The City Of The Dead

The City Of The Dead

Berwick-on-Tweed

17th Century

Prologue

Monday 20th November

He knew he was dying. He felt it coming over him, slowly creeping its shadowy tendrils into the darkest corners of his mind, entwining them around his thoughts. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t death, just the tired, helpless state he had become accustomed to.

"Just a few more minutes" he muttered to himself, stumbling carefully over the cobbled road, and through the cemetery gates. Ivy curled up the bars and up the walls of the church, covering it like a leafy carpet. It reminded him of the tendrils coiling themselves in his head. The church had several steeples and hundreds of large stained glass windows. It seemed as if no one had been there for years.

He carried on until he was in the graveyard. The gravestones grew out of the ground everywhere, in every direction, swallowing earth, the surrounding trees retreating in fear. He knew he was too late to stop them, but he kept on getting deeper into the city of the dead. Then through the trees, a group of humans dug into the terrain, pulling out a body. It was obvious to him what would happen next, they would rip the limbs off, one by one and burn the corpse until there was no trace except the grave, a record of a lifeline and the family’s sentimentality. There was nothing he could do but slip away before they saw him.

That’s when he saw her. A black silhouette of a girl emerged from the trees. She was standing among the undergrowth, placing a flower she picked across a grave. As soon as their eyes locked, she stood up quickly and faced him, to see the eyes of a girl, about his age. She looked astonished at first, but then seemed to relax as a wave of relief took over her. She stood still and looked straight at him; her eyes were glinting, reflecting the silvery moonlight.  She almost didn’t look...human. Her dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, emerald green eyes reflecting off the moonlight, slicing into him like a knife. She seemed ethereal.

Then the sound of a distant howl broke their gaze and he turned to look in the direction. He noticed that the girl did too, so he turned back in a hope to get a last glance of her beautiful face before he fled, but she was gone.

Voices of young men filled the air, carrying through the trees, making him remember his objective: to leave and never return.

                                      Berwick-on-Tweed

                                           Present Day

Monday 20th November

Chapter one

It was midnight but Autumn couldn’t sleep. She knew that the silence was keeping her awake. She could easily fall asleep to the sound of the city, the sound of cars and those last awake but the quietness of the country deafened her. Sounds of piercing animal howls suddenly filled the deafening silence. Autumn sat up straight and peered through the curtains, over the windowsill. Nothing. Nothing but the trees and their shadows, eerily swaying across the ground.

It was freezing, even though it wasn’t quite winter. The air from the window swirled around the room, crawling down the curve of her back, its icy fingers briefly touching her spine. A shiver forced itself out of her skin, causing goosebumps to materialize all over her arms.

She looked up at the sky; its beautiful deep navy colour complemented the moon’s pearl glow. Dark clouds passed, the edges lined with silver.

Autumn longed to go out into the night, the temptation overwhelming, something pulling her; she ran down the stairs, her nightdress billowing as she pulled on her pumps and out of the front door, shutting it quietly behind her. The air was crisp and bitter. Directly ahead of her was the entrance of a forest that seemed to coax Autumn in to its dark paths.

Reaching the opening she could see from the light of the moon the paths thinning, not leading anywhere. She trod on the soft soil, covered in yellowing pine needles, moisture seeping its way through her ballet pumps. Fallen leaves lay all over the sodden ground, as if it was preparing for a cold winter. Patterns of light shifted across the woods when clouds floated past the moonlight, causing Autumn to reconsider her midnight mission. She turned to touch the moss that covered the bark of one of the huge pine trees, which seemed to touch the sky. The smell of rotting wood filled her nose as she carried on into the green city. Branches creaked and broke under her feet, and she stumbled over large roots. Autumn realised that the trees now seemed to be getting thicker, denser as twigs scratched at her face and snagged at her nightdress. The trees groaned and whistled in the wind, like they were carrying a heavy weight.

A new smell of fresh water lingered in the autumn air as if it were spring again, and there was a faint sound of running water. Autumn ran towards the faint trickle of water, ducking under pointed branches and jumping over stumpy obstacles that threatened to trip her every step. The bubbling sound of a creek filled her ears as the stillness of the wood waited for her return. Pointing her foot and dipping her toes in the freezing pool made her shiver in delight. She put her whole left foot in with her pumps on, enjoying the feel of the cold soaking in slowly.  

The trees seem to thin out again, and her eyes adjusted to the light. She could see a road through the rest of the spaced out trees. As she moved closer to it she knew she’d never been there before, it was unrecognisable. The concrete felt hard compared to the soiled forest that seemed to make every soft pad from Autumn’s shoes, bounce. As she stepped of the pedestrian path and onto the tarmacked road she saw that she made little footprints from the water still seeping though the material of her pumps.

A church steeple peered over the trees a hundred yards from where she was standing. Her legs carried her and without even having to think about it, she was travelling faster and faster through the night. Autumn slowed as she stopped in front of a pair of wrought iron gates, covered in ivy vines. She looked up in a hope to see a way in, but there didn’t seem to be another entrance so she started to climb. She put her foot in the gate’s twirled metal patterns until she reached the top and lifted one leg over. She sat there for a moment and looked up, seeing that the church didn’t just have one steeple, it had several and its windows were stained with pictures of kings bearing gifts for Jesus, colourful even in the dark. She lifted her other leg over and jumped, landing on both feet, like a cat.

The graveyard was still and silent. She could almost hear whispered prayers and church bells, but Autumn knew it was the silence playing tricks again.

Gravestones were everywhere, seeming to lean into each other for comfort. It looked untidy and jagged like teeth and they covered nearly every piece of grass in sight, even trees seemed to move backwards to the edges of the cemetery. Stone angels looked at her as she passed and statues of faceless praying children told her which section of the cemetery she was in. One grave caught her eye. It was old and cracked and had ‘Summer Hale, aged 16’ written across it, almost illegible from age. She seemed to remember the name from somewhere, but it was impossible to have known her as the date said 1781. Autumn hadn’t ever known anyone else with a seasonal name like hers. She moved a few dead leaves off the grave, feeling the chalky stone. It seemed so grey and dull. A patch of purple flowers grew in the trees nearby. She picked one and knelt down to place it across Summer’s grave.

The sound of feet made Autumn jump. That’s when she saw him. A black silhouette was running towards her through the trees. He stopped and stood among the undergrowth. As soon as their eyes locked, she stood up quickly and faced him to see the eyes of a boy, about her age. He looked astonished at first, but then seemed to relax as a wave of relief took over him. Autumn stood still and looked straight at him; his eyes were glinting, reflecting the silvery moonlight. He almost didn’t look…human. His perfect face, the chiselled cheekbones and full lips, the piercing, emerald green eyes, which reflected off the moonlight, slicing into her like a knife. He seemed ethereal.

Then the sound of a distant howl broke their gaze and Autumn turned to look. She noticed that the boy did too, so impulsively she turned and ran to her right, slipping back into the forest.