Inside Evil

*Inside Evil and its sequels are available on Amazon, Kobo, B&N, Smashwords and iBooks.*

Chapter 1

Roberta stared vacantly out of the classroom window. The students had long left, leaving her alone with her thoughts as the sun dropped on the horizon. Fading light cast shadows across the papers on the desk and Roberta glanced to where she’d marked the essays with green pen. She hated marking in red; it only went to dishearten pupils more. Writing in green allowed her to convey everything that she wanted to, without having to splash scarlet ink across her youngsters’ work. It wasn’t this that played on Roberta’s mind though; it was the fading light and the onset of another dark, cold and eerie November night.

Ridgewood was a small, sleepy and somewhat forgotten town. As the rolling hills of the north fell away, giving rise to the increasingly haunting and craggy landscape of the fast approaching Scottish border, the town was all but blotted out, a shroud of wind, rain and cloud covering it like a heavy blanket. Lying deep in a valley, the surrounding countryside was a maze of dry stone walls, the few scattered sheep chewing in vain at the sparse and somewhat inedible grasses. Small copses dotted the horizon, and the very occasional dwelling bore its walls up against the unceasing battle with the elements. Here, sitting quietly in the throng of Mother Nature’s forces, Ridgewood remained relatively protected.

Or so it seemed, but Roberta often felt that the bubble around the town seemed more likely to keep something in, than to protect her from the world outside. Once inside the confines of the town, the outside world seemed to be forgotten, fading like a foggy memory that couldn’t be reached. Cold November nights drew a cloud of darkness over Ridgewood and it was as if, to the rest of the world, the town ceased to exist, inhabitants and all. Driving raindrops scattered as they hit the towering pines of the surrounding forests whilst the wind rattled through the branches as if an ancient being was howling out for all to hear. The bitter cold crept over the surrounding hills and swept, keeping close to the ground, towards the sleepy town houses. As the odd sheep or two took shelter in a craggy nook, or huddled together, wet and miserable, lights flickered on and the town was soon lit up like a beacon amongst the trees; a glowing ember in a vast expanse of emptiness.

Roberta looked at the fading sun again as it caught on a line of trees and glanced a sliver of golden light into the boarding school classroom. She squinted as she tried

to make out the horizon caught in the fiery glow. Unease always set in about this time, late in the afternoon when she knew that there was still the scurry home amidst frosty tendrils. Looking back to the stack of work in front of her, Roberta buried her thoughts and took up her green scrawling with an increased pace.

*****

Ridgewood had retained much of its medieval architecture and character, the streets threading their way over cobbles and down dark alleys. Though the thoroughfare had gradually become more modern and commercial over the past few decades, there was still an air of peace and tranquillity, a slowness and quietness that the residents always indulged in. Many of the shop fronts still had their windows squeezed between ancient beams, various plaques of history dotted here and there on the side of once important buildings. The few 20th century buildings that had crept their way in looked out of place and squashed, as if history was trying to squeeze them out. The paper was filled with the local scandal; Mrs Jenkins absentmindedly forgetting to pay her corner store bill of £5.77 or Mr Bains being found drunk on a bench. Likewise, the emergency services were not too much bothered, and the height of excitement for the firemen was Penelope Harris’s fat ginger tom getting stuck in its cat flap, again. All the police had to be concerned about was making sure the local kids and boarding school pupils weren’t wandering the street all hours of the night. The closest town, Mornington, was 11 miles away and the only connecting road was hardly used. Lorries trundled back and forth and people made the occasional trip out to stock up on supplies but, strangely, most of the residents seemed to be completely content living their lives in this little unknown hamlet, feeling no need to move or even visit any other area.