At the Lake

‘Do you know, it took me a long time to reconcile with this.’He looked back to the window, watching a deer grazing at the forest’s edge, panting and crying coming from behind him. The winter’s snow-covered the forest before him. A deer was lapping at a puddle by its hooves before a crack in the midst sent it bolting into the trees.

‘I don’t know…if this is right…if…if…but fuck, why did you have to do it?!’ He turned and flung the hunting knife he was holding into the knee of a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. His scream rent the air, the windows of the room practically reverberating with his pain, as the knife was pulled out and the man stormed out of the room into the cold, wintry air.

Breathing hard and eager to distance himself from the yells behind him, he trudged through the snow, heading towards a jetty which sat snugly before a huge, frozen lake. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumble and before he knew it, he was kneeling to sit at the water’s edge. The silence was deafening, the air freezing, the mist over the distant forests creating a cocoon from which his thoughts screamed and ripped at the edges.

Only 2 short years earlier, his life had been perfect. A happy marriage, decent job, baby on the way, and in one terrible evening, it changed forever. As he ruffled his hair, all he could think about was her; next minute, his imaginings, more terrible than the actual crime, came to the fore and he shook his head, as if trying to throw off an annoying fly, and looked out to the lake.

As he looked, it changed before him. The sky, misty white, changed to periwinkle blue and the newly arrived sun shone over a busy lake; lots of boaters, plenty of swimmers, and the sound of music, chatter, and splashing muffled from the distance. He watched as a rowing boat broke off from the clutter of boats on the far west side of the lake and moved towards a wooded section on the northeast side. He remembered that day all too well. This was where he’d asked his girlfriend to marry him. He had many happy memories at this lake and he’d inherited the lakeside lodge his parents had bought when he was still a child. It seemed the perfect spot to do it. She’d said yes, they made love in the boat and were married only a month later. 3 and a half months after that, she’d gone, taken by a drunk who walked on a technicality. It had taken a while to find him but find him he did, laughing at a comedy in his home, still drinking.

Getting him out was easy and transporting him to the cabin just as simple but now everything seemed muddled. After cutting this man, doing what he never (at one point) thought possible, his mind was once again racing. What am I doing? he asked himself on occasions when his wife slipped into view. This isn’t me. But even as he thought that, the images of his wife in pain erupted in his mind and the anger burst through again.

Before he knew it, he was crying into his hands, the tears falling into his blood-red hands. He lifted his head to look back at her one last time but the scene had disappeared. The wintry sky had appeared once more, the frozen lake was empty and his stuttered breath hovered before in the air.

He got to his feet and turned to make the short walk back to the lodge. In no time at all, he entered, the man tied to the chair looking at him. His face, bloodied from cuts to his head and face, was blotchy owing to large purple bumps appearing around the eyes, one completely blocking his left eye.

‘P…pl..ease…don’t do this.’

The man looked away as the tortured man continued. I’m so…so…sorry,’ he said under renewed sobs. ‘I never meant to…to hurt her…’

‘DON’T!!’ yelled the man and punched the man in the chair so hard that his chair fell back onto the floor with a crash, a picture from a nearby dresser falling to the floor with a smash. Rubbing his hand, the man moved back towards the window, breathing hard as the man in the chair moaned. Aside from the sound of breathing and sobbing, the lodge was quiet for a moment before the tortured man spoke again.

‘Does this make you feel better,’ asked the tortured man.

The man by the window looked from the bound man to his wounds, at the bloodied knife in his hands, to the picture of his wife on the floor. He looked around the lodge, memories swimming in and out of vision, and the anger slipped away, the loss heightened as he thought of his wife. Her face, her smile, her touch.

‘No,’ he replied and in one quick movement, he flung his legs either side of a shotgun leaning against a chair and pulled the trigger, sending his head flying in all directions.

Under the Skin

And so it continues! Quick now, while Nightmarish Evil Ogre is spell-bound, read the next of the horrible horror stories!

‘Ssshhhh!’ His hands gripped the wall, his fingers slipping in the gaps as he heard a yell nearby. He peered tentatively around the corner and saw a lone figure out in the street, looking around frantically. ‘What’s going on?’ asked a hushed voice behind him. He turned to answer but the sound of footsteps cut him short. Lots of footsteps. He looked back to the street and saw the figure turn tail and run, a few seconds later followed by around a dozen masked figures. More yells, more shouts, and the footsteps died away. ‘I think they’ve gone,’ he said turning to the woman and child behind him. ‘Look, I don’t think we can stay here. We need to move.’

