The Collector's Apprentice
by Ron A. Sewell
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: Everything was fine until the barefoot boy turned up...
_____________________________________________________________________
Caroline Ball could feel her adrenalin pumping as Richard Tonks steered his BMW at speed round a sharp bend.
She looked at him, his eyes sunken from late nights and difficult meetings, knowing if the Government contract failed they would be bankrupt. “Please slow down,” she pleaded. “Does it matter if we’re a few minutes late?”
He turned towards her and let rip. “Just shut up. Let me tell you, this job’s worth one million quid to the company. Without it we’re up shit creek. I’m up to my neck in debt and you want me to be late.”
“I asked you to slow down before you kill us. Oh my God, look out, there’s a boy in the middle of the road.”
His right foot hit the brake pedal, slamming it to the floor. The car veered across the road, tyres screaming. Out of control, it careered down a steep embankment. Its downward plunge halted when it struck a tree. Caroline’s screams filled his ears.
Richard’s body lurched forward and the seat belt cut into his chest. He unclipped it and fell into the gap between the seats. For a time everything became dark and quiet.
Caroline groaned and attempted to sit up but discovered it was impossible. Grimacing at the pain which erupted with every movement, she dragged herself through the shattered windscreen and once clear, rested. Her eyes wandered to the BMW, now a crumpled, twisted wreck. Forcing herself to focus, she crawled towards Richard.
Suddenly his eyes opened and he stared directly at her. “Are you alright, Caroline? That was one hell of a ride.”
She laughed and didn’t know why. “I feel like shit and ache all over.”
At that moment the sky decided to open up. The rain, steady at first, soon became a downpour.
“It never rains but it pours,” said Richard. “Don’t think anything’s broken. My ribs hurt. How did you get out?”
“Through the windscreen. It’s not there anymore.”
“Better make a move.” Flinching, he eased himself out of the car. With the rain streaming down his face, he turned and looked at the wreck. “Not our lucky day, is it? No car, no meeting and no fucking contract.”
She pointed up the slope. “We have to get up there.”
“I know.” He stared at the heavens. “It’s Murphy’s choice. Stay here and drown or get up to the road and hope someone drives by.”
The rain tumbled through the branches of the trees that covered the embankment. Rivulets ran down the steep slope, making it treacherous.
Their climb wasn’t easy and several times the wet earth gave way, returning them to the base of the embankment. After much slipping and sliding, they made the top. Exhausted, covered in mud, they lay gasping on the side of the road.
Richard looked around, hoping for all he was worth that he had missed the boy. He scratched his head whilst turning to Caroline. “We did see a boy, didn’t we?”
She nodded in agreement as the rain washed mud from her face, leaving dark streaks.
Richard looked at his watch. “It’s stopped.” The pain in his chest had decreased but he didn’t appreciate waiting in the rain for a passing motorist.
The deluge weakened but the sky remained dark. In the distance lightning chased black thunderclouds.
“Mine too,” said Caroline. “I wonder what the time is?”
“Haven’t a clue and this isn’t my idea of a picnic. Someone must live nearby who can contact a garage.”
“Which way?” she said, getting to her feet.
He clutched his chest as she helped him to rise. “The way we were travelling. I don’t remember passing any houses before the accident.”
The road seemed endless as they staggered doggedly along, their pace restricted by his injuries.
He shivered as his eyes searched for a light in the dark; some semblance of human inhabitancy had to exist in this God-forsaken county.
For a few minutes, they stopped by a stone wall, Richard leant against it and rested. “Look, over there.” Far off a light shimmered. The size of the building was difficult to determine but it gave them much needed hope. The house was much further than they thought and both were out of breath when they climbed the stone steps to the main door.
“This place has seen better days. When the lightning flashed, you could see the guttering hanging in a few places.”
“Dry would be welcome,” said Caroline as she hammered on the large ornate door. He leaned against the frame, giving the pain in his chest a chance to subside.
Much to their amazement, an elderly couple opened the door. “You poor things, you’re soaked. Come in.” A crash of thunder rattled the windows as they entered.
“I’ll get some towels,” said the man. No sooner had he gone when he returned with a bath towel for each of them.
As she dried her hair and wiped the remnants of the mud from her face, Caroline described the accident and the boy.
The couple sighed. “Encounters with that young man have been the cause of many a mishap. I don’t suppose you noticed he was dressed in rags and wore no shoes?”
“What d’you mean?” said Caroline.
