The Green Man
by Mike Bennett
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Mike Bennett 2000 – 2011
All rights reserved by the author.
This story originally appeared as part of the free podcast, Hall of Mirrors: Tales of Horror and the Grotesque. The podcast is available via the author’s website: www.MikeBennettPodcast.com and www.Podiobooks.com. The podcast features this story and eleven others.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The author would like to thank Pauline McGrath, Jason Andrews for his tireless work on the web sites, Evo Terra at www.Podiobooks.com and all the Hall of Mirrors listeners around the world for their ears, support and enthusiasm over the years.
For Pauline.
~~~~
The Green Man
‘Oh look, Alec, up ahead,’ Libby Bingham pointed a chubby finger and smiled, ‘On the left there – a pub.’ She lifted the Yorkshire terrier that was sitting in her lap and aimed his face toward the pub. ‘Look Bobby, a pub! Does Bobby want a drinky-wink?’ Bobby yapped and pumped his legs. ‘So does Mummy’. Libby rubbed Bobby’s head. She turned to Alec. ‘Mummy’s very thirsty.’
‘Well, Mummy can have a sip of Daddy’s water,’ said Alec without enthusiasm. He waved at the small bottle of mineral water in the Toyota Landcruiser’s drinks holder.
‘No, Daddy,’ Libby persisted, ‘Mummy wants a proper drink. She’s been sat in this car for two hours now she wants a gin and tonic - and a piss.’
‘We’re nearly there, Lib. Just a little farther.’
‘For God’s sake, Alec, I’m spitting feathers here.’
‘So drink some water.’
‘I don’t – ’ Libby began, then she sighed. ‘Oh, forget it.’ She picked up the mineral water and took a sip. As they neared the pub, Alec slowed the car down; a huge camper van was pulling out from pub’s car park onto the road. He stopped the car and looked across at the pub. It was a pretty, traditional inn that looked like it might be a few hundred years old. Much as he could murder a drink, he had no intention in stopping for one. He looked back at the road ahead and the camper van that continued to toil its way out of the car park. ‘Jesus Christ – look at that thing! It’s like a bloody hotel on wheels. What’s the point in going camping in a hotel?’
Libby was more interested in the pub. ‘Oh look, Alec. Look at the pub sign. Can you see the green man?’ Alec looked to where she was pointing. ‘Can you see his face? It’s all leafy!’
Alec adjusted his glasses and squinted at the pub sign. A leafy face peered back at him from a lushly green thicket; above it, in red, the pub’s name, The Green Man. ‘Oh yes,’ he murmured. ‘Very nice.’
‘Oh do let’s stop, darling,’ said Libby. ‘We could both do with a break and Bobby wants a drink of water.’ She rubbed the dog’s head as if to prompt a response. ‘Don’t you Bobby?’ Bobby yapped in the affirmative and fidgeted excitedly in her lap. ‘You see? He wants a little drinky.’
Alec’s grip on the gear stick tightened and his left eye gave an outwardly imperceptible twitch. ‘Well he can have a drinky when we arrive. I keep telling you Lib, we’re almost there. It’s only about five minutes now.’
‘You said that half-an-hour ago.’
‘Yeah, well, I hadn’t counted on all the traffic around Slough, had I? Bloody bank holiday drivers; they’re all the more reason for us not to stop here and keep going; with all these people out and about, it’s only be a matter of time before someone nicks our spot.’
‘Nicks your spot you mean. I’ve never even seen it. And how do you know about it anyway, this so-called “shady glade” of yours? Been bringing your fancy-woman out here, have you?’
Alec sighed. ‘I’m a middle-aged man with a middle-aged spread and a decidedly fair-to-middling salary. I don’t have a fancy-woman, Libby. Men like me have wives; wives like you.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean? Wives like me?’
