Laudanum Nights by Stephen Bacon

Author:Stephen Bacon [Bacon, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hersham Horror Books
Published: 2016-09-24T03:00:00+00:00

NINE – Fen House

The train was crowded so Leonard chose a seat towards the rear of the carriage. As he found his place he tried to avoid looking at the faces of the other passengers, many of whom were soldiers returning home from recent tours. Their haunted eyes reflected a truth he was too frightened to know. Many of them were bandaged, nursing wounds. One man, wearing a hood that didn’t quite conceal his disfiguring burns, cried quietly and rocked in his seat.

Leonard had spent a restless night at Raul’s. He’d felt like he had been chased in his dreams by a huge bearded figure with a stiletto dagger, the man’s barking voice calling his name over and over. He’d awoken on the Sunday morning feeling exhausted. Whilst he was grateful for Raul’s hospitality, he’d glanced around the meagre room and felt a twinge of regret at what must have happened to his own belongings in the fire. He made a promise to himself that once this was over he’d visit his parents and try to repair the rift between them.

The train’s rhythm induced a sense of fatigue in him. He slouched in his seat and watched the grey stone view slide past. Monochrome streets, gunmetal skies, soot-blackened tunnels, every sight seemingly identical to the last. As the train drew further and further away from the city, the passengers began to thin out. Each forlorn-looking provincial station seemed identical to the last. Long stretches of bleak wintry countryside lay between each stop, like lapses of consciousness.

By the time the train reached the Marshes the carriage was deserted. Leonard huddled inside his greatcoat, the window beside him steamed by his breath. It was late afternoon. Darkness had consumed the land. The train drew into the station and Leonard disembarked, feeling the stiffness in his limbs.

Frost coated the ground. Finely dressed passengers began eagerly boarding the train, loaded with belongings from their day in the countryside. There were a couple of ramblers and a tweed-clad ornithologist clutching a pair of binoculars. Soon the platform was deserted.

Leonard watched the train depart the station and vanish into the darkness, enjoying the familiar odour of the smoke as it dissipated in the cold air. The final remnants were like reluctant wraiths. Silence settled abruptly, its suddenness disconcerting. The station was a cheerless place. Meagre bulbs of light emanated from a series of lamps hanging from the wrought-iron ornamentation stretching the length of the waiting area. He walked to the far end of the platform, his footsteps echoing in the space between the tracks. A guard stood beneath the iron walkway, sheltering from the damp air. Leonard approached him. “Good evening.”

“Evenin’, sir.”

“Might I trouble you to ask if there’s a public house nearby? I’m in need of a coachman to take me to Fen House.”

The guard fingered his moustache. Light sparkled on the brass buttons of his uniform. “There’s the Brush and Easel down that lane there, just on the crossroads.” He paused, sizing Leonard up for a moment.

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