Rougarous and Witches

In medieval French times they believed in werewolves/Rougarou and would tell their kids these stories to keep them out of the woods, but later in the 16th Century people viewed this as a disease or some sort of medical condition that was more of a genetic disorder rather than something you could catch. When the French set sail and settled in places like Quebec and then Louisiana the story of the Rougarou followed them and expanded to many different versions.

In modern day Cajun Louisiana the legend still exists and there have been many stories told over time but perhaps the case of Lucius Martin sticks out the most. Lucius moved to Lafayette, Louisiana from New Orleans with his wife having previously come down from Canada. He was of French descent but his wife was Canadian. He had a scruffy appearance and gave a stern, stand offish vibe but was quite tall and hunting was his passion. He would spend most of the hunting season out patrolling for deer mostly but if he was having a bad day at the hunting office he would take home some migratory birds for pride reasons more so.

On a routine hunt he had his sights set on a large deer just up ahead through the trees, he let a shot out, which was quickly followed by another one as the first one just missed. The deer was down , the bullet struck its neck but there was another cry that was heard. Lucius went to check this out and seen a regular house cat that had been grazed by a bullet, lying on the wet ground dying slowly. He put the cat out of its misery but out came this weary looking woman, probably only in her late 30's but age wasn't kind to her, pointy nose and wrinkled skin was proof of this. It was her cat that Lucius shot, she was distraught at this repeatedly crying out " No not my Misty" she had a slight Eastern European taste to her accent. Lucius apologised and explained that it was an accident and offered to help bury her cat but the woman told him to leave immediately before saying to him "You took something I love and now I shall return the heartbreak to you" before mumbling some kind of foreign gibberish and leaving with the dead cat in her hands.

Lucius's wife Martina worked at the University of Lafayette as a professor in Anthropology and Sociology was a well respected figure in the community and endeared herself to everyone by hosting many charitable events at the college. In the fall she was suddenly diagnosed with a chronic lung problem which was terminal. She never smoked in her life and actually ran events to help get people to quit smoking, it was like some sort of a sick, disgusting karma. A month she was given to live, all tests were done but nothing could be found as to why she was diagnosed with this, Lucius was torn apart by this news and searched far and wide for help for her but every specialist came to the same bewildering conclusion. On a cold Wednesday morning Martina passed away in her own bed.

All that Lucius could pinpoint this strange sudden death to was the woman who's cat he shot and the words she said to him that day. He confided in one of Martina's colleagues Professor Walken and told him about this meeting with the woman, Walken was immediately interested about this and wanted to hear more. He explained to Lucius that there have been issues before like this but not for many of years but it sure sounded similar and if it was then Lucius has got himself involved in something a lot worse than he could have imagined.  " It seems you have come across a witch Lucius, they haven't been seen in years but when you cross one and upset one like you have done they curse you" Lucius looking perplexed didn't respond he just sat there rubbing his temple. The professor quickly followed this up by saying "Sounds like she cursed your wife with lycanthropy" Lucius finally musters up a response "My head is all over the place, so if this is lycanthropy does this mean what I think it means?" "Yep" says professor Walken.

Over the next two weeks there were reported mauling's of people not far from where Lucius went hunting to which were put down to animal attacks, Black Bears mostly got the honor of the killings. Lucius knew what this was but had to wait until The Moon was at its biggest and brightest to come across the creature. Professor Walken told him all he needed to know but Lucius didn't want him to go along with him on this special hunt, he needed to go and face this alone. The Moon was at its fullest and off set Lucius equipped with all he supposedly needed.

He wandered around for a few hours, often taking breaks to question his sanity and mistaking the sound of a hungry idle fox for what he was looking for, until he could hear a rustling noise up ahead followed by the growl of a rabid dog. Through the trees in the distance he could see yellow eyes peering at him but it started to get closer and closer, he noticed that she was still herself but stuck in the transformation stage. She grew from her 5ft 3 height to what must of been 7ft in a matter of seconds, her spine sticking out from her back, nails grew longer, fur covered her body especially around her neck in what looked rather mane like. What was his wife was no more as she coldly stared at him not recognizing that this is the man that she swore to spend her life with, an overflow of drool spilled from her mouth knowing she would feed soon.

