33 - Roadkill

It’s a section of road that’s lethal to the local wildlife. Not the sort of place where you’d want to find yourself stranded, and alone.

Welcome to season 4 of this ghost story podcast, and prepare yourself for a chilling walk into the woods… Our first new supernatural case may be modern in terms of its setting, but its themes go back generations. History has a habit of repeating itself. And it can be frightening to consider what the future might have in store for you.

You can find the Occultaria of Albian at https://linktr.ee/occultariaofalbion

Patrons help to keep this English gothic podcast going. If you'd like to become one, just visit https://www.patreon.com/newghoststories

Find more ghost story content on my Substack - https://newghoststories.substack.com/

Tags: Gothic, Horror, Paranormal, Nightmare, Terror, Terrifying, Chiller, Forest, Weird, Folk Horror.

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
The story you're about to hear wastold to me in the strictest of confidence.
Certain names, dates, and locationshave been changed to protect that confidence.
Events that feature in this story maybe part of the public record.
If you believe you recognize any ofthe people, places, or events that
appear in this story, ask younot to reveal any information publicly out of
respect for the subject's right to remainanonymous. My name is David Paul Nixon

(00:44):
and this is the New Ghost Storiespodcast where we delve into the New Ghost
Stories archive to hear new and classiccases of the supernatural stories that could be
delusions, lies, fantasies, orperhaps even the real thing. Just don't
make your mind up until you've listened. Hello, and welcome back to the

(01:14):
podcast. It's hard for us notto think of ourselves as the heroes of
our own stories, whether it's thegreat narrative arc of life or just the
latest challenge along the way. Wetend to put ourselves at the center and
see ourselves as justified and righteous inour actions. The struggles we face,

(01:36):
the people who stand in our way, it's they who need to be brought
around, persuaded, perhaps defeated.We are right and they are wrong.
And if we err along the waymake mistakes, well it probably wasn't really
our fault, or we had agood cause. Perhaps it's all part of
our understandable learning curve, one thatwill ultimately lead to our greater awakening.

(02:02):
We are heroes, but with mitigatingcircumstances too, and we cannot abide the
idea that we might be the villains. Nothing bad that we did we did
on purpose. We were in someways right all along, and at least
we weren't as bad as them andwhat they did. Our sense of self,

(02:24):
our need to see ourselves as fundamentallygood, tends to overrule uncomfortable facts,
you know. One of the contributingfactors I think to today's culture wars
is the phenomena of people who areonce known for their heroic successes, pushing

(02:44):
the boundaries of culture, supporting theright causes, winning awards, suddenly finding
themselves on the wrong side of acultural shift, a shift which we cast
them not as someone who does good, but instead as someone who is part
of the problem. They go frombeing a figure with a reputation that grants

(03:06):
them praise and respect to someone whois problematic whose work and contribution now comes
with caveats and small print and challengingquestions, and that can be hard to
take. To see the image theyhave of themselves, the one they hold
personally and the one they show publicly, be criticized and undermined. So there

(03:31):
must be pushback, a counter response. I am not the villain. It's
these other people, these culture warriors. They are wrong my values. They
must be defended, and a damningverdict must be cast on these new ones,
these young people. What do theyknow about the world. And it

(03:52):
is of course easier to demand changewhen you're young, when you have so
much more to gain and less togive up. When you get older,
it's more difficult. It's harder tolet go of the things you hold dear,
that made you who you are andthat keep you comfortable. We all
like to think we're people of greatprinciples and high ideals, Alas it's a

(04:15):
lot more circumstantial than that. Notalways heroically, we usually put our own
needs. First. Season four ofthe podcast starts out in the country,
but I know this story of decline, regeneration and gentrification will strike a chord
with urban dwellers too. The greatnarrative arc of life feels a lot different

(04:42):
when you're on the way up,but no one knows when it will start
to trend irrevocably, unheroically down.Better hope you have a soft landing ready.
This is New Ghost Story's case numbertwo hundred and sixty six and it's
called row Kill and you can hearit in full, uninterrupted after these messages.

(05:13):
If you are listening to this message, then the subliminal frequency has successfully
calibrated to your mind. Do notbe alarmed. I am here to advise
you to explore the Occulteria of Albion. The Occulteria of Albion is both a
written series as well as a podcast. It explores various locations where paranormal and

(05:36):
supernatural events have occurred. It isa broadcast on a forgotten frequency. Hauntings,
time slips, cryptids, cults andmore are investigated and examined. Enter
a world designed by Torch and Moonlightto Oqula of Albion dot co dot UK

(06:00):
your search Occutera of Albion wherever youfind your favorite podcasts and transmission. It
had been a fraught morning, butthe committee was now decided it had not
been easy. There had been twocourses of action put forward. That we
should write to mister Carmichael for athird and final time, effectively giving him

(06:24):
a final warning to address the issueof his untended garden, or two take
immediate action to address his failure toaddress the issue, or contact the committee
and report him directly to the council'sEnvironmental health department. The committee was split
down the middle, and I foundmyself in the uncomfortable position of being the

(06:46):
deciding vote. Taking into account allperspectives, I decided on the more cautious
route, although I accepted that misterCarmichael had expressed no intention to take action
and that we might only be delayingthe inevitable. However, I felt that
the Village Preservation Committee should not appearto be an aggressor, and that mister
Carmichael must be allowed ample time todecide on a course of action. I

(07:12):
was also concerned that involving environmental healthmight be a wasted endeavor anyway. In
the countryside, a preponderance of weedscould hardly be cited as unusual, and
we had no evidence of rodent infestation. Even knowing that the Senior Inspector was
the chairman's wife's cousin was no guaranteeof success. Better to encourage mister Carmichael

(07:32):
to act on his own and avoidany unnecessary escalation. I was already starting
to worry that local politics was exactlythe sort of thing I'd try to get
away from when I resigned from theuniversity. To placate the dissatisfied members of
the committee, I suggested we placea timeline for mister Carmichael to take action.

