sides that butted onto the roads had a good wrought iron railing as a border and Harry was digging out all the turf a foot wide between the railing and the pavement to widen the whole border. The other side, the inside, of the railing had already been tidied up and planted up. This would enhance the whole look he thought.
The sky was a chilly white and the day was dry but cool with just a hint of a breeze that provided a reminder that it wasn’t summer yet. That made it a good day for a bit of heavy work. By heavy I mean heavier than Harry was used to. He was, if anything, a little lazy physically and had a sedentary job too. But, as long as he took his time he’d get the work done and enjoy that warm feeling when finished and sat down with a glass of beer.
Harry had already worked out a routine when taking the turf up from the front border. He’d work a six-foot section at a time. First he would loosen the turf with a fork and then slowly lever it up and deposit it in his wheelbarrow. The little journeys with a barrow full of turfs helped give his back a little time to recover and he would detour to look at a plant or take out a weed on the way round to the back garden where he tipped out the turfs. It was all very pleasant and measured but didn’t stop him working up a sweat. The fleece he had come out in before working his muscles had only stayed on for fifteen minutes before being hung over the railing.
After about an hour or so he became aware of a rattling noise. He turned around and saw that the chain on the gate to the neighbouring property rattled every time the breeze struck up. The gate itself was old and needed a good wire brushing and paint job. The chain was new but the padlock looked old. Beyond the gate it was shrouded in dark greenery, which made it difficult to discern much. The side path wound away sharply to the back of the house which could only be dimly seen through the trees and shrubbery. He was thankful of that as it meant that the boarded windows couldn’t be seen without actually entering the garden and getting closer. He hadn’t done that and didn’t intend to. It was a forbidding place that didn’t need any “no trespassing” signs.
Harry continued working. The breeze grew a little stronger and, consequently, so did the rattling. It never seemed to rattle when he looked over though; only when he had his back to it and was busy hefting turfs. He thought no more of it as he slowly worked his way along the border. Coral came out with a very welcome glass of beer and they passed a few minutes chatting. She teased him about the surprise she was preparing for their shared meal later knowing that it would keep him going and maybe encourage him to speed up a little. It did. She waited for him to drain the glass and then disappeared back to the warmth of the house and the kitchen. Harry suddenly felt a chill of loneliness at her departure. He wanted to follow her into that warmth and share the companionship and cosiness that she was creating in their home. He heard the rattle again and shivered a little without knowing why. Maybe it reminded him of the cool breeze. He looked forward to finishing.
With a little more despatch, Harry set to. The journeys with the wheelbarrow were not broken with detours any more and the sweat became a little more profuse. His routine was more practised and now he was nearing the end of his work. He was happy now. Soon he’d be finished and the timing was perfect. He was dirty, hungry and just a little tired. But not too tired. He’d enjoy a shower and a beer and then sit down to a hearty meal with his lovely Coral
The breeze had dropped. The gate rattled. Strange. Harry turned around and noticed that the chain was now lying on the ground and the gate was open. The hairs on the back of his neck shivered at something unknown.
Coral had lost track of time in the kitchen until the oven timer went telling her that she was nearly done. She’d tried to time it for when Harry was finished and was a little irritated that he hadn’t come in to clean up. She dropped what she was doing, switched the oven off and went out to see what he was up to, ready to tell him off for dawdling.
She got to the side garden and there was no sign of him. All the tools were there, including the wheelbarrow. Maybe he was in the back garden. Walking briskly around she soon discovered that he wasn’t there either. And after a few minutes back in the house, by now shouting his name, it was clear that he wasn’t there either. The car was still in the garage too. Coral was a little disconcerted as she walked back to where she had last seen him in the hope that he’d be back there as though nothing had happened. He wasn’t.
She looked over to the plot with the empty house on it and gazed at the gate. It was closed and the chain was on it so he couldn’t have gone in there surely?
The gate rattled.
Monday, 26 October 2009
A Walk in the Woods
You know that warm sultry time of late summer. Time seems to slow down on those hot sunny days when everything you do seems to take twice as long and, frankly, you don’t care either. The sheer abundant luxuriance of this time invites a kind of laziness that has as much to do with conserving energy as anything else. Eddie was feeling like that right now. He had come out for a walk as a diversion and for some exercise. A favourite wooded walk was his choice. It was a favourite because it combined everything he liked about walking. It combined woody glades with open fields and views over a fair distance. It was that perfect combination of woodland that draped itself languorously over a hill with fingers that held the hillside like a huge green hand.
