Not a member?     Existing members login below:
Checkout our recommended Summer Reading in our new Book Lists here

The Dark Key

Suddenly, just as the six were about to pounce on the grey monk he turned around and
looked straight into Matthews’s eyes. His face was ghostly grey with black sockets where the
eyes should have been. Matthew felt tentacles of coldness reach down into his soul and
wrench ancient memory from his subconscious.
Then there was a flash of lightening, and the water in front of the stack suddenly erupted
showering the surrounding rocks with seaweed. Then from the sea there arose a shimmering
white column of light accompanied by an evil growling noise.
Matthew watched agog as the flailing figure of the grey monk suddenly went rigid when
surrounded by the other monks. Then they jumped into the column of light with another face
turning to look at him…a white face with blood red eyes.
After the monks disappeared down the column the whole thing collapsed into the sea and,
almost immediately, the wind began to drop, and the sea calmed down. The sun began to
flood through the clouds brightening patches of grass on the cliff top.
Matthew felt as though he was transfixed to the patch of grass he stood on. Although the air
temperature had risen he felt himself begin to shiver.
He surveyed the area, but realised there was no one else about to witness what he’d seen.
Everything was normal, that’s if there had ever been anything abnormal. Could it have been a
daydream or some kind of hallucination? He walked out to the edge of the stack and peered
down the cliff, nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the seagulls had returned and were
breaking the settling peace with their cries. Time to head home and re-evaluate his decision to
abstain from drinking, he mused.
The walk back along the cliff path was uneventful, which was just as well because
Matthew’s nerves were strained. He passed couples out walking their dogs. “Where were you
just a few minutes ago?” he said, quietly to himself.
Back inside his house, Matthew switched on the central heating even though it was still
sunny and warm outside. He then headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. He
found two cans of beer which he rescued from the cold. In the living room, he opened a tin
then sat down on his newspaper strewn settee and took a long slug of beer.
In his mind he went through the events of the day: bad weather blowing up from nowhere,
phantom monks at the cliffs; one of them looking at him, and giving him a very strange
feeling, and then the whole group disappearing down a column of light. Who was going to
believe him? He would be dismissed as delusional like those people who report seeing flying
saucers.
Matthew finished the can and felt a lot better. Then he decided to phone Jane and try to
patch things up with her, but he was put through to her answering machine, so he left a
message and hung up.
After supper and a shower he decided it was time for an early night as it was back to work
the following morning. In bed, he found it difficult to sleep; his mind kept going over the
events of the day and also the dream from the previous night.
Eventually, he fell asleep and dreamt of walking through a dark cave which seemed to wind
on forever. He thought for a moment he was being followed, but when he looked around there
was nothing there just darkness. He moved on, deeper and deeper into the cave, which
smelled of the sea.
A grey hand grabbed his shoulder, and he turned around with his heart racing. Behind him
hovered the grey-robed monk with its gaunt eyeless face. Matthew woke up with a start, he
was sweating and realised he was shaking. He jumped out of bed and looked around the room
– there was nothing there just his small amount of furniture.
He headed to the bathroom and drank some water then told himself to calm down, it was
just a nightmare. Then he returned to bed and slept restlessly for the remainder of the night.
The next morning he woke up and looked out of the window. The day was overcast and
cold looking, more like the autumn weather he was used to. After showering and dressing he
headed downstairs to grab some breakfast. The kitchen was cold; he had left the small hopper
window open.
He decided to skip breakfast mainly because there was nothing edible in the fridge except
for an old piece of pizza. He grabbed his jacket and made his way to the front door. Outside,
he was about to lock the door when he had to go back in and check to see if he had switched
Remove