Free Leave This Place by Spike Black

High Street at that time of night. Or maybe you’d already heard Brian’s story and just forgot. Maybe you heard others talking about it.”
    Silas felt an anger rise within him. That was easy for her to say - she hadn’t experienced it all. He had seen those ghouls with his own eyes. They were not hallucinations or waking dreams or tricks of the light.
    But then a fear gripped him. What if he really was crazy? If that was true, then he couldn’t even trust his senses. It didn’t matter what he saw, or heard, or how much he believed in himself.
    And if he didn’t have Oona’s support going forward… well what then?
    As they followed the trail back to the cottage, Silas realized that he was completely lost.

18

    O ona thought Silas looked exhausted when they returned to the cottage, but he ignored her suggestion to go upstairs for a lie down and crashed on the sofa in the living room instead. After the night he’d had, Oona didn’t argue. She stoked the fire, found an old blanket and wrapped it around him.
    He complained about the cold, and she hugged him until he fell asleep. She stayed with him a while, wondering where they could go from here. For the first time since they’d been away, Oona realized she missed having a TV; it was a welcome distraction when times were tough.
    She left Silas and passed through to the dining room, where she saw the pack of playing cards still on the table. She considered a game of Patience or Solitaire.
    Then she remembered something Silas had said and opened the bureau.
    She found the photo album among a pile of old back issues of Reader’s Digest . It was one of those old-fashioned albums that she remembered her grandparents had when she was a child, with large pages of thick black paper and aged, monochrome photos held in place by mounting corners.
    A musty smell emanated from the pages as she flipped through dozens of black-and-white images of miserable children. Then about half way through, a wedding photo. Bride and groom outside a church, staring glumly at the camera. She recognized the man from the shape of his face, and the handwritten caption beneath the picture confirmed it: The Weddups .
    An ugly child in a Christening gown adorned the next page, then Mr and Mrs Weddup with more children as she leafed through.
    Oona stopped when she came across the very photo that had tormented her from the bedroom wall, only this copy was not as bleached. As a result there was slightly more detail: his eyeballs could be seen within the dark sockets now, staring out at her, and it made an already creepy picture even scarier. She turned the page quickly.
    Color photos now, although they were all of the same brownish hue that came with a combination of age and cheap cameras. There was Mr Weddup again, in the living room of the cottage. Sitting in the armchair that Silas liked so much, upright and miserable as ever. Only this time there was a cat on his lap, staring at the camera with the same disdainful expression.
    Beneath the photo was a caption: Dad and Maude.
    Maude the cat looked awfully familiar. She even had distinctive white markings on her paws that made her look like she was wearing little ankle socks.
    It couldn’t be…
    Actually, now that Oona thought about it, no, it couldn’t. The photo had to be at least twenty years old. She removed the photo from the album and flipped it over.  
    The date scribbled on the back confirmed that the photo was thirty-three years old.
    That settled it, then. She put the photo back in the album and studied the cat. It really was uncanny.
    At that moment there was a loud crash from upstairs, and Oona jumped. She threw the album into the bureau and ran through to the living room.  
    The sofa was empty, and Silas was nowhere to be seen.
    Another noise. A loud crack. She ran into the hall, her heart pounding. Shouted up the stairs.
    “Silas? Silas, what the hell?”

19

    S ilas opened one eye and heard Oona rummaging around in the dining