NaNoWriMo - Chapter 1, Untitled Black Comedy Supernatural Book

There’s something hypnotic about watching a body hanging from a tree. Horrifying, but hypnotic. Swaying. The rope creaking. A dark silhouette against the dawn sky. The tree, a hunched twisted Cornish coastal survivor, looks like it can barely take the weight.

I can hear gulls screeching.

This was the second time Edward Quintrell had been hung. This time I was going to burn the fucker as well. There’s only so much supernatural bullshit a man can take.

Behind me the cottage is still burning. Time to cut down the corpse and throw it on the bonfire.

As I cut the rope and the body crumples to the ground like a dropped towel I start laughing. I’m not sure if it is a healthy laugh or just hysteria. I do know this was not how my holiday was meant to go.

I have no intention of treating Quintrell’s body with respect so I drag it towards the burning building along the floor. I’ve got no one to help me carry him anyway. Everyone else is either dead or in hospital.

By the time I get him near enough to the fire I’m sweating from the struggle. I take Quintrell’s sword and hack his head off. When you’re dealing with the corpse of a man who was supposed to have died four hundred years ago there’s no point in taking any chances. I throw the head into the fire. Then I slam a stake into his heart. I don’t know if Quintrell is a vampire. But I’m not taking any chances.

Then I roll the rest of the body into the fire. I watch it start to burn.

This, I suppose, is what victory feels like.

As the corpse burns I suspect I’ll never enjoy a BBQ ever again.

I turn around at the sound of footsteps. The old man is standing behind me. The grey beard loon. Or what we had thought was a loon. He thrusts a flask at me.

“’ave some tea lad. You deserve it after that.”

I laugh and pour myself a cup.

“I’m never coming here on holiday again.” I say.

He laughs his gurgling laugh.

“I suppose I should call the police.”

“I suppose you should.”

“How do explain all this…” I say, sweeping my arm to take in the burning cottage, the wrecked car, the bodies. “You know, two weeks ago I’d never hurt a fly. Quintrell was the ninth person I’ve killed. If you count Quintrell.”

“Oh, I count Quintrell. Twice dead now. Maybe more.”

“Hopefully the last.”

“I think so. Hung, beheaded, staked and burned. If the bugger comes back after that he probably deserves it.”

I laugh.

“You look like shit.” The old man says to me.

“I’m sure I do. I need a shower.”

I look the old man up and down.

“What happens to you now?”

“Oh, I’ll wait. And watch. As I always have.”

I nod. And we both stand silently for a while.

I start walking down the hill. This isn’t the best place to make a call and the nearest village is a good few miles away. The old man has gone. I can sense others around me. Then there is a gust of cold wind and they’re gone.

It’s over.

NaNoWriMo - Chapter 1, Untitled Fantasy Novel

 CHAPTER ONE

He was lost. Somehow, he had got separated from the rest of the team. And now he was wandering a Welsh woodland totally lost. It was cold. It wasn’t winter cold, but it was still too cold to be lost in the woods.

He had tried turning around and just returning to where he’d last seen everyone else. That seemed to just make things worse. He found himself confused. He hated these team building sessions. If he wanted to bond with people, there were pubs for that. At least it wasn’t raining.

He didn’t have a compass because he was part of a group who were being led by someone who was supposed to be an expert in these events. That expert also had the map. He would have used his phone, but that wasn’t able to find a signal. At least not where he was now.

He just thought if he stuck to the path eventually either he’d hit the edge of the wood, a road, or some sign of civilisation. Like a proper mobile phone signal. The path was, finally, heading downhill though so that was a relief.

He had shouted a few times but got no response. He wondered, as he wandered, whether the rest of them were playing a trick on him. He was pretty convinced they weren’t. Especially as time ticked on.

As the path dipped deeper into what looked like a valley it seemed to get a little narrower. The wood around him seemed denser and darker. He really hoped that he wasn’t going to die in these woods, but that seemed needlessly dramatic. This was the hills of Wales not the Amazonian rain forest. He tried shouting again but the trees seemed to deaden all sound.

He could now hear the soft sounds of a river so he assumed he was getting close to the valley bottom, which would mean climbing the other side. He hoped – even assumed – it wasn’t too steep though.

After another ten minutes or so he could see the river and the overgrown wooden bridge that crossed it. He found the bridge reassuring. It meant people. Although the overgrowth was a little worrying.

Around the bridge on his side the wood seemed to have thinned out. A fallen tree looked ideally placed for him to sit, rest, and get his head together. He had his lunch, snacks, and a bottle of water in his rucksack so he might take a rest.

He sat down, dropped his rucksack in front on him and took a drink of water and then started chomping on a cereal bar. It was then he realised how quiet it had gone. A deep, disturbing silence seem to surround him. He suddenly felt like he was being watched.

He turned around.

There she stood. She was a tall attractive woman. Her hair was thick, black, and long. It seemed to run down to the floor and then away from her towards the river. She was pale and her eyes were black and deep. She was wearing a long dress. Or that’s what he thought it was, but it was twisted with greens and browns. It might have been made up of the woods themselves. The sleeves were long and flared. The dress touched the woodland floor so he couldn’t see her feet, but he felt she was bare foot. She wore a crown of flowers.

He stood up.

“Hi…er…I’m lost…”

“I know,” she said. Although he wasn’t sure she’d said it out loud.

“Oh. Well, I need to get back to Pont-y-Pont. Do you know which way I should be going?”

There was a long silence, which she seemed comfortable with, and he didn’t. It seemed to be a silence within an already uncomfortable larger silence.

“You don’t have to move,” she said “Your friends aren’t far away.”

“Oh…how do you know?”

“I know.”

“OK…has anyone every told you that you’re very…enigmatic?”

There was another long silence.

“Sit down.” She said.

He sat down. He was facing her.

“Do you know how far away they are?”

“About half a mile. They’ll be here soon.”

“OK.”

He had a feeling he was missing something. Something obvious.

“My name’s Will.” He said.

“I know.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes”

He felt a little sting at the back of his brain, like the beginning of a headache.

“What is it?”

There was a silence. Again.

“It doesn’t matter. Not yet.”

Silence.

“Your friends are almost here I must go.”

“OK.”

“If you like you can tell them you were led astray by a Goddess.”

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

“OK. I’m…”

Then she disappeared. Seeming to slide away into the river. Laughing. On the floor in front of him was her crown of flowers.

He picked it up and sat back on the log. He wondered if he’d banged his head somewhere. He certainly felt like he was in a daze.

He drank some more water. Five minutes or so later his team arrived, and they found him sat on a log, with a slightly confused expression on his face. He had a circle of flowers in his hand. When they arrived he looked up.

“Ah. There you are.” He said.

Their guide, Andy, said.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes. Yes. I’m fine. It’s just been an odd half-an-hour. How did you find me?”

“Oh,” said Andy, “Some weird, bearded bloke said if we were looking for Will we’d find him sitting by the bridge down there. And pointed us down a path.”

“Ah.”

“I think,” said Louise, one of our admin team, “that bloke might have been a bit pissed. Or stoned.”

“Perhaps he was a God,” said Will. “It’s been that kind of day.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Shall we go,” said Andy. “We need to start heading back to the hotel.”

There was general assent and the pack of them started heading off. Before they left Will carefully put the crown of flowers into his rucksack.

And that is how our story begins.