The Lost Treasure Map Series (7 page)

He then switched off the light, and stopped
at the window to glare out at the dark trees.

In the distance, a haunting glow
illuminated, strangely cast around an animal-like shape, through
mist, as if the moon were beaming from behind some beast.

The shape randomly drifted through the mist.
Its movements roaming, as if searching for something.

He then heard the low chanting whispers that
he had heard in the other room, before the other had sounds
emerged. As if the wind were blowing gently against all the castle
windows. Then as if it were emerging out of nowhere, with no
particular source. And as if phantoms were flying about the ancient
castle.

With the light
switched off, he rested in bed, and glared out at the dark wood at
the front of the castle.

He heard
a distant croak, like from a rook watching there from somewhere. He
could not detect where it was. It was too dark! There were no
lights anywhere.
It was strange, as there was no
streetlight, and no glowing sky of the city.

Chapter 17

Celestial Wonderland

Specks of light
endlessly glittered, as though he were floating in a celestial
wonderland, with no thoughts or cares. Finally, free of all his
depressing disturbances.

A curtain of
mist occasionally appeared beneath him.

A glow
illuminated it, strangely casting an animal-like shadow from him,
through the mist, as if the moon were huge and beaming lunar rays
from behind him.

He had a mild
perception of dreaming, but it was like no dream that he could
recall. It was so lifelike that he could not even imagine being in
bed. He had no real thoughts, and his attempt to imagine things in
it failed.

For a moment,
he believed that he was floating over the clouds, with the world
below.

Low chanting
whispers created a hypnotic effect.

In the
distance, a shape randomly drifted through the mist. Its movements
endlessly roaming about, shifting towards him, as though searching
for something.

It was slow,
and he was so tired that when it reached him, he did not entirely
perceive its presence.

His radiant
celestial surroundings filled with shapes, like flying phantoms,
moaning and wailing.

While their
eerie murmurs grew loud and vicious, a sensation of great danger
mesmerized him ...

He silently
shrieked as he awoke. The darkness of the room instantly blinding
him, and he endeavored to pierce it with his weary eyes. However,
as he awoke more, he realized that there was nothing there, but
there were silent sounds howling through the corridor.

He jumped from
the bed, throwing the blankets out of his way, darting at where he
remembered the switch was – and instantly clicked on the light.

His mind was
full of horror at what he was hearing and from what he had
experienced, and he realized that the events had happened
again.

A loud knock,
from behind him, rattled a chair against the wall.

Bryson
unlocked the door. The two psychic investigators were standing in
the corridor.

“
What in
the hell is
that
?” he
grumbled, confused, while something resembling a scream wailed
out.

They stood
together as a thud rhythmically grew, in the distance, shaking his
clock.

Merton stood
steady. “By the way that they alter and new ones emerge make it
certain that whatever they are – they are authentic. But what we
are listening to is presently beyond our perception ...”

A dark figure
edged out of blackness in the passage.

“
What in
god’s creation is that?” Inspector Bailey disclosed, as he held his
trousers and shirt on him.

He wandered
about the corridor listening to the distant wails, as if spirits
were screaming in agony, burning in the flames of hell.

Chapter 18

Ancient Terrors

The something
screamed in agony – completely panic-stricken, suffocating, or
something, in something.

Merton and
Mortimer monitored their equipment, while three scientists rushed
about activating switches and altering controls, while new sounds
escalated.

There were
horrors in the shadows, and the outer dark bottom floor corridor
now looked like a place that Bryson would rather not be near – even
though it would be a more comfortable place to be with its outer
silence.

The night had
crept by, and he was starting to feel the after-effects of the
staying awake and the cold – making him feel drowsy, with a slight
headache.

“
You
were right about it being an active zone – whatever ‘an active
zone’ is!” Mortimer grunted towards Merton and Bryson.

Bryson
imagined them putting a sign on the door reading: KEEP OUT –
RESEARCH PROJECT!

“
Is
there anything
different
though?” Bryson asked.

“
As far
as I can see there apparently is nothing ... The sounds changing
have confused things though, as I’m unable to accurately establish
if they are louder here, or, in fact, more silent.”

“
We can
easily check by going upstairs!”

“
Okay,
let’s take that up there then.”

Mortimer took
a mental note of the levels on a monitor, places that he had put
microphones, and he quickly packed it into its case. He then led
them out of the door, and carefully marched through the dark
corridor, listening to the sounds from the room behind him.

They remained
the same, and Bryson noted that he heard them reappear at the same
distance away, when they made their way along the second floor.

Once in the
room, it was obvious that they were about the same, but Mortimer
insisted in setting up the machine in the exact same way.

“
It’s
about the same!” he eventually moaned, still looking confused, but
standing with his hands on his hips, carefully considering all the
possibilities left (which was not much).

“
This
explains why there were no signs of anything,” Bryson said
excitedly. “There were no real temperature changes! And nothing
indicating the presence of anything. And, what is more, the sounds
never
responded
to us
... or to anything that’s apparently happening.”

“
Where
is it
occurring? There is no noticeable difference in the
volume!”

“
What’ll
we do?” Bryson continued.

“
Let’s
leave it! I need time to think ... We need time to think! We can
discuss it back at the room, or at some other time ...”

