.bmp)
“In
1901 Edwardian London, Mister Jericho Tibbs is a successful defence lawyer,
happily married to a beautiful young actress; Elizabeth Featherstone. But
strange circumstances surrounding the disappearance of his equally beautiful
sister-in-law; Doctor Alexandra Featherstone drags Jericho into the dark world
of the supernatural, demons and time travel. What Jericho discovers changes his
life and his death!”
THIS EPISODE MAY CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS:
SMOKING - ALCOHOL USE - VIOLENCE [INCLUDING SEXUAL VIOLENCE & BDSM] - STRONG LANGUAGE - GRAPHIC HARD SEX REFERENCES INCLUDING PROSTITUTION AND DIVERSE SEXUAL PRACTISES - DRUG REFERENCES – STRONG ANTI-RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS AND OPINIONS - HUMAN TRAFFICKING – STRONG COMMENTS AND BEHAVIOUR THAT MAY OFFEND SOME PEOPLE BUT WERE CONSIDERED 'NORMAL' IN THE TIME PERIOD – MILD HORROR & SUPERNATURAL, PARANORMAL FEAR. |
Author’s notes on the episode:
[1]
This episode is completed but currently unpublished.
[2]
This episode is a special about a member of Temporal Detective Team 74.
[3]
The original Title for this episode was: ‘THE HISTORY OF MISTER JERICHO TIBBS.’
[4]
A ‘Jericho Tibbs’ original story.
[5]
Illustration [background] was copied by the
author from the original by ‘Jerry Jones'
who generously allows anyone to use his
artwork, provided they don't steal and repost as their own, etc.’
[6] There is NO Alexandra version available.
Episode details:
Concept
date: 18th March 2017
First
published: Unavailable
Status: COMPLETED BUT UNPUBLISHED.
Location: BOOK SERIES 0 – EPISODE 0.
Revisions: 3 [last revised August 2020]
Version:
In Review.
Published Episode No. 00
Previous
episode: None.
Next
episode: None.
Age
recommendation: 15+
Average
reading time: Approx. 60 Minutes.
Angel-in-charge: Margret
Team
Assigned: Team 13
Human
Time: 1901AD-1318AH
Mission: 0 - 997432 - 3 - 1901
Episode Preview:
The small boat dipped and rolled gently with the current, but Hamish McGregor was a skilled boatman and knew the waters of Heaven’s Edge Bay like he knew the curves of his young wife; Mary.
He glanced down at the silent, solitary passenger sitting wrapped in a long black coat and staring across the water. The small cabin with its open hatchway, afforded some protection from the sea. Hamish turned back and could see the mainland in the distance. The sounds of the sea were almost drowned by the noise of the engines, as they powered towards Stark Island.
“Another twenty minutes or so.” Hamish shouted down to his passenger. The young man nodded – but said nothing - he had not really spoken since the journey started from the small dock at Dingle. A real strange one this, Hamish mused and wiped salty spray from his face and pulled his baggy canvas cap down. He had spoken just a few sentences to McGregor since they left; polite conversation about Alistair, the shop keeper in Dingle, and if he had delivered all the goods that had been ordered. Then a brief little talk about the history of the old lighthouse; McGregor recalled that he had done all the talking, receiving just a few nods from the strange young man in reply. “Bloody miserable Sassenach.” McGregor muttered to himself and the journey continued in silence. He then smiled and lifted his free hand to gesture towards the approaching rock, which rose from the swirling waters like a small mountain.
“There
we are Mr. Tibbs; Heaven’s Edge Bay Lighthouse!” He shouted above the noise of
engines, wind and water. The young man lifted his face from the folds of that
big black coat and nodded; “Thank you Mr. McGregor, when does the light come
on; it’s starting to get dark. Will you be OK to return to Dingle at
nightfall?”
Mr. McGregor nodded and guided his boat with great skill against the small dock which jutted from the rock, at the foot of a well worn set of steps. “The light hasn’t been on since the place was made redundant by the Lighthouse service back in the eighties – all the plant work is closed down - gone now, but you still get electricity from the mainland by undersea cable, when it works!” He chuckled to himself and tied the little boat up to the dock.
He
helped Mr. Tibbs with his two cases and shoulder bag, placing them on the dock
and held out his hand; “If you need to be carried back to Dingle, just call old
Alistair at the store – there is a working phone in the lighthouse - and I’ll
arrange a time to collect you. Goodbye Mr. Tibbs.”
The young man pulled off a thick black glove and shook Hamish’s hand quite firmly and said softly; “Thank you Mr. McGregor.” He lifted up his cases and started to climb the damp grey steps with some care. Hamish watched him carefully, as he untied the “SEASPRAY” and skilfully manoeuvred her back out to sea. Why the fuck would a wealthy young man buy a redundant and isolated old lighthouse to live in and alone? Well, not quite alone, he looked back at the fading silhouette of the little island and smiled; sure Mr. Tibbs and Mr. Parker will get on just fine! Hamish shrugged his shoulders and started the half hour journey back home; to whisky, dinner and young Mary; that made him smile again.
