#And we just straight up couldn't find it - found the base! But not the cloth-and-rope part the actual hammock bit

[sysig]

♥!

[penname-artist]

Pretty hardcore angst/whump (So, reader warning here for hostages, gunshot wounds, suggestive content, and scarring multiple characters for several lifetimes) rated M

-

Dusty stirred, tightening his brow as he tried to move his head. Everything felt so heavy, he could scarcely lift even a few fingers. More perplexing was the fact that even as he tried to put more strength into it, his wrists felt tight and unmoving. Like they were bound.

He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust to the scene in front of him. He was slumped over in a chair, and as his vision finally focused, a rope on either wrist and across his torso was keeping him there. As he tried to lift his feet, he found his ankles had been dealt the same.

He snapped to attention faster than gunfire, his eyes open wide as panic began to flood his nervous system. He whipped his head around, noting the shabby scene of a decrepit room, likely a basement, with barricaded windows and cut ceiling wires.

Something creaked behind him suddenly. Every hair on his body went on end, trembling in fear. As he listened though, it wasn't the creak of a door nor a stair step. It was a groan, something drawn out and pained.

He dared to glance behind him. His height was to his advantage over the chair while the torso rope was not. He could just barely see someone strapped to a chair mirroring him, with dark curls and tanned skin...

"Nick?" He whispered shakily. The other male responded with only a groan, his head hung low over his frame. But it had to be Nick. His height, his build...

"Nick, Nick get up!" Dusty said, as loud as he dared in the terrifying space. He could barely make out the outline of a door in the corner, but it was heavy and rusted, it would make a lot of sound before they had to worry about someone coming in.

Nick stirred more, trying to lift his head. Dusty started to pull against his binds in earnest, gritting his teeth as he tried to wrench them out of place. They'd been smart, using a thick rope, and every attempt to wriggle out left Dusty's hands burnt up from the scratchy material. Nothing was around him, and nothing was on his person aside from his clothes and- his jacket, where was his jacket??

"Nnhg.."

Dusty turned back to the half-asleep man behind him. "Nick, are you okay?"

"Where..." He mumbled, squinting at the ceiling, "...where am I...?"

"Nick?"

The older male turned his head to the familiar voice, staring groggily at Dusty. Until they widened with realization.

"Wh-...where are we, what's going on??" He went through Dusty's panic, yanking against his identical binds, finding them equally challenging. "What the fuck, what the fuck!?"

"What happened, how did we get here?" Dusty asked, hoping Nick had a better clue than he did. Maybe it was just an awful and trippy nightmare, or else a horrible, horrible, sick prank.

"I-..I don't know! I was-" he winced, finally ceasing his struggles when it dawned on him he was just making it worse. "I just remember going to bed last night, and Blade crawled in at, uh...eleven? Twelve? And that was it! I don't remember anything that happened after that..."

Dusty's heart sank. He didn't have much else to add, either. "The last thing I remember was falling asleep in my hangar in the base...I think I...maybe I got up...I think I got dressed and started to head out, and then...then..." He tightened his brow again, hoping that if he focused hard enough he would just remember. Something happened, something very strange happened, but it was so blurry, he couldn't make sense of any of it.

He shook his head, "I'm dreaming, th-this isn't real, this isn't happening..." His heart began to pound in his ears, his body shaking horribly.

A loud 'Click!' bounced across the walls, and both males sat straight up, their eyes glued to the door. There was some fumbling, muffled noises from the other side, and then the full weight of a body shoved the door unceremoniously open. A tall, bald male littered with tattoos walked in, and behind him, a man with greasy hair and broken teeth had someone by the collar of their shirt. They swung the victim forward, pushing them into the room ahead of him. He stumbled forward, and his eyes fell on his partner and trainee.

Blade choked back a sound, unable to let anything through the gag in his mouth. The man behind him pushed into the small of his back with a gun, prompting him forward just until he was in the light. Only then could the two see him: littered with cuts and bruises, sweat staining through his casual work uniform. His hands were tied behind him, and his nose looked like it'd been broken. He'd put up a fight and a half.

"Blade.." Nick hoarsed, suddenly aware this was no game or prank. The man who had been through the door first was at his other side, and he grabbed his chin suddenly, turning him back to face his dark eyes. He smiled, "I think I'll leave my bet with you, pretty thing." Cold fear paralyzed Nick all the way through, even as the threat chuckled and rose away, letting go of him.

"What's going on?" Dusty cracked, scared for his life. "Why are you doing this..?" He watched the larger male step around him, his eyes wandering up and down his slender frame. Without his jacket on, he looked even thinner in his slim-fitted T-shirt. The man smiled,

"nothin personal, 'cept for him." He motioned to Blade, who looked ready to collapse on the floor, more over his concern for Nick and Dusty's sake than his own. "Plus I like some good third action, you'll do fine..."

He turned to Blade, clapping his hands together with a knowing smile. His partner grinned behind him.

"You've already been through a few rounds. So I'll let you pick. Who gets it next?"

Blade paled, at the realization he had to choose between the two. They'd been drugged and kidnapped innocent, and they were forcing him to choose someone to take it further. He shook his head, already feeling his legs give out under him. The man's gun pointed up into him, and he stilled just enough to stabilize himself. When he came back up, the choice was obvious.

