Alcohol
– Smoking - Strong language – Violence [including BDSM, torture domestic
violence] – Strong sexual references [including serious sexual assault] –
Demonic horror references.
[1]
This episode contains very strong language and sexual references, including
sexual torture.
[2]
The original Title for this episode was: ‘THE GIRL ON THE MOOR.’
[3]
A ‘Jericho Tibbs’ original story.
[4] There is NO Alexandra adult extended version available.
Concept
date: 2nd February 2019.
First
published: 27th December 2019
Status: COMPLETED & PUBLISHED.
Location: BOOK SERIES 2 – EPISODE 12.
Revisions: 4 [last revised
August 2020]
Version:
Final.
Published
Episode No. 024
Previous
episode: “William Shakespeare’s lost
play: The Lady of Cappanni.”
Next
episode: “The redemption (almost) of
Private John Hook.”
Age
recommendation: 15+
Average
reading time: Approx. 75 Minutes.
Angel-in-charge: Margret
Team
Assigned: Team 74
Human
Time: 2011AD-1432AH
Mission: 4
- 749100 - 2 – 2011
Episode Preview:
The two dog walkers began to slow down, and both exchanged concerned and
slightly puzzled glances. Finally, the older, burly man snapped the lead back
upon his skinny black Labrador and told the younger man to do the same.
The younger man was fumbling in his heavy coat pockets for his phone and
cursing his dog to keep still. The older man slowly approached the body,
keeping a tight grip on his playful pet. He nervously wiped his face with his
gloved free hand and breathing heavily, a little from cold fear; he knelt by
the body and gently touched the young
woman's face. "Sweet Jesus Peter! She’s alive!" He shouted and
started to pull his coat off quite awkwardly - because the dog was held with one
hand - "Get a fucking ambulance!" He added, pushing his heavy coat
over the young woman's body.
The younger man nervously pressed 999 and waited, whilst his dog jumped about,
barking at the silent woman. Her head turned a little and the older man pressed
close to her face; "What happened sweetheart, how the hell did you get on
the Moor in just your nightie?" and almost jumped back when her eyes snapped open.
She slightly turned her head and croaked; "Charles de Mass!" Then the
piercing blue eyes closed again. The old man realised that the young woman was
truly quite stunning, even with very little make-up applied. He smiled broadly
and pulled the coat tightly around her and shouted at his young friend;
"Did you get an ambulance?"
The younger man nodded; "The operator said the police would come with the
ambulance." They both stood back from the still young woman and nervously
shared a cigarette, pulling the dogs to heel and staring down to Fullpeaks
Road, the only route for the ambulance to use, if it was coming onto this part
of Scarfell Moor.
The older man looked across the Moor and some distance away, he could make out
the ruins of Scarfell Hall, now cast with darkening shadows. He sucked deep on
the cigarette and gestured towards the ruins; "The lass only said a name:
Charles de Mass." The younger man nodded. He had heard. They both stood in silence for a few minutes
until the sound of approaching sirens caught their attention.
The younger man finished his cigarette and coughed; "The only Charles de
Mass I know is THE Charles de Mass." He pointed towards the ruins and
pulled his coat about, adding; "And that sick bastard has been dead for
two hundred years!"
"You best make your way down to old Patrick’s Gate and direct them up
here." The older man tossed aside the finished cigarette and gave his
quiet dog a few biscuits from his trouser pockets. The younger man nodded his
agreement and set off for the old set of gates that would allow the police and
ambulance onto this part of the Moor.
The older man looked down at the quiet young woman and wondered how the hell
she was going to explain; that she ended up on the Moor, wearing nothing
whatsoever; but a silk night dress that was almost transparent. That's when he
noticed there was no mud on her feet or legs. His own boots were caked with the
stuff; the recent heavy rains had turned the Moor into a mud-bath. The older
man then noticed that the girl was perfectly dry, despite the heavy rain
showers of just half hour ago.
He scratched his head; that looks impossible he reasoned. The girl should be
spattered with mud and soaked right through, unless she only just appeared
here. But that would appear to be also impossible, he and Peter had been on
this part of the Moor for almost twenty minutes, rain shower or not. They
should have seen her come onto the Moor. She was lying in open ground and very
visible in that white silk dress.
His sharp eyes also noticed the little discoloration about her nose and small
mouth - they could be minor burns he thought and looked about and could
only see his and Peter's boot tracks [and some dog prints!] but no marks that
resembled bare feet; clean bare feet. He actually looked around the sky and the
thought crossed his mind; "How the fuck did you get on the Moor, unseen by
us and without being absolutely drenched and covered in mud; the police will
want an answer to that." He groaned
aloud and shook his head.
"This will not make any rational sense." He muttered to himself and lit up another cigarette, glancing back at Scarfell Hall ruins, he sighed; yet another strange mystery would be chalked up to the bloody Hall and the whispered name: Charles de Mass. The notorious owner who started most of the dark stories and legends about the place way back in the 1790's. Every local knew the stories about that dark character and a historian from Rutland University had written a book about him; it sold well around here, but not really anywhere else!
He chuckled to himself - that could change with the girl, he mused, smoking quietly and patting his dog gently. He stared at the ruins; the hall had a personal connection to John Crabb; his Grandmother Grace held a séance in the library there, way back in 1969 - just a couple of years before a fatal fire destroyed the old house - and the things that occurred at that gathering made Grace swear never to organize another. She only spoke about it to John and his married sister Kath Warrington, as she lay dying in High Moor Hospital, some thirty years later.
John wished she hadn't; it still gave him the odd nightmare; even now, about what happened. "It was just one of those things that happen." He would mutter to himself to justify it all. He knew that her incredible gift had passed down to their mother and even Kath admitted she possessed it. He reasoned that young Grace [his Niece] would possess it, though she denied, quite strongly at times, that she did. John wondered what his old mother; Lilly, would make of all this; if she remembered who he was!
He sighed and watched the two paramedics' attending the girl, whilst the young
police officer wrote in his notebook and spoke on the noisy radio. Peter joined
him, trying to keep his excited young dog calm. "I told the copper what
she said to you, and he just laughed; he reckons that old Inspector Vine will be absolutely unimpressed with that!"
John just nodded and offered Peter another cigarette, which he quickly accepted
gratefully. "Well, that's what the poor girl said." He muttered and
they both stood back and smoked. Peter called his wife and was retelling what
had occurred when John's phone rang and vibrated; he looked at the phones face
and saw his sister’s name appear. He answered it slowly and was strangely, not
surprised by what she said.
End of Preview.
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER
“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.