The Samhain Stone

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A disillusioned woman impulsively joins a Halloween tour.
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1: All Hallows' Eve

The historic Scottish town of Gallowgreen lay sleeping in the dark October night. A new day had started and a nearby church tolled the hours of midnight. The house lay far back from the road, as if hiding. It was protected from the gaze of others by a ring of ash trees crowding thickly around it's darkened walls. Casual passers by would take note of it's wrought iron gates, heavy and imposing, and the beginnings of a path, stretching away to be lost amongst the shadows of the trees. This late in October they had shed their leaves and so it was possible, if a person was curious enough, to make out the dark brickwork of the large house lurking behind the naked branches. By day there was little to attract any interest, and by night there was usually no signs or movement other than the restless motion of the trees. The many windows remained closed and dark throughout the year and the locals had grown used to the idea that the house was cold and empty. It would not be true to say that the house was ever truly forgotten, not by those who were forced to lie in it's shadow, but it could safely be ignored by most people on most nights.

Tonight, however was different, and the chance could be sensed in the very air during these cold still hours of Halloween. For the first time that anyone could remember, lights shone out from the house, their golden light shining through the surrounding mass of branches to send twisting shadows to dance on the road outside, like grasping hands. And what was more surprising, the large iron gates, closed and locked for so many years, now stood open. It gave the appearance that, at long last, the Winter House was stirring itself awake, preparing itself to receive guests maybe, or to allow something to leave.

2: Halloween

It was halfway through day one of a three day business conference and already Rose was rapidly losing the will to live. These things always seemed like a great idea beforehand: the chance to learn new strategies, hear different viewpoints and, God help them all, network, but now the reality was hitting home about how deeply tedious and pointless these things always were. The truth was that, as sociable as she came across at these type of events, at best, she was deeply ambivalent about most of the people here, and, at worst, there were many that she actively despised. She had long ago decided that being imprisoned with a group of jargon spouting escapees from a management cloning facility for most of the week was nothing less than an infringement of her human rights

She was surrounded by people who, she imagined, had been raised from a petri dish to grow into someone who could reduce any idea, no matter how complicated, to a simplistic, acronym friendly sound bite.

Of course the main thing that needled her was the knowledge that, up until fairly recently, she had been one of them. She could still remember feeling fairly excited about coming to these kind of events in the days when she still clung to the delusion that her job was enjoyable and rewarding. This was back when she had believed she had the power to change things. She had long since realized that nothing of any real substance ever really changed and her work, much like these stifling, unbearable conferences, was repetitive and bone crackingly dull. She remembered seeing a woman wearing a T-shirt with the words: "Same Shit, Different Day". It was a great slogan for a T-Shirt, although it was far too close to her own reality for her to find it even remotely funny now.

In previous conferences the opportunity for after-event flirting and maybe even a fling had been at least one silver lining she could rely on, but the conversations so far had convinced her that she would rather shove flip-chart markers into her own eyes than share a hotel room with any of these cliche spouting zombies. When the final session of the day had finally crawled painfully to it conclusion she was asked if she wanted to join a group of attendees who were moving onto a bar. She couldn't think of nothing worse. She made her excuses and fled to her hotel room

She had never visited Gallowgreen before. The problem with conference centres was that they were all pretty much alike. After a while they all merged into one another so that, although her job had taken her around all four corners of the country, it often felt that it was only taking her, via different routes, to the same spacious conference room looking at the same projection screen, delivering the same message year in, year out. She never had any sense of individuality, of difference. She was pretty sure that, barring some world shattering cataclysm, she would be sat in the same hall next year, listening to the same speeches, and looking at the same charts. That was fucking depressing! Something needed to change. She used to tell herself that she would be the one to bring it about, although any belief in her own ability to change the world had been bored out of her long ago.