He pointed his chin down, gesturing to himself, to the others collective growl.

"Always the protector." the first male spat.

The man behind him chuckled, "Protect with this, then!" and pulled the trigger against his right shoulder.

Three different screams hit the walls at the same time: Blade's, as his body twitched and collapsed onto the floor, and the hostage witnesses, both brought to hysteria through the weight of a single bullet.

Through the shrieking for Blade to get up, the smaller man darted around to Dusty, slipping the gun against his chest as he leaned into the side of his face. He froze up solid, tears still streaming down his cheeks. Nick was struggling and screaming behind him, but Dusty couldn't even hear. He was phasing out, losing consciousness, and the last thing he saw was a hand, reaching up to run through his hair before the deadly scene blacked out of existence once again.

[thatsgay-writes]

Korrasami x Reader

Summary: Telling your kids how you met their mothers.

Warning: Light cursing?

Ages: Korra- 29 (Flashback 1- 17) Asami-30 (Flashback 1- 18) You- 31 (Flashback 1- 19) Kids- 5

(You are a female.)

"Alright guys, you get one story each before bed." You say to your son and two daughters as you tuck them into bed. "I'm already in enough trouble with your mommies so we gotta play by the book tonight." Your kids laugh remembering what happened 2 nights ago. "Y'all need to chill, this is my last night on the couch, so bedtime needs to go perfect." They nod their heads in understanding. "Okay, youngest to oldest tonight." Your youngest daughter nods her head, "It's only by three minutes but I want to hear the story about how you and mom met and got together." "Okay, buckle up kids, it's gonna be a wild ride."

*Flashback Start*

You had been undercover in Amon's group for two years before you met Asami. You were the perfect person to go undercover, no one knew that there was a fifth air bender. No one also knew that you were related to Lin and Tenzin. That was fine with you because it means you could fly under the radar and do undercover missions. It also helps that you declined getting your master air bender tattoos, even though your dad was pissed about it. Meeting Asami was a complete accident. You had just worked your way to the third in command position under the lieutenant and were now more involved with Amon's plans. You had gone to a facility for the day to over see some training. This was also the same day team avatar decided to sneak in and see if they could learning anything more about Amon's plans. One thing about being one of the top leaders in Amon's group is that you always travel with a group of high trained equalists and that was not something the group was prepared for. You made sure you didn't fight because you didn't want to hurt the group of teens your dad had talked so highly about. It was hard not to jump in and aide the group when Asami got knocked out and they were forced to retreat without her.

You had taken her back to a secondary main base, not wanting Amon to get mad at you for taking her to the main base. Now it was just a waiting game for you, waiting for team avatar to come and rescue her. But until then you got to know her a little. She didn't trust you at all what so ever, until you showed her your air bending, small air bending tattoos that were easy to cover, and told her who your parents are. She was a little skeptical at first but started to believe you, it probably helped that you were cute too. By the second week, you were getting kind of worried. "Where are your friends? I didn't think you would be here this long." Asami sighs and shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know, I thought they would be here by now too." You bit your lip in thought before crouching down. You put your hand on Asami's cheek and she leaned into it. "I'll have you out by tonight." You say with a look of determination on your face. "But your cover could get blow, who knows what Amon would do if he found out you could bend." "Well I better not get caught then."

You arrived at one in the morning to get Asami, you also had a shift then so it wouldn't seem suspicious. You had brought sleeping powder and used your air bending to spray it on all the guards. You grabbed the keys from one of the guards and unlocked the door. You gave a sigh of relief when you saw Asami still there, she was supposed to be getting transferred tonight to the main base. She looks up when you walk in and smiles. You return the smile before rushing to get the ropes off of her. "I got new Intel that they were moving you to the main base tonight, some time soon. So we need to get you out of here fast. If anyone asks, I did not help you and you never met me during your time here." You say and once you finish untying her, Asami turns around and hugs you. You allow your self to relax a little in her hold before your phone starts beeping. You tense and pull away from the hug, then push her a little towards the door. "You need to go now! The trucks are less than five minutes out." Asami nods and you start leading her towards the back door. "If you follow the alley down and take the third right, it will lead you straight to the docks and I left a boat there for you to use to get to Avatar Island."

Asami nods and hugs you again, "Are you sure you can't come with me?" You sake your head with a small smile, "I wish I could but the end is near and we will meet again soon." She gives you a kiss on the cheek before sprinting out the door. You take a second to watch her run away into the night before finding a place to lay and knock yourself out with the last of the sleeping powder.

*Time Skip*

It was over. You couldn't believe, after two years of hard work, Amon is finally gone. You had heard from some officers that Lin, team Avatar, and the air bending family were on Avatar island (I just realized that its Air Temple island but I've wrote Avatar Island too many times to go back and fix it. So just know when I say Avatar Island, I mean Air Temple Island.) You were ecstatic to be able to see your mom, dad, and half siblings for the first time in two years. You had heard that your mom and Avatar Korra lost their bending and you wanted to be there for your mom. You were so excited you didn't even think about changing clothes, which might have been a bad idea. After using air to make you run fast over the water, you landed on Avatar island to see Lin, team avatar and the rest of your family in a group talking. "Guys!" you yell in excitement. When they turn to you most of them (Korra, Asami, Mako, Bolin, Tenzin, Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo) get into a fighting stance. You look behind you confused before realizing you hadn't taken off your mask yet.