Chapter 19

The Light in the Woods

Merton stood,
glaring in front of him, with his back to a blazing log fire,
watching Mortimer, sitting at a small table, directly under the
light.

His
shirtsleeves were at his elbows, and there was a pair of glasses
hanging over his nose. In his hand he held a pair of pliers.

Bryson’s
entrance briefly disturbed him, but he continued working at the
machine, opened up and sprawled across the table.

Bryson
strolled over to the window, examining the equipment, and the
places that they had placed it.

“
There’s
something strange about this place!” he revealed to them,
mesmerized by the blackness outside, at the edge of his
eyes.

“
Something
strange,
” Merton
muttered indecisively, “
about this place
.”

“
This
place is not like any
haunted
castle that I have ever heard about!”

“
It is
different from anything I can recall,” Mortimer spoke, briefly
looking up at the wall, behind the bed.

“
What
happened over there?” Merton asked, referring to the police cars
out of the window.

“
Oh!
Just one of the servants being killed ...!”

“
Killed!
How did she die?”

“
Of
course, she was strangled to death – the usually!”

“
My
god!” Mortimer remarked. “One of the servants was killed somewhere.
Where was she killed?”

“
Her
body was found under the rubbish, in one of the bins, along from
the kitchen.”

“
How did
that happen ...? How did the person manage to kill someone with
everyone about? Do they have any suspects?”

“
I don’t
know. We went out ... They do not seem to know who did it ...
That’s why Inspector Bailey and two of his policemen are staying
here!”

“
We were
going to go along there, but we changed our minds.”

“
That’s
not all!
Something
chased
us through the wood.”

“
What do
you mean?” Mortimer said, looking up in surprise. “What did it
resemble?”

“
It was
too dark! We were returning from a walk in the wood, over there,
and some type of disturbance ... A beast ... Creatures ... An
entity ... It came after us. We escaped from it ... By a
hairbreadth!”

At the window,
he glimpsed something, like a light shining from something, within
the depths of the wood. Though it could have been the moon beaming
through a gap in the clouds, onto the snow, he knew that it must be
the light that they had encountered there.

Bryson
recalled, when they fled from the wood, that there were other
creature-like noises in the surrounding trees – including the
peculiar whistles.

The police
cars, hidden in the dark, about the front, were so unreal – as
though they were part of the set up of a television programme – as
though they were there to create an illusion of realism.

How would they
handle the things that took place? They might not bother showing
the wall and its sounds. Nobody would believe that they were not
sounds created by them – it could come across as a joke.

There were
faint voices, then footsteps; and when he did not hear anything
else, he looked.

In the light
from a police car’s headlights, two policemen stood having a
discussion, conferring over some particular point.

He tried
reading their lips, checking their behavior, noticing any signs of
anything, but it was no use. And one of them showed signs of being
aware of his presence, seeing him in the light at the window, and
then repeatedly turned his head sideways to see him. Bryson
eventually just turned his back to them.

What would
happen if they told them about the things in the wood? Surely they
could not leave it!

How dangerous
were they anyway? He was believing that they were paranormal things
that not even the army could handle, and that they were best
leaving them alone; and just to investigate them. They were doing
the police a favor by not involving them. It would only confuse
matters further, if they did exist. It also might mean more
deaths.

He tried to
imagine it as a real, normal thing. And the sounds from living
animals.

Would they
leave a killer lion roaming freely through the woods, ready mall
any people that happened to be passing?

The region was
a perfect hiding place for something – if it had the instinct to
stay away from humans.

He was
determined to leave things, so he could carefully determine what to
do, instead of rushing in, and ruining things.

A bang from
the car door captured his attention, and he saw the two policemen
in the car, in the light in the interior. The one in the driving
seat then bent his head down, observing the key, and the roar of
its engine interrupted the outer silence.

Why had it
vanished, when they had approached the castle? Why had it not tried
to enter the castle, if it had been as bloodthirsty as it had
seemed? Why did it not attack them during the day? What was it?
What real origins had it?

There had to
be a way of destroying it, before something serious occurred. It
might someday confront the new owner of the castle.

He could not
imagine anyone staying confined to the castle, without going out
there.

Bryson could
tell that Mortimer was now upset; his behavior gave it away – he
restlessly thought deeply, while he worked. He was probably
desperately thinking of a way to draw more than just noises from
the wall. Not many people these days would believe what they had
acquired, with all the sound recording studios and computer
equipment available (it would not be hard to produce something like
it).

He was sure
that it would just be like one of the many hazy pictures of ghosts,
Loch Ness monsters, and flying saucers.

Even though it
was a fascinating project, beyond their wildest dreams, he was sure
that they were losing confidence in anything else taking place.
They hardly believed his account of what had happened in the
wood.

Merton seemed
more satisfied believing that he had exaggerated what it was. He
said little, and gave away very little, about what he thought. He
stood for a long time, just absorbing the warmth of the fire,
occasionally keeping it burning, listening to Mortimer trying to
repair some part of the machine.

They seemed to
ignore his antics over it, perhaps being professional. They had
never heard of the phenomenon.

If he could
only think of a way to force their attention onto the phenomenon
... He could pretend that he saw a werewolf or something, which
would more than grab their attention.