Lucius armed with a bow and arrow arched his aim back ready to let go, tears coming from his face he reluctantly let an arrow fly that hit her above the shoulder. These arrows were specialized silver arrows to take down creatures such as this that were given to him by the professor. The Rougarou was dazed but continued galloping towards Lucius who arched back again and fired another, this time it stopped her in her tracks. She crawled inch by inch until she reached his feet still trying to get one last bite at him. He could see that she was in pain and caught between trying to claw at him and whining for help, Lucius said a prayer in his head before letting fly of one last arrow that struck Martina right between the eyes.

As the arrow hit her she started to turn back to her true form and she lay there naked and lifeless, Lucius carried her body to a quiet place and buried her peacefully. Later that night the anger inside of him grew and grew so he set out to find the woman that cursed his wife, when he reached the area that he saw her before there was a cottage and a grave outside it marked Misty. He kicked open the door and saw the lady rocking in her chair laughing as if expecting his arrival, "Why, why , why did you do this he angrily shouted at her but her response was just more laughter followed by "Because i can". He promised to kill her slowly , first he fired an arrow that struck her in the stomach then stabbed her in both wrists while she lay on the ground, sticking her to the floor with blood pouring out. He lit a match and made a trail leading up to her out of gasoline, "Die bitch" he said as he threw the match on the ground. She went up in flames along with the house.

The next day Lucius went to tell the professor what happened, he called to his house and college but he wasn't there, his phone was off, he just vanished. A month later there was still no sign of Walken, Lucius was walking down the town road when he over heard that the maulings happened again last night and he immediately thought of the professor. The witch had cursed him with heartbreak but it wasn't just for his wife it was for everyone that ever got close to him.

The Feather Lady

The story of the Feather Lady had been around longer than anyone can remember, generations told their kids about this and in turn they told their eventual kids. It was in a small town of Caldwell, Texas that the legend was told but just outside the town about a ten minute drive was an old country road which had a typically Texan red rock road as an entrance that led to a small community called Cade Lake pronounced (Kay-Da-Lake) and this was where the legend of the Feather Lady was born.

It is said that there once was an old lady who lived pretty much a hermit lifestyle but this was by choice she preferred to keep to herself, she saw people and the world as trouble and didn't want any part in this so kept herself hidden away in the woods by the lake in what was basically a small shack of a house. She was on her way to feed what she called her " Friends" the animals that inhabited the area, when she was crossing a road and struck accidentally by two boys in their pick up truck.

The boys panicked as it was clear the old lady was dead on impact and also there was no way a lady of her age could have survived such impact. So after mulling over what to do they decided to bury her rather than ringing the police through fear of the consequences.They waled into an area of the woods that was hidden from view of roads and any houses, on their way dragging her old, pale corpse feathers started to fall from birds that sat in the surrounding trees and stuck to the lady so the boys in their state of consternation decided to just bury her feather covered.

Later that night the boys who lived in a trailer sat down to watch a movie hoping to distract themselves of what happened earlier. As they were starting to nod off they could hear a scratching sound at their door as if the pet dog wanted to get back in so they opened the door but nothing was there except a gathering of birds on the clothes line directly opposite the trailer door. Over the next week this sounds continued to happen and more birds started to gather but strangely it was all types of birds who started making noise that grew louder as the night/s went on. The caw of the Crow, the hoot of the Owl, the chirp of the Mockingbird and the cluck of the Chicken could all be heard from inside the trailer.

This grows to an unbearable point one night, the boys sitting in the trailer covering their ears when suddenly the windows and door smash open and there stands the old lady they buried, completely rotten and covered in feathers. She was like some kind of human-bird hybrid , her bones stuck out and on her face she had what looked like a beak. Her eyes are sunken black pits of clay and birds lay on her outstretched arms pecking at her clay filled eyes while disturbingly singing at the boys before attacking them both.

