A Cry From Beyond (37 page)

Jenny
moved on, just as Madam Lee prophesised, securing a teaching job up
north where she started a new life. The last time I saw her was at
David’s funeral. We didn’t speak. We didn’t even acknowledge each
other. Feelings ran too deep, anger on her part, guilt on
mine.

I’ve
never been back to High Bank. I understand the cottage was put up
for sale, following repairs to the cellar. Two years on it remains
on the market at a drastically reduced price. In my view, the place
should’ve been razed to the ground. Maybe I’ll pay a visit one of
these fine days to carry out the deed personally. Then again, that
kind of talk might simply be the rants of a man who has lost the
plot a little.

Michelle,
loyal soul that she is, stands by me to this day, although we could
hardly be called an item. What happened at High Bank gets in the
way of that and possibly always will. We communicate regularly by
phone and by e-mail, but we see each other rarely. She doesn’t
really understand and probably never will. And who can blame her.
Believing what happened during my brief stay at High Bank is a
pretty tough call.

Remember
Pixie and her off the wall comments about the lake and my father
knowing something or other? Well, it turned out she was right on
the money with that little number. Seemed my father committed his
final murderous deed just before doing his vanishing act. Another
young woman disappeared in the vicinity of Ashley around the time
he did. Evidence suggests that having transported her, or rather
her body, to the lake by car: a red Ford Orion, he then dumped the
car in the lake so as to cover his tracks, (the car was discovered
after the lake was dragged, following an “anonymous” tip off). His
next stop was the notorious folly. From here he was able to deliver
what was to be his final victim into the subterranean tunnel, home
to his previous victims, and where I later confronted his demonic
counterpart.

It’s
anyone’s guess what happened next: my hunch is that having made it
as far as the tunnel, he either died as a result of ill health, or
he committed suicide. That’s when the spooky stuff probably kicked
in, producing a malevolent entity possessing traits belonging to
both he and Grimshaw; two individual’s evil in equal
measure.

The demon
borne of their terrible acts might have festered there for all
eternity, was it not for Melinda and Kayla’s determined efforts to
draw me, their hero to be, back, in order to save the day. There
was a cost involved however, namely Terry, Dave, Des and all the
others who lost their lives there that winter.

I think
I’ve said enough: more than enough. Besides, I’m in dire need of a
drink, the non alcoholic variety, and Lennon requires his daily
exercise. Before I close however, there’s just enough ink left in
the pen so to speak, to tell you that I’m about to release a brand
new album, its theme being the time honoured one of lost
opportunities and lost loves. Mike reckons it will do well
commercially and described it rather aptly as a haunting piece of
work, which I guess is testament to its title, “A Cry From
Beyond”.

THE END

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR.

Dear
Reader,

I’d just like to thank you for taking the time and trouble to
read my novel,
A CRY FROM
BEYOND
. I only hope you enjoyed reading it
as much as I enjoyed writing it. Why not let me know either way by
using the “review” facility on the Smashwords book store. If you
did enjoy
A CRY FROM
BEYOND
, why not check out my other novels
at Smashwords entitled,
HELL PIT
and
BARK AT THE
MOON
, and there’s also my free short
story,
THE UNINVITED
, taken from my paperback collection of short stories
entitled,
THE LITTLE BOOK OF DARK
TALES
signed copies of which can be
purchased from my website at
www.wrarmstrong.com

Thanks
once again,

W. R.
Armstrong.