The Spectre of Lid Lane.

The night was mild, breezy and damp. Pools of water lying in potholes on the lane reflected the torchlight into the trees and hedgerows, where their images flitted uncertainly around the bare branches like lost ghosts. I’ve always found the sight a little eerie, but it was nothing compared with what tonight’s perambulation had in store.

I’ve mentioned before that there’s a small wood bordering the lane a little way down from my house, and in the wood is a grave which is close to its boundary with the road. I walk past it every night, and every night is uneventful. Until this night.

As I passed the spot, I heard a muffled thump. It spooked me a bit because it didn’t sound like any sort of a thump that has a natural cause. It sounded like somebody had dropped something, or maybe stepped on something that had moved or fallen over. I shone the torch in that direction. Nothing, as expected, so I continued on my way.

Nevertheless, I didn’t feel settled and content in the belief that I was alone. I turned and shone the torch back along the lane. Nothing, as before, so I walked on.

I repeated the exercise twice more, still feeling a sense that the dark, impassive trees were hiding something. I was wrong, of course; there was only darkness, a host of impassive trees, and a potholed tarmac road in my wake. Once more would satisfy me, so once more I turned and shone the torch.

I had no time to react. The figure that came running at unnatural speed towards me was as close as it was terrifying. A misty white something, roughly the size and shape of a person, but not clear enough to have me fear the assault of a human attacker. This thing wasn’t human; that much was certain, instantly. The edges of this spectre shimmered and flapped like the tattered remains of old fabric.  I hardly had time to draw a breath of panic before it was on me. I think I closed my eyes just before I felt the thrill of jagged, icy coldness shudder through my frame. And yet there I stood, eyes wide open, staring at a dark and empty road in both directions.

*  *  *

It’s ages since I wrote anything spooky, so I thought I’d have a go, just to see whether I could still do it. Only the muffled thump actually happened. Did it have you going for a second? I hope so, though I doubt it.

What I actually saw tonight were the latest additions to the Shire Christmas lights display. There was a Christmas tree outside the pub with winking lights, and Mr C’s customary attempt to compete with the Blackpool illuminations. Interestingly enough, Mr C’s land is almost opposite the cottage where the man who is now buried in the wood used to live.

And the smaller tree branches in Mill Lane waved to me in the wind, and the air whispered loudly in that language which only the animals and the little folk understand.