Midwinter Mystery Series - Chapter Four

<sub>Midwinter Mystery - The Town of No Return

"Not Only... But Also “</sub>

_{The opaque misty mass drifted slowly over the snow covered ground, an unrelenting climatic phenomenon swallowing up everything in it's wake. Only the fluctuating weak spots in it's density offering any sanctuary to those 'careless' enough to be lost inside. Then, from somewhere in it's depths, two dim yellowish looking eyes materialized, growing larger and brighter as they traversed their way through the whitened haze.}

_{These particular set of “eyes” were actually a pair of halogen lamps belonging to one large and aged car, currently making it's nocturnal return trip to the small village of Mistry. The vintage vehicle trundled along, disrespectful of the night, the mist and it's driver's preoccupation with his female passenger. “ Are you sure, you know where you're going, George ?” questioned the rather concerned young lady seated next to him.} 

_{“ Yeah ! Of course I do, Doll ! ” he replied, in his best reassuring manner as he leant forward – his nose almost pressing against the windscreen – straining his eyes to peer through the ever thickening veil of mist ahead of them.}

_{The girl rolled down the side window and stuck her head out, squinting as the damp freezing air flooded her eyes. “ Well, I can't see a thing ! So, I don't know how you're managing to ?” she stated doubting her chauffeurs earlier declaration.}

_{George glanced over in her general direction, trying to locate the source of the chilling} outside forces, as the internal climate rapidly equalised with the external. 
“ Blimey, Pegs ! Close that window, will ya, it's flippin' brass monkees' out there, and you know the heater's not workin' !” he explained, becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress on the journey home, and more importantly with his would-be girlfriend. Peggy let out a small grunt as she struggled to close the window, the handle too stiff and awkward for her to turn, “ I'm just saying, that if I don't get back in one piece, my dad won't 'alf be mad with you George ! And you know what a devil of a temper he has on him, that's all !” she said. He smiled weakly, trying to mask his true feelings in this matter, “ Look, don't worry about it, Babe ! I promise, I'll 'ave yer safely tucked up indoors before yer dad's even finish'd 'is last pint at the 'Spitting Feathers' ... 

_{scouts honour !” he said, throwing a feeble two finger scout salute to his eyebrow – it was a promise he sorely intended to keep, as he was only to well aware of her father's rather hot-headed reputation.}

_{George Clemens was young of soul, but had an air of worldly experience about him, which was surprising as he had never actually seen any of it. He was the personification of the term ' local lad', but he had big dreams and grander plans for his future, all he needed now was the money, resources, and a whole lot of luck. One of those high hopes, was the courting and betrothing of a certain young lady by the name of Miss Peggy Twelvepiece. In this personal mission, he had invested a considerable amount of time, effort and resources – to little or “No Chance !” avail.}

_{Peggy was an only child, and although not spoilt, her father – the gamekeeper of the Squires's, large estate - was overly protected of his 'little girl', and highly distrustful of any and all suitors, particularly if they had any connection with the local constabulary - and for some unexplained reason, an even stronger dislike of anyone who happened to have the name of.... George Clemens.}

_{Peggy had finally managed to close the window and had proceeded to set about} 'securing' her own attire, which had come loosened after wrestling with the handle. She was short, lithe slip of a girl - 21 years of age, but couldn't lay claim to having 'never been kissed before ' -  and was regarded by many, herself included, as being 'quite pretty'. She sat still for a moment recovering her composure and collecting her thoughts, a pensive frame of mind reflecting in her expression, ” Anyway, I thought we were going to see a romantic film this evening ! ” she eventually disclosed.

_{"Wot ! “ The Bride of Frankenstein !” He replied, laughingly.}

_{"Don't take that tone with me, Mr Clemens ! It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, after all, brides usually get married don't they, and weddings are supposed to romantic, aren't they ?” Peggy re-examined the facts as she understood them.}

_{"Ah ! Well, yes...” he flustered, his words falling over themselves for a reasonable answer,}  

_{“ ..that's right ! Marriage, is a very romantic... thingy, in fact I think it's THE most romantic thingy, EVER !” he smiled weakly, congratulating himself in the belief that he had satisfactory averted a potentially hazardous situation.
Peggy frowned, a furrow of concentration crossing her brow,} "And last month, didn't you take me to see that film, what was it called again... oh yes “ The BRIDES of Dracula” really, George, I'm beginning to wonder if you have something against marriage,” she extrapolated, folding her arms tightly across the chest and tossing her head - accompanied by a small upturned nose - up in the air to demonstrate dissatisfaction.

