Man-Weasel (Part Three)

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

“It was sitting on the bed, you say?” Lloyd said as he bathed the egg sized lump on the back of his wife's head – he had already repaid Joan's favour and made her a mug of brandy infused coffee.

“Yes, It was conducting an invisible orchestra, I've already told you. It must have gone through the window after I fainted. I haven't fainted since I was a girl, I guess it was shock. I don't know how long I was unconscious but I doubt if it was more than a few minutes, I phoned you as soon as I came to. I must have banged my head on the dressing table as I fell.....”

“We have to make sure all the windows and doors are kept closed so it can't get back in, whatever it is. Paddy and the cats need the run of the house tonight, I'll leave all the interior doors open except for the bedroom. Do you think I should phone the police?”

“And tell them what, that we're being haunted by a freaky looking spectral ferret that conducts an invisible orchestra, whistles along with the music, raises the spirits of long dead musicians and talks? You've already made the only suggestion that makes the slightest bit of sense, Lloyd, and that's calling the vicar in Bradbury to see what he thinks. I'm not sure if the Church of England does exorcisms, but seeing as we've both independently seen the creature maybe Reverend Allen will be willing to pay us a visit to discuss the matter and maybe say a prayer or something.”

“You're sure you don't need to see a doctor? You ought to let me drive you to the Accident and Emergency department at the hospital in Stoke to get you checked out, or at least to the Health Centre in Bradbury.”

“There's no need, love, honestly, I haven't got concussion and I haven't even got a headache. You need to go and help Alan to finish preparing and packing the poultry, I'll be fine in a few minutes and I have to finish doing the dinner.”

“I'll put the vegetables on, I'll call the vicar to see if he's willing to drop by this evening and then I'll go and help John.”

*************************

Lloyd and Joan were far from avid churchgoers, though they rarely missed services at Easter and Christmas; they knew Reverend Allen quite well, and he looked more like an ex boxer than a vicar. When he arrived shortly after eight that evening he declined Lloyd's offer of a hot drink.”I never drink tea or coffee after six, I have a low caffeine tolerance and it keeps me awake half the night if I overdo it. Now tell me about this creature you've both seen.” Lloyd related his experience first as he was the first to see the animal, and then Joan told the vicar about the improbable series of events that she had witnessed.

“The church tends to lump all supernatural activity together and stick a satanic label on it,” Allen said. “Speaking from a personal level, though, from what you've told me the being you've seen isn't necessarily evil, but you never know with these things because as I'm sure you know, Satan is the master of lies..... The wisest response, I suppose, is to treat all paranormal incidents with great caution and suspicion. Do you have internet access?”

“Yes, we do,” Joan replied. “Lloyd isn't particularly computer savvy, he listens to music on YouTube now and then, but I like to keep in touch with friends on Facebook and I research several subjects that interest me when I can find the time. I'm into local history, particularly strange events, ghost stories and the like. You don't think that could have attracted this thing, do you?”

“I doubt that, Mrs. Wilcox, I've always been interested in the supernatural but I've never witnessed anything that I'd classify as paranormal. Don't spread that information around, please, because the church automatically brands an interest in the supernatural as unhealthy at the very least. There's an awful lot of information on the internet about a case of a talking mongoose or mongoose like animal called Jeff in the Isle Of Man, it dates back to the nineteen twenties or thirties, I believe, you might want to read up on that. The creature you two saw, though, differs from that entity in a number of ways – it's a lot bigger for a start, but I guess certain high energy spirits can manifest however they please. Opinions vary, but the general consensus is that the Jersey creature was a poltergeist rather than a flesh and blood animal.”

“What's a poltergeist when it's at home?” Lloyd said.

“It's a mischievous unsettled spirit that invades houses, moves objects around, makes inexplicable bangings and rappings and generally makes a nuisance of itself - but don't worry, such things aren't always malicious and they rarely cause physical harm. Usually the presence focuses on an adolescent that it draws psychic energy from, and for some reason they're particularly attracted by young girls. Do you have any children, Mr and Mrs Wilcox?”

“We have twins, but they're twenty years old and they're both at college, they only come home during the holidays,” Joan said.

“I'm no expert on these matters,” Allen replied, “and my interest is strictly an amateur one, but as far as I know poltergeists mostly bother people with teenage children in the house. Look, I'm quite sensitive to unwelcome intrusions like this and normally I can feel the presence of spirits that don't belong, but to be frank I feel nothing out of the ordinary in this house.....