A long silence followed. “He appears real enough,” said the old man, “but legend has it he died under the wheels of a coach long ago. No one knows who he was and why he shows up during a storm.”
“How long has this ghost or whatever been around?”
“Ages,” said the old lady, “As long as I can remember.”
Richard grimaced. “You’re joking. Ghosts don’t exist.”
“You may think that but my wife and I believe differently. When one leaves this existence, especially in fear, something remains behind. You may call it what you wish, we call it the spirit of life.”
Richard interrupted. “Would you mind if we used your telephone to contact a garage? I’ll pay for the call.”
The man glanced at his wife. “If we had one, you’d be most welcome, but we find little use for such modern things. Mr Bell should have been damned when he invented it. Anyway, tomorrow’s another day and as it’s getting late, I suggest you get those wet clothes off and stay here for the night. Our bedrooms are always prepared, so it’s not a problem.”
Richard turned to Caroline, who smiled weakly. “We accept your kind offer. Thank you.”
The old woman said, “It’s our place to help lost and weary travellers. One thing you need to know, we won’t be here in the morning. You will have the entire house to yourselves.”
Caroline glanced at Richard, uncertain.
Richard shrugged. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t see a problem,” he said. “Please make sure the door’s closed when you leave.”
Caroline shook her head wearily. “Will that be alright?”
“What’s necessary will be done,” replied the old woman.
Richard caught the smile that passed between the old couple.
“It’s late and we need our rest,” said the man. “Please follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
They climbed the ornate winding staircase. The quietness of the house seemed eerie. Their footsteps on the polished wooden boards echoed as they walked. The man opened a door and directed them in, not entering himself. “This is a good room; I hope you will be comfortable. Don’t worry if you hear some strange noises, this is a very old house. Good night. Oh, the bathroom’s the third door on the left.” They watched as he disappeared into the dark.
Richard glanced up at the dull light. “The last time I saw something like this was on a school trip visiting Pinewood Studios. They’d just finished one of the Hammer Horror films.”
“I don’t think that’s funny,” said Caroline. She shut the door but noticed that this room, like the rest of the house, contained some magnificent pieces of furniture.
“Who lives like this? said Richard.” All of this furniture should be in a museum. ”
The solitary bed was huge and she tested it for comfort. “The bed’s mine, Richard, seeing your driving got us into this mess.”
He chuckled. “They must think we’re married. You can have it, I’ll sleep on the couch.” The musty smell of an unused room filled his nostrils. “I’m off for a quick wash.”
On his return, he removed his clothes and draped them over the back of a chair. “Hope they dry by the morning. Leave the door ajar, it’ll help you find your way to the loo.”
Caroline removed the top cover from the bed and placed it on the large sofa. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back.”
“Richard, did you see the size of the bath? You could almost swim in it.” Somewhere in the house a clock chimed. “It might be me and I know it’s not cold, but I haven’t stopped shivering since we arrived.”
He admitted to himself his nerves tingled but thought better of mentioning it. “Get undressed under the covers and give me your clothes.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Turn your head away and I’ll strip to my bra and knickers.”
Richard turned out the light and snuggled down on the sofa, wrapped the cover around, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Caroline woke with a start. Her fear grew as a black shape leaned over her. She went to scream but couldn’t as the sound of footsteps retreated across the uncarpeted floor. Jumping out of bed, she ran to Richard and woke him. “Somebody’s in here.”
“Go back to bed,” he mumbled, “It’s nothing but the sounds of an old house.”
“Come and sleep with me,” she pleaded.
“You sure about this?”
“I need you as a protector, not a lover.”
As they walked across the cold wooden floor, they stopped. In the shadows by the window stood the figure of a child, her white dress fluttering as if in a breeze. Caroline’s hand tightened on Richard’s as she stifled a scream. A cold current of air wafted across the room, the curtains flapped, and it was gone.
“What the hell was that?” said Richard. “Definitely a trick of the light.”
“I’m cold and frightened.”
He sighed, realising how tired he was. “Can you sleep with the light on?”
She nodded in agreement. “I’m knackered, let’s try.”
They got into bed and lay close to each other, the warmth of their bodies comforting. The coldness of the cotton sheets made him shiver as he stared at the ceiling. Caroline slept holding his hand.
Some time later, bright shafts of sunlight woke them. Ill at ease, Richard knew he had slept heavily.
Caroline got up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “At least our clothes are dry.” As she dressed, something unseen brushed past. Her panic barely contained as fear filled her mind. She listened but the house was silent. “Whatever happens, don’t leave me on my own,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry, I won’t, but hurry up.”