In previous years her conference timetable had mainly involved speeches, bar then bed (sometimes alone, sometimes not). Second verse, same as the first. The conference this year took place in a hotel situated slap bang in the town centre. Usually this would be seen as an advantage as it meant that she never had to step outside the building. As she paced around her hotel room she took a moment to appreciate the limited view from the window. From this angle the town appeared to be a chaotic tangle of gables and streets, with the cathedral looming over the buildings to dominate the skyline. She had heard good things about Gallowgreen and the idea of spending the evening hiding in her hotel room did not appeal. She just needed to get out. She knew that she had a, as yet unwritten speech to deliver tomorrow but, fuck it, if everyone else was going to resell last year's learning points then so could she.

She studied herself briefly in the mirror. Her dark black hair was cut stylishly short in a pixie cut, a boyish look that her ex-boyfriend had described as sexy and which did serve to accentuate the classic, streamlined features of her face as well as her long, slender neck. Her body was slender, helped by her love of jogging, the only part of her day that she felt content these days. She was wearing a simple outfit of a black pleated skirt along with a white workshirt. She considered changing, maybe even into her jogging outfit, but even the idea of the slight delay this would cause was enough to discount it. She felt trapped and the urge to go outside was strong. In the end she merely removed her heels for more comfortable black shoes and headed for the door.

She had never really been one for sightseeing, she pretty much left that to her retired parents who were currently busy spending the last of her inheritance by touring the nation's many and varied caravan parks. She did not begrudge them, they had earned it, providing they didn't do anything unthinkable such as invite her. For tonight however, she was going to go full tourist and see the sights, or at least what sights were still there to be seen on a Monday evening when everything appeared to be closing down.

The chaos she had seen from her hotel room was matched by her experience on the ground. The town appeared to have been designed by a madman. There did not appear to be a main town centre, just a tangle of narrow streets, many of which doubled back on themselves. The shops were all festooned with cobwebs, skeletons and pumpkins although she was disappointed not to see any kids out trick or treating, although maybe it was a little early. Dusk was bathing the town in an amber glow, mirroring the pumpkins staring at her with malevolent, jagged grins as she passed.

Her attention was caught by a group of people she could see huddled in front of a grand, dark stone building she took to be the town library. They were a mixed group, ranging from an elderly couple, maybe in their 70s, to a small collection of young men and women that had the look of students. They appeared to be waiting in front of the main entrance next to a large, imposing stone statue of a bald man in scholarly robes carrying a large, heavy looking book.

Separate from the group she could see a young, slender man dodging in and out of traffic handing out leaflets with an agility which was as eye-catching as it was reckless. Usually Rose prided herself on her ability to dodge pamphleteers and charity workers before they even had the chance to get near her, but this time her curiosity got the better of her.

It helped, of course, that she could already tell the man was quite strikingly good-looking. He was of a similar age to her, mid to late twenties, with an almost wolfish look about him which she couldn't help but find immediately attractive. His long, dark hair stretched in wild curls almost to the collar of his black leather jacket and he was sporting at least a week's worth of dark stubble. She imagined that he may have been able to pull off a deep, brooding look were it not for the relaxed, easy smile he was now turning in her direction. She had a moment to take in the colour of his eyes, which were a curiously arresting mix of of emerald green and gunmetal grey, before she noticed what it was he was handing out, and she felt her body sag a little in disappointment.

"Ghoulish Ghost Tours for Halloween" was the main heading, written in suitably dripping red type across the leaflet's top. He seemed to notice the change in her body language as he approached although, if anything, his grin actually broadened. He's probably used to people telling him to fuck off, she thought, as she brought her hand up in a dismissive gesture hoping to forestall any sales pitch before it began. This did not deter him in the least.

"Are you interested in the ghost walk?" he said, in a deep voice that had a pleasing scottish lilt to it, "It's a special night for it, where else would you want to spend the night of Samhain." He pronounced the last word as "sowen" and, for a moment, she was confused. She was adamant that, whatever he meant, he wasn't going to draw her in. Despite this, she found herself slowing down and even, for fuck's sake, reaching up to take the leaflet. Jesus, she was usually more assertive than this, she told herself. The slightest trace of a Scott's accent and a smile and she turns into a bloody teenager.