Eddie liked walking. It was his favourite exercise in that it provided variety and allowed his thoughts to wander as well as views to peruse. He could disappear into his imagination and then reappear at will as and when the mood took him and the outside world distracted or interested him. It made him feel good about himself too. He could feel the muscles working. It calmed him. He was not a calm man. Outwardly easy going, inwardly, his mind was a cauldron of perceived slights, over sensitive reactions to other people’s behaviour both positive and negative. His emotions were not grey at all. He presented a façade of affable calm but spent his time within his imagination careering through a world of vividly coloured passion. He enjoyed it for most of the time but there were those times when it just got a bit too much and he would resort to dulling the intensity with drink or, a better option, a walk. He drank more during the bad weather. He was a fair weather walker.
Unlike many walkers he did not have all the gear. Not for him the proper walking socks, rucksack, pants and the rest. He did have good footwear and a decent rainproof jacket with a hood. But that was it. This was unusual for Eddie as his other hobbies and interests tended to bring out that tendency of all men, a tendency to spend money on toys associated with the hobby.
Today was an almost ideal kind of day for such a walk. By almost let’s just say that it was a little too warm to get a really good stride in. That gave him more time to linger over the walk itself. The paths were good and he could take various loops of various lengths depending on mood, time and inclination. Today he had the time so he took the longest loop that carried him around the perimeter of the wood and just cut across a finger or two that hugged the sides of the hill. It was about seven miles which was a comfortable distance that did not intrude on the whole day or tire him too much but did allow him the luxury of feeling that he had had a good work out. It represented, to him, the perfect balance of exercise and enjoyment. The only thing it didn’t have was a pond or a decent river to walk by, although it did have a small stream that scurried down.
He wandered along the meandering path with the comfort of trees to his right and a view down a gentle green ravine towards more low hills on the other side of a patchwork valley of fields, farms and a small settlement. As he rounded the head of the ravine the path entered the wood and a cooler stretch washed in a greenish hue. He loved this section of the path; the exhilaration of the open view giving way to the cool green mystery of the wood. It was like a door into another world; the branches swaying at either side of the path like arms beckoning him in. Through he went, enjoying the cooler air that caressed him almost seductively. Further ahead and higher up the wood cleared a little, opening up into a glade that had some picnic table and benches. There was also a very old oak that he had found to be the perfect place to sit with his back resting on its comforting trunk. He’d sit there to have some sandwiches sometimes. Today he had only brought water and a chocolate bar. He still fancied a rest though, not because he was tired but because it enhanced and lengthened the whole experience of his walk. A break gave a depth to the walk, a sort of before and after that would allow him to have different memories of the different parts of his walk. If he stayed long enough the second part of his amble out would often take on a completely different mood. The light would sometimes change, clouds would appear; even rain. He liked that.
He sat down and had a swig of his water. Where he sat was pleasantly shielded from the glare of the sun. It was comfortable too, with the tree trunk sloping as though contoured to his body. A couple of young women passed by in a babble of feminine chitter-chatter. Unlike him they didn’t seem interested in their surroundings, or him, but were engrossed in whatever it was they were talking about. They barely gave him a glance. He wasn’t bothered. Funny, that, he thought. Eddie didn’t want conversation or, indeed, any human interaction here. He wanted to observe, to experience, to feel, to fantasise and to stay in his own head whilst using his surroundings as stimuli. He could watch and absorb the warmth at a distance whilst he drifted in and out of his own thoughts and dreams. As he bit into his chocolate bar he allowed his eyes to wander over to a patch of brightness that picked out some small flies buzzing around in a seemingly aimless fuzzy whirl. The daydreams became more surreal as his subconscious started to make itself felt. He was going to doze and he knew it. He welcomed it. It was all part of the experience.
It seemed a long time before the dozing lifted. In fact it hadn’t been a doze, more a full blown crash out, he thought. The sunlight had faded a little and this told him that the day had moved on. Automatically he looked at his watch. It wasn’t there. Vaguely puzzled, he looked at the ground where his arm had rested. It wasn’t there either but as he did so he became aware that something was on his head. It was a hat. A hat for chrissake. Pulling it down to see it he saw that it looked like those old-fashioned deerstalkers but without the flaps. What the fuck was this? Had some kids stuck it on his head while he was sleeping?