The two boys were never seen around again and all that remained inside their trailer were feathers and human bone. Nowadays it has turned into a bit of a scare prank for parents or camp leaders to play on the kids, they would organize someone to scratch at where they were staying at night and dress up as the feather lady which always frightened the kids.

It is said that the feather lady still stalks those who have done bad in that region of the woods of Cade Lake. If you do hear some sort of scratching at night or indeed notice an unusual gathering of all types of birds outside your home then pray they aren't here for you but some say if you hear the noise or see the birds then it is already too late....

Teenage Years Rock

Seven Street park was located at the end of crofters way road. It was a busy road with a lot of access to work flowing through the street but it also had a real community feel to it, everyone knew each other it was a family orientated area with a lot of older people living here. The park itself was a bit of a thing of the past in that the kids of this generation didn't really hang around here which is a pity considering for years and years families grew up in this park and it was a bit of a local get together spot. The park had many stories to it, including "The Jinn of 79".

Back in 1979 teenagers would patrol the park doing what teenagers do drinking, smoking and all other high spirited behaviour. Along the west side of the park was where the most rebellious teenagers would gather around a fire for the night but mostly it was just harmless fun, "Through the smoke of the fire beholds the Jinn of Seven Street Park" this was a legend that was talked about in these parts for decades and one night this legend came to fruition.

Five teenagers aged between 16-18 decided one Saturday night to go down by the fire and smoke some lets just say illegal substances which they obtained from one of the boy's brothers room. The night was flowing smoothly and one of they teenagers suggested they play truth or dare, one of the dares was to go to the darkest area of the park and wait there for ten minutes alone. Off went the tall, skinny awkward looking teen trying to show he wasn't afraid of the dark but if only what went on in his head matched his brave exterior. The ten minutes were up and he returned with his chest pushed out trying to show his macho bravado, everyone chose dare on their first go and in turn they all did what was asked, no one was gonna show weakness here.

As midnight hit the gong of the towns church bells rang out around the park, dogs barked and the wind whistled. The teenagers packed up their shit and were getting ready for the walk home, one of them tried to put out the fire but it wouldn't die, this brought great laughter amongst the other four who just stood there watching their friend struggle over the fire. "You lot have a go then and see for yourself" said the annoyed teen. They threw water all over the fire but it kept coming back and back, they tried throwing clay over it but again it sparked back up, this fire was invincible it seemed.

Suddenly threw a puff of smoke appeared a bald headed figure covered in tattoos, the gang looked perplexed "what the.." said the small pudgy kid. The figure stood there floating telling the kids " I want you all to think of your favourite animal" pudgy thought of a Bear, skinny and awkward thought of a Giraffe, Couldn't put out the fire kid thought of a Tiger, the other two guys - nerd teen thought of a Dolphin and lastly the hyper guy thought of a Monkey. This thought turned them one by one into each animal that they thought of, well each person saw themselves as themselves but saw everyone else as their chosen animal.

The Jinn clicked his fingers and all of them started dancing until he clicked again and they stopped, he said to them all " You all should go home now" his hands clapped and they all returned to their true form once again. The Jinn disappeared into the fire and it then went out, the teenagers all just looked at each other asking what the hell just happened. The next week at school they decided to tell people the events that happened that nigh which turned into a running joke around the school, they were known as "The loopy five of 79" from that moment onward and they never touched another smoke of that stuff again.

Side note: The Jinn/Stoned idea is just a bit of fun seeing as this week was my birthday I wanted to do something a little more lighthearted. In Islamic theology there is a long standing association with the Jinn/Djinn/Genie and these stories are really frightening , I hope to write about some in the near future.

House Arrest

Every Tuesday was Jason's day off from work so he would normally run some errands and just relax for the day, drink a few beers, watch the game just doing what every other guy in his mid 40's does on his day off. He worked as a solicitor for some high end law firm down on the corner of 8th and Charles Avenue, an area which most people would only see on special occasions. He was single, living the bachelor life as he liked to put it, never was married never wanted to be,doesn't have kids doesn't want too either. He loved doing his own thing and living the high life, the thought of responsibilities scared him. Himself and his dog were the only residence here unless you count the ladies of the night that would often swing by to boost Jason's ego.