"I'm sorry," she said, with what she hoped was a pleasant smile, "but I'm probably not your target audience. I don't want to be rude but, to be completely honest with you, I'm all bullshitted out for one day." Why the hell was she even talking to him? usually she would have thrown herself into traffic rather than be sucked into a conversation like this.

"Do I detect a certain degree of skepticism?" He was amused and, for a moment, she had the irritating notion that he was teasing her.

"I like a ghost story as much as the next person," she said, trying to keep her tone light, "but it's not really my idea of a good time to spend an evening walking miles in a town I don't know listening to fairy stories."

At least he wasn't offended, he accepted her comments with a nod and didn't seem to feel the need to get into an argument. But he didn't move away either, so she tried a different tack.

"Be serious for a second. Do you actually believe any of this stuff? I mean, really? If I coughed up the money and came on your tour, how much of what I'd hear would be total and utter horseshit?"

"Almost all of it." He said with a nod. The quickness of the response, coupled with the relaxed delivery was so unexpected that she burst out laughing.

"Almost?" She said, grinning, only slightly aggrieved by the realisation that, against her better judgement, she was actually being won over here. He nodded his head again and, for a moment, almost looked serious. She had to admit, he did look much more attractive once he'd lost the smile.

"I promise you," he began, "that if you decide to give the tour a chance, most of what you hear will be bullshit of the most highest order."

"So, you want me to pay money to be lied to? And your quite up front about this? I have to say it's an interesting sales technique."

He shrugged, accepting the point. "True, but your missing the main bit. Most of what I will say will be crap to get the tourists in and relieve them of their money. Most, but not all. Some of what I'll show you will be real, you have my word on that."

"And I suppose I will need to cough up my own, hard earned, tourist money in order to find out which is which? I really don't think so. look, you almost had me, I'll give you that, but it's been a really hard, boring day and I'm just not interested." Flashing him a smile to let him know there were no hard feelings she edged around him and began to walk away.

"How about this?" He said, his voice bringing her to a stop. "you come on the tour but you hold onto your money, at least for now. I promise you here and now, if you come on this walk you will see and hear a shitload of fake crap. But, if you see it through to the end you will see something that is real. I guarantee it! If, at the end of the night, your not convinced, you get to keep your money and I'll apologise for wasting your time."

"But," he continued, and he seemed deadly serious now. Maybe there was a salesperson in him after all, she thought, "If I'm right, and you see something that's real, and that you can't explain, then you pay me double."

Now she was curious. "How on earth do you make any money if you keep making offers like that?"

He held her gaze. "I have never made an offer like that before. This one is only for you. One night only; for one person only."

Now, she definitely wasn't imagining this. definite signs of flirting. OK, flirting to get her money but flirting nonetheless. Part of her was was irritated that he should think such an obvious and cliched sales technique would work. But that was nothing compared to her sense of irritation that such an obvious and cliched attempt was working. Deny it as she might, she found that she was in no great hurry to go anywhere. He had sparked her curiosity, her interest. It might be fun to just relax and see where this led.

"Well. I'm honoured, but let's make it a bit more interesting. I'm not interested in a freebie, I'm happy to pay. I'll buy a ticket but and, if you convince me by the end of the night I'll give you double. If you don't then you pay me double."

"I'm not really a betting man."

"Well that depends on how confident you are about your tour. Is it one hundred percent shite or isn't it?" Nat was silent for a moment, and Rose thought she may have misjudged the situation, but then he nodded.

"How about triple play?"

"If your that confident, who am I to refuse." She held out her hand to seal the deal. Nat seemed to hesitate for a moment, before shaking. It was a firm, confident handshake and Rose was struck by how cool his skin felt to the touch. She paid up her money, and Nat directed her across the road to wait with the other customers.

Considering November was lurking just over the horizon, the evening was unseasonably warm. Rose had come out wearing a dark jacket, a decision she was beginning to regret. She hoped that the temperature would begin to drop now that the sun had passed out of sight behind the cathedral. While she waited for Nat to start the tour she eavesdropped on some of the conversations going on around her. They did seem to be a decidedly mixed bunch: English accents mixed with Scottish and it seemed to her that most of the people around her were not local.

