TALES BY FIRELIGHT - TODAY, OUR TEAM MEMBER, AUTHOR EVA BIELBY, SHARES HER SHORT 'TALES BY FIRELIGHT' STORY - 'THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT?'

THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT?

It was late September when the two couples set out on their final camping trip of the year. Now that the nights had become darker much sooner, they had prepared their camping equipment on Thursday night as it was their intention to leave home soon after work on Friday. Despite the meticulous planning by Charlotte and Amy, their early getaway had been somewhat scuppered by the two guys, who insisted on calling at the local supermarket for the obligatory cans of lager. Five thirty on Friday night in the shop however, was to say the least, challenging. It seemed as if every man and his dog (and child) were lined up in the checkout queues. The traffic delays they encountered were also an issue.

Ninety extremely fraught minutes later, darkness descended, bringing with it a thick blanket of fog. Having carefully followed the instructions of the GPS, Martin suddenly found himself driving along some old farm lane that wasn’t tarmacked. The car bounced around on the bumps and potholes and their stomachs lurched in protest.

“This can’t be right, mate.” Suggested Josh.

“Martin, can you find somewhere to turn the car around, please?” begged Charlotte. “I…I don’t like this. It’s overgrown so it can’t lead anywhere.”

“I can hardly see six feet in front of me, Charlie, and it’s not going to be any easier to turn around and drive back. We’ll find some flat ground along here to pitch the tents, though we’ll have to put them up in the light from the car headlights. It’ll be fine.”

Fifty yards further along the lane, Martin braked suddenly to avoid smashing into a five-foot drystone wall that loomed unexpectedly ahead of them in the gloom. He slowly spun the wheel around and through the dim glow of the fog lamps, he spotted a stretch of grass large and flat enough on which to pitch the tents with space in front of them to light a fire and set up the table and chairs.

“Perfect!” said Martin, breathing in a sigh of relief to have finally stopped his attempt to navigate the rutted lane in the grim, swirling fog. He turned the engine off and got out of the car.

This time, it was Amy’s turn to voice her feelings by quietly appealing to her husband once Martin left the car.

“Josh, I don’t like it here. It’s so miserable…and spooky, and I have a bad gut feeling. It’s too isolated. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Darling, it’s the fog that’s making it look spooky, nothing else. It will be exactly the same at the campsite we were going to. We’ll be fine, like Martin already said. You’ll see. I bet it’s gorgeous in the morning.”

Josh jumped out of the car to help his friend. The ladies, reluctant to join them in the impenetrable mist, watched on as Martin and Josh hurriedly erected the tents in the dank, cold air. Both well practiced after several years of camping, it didn’t take them too long to have the tents erected. Ten minutes later, they unfolded the four camping chairs and table. The men soon had a blazing fire lit and busied themselves over the two-burner stove, cooking sausages, eggs, and bacon. In no time at all, the four were sat around the fire with full bellies, sleeping bags pulled up to their chests and with a hot drink each from the thermos flasks they brought with them. Alcohol was brought from the car to follow the feast, and at last the ladies were able to relax, their gins warming them from the inside better than the hot chocolate had done.

“Are we telling stories tonight?” Amy wanted to know. “I don’t think it will be too good health wise to be out in this weather for long.”

“No need for stories,” said Josh. “I brought entertainment with us this time. Wait a few seconds. You’ll see.”

He made his way to the new tent he and Amy had purchased recently. They heard the sound of a zipper open and close; Josh’s backpack. When he emerged from the tent, he was waving a box at them.

“Here we go! I’ve been meaning to bring this before now, but better late than never, eh?”

“Oh, Josh! No! Not the bloody Ouija board. I told you to get rid of it. You know I don’t like it!” wailed Amy.

“Come on, Amy! Where’s your sense of adventure? It’ll be fun.”

Martin and Charlotte, the latter being pleasantly tipsy, seemed to agree with Josh. Amy made no more protests, so the board was set up and the planchette placed in position over the ‘G’.

