The Whisper Of A Laugh

* A Supernatural story *

Chapter 1

Let the chill on your bones amplify, and the soul in your skin shudder at the whisper of a laugh
~ Book of the Darkly Fel

I had always wanted to walk through Britain but work had been a dream killer not least because I aided and abetted the one bane of my life.  It was the one time I could say quite amusingly that I was both a victim and a suspect, though I had only myself to laugh with.  I mean there was mum, but she found more humour in knitting satchels for ***** cats or collecting snails in jars layered with waffles.  After seeing that I had her house breathalysed to gage the incense levels were still acceptable, and not laced with anything illegal.  She came out unscathed but promised not to talk to me again until I had lost 3 stones and put on some humility.  I sniggered and brushed her terms off in typical fashion because I was cold, hard, modern woman, without a care for anything other than the caviar of life. 

While people had beans on toast, I had expensive fish eggs on mine, but it wasn’t too last.  I called my mother, Amblyn, to say “sorry” or similar, and maybe ask if she could knit me some socks for winter, but she never picked up the phone.  I could imagine her sitting there right by the phone, knitting away obliviously as the phone rang.  She was very good at ignoring people just like I was very good at being disliked.

I decided to think about getting off my couch after sitting at home without a job for several months.  There had to be more to life than fizzy drinks and packets of crisps.

I met Johnathan online.  He was a keen rambler of English countryside and we soon became good friends, though I hasten to add, I had no idea how exactly how.  I liked walking up hills so we went to a place where there were many fels.  On one of them the weather had taken a turn for the worse so we took refuge in small cave.

“You had a dream about holes Anna?” He asked.

“I see a hole in the ground and then I fall in, no matter how I try to navigate around it, it catches me.  Sometime the hole is above me.  In these dreams, its a vacuum and it pulls me in.”

“Want to hear something creepy?”

“You are always trying to freak me out and you always fail.” She laughed.

“Are you done laughing?” He asked.

“I’m sorry John.  Go on.”

“My mother was  a medium who used to speak to the dead.  In the days leading up to her passing, she kept complaining about a laughing whisper.  I just told her it was the wind, but she insisted I keep the door open and the candles burning.  Anyway, on the day she passed, I had the opportunity to enjoy one last conversation with her.  It was disappointing though, not least because she was telling me that the one who was laughing quietly at her these last few days was not a spirit but something else.”

“Okay thats a good one.  A clairvoyant is haunted by a ghost but she thinks its actually someone playing a sick prank on her … “

“Well, her words were ‘not  spirit’ which only singles out spirits.”

“Thats not the whole of it.  She said the voice claimed it was going to cut her throat when she wasn’t looking.”

“So, it’s a really sick prank.”

“I did want to believe that.”

“Okay so what made you not believe it?”

“My mother lived alone in a prepaid flat.  So, no landlord or any human life could enter her apartment unless they wanted to steal something.  My mother never trusted anyone, so never opened the door to anyone.  Even me.  She had a secret knock though which she taught me as a child.  If I wanted to see her, I had to apply the secret knock.  No matter how lightly I rapped on the door she opened it.”

“How did the secret knock go?”

“I can’t say.  Me and my mother believe in time travel you see.”

“Ha, so you think I could have come from the future to find out what the secret knock was, so I could go back to the days she died and play a sick joke on her?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He laughed.

We stretched that joke as far as we could before pouring out some tea from our flasks to help with our dry mouths.  Joking aside, John was very much flexible about all the possible and implausible angles that could point towards explaining the last days of his mothers life; even time trouble.  If I could convince him I wasn’t H.G Wells in disguise maybe he would tell me about the stupid secret knock.

“There is a manor up on one fel.” He explained.

“Okay.  Do you have the keys?”


“Any secret knocks?”

“HaHa very funny.”

[End of chapter]

zombiii zombiii
31-35, M
Jan 6, 2013