Monday, 30 May 2022

"LUCY LONDON'S LOST SOUL," [Preview available]

Episode summary:

"On a damp March afternoon in 2011, two friends walking their dogs on Scarfell Moor came across the body of a young woman. She was wearing nothing but a silk night dress, embroidered with devils and angels. To the men's shock; she was still alive - just. Mr. Tibbs and his team are on the case because Miss Lucy London vanished some ninety years ago - her soul has been missing all that time - where has she been?"


Episode Warnings:

Alcohol – Smoking - Strong language – Violence [including BDSM, torture domestic violence] – Strong sexual references [including serious sexual assault] – Demonic horror references.

 

 Author’s notes about this episode:  

[1] This episode contains very strong language and sexual references, including sexual torture. The language and social conventions appearing in this episode reflect the social situation of the period: the 2000’s.

[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.

 

Episode details:

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.

 He could see Peter leading two ambulance men - complete with rescue stretcher - and a tall, young Police Officer who was pulling on his heavy blue overcoat, whilst talking into his personal radio.

"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.

"LUCY LONDON'S LOST SOUL" CONTINUES IN 'TEMPORAL DETECTIVES' BOOK SERIES 2 [EPISODE 12.]


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.


Copyright © 2011-2024 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.