"Ohhhh, sorry forgot about that." You say as you reach up to take off your mask. As you do Mako sends a line of fire at you. "Whoa! Chill out man!" You say as you air bend and disperse the fire before it hits you and yank your mask off. Tenzin, Lin, Asami, and your siblings all get big smiles on their face. Before Tenzin, Lin, or your siblings can move, Asami runs at you and jumps into you for a hug. You laugh as you put your hands under her thighs to hold her up as she wraps around you like a koala. "Well it's good to see you too Asami." Asami leans back and rolls her eyes before pulling you into a kiss. Your eyes widen for a second in shock before you close your eyes and return the kiss. When you both pull back you have a big goofy smile, "If it was gonna be like that, I should have just left with you."

*Flashback End*

"Alright which story do you want next?"

NEXT

[thekillingjoke-haha]

These Lips Are Sealed

Marvel & Supernatural Bingo and SPN Quote Bingo

Cursed Square

Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Characters Mentioned: Castiel,OFCS

Tags: @thisismysecrethappyplace & @spnquotebingo

Y/n doesn't remember when she got this velvet ribbon tied around her neck and she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to take it off. She only wished to find a skilled enough witch to break her curse or hell the one who started it all.

Three hundred and twenty years walking the earth no bonded by iron shackles or chains,but one dainty feather light object that adored her neck that weighed so much yet so little. She was a doomed soul and was plagued to carry the burden of another til she decided enough is enough and undid the tight ribbon like many did before her which would only pass it to another.

Y/n has seen wars that tore families apart and illnesses that wiped out whole population and here she was at a bar with a single pool table and only a few booths. The place was far from packed looked more deserted than anything. Sipping her beer she looked down at the bar top. About a hundred years into her immoral prison she started hunting which became her job hunting the monsters that she related too.

Many have wondered why she wore the soiling red ribbon around her neck and they have asked millions of questions,but her answer stayed the same. "These lips are sealed." She's never stayed around hunters long they tend to sniff out something supernatural. The sound of the bar doors opening caused her to shift he gaze from the bar napkin with water mark ring to the entrance. Three men walked in two of them in plaid while the shortest of the trio wore a trench coat.

The moment her [E/c] eyes landed on them she knew exactly who they were. She knew a Winchester when she saw one she hunted along side many Winchester's before them. They walked over to a booth and were quickly served drinks as they chatted most likely about the witch in town.

Y/n couldn't look away from the tall brunette. He was quite handsome,but that thought left her mind as soon as it came. She threw back what was left in her bottle and got up calmly walked to their table. "Can I help you,sweetheart?" The blonde said giving her a smirk. "I came here to just say. Your not needed in town I can handle the witchy bitch causing trouble." She said which left the brothers slack jawed in awe. A sweet smile spread on her face the angel shook the oldest out of his shock and she reached over towards the youngest pushing his jaw up. "Wouldn't want you to catch flies,darlin'." She said giggling as she stood up straight ready to leave. "Enjoy your drinks,boys." She waved as she left them their.

Sam turned to Cas who just sat there looking at them. "Do you know who that is?" He asked. He couldn't get her out of his mind. She wore a black leather jacket with a black undershirt and dark blue Jean's. The one thing that stood out about her was the ruby red ribbon wrapped around her neck. "Sammy's got a crush!~" Dean said in a sing song voice teasing his brother.The angel had his brows frowned. "I don't know who she was,but she didn't seem completely human." He said causing the brothers to tense up. What was she? "She's nothing supernatural as far as I could tell,but she does have a cursed object on her." This relaxed his nerves a bit.

"Maybe that's why she's here. Probably tracked down the witch that cursed her." Dean said sipping his beer as we sat there. "Should we help her?" Sam asked as he plays with the bottle in his hand. He wanted to help,but he didn't know how normally killing the witch or salt and burning the object can reverse the spell,but he had no idea what was the root of it. "I believe that would be the right thing." Cas said from his spot next to Dean.

~Time Skip~

It was a trap. The moment they thought they cornered the witch she reversed the roles. Cas was pushed out of the house with angel banishing symbol she made with her blood on the walls,Dean was pinned to the ground by a shelf that toppled over trying to reach ruby’s blade, and Sam was being pushed back. His insides felt like the were set on fire as the witch got closer that he had to scream in agony. “Can’t believe I’ll be the one to kill a Winchester this time for good.” She said with a giggle that seemed to deafen Sam’s hearing before the grin on her face fell. “Well sorry to tell ya this,but not all dreams come true.” A voice said behind the supernatural being as her hold on him weakened when she fell to the floor ruby's knife in her back. “So they weren’t kidding when they said this thing could kill anything.” Y/n hummed as she took the knife out of the witches back wiping it off on the corpse clothes.