Mr. Tibbs trudged across the broken ground and shingle towards the lighthouse which towered above him, He glanced about, there were three derelict cottages and a battered old shed made of wood and stone. The little enclose was surrounded by a large stone sea wall and he pulled open the rusted metal gate and made his way to the big black door of the lighthouse itself.
The place was in total darkness and Mr. Tibbs pulled a small flashlight from a pocket and shone it around. That’s when he noticed the small steps dropping away from the sea wall. He couldn’t recall seeing them when he visited the place with the quiet spoken, little man who was from the Solicitors in Aberdeen.
He
placed the other case down by the door and walked over to them, shining the
torch into the gloom and what he saw sent a shiver up his spine. It was a small
headstone, marked simply; ‘Mr. Parker, July 1901’.
He drew back from the lonely grave and wondered why anyone would wish to buried on this island? A former lighthouse keeper who died almost a century ago and didn’t want to leave? He turned back to the door and from another pocket pulled a heavy brass ring with two large keys and inserted one into the lock. He was surprised when it turned easily and he pushed the large door open with little force required.
He felt about the wall and found a heavy old light switch and pulled it the down. The single lamp flickered and burst in life and Mr. Tibbs looked about the small room, it had very little furniture, but surprisingly enough; a large fireplace with a stunning gold leafed mirror hanging above it. He stared at the mantelpiece and noticed that it carried a small sail boat in a yellowing bottle, two heavy brass candlesticks complete with large candles that could guest at a Papal funeral and what appeared to be a very old music box.
Mr. Tibbs rubbed his chin, a little puzzled since the mantelpiece was empty when he was shown around by Mr. Patrick Cordless, the selling solicitor’s agent, back in the summer. He dragged the cases in and dropped the shoulder bag upon the crude wooden table. He closed the big door and locked it.
He stood and carefully looked about; the wooden and metal spiral staircase ascended upwards to four other floors and then, the light platform with the lamp and mirrors at the very top of the building. That’s when the mirror caught his attention; it showed no reflection!
He could see neither the room, nor himself in the strange piece of glass and that made his throat and mouth a little dry. A bloody mirror that doesn’t reflect? He was a little surprised by that and jumped as the Grandfather clock opposite the mirror started to chime; it rang eight times; for eight o’clock. The clock looked very old and again, he could not recall it or the mirror when he previously viewed the lighthouse. He needed a drink.
From the shoulder bag, young Mr. Tibbs pulled a bottle of whisky and slowly unscrewed the cap; that’s when he noticed there were two whisky glasses on a little silver tray, sitting upon a small table by the edge of the fireplace; next to one, of a pair, of large armchairs that flanked it.
“Am I expecting a visitor?” He muttered and dropped into an armchair and poured a measure into the glass which didn’t need cleaning. He now knew that someone had been here; placing the objects upon the mantelpiece and setting out the glasses. He wondered who? And why?
Mr. Jericho Tibbs sipped his whisky slowly, then bent forward and lit the electric fire which sat in the grate. The yellow bars slowly started to turn red and a little warmth could be felt. Jericho slumped back into the chair which was surprisingly comfortable and closed his eyes. The long journey by train, taxi and boat from London to Heaven’s Edge Bay, North Scotland was now catching up with him.
The outlay of the lighthouse ran through his mind; the ground floor was the reception area with a store room – hopefully, now filled with provisions from Alistair’s store in Dingle – the nearest village to the place. The second floor contained a kitchen and pantry with another small store room, the third floor had two bedrooms, with a bathroom and toilet. The fourth floor, much smaller than the other floors, contained a single bare room with a rough wooden staircase up to the light platform. The light platform contained the lamp and mirrors for the actual light itself, with a machinery room and access to the balcony, which ran around the top of the lighthouse.
He would explore in the morning and set up his work area with his laptop; he would check to see if the crate he had sent from London had arrived and unpack it. He finished his welcome whisky and decided that call could wait for the new day. He now had all the time in the world; hours and hours of it. He sighed and settled back in the chair; the warmth of the small fire was having a very good effect on the tired young man.
Jericho must have dozed for about an hour, and then he woke with a jolt to find he was not alone in the lighthouse.
End of Preview.
“All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical figures, are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.”
CAUTION:
“SOME OF THESE EPISODES CONTAIN VERY STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, HORROR AND SEXUAL REFERENCES. Some are RECOMMENDED suitable for persons aged 15+ years only.”
THE AUTHOR.