I suggest that I take a walk around and recite a prayer or an appropriate passage from the Bible in every room, that usually does the trick when folk experience problems like this. A lot of similar cases I've heard about haven't needed any intervention from the church, the spirits are just casually passing through and they don't ultimately mean any harm, but it's better to be safe than sorry.” Lloyd and Joan followed the powerfully built man as he walked around the house, and after a few minutes he was finished. “I'll bid you farewell, then,” he said, shaking the couple's hands. “If you have any more trouble don't hesitate to call me any hour of the day or night – I'm here to help, but I doubt if you'll see or hear this spirit again.”

“Yeah, right,” Lloyd mumbled as he bolted the front door. “Fat lot of good he turned out to be.”

“You don't know that yet, love. Let's just wait and see what happens, hmm?”

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The Wilcox's were in bed by ten because the following day they were taking their wares to the monthly farmers' market in Birmingham and they had to be up at half four for the long drive. At first Lloyd's tossing and turning kept Joan awake for a while, but she was used to that because he was a terrible fidgeter when he had something on his mind, which happened pretty often because he was a born worrier. She did sleep, albeit fitfully, but she was woken by what she thought must have been Lloyd's restlessness and she rolled over to look at the clock. It was just after two thirty, and Lloyd was lying on his back, out for the count and snoring his head off.

She heard a scratching sound, it seemed to come from the built in wardrobe at the back of the room. One of the less appealing aspects of farm life, especially a farm that kept large numbers of poultry, was rodents; it wasn't uncommon to have a stray mouse or rat in the house, though they had four cats that slept in and another half a dozen semi wild ones living in the outbuildings that kept the bulk of the vermin down. “Bugger off you scurrilous little fuck,” Joan mumbled, rolling over and covering her head with the duvet.

“That's not a polite way to speak to a new acquaintance,” a high-pitched voice whispered in reply. “Shh! Don't wake misery guts, or he'll run for his shotgun and stand there stark bollock naked manically shooting holes in the ceiling.

“Not you again,” Joan groaned. “Anyhow, you're not in the ceiling, you furry bastard, you sound like you're in the wardrobe to me.”

“Jeff can be wherever Jeff wishes,” the creature said. “Jeff can be up here,” (a heavy something that sounded like a gorilla wearing clogs clomped across the ceiling) “Jeff can be over there,” (there were a series of violent scratches at the bedroom door, and the door handle was turning rapidly) “or he can be right behind you,” (at which point something tapped and scratched from within the chimney breast behind Joan's head). “Jeff is a magical being, Jeff is a naughty but rather clever spirit, and he refuses to obey the laws of physics. Physics is for asses and wusses and pussies and sad, unbelieving farts.....”

“What do you want, Jeff - out of all the places in the world you could have chosen to haunt, why have you come here to bother us?”

“What does Jeff want, and why is he here, you say? Now that's a good question, my dear, one that Jeff promises to give considerable thought, but off the top of his head he doesn't have the frigging foggiest, my lovely friend.”

“Would you do me a favour?”

“It depends what the favour is.”

“It's the middle of the sodding night, Jeff, and Lloyd and I desperately need to rest. Especially Lloyd – if you wake him up he'll be a pain in the arse with his non-stop complaining all day tomorrow. Would you mind, like, fucking off and amusing yourself elsewhere while we sleep, is that too much to ask? Can't you go and make yourself a snack and watch TV or something?”

“Jeff never eats and never sleeps,” the entity said slowly and deliberately. “He doesn't need to. Poor old Jeff, he tends to get lonely in the middle of the night when boring mortals are asleep. Maybe Jeff will have a prowl around the house and kill the sweet ickle pussycats and your wooly black Patterdale terrier; maybe he'll take a mosey outside, gouge out the eyes out of your two German shepherds and Lloyd's beloved merle collie lurcher with his sharp claws and pop them in the pickled onion jar in the kitchen cupboard so you have an unpleasant surprise the next time you make yourself a cheese and pickle sandwich. Ha! Maybe then Jeff will work his way through your stock pens one by one and slice the carotid arteries of the over-numerous beasties you rely on to make a living. Perhaps he'll open up an inter-dimensional gateway and let a few really awful beings through to help him with his wet work.....”

“And maybe he won't,” Joan replied. “Look, Jeff, I'm absolutely shattered; we have an awfully long day tomorrow and I can't bear the thought of going to market feeling like a bag of warmed up shit, so please bugger off.”

“All righty,” the voice replied. “I'm on my way, I'm off, I've started stopping; I'm vanishing into the ether as we speak, honestly I am, boss woman. You owe Jeff a favour now in return for his ineffable decency, Joan. Don't forget, mind..... Cheerio!”