(07:55):
I proposed six weeks, which,after a vote was cut down to
four, the form of penance.I agreed to draft the letter and to
present it to the committee for approvalvia email before sending via recorded delivery.
With the deadlock resolved, the meetingdisbanded and I set off her home,
hoping for a calm and peaceful evening. On arriving, however, I knew

(08:18):
this was not to be. Martinique'scar was parked to skew, not in
the usual position at all. Somethingmust be wrong. On entering our kitchen,
I was surprised to see that shehad been crying. She is not
a sensitive creature at all. Throughoutour years of marriage, I had seen
her shed tears and only a handfulof occasions. I asked her what the

(08:41):
matter was, and she cried out, I didn't he even see him?
He then right out into the road. She walked me out to her car
and opened up the boot. Oneof our dog's blankets had been wrapped around
the deceased. She pulled the topback to reveal the unfortunate boy body,
a small ginger Tom. Martinique hasa very continental lattitude towards animals, none

(09:07):
of the silly English timidity towards controversialcuisine like foi gras or horse meat.
But this was a family pet,and we have two dogs ourselves. She
was very upset and could barely bringherself to look at him. I didn't
think him a very attractive sight either. His body was crushed, his face

(09:30):
contorted into a howling grimace. Theways to travel to our country cottage are
not numerous. There are just afew winding, isolated country roads that you
can use. There was during herdrive through what we call the pass road
that this ginger Tom had inexplicably dartedin front of her. With no time

(09:52):
to break or swerve, The poorthing had gone straight under the driver's side
wheel. He was most likely killedinstantly, or at least that's what we
hoped. Martinique wanted to bury thepoor thing, but I spotted what she
and her distress had missed, asmall capsule hanging from his collar. I

(10:13):
unscrewed the cap and retrieved a smallslip of paper. It included a name
and telephone number. The deceased hadbeen called Toby. I volunteered to make
the call to the owners. Myupdate on committee matters could wait. Martinique,
still upset, was more likely tocome off as cold and defensive.

(10:33):
She does not like to exhibit vulnerabilityto strangers. The owners were the Lewises.
I phoned them immediately. Better tonip these things in the bud.
Turned out that Toby had already beenmissing for some time. Oh wow,
said missus Lewis. We only justput the posters up this afternoon. Have

(10:54):
you found him? That little rayof hope made the revelation to come even
more difficult. I regret to informyou, Missus Lewis, that your cat
Toby has sadly died. He ranout in front of my wife's car.
I am so terribly sorry. Theline went quiet. I listened patiently to

(11:16):
the commotion in the background. MissusLewis was very upset. It was understandable.
The next voice, I assumed,was mister Lewis, are you sure
what happened? We got your numberfrom the capsule on Toby's collar. We
never even saw the posters. Butwhy would he run out into the road.
He's an eight year old Tommy knowsbetter than that. I can't explain

(11:39):
it. It was also quick.We are so terribly sorry. Where is
he? You didn't leave him outthere, did you? It seemed like
he was looking for an opportunity tolash out. No, no, we
brought him back to our house.We thought we must contact the owners and
let them know. If you like, you can come and collect him,
or we can bury him in thegarden. It is really up to you.

(12:03):
The line was quiet again for aminute or two. Mister Lewis came
back on and said that they wouldcome over. They wanted to be sure
it was really Toby. I gavethem our address. It would be at
least an hour before they arrived,guaranteeing a late supper. It just didn't
seem appropriate to be caught cooking whenthey came to claim the body. I

(12:24):
poured myself a large glass of wineand applied some hummus to some nearly stale
Peter bread. It was looking tobe a very grim evening. While I
waited, I checked again with Martiniquethat it was the pass road she had
taken to the house. I callit the pass road because it goes right
through the hills rather than taking youaround them. It's quite a pleasant drive,

(12:46):
particularly this time of year, withthe colors of spring coming into full
growth. But it's not the placeone would wish to find one's self alone.
There is no phone signal, andthe road is quite narrow. While
most drivers are sile, some seemto get used to having the road to
themselves. They pick up speed andslam on the brakes when they find someone

(13:07):
else coming the other way. It'sa road that can go from being very
tranquil to not very tranquil, verysuddenly. The reason I was dwelling on
this road is that I recalled havingan accident there just a week or so
earlier. I'd been driving home,and before I could act, I found
that I'd driven over a badger.It had shot right out in front of

(13:31):
me. At least I think itwas a badger and didn't actually stop to
check. A badger seemed to betoo sensible an animal to be carelessly throwing
themselves in front of traffic, especiallyduring the daytime, though mostly nocturnal.
Of course, I have seen badgersdead by the roadside before, but it's
usually rabbits or hedgehogs or pheasants.What was it about this particular road that

(13:56):
made it so lethal to the localwildlife? Explain to Martinique the strange coincidence
in the hope that it might lessenthe sense of guilt she was feeling.
This was clearly a section of roadwhere collision with the wildlife was common,
unless it seemed to offer her nocomfort. It is a pleasantly scenic route.

