Faked Tales

Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Days 9-11 can be read here.

Days 12-14 can be read here.

Days 15-19 can be read here.

Days 20-23 can be read here.

Day 24 can be read here.

Day Twenty-Five

Maybe I just live here now. Maybe I’m going to where the postman went, and the woman who tried to warn me.

My sleep in the post van was rough, trying to make any space for myself among undelivered packages and letters. Any peace I had didn’t last long, though.

There was a thud, and a feeling of momentum as the van was moving backwards. Something was dragging it. I tried to look through the back door and saw only the storm. It was best not to try opening it and facing whatever was taking me back up the hill. Instead I got back into the front in time to see the cabin passing by. The door open, the windows smashed. The elements were claiming it once more. Maybe that’s what happened last time, why there was only a basement left from its old incarnation.

The ground was rougher and trees battered the van. I reached the front door and opened it, only for it to slam in my face. I hammered on the windows, tried to break them and get out. Nothing. The woods, the fields, they all went past, all wilder and stranger than during any of my visits.

The spirit with the stone skull was following the van like it was part of a procession. It was watching me and what I was doing. I remembered the clearing I took the skull from. I was an interloper, I took their possession, I walked their land.

And I knew what was next.

The van fell down the slope with ease. It had been let go and gravity was taking over. The lake was next. I tried the door again. If the spirits had released the van, maybe I could escape. The steep hill’s momentum meant I only had seconds. I opened the door and fell out, battered by it on my way down.

I felt my ankle snap as I rolled over, falling into the lake. I kept low, clawing my way out of it and trying to be unseen by the spirits. They watched the van sinking, but any misstep and they would have seen me. Further along the lake path was the cave. Far enough that I could risk getting to it without being noticed. Drenched and injured, I ran to the cave, stifling any screams as I went.

I need medical attention, I’m no doctor and I’m sure I’ve messed up trying to splint my ankle. I’m cold and the snow doesn’t so any sign of stopping. If it does, I’ll make a break for it. If not, do not go into the woods and if you must, don’t take anything. The things in the woods are vengeful and won’t be reasoned with. 

I love you Casey, Sam, Lou. I hope I get out of here, and that this letter isn’t my epitaph. If you are given this letter by someone else, do not come here, looking for me. 

Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.

Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Days 9-11 can be read here.

Days 12-14 can be read here.

Days 15-19 can be read here.

Days 20-23 can be read here.

Day Twenty-Four 

I slept in the cellar, deciding it was safer as the things outside wouldn’t see me. A fine start to Christmas Eve, right?

I was pretty quick at grabbing some food from the kitchen and kicking the bed’s mattress down the stairs, along with some covers. The central heating didn’t reach the cellar, but there was a little electric heater and several extension leads which would do.

I slept surprisingly well, despite the cold of the cellar. I’d not explored it after the first time I came down. The cabin had apparently seen some major repairs over the years, but this part of it mustn’t have been as much of a priority.

Morning came and with it the terrible choice of whether to stay in the cellar or to move upstairs. Maybe I could get the car going, or even make it down to the village. Hunger, boredom and a need to pee took over, so I crept back up the stairs.

The door to the cabin was open, letting flurries of snow through into the hallway, soaking the welcome mat and the rug by the entrance. I closed the door, feeling the freezing water through my socks. Armed with a torch from the cellar I walked through the cabin, making sure there weren’t any intruders. Postmen, four-eyed creatures or even wild animals.

I was alone. A relief, but there was something out of place, a feeling that it wasn’t as good a sign as I’d hoped. Surely animals would have come inside, stolen food, started making hiding places. I listened for mice, rats, anything small that might have hidden from my stomping around. Nothing, just the wind. 

The needs were dealt with, I used the loo, changed my clothes, grabbed some toast from the freezer and put it in the toaster set to ‘defrost’. Then I realised there was an absence in the room.

The stone skull was missing. I ran back to the cellar to make sure I hadn’t taken it downstairs. It had been my only real company for most of the holiday. It wasn’t in the basement, under the table or even the place I’d hidden it at the back of the cabin when the woman seemed freaked out by it. Nothing, no sign of it, no scratches, no sign it had ever been there.

I peered beyond the curtains to see what was outside. Just snow and nothing else. I couldn’t even see my car. Had those fucks taken my car? Incensed by this, I put my boots on and ran outside. The car was gone, the drive was gone. I barely recognised where I was. The woods had grown closer, the snow thicker than it was before.

