The Miracle of Maldon (Part Three of Three)

You can read part one at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/miracle-maldon-part-one-three

You can read part two at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/miracle-maldon-part-two-three

The Miracle of Maldon (Part Three of Three)

Freddy took a small torch from his trouser pocket.

“I can’t see her. No point in worrying about attracting her attention.” He flicked the switch on top of the flashlight and a beam of light lit the way ahead.

“Not sure about this. Maybe we should go back. Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Danny looked worried as well as being cold. He questioned the sanity of venturing out into an area people had been told not to go after dark. It seemed like a good idea at the time but maybe catching criminals should be left to the authorities. The options of discovering that the old woman was either a murderer, witch or even both had become unappealing. Besides, who else was out here at this time of night?

“Let’s go a bit further. If we don’t see her soon then we’ll go.” Freddy was a strong character and considered to be a born leader amongst his friends and teachers.

They stumbled on for what felt like hours. Just as they were about to turn back, trees separated and a clearing came into view. Mist drifted across the ground, covering the open expanse. The old woman was still nowhere to be seen. Blurred objects poked through the layers of fog. Freddy and Danny exchanged curious looks and stealthily made their way towards the shapes. The site became clearer as they neared. There were three, old gravestones in the middle of nowhere.

“What the f-?!“Exclaimed a surprised Danny.

They both stooped lower to see if there was anything etched on the tombstones. The grass was wet with dew, moisture permeating the atmosphere enhancing a creeping sensation of dread. The headstones were interred in the ground with no grave bed to accompany them. Moss and lichen obscured much of their surfaces. These markers had been here a long time. Whilst there was an epitaph on each stone of marble, the words were indecipherable, worn away by rain and wind over the years.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Freddy whispered as though someone else would overhear.

“Three kids missing, three graves in the middle of the woods. But they look as though they have been here for centuries.” Danny was the voice of reason and his late-night logic was not lost on his friend.

As they stood again wondering what to do next, the sound of a branch breaking broke their reverie. They edged in the direction of the noise, unsure of whether they wanted to find out what the source of the commotion was.

A few yards on from the clearing, a shanty hut was leaning against a thickset tree, surrounded by tangled undergrowth. Tendrils wrapped around the flimsy structure hiding it from the outside world. Muffled sounds were coming from inside. The boys approached with caution, Freddy being the braver and taking the lead. The wooden construction had an opening at the side where a window once was. Freddy crouched down and peered over the ledge to see inside. In the gloom he could see a jumble of bodies shifting about. One of them was Sarah who was lying against one of the walls. She was elbowing a man next to year who looked like he was encroaching on her space.

“They’re just a bunch of winos.” Whispered Danny. The boys hadn’t anticipated discovering anyone other than Sarah. Now that they were confronted by a group, the dynamic had changed. It looked like a bunch of homeless people sheltering overnight. Nothing to see here and time to go back.

Freddy nodded in the gloom and they both inched backwards looking to make a quiet exit. As they crept as noiselessly as they could, a hand was placed on their respective shoulders. They turned in unison to be greeted by the sight of a large man. It was difficult to see his features clearly in the darkness.

“And what do we have here? I suppose you are trying to rob us are yer now?” The accent was Irish, the smell profoundly of alcohol.  Danny and Freddy shrugged off the hands placed on them and took a step back. They looked closer to see that the man was wearing a scruffy, white shirt and baggy trousers. His hair was unkempt and wild, his chin covered in stubble. He wore a trilby hat with a feather sticking out of the side. He looked middle-aged but it was hard to tell.

“Just out on an evening stroll, squire.” Declared Danny. Fear was pumping through the veins of both boys. They worried about this latest interloper and the rest of the homeless people in the shed. Seeing the graves had set them on edge and extrapolation of the facts had led them to a concerning conclusion. 

“Ach…you’ve nothing to fear lads. We come here every night. It’s a place to sleep before we go out again during the day. It’s safer than a hostel. Although, I still don’t trust this lot.” He laughed at that.

Danny glared at the man, his mind racing. What about the gravestones? Wasn’t Sarah a witch? If she was then was this her coven?

“I suppose you are kids from that school over the way? A few of your lot have gone missing recently.” The man slurred the last part of the sentence. The boys debated in their heads whether to simply run off. They could hear the other vagrants stirring behind them. Any second they could be outnumbered and surrounded.

“So what do you know about that?” demanded Danny, bravado getting the better of him for now.

The Irishman shook his head slowly. “I know some children have disappeared……into the ether, wouldn’t you know. And now….and now have now been found again.” The final part of the sentence unravelled like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat. The conversation had become strange very quickly and the atmosphere was turning increasingly ominous.

“What do you mean found?” Danny sounded confused.

