DARK COUNTY

  DARK COUNTY

  ten tales of rural terror

  BY KIT TINSLEY

  COPYRIGHT MATTERS

  COPYRIGHT 2013 Kit Tinsley

  Cover Photography: Brad Bourne @ something wicked productions

  Edited by Jacqueline DeBella

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  The author holds all rights to this work.

  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

  Beneath

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to

  Siobhan and Freddy

  My reasons for living

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  A Drive in the Country

  Hoodies

  House by the Marsh

  Fear and Loathing in Skeg Vegas

  Tracks

  The Crows

  Fear Thy Neighbour

  Coffin Hall

  What Grows in the Far Field

  A Campfire Tale

  Afterword

  About the Author

  INTRODUCTION

  I was born in the county of Shropshire, a place I still have a great affection for and honestly believe to be the most beautiful place in England, but I do not consider it my home. When I was seven years old, my father got a job that entailed us moving across the country to Lincolnshire. I went from one rural county to another, though they couldn’t be more different. Shropshire has massive hills that are, in fact, the tail end of some of the northern Welsh mountain ranges, and a lot of livestock. Lincolnshire on the other hand is, bar a few places, flat as a pancake, and is mainly used for the growing of crops.

  It is in Lincolnshire that I have grown up, stayed for all of these years, and more than likely will stay forever. I am comfortable here, I am happy to raise my son here. It is a pleasant county and truly breathtaking at times. The first thing my family noticed on moving here was how big the skies were. Back in Shropshire, the gargantuan hills eat into the sky like hungry green beasts. In Lincolnshire, there is very little to break up the sky from one horizon to the other. Certain places, like the marshes near Boston, are so vast and flat that you can actually see the curvature of the Earth with the naked eye.

  Why are you telling us this, Kit? What has this all got to do with horror stories? Well, I shall tell you. Despite its beauty, there is also an eerie bleakness to the landscape of Lincolnshire. In certain places, you feel utterly isolated and due to the vast skies and open, flat spaces, you also feel small and insignificant.

  There is a darkness within the county, a sense of the world passing it by. There are a large number of lovely people in the county, but there are also a lot of small-minded and prejudiced people. It is these contrasts in light and dark, in good and bad, that fascinate me. I can be driving past a farm and my mind wanders and automatically thinks of the worst-case scenario.

  That is what inspired this collection of stories, and my previous novel Beneath. You see, as much as I love this county and consider it my home, it also frightens me.

  The stories you are about to read are varied in their styles and subject matter. They are all horror, but some are psychological, some are visceral. Some are about supernatural evil, others about human evil. What links them all is this county. Each one of them is inspired by a specific place, or event, or image that I have encountered here, and the dark places my mind has taken me.

  At the end of the book, you will find an afterword where I will tell you a little more about the places and events that inspired each story. For now, though, sit back and relax, dim the lights and let me take you with me through the craven heart of this dark county. Let’s start by taking a pleasant drive in the country.....

  A DRIVE IN THE COUNTRY

  It was supposed to have been a pleasant, relaxing, Sunday afternoon drive in the country. That’s what Mark had promised her, but Kelly now felt more stressed than she had before. Mark had decided to take them well off the beaten track, into the wilds of the marshlands.

  ‘It’ll be fun,’ he had said as he’d pulled off the A16 onto the first of many narrow, winding lanes. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’

  They had eventually come to a dead end in the road. A little, cracked concrete car park lay on the left hand side. Mark had pulled the car over and stopped the engine.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she’d asked.

  ‘Come on, let’s go for a walk,’ he had said, undoing his seatbelt.

  ‘Where?’ She replied with a question. She looked around and saw nothing but miles of flat, bleak farmland.

  Mark pointed to the grassy bank at the end of the road.

  ‘Over there are the marshes themselves. Let’s go and have a look.’

  Kelly sighed and undid her seat belt, then reluctantly got out of the car. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a reasonably strong wind blowing and with nothing to dampen its force for miles around, it had a chill to it.

  ‘Christ, it’s cold,’ Kelly said, hugging herself.

  Mark stood straight with his hands resting on his hips, his back arched as he took in a long, deep breath.

  ‘I think they call it bracing,’ he said as he exhaled. ‘The smell of the country.’

  Yes, Kelly had noticed that, too. She had often heard people talk about the wonderful country air, all she could smell was a combination of seawater and shit. She reached into the back seat of the car and picked up her jacket. Slipping it on she felt a little warmer, but it was only a lightweight leather thing designed more for fashion than for protection from the elements. It would not really do that much to keep her warm, but it made her feel a little better.

  ‘Come on, then,’ Mark said, taking her hand in his and leading her towards the bank.

  As they stepped off the hard concrete of the road, and onto the grassy bank, Kelly felt the ground beneath giving a little too much. She looked down and saw that the thick, black, squelching mud was halfway up her shoes. Thank God she had not worn the sandals she had planned to wear.