‘Oh God. What I mean is ... ’ Alec didn’t need a full-blown row. He attempted to backtrack by making his jibe sound brighter, as if it were somehow a compliment. ‘... Wives ... like you. You know – nice, comfortable, homely ... ’
‘God Alec, I’m not an armchair, I’m a woman – in case you don’t remember!’
‘That’s not what I meant, love. I meant we – both of us – we’re, well, we’re past our prime. I’m not what I was and neither are you, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other, does it?’
‘Are you saying I’m fat?’
‘Fat? No! When did I say you were fat?’
‘You said I was past my prime.’
‘I said we were past our prime, both of us! I didn’t say you were fat.’
‘You didn’t have to, but it was what you meant.’
‘Oh, Jesus.’ Alec took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m simply saying you’re – we’re – older, that’s all.’
‘Fatter.’
‘All right, yes, a bit – but we’re both fatter. But that’s not the same as being fat, is it?
‘Oh shut up Alec, you said I was fat. I suppose your fancy-woman is as thin as a bloody rake.’
‘I told you: I don’t have a bloody fancy-woman! I came here last month on a fishing trip with Mike and Ray from the office.’
‘Oh? I thought you said this lovely spot was on Crown property. How come you were fishing on Crown property? That’s poaching, isn’t it?’
‘Not if you have a permit it isn’t, and Mike has a permit. He’s been coming here for years. He knows the gamekeeper.’ Ahead of them, the camper van was now fully out onto the road and began to pull away. ‘Finally.’ Alec put his foot on the accelerator and they moved forwards.
Libby took a last, longing look at the Green Man. Then she said, ‘He’s the guardian of the woods, isn’t he? Or is he some kind of fertility symbol?’
‘Who, Mike?’
‘No, the Green Man.’
‘How should I know?’
‘Well you go out fishing and all that. I’d have thought you’d know all about folk myths and legends of the woods.’
‘I go fishing occasionally. That doesn’t make me Robin Hood, does it?’
Libby shook her head. ‘Oh you’re so – ’ She broke off and turned away.
‘So what?’
‘So ... bloody unadventurous.’
Alec laughed. ‘Unadventurous? Why, because I don’t give a toss about folk myths?’
‘No, because you don’t give a toss about anything – other than fishing. I don’t know why I said you had a fancy-woman; you’d need a bit of romance in your soul to have an affair, a bit of imagination. You probably wouldn’t even notice a woman – fancy or otherwise – unless she looked like a fish.’
‘Well, I married you, didn’t I? Does that mean you look like a fish?’
‘If I did, you might fuck me now and again. Maybe I should wear a trout mask in bed sometime. Maybe that would get you going, eh?’ Bobby yapped. Libby cupped his face in her hands. ‘Do you think so, baby? Mmmm? Would a trouty mask make Daddy’s willy big again?’ Bobby yapped.
Alec’s eye twitched. He gripped the wheel and glared at the road ahead. Easy now, he thought, you’ll soon be there. Just a little farther.
~~~~
Five minutes later, Alec slowed down and turned the car off the road onto a muddy path that was dense on either side with trees and bushes.
‘Is this it?’ said Libby. ‘It doesn’t look very promising.’
‘No,’ Alec said patiently, ‘this leads to it.’
Libby looked out of the windows with a deepening sense of doubt as the car rolled and dipped along the rutted path. ‘It’s very gloomy.’
‘It’s a wood, Libby, what were you expecting? The Champs Elysees?’
‘I just thought it would be a bit prettier, that’s all. You said it was going to be pretty.’
‘It is going to be pretty, we’re not there yet.’ Then Alec brightened, ‘Ah, there – look!’ He pointed up ahead to where the trees opened out onto an area of glowing sunlight.
‘Oh yes!’ Libby lifted Bobby so he could see too. ‘Look Bobby, we’re almost there, sweetums.’ Bobby wriggled in her grip, his legs pumping with excitement. Libby laughed and hugged him to her cheek. ‘Oh look, Alec, he’s all excited!’
