On the Moors
"Anything?" Bodie asked, his voice sounding eerily loud in my ears. I shook my head, still staring intently at the engine in my Capri. The engine was shiny and new – I had finally managed to convince my local garage to replace the old one after it suffered a disagreement with a stray bullet – so there shouldn't have been any problems. Actually, there weren't any problems, except the tiny one that it wouldn't turn on. Suddenly I registered that Bodie was speaking to me, his tone exasperated.
"Hmm? Sorry?"
"I said," Bodie repeated, "anything?"
I shut the bonnet and grinned sheepishly at him, realising that he hadn't been able to see me when I'd gestured. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning at me.
"I mean nothing, as in zilch, nada, nil! It's one of the most perfect engines I've ever seen."
"Are you sure?"
"Bodie, I've been fiddling with this for the last twenty minutes," I rubbed ineffectually at the oily streak down my cheek, presenting it as evidence, "and I can't find anything wrong with it." Bodie swung his legs out of the car and stood up, straightening up with small groan. With a jolt, I realised that the mist had really come down since we'd halted – I couldn't see more than three or four metres on either side of the narrow road.
"So what do we do?" he asked.
I shrugged, "call it in?" Somehow I was half expecting his answer.
"No signal. I'd guess we're walking then." It turned out I was only half expecting it.
"Walk?" I managed to curb the rise in pitch marginally. Bodie grinned evilly at me.
"Yes Raymond," he said, "Walk. You've got legs don't you? Unless you're scared of the dark?"
Somehow, the sharp rejoinder didn't quite make it to my mouth and ended up coming out as, "N-no!" Bodie laughed and reached out to pat my head condescendingly.
"Aww, is widdle Waymond afwaid of some big scwary monster?"
"Gerroff Bodie! I'm not scared!"
"Then…?" he tilted his head to one side.
Pursing my lips, I took a moment to steady my voice before answering, "Bodie, its dark. It's foggy. We can't see more than a few metres ahead of us, we don't know the area and – and we're surrounded by a bloody marsh!"
"C'mon Ray…" Bodie was giving me a funny look, "we've been in worse situations before -"
"They weren't avoidable!"
"And you're the one who was always telling me not to complain," he finished smoothly. "What's so different about here?"
"Nothing." I replied firmly, making sure to meet his eyes. Bodie sighed and then shrugged.
"No phone Raymond," he reminded me, "and we're missing some pretty birds at the Halloween party."
"No." I repeated.
Somehow, even with my adamant protests, ten minutes later we were trudging through the swamp along the muddy track, equipped in woolly scarves, hats and two powerful torches. Bodie was vocally complaining about the damage the mire was doing to his dress trousers ("my favourite pair!") and several times I had to bite my tongue to stop from lashing out at him. If he didn't want to wreck his clothes - ! My irritation was very quickly overshadowed by an intense, creeping feeling of uneasiness. The fog was oppressive, slithering insidiously over every inch of ground and wrapping icy fingers around our legs. I would swear it had got heavier.
Very soon we were no longer trudging, we were slipping and sliding – twice now my legs had gone right from under me and deposited me ungracefully into a putrid puddle of watery mud. The party was a second priority in my mind now, what I really wanted was a hot shower – preferably surrounded by as much light as possible. Even Bodie had stopped his grumbles by now, just plunging ahead with the same determination as he displayed during an op.
We halted for a quick breather and Bodie turned to me. "What's up, mate? You're acting like you're about to be jumped by the Hound of the Baskervilles."
"Wrong place," I shot back, my jokey tone far too forced, "that was Dartmoor and we're in Norfolk."
"Then what's wrong?"
"Are you seriously telling me that you're not creeped out by… by all this?" I asked incredulously, waving my arm towards the expanse of swamp around us. Bodie twitched a smile.
"No really. I've been in worse places. Like Africa for –"
"Well, I haven't," I snapped. Seeing Bodie's hurt expression I elaborated, "My granny used to live up here. We'd always visit her around Halloween and the stories she would tell…"
Bodie chuckled, "you're afraid of ghost stories?"
"Just… never mind!" I strode off in front of him, almost falling again, jamming my free hand in my pocket. Bodie caught up with me fairly quickly. He reached forwards and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
"Sorry Ray – "
"It's ok; just… let's find that damned pub." Bodie's gaze suddenly switched from my face to something over my right ear. "What?"
"There's a light." I turned to look – and felt all my blood drain from my face.
