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Three Mile Drove, Chapter Five (standard:horror, 3009 words) [6/29] show all parts | |||
Author: Brian Cross | Added: Jun 04 2006 | Views/Reads: 2929/2179 | Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
Continuation of a completed horror story | |||
THREE MILE DROVE CHAPTER FIVE Darren guided his vehicle warily back along the narrow drove, paying particular attention to the area from which he thought the missile was thrown. Of course, he couldn't see a thing out there, everything was in total darkness. Total darkness that was, apart from a faint light that flickered somewhere off to his right. His curiosity aroused, he slowed the Jeep to a crawl. The glimmer was coming from an upstairs window of a house some distance back from the road, though the light was so faint and wavering that it had to be candlelight. Jesus, he thought, did everyone in the outback do without electricity. The concept was as unreal to him as the landscape. He soon found out that that wasn't the case, as approaching the top of the drove he saw to his right, the bright lights of a double fronted bungalow. Both sets were on, he could see the chandeliers gleaming, and the laced curtains were tied back. He'd not seen the place when he was driving in, but that was presumably because he was too intent on reaching his destination. Positioned where it was however, it did provide the barren area with at least an element of respectability. By contrast to what he'd just experienced, the home lights of the village looked cosy and welcoming as he drove into it. Darren considered that the most knowledgeable source of information at this hour was likely to be provided by the landlord of the pub in the village centre, providing that was, because of his appearance he didn't think he as a newly arrived vagrant who couldn't afford the price of a pint, let alone a night's accommodation. As he turned towards the car park Darren thought about the attractive dark haired woman he'd met briefly a couple of hours earlier. He wondered whether she might be in the pub now. If so, he wouldn't want her to see him in such a dishevelled state, but the simple fact that he should be thinking in such a way brought a flush of colour to his cheeks. Why should it matter to him in any case? He'd always regarded himself as the rough and ready kind, so just why was he thinking in such a manner? He searched for a logical reason and thought he'd come up with one. He was tired he decided. This was a strange environment to say the least, and all he was experiencing was the need of a friendly face to make him feel less alienated. Fine, but he couldn't convince himself of that. There were one or two cars in the car park as he pulled in, though no trace of the white Vauxhall Astra he'd seen her heading for earlier. He walked through the main entrance and swung right, opening the door to the bar he'd been into earlier. She wasn't inside, neither were the four farm-hands who'd regarded him so suspiciously earlier. Now the clientele appeared to consist of mainly elderly people, the eyes of most of whom became fixed on him as he limped in. ‘What can I get you?' the barman, a large, stout, balding man wearing an old brown sweater, interrupted his conversation with two old men sitting on stools, and eyed him warily. Darren noticed how the general hum of conversation had dropped away as though an invisible “quiet please” board had been placed in the bar. He felt his blood rising, what was it with these people that a solitary stranger could cause so much curiosity, and it seemed resentment? Alright, he might look scruffy, but no more so than the four yokels he'd met earlier. Were these people relics from a bygone age or was he the one who'd suddenly been plunged back in time? ‘I'll have a pint of bitter,' Darren muttered, forgetting for a moment why he'd come, then almost as an afterthought, ‘I'm looking for accommodation for the night, do you know of anywhere?' The barman tilted the glass and levered the pump. He sighed as if he'd been asked the million quid question, ‘You can try the Fox and Hounds at the crossroads, it's the only place you'll find around these parts. Click here to read the rest of this story (258 more lines)
This is part 6 of a total of 29 parts. | ||
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Brian Cross has 33 active stories on this site. Profile for Brian Cross, incl. all stories Email: briancroff@yahoo.co.uk |