The Circus - Chapter Three

Chapter 3 - Present Day

Small specks of sunlight peered through the leaves, the trees moved at ease with the breeze and all in all it was a perfect, warm summer’s day. Beneath the trees set off from the small dirt path in the middle of the wood was a shack.

The walls were made up of old, rotting timber with the ‘front door’ a piece of corrugated iron which had once been languishing on a skip in town. James had been pleased; at least, that the old village he had once spent his childhood in was now a small market town, with its very own high street and chain of well known shops, this was like a treasure chest to the old man.

James sat on his rickety deckchair; sorting through his shopping trolley of assorted items he had picked up on his morning visit into town. As always, nobody had spoken to him and he had been avoided due to his unkempt dress and long straggly hair. James mumbled to himself as he tossed newspapers, which he would use for insulation, into one box and clothes into another. It had been a pretty good morning for finding items as the dustman had not yet been, so James was able to salvage some things before they had moved in with the big dumper trucks.

Placing his hand into the trolley, James pulled out a newspaper, the local gazette, which he noticed was a week or so old. Whoever had been reading the paper had got to the entertainment and advertising section before discarding it. As he was about to toss the paper into the box, something caught his attention, his eyes opened wide and for a moment he froze in terror. High above a flock of birds hurried away from their next and the wind increased causing the trees to sway. Slowly James pulled the paper towards him, he had not seen this sight for such a long time and it scared him. Pulling the paper right up close he studied the half page advertisement staring back at him, every emotion in his bony body twitched, his hands began to shake and the thoughts of that summer fifty years ago came flooding back as though it had only happened yesterday.

The colourful advertisement sat on the page glaring back at James; it was like the picture was talking to him, telling him that the time had come. He stood up slowly from the deckchair and opened the paper right out, mumbling he began to walk down the dirt path.

“This can’t be,” he said quietly to himself.

James wondered for a moment what to do, and then it dawned on him that the paper was a week old, which meant it was going to happen soon. He had no time to prepare, to warn anybody of the coming danger. For a moment he wished that he read more newspapers and maybe he would have had time to tell everybody in the town, to make plans. He so badly wanted to wipe clear the memories of fifty years ago.

James read the words of the advertisement over and over again, the same words he had read before. Underneath were colour photographs, these were the same photographs he had seen before, but he did not recall the smiling faces that the advertisement was portraying. He remembered them differently.

James could feel the fear build up inside him, his mother had passed away not having faith in her troubled son and he thought about how he had failed to make anyone believe that he was telling the truth. Gazing up through the trees into the sky his thoughts moved away from the advertisement and to his mother. He watched the birds that were now peacefully perched on the branches above and for a moment he smiled, he loved the birds and they appeared to have accepted him into their environment. At one point he thought he saw his mothers face peering down at him, a warm glow about her face. She was smiling, like she used to before...before.

James returned his attention to the newspaper, the birds sprung up from the branches and fluttered away, the wind returned to the wood, the corrugated iron door on the shack smacked furiously against the timber.

Another advertisement at the foot of the page which was only about an eighth of a page, black and white with small writing. It was not the sort of advertisement which would spontaneously grab you, but it got the attention of James, he continued to stare at it with curious interest.

“Like fate,” he said referring to the second advert he had seen. He continued to read the contents.

DANIEL SHANNON - INVESTIGATOR OF THE UNEXPLAINED - GHOST TOURS - PARANORMAL EXPLORER.

The smaller writing went onto to explain that this Daniel Shannon investigated anything mysterious and supposedly unexplainable, there was a telephone number and luckily, James thought, an address. Nodding, as if he had just found divine inspiration, he folded the newspaper and placed it into his dirty jacket pocket. He grabbed a few pieces of discarded food and headed away from the shack down to the road which led into town.

“Mr. Shannon. You could be my only hope.” James continued to walk whilst whistling to the tune of ten green bottles.

The sound of the young woman screaming echoed down the corridor, her three female companions grabbed hold of her just as the lights flicked on.