A noise came from the trees, a crunching. They began to shake. Literally shaking trees, I’d not seen anything like it. They parted and those spirits were there, pushing them aside. Beings of living snow, with four ice-white eyes the closest to anything physical about them, at least until now.

One of them had a skull made of stone, the sockets fit the ice-white eyes perfectly. I dropped the torch I’d been wielding as a weapon and fled. If they’d got rid of my car, maybe the postman’s van would still be there.

It was, but had been buried in hedges grown too large and wild from how they had looked a few days ago. The spirits were slow to move and looking at the cabin, so I had a little time. The van’s door was open, so I got inside, closed it and checked for keys. Nothing, but at least it was shelter. It would have to serve as a place to hide, as the spirits seemed to ignore it so far.

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Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.

Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Days 9-11 can be read here.

Days 12-14 can be read here.

Days 15-19 can be read here.

Day Twenty

I tried to head down to the village today, to try and stock up. I’d decorated the cabin as best I could, but I thought maybe something more Christmassy would help make it homely. 

When I left, the snow was barely falling. I’d still dressed warm, just in case. The road was barely visible. I stuck to the hedges on the way down, figuring the grassy verge would be nearby. It was almost the winter solstice, so I’d have little daylight, I needed to be fast.

The village felt far away, the roads stretching on for longer than they were supposed to. When I reached it, nothing was open. The village shop, the pub, the café, nothing. Most of the lights were off. A ghost town. I did what any English person would do in the situation, I tutted and rolled my eyes. Then I set off back to the cabin.

The sun went down on the walk back, way too quickly. I’d hoped I would have more time, but apparently not. At least the night sky was clear, and the moon was full enough to help light the way. 

The stars felt like they were more prominent, more visible. I tried to make out constellations and cursed not knowing more than the dippers and Orion’s Belt.

I lost track of where I was walking and slipped, having to steady myself on a hedge. Prickly, but fine. I stopped to catch my breath and looked up at the sky again.

The stars moved. Just two, but it looked like they were moving around each other, getting larger and larger. I couldn’t move, grasping tightly onto the hedge so I didn’t fall over watching them. A pair of moons, orbiting each other.

Going to eat each other.

I remembered that from somewhere.

My vision was engulfed in light.

Day Twenty-One

I didn’t expect to see the postman this close to Christmas, this far out. The letterbox made a loud metal crash and a couple of cards fell through. Sam and Lou signed one, and the kids sent another. I put them up on the fireplace. A nice touch of home.

There was a noise from outside and the power went off. The generator again. I wrapped up warm and went outside. It was early and mostly dark still, but I’d got used to it breaking periodically and reached the point where I could change it in my sleep.

This time it looked like something had been broken off. In it. I managed to get it running, but didn’t like how it sounded. Stretching my legs, I walked out into the road, watching the sun rise. Something was off. Down the hill, the postman’s van was there, looking like it had taken a bit of a skid on the icy road and ended up face-first in one of the hedges. I took off, trying to see if they needed help. 

The van was empty, the door open. I looked around to see if there were any footprints. Nothing. I looked at the other side of the hedge from the van and the snow in the field was undisturbed. Back up the road past the cabin the road ended and went towards the woods. I thought I’d have a quick look that way. Not much of one, I’d left the door open and didn’t want the cabin to get cold.

Running into the woods, I tripped over a stray branch and managed to stop myself from going face-first onto the path, putting my arms up and hitting them instead. I looked at the branch I’d tripped on, long, thin and tied to the opposite tree. I pulled out the kitchen knife I’d kept in my coat pocket and hacked it loose. I didn’t want to forget and trip over again.

I went back into the cabin and closed the door. It wasn’t warm yet. I decided to stay with the stone skull by the window, just in case I saw a postman out in the snow.

Day Twenty-Two

The eyes were back, the ones I saw in my dreams. They were outside the cabin in the snow and the darkness. I’d fallen asleep at the table and woke around three or four. 

It was difficult to make out what they were attached to, it looked like the snow was moving, taking a form that was almost human. Each one had a set of four eyes, unblinking, burning with white fire.