The child gripped his mother, the woman looking up at her husband, her panicked eyes searching his face. Blood was
gently falling from a large gash at the side of his face and his shirt was partially ripped and covered in what looked like dust. His wife and child were physically unhurt but their fear was evident. He gripped his wife’s hand and looking once more around the corner said, ‘come on, let’s move.’ The child grasped his mother’s hand, his mother grabbed her husband by the hand and he led them away from the police building they had hidden behind. As they approached the street, a small fire smouldering in a bin, he looked up at the building they were just hiding behind. Its main doors were hanging off, the windows were either cracked or completely smashed and small fires licked the night air through some of the open windows. Various messages and warnings had been graffitied on the brick, some a call to arms, others political or organisational logos. There was no one around but he could hear the echo of a megaphone in the distance and the roars that greeted each pronouncement which, from this distance, was a low murmur in the breeze. ‘It sounds like a good way away,’ said the man, turning to his wife. ‘Probably still back home.’ She gripped his hand tighter as he whispered, ‘come on, let’s go.’

He led them onto the street and headed towards a group of buildings from which, he knew, was only half a mile from their destination – his in-laws, who owned a large house just outside the suburbs. It was neatly tucked away from the main roads, their own private getaway, and, most importantly, safe from the violence that was occurring on the main streets. They moved quickly but quietly, not wanting to draw attention, but they had to be careful; the streets were littered with rubbish, cars were burnt out – though fires were still crackling away in some – and the dark of the night felt more oppressive than ever, especially since many of the street lights had been damaged and the lights that would usually have come from closed shop windows had been destroyed. He’d have led them around the back of some of the buildings but the silence had been deafening and the sharp cries that split the night reduced his son to tears and his wife to a nervous wreck which forced him to change tack. He just had to hope that the trouble remained where it was and there were no splinter groups wreaking their own havoc elsewhere.

Every step felt like an age. Any sound, whether it was the crackling of a fire or the occasional shout cracked the night air like a bullet, forcing them to stop, take stock and listen before continuing. On one occasion, a crowd of people, wailing and yelling, ran through a nearby alleyway, forcing them to duck behind a shelter and wait. While his wife and son crouched lower down behind him, he took a furtive glance to see what was going on and, with a fire reflecting the shadows on a huge wall a few hundred yards from him, he saw a ghoulish zoetrope flash up and disappear in an instance, the yells vanishing with them. He turned back to his wife and son. ‘They’ve gone. Let’s keep going, we’re nearly there.’ His wife pulled him back before he could take a step. ‘Jerry? What about Brian? We should find somewhere safe and wait for him?’

Jerry looked down at his wife and though he was hoping, praying that his brother was in one piece, his only thought at the moment was getting his wife and son to safety. ‘We can’t, Susan..’ and seeing she was about to interrupt him,
‘Look, I’m sure he got out safely. If he’s got any sense, he’ll be looking to find somewhere safe himself…Maybe, he’ll be heading this way.’ As a scream rent the air, she acquiesced silently and gripped his hand, allowing him to lead them on. They kept low but moved quickly and in no time at all, they reached safety behind the town’s hardware store. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the journey from here to his in-laws would be largely interrupted; the violence was mainly concentrated around the towns. He looked towards Susan and his son.

‘That’s the hard bit out of the way. If we get onto Martha’s neighbour’s field, we can blow right through, as easy as….
aaAAAAHHHH!’ He leapt around as a hand crushed his shoulder and found himself facing his brother, a wild look on his bruised and dusty face. ‘Brian!’ he yelled, gripping his brother in a tight bear hug. He let go after a few seconds and looked him in the face. ‘What happened? Where did you…how…were you there?’ His brother looked back at him, sweat mingled with dirt slightly glistening on his forehead. ‘I got there when the first floor collapsed.’ He looked towards his sister-in-law and nephew. ‘I’d hoped you’d got out before then…I think I was knocked out by the garden door.’ He glanced back up at his brother. ‘Jez, what happened? Why did they go for yours and how did you get out?’
Jerry looked down at his wife and grimaced. ‘I don’t know. We heard the shouting on the streets at the same time we felt the heat on the floor. The alarm was blaring and before we knew it, we felt the floor move.’ He looked to his wife, who continued. ‘I think…I think we might have been targeted.’ A curious expression crossed her face, fear mixed with anger, as she looked from Brian to her husband. ‘As we were leaving, we saw Barry from Tellers in the street.’ She moved slightly away from her son, as she whispered, ‘…they were killing him.’ Jerry and Brian exchanged worried looks before Susan continued.

‘Look, we need to do what Jez says…we need to get to my parents, we’ve got to get off the streets before they or their allies find us.’ She lifted her son to his feet and the two men nodded. ‘Keep quiet, keep low,’ muttered Jerry and once again, they swept into the night, following a route they knew all too well, from the car park behind the hardware store to an alleyway which led into the countryside. They scampered into a field, hunched closely together, and ran through the rapeseed, hands in front to stop it flicking back into their faces. After ten minutes or so, a large house came into view, behind a high walled garden and wrought iron fence. It was lit by spotlights under the large, mullioned front windows, its sandstone walls reflecting the shadow of a fountain that stood at its entrance.