By now he was fully awake and starting to become uncomfortably aware of other things. He smelt. It was him too. He smelt sweaty, not unclean, just an earthy sweaty smell of someone who had not showered or bathed for a couple of days. Then he noticed his feet. Instead of the walking boots that he had put on they were encased in well-worn brown leather laced up affairs. He didn’t own anything like that. His eyes ran up his legs in puzzled bemusement as he realized that all his clothing was different from what he had set out in. His trousers were a thick brown woolly type that ended at his knees from where thick green woollen socks ran down to these brown leather ankle boots. His jacket was brown too and more like a conventional thing worn to the office but with more pockets and made of a thick tweedy type of material. Everything seemed so substantial and, well, heavy.
Eddie was wide-awake now. He sprang to his feet and examined his newfound clothing with the scrutiny and interest of a young boy who has discovered his penis. He was agog. What on earth had lead to all of this? Was it some enormous practical joke? He was standing now and for the first time noticed the tree he had been resting against. It was different. It was ever so slightly smaller. He shuddered at that. Eddie turned to the path. That was different too. Where there had been a path of compacted grit there was now a track of beaten earth. When Eddie realised that the picnic benches weren’t there he shivered.
Voices in the wood provided respite to his jumbled thoughts. He looked at the source of them as they entered the clearing he was in. Two young women again. Only this time they were dressed in something that looked like it should have come from a historical drama. Long dark skirts with tight bodices and all topped by little hats that reminded him of those very old films of late Victorian times. They sported small parasols too. These two were different in another way. They looked over to him as though expecting something. Without thinking he doffed his hat and smiled. It seemed appropriate, although he didn’t have time to give it much thought. They smiled and nodded and walked on.
Eddie just stood there completely nonplussed as to what had happened. He felt warm too. The clothes he was wearing were heavy and not what he was used to. Was this some great practical joke? The best way to get to the bottom of this was to walk back to his car. That would give him a reference point although he doubted it. The change to the tree and the paths unnerved him. No practical joker could do that.
He woke with a start. His heart was pounding. Quickly he ran his hands over his head and body and to his intense relief the hat and the heavy clothing had disappeared; a dream with a dream. Getting up he stamped his feet and patted the tree as though to reassure himself that he wasn’t still dreaming. It was time to get back to his car he thought and didn’t so much walk as march back to it. Eddie wanted to be in as much contact with the modern world as he possibly could. As he walked back he pondered on what had happened, remembering that the woods did have a history, a history of murder that he would have to look up when he got back.
Eddie liked walking. It was his favourite exercise in that it provided variety and allowed his thoughts to wander as well as views to peruse. He could disappear into his imagination and then reappear at will as and when the mood took him and the outside world distracted or interested him. It made him feel good about himself too. He could feel the muscles working. It calmed him. He was not a calm man. Outwardly easy going, inwardly, his mind was a cauldron of perceived slights, over sensitive reactions to other people’s behaviour both positive and negative. His emotions were not grey at all. He presented a façade of affable calm but spent his time within his imagination careering through a world of vividly coloured passion. He enjoyed it for most of the time but there were those times when it just got a bit too much and he would resort to dulling the intensity with drink or, a better option, a walk. He drank more during the bad weather. He was a fair weather walker.
Unlike many walkers he did not have all the gear. Not for him the proper walking socks, rucksack, pants and the rest. He did have good footwear and a decent rainproof jacket with a hood. But that was it. This was unusual for Eddie as his other hobbies and interests tended to bring out that tendency of all men, a tendency to spend money on toys associated with the hobby.
Today was an almost ideal kind of day for such a walk. By almost let’s just say that it was a little too warm to get a really good stride in. That gave him more time to linger over the walk itself. The paths were good and he could take various loops of various lengths depending on mood, time and inclination. Today he had the time so he took the longest loop that carried him around the perimeter of the wood and just cut across a finger or two that hugged the sides of the hill. It was about seven miles which was a comfortable distance that did not intrude on the whole day or tire him too much but did allow him the luxury of feeling that he had had a good work out. It represented, to him, the perfect balance of exercise and enjoyment. The only thing it didn’t have was a pond or a decent river to walk by, although it did have a small stream that scurried down.
He wandered along the meandering path with the comfort of trees to his right and a view down a gentle green ravine towards more low hills on the other side of a patchwork valley of fields, farms and a small settlement. As he rounded the head of the ravine the path entered the wood and a cooler stretch washed in a greenish hue. He loved this section of the path; the exhilaration of the open view giving way to the cool green mystery of the wood. It was like a door into another world; the branches swaying at either side of the path like arms beckoning him in. Through he went, enjoying the cooler air that caressed him almost seductively. Further ahead and higher up the wood cleared a little, opening up into a glade that had some picnic table and benches. There was also a very old oak that he had found to be the perfect place to sit with his back resting on its comforting trunk. He’d sit there to have some sandwiches sometimes. Today he had only brought water and a chocolate bar. He still fancied a rest though, not because he was tired but because it enhanced and lengthened the whole experience of his walk. A break gave a depth to the walk, a sort of before and after that would allow him to have different memories of the different parts of his walk. If he stayed long enough the second part of his amble out would often take on a completely different mood. The light would sometimes change, clouds would appear; even rain. He liked that.
