The Ghoul

To retire to a place by the sea is a not uncommon ambition, but one which I have been lucky enough to achieve. The place I have acquired is set on a Welsh hillside, and overlooks the Irish Sea. It's a good hour to actually get to the shoreline on foot, but that's fine, as the view is spectacular, and I have no calls on my time now.

The walk to the beach takes me along the top of some cliffs. Not so close that I'm likely to fall off I'm pleased to say, as I don't much care for heights, or rather, drops. I have no inclination to get too close to that edge. The mere thought of it makes me uncomfortable.

My dogs on the other hand, seem oblivious to the dangers, and have happily raced along the grassy field in wild abandon, feigning deafness to my calls to come away. I have taken to keeping them on a lead whilst we descend, just to be on the safe side.

I can see the cliffs from my bedroom window. Part of the joy of living by the sea is being able to stare out at it, in all weathers. At night I can usually see the winking of a lighthouse some way out and to my left, and the gleam of lights from the wind turbines that now populate this stretch of the coast. By day there are birds, hikers, and the occasional fox or badger. To me, it seems strange, but I've never seen any sheep, though elsewhere they seem prevalent.

There is a storm this evening, the first since I moved in a couple of months ago. I love storms. and plan to make the most of it. My armchair is positioned to provide an unimpeded view. The dogs are sleeping contentedly on the mats next to the bed, and my bedside table is doing service to hold my glass of orangeade.

Outside, the rain has begun to fall, heavy and violent. I can hear it drumming on the windows, staccato to start, but building to a dense, throbbing beat as the wind lashes it back and forth. I'm standing, staring out, not wishing to miss a moment of the spectacle.

The first rumble is surprisingly close. The storm has moved in quickly, and within seconds there is a streak of lightning that slashes through the sky, impossibly brilliant. Another crash, and I'm leaning on the windowsill, my arms spread either side of me, and my nose pressed against the glass.

As the scene is once again illuminated, I think that I see something, or someone, out on the cliffs. Naturally I peer in that direction, and on the following strike, I can see that it is definitely a figure. Though at this distance, and at a quick glimpse, it's hard to make out much detail. Now, whoever it is, has my complete attention. In the dark, I can just make them out as a shape against the skyline.

The next flash, and suddenly my mouth goes dry. The figure is a woman, and I can tell this because she has taken off her coat. In the stark light, I can see her slim shape, her clothing clearly soaked and clinging to her. What on earth is she doing out there? She walks towards the cliff edge, her arms are outstretched as though embracing the storm.

Illuminated for an incandescent instant that seems to stretch endlessly, as I watch her pitch forwards and vanish.

Then I'm charging downstairs. I tear open the front door, and the dogs are going berserk with excitement as I run out. The shock of the cold rain stops me, and I stand in the garden, then about turn and re-enter the house. I phone the emergency services and give them brief details. Then I pull on a coat and some boots, grab a torch and the dog's leads.

Despite knowing there is nothing I can do, I run, stumbling and sliding on rain slick grass till I reach the cliff tops. I search fruitlessly for the woman's coat, but cannot find it. I reason that it must have blown over the edge after her.

Steeling myself I move forwards, feeling deeply unhappy as the wind and rain buffets me. Eventually, I get down on my belly, I am already soaked to the skin. As I creep forwards, I feel a mounting terror. The dogs are confused, and Kit, the younger of them keeps pushing her nose into my face as if enquiring what is going on.

I hear Kit yelp, as though she has been struck, and whimpering, she retreats from me. I swing around to see what's happening, and see torch lights approaching up the hill. Turning back to the edge, I suddenly feel extremely nauseous. My skin crawls, and I feel sick to my stomach. I want to curl up and die. This isn't worth it. What am I doing? I should just throw myself after her.

Hands grab my feet and drag me back, I hear my name. It is the police. As soon as they have pulled me back, the nausea ceases, as though turned off by a switch. I let two of them help me back to the house, whilst others sweep the headland with powerful torches. I am assured that others are heading down to the base of the cliffs.

They help me home. I go through what I saw with them, and after a long while, they leave, assuring me that they will let me know if a body is found. Exhausted, I go to bed and sleep.