She watched as Nat walked over to the statue and hauled himself up onto the plinth with an agility and strength that Rose could not fail to notice. Clapping his hands sharply to gain the group's attention he began: ' If I could have everyone's attention I'd like to begin by thanking you for turning up to celebrate Halloween by letting me show you some sights and tell you a few stories. Those of you new to the town...' and at this his dark eyes settled on Rose, only for an instant, but enough to sent a small tremor of nervous excitement from her chest down this her stomach, 'your very welcome. And don't worry about being on a ghost hunt in a strange town after nightfall. Your perfectly safe, I assure you the locals stopped burning outsiders in huge wicker men a long time ago... or at least they haven't done it this month at any rate'. This prompted a ripple of laughter through the crowd. He continued: 'and those of you who are local, I hope to show you a side of your city that you have never seen before. A darker side. One I hope you remember long after your back tucked up safety in your own beds. Or somebody else's bed, it's really none of my concern.' This again prompted laughter. For a moment Rose had expected a glance in her direction and was slightly disappointed when Nat simply moved on.

"But, before I get to the good, gory stuff there are a few boring health and safety announcements I need to get through. Firstly, I am going to ask you all to stick close to me. If any of you get lost, I'm not coming to find you and we will have to leave you behind for... whatever it is that finds you. Seriously though, we only have permission to be in specific places at specific times. we don't want anyone wandering off in search of their own little adventures,. Follow my lead and stick close. Secondly, and I'm being very serious about this one. I don't care if you believe in ghosts, don't believe in them or just don't know. Tonight we are going into places that are going to be seeping in spiritual energy. For most people this isn't a problem but not everyone. I would strongly suggest that if there is anyone who has ever been assessed as being "spiritually sensitive" then you come and see me, and I will give you a full refund. Please take me seriously on this point, if any of you are at all psychic then I cannot guarantee your safety."

She had to admit he was good at spouting this kind of crap with a straight face. The warning about being "spiritually sensitive" had almost sounded genuine. Of course, it helped that his voice was an absolute pleasure to listen to. It was a curious mix of Scots with an occasional hint of European. The effect added to an overall sense of mystery and she wondered whether that too was false. Fake or not she would gladly have listened to him read the back of a cereal box with that voice. She was sure that he could even be able to make the sales projection for the next quarter sound exotic and interesting.

Nat reached up and patted the arm of the statue behind him: "Do any of you know who this learned gentleman is?" Somebody spoke up from the group but Rose failed to catch the name. "Exactly!" Nat proclaimed, "Full marks, you can stay." Rose caught side of a attractive young blonde woman who appeared to be blushing. Rose guessed that she had been the one to call out. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this fine fellow here is Joseph Winter, a man of fine reputation: town magistrate, learned scholar and all-round fine fellow. Providing you stayed within the law of course. If you crossed over into criminality of course good old Joseph would hang you soon as look at you. But our dealings tonight are not with him, even though he probably had more deaths on his conscience than a hundred Jack the Rippers. Joseph, you see, had a son. Does anyone know what his name was?"

Again the blonde woman called out, and Nat responded by clapping: "Correct again miss. I have a feeling I should just hand over to you and be done with it." The blonde woman beamed, and Rose felt a tiny twinge of resentment. "For those of you who don't know, Joseph's son was called Edgar Winter, and Edgar Winter was not as troubled with the law as his father was. Edgar Winter, so the story goes, was a thief, a smuggler, black magician and Gallowgreen's very own serial killer. Every town should have one. The plan tonight, ladies and gentlemen, is for me to show you around the town, tell you some stories, and, for a grand finale, I will take you into Edgar Winter's home to show you what many people believed was the source of his evil power: the Samhain Stone. Which, as you may know, is very appropriate for tonight. So, that's enough blather from me. Any questions? No? OK, try and keep up."