He sat down and had a swig of his water. Where he sat was pleasantly shielded from the glare of the sun. It was comfortable too, with the tree trunk sloping as though contoured to his body. A couple of young women passed by in a babble of feminine chitter-chatter. Unlike him they didn’t seem interested in their surroundings, or him, but were engrossed in whatever it was they were talking about. They barely gave him a glance. He wasn’t bothered. Funny, that, he thought. Eddie didn’t want conversation or, indeed, any human interaction here. He wanted to observe, to experience, to feel, to fantasise and to stay in his own head whilst using his surroundings as stimuli. He could watch and absorb the warmth at a distance whilst he drifted in and out of his own thoughts and dreams. As he bit into his chocolate bar he allowed his eyes to wander over to a patch of brightness that picked out some small flies buzzing around in a seemingly aimless fuzzy whirl. The daydreams became more surreal as his subconscious started to make itself felt. He was going to doze and he knew it. He welcomed it. It was all part of the experience.
It seemed a long time before the dozing lifted. In fact it hadn’t been a doze, more a full blown crash out, he thought. The sunlight had faded a little and this told him that the day had moved on. Automatically he looked at his watch. It wasn’t there. Vaguely puzzled, he looked at the ground where his arm had rested. It wasn’t there either but as he did so he became aware that something was on his head. It was a hat. A hat for chrissake. Pulling it down to see it he saw that it looked like those old-fashioned deerstalkers but without the flaps. What the fuck was this? Had some kids stuck it on his head while he was sleeping?
By now he was fully awake and starting to become uncomfortably aware of other things. He smelt. It was him too. He smelt sweaty, not unclean, just an earthy sweaty smell of someone who had not showered or bathed for a couple of days. Then he noticed his feet. Instead of the walking boots that he had put on they were encased in well-worn brown leather laced up affairs. He didn’t own anything like that. His eyes ran up his legs in puzzled bemusement as he realized that all his clothing was different from what he had set out in. His trousers were a thick brown woolly type that ended at his knees from where thick green woollen socks ran down to these brown leather ankle boots. His jacket was brown too and more like a conventional thing worn to the office but with more pockets and made of a thick tweedy type of material. Everything seemed so substantial and, well, heavy.
Eddie was wide-awake now. He sprang to his feet and examined his newfound clothing with the scrutiny and interest of a young boy who has discovered his penis. He was agog. What on earth had lead to all of this? Was it some enormous practical joke? He was standing now and for the first time noticed the tree he had been resting against. It was different. It was ever so slightly smaller. He shuddered at that. Eddie turned to the path. That was different too. Where there had been a path of compacted grit there was now a track of beaten earth. When Eddie realised that the picnic benches weren’t there he shivered.
Voices in the wood provided respite to his jumbled thoughts. He looked at the source of them as they entered the clearing he was in. Two young women again. Only this time they were dressed in something that looked like it should have come from a historical drama. Long dark skirts with tight bodices and all topped by little hats that reminded him of those very old films of late Victorian times. They sported small parasols too. These two were different in another way. They looked over to him as though expecting something. Without thinking he doffed his hat and smiled. It seemed appropriate, although he didn’t have time to give it much thought. They smiled and nodded and walked on.
Eddie just stood there completely nonplussed as to what had happened. He felt warm too. The clothes he was wearing were heavy and not what he was used to. Was this some great practical joke? The best way to get to the bottom of this was to walk back to his car. That would give him a reference point although he doubted it. The change to the tree and the paths unnerved him. No practical joker could do that.
He woke with a start. His heart was pounding. Quickly he ran his hands over his head and body and to his intense relief the hat and the heavy clothing had disappeared; a dream with a dream. Getting up he stamped his feet and patted the tree as though to reassure himself that he wasn’t still dreaming. It was time to get back to his car he thought and didn’t so much walk as march back to it. Eddie wanted to be in as much contact with the modern world as he possibly could. As he walked back he pondered on what had happened, remembering that the woods did have a history, a history of murder that he would have to look up when he got back.
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