A loud thud was heard as her head snapped to the side as her eyes roll in the back of her skull. She fell unconscious backwards into Deans arms after he dropped the large book that most likely knocked her out. “What the hell!?!?!” Sam shouted as he stood up from his position on the ground. “What we don’t know what cursed her and what it is.” He defended himself. “I agree with Dean. I couldn’t tell if she was what she is completely just that there is some human in her just not enough for her to not be a threat.” Sam understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood what they were getting at. He had no idea why he cared so much about her,but there was something that wanted him to look after her,to protect her, to love her.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open she was in a concert walled room in the center of a demon trap surrounded by salt. She lifted her gaze and saw the Winchesters and their angel stood in front of her looking right back. “Well hello again boys.” She said to them,but she kept her eyes on Sam and smiled. “Didn’t know saving you would get me here...no foreplay just straight to the nitty gritty. I’m intrigued.” Laughter rung throughout the room at the tall mans flushed face. “Woah,Sammy you found yourself a keeper.” Dean snorted.

She shifted in the chair. “So,why am I here?” She asked. Y/n obviously was stripped of her weapons along with her leather jacket,but thankfully they left her ribbon alone. “You’re cursed with something.” Castial said and this made the woman tied in the chair giggle. “I know I’m cursed known ever since I was around eighteen.” She said simply. Sam was shocked. “Y-you knew. Why didn’t do anything about it?” He said as he stepped closer. “I couldn’t had no idea what to do and if I asked for help I would have been killed.” Y/n said with a sigh.

“What’s the cursed object you have?” Dean asked for his position leaning against the wall. “These lips are sealed.” She said with a blank expression before her calming smile reappeared.”Can’t ask direct questions. This thing won’t allow it.” Y/n said as she shifted her bruised wrist. “Alright then. Is something currently on you cursed?” She nodded her head. “Would we be able to get rid of it?” She shrugged generally having no idea if the burden can be lifted. “Do you know what spirit is connected to you” She nodded again.”What about my attire stands out?” She hinted at feeling the ribbon tingle a bit in warning.Dean looked her up and down,but nothing caught his eye. Sam noticed immediately the only color on her besides her lipstick was the blood red ribbon wrapped tightly around her neck. “The ribbon. Do you know the lore behind it?” Sam asked. Y/n nodded and cleared her throat. 

“'In 1500′s two sisters both witches,Elizabeth and Clementine, were the the most beautiful in their village the oldest, Elizabeth, was the more flirtatious of them and held eyes for the handsomest man in town, but he didn’t like her. He liked her sister though. He confessed his love for Clem and a wedding day was set this put her sister in a jealous rage. She went to the towns people and said Clem was a witch that would turn against them all after she was wed.' Jealousy turned to hatred and hatred leads to mistakes. " She paused in telling the story to say the last bit.

Y/n uncomfortably stretched her neck hissing silently. She's never spoke about her curse so openly and the object wasn't sure if it was a direct answer so it was giving her a warning,but she kept on. "'They barged into the family’s home and took her out of her bed that she shared with her fiance to the center of the town to be exacted. As she was placed in the geateen she screamed cursing that everyone and their children til the end of their filthy bloodlines that they would face the same fate she will. Clem looked her sister in the eye smiled and said 'Your first.' as the blade came down a silk ribbon appeared on all the females in the town just like her own. Many were confused and pulled them killing the person who had the ribbon.” Y/n shifted a bit. “That’s the story...I should know I’ve seen it happen to my mom and grandmother first hand. I’m third generation of the curse the last living person with it.” 

Sam looked at her in shock she’s been on this earth staying alive just so the curse didn't move on to anyone that shared her blood even distinctly. "So can I be untied?" She asked. Sam went over to her and undid the ropes as she stood up to full height. "Is there anyway we could help?" He asked her wanting to help her get rid of this burden. "There is one way."

The four of them left the dungeon and went to the library. "We need to find the original. Her ribbon is the base of the curse so with it gone a ripple effect will get rid of the others." Y/n explained as she opened up books. "The trick is her remains were never burnt and theirs no burial plot for a convicted witch." She said with a sigh as she rubbed her forehead.

"So we go to Salem, Organ and if Cas can since the power of your ribbon it should be strong enough for him to pinpoint a grave to dig." Sam explained looking up at her with a small smile which she returned. "Let's get to it." She clapped her hands together.

Time Skip~

The group of four walked into the clearing in the forest where the which was supposedly buried. Y/n scratched her neck for what felt like the millionth time since the stepped foot in Salem. "This must be it." She said as blood started to drip below the cut of the ribbon. The brothers eyes widen in shock as they started digging around since it seemed they were running out of time. As they dug Cas kept healing her neck,but the blood kept flowing despite his attempts to stop it. Y/n leaned against a tree dizzy as she tried to keep consciousness.

Bones were dug up and that's when the youngest Winchester used his hands to uncover them and there he saw it the perfectly in condition silk ribbon around a headless skeletons neck. Dean started the salting,but before he could do the burning Sam delicately pulled the ribbon undoing it before crawling out of the grave to let it burn.