When the small group reached the edge of the field, they looked out onto the driveway, making sure it was clear before stepping into the moonlight and heading towards the house. As they moved towards it, they noticed that the gate was open and the sound of music whispering into the night. Figures moved on the lawn in front of the house and around the fountain and the edge of a large banner could be seen just above a statue of a gargoyle, one of two, positioned on either side of the gate. Brian put his arm out and Jerry walked into it.‘What are you doing?’ he said looking into his brother’s face, as Brian allowed Susan and his nephew to pass.

‘I’m sorry, Jerry,’ said Susan, as she took hold of her son and fled towards the house. He watched her go and there was a short lull in the night before Brian broke it. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry too, Jez.’ ‘For what?’ Jez said, turning to his brother.

It was a few hours later. The horizon glowed a muted pink and smoke from the overnight fires continued to rise into the air, dissipating as it reached the heavens, which was slowly turning from purple to blue, the last of the stars flickering into the ether. A crow flew through one of the plumes and glided over the town while below, a lone figure ran through a gate towards a large house, leaving another lying in the grass behind them.

The View from England

On the 3rd of November this year, the US will hold what I believe to be the most important presidential election of our time. Over the last decade or so, times have indeed been-a-changing but not for the better. The left have picked up their pace, with more infringements on our civil liberties, further laws to divide our communities, and a vociferous hatred of the people and values that built our great countries – the United States and Britain. Over the last few months, we have seen our countries face lockdowns, which our leaders claim are to stop a virus, which is only affecting certain sections of our societies, and the people are constantly being forced fed a diet of fear spread predictably through a mainstream media directing their truths and backed up by a political class whose only aim is to take more power.

Throughout this period, we have seen the rise of the far left, in the Marxist group Black Lives Matter, which cares as much for black lives as the Democrats care for the future of their country, and the terrorist organisation, Antifa. Both groups’ aims are to cause chaos throughout the country, spreading fear within communities which they look to divide while tearing down the history, culture, and values of both countries and all the while making ridiculous demands like defunding the police, something which would enable the chaos to continue and spread. At any other time, both organisations would be ignored but they have the support of Democrats, in the States, and the left in our country which, unfortunately, includes our government, formerly known as the Conservative Party. It is a wretched state of affairs in both our countries and I’m hopeful that the cultural counter-revolution, wherever that may come from, starts sooner rather than later. Do I see the re-election of Trump as a way to move that on in the States? Sadly, no. Despite Trump being in charge, the horrific events we’ve seen in the last few months have been allowed to continue and the president has been able to do little about it. Whether that’s because it’s an election year and he’s reluctant to get involved or because Democrats have the mandate over their states, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s pivotal for Trump to be elected, certainly from our perspective.

First off, because of Brexit. Biden was Obama’s vice president during his 2 terms in office and as we know, Obama stated that the UK would be at the back of the queue for any trade deals. If Biden was elected, I’d expect this message to remain. If anything, he would probably urge Britain to rethink its membership with the EU and with our useless leaders, we’d probably find ourselves pulled back in, despite the democratic mandate given by our people in 2016. Trump, on the other hand, values this country but he’s a businessman, at the end of the day, and he’ll negotiate hard for a deal that works for his country over any other. That’s good because at least we’ll get the opportunity to negotiate rather than being in a position where we’re shunted to the outer edges while being redirected back to Brussels. Biden might be favoured by our elite but many of our people won’t be too happy at seeing him in power, especially with Kamala Harris at his side. They won’t work for the interests of the American people at large and they certainly will do us no favours.

Secondly, because it’s important that a conservative remains in charge of the US. It’s also important that when the opportunity arises to re-elect governors, that chance is taken by the people of the US. The states that are seeing the most turmoil – rises in crime and unemployment – are Democrat-run states and I do hope the people suffering in those places recognise that their leaders have done nothing to help them, only exacerbate the issues. Electing conservatives will be a huge boon for the people who have watched the chaos ensue and businesses destroyed while their leaders have sat on their hands and done nothing.

Proper conservative leaders are few and far between across the world and with the globalists and quangos, like the UN, keen to alter the way we operate globally, it’s important that there is a pushback on many of their plans. Trump is not influenced by these bodies and has already removed his country from some of these groups, which act against the interests of not only the American people but many other countries too.

After watching, for the last few years, a government in this country abandon its conservative values and slide to the left, favouring positive discrimination and identity politics, which installed hate crime in our legislation and has allowed common purpose to take over our institutions, it makes me envious to see President Donald J Trump sit in the White House. I wish we had someone like him here. Someone who doesn’t pander to the left or thuggish organisations or to the media but someone with the balls to stand for his values.

You are in a very fortunate position and I hope that we will see, on the 4th of November, President Trump ready to take his place as your head of state for a further 4 years.

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