_{"Honestly, Pegs ! I don't have anything against marriage ! I think it's er … er … really good constitution, an' all that !” he tried to mount an argument for defense.}

_{" It's an INSTITUTION ! “ she corrected.}

_{" NAH ! It's not as bad as all that ! “ he said.}

_{" You, you... big LUMMOX HEAD !” she exclaimed in a fit of pique.}

_{George was taken aback by this outburst, stunned for words, there seemed no discernible recourse open to him. A feeling of hopelessness rose up threatening to put pay to the rest of his evenings plans.}

_{" NOOOO ! LOOK OUT !” screamed Peggy suddenly, pointing frantically at the ghostly hooded figure that mysteriously} appeared in the road ahead. George reacted with a high-panic cocktail of reflex and adrenaline, as he frantically wrenched the steering column hard right to avoid hitting the faceless, whitened apparition – as it turned to face them, raising it's arms up across it's body in an act of defiance or fear – and from there on in it became a fight between man and misguided machine, as he desperately wrestled the car for control. It's off road trajectory slewing them dramatically up one of the grassy verges, then down again, crossing back over the road, up over the verge on the opposite side. The assault against the frozen ground forces continued – as it's wheels bumped, jostled and bounced their way across the unfriendly terrain, whilst simultaneously weaving between the onslaught of trees. Then, an earth spewing climax befell them, as George stamped his foot hard down, pushing the brakes – and his luck – as far as he could, seemingly going through the floor at one point, in a last ditch attempt to stem the flow, hopefully, before crashing into the dark, broad towering tree, that was rushing dangerously towards them. There came a screeching, squealing uproar, as the car bucked, shuddered and slid under his command, finishing on a crescendo – a long unnerving, high-pitched howling, drowning out everything.

_{George slumped forward, his head resting upon the tops of his hands – which were still clamped steadfast to the steering wheel – he was physically and emotionally exhausted, neither of which condition was exactly a natural state to him. Slowly regaining his faculties he was lured further back to consciousness by the protracted shrilling, noise, that was starting to aggravate his growing headache. He righted himself back up to a sitting position, and took stock of his situation. A cursory inspection confirmed that nothing seemed broken or not where it should be, either to himself or his beloved car, it's engine was still running without any sign of disruption – there was even that odd familiar ticking sound that the motor would make whenever it overheated. But, he couldn't see anything that would explain the persistent alarm that continued to pierce the night.}

_{He looked over at his co-pilot, who was currently curled up in a ball on the floor, lying somewhere between being half out the door and half out of her mind. Her head hanging down, long brown tangled hair – recently restrained under an unflattering woolen hat - now loose and free - draped across her face. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and apprehensively pulled her back up. As her hair fell away, he discovered that the cause of the unusual noisy emission was... Peggy ! Her unearthly siren song, was a 'Scream' Symphony, in the key of Terror, major.}

_{"Hey, It's okay ! It's all over now ! “ George patted her gingerly on the shoulder in an awkward, self-conscious manner as he attempted to offer soothing words of  comfort and solace.}

_{“ There, there, that's a good girl !”}

_{Then, hesitantly he asked, “ Are you alright, down there, then ?” as she began to unravel herself from the floor.}

_{"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M ALRIGHT, TO YOU ? YOU GREAT, BIG CLUMSY CLOD !” she snapped, slapinged his knee back in return.} 

_{“ What do you think you're playing at, you could have killed me.... or something !!” she admonished.}

_{"It weren't my fault ! It was that bloomin' geezer s}tepping right out in front of us, that did it !” he thumbed a closed hand back over his shoulder, indicating their past troubles.

_{"Did... did.. “ Peggy stammered her fearful thoughts out into the open, “ ..we hit him ?” her breathing becoming erratic with short, fast gulps as the trauma of the situation dawned on her.}

_{"I.. I..don't think so, “ George shifted nervously, a telltale fevered brow hinting of his deepening worry.}

_{"Well, don't you think we SHOULD be sure about that sort of thing,” she said marshaling her concerns.}

_{"I .. er ... guess so ! I mean ..er, yeah.. yeah of course, “ he nodded, as much to assure himself than Peggy. “ I'll .. er .. get out an' have a look around, then shall I ?“}

_{With that, he shoved hard on the door, putting his back into it which was no easy task given that it was now located just above his right shoulder - the door, not his back that is. A result of them being on an acute angle as the car's final resting place left the driver's side on a slightly elevated level – on top of an small unaccountable mound of earth.}