They set it aflame and watched as the flames became a mesmerizing purple before it was put out completely. Sam turned around and ran over to the women he grew found of within moments after meeting her. She was blinking slowly trying to stay awake her head lulled to the side. "Pull...the...ribbon." Her distant voice said. He reached up and shakily undid it and just like that the bleeding stopped. The seemingly fresh cut sailed itself making it seem there was never one there.

"Thank you." She said as she lost consciousness. Sam shouted as the three men scrabbled to gather things as he carried her bridle style as Cas teleported them to the bunker. He walked to his bedroom and gently layed her on the bed as he left to get a wash cloth to clean the blood. The warm cloth wiped away the dried blood away as he sat next to he was so captivated by her beautiful features he didn't notice her waking up.

Y/n felt pressure on her neck as she opened her eyes. She was looking up at him as he looked down at her lost in a daze. "So...You're not gonna and kill me,are you?" She asked shacking him from his thoughts. Sam's eyes widened in shock. "No." He said as he removed his hand from her neck placing the wash cloth on the dresser. "Cause that would be awkward. Especially after this." She said with a smile causing him to frown. "After wha–" He was cut off by her pushing herself up to met his lips. Pulling away both of them grinning as they looked at each other. "We can't tell Dean. I won't be able to handle the teasing." Sam said as he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "These lips are sealed."

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

A/n: Second story posted to day. Woah look at me being productive and shit! Again as I said before. Happy Pride!!!🏳️‍🌈 And stay safe out there. 😷 🤢😷 & ✊🏼B✊🏽L✊🏾M✊🏿

[themousefromfantasyland]

"Dark Christmas"

By Jeanette Winterson

So, people used to tell ghosts stories during the holidays. During my last posts about Christmas creatures and hidden holiday lore, I talked about this amazing, but sadly forgotten holiday tradition, and how we should bring it back. So, consider this my contribution.

I searched for a good Christmas ghost story to share, and I found a good one here

So here it comes:

We had borrowed the house from a friend none of us seemed to know.

Highfallen House stood on an eminence overlooking the sea. It was a square Victorian gentleman's residence. The large bay windows looked down through the pines towards the shore. Six stone steps led the visitor up to the double front door where a gothic bell-pull released a loud mournful clang deep into the distances of the house.

Laurel lined the drive. The stable block was disused. The walled garden had been locked up in 1914 when the gardeners went to war. Only one had returned. I had been warned that the high brick wall enclosing the garden was unsafe. As I passed it slowly in the car, I saw a faded notice falling off the paint-peeled door. DO NOT ENTER.

I was the first to arrive. My friends were following by train and I was to collect them the next day and then we would settle down to Christmas.

I had driven from Bristol and I was tired. There was a Christmas tree roped on the top of my 4x4 and a trunk-load of provisions. We were not near any town. But the housekeeper had left stacked wood to build a fire and I had brought a shepherd's pie and a bottle of rioja for my first night.

The kitchen was cheerful enough once I had got the fire going and the radio playing while I unpacked our festive supplies. I checked my phone – no signal. Still, I knew the time of the train tomorrow and it was a relief to feel that the world had gone away. I put my food in the oven to heat up, poured a glass of wine, and went upstairs to find myself a bedroom.

The first landing had three bedrooms leading off it. Each had a moth-eaten rug, a metal bed and a mahogany chest of drawers. At the far end of the landing was a second set of stairs up to the attic floor.

I am not romantic about maids' rooms or nurseries, and there was something about that second set of stairs that made me hesitate. The landing was bright in the sudden way of late sun on a winter's afternoon. Yet the light ended abruptly at the foot of the stairs as though it couldn't go any farther. I didn't want to be near that set of stairs, so I chose the room at the front of the house.

As I went to bring up my bag, the house bell started to ring, its jerky metallic hammers sounding somewhere in the guts of the house. I was surprised but not alarmed. I expected the housekeeper. I opened the door. There was no one there. I went down the steps and looked round. I admit I was frightened. The night was clear and soundless. There was no car in the distance. No footsteps walking away. Determined to conquer my fear, I walked round a little. Then, turning back to the house, I saw it; the bell wire ran along the side of the house under a sheltering gutter. Perhaps 30 or 40 bats were dangling upside down on the vibrating wire. The same number swooped and swerved in a dark mass. Obviously their movement on the wire had set off the bell. I like bats. Clever bats. Good. Now supper.

I ate. I drank. I wondered why love is so hard and life is so short. I went to bed. The room was warmer now and I was ready to sleep. The sound of the sea ebbed into the flow of my dreams.

I woke from a dead sleep in dead darkness to hear�� what? What can I hear? It sounded like a ball bearing or a marble rolling on the bare floor above my head. It rolled hard on hard then hit the wall. Then it rolled again in the other direction. This might not have mattered except that the other direction was upwards. Things can come loose and roll downwards, but they cannot come loose and roll up. Unless someone…

That thought was so unwelcome that I dismissed it along with the law of gravity. Whatever was rolling over my head must be a natural dislodging. The house was draughty and unused. The attics were under the eaves where any kind of weather might get in. Weather or an animal. Remember the bats. I pulled the covers up to my eyebrows and pretended not to listen.

There it was again: hard on hard on hit on pause on roll.

I waited for sleep, waiting for daylight.

We are lucky, even the worst of us, because daylight comes.

