The Indie Collaboration Presents: Tales From Darker Places Read online

James trotted down the stairwell from the first floor flat he shared with his wife. He was fast approaching thirty-five and his waist was beginning to show its age. In a half-hearted attempt at staving off the spread, he had decided to use the stairs each morning instead of taking the lift. On this particular spring morning his new fitness regime nearly broke his neck.

  James turned a bend and almost tripped over a young boy sitting on the stairs. James had to virtually jump over the lad to avoid them both crashing down the rest of the stairwell. He managed to grab the rail with both his hands, where he hung, bent almost double, with his arse sticking out over the void.

  "Watch it there," James complained, "You're gonna get someone killed."

  The boy sat huddled on the step, face down, hidden by his blond hair. He looked about ten years of age.

  "Sorry Mister," He mumbled his voice heavy with crying. James sat down next to him on the step.

  "That's alright," he said more gently, "What's your name?"

  The boy looked up, quickly wiping away his tears.

  "Marley," He mumbled, sniffing.

  "Do you live here Marley?" James asked. The boy pointed upwards.

  "Flat 614."

  "What are you doing all the way down here?" he asked, surprised. The boy told him he was hiding but would not say why.

  "You wouldn't believe me anyway," the boy explained.

  "You'll be surprised what I'd believe Marley," James reassured him.

  Marley looked up sheepishly, and asked him if he believed in ghosts.

  "Actually I do," James quietly disclosed. He had never really spoken to anyone about this before, not too a living person anyway.

  "Really?" Marley said hopefully, "Have you seen one?"

  "Not exactly," He had to admit.

  "Oh," Marley said, disappointed, "How do you know then?"

  "Oh, I know!" James had a strong urge to defend his paranormal credentials, "I'm actually being haunted."

  "Really?" Marley said excitedly, "Me too, I see them all the time, they're everywhere. What does yours look like?"

  "I can't really see mine," James explained, feeling a little out of his depth now, "I've never really ever seen a ghost, not really." The boy looked disappointed. "She," James quickly added, "My ghost that is, she kind of steps inside people and controls them"

  "Oh," Marley exclaimed, relieved, "You have a Skinwalker."

  "Yes, I suppose that would describe it," James confirmed uncertainly, he was being distracted by movement down on the landing below them.

  "Don't worry," Marley said; “That's just my brother and sister playing. I have to watch them when we're not at home."

  They're very quiet," James observed, as he caught a brief glimpse of a young girl playing tag with a younger boy, about five years old. They both quickly disappeared out of sight again, "I hardly know they're there."

  They've always been quiet," Marley explained, "Do you want to hear about my ghost?"

  "Yes please," James confirmed as he focused back on the boy.

  "Mine's a Sham," Marley explained excitedly.

  "A Sham?" James asked.

  "Oh sorry," Marley apologized, "I've had to make up names for all the different types of ghosts I've seen."

  "There are different types?"

  "Oh yes," Marley explained, "At least five. There's your Skinwalker of course and then there's my Sham, they’re really nasty, they all are really, the ones that can actually hurt you."

  "They can hurt you?" James asked; shocked at how matter-of-fact the boy spoke about such things. If he didn't know better, he would have put it all down to an overactive imagination.

  "Oh sure, you must know that, with your Skinwalker."

  James had to admit that the boy had a point. His ghost would often argue and fight with him and on more than one occasion things had gotten out of hand. He subconsciously rubbed his forehead as he remembered the time when she threw a coffee mug at him.

  "Sure," he told the boy, "I know what you mean." Marley's brother and sister briefly came back into view as they quietly played on the landing.

  "Anyway," Marley continued, "There's also Poltergeists; I already knew the name for those, Shades and Quiet Ones."

  James quickly looked down at the children again but decided he was being paranoid. They were just kids. Quiet, but kids nevertheless. Besides, he normally couldn’t see ghosts. That appeared to be a skill only Marley seemed to have.

  "Poltergeists are nasty, they’re always angry and throw things around, Shades and Quiet Ones are OK though, they just mind their own business."

  "What's the difference?"

  "I'm not sure," Marley pondered, "Because they can't talk or do things to the living. I think some can think, so I've called them Shades. I don't think the Quiet Ones think at all. I think they just do what that did when they we're alive, automatically like, like robots."

  "Sounds like you've given it a lot of thought," James said, the boy's down-to-earth resilience was more than impressive. The Lad merely shrugged and continued his description.

  "They stopped being so scary when I got to understand them better," he explained, “Naming them helped me understand.”

  "Well you’re a brave lad if you ask me," James complemented, causing the boy to grin broadly. Poor kid he thought, despite what he's seen and been through, he's still only a child.

  “What about your parents?” James asked, “Do they know about the ghosts?”

  "Nah!" The boy replied, “My Mum and Dad don't believe in that sort of thing."

  "I know what you mean," James commiserated, "My Dad didn't either. He was a scientist through and through, a doctor actually."