He hung out at a bar down the road from work, one of these bars that everyone wore suits and Jason loved this he loved the feeling that gave him, he felt masculine and accomplished in the suit but also when he looked at a girl and she notices him in "that" bar he got a thrill almost like an adrenaline rush knowing that the respect was there with the eye contact. His friends were the nerd turned big shot types that turned into exactly what they resented in school. Once they got a top paying job they now smugly stood in their suits judging people that passed before going out to the back alley and rolling up.

On a frosty Tuesday night Jason came from the bar and sat down, dozing off to sleep he heard a knock at his door, he groggily walked over and answered it but no one was there. His dog went running out , he shouted for the dog to come back but then everything started to get dark, his eyes were shutting and speech was slurring until the point where it all went black.When he woke everything was blurry at first, all he could see were shadows in front of him but things were so disorientating. He noticed after a few minutes that he was upside down hanging from the ceiling, there was blood dripping from some part of his body which could be heard dropping every second or so into a bucket that lay by his head. The shadows that were in front of him were actually people, three people standing looking at him with their heads tilted to their right hand side, they stood holding sharp large knives but their faces were covered with a mask,  a Halloween styled crazy latex human face mask with a huge smile carved into it and long hair attached to the back.

Jason asked repeatedly "What do you want" but never got an answer they just kept standing peering at him, one guy straightened his head for a second but immediately leaned it back to the right again, this was as much life that these mysterious men would show. An hour would pass, Jason was getting weaker and weaker the blood was all rushing to the area that was cut open , drop by drop he could feel himself slowly deteriorating. His scream for help was in vain as when he tried to do so all that came out was a croaky whisper, he worked out that the cut was just below his larynx in his throat and needed medical help very soon.

A few minutes later one of the men pulled out some juggling balls and started to juggle while laughing uncontrollably, seeing this in a state of disorientation was actually disturbingly comforting. When he was finished he looked to the guy to his left who took out a skipping rope and started to skip, again along with the laugh. The third and final guy sat on the ground and started playing with building blocks, he built up as high as he could go then pointed at Jason laughing again as if he was the joker uncle at a wedding telling a silly joke. They started to edge closer step by step as the laughter grew louder and more out of control, Jason at this stage was actually starting to laugh to himself , it was contagious it seemed but he was clearly going into shock. As they got to within a few yards of him the three men took turns forming a tunnel with their arms reaching out, two would stand with their arms outstretched meeting the other persons hands and one would run through and then they would change it up. They hit play on an old tape player with classic opera music playing as each took turns running through the man made tunnel but at the end when they got to Jason they would each stab him in the abdomen, must of been 8/9 stabbings before they finished.

Jason lay upside down his stomach ripped open with guts and intestines hanging from his body, the three men took pictures of his lifeless body , posing next to it and drawing smiley faces all over him, they were proud of their nights work. It sort of looked like Jason was the catch of the day with how delighted they were acting, they then left the house behind leaving no trace of evidence only the body hanging there which was found shortly.

An investigation was made into the murder and after a while the three men were caught somewhere up the country, after all DNA samples were taken it was reported that these three men were actually Jason's three sons. He impregnated three different women back in his early 20's before leaving each one of them to bring up the children alone.Somewhere along the line the three sons met each other, presumably after each of their mothers passed away due to the life they all lived which was nothing short of misery. The three women were all involved in drugs and had to use their body to make a living for them and their sons which eventually caught up with them all. This murder was put down to an act of revenge for the sons as they each blamed the disappearance of their dad for the life they were subjected too. They were all found guilty and sent to prison for life without parole, they were beaten badly in prison to the point of death until they all took their own lives one at a time starting with the eldest. Jason's dog was found in the neighbors house safe and sound shortly after the murder.

