General Chat

The pale moonlight bathed the skeletal branches of the silver birch trees with a baneful glow. A gentle but persistent breeze sussurated through the thin boughs, making them dance a macabre salsa and casting a faint moving shadow over the faces of the little group of people in the entrance of the abandoned church. Tombstones pointed accusingly skywards, some fallen in a chaotic jumble of slabs whilst others stood in stark contrast against the luminescence of the streetlights from the nearby village.

Norbert Jones checked his luminous watch and glanced at his wife, Dot. She met his look with an almost imperceptible nod of her head and he glanced at the remainder of the group. An elderly couple, Sid and Floss, sat in folding picnic chairs, their legs covered with tartan rugs in defence against the evening chill, flasks of hot coffee to hand and Tupperware containers of sandwiches at the ready. A young couple, Brad and Elsie, dressed in the distinctive garb of Goths eagerly scanned the vicinity and a serious faced young man called Eric readied his electro-magnetic flux and multi-dimensional apparition detector. The party was completed by Vladimir Marschild, real name Albert Hawkins. Vlad was a renowned psychic and his purpose was to communicate with the restless spirits that wandered the old graveyard at the witching hour.

As if on cue, an owl screeched, making them all start and suddenly Norbert stretched his arm out to point to a wispy figure amongst the trees. As they watched, it seemed to float along the ground before disappearing behind a pile of burnt out netto trolleys. Everyone jumped to their feet, straining to catch a glimpse of the ghostly apparition. It reappeared suddenly, rising from behind an old sofa then sank back, as if into its earthly grave.

A collective release of breath was audible and Norbert said ‘Right, that’s it for tonight. Dot will collect the money and we’ll see you next week, same time’. They collected their digital orb catching cameras and assorted ghost investigation equipment together, shouldered their Argos day sacks and trudged off along the path to the car park, the dim beams of their rechargeable torches lighting the way. An excited mumble of chat accompanied their progress.

Meanwhile, at the sign of the Burglars Dog, Norris Trumpet entered the brightly lit convivial interior and ordered a pint of bitter. His muddy boots left a trail of dog egg debris on the carpet, but he was a good customer and the landlord wasn’t bothered.

To be continued……


Copyright remains with author. Any unauthorised reproduction will be dealt with severely. Uzbekistan law applies.

:-)

xx

Brilliant Eldrick. Can't wait for the next instalment.

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

you have such a talent x

About time we saw some more of your creativity Eldrick. Welcome back

love it. next bit plz.

*genuflects in the presence of the master of modern writing*

Sue x

ELDRICK






NOW AM I GONNA EARN A BOB OR TWO
MMMM WONDER CAN I CLAIM LOSS OF EARNINGS

In Stitches mate !!!!!

slaps Maggie hard for suggesting Eldrick join the Writers group lol ...are you mad woman? lol I have enough of an inferiority complex as it is ;)

But Eldrick, you would be most welcome there lol...even if I have to slit my throat over the apparent ease with which you write;)

xx

.........ha ha ha,,,brillo,,,,,,,,,

as ever.~~~~just whats needed..

YES
The stories are back
Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
xx

sits waiting for the next bit

thread duly marked for reading...

Just had a little sneaky at part 2......its a blinder lolololol

Good work Mate!

Welcome back!


xxxxx mick

:-)))))

welcome back,
looking forward to next instalment.
kay

Nice one Eldrick.......................x