  "Really!" Marley cried, impressed, "Are you a doctor too?"

  "No,” James answered laughing, "I'm an accountant. We Oswald’s haven’t followed in each other's footsteps for quite a few generations now. My grandfather was an actor apparently, when he wasn't a soldier."

  "Really!" Marley was so impressed that he almost exploded. James held out a placating hand.

  "Calm down Marley, it's not all that, I never even met him. He returned to the States before I was born, after he and my Father fell out about something."

  “Your Grandfather was an American?” Marley asked, was there was no end to how impressed this boy could be about normal mundane things. Maybe it was his way of staying grounded in the real world.

  “Yes Marley,” he laughed, “He met my mother over here during the war. He was stationed here at the time and stayed on to raise a family.”

  “But he fell out with your Daddy?” Marley concluded the story with a question.

  “I don’t really know why, my Father never really spoke about it,” James explained, “There was a dispute or something about an inheritance my Grandfather’s Father left.”

  “What was it?” Marley asked intrigued and excited, “Money?”

  “I don’t think so, just books, some papers and some stage plays.”

  “Plays?”

  “Maybe,” James said thoughtfully, trying to remember, “I’m sure my Father said something about my Great Grandfather owning a theatre or something.

  “Does your Father and Grandfather still not talk to each other?”

  “No,” James replied, “I’m afraid my Father died some years ago and his Father... Well if he were still alive I expect he would be in his 90’s. But my Father told me he died in the late sixties, again before I was born. As I said, Father didn't really talk about him much.”

  "Oh I see,” Marley said quietly, “Sorry Mister, I didn’t mean to ask so many questions.”

  “That’s OK Marley,” James reassured, “It all happened a long time ago.

  “Mind you,” Marley suddenly announced more brightly, "That sounds just the same as what happened to my Sham.”

  "You haven't really told me what one of those is or what it's been doing to you," James said reproachfully and the boy went on to explain that ‘Shams', as he called them
, are ghosts that can make the living aware of them by making them see what they want them to see.

  “Like an illusion?” James asked.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Marley confirmed. People, normal people that is, can’t usually see ghosts. I’m the only person I know who can. Even you can’t see them and you know all about them.”

  “I know,” James confirmed, “My ghost possesses other people, I see the other person and I talk to the ghost that’s inside them.”

  “That’s right, well Shams are another type of ghost who has learnt how to communicate with the living, but these ones make illusions.”

  “I see,” James said thoughtfully, “But why do they do this do you suppose?”

  “Why does your ghost haunt you?” Marley countered, giving James pause for thought. He really was a clever kid for his age.

  “Well she’s still angry at something I did to her when she was alive,” he admitted, quickly adding, “Grown up stuff Marley,” To counter any awkward questions.

  “Sham’s are the same,” Marley explained, “My one was using me to find his Father. Like your Grandfather, he fell out with his son when they were both alive."

  "I see," James said, feeling a little uneasy, "So you're saying that your Sham's son is dead as well." He looked down the stairwell again and saw Marley’s brother and sister silently staring up at him from the landing below.

  “Yes, he's just found out," Marley confirmed, "Now he wants to be with his Grandson instead."

  James was aware of Marley standing up beside him as he continued to stare into the boy's brother and sister's dark eyes.

  "I’m sorry mister,” Marley apologized. “He made me help him, he hurt me so bad.”

  "I don't understand," James said, looking up at Marley, who was backing up the stairs with a look of terror on his face.

  "Sorry Mister," he repeated as he turned and disappeared round the corner and out of sight.

  James looked back down the stairwell to where Marley had so fearfully gazed and looked into the cold eyes of a young soldier dressed in American army fatigues. A man, whose appearance was not at all dissimilar to his own. Marley's brother and sister were nowhere to be seen. “Of course” James thought, they hadn't really been there had they, what parent would let a child as young as Marley's brother play so far out of sight? He could hear Marley running up the stairs crying while the soldier below, now grinning, slowly began to climb the stairs.

  "Hello Grandfather," James managed to breathe as he stumbled to his feet. The soldier continued his slow assent as James too turned and fled in panic up the stairs.

  The End

  Copyright 2014 Chris Raven

  The Indie Collaboration

  & Darker Places Present:

  A.L. BUTCHER

  A. L. Butcher is the British author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles series and several short stories in the fantasy and fantasy romance genre. She is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet and a dreamer. When she is grounded in the real world she likes science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her work has been described as ‘dark and gritty’

  Jack Is My Name

  See my blade

  A gift for thee.

  Whore you are

  Thou shall by mine!

  Thy blood will be wine

  Thy life is my wish

  Thy body my immortality.

  I will be a god

  To destroy without mercy

  Thy terror shall be my ecstasy

  I shall live forever

  Jack is my name.

  ©2014 A.L. Butcher

  A Blade in the Night

  A Tale of Jack the Ripper