“Okay. Let’s get started and no pushing you guys. Let the fun begin.”

The four of them each placed an index and middle finger lightly on the planchette and performed several clockwise circles.

“Is there anybody there?” Josh posed the question.

On repeating the question, the planchette moved to 'YES'. Barely pausing for a second, it moved again…M, U, M.

“It’s my Mum!” cried Amy, her voice filled with excitement. “It has to be. You have all still got your mothers.”

“Shhh! It’s moving again. Watch!” whispered Charlotte.

This time the planchette swiftly spelled out the words BE, CAREFUL, and LOVE, ALWAYS.

There was some hesitation from the piece for a short time before it jerked its way to D and followed by the letters I and E in quick succession.

“Die? What the…?” queried Charlie, “Are you pushing the bloody thing, Josh?”

“No, I’m not! I take this thing seriously. I wouldn’t do that.” He replied, most indignant.

 “Okay, okay. Let’s get on with it. It’s moving again.” said Martin.

Josh pointed at the board. The planchette spelled out J,A,M,E,S.

“That could be my old school friend, my bestie. He took his own life four years ago. Nobody seemed to know why, though. Tragic!” blurted Josh.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the piece moved again, spelling out each letter to form 'HELLO, DINGER'! The others needed no explanation from Josh. With his surname being ‘Bell’, his nickname in school had always been ‘Dinger’. Not so often these days, but they could all recall several occasions when some people still referred to him using the nickname. Josh decided to ask James a question:

“How are you doing, buddy? Why did you do it?”

The pointer was in action once again, spelling out I,M, O,K,A-. But it never reached the ‘Y’. The four quickly withdrew their fingers as if suddenly burned, but the thing took on a life of its own, speeding to and from each letter in quick succession.

D, I, E, T, O, N, I, G, H, T. It paused for seconds only. Y, O, U, A, L, L.

The four of them stood up, unsure of what to do. They were frozen in fear, staring at the board and planchette which continued to move, looks of pure terror and disbelief clouded the girl's faces. Worried glances passed between them.

“Josh, make it stop for Heaven’s sake! Shut the bloody thing up. Say ‘Goodnight’ or whatever it is you need to say. Just make it stop!” Amy shouted, but whatever was controlling the board returned with a vengeance.

N, O, O, N, E, L, I, V, E, S, N, O, O, N, E, and D, E, A, T, H, T, O, Y, O, U. It went on to indicate 1, 8, 5, 4.

Josh stretched out his arm tentatively, reluctant to place his body up close to the table…or the board. He placed his fingers on the planchette and tried to move it towards ‘Good Night’. Suddenly, his fingers burned again and he quickly removed them as if scorched. At a loss for what he could do next, he swept the board and pointer with the back of his hand straight into the flames. The fire crackled fiercely, its flames danced wildly, as if in anger. A long, blood-curdling scream rent the air around them for what seemed like an eternity before all was still and silent once more. Nobody said a word, but they all gazed into the fire, transfixed. After a considerable amount of time passed, one by one, they sat back down in their chairs shivering, but more from the vile and uncanny experience than the chilled air temperature.

Josh grabbed the bottle of gin the ladies had brought with them. He took a large slug before offering it to Martin, who gratefully accepted the bottle to swallow down a couple of sharp, crisp mouthfuls. Nobody said anything for a while, but a row soon broke out, led by Amy.

“I told you to get rid of the bloody thing ages ago, Josh. Why the Hell did you bring it here tonight? It’s evil. You should have known better. We came away to enjoy ourselves, not to put up with that…that shit.”

“Amy, calm down. It’s only a board game. There’s nothing in it, it’s just a bit of fun. You don’t believe all that bullshit, do you?”

“What do you think 1854 means?” asked Martin.

They all ignored him as Amy piped up again.

“So explain it to me, Josh. Which of you was pushing the thingy around the board? Explain those…those evil words it spelled out if no one was pushing it. You can’t, can you? Then the thing was moving by itself for Heaven’s sake.”