I’d been face-down on the table, I didn’t want them to notice I was awake, to notice me at all. I slowly reached towards the curtains. I’d not closed them in case I saw the postman again. In case he needed help. Now I wanted nothing more than to seal off the sight of those things. Even if they saw it, I could retreat further back into the cabin, maybe get a knife just in case… in case what? Would I be able to do anything against these creatures of living snow?

In one swift move I grabbed both sets of curtains and yanked them closed. Even through the fabric I could tell they were looking in my direction. The wind howled and I kicked myself away from the chair, grabbing the stone skull and a knife from under the sofa. I ran to the bedroom and turned the lights off, waiting, listening to the howling of the wind.

Day Twenty-Three

Sod it, I’d decided. Whether the eyes in the night had been imagined or not, I was done with the cabin. The snow was going to make it difficult, I’d kind of hoped that by waiting then the snow would have calmed down or gone to rain or something. I hadn’t expected it to be as heavy as it’d been for the last few weeks. 

I’d set my mind on leaving, so I grabbed a shovel, wrapped up warm and started trying to dig the car out. Hopefully the battery was okay. I had some anti-freeze in the boot, bought by Casey in a rare moment of organisation. 

The car was uncovered and I needed to clear a route out to the road. I put the shovel down and paced along the road to eye up the challenge ahead. The postman’s van was still in the road. It’d take some effort to navigate past it, but I didn’t care.

I turned back and saw my shovel swinging towards my face. I tried blocking it and felt something in my hand crack against it. The person was between me and the cabin. I ran towards the woods, figuring I could lose them, circle back and get in the car or the cabin. If the car worked then fuck it, I’d get out. It’d be a risk and I’d leave all my shit behind, but fuck it. If I took the cabin, I’d be safer, have supplies and a weapon.

I ran through the trees, looking at the path ahead in case any more traps had been laid for me. A branch caught me in the face and I recoiled. Having stopped, I quickly looked off to my sides, looking for a good way to run down and circle back.

The footfalls sounded like a person, not some snow-thing. They still had my shovel and looked dishevelled. I kept an eye on where I was going through the rough terrain, pushing through thick hedges and falling into a small opening. It was the little nook I’d found early in my stay. From there I ran back to the car, thought for a second and went back into the cabin instead. I grabbed a knife and waited by the door, just in case.

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Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.

Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Days 9-11 can be read here.

Days 12-14 can be read here.

Day Fifteen

I woke up, still dressed in case the police would call. It was nine and there’d been nothing. There couldn’t have been much to delay them, there weren’t any messages on my phone which I’d left by the window in case there was better reception there.

I opened the curtains and through the snow I could tell the body was gone. I put the kettle on and went outside, looking for any signs the police had been by to collect it.

There weren’t any tracks in the road, the gritting had worn off on the roads, covering it in snow. Maybe the police had arrived in the middle of the night and didn’t want to disturb me. I checked the front door in case anything had been stuck to it by them, then the letterbox. Nothing. 

The bench felt oddly empty without the body there. I sat there for a moment, not really dressed in clothes that should be snowed on for long. When I put my hand on the bench to get up, I felt a deep cut in the wood. It was a letter. I brushed the snow off it and saw words cut into the bench “WITH US NOW”.

Day Sixteen

I’ve been trying to keep calm. The police drove by yesterday afternoon and asked questions about the body. I told them what happened and they seemed dubious. They didn’t even check out the bench where the body was found. 

I’d seen a death and some grisly animal corpses. While the dead person was someone I’d felt threatened by, I decided I needed to stock up and go a bit survivalist. I’d probably have felt safer if Casey was still around. I’d have been talked out of acting a bit crazy. I made sure I knew where the food was and stashed some of the knives from the kitchen in places around the lounge. I brought the skull back out from its hiding place, put it on the table and told it to keep an eye out for anything weird.

When you’re stuck in a cabin alone with no telly, almost no reception and a bunch of shit books, the boredom can get a bit much. I decided I’d have a bit of a walk to get my head straight. It’s not like there was a murderer, just the cold. 

I dressed up warm with a couple of jumpers, a thick coat and my best walking boots. The previous day’s snow was high enough I’d have to wade through it, especially with the snowfall adding to it. Still, it’d help keep my mind off of the strange goings on. I walked out and realised I wouldn’t be able to see any dead animals even if there were any. Hopefully I wouldn’t tread in one.