She did not waste time.
Once dressed, Richard grabbed her hand and went to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. He let go of Caroline and heaved on the handle with both hands, but it remained fast. The smiling faces of the elderly couple appeared and faded. Suddenly it flew open.
With terror etched into his face, he grabbed Caroline’s wrist, they dashed out and ran.
Cobwebs hung like silken drapes from the high ceiling. Their haste disturbed layers of dust.
As they descended the stairs to the main hall, Caroline screamed as rats scurried out of their way. “What’s happening, Richard?”
Confused, he shook his head. “Just run for your life,” he stammered, his voice echoing in the dark, empty spaces that surrounded them.
“I’m with you,” she cried.
Hand in hand they charged across the rubbish-strewn floor to the main entrance, not once stopping or looking back.
With trembling hands, Richard wrenched open the heavy door. It groaned on rusty hinges. When the gap became wide enough, they squeezed through. Strangely, outside the sun shone but there was no bird song, nothing, only silence. With a resounding crash, the doors tumbled inwards.
A tense expression filled Richard’s face. The house behind them was falling apart. He was out of his depth and didn’t know the questions, let alone the answers. “Come on. We can walk to the main road and hitch a lift.”
He dared a glance back. The roof of the grand house gaped to the sky and windowless holes stared vacantly across fields.
Arm in arm, they began the long walk along the track that led to the real world. After a while, they stopped and looked back, stunned. The skeletal ruins of a grand building pointed skyward.
The arrival of the barefoot boy startled them. Richard grabbed him by the wrist. “What are you playing at, boy?”
The boy’s bright eyes sparkled with joy. “I’ve been waiting for you. You think you survived when your car went off the road. I hate to tell you, you didn’t. Your spirits became trapped in the abyss of time. I’m new at this lark and missed you but I knew you’d be back. After all, I am the collector of lost souls.”
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: Everything was fine until the barefoot boy turned up...
_____________________________________________________________________
Caroline Ball could feel her adrenalin pumping as Richard Tonks steered his BMW at speed round a sharp bend.
She looked at him, his eyes sunken from late nights and difficult meetings, knowing if the Government contract failed they would be bankrupt. “Please slow down,” she pleaded. “Does it matter if we’re a few minutes late?”
He turned towards her and let rip. “Just shut up. Let me tell you, this job’s worth one million quid to the company. Without it we’re up shit creek. I’m up to my neck in debt and you want me to be late.”
“I asked you to slow down before you kill us. Oh my God, look out, there’s a boy in the middle of the road.”
His right foot hit the brake pedal, slamming it to the floor. The car veered across the road, tyres screaming. Out of control, it careered down a steep embankment. Its downward plunge halted when it struck a tree. Caroline’s screams filled his ears.
Richard’s body lurched forward and the seat belt cut into his chest. He unclipped it and fell into the gap between the seats. For a time everything became dark and quiet.
Caroline groaned and attempted to sit up but discovered it was impossible. Grimacing at the pain which erupted with every movement, she dragged herself through the shattered windscreen and once clear, rested. Her eyes wandered to the BMW, now a crumpled, twisted wreck. Forcing herself to focus, she crawled towards Richard.
Suddenly his eyes opened and he stared directly at her. “Are you alright, Caroline? That was one hell of a ride.”
She laughed and didn’t know why. “I feel like shit and ache all over.”
At that moment the sky decided to open up. The rain, steady at first, soon became a downpour.
“It never rains but it pours,” said Richard. “Don’t think anything’s broken. My ribs hurt. How did you get out?”
“Through the windscreen. It’s not there anymore.”
“Better make a move.” Flinching, he eased himself out of the car. With the rain streaming down his face, he turned and looked at the wreck. “Not our lucky day, is it? No car, no meeting and no fucking contract.”
She pointed up the slope. “We have to get up there.”
“I know.” He stared at the heavens. “It’s Murphy’s choice. Stay here and drown or get up to the road and hope someone drives by.”
The rain tumbled through the branches of the trees that covered the embankment. Rivulets ran down the steep slope, making it treacherous.
Their climb wasn’t easy and several times the wet earth gave way, returning them to the base of the embankment. After much slipping and sliding, they made the top. Exhausted, covered in mud, they lay gasping on the side of the road.
Richard looked around, hoping for all he was worth that he had missed the boy. He scratched his head whilst turning to Caroline. “We did see a boy, didn’t we?”
She nodded in agreement as the rain washed mud from her face, leaving dark streaks.