  At the top of the bank they could see the expanses of marsh spreading out before them. It was a mix of long grass, mud and seawater filling up gaping channels. When the tide was in much of what they saw would be underwater. Kelly wondered how often people got stranded out here, marooned on one of those little islands until the tide retreated, or worse, they drowned in the salty brine. The thought made her shiver.

  ‘See, isn’t that impressive?’ Mark asked. Kelly could tell that he was desperate for her approval, to see that she was having a good time. She wanted to scream at him that it wasn’t impressive, that all she could see was miles and miles of absolutely fuck all, but she didn’t. She knew that Mark was trying really hard, he wanted to make things right between them, wanted things to be the way they were before, but he couldn’t. No one could. If either of them had caused their problems then maybe it would be different. If Mark had cheated on her, for example, perhaps she could have forgiven him and they could move on, but how do you move on when you miscarry, it was no one’s fault. She could not blame Mark, so she could not forgive him.

  ‘Yes, it’s impressive,’ she said half smiling, trying to reward the effort he was making as much as she could.

  ‘Do you want to walk out there?’ he asked motioning towards the expanse.

  ‘No, it might be dangerous,’ she said. ‘Let’s just walk along the bank a little way.’

  Mark looked disappointed at first, then his eyes softened, he could see that she was trying, too. He’d always been able to read her so well. He knew that she didn’t want to be walking out here at all, but the fact that she agreed to walk along the bank showed that she cared enough to compromise.

  They headed east along the bank holding hands in silence. The place wa
s so isolated, Kelly could see that other people came up here, she could tell from the sheer amount of dog crap she had to avoid, but right now they were the only people in sight for miles.

  As they walked, the car became a dot in the distance, sat there all alone in the car park. Kelly began to feel better; perhaps Mark had been right all along, the walk seemed to be clearing her head. For weeks now, she had felt so alone, even in crowded rooms. Now out here where she was physically isolated form everyone but Mark, a strange peace began to come over her. She grasped his hand a little tighter and rested her head on his arm as they walked.

  Suddenly Mark stopped dead in his tracks.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ he said.

  At first she could not tell what he was looking at, there was so much nothing that it detracted from what was there. Then she saw it—a full, black refuse sack, sitting in the undergrowth at the bottom of the bank, with what appeared to be blonde hair poking out where it was tied.

  ‘Oh my God, do you think it’s...’ She couldn’t finish the sentence, she could not say the words a body, ridiculous to even think that, it was just some fibre glass insulation or something. Someone had been doing some DIY and rather than take it to the tip they had dumped it out here, inconsiderate yes, but nothing more sinister. Then she noticed the red splatter all over it. Paint. She tried to tell herself that it was just paint, but she knew well enough what blood looked like, she had seen plenty in her career as a nurse, and there had been so much when she miscarried.

  ‘I’d better take a look,’ Mark said, letting go of her hand.

  ‘Perhaps we should call the police?’ she said.

  ‘Not if it’s just some bag of rubbish, we’d be wasting their time. You wait here. I'll go and check it out.’

  With that, he was heading down the bank. Kelly stood on the top, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. She could see that there was no one else around, yet she couldn’t help feeling as though she were being watched. She hugged herself again; the wind felt colder all of a sudden.

  Mark reached the bottom of the bank and stood over the bag, his face contorted in a grimace. She knew the look well. It was the one he made whenever he smelled something bad. He looked around on the ground, obviously he didn’t want to use his hands to open the bag. Eventually he found a piece of wood; he used it to carefully tear open the bag.

  He recoiled in horror as the young woman’s head rolled out of the bag and fell to his feet. Kelly screamed, a sound that seemed to echo forever in that wide-open nothingness. Mark left the piece of wood on the ground and ran up the bank to her. He wrapped his arms around her and turned her away from the sight of the head.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he cooed gently, though she could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

  ‘All right?’ she sobbed. ‘It’s a human fucking head!’

  ‘Not just a head,’ he said. ‘There were all sorts of bits of cut up body in the bag.’

  Kelly pulled away from him and doubled over. She heaved once and the vomit poured from her mouth. Mark rubbed her back with one hand whilst holding her hair back with the other. It was not the site of the viscera that made her sick; after all, she had seen plenty of that in her life. It was the shock of seeing something so horrific so unexpectedly. It was also the knowledge that someone had done something so brutal and horrendous.

  ‘Do you have your phone?’ he said. ‘I left mine on charge at home.’

  Without standing up, Kelly rummaged in her jacket pocket. She found the phone and passed it to her husband before another wave of sick erupted from her mouth.

  ‘No signal,’ he said.

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We get back to the car, keep trying the phone. When we have a signal we’ll stop and call the police.’

  ‘What if we don’t get a signal? We’re out in the arse end of nowhere!’ she said.

  ‘Then we drive till we find a police station. We’re not far from a town. Maybe six miles that way,’ he pointed past where the car was parked.

