TLKBM will continue (and I hope you’re enjoying it) and also I have another project planned for when it’s done.

“That be all yer luggage, Miss”, the coach driver said.

“Thank you”, Alice said tipping him.

“Thank ye Miss, can I be of any further assistance?”

“No, that will do”.

The driver ascended the carriage, snapped the reigns and drove away.  Alice picked up her suitcase and walked towards the door, rapping on it twice.

When the door opened, Alice greeted Beatrice with a smile and a polite nod, “Is my brother-in-law here?”

Beatrice scanned Alice up and down with her eyes and then nodded.  “Yes, he’s inside”.  Beatrice failed to move.

“Can I see him?”

“Maybe you should come back another time”.

Alice frowned.  “Why?”

Beatrice stepped forwards, closing the door behind her and taking Alice in her arm.  “What has happened to his wife, to your sister, is most dreadful”, she said.  “I assume you know the details?”

“I only know that she was found in her bed dying”.

“By her own hand”.

Alice pulled herself from Beatrice.  “If, Miss Pollock, you’re telling me that my sister killed herself then you’ll forgive me for being aghast and disbelieving you”.

“I do forgive you for that, but what I say is the truth.  Roger came home and found his wife in her bed, bleeding.  She had cut her throat”.

“Preposterous!  Why would she do such a thing?”

“I do not know, but I do know that a woman like you I just think Roger needs some time to be alone”.

“He’s not alone”, Alice said. “You are with him.  Miss Pollock, I’d ask that you let me in to see my brother-in-law or else I’ll knock your silly head off”.

Beatrice laughed.  “Typical Alice.  That’s the only way a ruffian like you could ever solve any problems.  I suppose you must be right at home in the north. I’ve heard a lot about those cities and the people who live in them, they must have taken to you so well”.

“Typical Beatrice”, Alice said as she moved up nose-to-nose.  “A money-grabbing whore who couldn’t even wait for my sister’s body to cool in the ground before she jammed her talons into her wealthy husband”.

“How dare–“

“Beatrice, who is it?” Roger stepped out of the house into the street, then he saw who it was and lowered his head.  “Hello Alice”.

Alice moved past Beatrice, “Roger we need to talk about Catherine”.

#

“It’s true”, Roger said.  “I couldn’t have believed it had I not seen it, but its true: my poor Catherine took her own life and I don’t know why.  Is it my fault, did I do anything wrong?”

“Of course not”, Beatrice said.

Alice scowled at her.  The three of them were in the lounge. Roger was sat in his usual armchair with Beatrice standing obediently by his side, much to Alice’s disapproval.

“Are you sure she killed herself?” Alice asked, this time she received a scowl from Beatrice, but she ignored her.  “Catherine wrote to me not long ago and stated how happy she was. Did anything change between you two? Did you perhaps indulge in…  Did anything change?”

Beatrice drew herself up.  “Are you suggesting that Roger was unfaithful?”

“No, I am asking if anything changed between him and his wife. I am asking about family matters and the last time I checked, Miss Pollock, you weren’t family”.

Beatrice looked at Roger for support, but his head was sunk into his hands.  “My poor Catherine, what did I do to you? I know she wanted to start a family and I wasn’t keen but it wouldn’t have driven her to this, would it?”

“Of course not Roger”, Beatrice said kneeling down to him.  “Oh, look at you having to relive such an awful moment, you poor man. How about we put you to bed?”

“I bet you’d like that”, Alice whispered loud enough that Beatrice spun her head around.

“Do you have a place to stay, Miss Wells?” Beatrice said.

“No, but I know enough people around the village that I am sure I’ll find a bed–“

“Stay with me”.

“With you?”

“Yes. It would be an honour to have…such a stately woman at my home”.

Alice sipped her tea slowly. She had been caught unaware by the offer, by its intentions. Beatrice’s smile suggested she knew that too.

“Besides”, Beatrice said, “it’s not like you have many options. You’re well known to the village, but that’s not to your advantage. I can’t imagine many opening their doors given your reputation”.

“My sister is dead and you would drag up my reputation”.

“I’m simply stating facts”. Beatrice walked towards Alice and towered over her. “I have passed no judgement on you. You are no responsible for your husband’s actions–“

“That man is no longer my husband!”