“What’s the matter?” asked the calming voice from beside her.

“I felt something touch my arm,” she replied.

“Right everybody stand still. Did anyone move or brush by this lady?” asked the calming voice at the front of the group.

The group of five startled people shook their heads as the tall man waved an instrument around the area in which they had stopped.

“What are you doing?” asked one of the group.

“I am trying to pick up changes in temperature to establish if there are any fluctuations in the energy of the room which could identify a possible astral being.”

The group gazed back at the tall man with puzzled looks etched across their faces; he stopped waving the instrument and looked up at them, a smile appearing across his face. The smile made him seem younger than his thirty-six years, he was an attractive man with short black hair, which the group of females found appealing as they did the way he dressed, very smart in his white, short sleeve shirt and black trousers.

“I am looking for ghosts,” he said simply, the group smiled back understanding what he meant now.

Daniel Shannon had been conducting tours of Brookhampton Manor House for the last four years, he had put his savings into the tours and hoped for some return, though slow at first, he was getting some kind of income out of his hobby. He put the surge of interest into the paranormal down to some of the popular shows that were being aired on cable channels and felt that he should strike while the iron was hot. It had been his grandfather who had aroused Daniel’s interest in ghosts and the unexplained from a very early age with stories and spooky tales. Daniel smiled as he thought about the old man and then decided to move the tour on.

Stepping into the shadows he walked forward a few paces, still waving the instrument around, he then turned into a hollow alcove below the tall balcony which loomed over the main hall and back round until he was standing behind the touring group.

“Two hundred years ago,” the group jumped and the woman shrieked again as they turned to look at Daniel. “A woman called Felicity Bourne was standing up on that balcony high above this great hall when she fell to her death.” Daniel pointed up to the graceful balcony, the group peered up at the wonderful sight and then at the spiral staircase which led down to the main hall. “There are two different stories on how she met her death,” the lights came down once more and Daniel stepped in amongst the group. “Some say she jumped. Others say she was pushed by her married lover because she was pregnant. Whatever story you believe, there is no doubt that strange sounds can be heard,” his voice came lower. “Footsteps. Whispers,” his voice rose again grabbing the group’s attention. “Some visitors describe being touched on the arm.” He looked directly at the woman who had screamed a few moments ago.

“So that was her who touched me?” she asked.

“Who is to say?” Daniel moved through the middle of the group and back to the front. “But you have experienced what a lot of other people have had in this exact same area.”

Now that he had the groups undivided attention, Daniel slowly moved the tour on through the hall and then into the side rooms which led off to each side, the mansion was under National Trust ownership and he was only allowed into certain areas so had to make the best of the time and space he had. Generally the tour lasted for an hour and a half, at the end he would hand out the complimentary information leaflets which detailed the tour and advertised other events he hosted during the year.

The group strode outside into the evening light, waving and thanking Daniel as they went; he smiled and then felt his mobile phone vibrate on the inside of his pocket.

“Hi, grandad. Sure. No worries. I’ll pop home first, grab some milk and I’ll be round as soon as I can,” Daniel placed the mobile back into his pocket and then set about making his daily trip to his grandfather’s house, a trip he enjoyed.

The long road bent about half a mile down, to the right was field which had once been home to horses, it rolled back to the river and then stopped at the line of trees. To the left was the flour mill which blotted the otherwise beautiful landscape. Turning round the bend in the road, Daniel walked down a narrow dirt path which led to the cottages at the edge of the small river. Large beech trees lined the path all the way down and as he walked Daniel was thinking about the next tour he would be conducting, it was at the local village hall which had been built on land previously used as a hospital for wounded soldiers in the Second World War, he was looking forward to it.

Daniel slowed down as he reached the end of the dirt path; he squinted his eyes and saw the figure pacing up and down outside his house. He noticed the homeless look about the figure and after a short pause he continued to walk down to the gate until he was in speaking distance.

“Can I help you?” Daniel asked curiously.

“Daniel Shannon. Ghost hunter?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I need your help.”

“Ok. But who are you?”

