Dark Holme Inner Circle

Charity wasn’t naive enough to think that she’d been the only one to think about exploring the mysterious island, but she was cynical enough to think it unusual that there would be others exploring at the same time. Only now did it occur to her that camping knives may not be enough should they run into trouble. Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Arlie.

With fumbling steps Charity pushed through the undergrowth to where Arlie waited. They had been further apart than she realised.

“Arlie, we need to stay together, don’t wander off.”

He gave her a look, “I didn’t, Chaz. It was you, you went blank for a moment, staring into the trees. You should have been looking here, see this section of wall?”

She was about to ball him out for calling her ‘Chaz’, but then she saw what he had found. With his own knife he had been hacking away trailing creepers that covered what looked like an outbuilding, probably an old storage building for the monastery, Charity assumed.

“These vines are not invasive, they hang from the top.” Arlie indicated with his knife point.

“So?”

Then he poked at another section further along, then she understood.

“Elsewhere they have grown through the mortar, and that is different too.”

For once, Charity was impressed with Arlie, and she have him an appraising look.

“You’re not just a six-pack are you, Arlie?”

“And this ain’t just a hat rack, Chaz.” He raised the cap off his head. “What do you make of this?”

Charity stepped up to the old masonry and peered at it. “So this part of the wall has been repaired, later than the rest of it?”

“Repaired recently too, at least comparatively. The stone is all the same, but this mortar here, on the old bit, is mostly mud and lime, old school. This section here, the newer bit, well, tell me what you think. Have a poke.”

“That’s really different, it’s tougher here, the old stuff is crumbling.”

“That new stuff,” Arlie grinned with his own glee, “that is cement. Modern cement. This was a quick job, and done in a hurry.”

“How modern is modern, Arlie?”

Now, Arlie looked crestfallen. “I couldn’t say, I’m not an expert, but probably sealed by the developers. We should call the others.”

“Absolutely, our first lead!”

Mia’s scream broke the silence. Before either Charity or Arlie could reach for their walkie-talkies, they could hear Mia crashing through the undergrowth. They ran towards the noise, and Mia, covered in scratches threw herself into their arms. Her tears had made streaks in the dirt on her face. Between her sobbing breaths she cried, “It’s Drew! He’s been attacked!”

@JB Wocoski

I actually did something a little different on Monday.

After work, we decided to head out because Mondays are usually nice and quiet around town—especially this week, with most places staying busy later for the England v Mexico match. It seemed like the perfect time to enjoy a peaceful drink.

Our local bartender has always joked that we're a bit different from the usual crowd at The Vault. At one point I laughed and said, "We just don't really like people... that's why we come out on a Monday!" He cracked up, finished his shift, then came back over and asked if he could join us.

What followed was one of those unexpectedly brilliant evenings. We spent hours chatting about horror films, punk and death metal music, serial killer books, and all sorts of wonderfully weird topics. It's always refreshing when you find someone who shares your interests, and the conversation just flows.

By the end of the night, I'd had an absolutely fantastic time. It was one of those random evenings that reminds you great conversations can happen when you least expect them.

Anyone else ever gone out expecting a quiet drink and ended up making a new friend over a shared love of horror or music? 🖤