Amy was not letting the matter drop. Martin stepped in to try and diffuse the tension between the pair.

“Amy, leave it. Josh just thought it would…”

“Thought what, Martin? Come on, let’s be real here. Josh brought the board along for a different kind of entertainment.” Charlotte added her own fuel to the fire.

“Entertainment? So that’s your idea of entertainment, is it? Conjuring up pure evil?”

“Look! I wasn’t pushing the bloody thing. I promise. Don’t blame me for what happened. It wasn’t me, Amy.”

Martin had heard and had enough. He was still visibly shaken by the macabre words spelled out for them plus the shouting that ensued.

“Come on. Let’s call it a night. I’m worn out. We’ll get back on the road in the morning, first thing.”

He made his way towards their tent. Charlie didn’t move.

“I’m not sleeping in the goddamn tent, Josh. I think we should all sleep in the car tonight. Anyone else agree?” asked Amy, snatching up her sleeping bag.

Charlotte, still stunned by the whole episode, had no words left to utter. She nodded, grabbed her sleeping bag too and followed Amy to the rear passenger doors. Martin and Josh stared at each other. Together they tamped down what remained of the fire. The board had been consumed by the flames and disintegrated; it was now nothing more than hot ash. Their eyes, full of fear, kept drifting towards the fire’s remains as they folded the chairs and table in readiness for a speedy departure come morning. Weary, they collected their sleeping bags and joined the girls in the car.

Due mainly to the men’s large slugs of the spirit, they were soon fast asleep. Martin, in his driving seat and with his mouth wide open, snored lightly. The girls dozed only fitfully, their necks at uncomfortable angles with their heads leaning against the car windows.

Amy stirred from her sleep on hearing a loud grinding noise, and almost instantly, the car door was wrenched from its hinges. Before she fully realised what was happening, her body was dragged mercilessly from the car. She screamed. Charlotte woke with a start, in time to witness chunks of flesh being ripped from Amy’s body. She heard the snapping of Amy's bones by an unseen entity. Blood spurted through Amy’s torn denims, and from where the flesh and muscle had been gouged, major arteries expelled their cargo.

Charlotte drew her knees close up to her chest and backed her body tight up against the rear passenger door; cowering. She’d never believed in God for years but she found herself saying a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening. A few seconds into the prayer she realised that her efforts would be futile. They were all going to die. The board had said they would and now she believed it. She tried to scream to alert Josh and Martin, but no sound came out. She sobbed silently, tears streaming down her cheeks making them smart. Amy, at the mercy of the beast, continued to scream, but her piercing screams were fast becoming feeble. In the front of the car, Martin and Josh aroused from their drunken stupors and were vaguely aware of someone screaming. They felt the cold air encroach into the car from behind them and looked around. Martin looked out through the frame, wondering why the car was devoid of its door. He could only just make out the shape of a body - it was Amy’s broken body. He heard her pitiful sobs but there was nothing he could do to help her now. His eyes couldn’t make out who or what was carrying out the violent attack on her. The words spelled out earlier in the evening - the warnings, were now being carried out to perfection. His wife would soon be gone and he knew the rest of them would follow in her wake. Terror gripped him again as his car door was seized by an invisible force and torn from its joints with a groaning of metal.

Martin was seized and flung onto the ground, by what or whom he had no notion. He felt the power of the thing as it pounded and smashed at his trunk. Pain like nothing he’d ever experienced surged through every limb as his bones shattered under the thrust of the intangible being. His right arm was forcibly pulled from his body and discarded; flung into the night air it landed several feet away. He watched on and screamed, using up what little energy remained within him. His last thoughts and fears were for his beautiful wife… for Charlie, before he then prayed for his death to come quickly. Sadly, his prayer was not answered. The ugly and frantic onslaught continued. His left eye was ripped from its socket and forced hard into his mouth, some teeth breaking in the process. The beast was not done with Martin yet and it was another five minutes of vicious, unrelenting pain before death finally claimed him.