(14:16):
The road curves around a high cliffface. Its steep, jagged rock
all the way up. You rarelyeven see goats trying to scale it.
You can't even consider taking the roadduring high winds, just in case.
Opposite the cliff, for some lessforbidding hill was not so steep and much
soft ascent. This space that existsbetween the cliff and the hillside is an

(14:41):
intriguing area, a sort of largehollow or small valley that's filled with tall,
densely packed trees. With the leavesout again, it's almost impossible to
even see a few yards ahead intothis little forest. I've never seen a
soul walking through there. It's aworld exclusively owned by nature. Beautiful,

(15:05):
if somewhat forbidding. The Lewises madeit over in a fairly brisk fifteen minutes.
They were a slightly younger couple thanI expected, not too many years
off middle age. Missus Lewis.Tammy was a small mousey creature. She
kept chewing on the sleeve of hercardigan. Mister Lewis Christopher was not as

(15:26):
hostile as he was on the phone. He was here to support his partner.
Now. Martinique had made herself scarce. Perhaps she hadn't heard the doorbell.
It had not seemed appropriate to keepToby in the car boot. I
had taken him into the garage andplaced him on my work bench. It
seemed as good a place as anyto reveal the body. Husband and wife

(15:48):
glanced at each other as I preparedto lift the blanket. Christopher held his
wife close and gave me the nod. I unveiled the deceased Tammy bare her
head in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. It was indeed their poor furry friend.
I asked how long they had hadhim, since he was a kit,

(16:10):
In eight years something like that,he said. His mother was with
us before that. I went tofetch some water and tissues. I found
Martinique with them when I got back, offering her explanation and apologies. Tammy
told her that Toby had grown uparound roads. They, like us,
had only come recently to the county. It made no sense to them that

(16:33):
he would run out in front ofa car, but perhaps they'd let him
out too soon. That Toby hadroams so far away was odd. Perhaps
he had strayed too far and thenpanicked, saw the car lights and ran
desperately towards them. Martinique showed Tammythe way to the bathroom. Christopher picked
up the body and we walked outto the garage into the driveway. After

(16:56):
placing it in the boot of hisestate car, he said something to me
which I thought quite extraordinary. Insome ways, it's a relief to find
him like this, he said,in a nervous tone. In my mind,
I'd imagine something much worse happening tohim. I asked what he meant.

(17:17):
He told me that he feared thelocals had kidnapped him and had done
something unpleasant out of retribution. Retribution, are you serious? Sounds extreme,
I know, but the way someof the folks look at you round here,
I haven't experienced any problems. Maybeit's different out here, but there
are some real nasty types in town. He explained that he was talking about

(17:41):
a small faction of the populace,mostly elderly, mostly white, and male,
a group that did not like thechanging dynamics of the area. You'd
think they'd be happy the amount ofmoney were bringing into the economy. But
why would you think they'd harm yourcat? I asked. When we first
came here, we went to thewrong pub, you know, the type

(18:03):
where they go quiet when you goin and stare at you while your order
your drinks. One of them cameover and asked what we thought we were
doing there. He asked if wefelt like we owned the place that his
ancestors had cared for, where they'dwork the land for generations. This guy
was fat as a bus. Hecan't have worked a solid day for twenty

(18:23):
years, he said, we didn'tbelong here, We'd never belong here.
I couldn't believe it, he said. One day there'd be another reckoning we
had to leave. It was reallyuncomfortable, really nasty. He went on
to tell of his horror to findthat one of this crowd lived just a
few doors down from him. Theman would park his car deliberately in front

(18:47):
of their house, causing them topark further down the road. The man
refused to look at them or talkto them when they passed in the street,
to the point where he would eventry to force them off the pavement
rather than move an inch out ofhis way. When the cat went missing,
I had nightmares they'd done something horribleout of malice. Christopher went on,
It's probably paranoia, but I seethese types everywhere. Now given us

(19:12):
the evil eye, I must admitthat we have a troublesome few over here
in the village, and proceeded totell him of the problems with mister Carmichael
and his neglected garden. You see, isn't that just the problem some people?
They'd rather just sit on their backsidesand do nothing and then just complain

(19:32):
when everything doesn't go their way.I was about to say that I actually
knew very little about mister Carmichael.When Martinique ca reappeared with Tammy. As
they stepped through the front door,Christopher put his finger to his lips and
we said nothing more of the greatclash of cultures. Tammy looked much better

(19:52):
from her chance to freshen up andapologized for the crying, which I said
was perfectly understandable considering the situation.Christopher said they had offered a reward for
information on the loss posters. Theywanted us to have it, but I
absolutely refused it. I suggested thatif he wanted to give money, he
should do so to a local charity. A pet rescue would be appropriate.

(20:15):
After they had gone, Martinique andI returned to the kitchen and shared some
more wine. I started to tellher about Christopher's paranoia. Thinking about it,
I actually started to find the wholeidea rather amusing. A band of
old Ruffians at war against the modernsad bedraggled but righteous in their own way.

(20:37):
It was rather like an ealing comedy. Martinique was not particularly amused.
She said it was not unusual forpeople long established to dislike newcomers, especially
older generations who would obviously feel threatenedby change. She had had some funny
looks in town herself, but thatwas probably because of her accent. Some
confused her for being Polish, ofwhom had arrived in the area for building

(21:02):
jobs and other manual positions. Shefinally asked about events at the committee meeting,
Explain my dilemma regarding mister Carmichael andhow I finally made my decision.
She suddenly recovered her sense of humorand started laughing, So you have done
nothing. No, we are goingto write to him and encourage Nothing has

(21:23):
changed, she said. It's thesame always with you, your committees and
your resolutions, and nothing gets done. We have to have a process.
We can't just march over there withpitchforks, and yet you'll find reasons to
do nassing instead. We're not doingnothing. We are taking principled, methodical

(21:45):
action. You are avoiding action youalways do. I have started drafting the
letter already. Look, I showedher the note side scribbled during the wait
for the Lewises words always words.It will mean nassing in the end.
Well, we shall see about that, won't we. No, I expect
that we won't. I spent therest of the evening in the conservatory.