  They hurried back to where the car was parked, on that little patch of concrete. All the way there, Kelly kept the phone in her hand, constantly checking for the signal symbol to appear. Even if there were no bars, if that little symbol appeared she would be able to call the emergency services. It did not appear.

  They jumped into the car. Mark pulled away before she had even fastened her seat belt. He drove far too fast. It was unlike him; he was usually such a cautious driver. She would often tease him about driving like an old woman, but now it was like he was rally driving.

  Still her phone was useless, the signal symbol refusing to make an appearance. Mark swung the car around a hairpin bend; she heard the tyres screeching as they tried desperately to keep contact with the road and felt gravity throw her against her window, bumping her head.

  ‘Slow down!’

  Mark looked at her.

  ‘I just want to get as far away from there as I can,’ he said, his gaze never leaving her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark shape appear on the road.

  ‘Look out!’ she yelled, but it was too late.

  The impact was deafening, the crunch of metal and the smash of glass. The windscreen shattered as the object bounced off the bonnet then rolled onto the roof. The brakes screamed as Mark brought the car to a sudden halt.

  ‘Was that a person?’ she asked, not wanting to look back.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mark said. ‘Wait here while I check.’

  He undid his seatbelt and opened the car door.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ she said. ‘I am a nurse, after all.’

  Together they walked slowly back to the spot where the thing that they had hit lay slumped on the road. As they got closer Kelly could see, to her horror, that it was wearing clothes, and hence a human being. There was a small amount of blood sprayed around the body. It was face down on the ground, she could not tell if it was a man or woman, the hair was fairly long, but greasy and matted.

  ‘Are they alive?’ Mark asked. ‘Please, God, let them be alive.’

  Kelly took hold of the person’s wrist and could feel a fairly strong pulse. She was relieved enough to let out a loud sigh.

  ‘There’s a pulse,’ she said.

  ‘Thank Christ.’

  The wrist that she was holding was suddenly tugged out of her grasp. The person was moving; they rolled over and looked around. Kelly could see that it was a young man, probably no more than twenty, though determining his exact age was impossible. His face was a road map of scar tissue. One ear was almost completely missing, just a few bits of tattered flesh protruding. Also one cheekbone seemed much larger than the other, as thought it had been shattered at some point and then left to heal wrong. The nose was flat and crooked; it had obviously been broken numerous times in the past and judging from the blood running freely, was broken again. Several teeth were missing. There were a few fresh cuts, yet most of the wounds seemed old and badly healed.

  ‘Sorry,’ the young man said. ‘I weren’t looking where I were going.’

  His accent was thick Lincolnshire, and he sounded a little slow.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Kelly said. ‘Just try not to move, we’ll call you an ambulance.’

  She threw her phone to Mark.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Peter,’ The young man replied. ‘But most people just call me Smash.’

  ‘Okay, Smash,’ It felt wrong calling him that, considering the state his body was in from wounds old and new, she guessed this was the reason for the nickname.

  ‘Still no signal,’ Mark said.

  ‘How old are you, Smash?’ Kelly asked to check to see if he was in any state of confusion.

  ‘Sixteen, Miss,’ the boy replied.

  ‘Do you think you can walk?’ Kelly asked.

  The boy nodded and started to rise to his feet. Kelly put her arm around him for support. When he was upright, she could see that his legs could take his weight, suggestin
g that neither they nor his hips were broken. They started slowly moving to the car. The boy was limping, but it didn’t seem to be causing him any pain. This made her think that the limp had been there already, a result of the previous accident that had left him so mangled.

  ‘Get him in the back seat,’ Mark said, opening the door. ‘We’ll take him to the hospital. We can call the police from there about the body in the bag.’

  The boy stood up straight, stopping in dead.

  ‘No, I’m not going to the hospital,’ he said emphatically.

  ‘You’ve just been hit by a car at pretty high speed,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Just a few bumps and bruises,’ the boy said, shrugging it off.

  ‘You could have internal bleeding. A doctor really should take a look at you,’ Kelly persisted.

  ‘No fucking hospital!’ the boy shouted furiously. Kelly was taken aback by the sudden rage. Mark took a step closer, to intervene if need be. The boy, however, instantly calmed down.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘I just don’t like hospitals. I’m fine, really, if you could just give me a lift home.’

  ‘We really need to speak to the police,’ Mark said.

  ‘I only live up the road,’ the boy said. ‘You can use our phone.’

  Mark looked annoyed; he was obviously eager to get away from there, but Kelly nodded. It would be the quickest way to get hold of the police. Mark sighed.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Get in.’

  Kelly helped the boy lower himself onto the back seat, she was about to get in there with him so that she could keep an eye on him for signs of injury, but Mark gently pulled on her arm and nodded towards the front passenger seat. Typical Mark, he was overcautious, he never trusted anyone, but considering what they had been through already today she nodded acceptance and got into the front of the car.