A Gift in the Dark

Veiled Intent

Veiled Intent

There are places where the walls between realities are thin. Places where communication is possible; where doors can open, Death's dark veil can be parted, and things can pass either way. Protect yourself from evil or you will be lost...

Cameron had to admit it, he was enjoying the evening so far, despite himself.

A few months previously, his dippy and delightfully long-legged girlfriend had announced she'd won a competition. Finally, all the vacant hours spent poring over a myriad of celebrity gossip and competition mags had paid off, and they'd arrived at what was reputed to be 'The Most Haunted Inn in Britain' late in the afternoon.

He'd sighed inwardly as they arrived. The middle of Bodmin Moor wasn't where he wanted to be. Only the idea of a dirty weekend with the recently enhanced Gwen had kept him going. No clubs, no Spearmint Rhino, no scantily clad bimbos parading themselves around to letch at. Cornwall appeared to be all gorse, sheep, real ale and rocks. No real estate to buy into, no business ventures, no chance to add to the family fortune.

The lights went out and their host's voice whispered into the darkness.

"You are now in the most haunted room of the Inn. It is rumoured that this room was built on the site of a standing stone, with several ley lines crossing through the centre of the room. Stand still and wait, see what you can feel."

Cameron was already taking the opportunity to feel a large handful of the giggling Gwen's rear end and was content, but he stopped as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Wow!" gasped a lady behind him. "You won't believe this!"

He'd noticed the eccentric looking middle-aged lady as they walked in. She looked like she belonged on the set of Ghostbusters and had brought a specially modified camera in with her, all infrared gadgetry and hypersensitive light monitoring sensors. She spun back the footage and showed the built in screen to the other five people in the room. Twenty seconds of footage showed a mote of light wink into life, wander jerkily around the room and caress the back of Cameron's shoulders before darting away into the wall in front of them.

"I think you've pulled Cam," giggled Gwen. "And you said I was the only one who gave you goose bumps."

The lights came back to life and the dapper man guiding them around the Inn beamed at them. "Right, well that was a good start. This way everyone."

Cameron hung back, holding Gwen to him as he muttered in her ear. "Good air conditioning and the woman with the camera probably comes on every tour. Come on, let's find our room and do a little more exploring?"

"Honestly, all you ever think about is sex. Come on, we've got the Burning Girl to find."

Cameron slouched along at the back of the group sulking for a few moments, but cheered up as they passed through one of the small bars that dotted the Inn. A few minutes later he caught up with Gwen and the rest of the group, a large whisky warming him inside, another in his hand.

"Sorry pet, fancied a drink. Want a sip?"

"Shhh," Gwen stage whispered as the man carried on his monologue.

"... and some people have smelt burning or heard the crackling of flames. Nobody knows why the girl haunts the Inn, as we think she died in the Great Fire of London. Perhaps she came from the area and returned when she died, or maybe she visited here and the Inn held a special place in her heart. Unfortunately we've never managed to find out." He shrugged and gestured towards a nearby door.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the next part of your ghostly experience here at the Jamaica, please proceed into the room on your right and we'll see if we can make contact."