Yarn Spinner 2: More Stories: Includes the Third Installment of Touched

Contents

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

A FEW WORDS ABOUT TOUCHED

TOUCHED: WHEN DARK THINGS STIR (THE CERBERUS FOUNDATION)

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY ONE

TWENTY TWO

ROAD RAGE:

LITTLE OLD WOMAN

VERSUS WHITE VAN MAN

TWENTY FOUR

TWENTY FIVE

TWENTY SIX

TWENTY SEVEN

TWENTY EIGHT

TWENTY NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY ONE

THIRTY TWO

THIRTY THREE

THIRTY FOUR

THIRTY FIVE

MICK'S FAREWELL

AFTERTHOUGHT

WITH LOVE FROM GERARD. XXX.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY ONE

NOTES

RESEARCH MATERIAL

SCREAMERS

(A LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE)

INTRODUCTION

TAKEAWAY CATASTROPHE

HEARSE ON THE HARD SHOULDER

JOB CENTRE TELEPHONE CONVERSATION

SCHOOL ESSAY

I-SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE…

RELOCATION,

RELOCATION, RELOCATION

MIND YOUR LANGUAGE

MORE BAD LANGUAGE

WHY WON’T IT GO?

THE NEW MONDEO

SNAP!

WHO’S SHE?

OLD TIMERS

FULL HOUSE

TV TRICKERY

EXCUSE ME!

A FISHY TALE

IMPRESSIVE WORDS

FROM ONE SO YOUNG

GENERATION GAP

WHAT FIRE?

WAKEY! WAKEY!

A WINDY NIGHT

FIFTY ONE SCREAMERS OR

HOW TO ANGER A SUBEDITOR

YELLOW JACKET

SWIPE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

ToucheD: A Story of Love and Revenge from Beyond the Grave

Yarn Spinner: The Stories

For my family and friends.

A FEW WORDS ABOUT TOUCHED

So, here it is: the third installment of the story. There definitely won’t be a fourth, or so the ending to this book would indicate. All the usual now follows.

What you are about to read is a story – an invention, a fiction, something made up. So I won’t apologise for any factual mistakes – my interpretation of the workings of the judiciary, for example - because I think in a story like this, mistakes like those don’t really matter. Some ‘facts’ I have deliberately manipulated anyway to suit the story. Any ‘typos’, you can blame the proof reader – me!

That’s it, really.

Oh, I must thank the staff at the self-publishing company, AuthorHouse, for their invaluable help and advice in the production of the three installments of ‘ToucheD’. Also, thanks (and apologies!) to Kirsty, Julie and Tim.

The Kennedys continue their journey into the unknown and would like you to join them.

As Jack would say, just watch out for the dark things.

K. L. LaMarsh,

Halifax,

West Yorkshire.

TOUCHED: WHEN DARK THINGS STIR (THE CERBERUS FOUNDATION)

It was the day when dark things stirred; the day when all Hell began to seep through to the world of the living.

The gradually building power of the dark things would soon be in danger of unleashing beings from the underworld of Hades upon unsuspecting mortals.

Disaster and the end of normality loomed. A bleak future seemed set for mankind.

All this came to the attention of two people in particular.

A bleak future? Not if we can help it, eh, Jimmy, said Michaela to her husband.

This day, the day of the ‘seeps’, had not yet dawned.

ONE

Two promises were made on Michaela and Jimmy’s wedding day - one between the groom and his bride and the other between two very unsavoury characters.

I will always be by your side, Michaela, Jimmy whispered in his bride’s ear after he had kissed her.

The vicar had just concluded the wedding ceremony of Jimmy O’Connell and Michaela Kennedy. The kindly representative of the church then gave leave for the two newlyweds to kiss and they did so with passion. Jimmy then made the promise. Michaela smiled at him.

You’d better be, she whispered back and squeezed his hand affectionately.

Bride and groom hugged and faced their guests in the congregation. Jimmy and Michaela walked down the aisle towards the church doors and to married life.

*

The main doors of H. M. Prison, Glasburgh swung open at exactly the same time as the church doors did so in Glendale.

Clarence Heron and Kirsty Dixon-White stepped out of their sombre prison into sunlight. Their first day of freedom after fifteen years of incarceration was about to begin.

The murder charge had been lessened to manslaughter after the couple’s defence team had struck a deal with the prosecution. Give us the names of other cult members, the prosecutors had said, and maybe we can prevent future killings. Do the decent thing and we will agree to lessen the charge.

Dixon-White had memorized half a dozen names; these people she thought were capable of murder and she had given their names to the prosecution team. They had seemed satisfied and would pass these names onto the police, so that the suspects could be watched; there movements traced. Sacrificial lambs, that’s all they are, thought Dixon-White. The Cerberus Foundation will continue while the authorities are preoccupied with these lambs to the slaughter!

I promise you one thing, Dixon-White now said to her partner.

And what would that be? asked Heron.

People will pay, she said and then sealed her slash-like lips.

Dixon-White folded her arms.

After a few moments silence she spoke again.

Where is that damn taxi? she said through gritted teeth.

She was about to explode in a fit of temper when a taxi drew up to the kerbside, halting where the two would- be passengers stood.

