the teinde to Hell, one of Simon's

 a good creepy one

The Teinde to Hell

 

 

The pub was an old building, half timbered and with exposed beams on the low ceiling of the bar. A fire burned in the large fireplace and the thick walls kept out the chill from the blustery wind outside. The customers talked and drank with one another in a comfortable and companionable fug. One table in the corner was occupied by two men, pint mugs in front of them. The features of the men were enough alike to proclaim them relatives although very different in ages. The older of the pair had white hair and a weatherbeaten complexion and sat in a high backed wooden chair shiny with the patina of age. The much younger man sat on a less comfortable chair with his back to the door.

 

Abruptly, the pub's door opened, admitting a gust of wind and a young woman. Her winter clothing was in russets and greens and her hair, buffeted by the wind was a golden blond colour. As the door blew closed, seemingly by the wind, the occupants of the pub turned towards the newcomer. As they looked the woman's hair fell into an artistic disarray that would be the envy of the most expensive Parisian salon. Her eyes were green and her face had a gamine and somewhat wild beauty and as she undid her coat a trim and attractive figure was revealed.

 

Almost as one the males hastened forward to assist the new arrival. 

 

"Don't." Said the old man to the young one seated next to him at the corner table, laying a hand on his arm as he started to rise. "She's trouble."

 

"What do you mean Great-uncle Peter? Just because she's young and gorgeous?"

 

"No. She's here looking for someone, and I don't want it to be you, Terry."

 

"How can you know that? She's a stranger, I've never seen her before."

 

"I have, many times. She wears a different face each time, but her eyes are always the same."

 

"You're drunk!"

 

"No. I've been drinking, you know that, but I never get drunk, I wish to the Lord I could sometimes."

 

"If you can't get drunk why have you been practically living in the pub recently?" Asked Terry.

 

"I was waiting for her, I knew she'd be coming."

 

"How could you possibly know that?"

 

"Do you remember that old madman who was found wandering in the forest last year?" Peter asked.

 

"Oh yes, he couldn't speak could he? Completely out of his mind, poor man."

 

"I don't think there would be any fingerprint records to confirm it, but I'm sure it was Gerald your second cousin." Said Peter. "The one who disappeared the same year you started secondary school, that you had that long bus journey to get to."

 

"Gerald? But he was 18 when he vanished, he'd be 24 or 25 last year, not an old man. Anyway, what's that got to do with the girl?" Terry asked.

 

"A year after an old madman, or the body of an old man turns up," replied Peter, "she turns up, at about this time of year, the autumn equinox."

 

"You're raving, Great-uncle, I think you've gone senile. Anyway, how do you know it's Gerald?"

 

"Gerald used to wear ear-rings." Said Peter. "Do you remember he got into a fight with that incomer, one ear-ring got ripped off and he lost a piece of his right earlobe? The old man had an identical piece missing. The first  madman I remember turned up 50 years ago. I recognised him from a birthmark on his neck. That was put down to coincidence. She turned up a year later."

 

"Why haven't you said something?"

 

"And end up in the same asylum poor Gerald ended up in? Talk sense Terry. Ah, I think she's picked her prey."

 

A tall, handsome, well dressed young man had effortlessly insinuated himself through the crowd of men to end up next to the girl.

 

"You don't want to bother with these losers, darling," his loud, brash voice proclaimed. "You should be talking to the most interesting man for miles around. Which is me." He added with a grin.

 

"James Hasledean, that arrogant git!" Terry said bitterly.

 

"Yes, arrogant, cocksure, dynamic, full of energy and a bit stupid. Just her type. And fertile, of course. If village gossip about certain pregnancies is correct, which it usually is."

 

"You want cider, darling?" Hasledean's voice boomed out. "It’s alright for a woman, but a man drinks beer." He carried the drinks over to an unoccupied table, obviously expecting the girl to follow, which she did.

 

"She doesn't like beer, finds it bitter. She only drinks cider." The old man murmured.

 

"How do you know all this Great-uncle?"

 

"Many years ago, I was tall, handsome, full of life and a bit stupid. She came in the pub, an unescorted woman was a rarity in those days. I went over to her and brashly asked her what she was drinking. We got to talking, as she and James are talking now. I know it sounds stupid, but I fell in love with her, there and then, unlike Hasledean who I suspect has fallen in lust with  her. I don’t think he loves anyone but himself. I've seen his type, many times. She said her name was Meave but the name changes as does the face. I held her hand then we looked into each other's eyes and I saw … a forest. Trees, endless trees and … I don't know how to explain this in words, but I saw vistas of time stretching far, far back. I don't know what she saw, but she recoiled from me as if she'd been burnt.

 

She left the pub like the devil himself was after her. I got a lot of teasing about that. She came back to the pub two days later and left with the man with the birthmark on his neck. George his name was, George Anderson. He was the madman I recognised six years later.

 

"I've often wondered why she did recoil, and I have an idea. You know we're a large family?"

 

"Yes, we must be related to half the village." Replied Terry.

 

"Your grandfather, my older brother and I had five other brothers, most dead by now. Our father was the youngest of ten children, seven of them boys."

 

"So, you're …"

 

"The seventh son of a seventh son, yes Terry. That seems to have some … benefit, I don’t know how to put it. What colour is her hair?"

 

"Golden blond, like a wheatfield."

 

"You don't see a green sheen then? Maybe it's just me. She is however, the most alluring woman I've ever met." Peter added in a soft voice.

 

"You never married, did you  Great-uncle?"

 

"No. As I said, I fell in love with Meave and no woman could ever compare with her in my mind. She is however, utterly dangerous."

 

"If you know what's going to happen aren't you going to do something, warn James?"

 

"He wouldn't listen Terry. I tried to warn Gerald, I followed him out of the pub to try to remonstrate. The next thing I remember is waking up on the path with a bump on the head and incipient hypothermia. Besides, James is an incomer and as you succinctly described him, a git. Better him than another."

 

As James and his pickup got up from their table and left the pub, arms around each other's waists, the girl glanced over to the two men, one old, one young, seated together at a table. They both saw in those green eyes countless eons of time, and the merciless gaze of a predator. What she saw neither man could say, but she almost dragged James out of the door in her haste to leave.