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    Ghosts on the Moor
    Ghosts on the Moor
    Ghosts on the Moor
    Ebook65 pages39 minutes

    Ghosts on the Moor

    By Andy Conway

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Three women spend Christmas in a remote cottage on Dartmoor to escape problems at home, but their long hike across the moor turns tragic as old ghosts return for vengeance...

    A chilling new short story (40 pages, 10,000 words) from the author of the haunting timeslip saga, Touchstone.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAndy Conway
    Release dateDec 30, 2018
    ISBN9781386977537
    Ghosts on the Moor

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      Book preview

      Ghosts on the Moor - Andy Conway

      About This Book

      THREE WOMEN SPEND CHRISTMAS in a remote cottage on Dartmoor to escape problems at home, but their long hike across the moor turns tragic as old ghosts return for vengeance....

      Dedication

      To Lorna, Zoe and Sarah

      — 1 —

      ON THE LONG DRIVE DOWN, the cities had become towns and the towns become villages and civilisation had gradually thinned out until they could see they were plainly in what could be described as the wilds.

      Liz was happy to sit in the front passenger seat reading the maps and admiring Zara’s driving technique — a tiny redhead perched high on her seat steering her enormous Oriental blue Meriva. Liz had never been able to drive since a teenage car accident which had left her with a dead boyfriend and a desire to live for nothing but the moment.

      Sian was in the back, squeezed in next to a pile of luggage. They’d brought too many cases with them and more clothes than they would ever use, but they were going to the country to spend Christmas together and felt they might need to dress up as well as pack their hiking gear; an adventure to fill that dead week of Limbo their friends spent with families.

      They chattered all the way, about how it was going to be the best Christmas ever because they were so independent and free to make it whatever they wanted, until a shape on the horizon stilled them.

      Oh my god! said Zara. Is that—?

      Liz and Sian looked around, alarmed, and saw the cluster of brown standing stones against the leaden sky.

      Oh God, yes! shrieked Liz. Just ahead was a sharp right slip road where they could veer off and see it; the car head had already pulled into it.

      Shall we stop? said Sian.

      I don’t know, said Zara. She had eased her foot off the accelerator and they were cruising along.

      Liz felt herself wanting to say Do it! but hesitated, wondering if the others would want to carry on driving.

      They missed the moment and sailed on past the slip road, craning their necks to see it as it passed — smaller than they thought it would be, and a ring of people walking round it. It looked like they were engaged in a ceremony, like the ring around a maypole, but then they saw the fence around the monument, keeping people at a distance. They were merely strolling the perimeter.

      I had no idea we were anywhere near it, said Zara.

      Sian hit the Maps tab on her iPhone and waited for the giant blue dot to radiate their location. The land skimmed under it, sweeping across miles of country and there it was.

      Stonehenge.

      It is, she said. I’m getting it on my GPS.

      Well it’s not on the map I printed off, said Liz, defensively.

      She had been close to snapping for the last two hours as Sian had chattered on and on about her childhood holidays on the

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