Richard looked at his watch. “It’s stopped.” The pain in his chest had decreased but he didn’t appreciate waiting in the rain for a passing motorist.
The deluge weakened but the sky remained dark. In the distance lightning chased black thunderclouds.
“Mine too,” said Caroline. “I wonder what the time is?”
“Haven’t a clue and this isn’t my idea of a picnic. Someone must live nearby who can contact a garage.”
“Which way?” she said, getting to her feet.
He clutched his chest as she helped him to rise. “The way we were travelling. I don’t remember passing any houses before the accident.”
The road seemed endless as they staggered doggedly along, their pace restricted by his injuries.
He shivered as his eyes searched for a light in the dark; some semblance of human inhabitancy had to exist in this God-forsaken county.
For a few minutes, they stopped by a stone wall, Richard leant against it and rested. “Look, over there.” Far off a light shimmered. The size of the building was difficult to determine but it gave them much needed hope. The house was much further than they thought and both were out of breath when they climbed the stone steps to the main door.
“This place has seen better days. When the lightning flashed, you could see the guttering hanging in a few places.”
“Dry would be welcome,” said Caroline as she hammered on the large ornate door. He leaned against the frame, giving the pain in his chest a chance to subside.
Much to their amazement, an elderly couple opened the door. “You poor things, you’re soaked. Come in.” A crash of thunder rattled the windows as they entered.
“I’ll get some towels,” said the man. No sooner had he gone when he returned with a bath towel for each of them.
As she dried her hair and wiped the remnants of the mud from her face, Caroline described the accident and the boy.
The couple sighed. “Encounters with that young man have been the cause of many a mishap. I don’t suppose you noticed he was dressed in rags and wore no shoes?”
“What d’you mean?” said Caroline.
A long silence followed. “He appears real enough,” said the old man, “but legend has it he died under the wheels of a coach long ago. No one knows who he was and why he shows up during a storm.”
“How long has this ghost or whatever been around?”
“Ages,” said the old lady, “As long as I can remember.”
Richard grimaced. “You’re joking. Ghosts don’t exist.”
“You may think that but my wife and I believe differently. When one leaves this existence, especially in fear, something remains behind. You may call it what you wish, we call it the spirit of life.”
Richard interrupted. “Would you mind if we used your telephone to contact a garage? I’ll pay for the call.”
The man glanced at his wife. “If we had one, you’d be most welcome, but we find little use for such modern things. Mr Bell should have been damned when he invented it. Anyway, tomorrow’s another day and as it’s getting late, I suggest you get those wet clothes off and stay here for the night. Our bedrooms are always prepared, so it’s not a problem.”
Richard turned to Caroline, who smiled weakly. “We accept your kind offer. Thank you.”
The old woman said, “It’s our place to help lost and weary travellers. One thing you need to know, we won’t be here in the morning. You will have the entire house to yourselves.”
Caroline glanced at Richard, uncertain.
Richard shrugged. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t see a problem,” he said. “Please make sure the door’s closed when you leave.”
Caroline shook her head wearily. “Will that be alright?”
“What’s necessary will be done,” replied the old woman.
Richard caught the smile that passed between the old couple.
“It’s late and we need our rest,” said the man. “Please follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
They climbed the ornate winding staircase. The quietness of the house seemed eerie. Their footsteps on the polished wooden boards echoed as they walked. The man opened a door and directed them in, not entering himself. “This is a good room; I hope you will be comfortable. Don’t worry if you hear some strange noises, this is a very old house. Good night. Oh, the bathroom’s the third door on the left.” They watched as he disappeared into the dark.
Richard glanced up at the dull light. “The last time I saw something like this was on a school trip visiting Pinewood Studios. They’d just finished one of the Hammer Horror films.”
“I don’t think that’s funny,” said Caroline. She shut the door but noticed that this room, like the rest of the house, contained some magnificent pieces of furniture.
“Who lives like this? said Richard.” All of this furniture should be in a museum. ”
The solitary bed was huge and she tested it for comfort. “The bed’s mine, Richard, seeing your driving got us into this mess.”
He chuckled. “They must think we’re married. You can have it, I’ll sleep on the couch.” The musty smell of an unused room filled his nostrils. “I’m off for a quick wash.”
On his return, he removed his clothes and draped them over the back of a chair. “Hope they dry by the morning. Leave the door ajar, it’ll help you find your way to the loo.”
Caroline removed the top cover from the bed and placed it on the large sofa. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back.”