It was a brooding day that 21st of December. The shortest day of the year. Coffee, coat on, car keys. Shouldn't I just check the attic?

The second set of stairs was narrow – a servants' staircase. It led to a lath and plaster corridor barely a shoulder-width wide. I started coughing. Breathing was difficult. Damp had dropped the plaster in thick, crumbling heaps on the floorboards. As below, there were three doors. Two were closed. The door to the room above my room was ajar. I made myself go forward.

The room was under the eaves as I had guessed. The floor was rough. There was no bed, only a washstand and a clothes rail.

What surprised me was the nativity scene in the corner.

Standing about two feet tall, it was more like a doll's house than a Christmas decoration. Inside the open-fronted stable stood the animals, the shepherds, the crib, Joseph. Above the roof, on a bit of wire, was a battered star. It was old, handmade in a workmanlike but not craftsmanlike sort of way, the painted wood now rubbed and faded like pigments of time.

I thought I would carry it downstairs and put it by our Christmas tree. It must have been made for the children when there were children here. I stuffed my pockets with the figures and animals, and left quickly, leaving the door open. I had to set off for the station. Stephen and Susie could help me with the rest later.

As soon as I was out of the house, my lungs felt clear again. It must be the plaster dust.

The drive to the station was along the coast road. Lonely and unyielding, the road turned in a series of blind bends and tight corners. I met no one and I saw no one. Gulls circled over the sea.

The station itself was a simple shelter on a long single track. There were no information boards. I checked my phone. No signal.

At last the train appeared distantly down the track. I was excited. Memories of visiting my father as a child when he was stationed at his RAF base give me a rush of pleasure whenever I travel by train or come to meet one.

The train slowed and halted. The guard stood down for a moment. I watched the doors – it wasn't a big train, this branch line train – but none of the doors opened. I waved at the guard who came over.

"I am meeting my friends."

He shook his head. "Train's empty. Next stop is the end of the line."

I was confused. Had they got off at the earlier stop? I described them. The guard shook his head again. "I notice strangers. They would have boarded at Carlisle, asked me where to get off – always do."

"Is there another train before tomorrow?'

"One a day and that's your lot, and more than anybody needs in a place like this. Where are you staying?"

"Highfallen House. Do you know it?"

"Oh aye. We all know it." He looked as if he were about to say something else. Instead, he blew his whistle. The empty train pulled away, leaving me staring down the long track watching the red light like a warning.

I needed to get a signal on my phone.

I drove on past the station, following the steep hill, hoping some height would connect me to the rest of the world. At the top of the hill I stopped the car and got out, pulling up the collar of my coat. The first snow hit my face with insect insistence. Sharp and spiteful, like little bites.

I looked out across the whitening bay. That must be Highfallen House. But what's that? Two figures walking on the beach. Is it Stephen and Susie? Had they driven here after all? Then, as I strained my eyes against the deceit of distance, I realised that the second figure was much smaller than the first. They were walking purposefully towards the house.

When I arrived back, it was nearly dark.

I put on the lights, blew the fire into a blaze. There was no sign of the mysterious couple I had seen from the hill. Perhaps it had been the housekeeper and her daughter come to make sure that everything was all right. I had a telephone number for Mrs Wormwood, but without a signal I could not call her.

The snow was thickening in windy swirls. Relax. Have a whisky.

I leaned on the warm kitchen range with my whisky in my hand. The wooden figures I had brought down from the attic were lying on the kitchen table. I should go up and get the stable.

I don't want to.

I bounded up the first set of stairs using energy to force out unease. At my bedroom I put on the light. That felt better. The second set of stairs stood in shadow at the end of the long landing. I felt that constriction in my lungs again. Why am I holding on to the handrail like an old man?

I could see that the only light to the attic was at the top of the stairs. I found the round brown Bakelite switch. I flicked down the nipple. A single bulb lit up reluctantly. The room was straight ahead. The door was closed. Hadn't I left it open?

I turned the handle and stood in the doorway, the room dimly lit by the light from the stairs. Washstand. Nativity. Clothes rail. On the clothes rail was a child's dress. I hadn't noticed that before. I suppose I had been in a hurry. Pushing aside my misgivings, I went in purposefully and bent down to pick up the wooden nativity. It was heavy and I had just got it secure in my arms when the light on the landing went out.

Hello? Who's there?

There's someone breathing like they can barely breathe. Not faint. Struggling for breath. I mustn't turn round, because whoever or whatever it is, is behind me.

I stood still for a minute, steadying my nerve. Then I shuffled forward towards the edge of light coming up from downstairs. At the doorway I heard a step behind me, lost my balance and put out a hand to steady myself. My hand gripped something wet. The clothes rail. It must be the dress.

My heart was over-beating. Don't panic. Bakelite. Bad wiring. Strange house. Darkness. Aloneness.

But you're not alone, are you?

Back in the kitchen with whisky, Radio 4 and pasta boiling, I examined the dress. It was for a small child and it was hand-knitted. The wool was smelly and sopping. I washed it out and left it hanging over the sink to drip. I guessed there must be a hole in the roof and the dress had been soaking up the rain for a long time.