_{As he endeavored to climb out the door, Peggy attempted to return to her seat – placing her hands on either side of her, she began hauling herself back up – whilst removing a few errant strands of hair away from her eyes with a short sharp blow out the corner of her mouth. By now, George had managed to convince the door to stay open, by forcing it fully back on it's hinges, and was commencing his impersonation of a wholly ill-equipped mountaineer, struggling against the odds and an uncomfortable disposition, sitting at a 45 degree angle behind a large steering wheel whilst possessing the upper body strength of someone half his body weight.}

_{Peggy finally reappeared visible to the outside world, through the dirty steamed up windscreen. Reclaiming her recently dethroned seat, she felt secure enough to commence rummaging around in her handbag for an emergency repair kit – consisting of the basics: 1 x reflective surface ( compact mirror ), 1 x straightening tool ( hairbrush ), various restraining ties ( assorted safety pins ) and 1 x high visibility covering ( deep cherry lipstick ).}

_{George rolled his straggling lower half out of the window, and then - unable to resist the laws of motion – the rest of his body followed suite, rolling right out the car. Cat like reflexes, well honed muscle coordination, and Olympian levels of suppleness.... none of these attributes unfortunately, were at his disposal. Instead, he adopted the far more familiar ' falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes' technique that he had employed on so many painful previous occasions.}

_{His landing was not so much as ' tuck and roll' or even ' hit and run', more a case of ' hit rock and roll, and roll and roll !' only the car's running board preventing him from disappearing completely under it's chassis.}

"Ooooww ! Arrrrgh ! Ooohhh !” he groaned a medley of pain - which was threatening to become his signature tune – as he stretched an arm out to reach the outside handle, clamping it with a vice like grip, he began to extricate himself from floor. Once he had attained the more respectable vertical position, a long with a firm and even foothold, he proceeded towards the front of the motor – leaning against it for support as he went. He stopped for a moment to warm his freezing hands on it's heated engine cover, and listened to it's old, faithful motor, still chugging and spluttering away. The car's bodywork was 'decorated' with an array of bumps and dents – and even more scratches – all badges of honour in its long and loyal service to... it's careless log book holder.

_{He bowed low over the bonnet, his arms almost encompassing it in a friendly embrace, and in a hushed voice, acknowledged his gratitude for it's continual support, “ There, there, that's a good girl !” patting it gently as he did. Staring across it's long length – sloping down to the radiator grill - his attention was momentarily drawn to the thick mist gradually curling and swirling along, on it's slow nightly passage, highlighted by the two shafts of light from it's headlamps. Following directly on from there, he looked upon the massive oak tree – rearing up only inches away from them - that had been so close to denting something other than just the car.}

_{"Well ! Can you see anything, yet ? ” came the impatient little voice, from inside the car.}

_{George looked back over his shoulder, “ No, not yet ! Jus' give me a minute, will ya !” his curiosity starting to get the better of him. Passing between the car and the tree – the immobile and the unmovable – he walked back into the ever deepening murky shroud, trying his best to retrace their tracks in his quest for the missing stranger. Going as far as he could without losing sight of the car's glowing rear lights, fearing he might lose himself next if he did. The mist and the night conspired to isolate his senses, their resistance to sound and vision, offering nothing in return except the heavy damp air.}

_{George took a few more tentative steps into the unknown, before being disturbed by the haunting ringing of a lonely church bell, stabbing it's way through the wintry atmosphere. A religious calling, from somewhere, way off in the distance, broke the silent order of the moment, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, along with a worrying concern: Who was ringing it at this ungodly hour, and just what was it's intention – alarm or warning ? Only one thing was sure, thought George, it signaled trouble for someone, but for whom did it toll - only time would tell.}

_{He stood transfixed to the spot, caught between conflicting emotions – frantic hysteria and paralyzing fear – as he anguished over the worsening situation and his limited options. Then his face visibly dropped, the jaw slackened and the eyes were replaced by two small black shiny balls, for in a moment of clarity, he recalled, roughly, where they had 'landed', and even more importantly, the location and name of the nearest bell tower.}

_{"Oh, Crickey ! It's 'im... it HAS to be HIM !” he called back to the car and his expectant girlfriend, with the terrifying conclusion.}

_{" 'IM, WHO ?” came the slightly irritated reply.}

_{George started to run back towards the car, there wasn't any point searching now, struggling to reveal the identity of the unwelcome pedestrian, as if actually speaking the name gave it credence and substance. Finally, in a single bound, he leaped back inside the car, not bothering to close the door behind him properly, turned the engine over, threw it into gear and wildly exclaimed,} "It's The Mad Monk, Pegs ! THE MAD MONK OF MISTRY !”

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