‘Yes, aren’t we all, dear?’ said Alec without enthusiasm. He drove slowly into the sunlit grassy clearing in the trees. ‘Well, here we are.’ He stopped the car and turned off the engine.
‘At last!’ Libby threw open the passenger door. Bobby immediately leapt off her lap and started sniffing around. A moment later he cocked his leg. ‘Clever boy,’ said Libby, ‘Mummy needs to find a place to pee too.’ She took her handbag from the car. ‘Where’s a good spot, Alec?’
‘Try over there, by the stream.’ Alec pointed to a break in the trees to their left. Libby grimaced. ‘Ooh, you don’t suppose there’ll be anyone there, do you? Perhaps one of your fishing chums?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Alec, opening his door, ‘the fishing here is terrible.’
Libby frowned. ‘So why do you come here?’
Getting out on the driver’s side, Alec winced at his mistake. Then, recovering, he turned to her with a smile. ‘I don’t. We came here just the once, you know? Just to give it a try.’
‘Oh,’ Libby looked around, unimpressed, ‘And you thought it might be a nice spot for a picnic, did you?’
‘Exactly.’
She nodded doubtfully. ‘I see.’ She turned and walked off towards the stream with Bobby snuffling in her wake.
‘What? You don’t like it?’ called Alec.
‘It’s all right,’ Libby said without turning, ‘I’ve seen nicer.’
Alec clenched his teeth, biting back his response. He pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and watched, with some satisfaction, her discomfort as she negotiated her way through the long wet grass. When she finally disappeared behind some bushes with Bobby snuffling in her wake, Alec went to the back of the car and opened the rear door.
Inside were a couple of supermarket carrier bags, bulging with food and bottles of drink. Next to them was a large red and blue blanket which he had spread out to hide the other contents of the car boot - a little surprise he was saving for later. He picked up the shopping bags and walked back to the centre of the clearing just as Libby was returning from the stream. He smiled at her. ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’
‘What, peeing in the woods? No, it’s barbaric. Fortunately, I had some tissues with me.’
‘I meant the stream.’
‘Oh, yes. Breathtaking.’ She saw the bottle of chardonnay in one of the bags. ‘Thank God – wine. Where’s the corkscrew?’
‘The corkscrew? It’s, er, in the back of the car ... Under the blanket.’
‘Why did you put it under the blanket? Afraid someone might steal it?’ She walked to the back of the car and threw the blanket aside. There was no sign of a corkscrew, but there were plenty of other tools, including an axe, a pickaxe, a fork, and a spade. ‘Where? I can’t see it – and why have you brought a load of gardening tools, for God’s sake?’ She pulled the spade out and threw it out behind her in the hope that it might be concealing the corkscrew. It wasn’t. ‘Where – ’ she turned to see Alec standing right beside her. ‘Jesus! You gave me a fright! Don’t creep up on me like that!’
Alec grinned. ‘Sorry, Lib.’ He bent to pick up the spade.
‘Where’s the bloody corkscrew then? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten it, because if you have, you can forget this bloody picnic idea of yours as well!’
‘I’m sure it’s in there somewhere, dear. ’
‘Yes, under all these bloody tools of yours. Why have you got them in the car? Don’t tell me you’re planning on stealing a bush or something.’ She tried to push the tools aside but they were too awkward. There was no sign of the corkscrew. ‘Oh, shit. You have, you know? You’ve forgotten the sodding corkscrew. Well there’s no way I’m going to sit around here without – ’
Her sentence ended abruptly as Alec brought the flat of the spade down on her head with a dull clang. ‘Oh! Sorry, dear,’ he said as she crumpled to the ground, ‘How careless of me! First I forget the corkscrew, and then I go and bash your fucking head in! Whatever next, eh?’ He chuckled. ‘I’ll tell you what’s next. My fancy-woman, that’s what – Charlotte! Charlotte, who actually – ’ He broke off, interrupted by sudden yapping.