I ate my supper, tried to read, told myself it had been nothing, nothing at all. It was only 8pm. I didn't want to go to bed, though the snow outside was like a quilt.

I decided to arrange the nativity. Donkey, sheep, camels, wise men, shepherds, star, Joseph. The crib was there, but it was empty. There was no Christ child. And there was no Mary. Had I dropped them in the dark room? I hadn't heard anything fall and these wooden figures were six inches tall.

Joseph was wearing a woollen tunic, but his wooden legs had painted puttees. I pulled off the tunic. Underneath, wooden Joseph wore a painted uniform. First world war.

When I turned him round, I saw there was a gash in his back like a stab wound.

My phone beeped.

I dropped Joseph, grabbed the phone. It was a text message from Susie. TRYING 2 CALL U. LEAVE 2MORO.

I pressed CALL. Nothing. I tried to send a text. Nothing. But what did it matter? Suddenly I felt relief and calm. They had been delayed, that was all. Tomorrow they would be here.

I sat down again with the nativity. Perhaps the missing figures were inside. I put in my hand. My fingers closed round a metal object. It was a small iron key with a hoop top. Maybe it was the key to the attic door.

Outside, snow had fallen snow on snow. The sky had cleared. The moon sped above the sea.

I had gone to bed and I was deep asleep when I heard it clearly. Above me. Footsteps. Pacing. Down the room. Hesitate. Turn. Return.

I lay in bed, eyes staring blindly at the blind ceiling. Why do we open our eyes when we can't see anything? And what was there to see? I don't believe in ghosts.

I wanted to put on the light, but what if the light didn't come on? Why would it be worse to be in darkness I had not chosen than darkness I was choosing? But it would be worse. I sat up in bed and pulled back the curtain a little. The moon had been so bright tonight, surely there would be light?

There was light. Outside the house, hand in hand, stood the still and silent figures of a mother and child.

I did not sleep again till daylight, and when I slept and woke again, it was almost midday and already the light was lowering.

Hurrying to get coffee, I saw that the dress was gone. I had left it dripping over the sink and it was gone. Get out of the house.

I set off for the station. There was an air frost that had coated the trees in glittering white. It was beautiful and deathly. The world held in ice.

On the road there were no car tracks. No noise but the roar and drop of the sea.

I moved slowly and saw no one. In the white, unmoving landscape, I wondered if there was anyone else left alive?

At the station, I waited. I waited some time past the time until the train whistled on the track. The train stopped. The guard got down and saw me. He shook his head. "There's no one," he said. "No one at all."

I thought I would cry. I took out my mute phone. I flashed up the message. TRYING TO CALL U. LEAVE 2MORO.

The guard looked at it. "Happen it's you who should be leaving," he said. "There's no more trains past Carlisle now till the 27th. Tomorrow was the last and that's been cancelled. Weather."

I wrote down a number and gave it to the guard. "Will you phone my friends and tell them I am on my way home?"

On the slow journey back to Highfallen House, I filled my mind with my departure. It would be slow and dangerous to travel at night, but I could not consider another night alone. Or not alone.

All I had to do was manage 40 miles to Inchbarn. There was a pub and a guesthouse and remote but normal life.

The text message kept playing in my head. Had it really meant that I should leave? And why? Because Susie and Stephen couldn't come? Weather? Illness? It's all a guessing game. The fact is, I have to go.

The house seemed subdued when I returned. I had left the lights on and I went straight upstairs to pack my bag. At once I saw that the light to the attic was on. I paused. Breathed. Of course it's on. I never switched it off. That proves it's a wiring fault. I must tell the housekeeper.

My bag packed, I threw the food into a box and put everything back in the car. I had the whisky in the front, a blanket I stole from the bed, and I made a hot-water bottle, just in case.

It was only five o'clock. At worst I'd be in Inchbarn by 9pm.

I got in the car and turned the key. The radio came on for a second, died, and as the ignition clicked and clicked, I knew that the battery was flat. Two hours ago at the station, the car had started first time. Even if I had left the lights on… But I hadn't left the lights on. A cold panic hit me. I took a swig of the whisky. I couldn't sleep in the car all night. I would die.

I don't want to die.

Back in the house, I wondered what I was going to do all night. I must not fall asleep. I had noticed some old books and volumes when I had explored downstairs yesterday – assorted dusty adventure stories and tales of empire. As I sorted through them, I came across a faded velvet photograph album. In the cold, deserted sitting room, I began to discover the past.

Highfallen House 1910. The women in long skirts with miraculous waists. The men in shooting tweeds. The stable boys in waistcoats, the gardening boys wearing flat caps. The maids in starched aprons. And here they are again in their Sunday best: a wedding photograph. Joseph and Mary Lock. 1912. He was a gardener. She was a maid. In the back of the album, loose and unsorted, were further photographs and newspaper cuttings. 1914. The men in uniform. There was Joseph.

I took the album back into the kitchen and put it next to my wooden solider. I had on my coat and scarf. I propped myself up in two chairs by the wood-fired range and dozed and waited and waited and dozed.

It was perhaps two o'clock when I heard a child crying. Not a child who has scraped his knee, or lost a toy, but an abandoned child. A child whose own voice is his last hold on life. A child who cries and knows that no one will come.