Wayward Cemetery

The legends of Wayward Cemetery date back hundreds of years, it is situated in the middle of nowhere somewhere along the road to Utah, no sign of civilisation for miles it is said to only home the psychotic and deformed, the people who no one wanted were sent to the only place that would take them and there they lay to rest.

Any groundskeeper that had worked here had left within a matter of hours, stating that spending time alone out there really plays with your mind. The cemetery can be visited all year round for those crazy enough but it is one night of the year that thousands flocked here and this of course was October 31st, Halloween night. They gathered like the homeless around a newly open shelter, waiting patiently all night to see something that they truly do not want to see. Somewhere in the cemetery is said to be the opening to the gates of hell that opens sometime during that night.

Some of the recorded sightings of that night over the years included blue lights seen dancing around a grave, the holy ground randomly going up in flames and also reported sightings of people seen hanging from a tree known as the tree of despair. Old ruins remained scattered around the cemetery which were said to be part of a passageway that the Devil used to reside in, the people who came here on Halloween would worship this area, they would sacrifice whatever/whoever they said they were asked too as it is thought the Devil could communicate his work to them, this truly was the Devils playground.

Perhaps the most frightening documented story was that of Ursula Archer, a lovely innocent woman that came from a very holy family but she gave birth to a child that was "Different" the child was born with one hand shorten than the other and only 3 fingers on it but also it had a severe intellectual disability. Ursula loved her boy who when looked at his mother gave her a smile that brightened her day, when the people of the town saw the boy they demanded it be took away, describing it as a freak or Satan's spawn. The authorities one day came knocking on Ursula's door demanding that she gave up the child, they took it away and sent a letter to Ursula stating that her child was buried in Wayward Cemetery with their deepest apologies. 

Ursula was heartbroken, her days were now filled with endless crying listening to her boys favorite song over and over. A few months later on her sons birthday she finally managed to get the courage to go visit her sons grave , Eugene Archer October 31st 1912 it read. As she prepared to leave she could see from the corner of her eye blue flickering lights and heard whispers of a child crying coming from each grave she stepped over. The voices drove her deep into the cemetery to the passageway that had steps leading down into it, she was said to have entered the passageway and never came back out, many reporting that she was lured in by the devil and then turned into flames.
Her body was never found, the last known sighting of her was in the cemetery that night but what really happened no one knows for sure.

In modern day Wayward Cemetery there hasn't been a body buried here for twenty five years, it is mostly vacant except for the occasional paranormal investigator or on Halloween night where still a handful of people come out here to see if they can spot something out of the ordinary but for the most part it lays idle, walking through the cemetery gives you the "chills" there is an atmosphere that cannot quite be put into words you really got to witness it to understand. What remains of the passageway can still be seen, people have said that the pieces are extremely hot when you touch them and the area where Ursula was said to have disappeared is marked on the ground by a mysterious black burnt circle that won't be wiped away. Wayward Cemetery certainly has some mystique to it and there certainly was a lot of cruelty that took place but if the Devil did reside here remains perhaps folklore of the people's minds.

Desolation

The wind was different up there, everything felt so desolate. I am back now six months but I will never forget the events that happened deep in the Eastern Alps last winter.

Eight of us started the excursion to reach the highest point Piz Buin which stood at 3.225 m and was located on the border between Austria and Switzerland. This was something I wanted to do for years and finally I assembled a team bold and brave enough to take on this challenge. Three of these men I had never met before they were local mountaineers that knew the area well and were recommended to be by the B.M.C (British Mountaineering Council) . The other four were personal friends of mine whom I grew up taking on such adventures with and trusted them with my life but this was our most challenging climb by far.

The morning we set out was filled with anticipation we couldn't wait to get started, we were split into two groups - Ed, Alan,Bud and myself were group A and Nigel and the three Austrians were group B. The Austrians told me their names countless times but I could never remember so I just stuck with the Austrians, I was just glad that Nigel drew the short straw and was landed in their group.
The weather wasn't great, but nor did we expect it to be. The two groups separated to see who would reach the summit first, Ed always loved the competitive side to things but to be fair we were all similar in that way.

