I shared the first part of a story I was working on for the next get together for the Writers in Stone group. Since we’re meeting not long before Halloween, so it was suggested we write something creepy and or spooky, This isn’t a genre I read, and I’ve not written very much of it either. This was quite a challenge, but I was pleased to be doing something which would make me think, and test me a little. The story begins with someone walking home from a friend’s late at night. a walk she’s done dozens of times previously., It’s set in Manchester in the 1970’s, when the north of England, particularly Yorkshire was much in the news.
Here is a link to the first part (although I have edited and changed some of the minor details, trying to improve it)
https://loiselsden.com/2026/10/22/something-strange-and-spooky/
Here is part two:
I was spooked thinking I saw someone behind me on the corner of Beaumont Road. Of course I didn’t, there was no-one there. It was ridiculous but I was spooked by the imagined glimpse of a shadowy figure.
The quiet was rent by a piercing scream and I nearly jumped out of my skin – there was a commotion ahead of me and a tumble of people spilled into the road with a burst of shouts and angry voices. I couldn’t see clearly, but there were several of them rolling and fighting – no doubt a drunken punch-up, but I turned off and hurried down Neal Road. I wouldn’t normally come this way, but I’d cut along to Crossland and head down towards the old cemetery.
The street lights were out on Neal Road, but I knew my way well enough. I couldn’t resist looking over my shoulder again and was alarmed to see someone still behind me. The same someone, or just a coincidental someone?
I screamed as I was grabbed – and then I laughed with relief at the woman embracing me and apologising. She’d come out of one of the houses, down the short path and made herself jump as well, by running straight into me. We were both laughing with relief, apologising.
“Are you heading this way?” I asked, but no, she was going to the top of Beech Road to try and catch the all-night bus..
I looked after her as she hurried away. There was no sign of the person who’d seemed to be following me. I heard the owl again, and then a terrible shriek and even though I was sure it was the fox, I began to run. The street lights had gone off and I seemed to be heading into a dark tunnel.
The house on the corner of Neal and Crossland had its lights blazing and I wondered if I should go up their path and knock on their door… but that was ridiculous, it was less than ten minutes to my flat, cutting through the old cemetery…
There was something by the doormat in the porch – a lamp or a light and I stopped to stare – it was a pumpkin lantern! Of course, it was Halloween! The candles in the grotesque grinning head flickered as if the thing was laughing at me – I’d only read about them in Agatha Christie and Ngaio Marsh books.
I jumped at a noise – it must be the fox, but it sounded as if the giant pumpkin had given an evil chuckle and I took off, running like a thing pursued. As I ran, the streetlights went off, one by one as if the darkness was following me.
And now I could hear footsteps but I didn’t turn to look, didn’t turn to check on who was running – or what was running. All the houses along Crossland were asleep, I was heading towards the old cemetery and maybe there would be folk near there, spilling out of the Horse and Jockey as time was called.
It was a blur but suddenly I was in the light, and in among a crowd of people standing near the gate of the old cemetery.
“It’s alright, love, you haven’t missed last orders! They’ve got a Halloween extension!” someone shouted.
I stopped and looked back down Crossland, like a dark tunnel, and maybe I could see a figure receding as they moved away from the graveyard.
Someone had followed me, or maybe they had just been coming in the same direction and had changed their mind, maybe…