The sound was not above me – it was above the above me. I knew where it was coming from.

I put my hands over my ears and my head between my knees. I could not shut out the sound; a locked-up child, a hungry child, a child who is cold and wet and frightened.

Twice I got up and went to the door. Twice I sat down again.

The crying stopped. Silence. A dreadful silence.

I raised my head. Footsteps were coming down the stairs. Not one foot in front of the other, but one foot dragging slightly, then the other joining it, steadying, stepping again.

At the bottom of the stairs, the footsteps paused. Then they did what I knew they would do with all the terror in my body. The footsteps came towards the kitchen door. Whatever was out there was standing 12 feet away on the other side of the door. I stood behind the table and picked up a knife.

The door swung open with violent force that rammed the brass doorknob into the plaster of the wall. Wind and snow blew into the kitchen, whirling up the photographs and cuttings on the table. I saw that the front door itself was wide open, the entrance hall like a wind tunnel.

Holding the knife, I went forward into the hall to shut the door. The pendant metal lantern that hung from the ceiling was swinging wildly on its long chain. A sudden gust lurched it forward like a child's swing pushed too high. It fell back at force against the large semi-circular fanlight over the front door. The fanlight shattered and fell round my shoulders in shards of sharp rain. Flicker. Buzz. Darkness. The house lights were out. No wind now. No cries. Silence again.

Glass-hit in the snow-lit hall, I walked out of the front door and into the night. At the drive, I turned left and I saw them: the mother and child.

The child was wearing the woollen dress. She had no shoes. She held up her arms piteously to her mother, who stood like stone.

I ran forward. I grabbed the child in my arms.

There was no child. I had fallen face down in the snow.

Help me. That's not my voice.

I'm on my feet again. The mother is ahead of me. I follow her. She's going towards the walled garden. She seems to pass through the door, leaving me on the other side.

DO NOT ENTER

I tried the rusty hoop handle. It broke off, taking a piece of door with it. I kicked the door open. It fell off its hinges. The ruined and abandoned garden lay before me. A walled garden of one acre used to feed 20 people. But that was a long time ago.

There were footprints in the snow. I followed them. They led me to the bothy, its roof patched with corrugated iron. There was no door, but the inside seemed dry and sound. There was a tear-off calendar still on the wall: 22 December 1916.

I put my hand in my pocket and I realised that the key from the nativity was there. At the same time, I heard a chair scrape on the floor in the room beyond. I had no fear any more. As the body first shivers and then numbs with cold, my feelings were frozen. I was moving through shadows as one who dreams.

In the room beyond there was a low fire lit in the tiny tin fireplace. On either side of the fire sat the mother and child. The child was absorbed playing with a marble. Her bare feet were blue, but she did not seem to feel the cold any more than I did.

Are we dead then?

The woman with the shawl over her head looked at me with deep expressionless eyes. I recognised her. It was Mary Lock. She nodded at me, or at not me, at some other me in some other time, I do not know. Her gaze went to a tall cupboard. I knew that my key fitted this cupboard and that I must open it. I did so.

A dusty uniform fell out, crumpling like a puppet. The uniform was not quite empty of its occupant. The back of the faded wool jacket had a long slash where the lungs would have been.

I looked at the knife in my hand.

"Open the door! Are you in there? Open the door!"

I woke to blinding white. Where am I? Something's rocking. It's the car. I am in my car. A heavy glove was brushing off the snow. I sat up, found my keys, pressed the unlock button. It was morning. Outside was the guard from the train and a woman who announced herself as Mrs Wormwood.

"Fine mess you've made here," she said.

We went into the kitchen. I was shivering so much that Mrs Wormwood relented and began to make coffee.

"Alfie fetched me," she said, "after he spoke to your friends."

"There's a body," I said. "In the walled garden."

"Is that where it is?" said Mrs Wormwood.

At Christmas 1914, Joseph Lock had gone to war. Before he left for Flanders, he had made a nativity scene for his little girl. When he came back in 1916, he had been gassed. They heard him, climbing the stairs, gasping for breath through froth-corrupted lungs.

His mind had gone, they said. At night in the attic where he slept with his wife and child, he leaned vacantly against the wall, rolling the child's marbles up and down, down and up, pacing, pacing, pacing. One night, just before Christmas, he strangled his wife and daughter. He left them for dead in the bed and went out. But his wife was not dead. She followed him. In the morning, they found her sitting by the nativity, her dress dark with blood, his fingermarks livid at her throat. She was singing a lullaby and pushing the point of the knife into the back of the wooden figure. Joseph was never found.

"Are you going to call the police?" I said.

"What for?" said Mrs Wormwood. "Let the dead bury the dead."

Alfie the guard went out to see to my car. It started first time, the exhaust blue in the white air. I left them clearing up and was about to set off when I remembered I had left my radio in the kitchen. I went back inside. The kitchen was empty. I could hear the two of them up in the attic. I picked up the radio. The nativity was on the table as I had left it.

But it wasn't as I had left it.

Joseph was there and the animals and the shepherds and the worn-out star. And in the centre was the crib. Next to the crib were the wooden figures of a mother and child.