From the start there was a different feeling up here, the most popular time of the year and yet no one was around, I couldn't understand this and soon I realized why. We took ourselves over a long winding slope, Alan noticed a smell of burning but it wasn't the cozy smell of someone starting a warming fire it had a harsh, throat cutting scent to it, one that would make you think twice about your next breath. Up in the distance we could see smoke coming from different directions I remember hearing one of the guys counting " 1..2...3.......4, I count four balls of smoke"so we went to check them out starting with the closest.

When we got there it was like the remains of a forest fire but instead of tree's there were bodies, lying there with a foul stench oozing out from them. We were stunned , I had to rub my eyes and repeatedly pinch myself to see if this was real, perhaps what was most haunting was the fact that none of us said a word we just looked at each other, reading each others worst thoughts and then slowly approaching each body. They were unrecognizable to us, I had no idea if this was Nigel and the Austrians or what the hell happened here, they were burnt so bad it was as if they were lying there for weeks on end but the smoke was only fresh so this must of just happened. Needless to say we checked the other three areas that had smoke coming from them and the same thing lay in front of us, countless bodies burned to crackling bone.

What did we do? Do we turn back? Keep going to see if there were anymore up over the mountains ahead of us? Nothing was the answer we sat trying to take it in and try and piece together how this happened, our radio connection to Nigel wasn't working so we feared the worst.
After a while we decided to retrace our steps and head back towards base camp, we were just over half way gone so it was gonna take some time.  I remember seeing a large helicopter passing overhead it was unusually low , well it looked like a helicopter, we signaled but it flew past us then returned and once again kept on going we were visibly demoralized.

You know when you get that out of body experience where you don't know if what's happening is actually happening? Yeah this was a case of that, existentialism I think it's called. Our minds all over the place we must of took a wrong turn or else our marked path had been well em unmarked, getting lost was the last thing we needed but sure as hell it was what was happening. There was the faintest sound of what could only be described as a muffling radio connection, maybe it was Nigel's we thought so we did our best to follow it until we were greeted by a blinding light.

When the light went away I was alone, Ed, Alan and Bud gone, whoever was shining the light was gone. I looked down at my feet I seen a hand lying there covered in snow and blood, who's was this I remember thinking to myself, Then I noticed. It was my hand , me left hand was gone , ripped straight off me without me feeling a thing, no blood spatter, it was like it was torn off and the arm sewn back together in a matter of seconds. Surely I am hallucinating but everything was so real, right on cue another puff of smoke came just a few hundred yards up from me floating in the sky, you could almost make out a smiling face in it.

I clenched my cross around my neck and closed my eyes remembering all the one's I loved, I trudged forward every step was agonizing , keeping my balance with one hand is a lot harder than you would think. Almost there I said to myself "this is it, face it, just do it" crawling up over the snowy slope that hid where the smoke was coming from, every second seemed like an hour. I reached the top of the slope all I could see was the smoke and on the ground I could make out three bodies, I knew who they were, then just past them were five figures standing peering at me.

I was too weak to see properly so I knelt down waiting for "it" to happen, took my last smokey breath and closed my eyes, I wanted the last image in my head on this earth to be of my son and daughter.
"Sir,Sir are you alright" My eyes opened before he could finish the sentence, it was five people sent out on a rescue mission and they actually found me, I fell to the ground smiling as they came and aided me, I did it I survived

On the way back I was being carried, the smile still on my face I looked up at the bright sky and clenched my cross knowing I would be seeing my family soon, I then seen that strange helicopter that passed earlier with a familiar blinding light shining out of it as it disappeared into the distance.