“Ach haven’t you heard? Those there children have been found in a basement. Some teacher at the school apparently. The kids are quite dead. Amen.”  Some of those slumbering in the shed had now joined the impromptu gathering. An elderly man and Sarah rustled through autumn leaves on the ground. 

The boys looked at each other wondering whether to take this seriously. Maybe this was some kind of ruse to lure them into a trap. They shuffled to their left, leaving a gap between the Irishman in front of them and the new arrivals behind. The whole situation had become just a bit too strange and now was as good a time as any to beat a hasty retreat.

“So you are saying that one of our teachers is a serial killer? I am sure we would have noticed some weird behaviour if one of the faculty had been up to something.” Danny sounded indignant and tried to hide the growing fear from showing in his voice. He also thought how American he must sound using a word like faculty.

“And I suppose you thought it was one of us poor destitute folk, did you now? Is that why you are here in the dead of night? Are you planning on arresting us?” The Irishman sounded quizzical yet disappointed. The homeless population tended to get blamed for many things although murder wasn’t usually one of them.

Danny and Freddy exchanged more glances in the gloom, both coiled springs ready to flee. They hadn’t bargained on a welcoming committee having finally caught up with mad Sarah. Drawing in breath, discretion finally got the better of valour and they spun on their heels, turned and ran off in what they hoped was the general direction of the school.

“Ah…would yer look at that. The birds are fleeing the nest.” Exclaimed the Irishman.

Ten miles away in a suburban estate, a man hovered over the lid of a freezer. He paused and, for a few seconds, pondered. He thought again about his life and how little he had achieved. That sense of nothingness was consuming him. Had been consuming him. For a long time now. He concealed a sense of bitterness, it was still there. The truth was that he had come to despise himself and that self-loathing needed to be expressed. Somehow. He peered inside at wrapped packages of all shapes and sizes. Food for the soul…

Sarah along with two men stood in a line watching the boys flee in the dark. They looked serenely at each other then held hands. They made a human paper-chain in the gloom. Sarah closed her eyes and started to chant. The men joined in, whispering words in Gaelic. As a line of trees approached, Freddy and Danny felt a euphoria sweeping through them. A sense of jubilation at escaping a scenario they hadn’t planned on. This would be a great story to tell in school tomorrow.

A trail of neon green lit the ground like a trail of gunpowder that had been ignited. It ripped across the forest floor in the direction of the boys. On reaching them, it spread in all directions, left and right, up and down like the fallout from a nuclear bomb. Wind whistled and flowed through the path that had been forged with a loud “WHUMP”. 

Where the boys had been there was now nothing. Evaporated, dissolved, disappeared. They were no more. A fourth and fifth, faded tombstone appeared next to the other three.

Sarah pictured an image of the caseworker from earlier and the looks of disdain from passers-by that she had absorbed again all day. She opened her eyes.

“I wish you wouldn’t keep doing that.” Said the Irishman.

“Oh I shouldn’t worry. I have a promise to keep.” Mused the old woman.

****

Fairy lights flashed from a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Mr King reached for a tumbler of vodka that was perched on a coffee table. It had been a long, few months. He had survived the police investigation that had brought his teaching role into question. An anonymous caller had reported him, accusing him of holding children hostage in his house. He wasn’t sure why anyone would do this and remained bitter about it to this day. Even his freezer had been searched presumably on the possibility that he had killed the kids and chopped them up. Maybe this had been some kind of karma for falling foul of that old homeless woman. They had crossed paths one day in October when he had told her to “get a life” rather than continue begging outside shops in the town. She had muttered something about a curse as he had walked on that day. He had shrugged it off at the time but, months later, he found that it was playing on his mind.

Mr King stretched out on his settee, pushing his head back theatrically and took another gulp of his drink. He reached for the remote control and flicked on the television. Christmas was in full swing and he was determined to enjoy his own company. He hopped through channels finally settling to catch up with the news on Sky. A reporter was looking intensely at the camera, reporting a headline story. The scrolling update at the bottom of the screen read: Missing Children Found in Shelter.

Mr King listened to the update:

Five children missing since September have been found in a homeless shelter. Bobby Weaver, Gail O’Keefe, Tina McMahon, Daniel Glover and Fred Gray, all aged between 13 and 14, appeared on Christmas Eve morning in five empty beds that would normally be occupied by homeless people. The shelter had been unusually quiet overnight with occupancy below normal usage. A police search for the teenagers had been ongoing without success. The manager of the facility, Tim Brennan, declared their discovery a complete mystery. The manager was grateful for the publicity, the story having gone viral on social media.  The charity has seen a huge uptick in donations and funding since the news broke. People are calling it “The Miracle of Maldon”

Mr King pointed the remote control and turned the television off.

“Bah, humbug.” He muttered under his breath. He took another swig of vodka.

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