“That’s not what everyone else thinks”.

“I know”, Alice said closing her eyes and trying to crush the cup. When she looked up Roger was looking at her. “My sister didn’t kill herself”.

“I wish I could believe you”, Roger said. “The village won’t stop talking about her like she is some terrible disease. I wish I could’ve saved her”.

“We can! We can save her! Maybe not in life, but by God we can save her in death. We can save her honour, Roger”.

“Either way, you’ll need a place to stay”, Beatrice said. “So, shall we?”

Alice drank the last puddle of tea in her cup put it on the table. She picked up her suitcase and looked at Beatrice. “Then let’s go”.

Alice and Beatrice were walking along the village towards Beatrice’s house when they were approached at pace by the stableman, Alan. As he closed in on them, he snatched his cap from his head and pressed it to his heart.

“Beatrice, I heard what happened to Mrs Dansby. It’s so terrible. Can you tell me how he is?”

“He’s in mourning”, Beatrice said. “Alan where were you for the funeral?”

“I was out of town, but I wanted to speak with Mr Dansby about something, though I don’t suppose now is a good time”.

“Maybe I can pass a message on for you?”

“Well, you see, it’s a bit strange”.

Alice and Beatrice looked at each other. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, apparently on the night he found his wife dying, Mr Dansby had a run in with a horse. I know this because he sent a message to the stables a few days before the funeral apparently, warning us that a horse had bolted and let me tell you the poor stableboy was in quite a muddle about it all, but something about the message was odd and after hearing it, I tend to agree with my lad”.

“How do you mean odd?” Alice asked.

“Mr Dansby said he saw a white horse”.

“And?”

“And I’ve never had any white horses in my stables”.

The tavern broke out into roaring laughter and cheers as Roger and Tom stumbled off the stage, bowing to the applause.  They reached their table and fell into their chairs as their friends slapped their backs.

“Which one of us sang worse?” Roger asked choking with laughter.

“Too bloody close to call”, Herbert said.

“That were a fine performance gentlemen”, said Beatrice the barmaid.  “Can I get you another pint of beer?”

“You can indeed!” Tom said.

“No, no, no”, Roger said,  “I should get home. I have to be up bloody early tomorrow. I have to go to Bristol”.

“Bristol!  What in the name of bloody Jules are you going to Bristol for?” Tom asked.

“Business, old boy, business and all that nonsense, but I will be back within a few days and we’ll have to do this again”.

Roger said his goodnights and left the table and then the tavern.  The fresh night air invigorated him and as he walked home he looked up at the stars. The town was quiet and it was these quiet nights that made him glad to be alive.  When I get home, Roger thought, I shall kiss that woman of mine and tell her how much I love her, and maybe I shall take her to Bristol like she asked.

He rounded the corner and saw his home and saw, standing before it, a horse.  Its magnificent white body shone like a pale opal in the otherwise dim street. It had neither saddle nor reins, so it was unlikely that someone would’ve ridden in on it. Rather it must have bolted from the local stables, and no doubt the stable master was out in the town this very night with a lantern looking for the escapee. In his youth, Roger had played Polo and this experience with horses gave him the confidence to approach the rogue steed. The stables weren’t far after all, so returning it wouldn’t be a problem.

The horse turned its head to Roger. He stopped his approach and smiled.  “There’s a good girl”, he said.  “Fancied a stroll around the town, did you? Well, we’ll have you home in no time”.

The horse snorted.

“Good girl”.

Then it charged at him.

The sight was both impressive and terrifying–this white organic train, powering towards him with both elegance and speed.  Roger staggered backwards and stumbled over a step. As he hit the ground he threw his hands over his head and tucked his knees into his stomach. His nerves failed him as the sound of the hooves became louder.

“No! Help me! Help me!”

He expected the blow to come at any moment. The hooves would crush down against him, likely killing him. He sensed it close and whined.

There was nothing. The hooves passed so close he felt the rush of air against his hands, but there was no impact.

He looked up trembling, and saw the horse vanish around a corner far down the street. No one had heard his cries; the town was still quiet except for the music coming out of the tavern. Roger got to his feet and dusted himself down. He continued towards his home, turning mid-stride to check the horse wasn’t behind him, but there was only an empty street.