(22:07):
I found her attitude most frustrating.It's as if she believes belligerents and bad
temper will solve everything. But youcan't solve problems by being a blunt instrument.
That isn't how the world works.It's all a bureaucracy with processes.
Whether she likes it or not,she thought competing for Britain's best kept village
was petty English folly anyway, ratherthan noble cause. To promote community and

(22:33):
pride. Not to mention local culture. Heritage is very important. Though I
ruminated on it a little, Iwill admit that I didn't take Christopher's story
of malign local forces very seriously.I saw this fraught encounter with difficult neighbors,
just as I saw the issue withmister Carmichael, a few bad apples

(22:55):
that exist at the edges of everysociety. A nuisance, yes, but
hardly a serious problem. I wasto discover, however, that these malign
forces were more common than I supposed, although my first exposure to them was
rather slight. I drove into towna few days later to collect my post

(23:15):
a delivery of new papers. Ihad requested. Besides village preservation, I
had chosen a research project to keepmyself busy in retirement. I was revisiting
the world of the great postwar architects, their strengths and weaknesses, their legacy,
both good and bad. I wasn'tsure what form the project would take
at this stage. It had thepotential to be a strong, engaging piece

(23:38):
of nonfiction, but I had alsobegun to develop a related fiction which also
had interesting possibilities. I was yetto make a firm decision on the matter.
I settled myself down at a localcoffee shop to review the documents,
allowing myself two hours to review,and then a further hour on top of
that to complete my third draft ofthe letter to mister Carmichael. Checking I

(24:00):
crossed all the te's and dotted allthe eyes. I emailed it to the
committee for final review. With thistask complete, I drove over to the
local waitros to complete the weekly shop. While parking, I spotted our young
gardener Max. He's a good chap. Max. He's very hard working and
has his own business at the tenderage of twenty five, surprisingly enterprising for

(24:22):
his generation. I shouted alone andwaved to him, but rather than respond,
he turned his head away and pretendednot to see me. I found
myself a little offended. His rejectionwas quite explicit. He had seen me
and almost certainly heard me, butdeliberately he had not acknowledged me. He

(24:44):
wasn't in his teens, he hadno reason to protect his image from being
seen with an Aldie like me.He did appear to be with someone,
but they looked even older than me. It's hard to excuse deliberate rudeness.
Martinique is bad enough. I knewI would have to bring it up with
him. He came to our housetwo days later to continue work on our

(25:04):
rockery. He was visibly annoyed whenhe arrived. He had apparently hit a
fox on the way, and ithad cracked one of his head lights.
I relayed the story of Martinique's accidentas conversation, musing briefly about the bizarre
fatality rate on this particular stretch ofroad. He brought up the incident in

(25:26):
the car park unprompted. Yeah,I'm sorry, I Blanche. I was
with my uncle and he gets abit funny about me working for yuppies.
Yuppies you know it is. Hedoesn't like out of town as much,
gets on his goat. I wasn'tsure that was the phrase, but I
let it pass. But what havewe done? Oh, they're all the
same, that generation. They don'tlike immigrants and townies. I'm as English

(25:51):
as brown ale. Yeah, butye from somewhere else. First it was
the Polish. Now it's the Londoners. I mean, we never had anything
like Waitrose here before. It's justa supermarket. Used to be the meat
market a long time ago. Lotsof these guys used to be farmers or
workers in the mines or factories outof town. Now they can't make a

(26:11):
living. They see a bunch ofrich people come in and start buying up
the place. They don't like.It feels like the town's been taken away
from them. I rather thought hikersand campers were the people who are bringing
in the money. Now I don'tthink they're getting anything out of it.
My uncle's pissed most of the dayanyway, keeps going on about there being
a new reckoning. I don't payhim much attention. He hasn't got into

(26:33):
a fight in weeks, but Ididn't want to tell him I was working
for you, I'd never hear theend of it. I didn't much like
being called a yuppie. I hadmarched for the miners back in my day,
voted against Stature in the establishment mywhole life only voted for Blair the
once or was it twice? Ihadn't taken the story of the old rebels

(26:56):
very seriously, But suddenly I hadthe young, comfortable feeling of being on
the wrong side of a political conundrum. To be called the yuppie, I
felt like a crossed party lines withoutrealizing it. Was I a gentrifier?
Was I now the arrogant rich tellingsalt of the earth working class folk to

(27:17):
get out of my way to domy bidding, disrespecting their ancestry, the
craftsmanship they once practiced. Was Iprofiting from their downfall? Did it matter
what side you were on politically ifyou still ultimately profited from the same capitalist
cultural thuggery. Had I now becomepart of a movement that claimed the hills

(27:41):
and the lakes for the chattering classesand left those who once worked the land
with nothing except our indifference, perhapscontempt. It was an uncomfortable thought.
Later that same afternoon, the phonerang it was Christopher in place of the
reward. He wanted to know soif he and Tammy could take me and
Martinique out for dinner one evening.Unable to come up with an excuse to

(28:06):
back out, I'd found myself acceptingthe invitation. A few nights later,
I joined them for an early dinnerat a restaurant of their recommendation. This
was the Royal Oakre Town Center gastropubthat was recently refurbished and well reviewed online.
I regretted accepting the invitation almost immediately, having become politically self conscious.

(28:26):
I had the unnerving sense of sittingdown with the enemy with his polo shirt,
boat shoes and chinos. Christopher lookedevery bit the camera and conservative a
sense it was going to be along evening. Martinique had decided not to
join us at the last minute,as she had a migraine. It has
long been my suspicion that she hasthese attacks when it absolutely suits her.