Bobby ran up to Libby’s body, sniffing at the blood that trickled from the gash on her scalp. He licked at it then started whimpering when she didn’t respond. Alec sneered at the little dog. ‘Oh yeah, and as for you, you hairy rat,’ he reached into the car and pulled out the garden fork. ‘How about we ought to send you off to join Mummy in the afterlife, eh? I think that’d be best for all of us.’ He raised the fork with both hands and plunged it down towards Bobby’s back. Perhaps sensing his intention, Bobby bolted before the prongs hit. He dashed aside and started barking at Alec from a safe distance.
‘Shit!’ Alec stumbled from the force of striking nothing but earth. He aimed a wild kick at the barking dog but missed as it darted aside. ‘Shut up, you little bastard!’ Alec tore the fork from the ground and raised the prongs for the kill. He lunged, but again struck dirt as Bobby evaded him. ‘Bastard!’ Alec spun around, bringing the fork to bear on the dog again, but now with a smile on his face. ‘Good boy,’ he hissed through gritted teeth, ‘There’s a good boy, Bobby. Come to Daddy.’
Bobby considered for a moment then ran off into the bushes.
‘No!’ Alec hurled the fork after him. It crashed through the leaves and juddered to a halt. He pulled it out again and saw that the prongs were bloodless. ‘Shit!’ He slashed and stabbed at the bushes, but the desired death-yelp of impaled Yorkshire terrier eluded him. Finally, he threw the fork aside and went back to the car.
This was a setback, but how serious a setback was it? The mutt was so fucking pampered it would almost certainly die without a can opener and a supply of gourmet dog food. He took the pick axe from the back of the car and went over to the spot he’d designated for Libby’s grave, glancing around for Bobby as he went. What if the mutt came back after he’d gone and started trying to dig Libby up? Even its worrying at the grave site could be enough to arouse the suspicion of ...
The thought trailed off as he realised the fear was unfounded. ‘Don’t be stupid, Alec,’ he said aloud. ‘No bugger comes out here.’ It was true; the story he’d told her about fishing here was a lie; there’d be neither fishermen nor anyone else. He looked at his watch: it was just past three o’clock. Time was getting on and he had a grave to dig. He swung the pick axe down so it stuck in the earth and went back to where Libby lay.
He lifted her by the ankles and began dragging her body to the grave site. It was slow- going; she was heavy. She’d never been a slip of a girl but in the past few years she had really piled on the pounds. Alec noticed now that her dress was getting all dragged up around her waist, exposing her knickers, and for a moment, he felt a dreadful pang of remorse.
He looked away and chided himself. For fuck’s sake, get a grip on yourself! She was a bitch, and now she’s a dead bitch. You’re free at last, so –
He froze.
For a moment, he just stood there holding Libby’s ankles and staring straight ahead. A face was watching him from the bushes on the far side of the clearing. It half-buried in deep shadow and foliage, but still – it was there. A face.
Or was it? Alec’s glasses had slid down his nose on the sweat of his exertions. He dropped Libby’s left leg and pushed the glasses back into position. He blinked and focussed again on the spot where … where there was nothing; just bushes, ferns, shadows, and nothing more. He gave a little snort and wiped his brow. ‘Jesus, now I’m fucking seeing things.’
He bent down and picked up Libby’s left ankle then he chuckled as a rational explanation occurred to him. ‘It’s that stupid pub sign earlier on, that’s what it is, the bloody Green Man.’ He laughed. ‘Guardian of the woods, my arse.’ He shook his head and resumed dragging his wife across the clearing to her final resting place.
~~~~
One thing Alec had underestimated was the pervasiveness and persistence of tree roots. They were everywhere – mostly thin and flexible but some as thick as bloody branches - and many would have been impossible to chop through if he hadn’t had the axe. However, chop through them he had, and now he stood in a grave approximately three feet deep, which was deep enough, he decided; he was exhausted. His hands were blistered and his back was killing him.