This was the story of my survival on Piz Buin, whatever killed my friends I still don't know. I have my ideas but I prefer to keep them to myself. People always ask me "What was it like up there" I always respond " The wind was different up there, everything felt so desolate".
E.T Lee , Earl Tom Smith

Apartment 43

Jackson moved into his new residency in Downtown Brooklyn along with his son Duane, apartment number 43 would be his new home for the foreseeable future. There would be no Mrs.Jackson due to a long term battle with breast cancer so this led to the downsize in living. Affordable and a fresh start were two big motives behind the move, the memories of his wife were not tainted all over this apartment which gave Jackson exactly what he wanted and more importantly gave Duane a chance to wash his memory of the bad images that the old house had brought him.

The apartment itself sat in an old apartment block sandwiched on both sides by more apartments made out of brick that gave a dusty look to this part of town. Inside the apartment was nothing out of the ordinary it consisted of an open living area/kitchen, two bedrooms, a bathroom and a small balcony that had a fire escape which led down to the street. The last residence here were an elderly couple who since moved to a retirement home and before them lived two brothers that drove buses on the local bus system so the apartment had no unusual history to it.

The settling in period went as fine as it could go, Jackson had made friends and got himself a good paying job, Duane also seemed content with his new school and surroundings. The weeks and months pass by with ease as the emotional attachment with the old house started to drift, only to be replaced with a new found bond to this apartment. 

Jackson who had problems in the past with sleep mainly due to his wife passing started to find his sleep was getting better and most night's he would drift off without worry, but he started to notice something. He would just start to fall asleep when he would hear the faint sound of a ticking noise, almost like an old clock but a lot faster, "tick tick tick tick tick tick" this would happen only when the room was completely silent and speed up as if it had a pulse. The funny thing about it was that once Jackson became frustrated with it or would get up out of the room then it would stop. Maybe it was something in the pipes thought Jackson but it seemed to happen at the exact time every night as if in tandem with his sleeping pattern.

This slowly started to become bothersome so he set up a dictaphone that he bought earlier that day and once it became night he started to record. He could hear the ticking noise clearly but when he went to listen to the recording nothing came out, no ticking, nothing! The next day on his way to work Jackson was scrolling through his phone and was stunned to what he had found, there was a picture of him sleeping on his phone. He was alone in the apartment that night.

He knew not to mention this to his son or anyone else as he knew how this would sound, this was on his mind constantly he tried setting up camera's but nothing could be seen. A few nights later the ticking had gotten louder, it was as if it was right up against Jackson's ear,it turned into a thumping sound "thump thump thump thump thump thump" until it started to ease away "thump........thump..........thump" it went eerily quiet not even the sound of traffic passing could be heard, all Jackson could hear was his thoughts scrambling.

He eventually asked Duane casually did he ever hear a sort of tick tock noise like the one clocks make to which Duane shook his head and looked at him strangely implying that he didn't know what his dad was talking about. That night Jackson lay in bed awaiting the return of the familiar sound, it became almost like a nightly ritual (He would hear the noise, stay up and try figure it out then it would ease away and he could sleep then) and on time it started. Tonight it never eased, it grew louder and faster the thumping had returned which led to a bang coming down to hall by Duane's room.

He stepped out of his room walking slowly towards Duane's room while also following the noise, he slowly eased open Duane's bedroom door which started to creak. On the bed sitting upright was Duane who frighteningly said " Daddy there's someone under my bed" Jackson looking scared but equally curious so he knelt down tucking his head slowly under the bed and he heard trembling whispers of "Daddy there's someone on my bed" he stood up walked back a few steps and froze.

Jackson was found a few days later dead in his apartment by work friends who stopped by to check on him, there never was a son called Duane it was thought that he was suffering from a bad case of denial and a personality disorder after the trauma of losing his wife and Duane was a fabric of his imagination made up to help him deal with the loss.The ticking noise was deeply rooted in his head mimicking how he was feeling when he learned of his wife's cancer, the days were like a clock ticking away until the inevitable happened. He was found lying on the kitchen floor nails eroded away from scratching at his face which looked as if it was after being mauled and a knife stuck in his heart presumably to symbolise how he felt.

