~~~~ChapterOne~~~~                                    

                                             
          Katie find’s a friend

        Katie was a highly unusual girl for the tender age of eight. Firstly, and most importantly she could speak with the dead. For another, she loved playing and exploring deserted graveyards with her older brother, Callum. In fact she could state quite correctly that most of her best friends lived on the other side.

        However as an amplifier for the ramblings of the deceased she had her enemies. These were the creatures that were known as gargoyles. She hated theses monstrous creatures that spent endless hours clinging to crumbling church walls like rotten lichen. She felt that they were forever watching her play.

       She could sense their stony torsos twisting as she hid amongst gravestones that resembled rotting teeth. Rising her head she could see her brother’s shadow as the high noon sun played across the sky. In her peaceful place of concealment she could hear his quiet counting. Jumping, she saw the flicker of golden sunshine playing across the gargoyles rough horns.

‘Coming, ready or not,’ Callum called.

      They both were enjoying their summer holiday. This year was the first time that they had visited their Grandparents in the country and they were having great fun.

     She shrunk down even further into the darkness behind the grave. The long unmown grass hid her freckly face from her quarry. Feeling the small bony finger touch her bare shoulder she felt her blood freeze. It wasn’t Callum’s hand; he was further away, combing her usual hiding places.

‘Hi there, my names Thomas. Can I play?’ a voice whispered into her ear.

What she thought was a decaying skeleton was in actual fact a young boy of her own age. He looked a little odd to say the least. His head seemed almost to big in relation with the rest of his thin frame. Squinting behind thick black glasses he looked every inch a total dork. 

‘Sssh, he’ll hear us,’ Katie whispered back.

‘I know all the best hiding places in this graveyard,’ said Thomas, paying no notice to Katie’s advice.

‘Will you be quiet, he’s coming this way.’

‘I can hear you Kate. I’m coming to get you,’ shouted the broistous tones of her older brother. With her face buried in the cool grass she could hear him beating the ground with his favourite stick; the one that was shaped like a sword. Holding her breath her eyes danced across the gravestone that she was hiding behind. She could just about read the words through the grime and weathering of the centuries.

                                          Mary Turner                                   

                                        Beloved Mother

                             May you rest in eternal peace..

She was wondering whether to ask Mary if she had died in childbirth when an excited Callum appeared at the top of the gravestone, he’s blond curl’s flowing in the warm summer breeze.

‘Found you easily,’ he said before noticing the other boy, his head hidden in the dense grass. ‘Hello there, who are you?’

Rising from the grass he replied, ‘Hi, my names Thomas and I live here.’

‘Do you mean you live in one of these graves? You must have died, for only the dead live underground,’ said Katie, slowly backing away.

‘Don’t be so silly. I live in a house next to the church,’ he said, pointing to a small thatched cottage. ‘The graveyard is part of my garden.’

‘Then you must know the Vicar,’ Callum said.

‘Yes, he’s my Dad I’m afraid.’

‘That’s must be really boring. All them sermons, Bible reading, and singing stupid hymns,’ huffed Katie.

‘God isn’t stupid. My Dad says God is the answer to all the worlds problems,’ Thomas stated, trying hard to sound important.

‘Well I rather play hide-and-seek. Your Dad wouldn’t mind would we?’ asked Katie.

‘Of course not, especially if I can join in with you,’ Thomas said cheekily.

‘Go on Kate, its your turn to find us. Close your eyes and count to hundred while we go and hide,’ Callum said pulling Thomas with him. ‘And no cheating, and looking through the gap in your eyes,’ he said, as the pair disappeared behind the collection of tombstones.

‘I know a place where she never find us,’ Thomas said.

 Smiling Callum followed his newfound friend in the direction of the imposing church.

                     ~~~~~~~~~        ~~~~~~~~~            ~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Ninety three, ninety four,’ counted Katie, before glancing through the crack in her fingers. ‘Coming to get you both.’

    Looking around the graveyard nothing was moving. In fact it looked exactly like a graveyard, lifeless and dull. But under the baking ground she knew the soil was heaving with vibrant life. She could hear the dead moving like an unruly crowd at a football match. She could hear the cries of torment as they shifted position trying to get comfortable within their graves. Most of them paid her no attention, but some shouted rude words as she walked past.

    Stopping she heard the shrill cry of a child, barely older than herself. She liked making new friends, especially young people like herself; after all it wasn’t their fault that they were dead. And it cheered them up and made their life much more bearable. Besides it couldn’t be much fun laying forever in the mud and dirt with worms and other horrible insects forever crawling over your naked body.

      Her best friend was Sophie, who died in a car crash when she was just a little over six years old. She was the first dead person that Katie talked to. She remembered sneaking down to the little white cross, the one with the cherubs and pretty spray carnations at every opportunity. That was when her friend told her to shut up blubbering and to inform her of all the latest gossip going on in class.  It didn’t seem strange talking to the dead to Katie, but to her mother it must have seemed weird because the next day she found herself dragged along to see a horrible man in white coat.

       He didn’t understand that most of the dead like to chat. Katie remembered him explaining that all kids went through phases that involved imaginary friends and she would get over it in time. Katie felt like kicking him in the shin, especially when he patted her on the head telling her, ‘Go and play with your dollies like a good little girl.’ That was over two years ago. And still the dead liked to come to talk, just as the girl in this graveyard was proving.

       Something was wrong through. The whole atmosphere of the afternoon had changed in the last few minutes. She could feel a breeze picking up. The trees were swaying, their branches cracking wildly. The sun had vanished behind the gathering grey blanket of clouds.

   A tornado of loose leafs flowed around her bare legs as she gingerly made up her way down the pathway. That was when she heard the cry from a nearby grave.