(28:52):
Perhaps she was one step ahead ofme again. Tammy was much more animated
on this occasion, having recovered fromthe shoka before. Unfortunately, she did
not get to speak a great deal. Christopherd did practically all the talking for
her. He started to tell mehow they had been city dwellers, but
they wanted to start a family andfind a better work life balance. He

(29:14):
amounted to find a job running marketingat a local brewery, and they had
decided to bite the bullet and leavetheir city life behind. Tammy was in
childcare but had yet to find worklocally. I got the impression she was
not entirely happy with how things wereworking out as replaced our order. Christopher
was going on about country versus cityliving when something mercifully stopped him in his

(29:37):
tracks. He suddenly looked sharply atsome one across the room. Following his
eye line, I saw a largeold gentleman marching unsteadily towards us. He
was overweight and somewhat disheveled. Hewore a ratty cable knit jumper and dirty
supermarket denim. His hair couldn't decideif it was cur or straight, and

(30:00):
he had a spectacularly bushy beard,the type that could be home to all
kinds of as yet unknown species.The old man approached Christopher with pointing finger
outstretched. Boy, you your carsin my space. Christopher rose to meet
the threat, claiming it's not yourspace, it's our space. It's right

(30:23):
outside our house. The pointing fingerbecame a prodding finger. Twenty years.
I lived there more than that decades. Christopher swatted it away. It's not
even close to your house. It'smy space, your sod. He tried
to grab Christopher, causing some gaspsin the restaurant area. A few people

(30:44):
got to their feet as if torush to defend him. It was,
however, all over rather quickly.Christopher simply stepped back, causing the old
codger to lose balance and fall betweenour table and the one next to it.
He just about managed to grab holdof one to prevent a fall to
the floor. You people, hehowled to the carpet. You think you
can come over here and take overeverything, don't you what's going on over

(31:08):
here? The landlord had been alerted. Sorry about this, he said to
us. Don't you apologize for me? Said the bearded man, trying to
right himself. It's all right,Frank, said a tall slender man,
arriving on the scene and addressing thedrunk No, cried Frank, No,
it's not all right. What's leftfor us? What's left? I'm not

(31:30):
moving that car. Christopher insisted thatspace is right outside my house. Oh
your house, your house. Frankturned back to Christopher and looked to be
making another attempt to grab him.His friend put his hand on his shoulders,
holding him back and saying, easy, now, Frank, take him
somewhere else, said the landlord.You bloody traitor, one of them.

(31:53):
Aren't you Come on now? Franksaid his friend. We're not wanted here.
Look at this. What kind offood is this? Vegan? Gluten
bollocks? Goodbye, Frank, saidthe landlord. Frank's friend tried to guide
him along, but he shook himselffree. He shouted something unintelligible and marched

(32:14):
out on his own steam, screaminginto the street as he exited. I'm
so sorry about that, said thelandlord. I didn't see him come in
hardly your fault, I said,what an utter asshole, said Christopher.
Can I get you all a drinkround on me to make up for it?
I was extremely tempted to order somethingstrong, but as I was driving,

(32:37):
I had to decline there was reallynothing I could do to make the
evening go faster. It's a sad, unfortunate rule of men that any small
altercation, no matter how trifling andinsignificant, must become epic in the retelling,
a retelling that must take place inthe instant afterward, and then continue

(32:58):
for multiple retelling, as if itwere some great conflict for the ages.
Naturally, Christopher was just this closeto giving him a real scene to but
of course he wouldn't want to hitan old man because he'd probably knock him
out, and so on. Ilet Christopher rant and complain uninhibited, although
I drew the line when he saidwhat was going on in town was like

(33:21):
a kind of racism, as itwas clearly nothing of the kind. They
ought to be grateful to us.Think where this place would be if it
wasn't for people like us. Perhapsnot everyone gets something out of it,
I said, why not? Plentyof jobs around if you want to do
them. I could sit around drinkingall day if I wanted to, But

(33:42):
I get up and I go towork. I wanted to explain that it
wasn't always easy for people to movefrom one skill set to another, especially
when a particular occupation was tied intoa long rooted culture and community lifestyle.
There may well be other jobs ofavailor but there were few equivalent jobs.
Today's common vocations were without tradition orheritage. These were largely lost, and

(34:07):
new opportunities failed to offer the samequality of living or level of opportunity.
And of course, age is alsoa barrier to learning new skills and a
detracting factor for employers. Sadly Ididn't get to say any of that.
Christopher suddenly decided he had to runback home and make sure that the old
bastard hadn't decided to do something totheir car and revenge for parking in his

(34:30):
space. Tammy warned that he wouldn'tbe back in time for the food,
but he went anyway. We wereforced to wait once at a ride for
his return. Tammy said I couldstart, but as she was going to
wait, I did so too,in solidarity. With no one to talk
over her. Tammy told me shetried to talk him out of parking there.

(34:51):
Their alternative was only really a fewspaces down, but Christopher was determined
they had every right to their space. He said there was a principal at
stake. I always thought principles shouldbe something a bit loftier and more ambitious.
He did finally return a false alarm. When we were eventually able to
eat, I then quickly discovered thatthe online reviews had been rather too generous.

(35:19):
I declined the offer of dessert andleft as soon as the bill was
paid. If it seemed a bitrude, I didn't mind. I had
no inclination toward ever having dinner withthem again. As I exited the pub,
I saw across the road a smallgroup of men, middle aged up
to old age. They were staredhuddled together, and I just happened to

(35:39):
catch the eye of one of thegroup. Upon seeing me, he turned
to his colleagues, spoke something tothem, and the whole group proceeded to
walk away together, a few stealingglances at me as they went. It
was as if I'd caught them insome kind of conspiracy. It was extremely

(35:59):
old and deeply stirred a sense ofparanoia in me, even though I recognized
that it was probably nothing to dowith me. What had happened in the
pub had struck me as petty andridiculous, But still I was starting to
get the feeling that it was justthe tip of the iceberg. Like Christopher
had said, he was seeing thesetypes everywhere. Now this was not what

(36:23):
I had expected from my retirement.As I drove back home, I started
to ask myself what I had reallybeen expecting. Local discontent was no stranger
to any town or village, whetherit was between families, neighbors, or
the generations, or simply within localpolitics. But I had taken early retirement

(36:44):
to take myself out of conflict.I was tired of the court politics of
university, and I was tired ofthe commodification of education, the squeezing of
budgets, and the self serving administratorswho protected their own salaries while the rest
of us had to make do whoWhen I had handed in my resignation,
there was no pretense that I wouldbe replaced. That's how vital my contribution

