Adam And Eve (Part 1 of 2)

Adam and Eve

 

It was a night I've spent half a lifetime trying to forget. After motoring three hundred miles through a murky October day in Nineteen Eighty Three I needed a drink or two, and then bed. I remember hearing a church clock striking Nine O clock as I drove into the town, and hour or two later than I had intended, thanks to a flat tire. I quickly found what appeared to be my designated hotel. That was the second blow of the day, for not only had a reservation not been made, but the hotel was full. And so, in a descending order of 'stars' I tried the others, then the guest houses, then the 'bed and breakfasts' then the pubs. The result in every case was the same. Full; every one; not a room to be found anywhere.

            In a back street pub I tried to bargain with the barman, hoping a 'fiver' on top might jog his memory into finding a 'forgotten' room in the attic, or the cellar, but it was no good.

            "What's going on?" I asked.

            "It's the Witches and Warlocks Festival." he replied rather quietly, almost a whisper. "Come every year they do. Take over the town. Got to book early you know."

            Well that much I knew. The editor of my local newspaper had heard about this event and had sent me to investigate. I was new and my reluctance was not enough to dissuade him.

         "You need something to get your teeth into, sharpen you up a bit. Besides, it'll be like a holiday for you." he assured me.  "A few days in Scotland; booked you into the best hotel, and I won't look too closely at your bar expenses."

            I made a mental note to question him about that, but first there was a more important question to ask. "Where was I going to sleep tonight."

            Despite the barman's inability to accommodate me I ordered a large brandy before setting out on my search. "Where's the nearest place I can find a bed then?" I asked him.

            He continued polishing a glass and then lifted it up to inspect his work and looking over its rim, with a watery eye he winked.

            "About five miles sir." he answered "Along the road out of town there's a crossroads. Gibbet Corner we call it. Turn left there then left again up a narrow lane, and them . . ." he hesitated.

            "And then what?" I prompted, rather abruptly, admittedly somewhat confused by the wink.

            "And you'll come to the old rectory. They take in paying guests so I'm told."

            I finished my drink. I was tired, it was well after ten and my options were running out. It was also very dark and raining steadily. I found the crossroads easy enough, though why it was called ‘Gibbet Corner’ it was not possible to tell. The fact that it was dark and squally; the wind causing the rain, heavy now, to beat against the car making visibility difficult; did not help at all. My concentration was on the road, looking for a sign, any sign, to get me out of the weather, and into somewhere warm and dry. Suddenly, almost weirdly, there it was, a signpost pointing to the left down a narrow road, which stated simply, but in rather old fashioned lettering ‘The Old Rectory’.

            I was pleased to find that the road to the Old Rectory, though narrow, was quite good, especially as the signpost had not indicated a distance. But my satisfaction soon changed when, without warning the road ended at a gate. A small notice, hardly readable through the streaky windscreen and the swishing rain invited me to continue on what looked like little more than a dirt track; muddy at that; to ‘The Old Rectory - 1 mile.’

 

oOo

 

One mile; I groaned. "Will this night ever end?" I was angry at the prospect of another soaking, and the real possibility of getting stuck in the mud miles from anywhere, with little prospect of help. More than that I was still unsure if accommodation was available when, or if, I reached the rectory. The gate was heavy and stiff, and had to be physically lifted to clear the deep rut where it scraped into the ground. By the time I had opened it, driven my car through, and then closed it behind I was drenched. The light from the headlights was quickly diminished by the rain. They illuminated nothing save a ghostly halo, and certainly no glimpse of a building.

         The rear lights of the car were even less helpful, casting hardly any useful  light on the scene. It was hard to imagine a more desolate place; and my joyful anticipation of a warm and comfortable room for the night seemed to be as far away as ever. Pushing gingerly forward, fearful of finding a deep rut, my face as close to the windscreen as possible to gather in what vision there was, I managed to stay on the track. When the ‘Old Rectory’ finally came into view it was with a mixture of relief and something approaching dismay, for the faintest of outlines seemed to suggest a ramshackle, almost deserted building, dingy and unlit. Unlit that is save for a single, rather dim, light in the doorway porch. Wearily I left my car and entered the porch, high and arched over a large heavy door. In the gloomy light I looked for a notice that might indicate some kind of welcome to visitors, but found none. Neither was there anything to indicate that this was indeed the Old Rectory, even though it was hard to believe it to be anything other.

            Having found no knocker, or bell, or chain, I gave the door a sharp thump with the side of my fisted hand, but despite the firmness of my action it seemed to make little sound, and produced no result. I tried once more; still without response. For long minutes no one came and I turned to go, desperate now, dreading the return journey, and resigned to spending the rest of the night in the car. As I started to move away I sensed the door opening. It was the increase of light that made me stop and turn, for that huge door was opening without a sound. Only the brightness from within, increasing as the door opened, told me that my knocking had in fact been heard.

            “Can I help you?” It was a young voice, neither male or female; or both;  emanating from a person standing in the doorway. The light behind, though not particularly bright was strong enough to create a silhouette of someone tall, slim, and long haired; but as to its gender I could not tell.

            “Can I help you?” The same question in exactly the same manner.

            “Forgive me.” I managed to answer, “I’m a little disoriented, what with the weather, and the time. I’ve been told that you have accommodation for travelers. I know it’s very late, I do hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

            “Please come in; do you have some luggage?”

            “A couple of bags in the boot.”