“James Anthony Fuller.” The old man shoved a scruffy hand forward to shake hands.

Daniel stared at the scrawny, dirty figure in front of him and then scrabbled around his pocket. He found some change and handed it to the old man.

“Now, how do you know my name?” Daniel asked.

The old man stared down at the collection of coins which had been placed in his hands, he looked up at Daniel and stare him straight in the eyes. Stepping forward he threw the coins down at Daniel’s feet and continued to stare.

“I’m not after your money. Your arrogance and assumptions match that of everyone else in this town.” The old man took a newspaper from his coat and shoved it towards Daniel.

“Who are you?” Daniel took the newspaper.

“My name is James Fuller and I have something very important to tell you.” James took a bow.

Daniel unfolded the newspaper and looked down at the advertisement, his own. He handed the paper back to James but the old man just stood there, staring at Daniel.

“What?” Daniel asked.

“Read it properly, Mr. Shannon.”

“I don’t need to, it’s my own advert. I should know what it says.”

“Read the page again.”

Daniel sighed, and then looked at the assortment of adverts dotted around the page; his attention was drawn to the huge, colourful one which dominated the page. The old man snatched the newspaper away and began to pace up and down; he began to mumble to himself. Daniel looked around to see if there was anybody he could rely on for help. Nobody was about.

“Do you need my services in anyway?” Daniel asked eventually.

James stopped pacing; he had his back turned towards Daniel. Momentarily he paused before peering over his shoulder at the tall man. The stare made Daniel feel uncomfortable and he decided that he needed to get into the house; the old man was starting to seriously worry him.

Brushing by James, he reached the fence and walked up the garden path to the front door.

“It’s coming to town,” James shouted.

Daniel opened his door and ignoring the old man he stepped inside. Closing the door he picked up the letters on the mat and shook his head. The loud bang on the door made him jump. He opened it and saw the old man standing on the step holding out the newspaper.

“Old man. What do you want?”

“It’s coming to town. You need to be prepared.”

“What’s coming to town?”

“This time read,” James thrust the newspaper back at Daniel.

“My advert, some children’s entertainers, the circus......”

James screamed, clutched his stomach and fell to his knees on the doorstep. Daniel looked outside but there was still nobody about, the old man was shaking and Daniel took hold of him by one arm. Helping him to his feet he dragged James into the house and shut the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“It’s coming to town.”

“Old man. It’s a circus.”

“Evil. You need to stop it.” The old man was talking through gritted teeth, his whole body shaking.

“You want me to stop a circus?”

James rose to his feet and walked over to the mirror which hung just inside the front door. Staring at his reflection, the old man wiped the tears that welled up in his eyes and for a moment he glanced at a reflection he recognised. It was Robert, hovering into view behind him. Spinning round he looked at Daniel and then around the hallway.

“This circus. It was here fifty years ago. It killed Robert. They killed my friend.” His speech was fast and gruff; spittle’s of saliva flew from his mouth as he spoke.

“A circus killed your friend?” Daniel began to smile. He didn’t mean to, he just thought this whole conversation was weird and absurd.

“Don’t laugh at me!” The old man lurched forward causing Daniel to flinch and jump back.

“Calm down. Look I have no idea who you are or why you think I can help you, but you need to leave. Right now.”

“You are the only one who can help,” James pointed at the advert.

“Old man. I am an investigator or the unexplained. I don’t lobby against a circus coming to town. Besides, a circus is supposed to be fun.”

James walked slowly over to the front door; he pulled the handle and then looked back at Daniel.
“There is evil in this circus. You will see it. You will feel it. I have just come to warn you that it’s going to happen again,” James said slowly.

“What’s going to happen again?”

The old man walked out the door and strode up the path. Daniel watched through the open door and gazed down at the advert in the newspaper. He had come across some bizarre people in his time, but this old man took the biscuit, he thought.

Looking up for the paper he noticed the old man was gone. Shrugging his shoulders, he shut the door and walked into the kitchen to fetch the milk from the fridge. He was late for visiting his grandfather.