(37:07):
was. My great legacy had salarysaved and a deficit reduced. I had
started to wonder what the teachers wereeven there for. The students can get
all the information they need from theirphones now, and they'd rather listen to
a podcaster or a YouTuber than alecturer. I've over thirty years in the
field. I've done research published inacademic journals. But if you've seen a

(37:30):
fifty second video in your tweeting feed. Then you're the expert. Now,
I suppose students were paying more andpaying attention less. Only the young could
so cheerfully waste a fortune without caringabout the mounting consequences. No wonder I
wanted to retreat to the wilderness,and yet here I was stumbling into a

(37:52):
hotbed of local disenchantment, where gettinga man to cut his lawn and trim
his hedges required political action. Theletter to mister Carmichael was still on the
seat beside me. I'd forgotten tohead into the post office before dinner to
post it. I'll have to seeif the local branch was open in the
morning. It was almost dark,and I had forgotten to put my head

(38:14):
lights on. A passing car beattits horn at me, waking me up
from my melancholy. I was drivingon the pass road. It was ashamed
to put my head lights on.The fading glow of dusk was rather beautifully
filtering through the bright green of theleaves. I flipped the lever and the
lights came on. As soon asthe road ahead was lit up, I

(38:36):
saw a deer leap the crash barrierand land right in my path. It
didn't notice me until it was alreadysquare in my head lights. It was
startled and couldn't decide which way torun. I swerved right, which was
my only choice, but the stupidanimal went in the same direction. I
caught it hard against my bonnet asI tried to slow down, Veering out

(39:00):
of control, I crashed up againstthe curb of earth that hugged the cliff
side. I swung my steering wheelback to straighten my course. I could
already feel soil and stones grinding underthe axle, and managed to bring the
car down flat on the road.Finally I came to a stop. I

(39:21):
got out and assessed the situation.I was on the wrong side of the
road, but it was a straightstretch, so the risk of collision was
small. No one was going toturn a corner suddenly and collide with me.
The car was a mess as aresult of both the deer's impact and
the collision with the verge. I'dmanaged to damage both sides of the bonnet

(39:42):
and completely wrecked the bumper and grill. The impact against the side of the
cliff had caused the most harm.I could try and clear the soil and
stone out from around the wheel butI had felt it struggle when I had
started to straighten course, as almostcertainly bent out of shape. It was

(40:04):
very close to dark, it wasvery difficult to make an accurate inspection of
the damage. A few yards upthe road, the deer was trying to
make its getaway. She had survivedthe attack, but was in a bad
way now. She was limping alongwith one of her legs tucked up against
her body and the other three tryingto keep her upright. She was making

(40:25):
this awful squealing sound, like ahigh pitched cough. Had she been more
crippled, I could perhaps have donemore for her, perhaps put her out
of her misery. As she wasstill moving, and I lacked the tools
to put her down, not tomention the will or courage to chase her
down the road, I could dolittle but watch her try and make it

(40:46):
on her own, knowing full wellshe was unlikely to get for or survive
alone in the forest. There waslittle I could do for her. What
on earth was wrong with this road? Why were animals throwing themselves in front
of the traffic. If the deerhad not seen me because of my head

(41:07):
lights being off, she must certainlyshould have been able to hear me,
and where did the creature imagine shewas going. I had a small light
on my keyring, but that washardly going to help me see the damage
in more detail. The light onmy phone screen was little help either,
and there was, of course nophone signal. I really had little choice

(41:27):
but to wait and hope that apasser by would give me a lift home,
perhaps even tow me back to thevillage. I could still hear the
anguished sound of the deer. Shewas trying to jump the crash barrier,
but was too unsteady on her feet. It was hard to watch, and
I looked away. I started tofeel the chill of nightfall, and I

(41:51):
buttoned up my jacket. The roadwas never busy, but I would normally
pass at least some one when Iwas driving home. I just had to
be patient. A car would comeby. Eventually. All I was to
do was to wait. I thoughtabout sitting back inside the car. It
would be warmer and I could havethe radio on, but but then there

(42:14):
was a risk that I wouldn't beable to flag a car down in time
if one passed quickly. So Ileant against the car and I waited.
I started to whistle, but rememberinghow much Martinique hates my whistling, I
instinctively stopped myself. But as Istopped, my ears twitched. Was that

(42:34):
a voice that I could hear?The deer was gone now, and it
was all quiet around me. Iwalked across the road to the crash barrier
and looked out into the forest.I wasn't imagining it. There was definitely
something there, the sound of men'svoices shouting to one another, although it
was hard to discern how far awaythey were. I wondered who would be

(42:58):
out here this late hikers, probablywalking. Tourism was certainly popular, although
I was not aware of any particularinterest in this narrow sort of valley,
The larger hill climbs were more indemand. I considered whether to go and
find them to ask for their help. It would mean leaving my car,
which meant I would miss any passersby. I wasn't sure how long I'd

(43:22):
have to loiter by the road,Probably not too long, but I couldn't
be sure these people I could hearwere real, and hear now they might
themselves be heading towards a car parkedsomewhere and if there were several of them,
which seemed to be the case,then they might be able to help
me push my car onto the rightside of the road. They could also

(43:45):
be blessed with a signal on theirphones. I decided to take the risk.
If I missed a vehicle driving myway, I would only have to
wait for another one. This chanceexisted now. I locked my car and
then care for I stepped over thecrash barrier. There was a small but
steep slope to the ground below.The grass was slippier than I expected.

(44:07):
Some rain and deew had clung toit. I almost lost my footing.
When the ground leveled out, itwas not too difficult to walk on.
I was treading on a mix ofthin grass and dead foliage. The tall
trees were taking most of the sunlight. Ferns and other weeds were trying to
grow, but they were losing thewar for resources and looked discolored and fragile.