When I wake, I feel compelled to go and look for the woman's coat. I feed the dogs, as I'm not planning on taking them this time. After a much needed coffee, I head out, and make my way along and down to the cliff-tops.

The wind is still strong, and drives thin needles of rain into my face as I squelch down the track, avoiding the larger puddles as best I can. When I reach the exposed, open grassland of the cliff tops, I can see straight away that there is no coat anywhere, and realise my stupidity. If it where here, then the police would have found it.

Cautiously I approach the edge. Something else occurs to me. There is no police presence here this morning. Surely if they've found a body, there's be tape or something? Maybe because the body would have been at the bottom of the cliffs, they'll only have someone down there. I'm closer to the edge than I'm comfortable with, and I sit down involuntarily, my body not willing to get closer whilst vertical.

Embarrassed, I shuffle backwards until I can stand again. Then I begin the long walk down to the beach. There are no signs of any police presence there either, and as if on cue, my phone rings. The police are very kind about it, even thanking me for making the report, but it is clear that they think I was seeing things.

A few weeks pass, and the weather gets 'muggy. It feels like I am walking through a thin soup. The air is close, still and the heat oppressive. I'm spending a lot of time outdoors, albeit mostly in the shade. The exception being my daily walks, down to the beach and back. Every day as I pass the cliff tops, I wonder about what I saw. What I thought I saw, I'm no longer as certain as I was.

This afternoon, on an impulse, I decide to get closer to the edge again. The one thing that really puzzles me about the whole experience is the strange feeling I had when I got near. It was more than my usual fear of heights.

To be careful, and because frankly I am scared as hell, I get down on my belly, and inch forwards like a snake. I can hear the buzzing of all sorts of insects, and I'm sure I shall prove to be covered in midge bites later.

Without warning, I feel the atmosphere change. As before, I feel suddenly queasy, but more than that, I feel a deep feeling of despair, of hopelessness. I find myself thinking that I should just stand up, and walk off the cliff, just end it all now. I'm worthless, my life is utterly pointless.

Then I hear the whispering. To begin with it's indistinct, I can't hear what is being said, but there are many voices. Then it becomes clear, they are entreating me to join them, cajoling, pressing the case for putting an end to my senseless existence. And, for a moment, I decide they are right. I start to stand up.

Kit is barking frantically behind me. I turn, and as I do so, I trip over my own feet, and go sprawling forwards. As I fall, I can feel thin fingers, feebly trying to hold onto me. I snap free of their grasp, and lie sobbing on the grass. The suicidal urge has gone, just as abruptly as before.

I can see Kit, chasing around the grass in pursuit of a rabbit. Then something else. I freeze as a young woman comes sweeping down towards me. She is wearing a long coat, and it blows around her, though not even a breeze disturbs the air. I watch as she slips it off and her dress presses close to her body. Somehow I realise I am rewatching the scene I saw during the storm, but from a different angle.

It is clear the women cannot see me, cannot see anyone. She gets closer, raising her arms above her, and pauses, right in front of me. Terrified, I look through her, then she steps forwards and I hear her scream.

Frantically I crawl away from the cliff, and when I can get up, I run towards the path, yelling Kit and Mott to come to me. Shakily, I make my way back home.

I begin to become obsessed by that cliff. I won't go near it again, but I want to know, what did I see? Who did I see? I begin my search in the local library. Local being a bus journey away here, but nonetheless closest. Not sure what I'm looking for, I ask if I can look through copies of the local paper. This is in the process of being converted to put n the internet, but I'm shown an elderly microfiche machine, and begin working my way through the films.

On my second trip, I find the first reference to the cliffs. A couple from Wrexham with some minor money troubles both flung themselves to their deaths. The report of their death, which was big news for the area made mention that this was not the first death there, and mentioned a specific case from a few years before.

Tracking this story down, I looked for a very long time into the eyes of the young woman I had seen. Reading the article I learned that she had mistakenly thought herself pregnant, and it was thought that was the reason for her death, but one of the comments mentioned the 'dark, ghoulish atmosphere' of the cliffs. I think that the malign ghoul was what tried to lure me to suicide, as it had the young woman who's ghost I'd seen.

Something lurks on those cliffs, and preys on those who stray too close, especially if they are already depressed. It's quite enough for me. I may want to live by the sea, but I no longer want to live here.

Word count 1,950 words.