Secrets of the Night - Original Writing

Secrets of the Night - Original Writing

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Secrets of the Night - Original Writing

The white mist glistened in the moons sparkly light and the tracks
rumbled as the old dark train sped nearer. As the rumbling became
louder the lights from the front of the train could be seen. The
blinding lights suddenly flashed past then there was a huge roar as it
rushed on through the tunnel and out the other side, then there was
total silence. There was not even a sign that the train had even been
past. The air was still for a long time with no sound apart from that
of an owl’s occasional hooting. But then a few minutes later there was
a sign of movement on the opposite side of the bank as somebody in a
black cloak scrambled up it. The bushes moved as they made their way
away from the track as fast as possible.

It wasn’t until a good hour later that Tom Duck stirred from his
hiding spot. All night he had been sitting there in the damp hoping
that he would get a glimpse of the mysterious person in black that the
village people knew so little yet talked so much about. But as in
their stories the mist came and he stood little chance of seeing the
figure but he remained there just in case it returned. As soon as it
was light enough he decided to make his way down the bank and inspect
the old and supposedly unused track. It took him a good fifteen
minutes to make his way down the steep sides trying not to slip but
when he reached the bottom he gave a great sigh of relief. He picked
his way along until he reached the tunnel mouth, being careful not to
trip on the uneven and uncared for sleepers that with many years of no
use were now rotting.

The tunnel mouth towered above him, its red brick looking like a huge
giant’s mouth with a bottomless hole in the middle. He stepped into
the dim light of the tunnel looking around him for any clues as he

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went. There was a flapping sound which startled him but when some
pigeons flew out he just kept on going, every now and again stumbling
on the uneven surface that he could hardly see because of the eerie
light. He passed man holes and dark passages in the walls, which
looked as if they were endless. He kept on going cautiously looking
down them in turn so that nothing could jump out and scare him. After
a few minutes of walking he saw a mysterious glimmer of light coming
from one of the holes a few metres ahead. He thought it looked like
moonlight and told himself that it was, as it was so white but all the
while at the back of his mind he knew that it couldn’t be as by now,
the top of the hill was along way above him.

As he neared the light he began to get suspicious. Instead of being
the moonlight he first thought it was it turned out to be of a red
colour. He just couldn’t understand it, he was so sure it had been
white but now it was red. Was it his imagination or had the light
changed and if it had, why? He decided he wanted to know where the
light was coming from. Before looking down the passage from which it
was shining he carefully looked around him to make sure no one was
watching. When he was quite sure that he was alone he turned back to
the passage and was about to start walking down it when suddenly he
heard a noise from above him which startled him. He waited a few more
minutes. When the noise didn’t occur again he decided that it was
probably just rats. He began making his way down the passage trying to
make out markings on the wall but the dim red light made it hard.

As he put his head up to look in front of him he saw what had made the
light go red and was struck with horror. The light had been white
underneath but now a red, blood like liquid had dripped down onto it
from the ceiling and had nearly engulfed the light. Slowly he raised
his head to look up at the ceiling to see where it had come from. Just
as he did a drop went down his back, it sent a shiver down his spine.
Getting nervous he quickly looked up to see bright red blood seeping
through the cracks in the ceiling. As soon as he saw this he heard the
noise again, it was as if someone was walking on the floor above him
and was about to come down the stairs that stood to his left.

As the movement above seemed to be nearing the stairs he turned and
ran back down the passage. As he reached the main tunnel he saw what,
this time, was definitely moon light. He gave a sigh of relief when he
reached the mouth of the tunnel as he knew he was nearly safe. He
continued to make his way along the track at a brisk pace as he wanted
to put as much distance between him and the tunnel as possible. Once
he arrived at the path which he had used to descend to the level of
the track he began to make his way up it in a hurry to reach the
comfort and safety of his home and a chance to put the night behind

He was awoken from his sleep by a loud knocking on his window. He
raised his sleepy head from his pillow hoping he might get a glimpse
of who had caused him to arouse from his deep and worry free sleep. A
few moments later he found himself pulling on his trousers from the
night before and his coat as he walked out the back door trying to
find the person who had knocked on his window. When no body was there
he returned to his warm kitchen and began to make himself some
breakfast. Just as he reached the pan which contained his boiled eggs,
there was another knock at the door, he panicked and dropped the pan
on the floor, the boiling water going over his feet. In a lot of pain
he hobbled as quickly as he could towards the door determined to see
who it was. As he flung the door open he saw the old shrivelled face
of Mrs McMahon, her piecing grey eyes staring at his. This unnerved
him and he shifted uneasily on his tender feet. Suddenly she pushed
her frail body past him and headed for the big arm chair by the fire.

Tom, still hobbling because of his painful feet made his way over the
fire and lent against the mantel piece returning the stare from the
grey eyes opposite him. Slowly Mrs McMahon raised herself from the
chair and understanding her hand jesters Tom took her place in the
chair. Tom shifted so he was comfortable when the wrinkled lips of Mrs
McMahon started to open. Her cold voice broke the silence that had
filled the cottage all night. Tom listened intently, as she warned him
never to go near the railway again. He was confused as to how Miss
McMahon knew about his encounter with the railway and began to get
curious. He had told no one what he had planned to do and he was sure
it had been just him and the dark figure present. Tom thanked Miss
McMahon for her advice and got up and walked towards the door so the
frail old lady knew it was time for her departure.

He kept his eyes on her as she slowly made her way across the field
that lay between Tom’s house and the village, leaving a trial in the
dew covered grass. As she disappeared out of sight he shoved his green
mud covered wellies on and pulled his wax coat, which was still damp
from the night before, over his shoulders and began to make his way
towards the village following the trail that lay across the grass. As
he reached the bottom of the field he noticed the trail changed
direction. Instead of going straight on to the village they went to
the left and through the woods. More curious then ever he decided to
continue following the track. He soon realised it wouldn’t be as easy
as he thought, once inside the woods the dew was no longer there and
neither were the tracks.

He was about to turn and go home when he saw a dark figure hobbling
across the clearing in front of him. Recognising the walk at once to
be that of Miss McMahon he continued to follow, increasing his pace so
that she was always in sight. Every so often she would stop and make a
90º turn then continue. It wasn’t long until they came out of the
woods and then the red mouth that belonged to the tunnel could be
seen. As the figure faded into the darkness of the tunnel Tom stopped
to think, if it was Miss McMahon that he was following then why was
she now in the tunnel when less than an hour ago she had warned Tom
about how dangerous it was. He decided to keep following as he was now
intrigued as to why Miss McMahon was down there. He followed the light
that he could see ahead of him. He kept tripping on the sleepers as
this time he had no torch himself and his eyes were fixed on the
figure ahead of him as he was determined not to lose sight of Miss
McMahon. It wasn’t long until he saw the figure disappear down the
same passage he had been down the previous night. He hung back round
the corner until he was sure that Miss McMahon had gone up the stairs.

As he turned the corner into the dim passage which still had a red
glow. As he looked forward he saw that the light was still covered in
the red liquid but unlike the night before it was dry and of a dark
red colour. He put his first foot on the bottom step, listening
carefully to any noise. When he was certain he could hear no signs of
movement above him he began to ascend up the stairs being careful to
look around him as he went. As he put his foot firmly on the last
stair he gasped. Straight ahead of him there was a light. It was
flickering on and off so it didn’t give of much light but the light it
did give off showed something that had shocked Tom. He stood there
stunned by the sight that lay in front of his eyes the eerie sound of
ropes squeaking as they swung gently in the breeze, ringing in his
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