Heron opened the rear door of the vehicle for Dixon-White, who clambered in most un-ladylike, pushing him out of the way. She was eager to get as far from the prison as possible. Heron slammed the door after her. Charming, he thought, and then hurried round to the other side of the car and took his seat next to her.

Where to, Madam? the taxi driver asked.

The Cerberus Foundation, she replied and handed him a business card. The address is on here.

The driver took a few seconds to read what was printed on the card. He frowned.

That’s quite a distance, Madam, he said after contemplating the amount of driving he would have to do. I could do with the money, though, he thought. If you are sure….

Just drive, was all Dixon-White said.

Like the day of the ‘seeps’, the two promises and the taxi ride were still many years in the future.

TWO

Both Michaela Kennedy and Jimmy O’Connell had been overjoyed when Janice and Martin met up again after so long separated.

Janice Kennedy’s mobile phone sounded, alerting her to the incoming call. Michaela had arranged with Jimmy when his Grandfather should make contact and so she was now sat on the settee with her Nan Janice.

Martin’s name flashed up on the phone’s display.

Oh my! said Janice. It’s Martin. After all these years, I wonder why he is calling.

Because Jimmy suggested that he did, Michaela thought, but didn’t say.

Michaela smiled knowingly, slouched back on the settee, and left her Nan to reminisce with Martin.

Jimmy O’Connell had that same smile (more of a grin in his case, though) on his face. He too sat back and waited.

*

After almost one and three quarter hours Janice and Martin ended their talk. During that time Jimmy hadn’t dared leave the room, but had grown bored after the first thirty minutes. He’d eventually dozed off.

Tell me, tell me, said Michaela, now sat up straight. She’d remained awake and alert during the course of the conversation, imagining what Martin was saying on the other end of the phone. What did Martin say, Nan?

Well, he would like to meet, replied Janice. Oh my! It will be so lovely to see Martin again.

Michaela threw her arms around her Nan and briefly hugged her. Michaela released her and brushed a tress of hair from her Nan’s forehead (Mick, my sweet Mick, thought Janice; a memory of good times now gone surfacing for a fleeting second) before kissing her lightly there.

I am so happy for you, Nan, Michaela said. You deserve a bit of joy in your life.

*

What did she say? asked Jimmy.

Martin grinned at his Grandson. That said it all.

Jimmy hugged his Grandfather.

*

We’ve arranged to meet next weekend, on the Saturday, Janice said to her two boys; a noticeable lilt in her voice. I hope you don’t mind.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but Michaela didn’t let him utter a word.

Of course they don’t, she said.

Come here, you, teased Jack as he reached out to playfully grab at his daughter. Michaela is right, Jack laughed. We don’t mind, truly we don’t; do we Ben?

Actually, we were wondering when you and Martin would meet again, Ben said; this directed at his mother. No, we don’t mind at all, Mum.

He can never replace your father, Janice said. A sad expression clouded her face.

We know he can’t, Jack said. As long as you are happy; that’s all that should matter.

*

Janice Kennedy and Martin O’Connell met as arranged in the centre of Mancaster; not far from Mount Erebus Secondary School; at a pleasant little cafe on the high street. Jimmy and Michaela had accompanied their respective Grandparents on the journey to the rendezvous.

See you later, Nan, said Michaela. Give me a call on my mobile when you want me and Jimmy to come back here.

Bye, Jimmy said and waved at Janice and his Grandfather before they turned and disappeared into the cafe.

Have fun, replied Martin over his shoulder.

The children left the two adults alone.

*

Jimmy and Michaela wandered around the shopping centre of Mancaster City. They looked in shop windows and each wished they’d had enough money on them to buy the things they saw. Neither of them had thought to put much money in their pockets. After all, Janice and Martin had paid for each of the children’s fares into Mancaster.

Not even enough for an ice cream, commented Jimmy.

*

Ice cream or cream on your pudding? asked the canteen attendant in a monotone, from behind the serving hatch. A line of prisoners formed a more or less orderly queue behind the person in front.

Cream, said Kirsty Dixon-White.

The attendant poured cream from a metal jug onto the apple pie (which was served in a metal bowl), splashing some on the counter as she did so. She mopped it up with one of her fingers and scraped it on the rim of the bowl.

I’ve changed my mind, said Dixon-White. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.

Suit yourself, said the attendant. Next!

Dixon-White moved away from the serving hatch and went to sit by herself at a table in the canteen of the female wing of H.M. Prison, Glasburgh.

Clarence Heron also sat alone in the canteen of the male wing. He had ice cream on his pudding.

Both sat in silence, hoping that no other person would join them at their respective tables; just the way that each of them liked things to be.

Dixon-White and Heron kept themselves to themselves and minded their own business for the duration of their sentences. The rest of those incarcerated thought this odd, but respected each individual’s privacy. Anyway, best not to get involved with a murderer, was the opinion of the majority of the inmates.

Heron had read most of the books in the small library housed in the male wing. Conversely, Dixon-White hardly ever visited the library in her wing. She was content to exercise daily in the gymnasium. Got to keep myself fit, she thought. One day I will be free of this place. Fit in mind and body; ready to take on anything that the outside world may throw at me. One day.

Heron was certainly fit in mind, but the body was another