The clearing was tempting to go into, but a bit too hidden away. I walked across the field and down to the lake. I figured if the weather got worse, there was the cave. Making my way down the slope was trickier than I thought, I slipped and skidded onto what I thought was the path.

When I got up, I realised I’d gone too far, off the path and onto the lake. I could hear the cracking underfoot. I’m not a big guy, but that didn’t matter, the ice wasn’t that thick. Looking at it, there were lines moving quicker than I could comprehend. I dived for the ground which was a worse idea, my left foot went through the ice and shattered. I went into the water, grasping for anything I could gain purchase on.

It’s the shock, I remembered people saying. A drop into a cold lake. I grabbed for some reeds and tried to control my breathing. If I got out, running would hopefully keep me warm enough until I reached the cabin.

I must have done it. I don’t remember how I got back to the cabin. It felt like everything went black, the air was taken out of my lungs, replaced with ice. When I came to, I was at the front door, curled up. The snow was still raging around me, I moved my fingers, hearing the crack of ice covering the gloves. I opened the door, ran inside and turned the heater on. I made sure not to dive into a hot bath for a little bit, but it was too tempting.

Day Seventeen

I’m falling in the ice again, and there are eyes on me. Watching me. 

The dark of the lake goes deeper than I expected and I’m pulled further, further down. I don’t know if it’s warmer than I thought or my body’s acclimatised to it. Either way, I don’t feel the cold anymore.

The light through the ice was getting further and further away. I saw forms walking on it and I knew they were watching me. Their eyes were as bright and cold as the lake’s ice. 

I stopped falling when I hit a wooden floor. It was the cabin. I woke up, having tumbled out of bed and missed the rug. I was still freezing cold, even after the hot bath and wrapping myself in as many clothes as I could when I went to bed.

Day Eighteen

Sam called in a brief moment of reception. It was difficult to hear her sometimes. I pretty much pressed myself up against the window. The cold of it didn’t feel too bad, not after my fall in the lake. 

She wanted to see how I was, given everything. I didn’t mention most of what I’d experienced. I told her the lake was nice, but I’d taken a tumble into it. She offered to send up more clothes and blankets as she might be able to get it here before Christmas. I said I was fine, I’d picked up some bits from the village shop and there was a washing machine so I was able to get everything less muddy and cold. 

Before she cut out, Sam said that Lou passed on her love and had seen Casey. Apparently they were down with a cold, but otherwise there wasn’t much to report. I was pleased they weren’t immediately involved with someone else. I guess they just didn’t like me for me. I imagined them alone in their flat while I was alone here. Was it better this way? I didn’t know, but it was nice to hear from someone back home, even if they were fuzzy and barely able to be heard. The skull-stone was far less of a conversationalist. 

Day Nineteen

The snow had stopped after several days. It took a little time to open the door, even with the overhang shielding it from most of the snow. I decided to have breakfast first to fortify myself before going on a walk. I wasn’t going to be ambitious this time, especially with the thick snow underfoot.

The woods were easier to travel than trying to walk waist-deep across the field to the lake. I also had a bit of a grudge with it from the tumble I took. The ground was free from the worst of it, but the natural paths had changed. I wasn’t as sure of where I was going at first, but it didn’t really matter. I had enough of my bearings to know where the cabin was, as long as I went back that way then I’d be fine when I was done with my walk.

I found the dew pond, but it was nowhere near where I thought it was. It was frozen over, like a tiny version of the lake. Even with the grey sky, the opening in the trees felt like a spotlight on the centre. There was something on the lake, the light bouncing off it. I walked closer and saw what it was. A deer, made out of ice. Someone must have carved it and brought it there. I was surprised it didn’t put too much pressure on the dew pond. Maybe it was frozen solid.

I looked around and was alone. Whoever left it there would have left a while ago, given how quiet and untouched the woods seemed. Getting closer, I could see its eyes. Four of them, all carved beautifully. For a second, I thought one set of them blinked. It couldn’t have, though. Not really.

When I left, I kept an eye on the deer, just in case it moved again.

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Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.

Days 0-2 can be read here.

Days 3-5 can be read here.

Days 6-8 can be read here.

Days 9-11 can be read here.

Day Twelve

I finally did it! I made it out of the cabin with no distractions, no neighbours being weird, no animals, no blizzard. I mean, it was snowing, but a manageable amount. I wore a thick jacket, wellies, my biggest backpack and walked out like I was on an Arctic expedition. 