The Fisherman

Along the coast of Western Ireland people would gather in local taverns and tell old legends around an open fire. As with tradition the landlord would ring the pub bell which meant that no more drinks would be served, the music would stop, door slammed shut and people would all assemble around a round table and trade their own stories which would be started off by the elder people and then others would join in based on their longevity of attendance. Waves crashing up against the rocks and the beam of the lighthouse light circulating the Inn really set the mood.

A man in his late fifties dressed always in fisherman clothes would regularly attend; two drinks of stout planted in front of him, he never spoke at these gatherings besides the occasional sarcastic groan which was just loud enough for people to hear but not loud enough to take offence by it. One night, as each story ended, it went to the next person to the right of the current storyteller, and it came to the fisherman who normally kept his head down but this night he pointed his finger up to signal he had something to say. He stood up cleared his throat and began to talk, maybe he had more than his usual drinks of stout this night but everyone seemed intrigued and leaned in curiously to hear what he had to say.

Spoken like a narrator of a documentary, he went on to tell the tail of his encounters with the banshee that resided by the rocks of the lighthouse. He described her as a skinny old hag with a wrinkled face, long grey hair covering her forehead and wearing only a gown as she would reside on the rocks late at night letting out a deafening wail which only her intended recipient could hear . This scream would indicate that a death would be in your family soon. The banshee was also only visible to whom it wanted to warn and would vanish in a matter of seconds only to be seen again when she had bad news to bear.

The man sat down, finished off his drink and put his hat on before leaving without saying a word. Everyone seemed bewildered by his story and what made his firstly talk but secondly leave in such a hurry. The next night the bell rang and again the gathering took place but this time there was no sign of the fisherman. A week went by but still no sign of the man. A few locals stopped by his cottage home but he wasn't there, everything in his house looked fine, there were no signs of a break-in or that he packed up and left. 

At the tavern he sat at the edge of the bar always and this remained unoccupied in his disappearance. People would talk among themselves as to where he had gone to and this itself turned into a bit of a tale for story time. The landlord was always very curious as to where he went and every morning he would wipe the stool and the bar down where the man sat wondering to himself where he vanished to. He noticed under the bar counter where the man sat that inscribed into the wood was the date 3/12/75, this happened to be the date that the fisherman was last seen. 

The landlord quizzed his clients about what this could mean, with most putting it down to him just writing the day he was gonna leave but something didn't quite add up, all his belonging's were still in his house, his van parked outside and it just so happened to be the first time he had spoken freely at the gathering. One man asked what did he do that day and how was he acting, the landlord responded "The usual came in about 8.30 after his day of fishing, sat down read the paper he brought with him and order his pint of stout, nothing out of the ordinary".  "Check the paper, maybe there's something he seen in that which caused him to disappear" another man croaked back while trying to seemingly inhale all of his cigarette smoke in one breath.

The stash of old papers were stacked in a pile by the bathroom for readers who liked to occupy themselves while doing their "business". The locals rooted through the pile of papers looking for that specific one, "found it" said one guy with a huge smile on his face as though he accomplished something to be proud of. As they flicked over page by page they noticed near the end of the paper there was a picture  that was clearly stuck on. It was of the fisherman with a woman and two kids, on the writing underneath it stated "local fisherman John Kavanagh celebrates the catch of the day along with his wife Noreen and kids Sue and Patrick"

The man who now was known as John never mentioned a family, everyone thought of him as a loner. The landlord along with his customers tried to track down the family but when they did so they heard of the passing of each member in recent time, First the girl, then the boy and lastly his wife in what were described as sudden deaths that nobody seen coming. 

Months passed and this local fisherman John turned himself into part of the folklore of this quiet tavern inn, there are many theories as to what happened, each of them relayed to newcomers every night. Some stick to that he was just a loner who got out of town but many believe that the night of his disappearance John was on his way to the pub and as he was entering he saw the figure of the banshee for the fourth time in his life and on all previous times he lost a member of his family so he knew that tonight was his last so he left the family picture in the paper, inscribed the date under the bar counter, told his story, finished off his extra pint of stout and went home waiting for his demise.