Bending down she brushed the mould from the headstone, trying to find a name to the voice. Feeling the rough stone she could just make out the name Anne. Lowing her strawberry blonde hair to the ground she listened intently.

‘Watch out for them!’ the voice screamed from deep underground.

‘Anne, is that you talking?  I’m I in some sort of trouble?’ At first there was no reply to her questions. Then a deep rumbling emerged from the beneath the ground.

‘Beware the gargoyles, they want you dead,’ a male said, his voice coming from the grave next to Anne.

‘But why do they?’

She was interrupted by the man’s warning as a bolt of lighting flashed past her.

‘Behind you!’ Anne screamed at the top of her voice.

  Turning round Katie felt the blood drain from her body. Shuffling slowly toward her were three gargoyles, their hoofs scraping across the flagstones of the churchyard. She had never seen anything as ugly and grotesque as these creatures. Their twisted features snarled at her as they eagerly scampered forward. 

Holding her chin up high she shouting a defiant warning at her aggressors, ‘I’m not frightened of you!’

  A bolt of pure energy flashed past her in response.

 Instinctively she tottered backward, her feet slipping as she lost her footing. She was saved from falling and hitting her head on a gravestone as an arm grabbed out, steadying her fall.

‘Now what trouble have you got us into Kate?’ asked Callum, his voice full of sarcasm.

‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what they want,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘They just kept watching me, and then they jumped from their perches.’

Rigid with fear Thomas stuttered, ‘I don’t believe this is happening.’

As the trio slowly backed away Callum said, ‘Ah, you kind of get used to crazy things like this with my sister.’

‘Is she some kind of witch? Can she cast magic spells to stop them?’ asked Thomas, his voice full of hope.

‘Hardly, she can’t even do her math’s homework without my help,’ said Callum.

Giving him a murderous glance Katie hit her brother. 

With a dejected sigh Thomas asked, ‘Well we better think of something quick, because they seem quite hungry, and I don’t fancy being lunch just yet.’

‘Do be quiet you two. Everybody knows that gargoyles hunt by sound. All we have to do is stand still and they’re go away,’ Katie snapped at the boys.

‘Who do you think you are, Buffy?’ popped Thomas before following the example of his friends by turning to a block of stone.

‘I think it’s working,’ Callum whispered to his sister.

  Necks swivelling around the gargoyles turned round as one, red orbs glowing in hatred as they sensed the frightened children. Snarling they shuffled forward, their talons scraping in anticipation at the killing of their prey.

‘I think its time for plan b,’ said Katie.

‘What’s that?’ the other two asked in unison. 

‘Run!’ she screamed, turning and running in the direction of the welcoming safety of the church. Their tiny legs were a blur as they sprinted down the winding church path. Out of breath they reached the imposing oak door.

‘It’s locked,’ stated Thomas, seeing Katie frantically tugging at the handle.

‘My dad always locks it now, in case of vandals. He’s got the only key, I’m afraid.’

Looking round in desperation they searched in vain for a way in.

The church was impregnable as a fortress. Even the large stain glass windows were covered by wire mesh, offering no means of entry.

‘We’re trapped!’ screamed Katie, as they stood back to back against the wall.

Watching in horror they witnessed the gargoyles spreading themselves out, thus cutting of any means of escape.

      That was when Katie noticed the unusual grave hidden at the side of the church. It was shaped like a large mound. A small wooden cross could just be seen jutting out from under the wild unkempt grass. But what was more extraordinary was the fact that hidden beneath the dense foliage the outline of a strange wooden door could just be made out. It was extremely small, and even Katie’s tiny four feet frame would have been hard pushed to clamber through the entrance.  

‘I wonder who’s grave this belongs to?’ Katie thought out aloud.

‘I don’t know, I’ve never noticed it before,’ Thomas replied.

But it was Callum that reminded them of the immediate threat looming ever closer. ‘We better do something quick, or we’re be buried ourselves very soon.’

‘Come on then, I’ve got an idea,’ said Katie, dragging the boys roughly in the direction of the doorway.

    Snarling loudly the gargoyles followed their progress, creeping ever forward with the intention of cutting of a route of escape.

     Up close they noticed weird spirally symbols craved into the wooden door.   

  Down hearted they noticed a chain complete with a large brass padlock keeping the door locked against unwanted intruders.

‘Now what do we do?’ Callum said shaking the chain in frustration.

‘Only one thing to do, try to contact the owner,’ Katie said, getting down on her knees and whispering into the ground.

‘Excuse me, but what’s all the commotion about. Can’t a man get any sleep around here.’ Callum and Thomas both spun round to watch in amazement as a figure floated up through the ground. Dressed in a scruffy suit the old man resembled a scarecrow. Rising vertically they noticed he was tall and thin, built almost like a lamppost.

‘I say, please could you keep the noise down a trifle bit lower,’ he said, addressing the gargoyles.

They responded by hissing and spitting fire in his general direction. Shaking an unruly shock of white hair in the gargoyles direction he conjured up a whistle, which he promptly blew on. A black mongrel dog appeared, floating from the ground.

It was only stopped from drifting away by the man pulling on its lead, a long piece of brown string.

‘Lady, please could encourage our friends to return to sleep,’ he said, indicating the monsters a few feet away. Releasing her from his grip the dog scampered after the gargoyles barking furiously as she ran round them like she was rounding up sheep.

With a furlong hiss the gargoyles disappeared like a puff of smoke as the dog chased them back from whence they came.

‘Who are you?’ asked Callum in awe, as the dog returned to its owner, its tail wagging furiously.

‘Major George, at your service.’ Throwing the dog a oxo cube he said, ‘The dog is named Lady, and always goes to work on a square meal every day.’

Looking at each other Callum and Katie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

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