A glowing white light bobbed up and down coming across the moor as if someone was carrying it. From this distance the shadowy mass beside it was almost indistinguishable, but I knew it was there as sure as I knew my name. I knew what it was. It was the most frequent player in my childhood nightmares, an apparition that haunted the spare room that I slept in with the same intensity that it haunted the moors.
"Doyle? Ray? Are you ok?" Bodie was shaking me, staring at me, "answer me mate. You've gone as white as a sheet. Ray? What is it?"
"The Lantern Man." I breathed, closing my eyes. "Oh God no…"
"Ray? It's just a bit of sw –"
"Don't!" I almost shrieked the command. "Shut up!"
"What? You know it's not –"
"Don't mock the Lantern Man!" I glanced down at the torches in our hand. "And put out the light!" I flung the torch away – still lit. It landed on the ground some metres away from us, the bulb smeared with mire. Bodie stared at me in dumbfounded amazement. I was hyperventilating now. The ball of light had increased its speed, coming towards us. I snatched Bodie's torch from his hand and smashed the OFF button. The light flickered and then extinguished.
"What's the Lantern Man?" Bodie demanded, I turned my gaze on him and he stepped back, staring at me. "Ray…?"
"Run." I ordered. "Just run. Don't look back!"
There must have been something in my stance, or my voice, or my eyes because Bodie obeyed me. Maybe it was all three. We ran. We ran like the hounds of hell were chasing us – I ran like it was the Lantern Man. I risked a look over my shoulder. The Lantern Man was attacking the torch I'd thrown, kicking it with all his worth. Inwardly I gave a sigh of relief – and then the torch went out. With an unearthly hiss, the head of the shadow-man came up and I saw it spot us. Then I saw it start to run, the lantern in his hand bouncing crazily as he sprinted towards us – unlike us, he was unhindered by the wet underfoot. I heard Bodie gasp, "I see the pub!" A new flash of energy fuelled by terror surged through my muscles and I doubled my pace. But still behind us was the Lantern Man. Suddenly Bodie slipped and fell, hitting the ground with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. I skidded to a stop about three metres away. Bodie was pulling himself up, wincing, his lip speckled with blood where he had bitten it. He was hurt. I glanced up. Too close. Too fast. The Lantern Man was almost upon him.
"Bodie!" I yelled, "Lie face first on the ground and hold your breath!" He looked at me uncomprehendingly. "Then when it's gone get to the pub!" He started to protest, a look of dawning horror in his eyes. "Do it! Do it now!" The Lantern Man was close enough that I could see his pale, glowing eyes, the exact same shade of the ghostly lantern he carried. I broke away from the path, veering off into the clutches of the moor, whistling as long and as loud as I could. The nightmare's head snapped away from Bodie and centred on me instead. Then I was off, my heart pumping, my lungs screaming as I whistled again and again and again. He came after me. The mire's filthy fingers dragged at my jeans, winding around my ankles. If I could get enough distance between me and Bodie…
Without warning, my foot plunged through a thin covering of grass into cold, clinging water. My body followed suit and I fell, my arms flailing for purchase that didn't exist. The water closed over my head and I kicked up, breaking through the blanket of gripping weeds. I scrabbled at the closest bank, clumps coming off in my hands. The light blazed out of nowhere and skeletal hands gripped my head and forced it down – down – down into the murky water. I screamed, borne out of desperation and fear, the bubbles barely breaking the surface. I could just make out the face of all my nightmares cackling at me as I thrashed helplessly underneath the water.
I needed to breathe…
Needed to breathe…
To breathe…
Breathe…
…
..
.
This story came about on Halloween when I was trading ghost stories with one of my friends. I was winning, having recounted several tales about Irish and Scottish phantoms. Then she asked me if I knew about the Lantern Man. I'd heard of will 'o wisps of course, but I'd never found them scary because they were easy to avoid. The Lantern Man, however, is far more malevolent and will actively try to kill you – it was little wonder that it spooked me severely. Most of the ghosts and faeries I know about will leave you alone if you leave them, so the Lantern Man is a whole other story. But my friend told me the four rules that will help you escape his clutches.
1. Don't carry a lamp or torch, he is attracted to it.
2. Don't whistle, again, attraction.
3. Don't mock the Lantern Man otherwise he will follow you off the moor and 'torch-up' outside your home.
4. And finally, if you are caught in the light, lie on the ground face first and hold your breath. One of the things the Lantern Man will do is take your breath away so this will protect you.
Later that night I was challenged by another friend to write a horror story for the Professionals and naturally the Lantern Man story popped into my head. So here it is. I hope its worthy and I'm sorry it's late!
Ynit.