A short story competition entry of 800 words. A quiet stroll? A nightmare? Or.... The tiny, medieval church of St. Cleots stands nestled among the trees of the Fulmer Estate, near Witherby. I am visiting and paying my respects to the stonemasons, who built this fascinating shrine to God. A frequent pilgrim to old churches, the peace and tranquillity that such excursions usually afford me is today, however, distinctly uncomfortable.
My dog, Suzy, seems her usual self as she sniffs among the ancient gravestones and undergrowth, whilst I walk alongside the church towards the door.
The scenery is breathtaking, there's no doubt about that, but for some, obscure reason though, I'm sweating and, despite the open air, feel... claustrophobic.
The weathered characters on the gravestones shout at me to be read, but I turn away, a tingle running down my spine. Am I being watched? I can't see anyone, but the feeling's strong.
The handle on the church door turns and I am inside the vestibule. I flick a switch and delicate light illuminates the stunning interior. My first thought is how out of character the bulbs and wires look in this place that is aged beyond comprehension, where walls are adorned with Latin and Old English. A tiny staircase rises on one side through an aperture hardly big enough to crawl through. I can see gnarled, oak pews that have sat more people down through the ages than I can possibly imagine. It's like a step back in time and I feel so inadequate when I consider this. I look up, and on one of the original oak beams that stretches across the worn, slate floor of the knave, I can see a statue of Our Lady smiling down at me, baby Jesus in her arms. They remind me of Sharon, my Wife and Daughter, Lauren.
My footsteps echo as I walk down the aisle, towards the Alter. On both sides, buried in the walls are the tombs of past Lords and Ladies of the manor who once graced this hallowed ground before me, making me mindful of my low place in this life. In my mind I feel sure they're calling out to me. Urging me to them. I approach and touch the wall-stone that denotes the last resting place of Elizabeth De Luncy who died in 1575 and feel her presence.
"Stay with me," she whispers as she touches my soul. I yearn to see her, but she fades away.
"Come back!" I call, but silence is her only reply. I walk along the wall, examining the texts on each stone. As I pass, other voices, a long way off, echo around me. They sound indistinct and lost, yet close to me, these voices of the dead from ancient times.
I move across the Altar to another wall stone, that of John Francis, Physician to the De Luncy family, who died in 1542. The stone is so cold to the touch that I retract my hand from it, but the feeling remains.
"Can you hear me?" His memory whispers to me.
"Yes. Where are you?" I ask.
"There is nothing," he replies and he fades away. I'm unnerved at this. Goose bumps prickle my neck.
Suzy's sudden bark from outside makes me jump. As I leave, a sign tells me to switch off the lights. But, somehow, I don't want to be left in darkness. As my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight suddenly thrust in my eyes, I hear Suzy's barking becoming more agitated. I can see her digging, in a hollow beneath a headstone; her attention on something buried.
"Suzy! No!" As I near my dog, I see her pulling at something decayed. Sweet Jesus! It's an arm!
The wretched cloth is bloody and identical my own jacket. Suzy is licking the blood, whimpering. What is this?? I suddenly have an immense headache and feel sick in my stomach. I turn away to vomit only to see, out in the lane, the blackened, smoking, crumpled bonnet of my car. I see blood sprayed on the inside of the smashed windscreen.
I turn away in fear only to see, in horror, Sharon gliding slowly towards the door to the church.
"Sharon?!" I cry. But she's ignoring me.
"What's the matter with me?!"
She slows as walks past and cocks her head.
"Can't you hear me?!! Why don't you listen to me?!!!" I scream in frustration! Just then she turns and looks at me with stone-dead eyes as the voice of John Francis whispers in the distance, chilling to the bone,
"I'm sorry, but he's brain-dead".
"Switch him off," is all she says as she disappears inside the church.
Suddenly, I'm running towards her, tears running down my face!
"Don't' switch it off! Don't switch it off!! Don't you understand?! I'm not dead! I'm alive! I'm alive!! I'______________________________ |
spooky.