He threw down the spade and looked at his watch. It was nearly five-thirty. He looked up at the jagged hole of sky beyond the branches overhead. The light was beginning to fade, and heavy black clouds were moving in and slowly blotting together. He had better get a move on.
The thought resurfaced in his mind that Bobby might return and start trying to burrow down to her. It was a pity he couldn’t just kill the mutt and throw him in with her, if only to give himself peace of mind. But still, even if Bobby did burrow down to her, all he’d probably do is start eating her. He grinned to think of Mummy’s little baby gnawing Mummy’s face down to the bone.
As if responding to this mental summons, a quick peal of yaps drifted out from the bushes nearby. Alec froze and squinted into the gloom. ‘Bobby?’
Another yap, then another.
‘Bobby? Come to Daddy!’
Alec bent down and picked up the garden fork. He looked again to the area from which he had heard the dog bark. His view was hampered by ferns and bushes that overhung the grave on one side and he and he climbed out to see better. Libby’s body lay face-down on the ground about three feet from the hole. Alec crouched down and peered over her into the shadows.
‘Bobby!’ He reached slowly for his glasses where they lay on the mud at the edge of the grave. ‘Good boy, come to Da – ’
The words dried up in his throat as he found himself staring into another pair of eyes. The face in the bushes! It was back at the edge of the clearing; a sinister, evil face, watching him calmly as if he might have been a rarity in a zoo.
‘Who are you?’ Alec shouted. He grabbed his glasses and put them on, looking back to the face but once again, it had disappeared. ‘I know you’re there!’ he shouted, brandishing the fork before him. ‘Come on – show yourself!’
There was no reply. Somewhere far away, a wood pigeon cooed, and there was a faint stirring of the leaves and branches overhead as the coming rain sent lazy gusts of wind through the trees. Then suddenly, Bobby barked again, now from somewhere behind him. Alec spun around at the sound. ‘Bobby!’ he shouted – no cajoling in his voice now, only desperation and anger. ‘You bastard! Where are you?’ He spun back again, convinced that the face in the bushes would have returned to watch him as he started losing control, but there was nothing.
He must have been seeing things – it was panic, paranoia. Then a thought occurred to him: the dog! Every time he thought of the dog, he saw the face. Yes – his mind was playing tricks on him. He was thinking of the dog was a witness, and so his mind – his guilt – created a witness. But not a dog’s face – that would have been stupid. No, his guilt, or his fear, was creating a man’s face. That was normal, wasn’t it? Rorschach patterns: if you see a penis wielding a machine gun, you’re mad; but if you see a human face, you’re normal – wasn’t that how it worked? Yeah, well, he’d seen a face, so he was normal. Thank fuck for that!
He laughed aloud; here he was, standing beside the murdered body of his wife, covered in grave dirt, shaking a garden fork at imaginary faces in the bushes and telling himself that he was normal – oh yeah, he was normal all right. Nothing crazy about this picture.
‘Get a grip on yourself, Alec. And better still, get a grip on that bloody dog - preferably by the throat.’ He raised his hand to half-cup a yell. ‘Here Bobby! Walkies!’ The word always had a highly invigorating effect on the mutt. He sang it again with a touch of venom, ‘Walkies! You little shit.’ He waited for the terrier to come bursting excitedly from the undergrowth, as if the power of the word might vanquish all memories of his mistress’ recent bludgeoning and restore business to usual. But Bobby, it seemed, was smarter than that.
Alec sighed and walked over to Libby’s body. ‘Sorry Lib, but it looks like I’ll be burying without your precious hound. I have to get a move on. Then I can get home, get showered, and meet Charlotte – my fancy woman – for a night of wild, demented sex in our marital bed. How do you like that, eh?’ Libby was silent. ‘That’s what I thought you’d say, you old cow.’ He lifted her ankles. ‘Here we go, then.’