            I turned to retrieve my bags, but before I reached my car this young person was ahead of me. A flick on the remote had the boot springing up. A hand grabbed the bags and slammed the boot lid down almost in one continuous movement and seemingly without getting wet, was back to the porch and into the building. In the high and paneled entrance were a few armchairs and a desk. The light, which outside had been bright enough to prevent me seeing my companion’s face, now seemed rather dim. As I filled in the guest card I took the opportunity to look at his, or perhaps her, face. No attempt was made to avoid my gaze, but still I could not tell. Smooth skin and well formed features suggested my young host to be a girl, as did the longish hair. But the voice, well modulated and slightly low in tone veered towards the masculine.

            “I’ll take you to your room now.” he or she said, as my bags were retrieved from where they had been dropped.

            “Thank you.” I smiled, “Are there any other guests.”

            “Just the one. No doubt you will see him at breakfast.”

            “Yes, I’ll be ready for that.” The hint did not bring forth an offer of any late night refreshments, so I hoped I would find something in my room. I was soon to find out for the young person had stopped and was inserting a rather large key into the door. This accomplished I was ushered into a large room, furnished with old but adequate furniture. The slight coldness of high ceilings and windows, was countered by the floor length heavy curtains, and thick carpets. It was old fashioned, but on the face of it, very comfortable, and a tray on a side table was stocked with biscuits and snacks plus all that was needed to make a hot drink. A clear indication of it’s sometime, if perhaps not regular, use by visitors.

            My guide was now leaving and I turned to offer my thanks. “What should I call you,” I asked, sure in the knowledge that the little mystery would soon be solved.            

            “I’m Adam. Press the button by the bed if you need anything.”

            “Adam!” I muttered, when the door closed. At least now I knew, but curiously I felt none the wiser.

            Shortly after there was a knock on the door, which opened to reveal the young man with some towels.

            “Thank you Adam.” I smiled.

            “Adam is my brother,” came the totally unexpected reply, “I’m Eve.”

            There was no hint of a smile at what otherwise I might have taken to be a joke, or at least a lighthearted coincidence. She left, still without a smile.

 

            oOo

 

It had been a long day, the bed was inviting and tiredness sent me quickly into a deep sleep. How long I slept I do not know, but I was awoken by the sound of my door banging shut, and the figure of an elderly man leaning hard against it, trying to prevent someone on the other side, bent on gaining entrance. It was completely dark, the long heavy curtains on the inside and the blackness of the stormy night outside, allowed not the slightest hint of light, and yet I could see the man as if by some uncanny luminance. He was cowering now, unable to hold back the determined effort of whoever it was on the other side, and now the door was partially ajar. One more push sent the older man sprawling, but as he fell he looked directly at me as if appealing for my aid. But it was too late for he was immediately set upon, not by one, but two assailants both young and very sparsely dressed in what seemed almost like transparent night clothes. Ignoring his pleas and terrified cries, they struck the poor man repeatedly with short broad daggers. Once, twice, a dozen times they struck until their victim was still and lifeless.

            Throughout this frenzied attack I had been riveted to the spot. At the beginning I had raised myself, and had been able to witness the whole scene, and yet, to my shame, I had done nothing to help the frightened man. I had been paralyzed, though not just with fear. Something had held me, a force that had robbed me of all ability to move, and fear had become terror. Now it was over and the dead man’s blood was drenching the lush carpet, but the two assailants made no attempt to run. Indeed they stood side by side staring at me. This was perhaps my greatest moment of fear, for now I could see them plainly. They were clearly twins, and it was abundantly apparent that one of them was a young man, and that he was Adam. His companion, whose flimsy robes, just as they had  with her brother, failed to hide her  gender, was Eve.

            I waited, immobile, rigid, transfixed by their near nakedness, awaiting my fate convinced that shortly I too would feel the power of those knives. Inexplicably however the two attackers turned and silently walked out of the room, and the door, untouched by either of them, closed eerily behind them as they left the room. How long did I lay, silently, hardly breathing, before I dared to move I do not know, but when I did my ordeal continued. Eventually, cautiously, I eased myself from the bed and moved to where I could look at the dead man. I could not help the scream that came from me, for the face before me, with lifeless yet staring eyes and with mouth wide open, was my own.

             I fled. Everything save my shoes and coat was abandoned. Luckily my prayer that I would find my car keys in the coat were answered and in a short time I was racing headlong down the muddy track, where earlier I had been so cautious. Mercifully the rain had stopped and there was even a little moonlight to help me on my way. I did not stop at the gate, which, despite its weight and sturdiness offered little resistance when I crashed through it, and not until I reached the crossroads did I feel that I was free from that place of terror.

            But I was wrong. A shaft of moonlight, far brighter than that all around clearly illuminated what I had failed to see before. The gibbet; and hanging by their necks, were two slim young bodies with faces contorted in agony where the life had been choked out of them. I didn’t have to look twice. I knew at once that one was Adam and the other was Eve.

                        Many days passed before I dared to ask questions, but my research revealed a sorry tale. Two hundred years earlier, the pair, aged just seventeen, had been convicted of the murder of the priest. He had, they claimed, taken them in as young orphans and named them, but only for his own sake. Working them like slaves, and abusing them nightly, either sex according to his fancy he had robbed them of all dignity, and their lives. Whatever the truth of that they were hanged together on that very gibbet. The date? October, Seventeen Hundred and Eighty Three.