Written by umbugjug (46 comments posted) 1st August 2005 | very subtle. you do get drawn in to his viewpoint, through lots of cues like the dog barking, his feeling of being watched, his wife gliding.
then the ____________________ flatline. and all the cues mean something different than you first thought. nicely done.
one small point, alter should be altar. it kind of made me pause in reading at an important stage. | 'Stiff sentences'
Written by JJ (14 comments posted) 1st August 2005 | Hello Keith,
Okay, firstly I think maybe you were intentionally after a slow start here but this has lead to some pretty stiff and formal sentences:
‘A frequent pilgrim to old churches, the peace and tranquillity that such excursions usually afford me is today, however, distinctly uncomfortable’.
So what are you really saying here? Well, as I see it’s: ‘I’m a fan of old churches, usually they’re peaceful--this one isn’t.’ That's seems to be all you’ve said in 21 words. If you were after a slow start to fool the reader then I still think you ought to pare the language down a little so it’s more ‘user friendly’ and engaging.
My second problem is although you do have some places where you tell us how your character is feeling, personally, I think you could go a little deeper:
‘I turn away, a tingle running down my spine. Am I being watched? I can't see anyone, but the feeling's strong.
I suddenly have an immense headache and feel sick in my stomach. I turn away to vomit.’
Two examples where you could really expand upon your characters physical and emotional responses. In the second example: that ‘headache’, does it tighten his skull bones, make his sinuses hurt, his teeth? His stomach’s sick, what kind of sick, is it turning over, is acid burning his throat, is he sweating, is his heartbeat tripping beats, can he draw breathe. Even more important what is he ‘thinking’ as all these bodily responses are happening?
I was taught to always remember that human beings have five senses, and advised to try to use some of the forgotten ones too, whenever I can, such as smell and touch. I hope you get the picture, which brings me to another point I’ve been warned about:
‘My dog, Suzy, seems her usual self as she sniffs among the ancient gravestones and undergrowth, whilst I walk alongside the church towards the door.’
Gravestones, undergrowth, door, are all places where you could add to the feel of the piece by expanding the description, sometimes only by a word or so. You really don’t have to go mad, rather you have to make every single word used work for you. The gravestones could be a colour, they could have moss, they could be standing at angles. The undergrowth could be grass and nettles; they could be stirring in a breeze. The church door could be a dark wood, a pitted wood, a carved wood. My point is every word you use can add a little to the feel of the story without you having to work very hard at it at all. I’ll stress that these ‘added’ words must be those ‘working hard’ for you words not any used just for the sake of being ‘pretty padding.’
As far as the story goes I think you have something good here, leading the reader one way then yanking them in a completely different direction is difficult to do effectively, I’d have just have liked a little more ‘feel’ here to add to the twist, and a little less of those rather ‘stilted’ sentences.
JJ.
|
Written by Krish (51 comments posted) 3rd August 2005 | Great ending. Took me by surprise and made me want to read it over to see what I missed.
Also, the "_________" is a nice touch.
In the first half however some of the sentences felt a bit awkward. Like for example: "My dog, Suzy . . . . . towards the door." I think re writing these sentences would help.
 | Hit by accident
Written by BrianRobertNeal (1195 comments posted) 9th August 2005 | then had to register and hit again to write a review. The initial hook was my love of old Churches. You caught the feel of a pre "Decorated/Perpendicular" church so well.
The twist was brilliant and runs parralel to the one in my Gracious Saviour, but you've done it far more economically.
An excellent piece of writing thank youi
Brian | Hit by accident
Written by BrianRobertNeal (1195 comments posted) 9th August 2005 | then had to register and hit again to write a review. The initial hook was my love of old Churches. You caught the feel of a pre "Decorated/Perpendicular" church so well.
The twist was brilliant and runs parralel to the one in my Gracious Saviour, but you've done it far more economically.
An excellent piece of writing thank youi
Brian | Liked it
Written by IPFaulkner (83 comments posted) 23rd May 2006 | yeah, I can see how it does seem a bit formal at the start. Thought it might at first be non-fiction! How wrong can you be!
But the second half is the best. Very well done.
Good stuff
IP |
Only registered users can rate and write comments.
Please login or register. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
Previous item