As soon as he stepped into his home, Roger forgot all about the horse. He slid off his shoes and placed them under the table, and slipped on his slippers. He crept upstairs, trying not to wake his wife. When he reached the bedroom he pushed the door open and stood motionless.

Catherine was lay on her side, facing away, he could tell that from the curves under the sheets. Her large hips created a hill out of the blanket. He crawled onto the bed and placed his hand on her shoulder. He intended to ease her gently to her back and kiss her as she always liked. But when he did move her, her head flopped to the side so that she was now facing him and something trickled down the back of his hand.

He reached for the lamp on the bedside table and lit it. An orange glow cut through the dark and shone on the blood on his hand. He stared it at confused for a moment before looking up at Catherine.

She blinked and smiled wanly. She released the knife and her pale fingers crept to the edge of the bed, reaching for him.

“Catherine!” Roger said in a wisp.  He tried to move, but found himself transfixed by her bloodied throat. “Catherine, what have you done?”

He turned his head and saw, about thirty yards away, another night wanderer. “I’ve found her”, the old man called out. The night wanderer rushed towards him, navigating the hill’s sludgy curves. “Go find a doctor”.

But the other man was upon them now and he shone his torch over the young woman. “Dear God”.

“Get a doctor”, the old man waved his hand at the new arrival trying to break the spell the girl’s body had over him. “She needs a doctor. Go find a doctor”.

The night wanderer turned and ran away while screaming at the top of his lungs.  “He’s found her! She needs a doctor!”

His cries set the hills ablaze with the glow of two dozen swaying lanterns. The people who came stopped just behind the old man and looked at the girl, their faces a mix of sorrow and worry. Some turned and whispered lines that the old man couldn’t quite hear, but he was able to pick out a few words, one in particular: murder.

A woman pushed through the crowd and fell besides the young woman. She was wearing a dress most inappropriate for this type of marshy environment, but she cared not as she scooped the young woman up in her arms and patted her face.

“Rose! Rose can you hear me? Rose, please say something”.

The old man backed away from the mother and removed his cap from his head. He cast his gaze to his shoes and closed his eyes in silent prayer. The mother’s cries were excruciating to hear as slowly the truth that her daughter was dead dawned upon her. He looked down the hill and saw the women of the village climbing up to the crowd. A few of their men moved downwards to intercept them and turn them back and save their virgin eyes from this wicked sight.

The doctor arrived at last. He plucked Rose from her mother’s bosom and examined her. But there was no hope, and soon he released her back to her mother and stood beside the old man.

First, there is a short story called The Last Knock Before Midnight and then a serial called The Colony.

The Last Knock Before Midnight – Horror
Alice Wells is a woman not many people can stand to suffer. Fiery and argumentative, no one is surprised when she questions the doctor’s ruling that her sister committed suicide. Her quest leads her from a simple mission to save her sister’s honour into a battle to save the town, and the only person who believes her is a man who might not be all he claims to be.

This short story will have chapters published frequently. I’m hoping for one a week, but it might end up being one a fortnight.

The Colony – Sci-Fi/Mystery
Jack lands at Colony 6129 expecting things to be like they always have been: boring. There’s not much to do for a teenager on a science colony, but on 6129 Jack finds he’s not the only teenager and that this colony and its administrator are perhaps a little too secretive for a simple mining colony.

This serial will have episodes published intermittently. You might get five episodes a week or one episode a year (actually, I doubt it’ll be that extreme either way).

I hope they’ll be well received, but we’ll see I guess =)

Why am I writing two stories instead of one? I feel it gives me the chance to keep things fresh. The main story will be the Last Knock Before Midnight (LKBM from now on) and that’s the one I will strive to finish. The Colony is something that I think would be fun to write, but I’m not altogether sure where it’ll lead. I know there seems to be an influx of teenage stuff these days and I don’t want it to be Harry Potter in Space or even Twilight in Space. I’d like to make it a little different than that.

We also underwent some downtime as I had to change something with my hosting. All done and ready to post the content soon.

But what content? Good question.

I plan on writing a short story, broken up into parts, which I will post on this blog. It will be horror (I hope) but not grotesque. I have a title and am turning my notes into chapters. Look for the first episode very soon.