(44:31):
I listened carefully for the voices.I had not walked very far when
I heard the sound of something movingthrough the grass. Was a gray squirrel
running very quickly. It darted pastme and raced off into the distance.
I heard the shouts again a littlelouder this time. I couldn't see very

(44:54):
far ahead because of the thickness ofthe trees, and with each passing min
it it was getting darker. Butif the voices were getting louder, I
must be getting closer. A rabbitleaped through a bush of ferns to my
right. Like the squirrel, itwas moving at speed and seemed not to
notice me at all as it ranclose by. Barely a second passed before

(45:19):
it was followed by two others,each only concerned with running, not about
coming too close to a human intruder. I could hear the sounds of other
things moving around me. I spottedanother squirrel dashed by to my left.
To my right, I saw anotherdeer, this one in full health,
leaping through the trees. All theseanimals were going in the same direction,

(45:43):
exactly the opposite direction I was travelingin. I stopped for a moment.
I got the feeling that the wholeforest was moving, perhaps even running away
from something. I felt the night'schill stronger than the voices were even louder.
Now, sensing I was close andwith a growing sense of unease,

(46:07):
I shouted hello to them. Igot no immediate answer. But then I
heard screaming that was followed by aroar of other voices, shouting together in
synchronization. Something was very wrong here. There was an explosion. I felt

(46:28):
the ground shake, A cloud ofsmoke broke into the sky. A rain
of soil and foliage fell on me. Through the trees, I saw a
man coming towards me. He ranlike he was running for his life.
His teeth were gritted, his fistsclenched, his feet pounding furiously. He
wore the clothes of a soldier,but not one from this century. He

(46:51):
was a red coat, with whitetrousers and leather boots, and a saber
held against his side. He wascoming right at me. I was so
startled I could barely think to move. I realized we might collide, but
I was transfixed. He was aboutto run right into me when there was
a loud bang. The man criedout. He collapsed, face slamming into

(47:15):
the ground just feet from me.There was a hole in his back.
A little smoke drifted from it.He'd been shot. My body finally stirred,
I panicked, my blood racing Istarted to flee, but in which
direction I'd lost all my bearings.Where was I going? Should I find

(47:37):
cover or just run? I couldhear more gunfire. Another explosion hit the
ground, more soil flew through theair. I saw two more soldiers emerge
from bushes nearby. One could runwell, but the other was already injured
and struggling to keep pace. Then, forcing the bushes aside, appeared the

(48:00):
most enormous man I have ever seen. He must have been over seven feet
tall. Where the wrestlers build.He was bare chested, with camouflage painted
across his face and body. Hecarried a medi evil mace. He pounced
towards the limping man, Swinging themace under arm. He struck the soldier

(48:24):
on the back of his head.His scalp came clean off. The soldier
shrieked and fell to the ground.The other soldier made the terrible mistake of
looking to see what had happened.In doing so, he distracted himself and
tripped over some obstruction. He toofell to the earth, giving the giant

(48:46):
his chance. The man kicked thesoldier over onto his back. Helplessly,
he waved his arms in front ofhis face. The giant brought the mace
down and smashed in his skull.The giant moved to finish off his other
wounded prey. I ran madly intothe forest. I was unsure which direction

(49:07):
I was going. I could hearmore shots, another explosion of earth.
I tripped over something lurking under thedead grass. I plummeted to the ground.
The impact winded me. I gotup on all fours, gasping for
air. I grabbed hold of atree to pull myself up. Christ it

(49:28):
was almost completely dark. I hadlost my bearings totally. Everything seemed now
to have gone quiet. I walkedon a little further. I reached for
my phone, trying to shine itsweak light ahead of me, but it
showed me very little. I carriedon for a few yards. The only

(49:50):
thing I could hear was the soundof my own desperate breathing. I heard
a sound. I shone my phonearound in front of me. Who's there,
I cried. I could see nothing. I was startled by the sudden
appearance of light. A torch hadbeen lit, a torch of red and
yellow fire. There were men shoutingand laughing and rejoicing. In front of

(50:15):
them were a pile of bodies,young red Coat soldiers stacked up. There
were dozens of them, bloodstained,beaten, and crippled. I watched in
horror the man with the torch plungedit into the pile of bodies. There
were rapturous cheers from his band ofthugs. I could not tell how many

(50:38):
there were in this group, morethan ten. I think they all wore
dark, tatty clothing, daubed inmakeshift camouflage, their faces covered in war
paint. He held the torch againstthe pile until it started to catch the
flame. As the fire took hold, one of the bodies started to move,

(51:00):
one was still alive. He shookhimself free from the pile. He
slipped onto the floor, sending otherbodies down on top of him. He
tried to wriggle across the ground fromunder them, but it was all in
vain. The mob, seeing thisdisruption, ran at him, howling,
with sabers ready. The man witha torch held it high for them as

(51:22):
they hacked and stabbed the soldier ruthlesslyto death. He was so young,
they were all so young. Icould take no more. I wanted to
scream. I turned and ran again. My only plan was to put great
distance between myself and those cheers.I cared not about the direction, just

(51:45):
the distance. I charged forward,trying my best not to stumble. I
could see hardly anything. Now Iwas away from the fire, I was
lost. All around me looked thesame, I had to think. I
heard another gun shot, followed bymore cruel jeering. A hat to think
faster, I remembered the forest continuedup the hillside. If I moved in

(52:09):
one direction, there was a slightincline. If I moved in the opposite,
that must take me back to theroad. As it got even darker,
I was sure I must be onthe right path. Because of the
growing shadow of the cliff side.I could see the steep ground leading up
to the road. There was moregunfire in the distance. Ecstatic to know

(52:30):
safety was in reach, I dashedup the bank. I resorted to climbing
on all fours. As the steepnessof the climb became too hard to manage,
I threw myself over the crash barrierwithout looking. I landed on the
tarmac, experiencing only the briefest momentof sheer relief, because then a car

(52:52):
horn shrieked, A vehicle appeared fromaround a bend in the road. I
was courts in its headline. Iscreamed, collapsing to my knees. I
cowered pitifully, crossing my arms overmy face, as if that would save
me. The car brakes screeched foran incredible second. I did not know