He dragged her until she lay parallel with the grave. Then, pushing his foot against her shoulder, he rolled her into the grave. She landed on her back, and the air was expelled from her lungs in what sounded like something between a cough and a groan. It was so lifelike that Alec peered into the grave, half expecting her to be looking up at him.
She was.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Alec.
‘Alec?’ Libby croaked, blinking up at her husband’s silhouette standing stark against the rain-heavy sky.
Alec held up a finger. ‘Shush, Libby, it’s all right. You’re dead, dear.’ He turned and walked out of her field of vision. ‘Just you wait there.’
‘Alec!’ Libby screamed, realising where she was. ‘Oh my God – you hit me! You –’, she screamed again and began to struggle to sit up, ‘You tried to murder me!’
‘Not trying, Libby,’ said Alec, reappearing with the axe in his hands. ‘I’m murdering quite successfully, thanks. Now just you hold still and it will all be over.’
At that moment, Bobby, drawn by the sound of Libby’s voice, came bounding into the clearing, yapping furiously. Alec turned, his axe poised to swing.
‘Oh, look who’s here – Rin Tin Tin!’ A twigged snapped from behind the bushes on the other side of the grave and Alec turned back. His manic expression immediately changed to one of horrified recognition. ‘No!’
From where she lay, Libby watched as the bushes parted above her. Slowly, silhouetted against the sky, a long thin arm began to emerge and reach for Alec. Brambles sprang loose, clinging to the arm as it pushed its way out into the open.
‘No!’ Alec cried. ‘Green Man! You can’t be ... !’ She watched her husband desperately raise the axe as thunder crashed overhead and a flash of lightening split the sky.
And then Alec was gone.
Libby felt the world swimming out of focus as large heavy drops of rain began to fall onto her face. The black arm withdrew silently into the bushes. She watched numbly as her own hand reached up to where the arm had disappeared, her fingers outstretched, beseeching her rescuer to pull her out of the grave. But no-one came, and now her hand was falling, slow and disembodied, like it wasn’t hers at all, down with the rest of her into darkness.
~~~~
Light and darkness, flashing blue and white. Voices, incoherent and garbled. Libby blinked and tried to move, but she couldn’t. She was paralysed. A weight on her chest. Panic seized her and her whole body convulsed against its restraints - but that was the problem, she realised - she was restrained on a stretcher. Night had fallen and the lights of an ambulance were pulsing, sweeping over the trees around her, blue and white. She tried to call out, and then she became aware of the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Then Bobby was there, licking her face.
‘I thought I told you to tie that bloody dog up, Brian!’ A paramedic scooped Bobby up and handed him to a colleague.
‘With what?’ said Brian, ‘This is an ambulance, not a dog-catcher’s van! I tried to tie him with a length of bandage but he must have slipped it.’
‘Well, give him a shot of something and knock him out. We can’t have him jumping all over her in the ambulance.’ The paramedic hunkered down beside her. ‘You’re all right madam, everything is okay. We’ll soon get you off to hospital.’
Libby spoke through the oxygen mask but her voice was unclear. The paramedic lifted it and she repeated ‘Alec – where’s Alec? He tried to kill me!’
‘I can’t say quite what’s happened, madam, it’s all a bit mysterious. We responded to a call saying there was a woman with a head injury who needed an ambulance. When we got here ... ’ He glanced anxiously at a something behind her. ‘Well, the police are on their way.’
‘A call? Who called? Alec?’
‘We don’t know who the caller was, madam. They used what we believe is your phone and left the call open so were able to trace the signal.’
‘S-so where is Alec? H-he tried to murder me!’ She gripped the paramedic’s arm. ‘He hit me on the head with a spade. He was going to bury me!’
‘Yes, we found you in the, er – in the hole, but you’re going to be all right. You’ve got a spot of concussion and you’ll need a few stitches.’
‘My husband tried to kill me, but the Green Man – he stopped him somehow! Alec – Alec disappeared when the lightning flashed.’