“Richard, did you see the size of the bath? You could almost swim in it.” Somewhere in the house a clock chimed. “It might be me and I know it’s not cold, but I haven’t stopped shivering since we arrived.”
He admitted to himself his nerves tingled but thought better of mentioning it. “Get undressed under the covers and give me your clothes.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Turn your head away and I’ll strip to my bra and knickers.”
Richard turned out the light and snuggled down on the sofa, wrapped the cover around, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Caroline woke with a start. Her fear grew as a black shape leaned over her. She went to scream but couldn’t as the sound of footsteps retreated across the uncarpeted floor. Jumping out of bed, she ran to Richard and woke him. “Somebody’s in here.”
“Go back to bed,” he mumbled, “It’s nothing but the sounds of an old house.”
“Come and sleep with me,” she pleaded.
“You sure about this?”
“I need you as a protector, not a lover.”
As they walked across the cold wooden floor, they stopped. In the shadows by the window stood the figure of a child, her white dress fluttering as if in a breeze. Caroline’s hand tightened on Richard’s as she stifled a scream. A cold current of air wafted across the room, the curtains flapped, and it was gone.
“What the hell was that?” said Richard. “Definitely a trick of the light.”
“I’m cold and frightened.”
He sighed, realising how tired he was. “Can you sleep with the light on?”
She nodded in agreement. “I’m knackered, let’s try.”
They got into bed and lay close to each other, the warmth of their bodies comforting. The coldness of the cotton sheets made him shiver as he stared at the ceiling. Caroline slept holding his hand.
Some time later, bright shafts of sunlight woke them. Ill at ease, Richard knew he had slept heavily.
Caroline got up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “At least our clothes are dry.” As she dressed, something unseen brushed past. Her panic barely contained as fear filled her mind. She listened but the house was silent. “Whatever happens, don’t leave me on my own,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry, I won’t, but hurry up.”
She did not waste time.
Once dressed, Richard grabbed her hand and went to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. He let go of Caroline and heaved on the handle with both hands, but it remained fast. The smiling faces of the elderly couple appeared and faded. Suddenly it flew open.
With terror etched into his face, he grabbed Caroline’s wrist, they dashed out and ran.
Cobwebs hung like silken drapes from the high ceiling. Their haste disturbed layers of dust.
As they descended the stairs to the main hall, Caroline screamed as rats scurried out of their way. “What’s happening, Richard?”
Confused, he shook his head. “Just run for your life,” he stammered, his voice echoing in the dark, empty spaces that surrounded them.
“I’m with you,” she cried.
Hand in hand they charged across the rubbish-strewn floor to the main entrance, not once stopping or looking back.
With trembling hands, Richard wrenched open the heavy door. It groaned on rusty hinges. When the gap became wide enough, they squeezed through. Strangely, outside the sun shone but there was no bird song, nothing, only silence. With a resounding crash, the doors tumbled inwards.
A tense expression filled Richard’s face. The house behind them was falling apart. He was out of his depth and didn’t know the questions, let alone the answers. “Come on. We can walk to the main road and hitch a lift.”
He dared a glance back. The roof of the grand house gaped to the sky and windowless holes stared vacantly across fields.
Arm in arm, they began the long walk along the track that led to the real world. After a while, they stopped and looked back, stunned. The skeletal ruins of a grand building pointed skyward.
The arrival of the barefoot boy startled them. Richard grabbed him by the wrist. “What are you playing at, boy?”
The boy’s bright eyes sparkled with joy. “I’ve been waiting for you. You think you survived when your car went off the road. I hate to tell you, you didn’t. Your spirits became trapped in the abyss of time. I’m new at this lark and missed you but I knew you’d be back. After all, I am the collector of lost souls.”
About the Author
Ron A. Sewell was born in Leith, Edinburgh. At the age of fourteen, he ran away from home. Heading for the south of France, he found work as a deckhand on luxury yachts. On his return to the United Kingdom, he enlisted in the Royal Navy, eventually becoming a commissioned officer. During his career, he travelled the world, qualifying as an engineer, deck officer, boarding officer, a diver, and parachutist and for a time part of an Air Sea Rescue team. This has given him much experience and many ideas.
Ron has been writing for twenty-three years. He has written numerous short stories (many of them published) and five complete novels to date. Two of the novels, entitled The Collectors, are currently with his agent, who is attempting to sell them to a publisher.
Ron has been writing for twenty-three years. He has written numerous short stories (many of them published) and five complete novels to date. Two of the novels, entitled The Collectors, are currently with his agent, who is attempting to sell them to a publisher.