Having witnessed the invisible force tearing his friend apart, Josh flung his car door open in a mad panic and stumbled out into the frigid night air. Making a mad dash to Charlotte’s rear passenger door, he tugged it open and grabbed her, his best friend’s wife. He had to save her, for Martin. He owed that to his friend. They urgently needed to get far away. He heaved her rather roughly out of the car towards him. Her whole body was shaking and he didn’t even know if she could stand, let alone run. Once she was on her feet, she was unsteady so he gripped a tight hold of her hand, however, the unseen assailant was not to be deprived of its next victim. She was brutally snatched away from him in a fit of fury. He kicked and lashed out with both fists and feet, but it was to no avail. He couldn’t fight an unseen monster; an assailant invisible to his eyes. No amount of his flailing could make an impact on the powerful force. Charlie’s bones snapped and cracked before him. Her left arm was no longer attached to its hand. Handfuls of flesh and clothing were gouged out from her body, her breasts displaying what resembled deep red claw marks. Blood was seeping through her ragged clothing…everywhere. He saw her skull cave in, in what was a grotesque attack on a weakened being. There was nothing to see; no sign of the malevolent force or blunt item that could have caused such a deep indentation. It was a macabre sight, one that in his wildest dreams he couldn’t ever have imagined he would have the misfortune to witness. No further sound came from her. She was beyond help. Charlie was dead.

Josh tried to run but it was nothing more than a hurried, drunken stagger; a lurch. The alcohol had taken its toll on his body. Thirty yards down the lane, breathless and panic-stricken, Josh stumbled in a muddy pothole and landed flat on his face, his nose breaking on impact. Unable to push himself up onto his knees, after a couple of attempts he became resigned; he laid there and awaited his fate. He didn’t want to run after all; he was the one who had brought the board and he was the one who unwittingly unleashed the entity. He was the guilty party. He deserved what was coming: death. He felt the presence of the demon looming close; the unveiled threat as it bore down upon him. He screamed inwardly as he waited for the inevitable pain to wrack through his body. His suffering was a long drawn out and excruciating affair before death finally took him...the last of them.

Daybreak arrived and the fog lifted to form a haze in the early morning sunshine. An eerie silence filled the air. The tents were both ripped, one of them unceremoniously draped over the drystone wall. Beyond the wall lay the long-forgotten cemetery with its desecrated gravestones, mounds of earth at the side of graves that had been dug up, gravestones smashed and defiled with graffiti, graffiti that was blood red in colour. The words were almost identical to those spelled out, seemingly in anger, on the now destroyed Ouija board. Beyond the smashed up graves, there stood the remains of the old cemetery-keeper’s lodge, the roof caved in, slates broken and surrounded by the remains of the walls. Standing proud and strangely still intact amidst the fallen slates was the old clock tower, the clock’s corroded pointers poised at twelve o’clock.

Three broken and mutilated bodies lay near the damaged tents. The chairs were broken and lay where they had landed after being tossed away. The car, minus two doors, was in a sorry state. Some clothes and other belongings, at first appearance, would look to have been strewn around the campsite haphazardly, yet they formed a crude Satanic symbol. The fourth and last, grossly disfigured body lay thirty yards away down the lane. Their hideous remains would not be discovered before springtime. For over forty years, no one other than the farmer who owned the land had dared to venture within one mile of the area, and certainly not after dark. The farmer performed a twice yearly cut of the grass - spring and autumn, but only with a group of neighbouring farmers with their tractors and grass-cutters accompanying him. The bodies of the campers would provide sustenance in the coming winter for the rats and other wildlife in the vicinity. All that would likely remain of the four come springtime would be bones.

© Eva Bielby 2025

COMING SOON: On Wednesday 25th June, our guest author, Lisa Martin, shares Chapter 4 of her novel, 'The Cornish Retreat'.