The paramedic exchanged a look with his colleague then said, ‘There is a man here madam, but I’m afraid he’s dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes. He’s been shot.’
‘Shot?’
‘Yes madam, shotgun most likely. At very close range.’
Libby looked at the paramedic as if she doubted what he was saying. ‘B-but the Green Man doesn’t have a shotgun.’
Now it was the turn of the paramedic to look doubtful. ‘I don’t know about any Green Man, madam. This’d be poachers, most likely. You get them up here from time to time. They must have seen what your husband was doing and … well, intervened.’
‘But I saw him! The Green Man. He saved me.’
The paramedic smiled. ‘Well if it helps you to sleep better, madam – that’s fine by me. Now, I’m going to put this mask back on you and we’re going to get you into the ambulance and off to hospital.’ He replaced the mask and gently increased the flow of oxygen. Libby smiled at the way Bobby continued to wriggle in the other paramedic’s arms. Then, she lowered her head to the pillow and watched as the dark branches above closed over her, entwining with the night clouds to form the lines of a face, not unlike the one she had seen on the pub sign, so long ago.
The face of the Green Man.
~~~~
All the Hall of Mirrors stories are available as free audio podcasts via the author’s site: www.MikeBennettPodcast.com and www.Podiobooks.com
Also available as an e-book from the same author
Hall of Mirrors Volume One
Hair and Skin: Millionaire, Charles Mason, has a grotesque idea for a hair transplant that stops one step short of horrific. Fortunately, his personal surgeon is sick enough to take the extra steps necessary to make Charles’s dream come true.
The Grave: Jack starts a series of increasingly unpleasant events when he makes a pass at suspected “wrong boy”, Dave.
The Haslet Technique: Lottery winner, Jim Haslet finds himself caught up in a bizarre nightmare when he and his wife are kidnapped by people even weirder than Jim is.
~~~~
Night Crossing
Meet Underwood and Flinch as they sail across the Mediterranean on a fog-shrouded night. Are they being followed? And if so, who should be the more fearful – the hunter or the hunted? This is the short vampire story that whets the reader’s appetite for the novel, Underwood and Flinch.
~~~~
From the same author as free audio podcasts
Underwood and Flinch
All David Flinch ever wanted was a normal life.
But when you’re a member of the Flinch family, normal has never been easy. For hundreds of years, the eldest male Flinch has been servant and guardian to the Lord Underwood. While the Flinches have changed through the generations, Underwood has been eternal – for Underwood is a vampire. David had hoped to be spared the horror of serving his family’s lord and master, but when he is summoned to the Flinch home in Spain by his dying older brother, he knows his luck has run out. Underwood must be resurrected from the grave in a ritual of human sacrifice, and David must be the man to do it. Because if he doesn’t, an even greater evil than Underwood will rise: the evil that is David’s sister.
Underwood and Flinch is an epic horror-thriller that spans the centuries. From the teeming slums of 17th Century London to an ex-pat community in modern-day Spain, this is the new novel from Mike Bennett, author of One Among the Sleepless and Hall of Mirrors.
“One of the best podcast novels, ever.” Walt Kolenda, Examiner.com
~~~~
One Among the Sleepless
Who is “The One”?
Is it Peter Reynolds, mild-mannered office clerk pouring petrol through his neighbour’s letterbox in the middle of the night?
Is it Wayne Dolan, a man who discovers strange, unsociable uses for his own urine – and an even stranger desire for the lady upstairs with the whip?
Or is it Dusty, a mysterious vagrant in sunglasses who claims to have a past in ZZ Top?
Mick Nixon wants to find out, because people are disappearing. And if he and Sally ever want to share more than just sandwiches, he’d better hurry up, or they could be next.
One Among the Sleepless is a novel set in a neighbourhood just like yours: noisy, angry, demented. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll throw it through your neighbour’s window tied to a house brick!
~~~~