(53:15):
whether I would escape or be forcedunder its wheels, but for a few
inches I was spared. I waskneeling in the road. The groan of
the car engine in front of mewas the only thing I could hear.
I slowly uncovered my eyes. Itwas hard to see when the headlights shining

(53:37):
in my eyes, I could tellthis was a larger than normal car.
It was painted black, making iteven harder to make out. I heard
the car door open and feet landon the tarmac. What the hell has
gone into you, said a figureapproaching me. On my knees trembling,

(53:57):
I rose to look the man inthe face. He was barely visible in
the light. I had an accident, I cried. I saw something in
the forest above the lights. Icould make out the man's face, and
it was familiar to me, thoughI couldn't place it. He stared back
coldly. Then he walked to thecabin and got inside. Was an old

(54:22):
land drover. He seemed to bewaiting for me. I hobbled over to
the passenger door and joined him inside. Without a word, he lifted the
handbrake and started to drive. Nowords passed between us as we went.
I was in a state of supremeshock. Completing false sentences wasn't something I

(54:43):
thought I could manage. He drovea little fast. As I looked at
him in the low light, Irealized he'd been the man at the pub
who had persuaded the old man Frankto leave. I felt like I should
say something to him, but heseemed so determined not to glance in my
direction. I remained silent. Itwas a noisy vehicle, unlikely to be

(55:06):
environmentally friendly. I never thought toask where he was taking me. He
was traveling in my direction. Thatwas enough. He drove me not just
back to my village, but withouta word from me, he stopped the
car right at the end of mydrive. We sat in silence, with
the engine running. I was trembling. It were the early eighteen hundreds.

(55:30):
He began, as if folk weren'talready being paid pittance. The factory and
mill owners were bringing in the machinesand laying off the workers. He finally
turned to me, My government wascracking down on saboteurs, luddites, anyone
who was organizing demonstrations, strikes,and attacks on the owner's expensive new toys.

(55:53):
Soldiers were sent in to restore order. After the arrests started, many
of the Rings leaders fled into thehills and to the country, hoping for
the protection of their friends and relationsand sympathetic folk who knew the same fate
was coming for them, if notnow, but soon and in the future.

(56:14):
Someone got winned that a small divisionof troops was being sent to flush
the rebels out of town. Theywere going to raid and search each home
one by one. The plan wasto do it at first light, before
anyone knew what was going on.They were to march here overnight, avoiding
the roads so they'd not be seen. But we knew we had a few

(56:36):
friends with the right connections. Abunch of us waited for them in the
forest. There were less than twentyof them. They had old guns and
old weapons. They even had anold cannon. They waited days for them
in those hills, knowing they werecoming, but not when when they came,
there were sixty of them, sixty, and they didn't know what hit

(57:00):
them. They were nearly wiped out. Only eight got out alive, and
they all went back. His facewas uncomfortably close to mine. There was
fire in his eyes. He lookedproud, He looked satisfied. The government

(57:22):
they had to hush it up.They couldn't let word get out that they'd
been fought off by a bunch ofvillage folk. When those soldiers came back,
there were over a hundred of them, but by then the rebels had
gone. They didn't catch even theone of them. He glared at me.

(57:42):
I just wanted to get out ofthere. Thank you for rescuing me,
I muttered. I opened the doorand got out of the cabin.
You haven't lived here long, haveyou, he asked. I answered in
the affirmative. I lived just upthe road from here, old cottage,
first one you see when you comeinto town. I think you know it.

(58:06):
My face dropped. It was misterCarmichael. I'd never put eyes on
him before. Mustn't dawdle, though, he said, God to be fresh
in the morning. I got shelvesterstack. We wouldn't want you lot to
go without your fresh hummus and kale. Would we see your neighbor, he
said. He leaned across and pulledthe passenger door shut. The engine growled,

(58:29):
and he drove off. I dashedto my front door. I couldn't
stop myself from running. All wasdark and silent at home. Martinique must
have gone to bed early. Bertie, our Dalmatian, raised his head from
his basket when he heard the dooropen. On seeing it was me,
he snorted and settled himself back downto sleep. I found my way into

(58:53):
the kitchen. I knew I hadto call for assistance to retrieve the car,
but I was in too much ofstate. I went to pour myself
a whiskey. My hands were shaking. I couldn't pour straight. The bottle
clinked against the glass, and anexpensive vintage started spilling on the floor.
I stopped and drank all that I'dmanaged to catch. I dropped into a

(59:16):
chair by the table, thinking Imight pass out uncontrollably, my mind was
replaying the whole thing, a horrifyingmontage of violent images and blood spilling.
My heart was thumping, tears werein my eyes. I looked around at
my fitted kitchen, my marble worktopsand copper bottom pans, and vintage whiskey.

(59:39):
I knew then in my heart thatif the revolution were to come tonight,
they'd come for me too. Theydragged me away and put my head
on the block along with the restof them. Where had I gone wrong?
The next day, I loaned acar, packed my guard tools inside,

(01:00:00):
and drove to mister Carmichael's house tostart work on his hedges. Community.
That's where it's got to start.We've got to support each other,
understand each other, help each other, and start caring about each other.
It's the only way. Thank youfor listening to the New ghost Stories podcast.

(01:00:29):
If you've enjoyed the podcast and wantto support what I do, please
like, comment, or leave areview on any platform and subscribe to hear
future releases. You can also supportthe show by becoming a patron and visiting
patreon dot com slash New ghost Stories. The show is written and produced by
me, David Paul Nixon. Ifyou like to read more from me,

(01:00:50):
visit my substack New ghost Stories dotsubstack dot com, and you can also
find me on Instagram. Threats masteredon Facebook and the website for only known
as Twitter at Ugo Stories next timeon the Newgo Stories podcast. If you
don't confess, can you ever getclean?