The road looked like it would have been easier to walk down, but the snow on the gritted tarmac had gone to slush, making for a few skids. All very dignified. It took about an hour to get down the 20 minute walk to Mistbirch, I was starving by the time I reached the outskirts, but it was so good to see people walking their dogs on the green and coming out of the village shop.

I laughed off people asking what I was doing out in the snow and walking down the hill instead of driving. I explained that I didn’t want to use the car in this weather, I’d been in a crash once before because of the weather and preferred the longer walk. 

The village cafe was open with no customers. I went in and could see the disappointment that they were just about to shut up shop. I had a nice hot chocolate and a thick sandwich, but I did my best not to take too long there. I didn’t want to delay the waitress getting home, especially if the weather was going to be bad.

The shop was small and I kept banging into things. I took my backpack off and bought a bunch of supplies, having forgotten about my list and just filling up the bag with all sorts. They took cards, luckily, although it took ages for it to go through with the reception. I thanked them and they told me that they would be closed from the 18th. Hopefully I wouldn’t need much more than I was getting. Milk, maybe. I didn’t bother asking about a milkman, I guessed they wouldn’t make it up the hill on a float.

Feeling a lot more civilised for my interactions with folks at the village, I made my journey back up the hill. The snow was much worse, but I was spurred on my human interaction and warmth.

Day Thirteen

I had difficulty sleeping last night. The generator went again and left me in the dark. I’m not afraid of it, but I’ve grown used to having a lamp on while I’m sleeping. I keep it dim, but still on. I woke up and it was off. I thought I’d turned it off or something in my sleep, so I tried to close my eyes and will myself to sleep.

Then the cold started to creep in. The heating was supposed to be on through the night, just low. I pulled the covers close to me and at one point even tried to reach out and grab my dressing gown. It didn’t do much to help. After a little while, I realised maybe it’d be better if I put it on instead, but the moment I got out of bed the cool air hit me. Then the noises. It was probably just my senses adapting to the darkness, but every creak of the floorboards underfoot echoed, it sounded almost like someone was in the cabin. Once I had the gown on I got back in bed and pulled the covers over me.

Sleep came, eventually. I’ve spent the rest of the day shattered, though. It’s been a bit of a lazy one, barring a trip to the loo with a coathanger as a weapon and bundling up mid-morning to get the generator working again.

Day Fourteen

No generator problems today, and I decided to make another trip into the village. That way I’d be able to freshen the supplies that’d expire faster, like milk. Possibly a blanket if there was anywhere which had them. Something to help make things warmer if the genny’s going to keep crapping out.

I may have expected too much from the village and took some time to get a drink at the café, which was one of the only places that was still open. The village shop had some scarves knitted by the mother of the person running it. I picked that up, along with the perishables and had an easier walk back to the village than I did last time.

That’s when things went awry. Maybe I’m just cursed here or something. I don’t know. There was that person from a few days ago, yelling about the skull. I’d expected them to return, even after I’d hidden it. The person was sat on the bench when I got back to the cabin. I called out, trying to be neighbourly, after all, they might have been there to apologise for coming across like a crazy person.

They didn’t respond. I got closer and said hello again, I asked if the person was okay. Still nothing. Once I was close enough, I saw they had a book in their hands and looked like they were reading it, only they weren’t. The person was dead, probably from the cold or… I don’t know. I’d have definitely seen them when I left for the village.

I tried to call the police, but the cabin’s phone wasn’t working. Of course. I’d not really tried using it for anything. My own reception was terrible. It was time to hike back down the hill to the village and tell someone.

By the time I got down there, the shops were closed, the pub had signs up that it was closed for Christmas. I made my way back up and sat on the bench. I’d have to keep trying my phone for the police, and wanted to give the person company. They were a woman, I realised, being sat that near them. Her book was handwritten, all stories about the woods. Fairytales about creatures living around the lake, living in the cave. Each one ended with beings taking people away, leaving things behind as offerings. Generally sticks or stones made to look like their abductee.

Eventually the reception was good enough, the police said they would pop by, ask some questions and take the body away.

I went inside and sat by the window waiting, but no one came. I’m going to bed now, hopefully I’ll get interrupted by the police.

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Advent of Abomination is by Black Armada and available here.