Night casts dark shadows across the brightly lit green lawns of day and some things change forever

Episode 1 (start)           Episode 24 (next)            Info         Use Search for other Episodes

Short Fat Stubby Finger Stories PRESENTS:

Episode 23

Martin scratched his head in bewilderment at what he was observing as the small group made their way into the farmhouse.   In direct contradiction to the Devil’s caricature on the front door, a large crucifix hung conspicuously on the wall of the small hallway leading into the house, and judging by the highly polished shine on the silver cross Martin guessed that it was a recent addition to the environment.

   Attached to the wall directly opposite the crucifix there was a full length mirror where somebody had sketched a crude drawing of the face and upper body of a horned beast inside a circle, using some form of red liquid, which Martin presumed to be paint.  And although the image itself was roughly drawn, it had been accurately sized to ensure that the reflection of the crucifix was encased within the circle, as if to ward off the evil entity.   More symbols appeared around the outside of the circle, and although Joseph and his friends failed to interpret their absolute meaning, the intention to keep the Devil enclosed seemed obvious to them.

   “This is creepy,” Rosetta commented, clutching at the small crucifix she wore around her neck.

   “Come on,” Martin called out cheerfully as he moved on towards the next room, “we’ve work to do.  No time to admire the local art.”

   Passing through the hallway the trio entered a large room that appeared to be a combined dining and lounge room – although at the moment it bore a closer resemblance to a warehouse for Andy Warhol rejects.   The walls were splattered with charcoal drawn images of stick men, all wearing what Martin took to be dunce’s hats, and a replica of the horned beast hovering above them.

   Most of the stick men were either drawn as if they were running in fear of the creature, or piled up on top of each other in one big heap – and all with a thick streak of red paint criss-crossed over their prone bodies.   The more Martin looked at the strange drawings the more he became more convinced than ever that it had been children that had drawn the images both on the wall and the front door … though he had his reservations about the crucifix and the position it occupied within the circle on the mirror.   Although the colour of the liquid used on both the wall and the mirror appeared to be similar, the act of creating the image in the mirror seemed much more the work of a religious zealot, than a pimply-faced teenager out getting his jollies.

   On the floor, in the middle of the room, were the remnants of an almost expired bonfire somewhere around three to four metres in diameter.   The almost perfect circle was littered with soot and glowing embers, but whatever had been burning on top of the carpet was no longer to be seen.   Some odd crackling and popping sounds could be heard as red embers occasionally projected themselves out of the still smouldering area, creating new scorch marks on the carpet surrounding the circle before they quickly burned themselves out.   For whatever reason, the fire seemed restricted to the circle … and not an inch outside of it.  

    Joseph, like Martin, was also trying to make some sense of the room’s current appearance, and he was equally surprised that the still smouldering fire in the middle of a carpet was not causing them breathing problems, though it did add a rather repugnant light odour to the room.   Not enough to make one feel sick, but strong enough to be noted and annoying.    However, as he looked around the room he could see several windows had been left slightly ajar, possibly since the fire had first been discovered, and he decided that it was the access to fresh air that they provided that had greatly subdued the obnoxious smell.   And then he remembered what Martin had mentioned the previous evening in regards to what the police inspector had told him about the fire.

   “It looks like somebody’s had one hell of a barbecue,” Martin commented, as if reading Joseph’s mind, “It is not exactly how I imagined it would be.   Though I’m not too sure I knew what to expect when the Inspector told me about it.  The whole concept of a still smouldering fire inside a house left a little bit too much to imagination for me, I am afraid.”

   “You and me both, Martin,” Joseph replied, “And,” He added with a crooked smile, “What were they cooking – because there doesn’t seem to be any cooking apparatus inside the circle.   No signs of a barbecue or anything similar … just carpet and ashes.   Perhaps they were trying to simulate a hangi.’

   “What’s that?”   Rosetta asked.

   “Ah, it’s a New Zealand way of cooking where the food is cooked under the fire, instead of over it.   Quite popular they are … and they make some great meals.”   Martin offered.

   “Sounds a bit strange to me … why did they bother inventing ovens if digging holes under open fires are so good?”   Rosetta replied, rolling her eyes as she spoke before turning back to face Joseph.   “Do you think there is something buried at the bottom, Joseph?”

   “Like a stuffed pig or some potatoes in alfoil.”  Joseph grinned, “No, I don’t think so.   At any rate, the fire-fighter’s decision had been partly right.   The fire didn’t go completely out, but the house still didn’t burn down.   So it will eventually burn itself out, no doubt.”

   “Shouldn’t we put this fire out?” Rosetta asked with concern at both the slight odour that still emitted from the dark patch of carpet, and the fact that it was, after all, still a fire.

   “No, I shouldn’t worry about it just at the moment,” Joseph replied, “I doubt it’s going to explode in flames any minute now.   Anyway, it is not actually burning as much as it is smouldering – though whatever it is that is smouldering, I am afraid that I have absolutely no idea.   And, on top of everything else, the house is mainly made of brick and stone, so it’s not going to burn down very easily.   And, on the other hand, too much water sprayed on the carpet would most likely create an even more foul-smelling odour to overtake the farmhouse within a few days than what it produces now … especially in this weather.   Remember, there is no one actually occupying the farm at the moment, so there would be no one to soak up the water once the fire was completely out.   The water would just lay there and rot what was left of the carpet.   And if I remember correctly, the police inspector said that the fireman had told him that they couldn’t out the fire out completely.   So if the professionals couldn’t manage to extinguish it, I very much doubt that we could.   Is that not the case, Fireman Sam?”  Joseph called out as he turned to face Martin.

   “Couldn’t have put it any better myself, old chap.   We’ll just let it smoulder away.   No need for us to become volunteer fire-fighters.   Not our job, and we don’t want to get in trouble with the local chapter of the fire brigade union by doing their job for them.   Much better for us just to stick with our searching and get out of here as fast as we can.”

   “You could just as well have just said no.”  Mary stated dryly, her lower lip dropping as she spoke, “It would have been a lot quicker to have put the fire out than the time it took for your answer.

   “But we can open a few more windows if you like.” Joseph added with a smile, “Make the room a little fresher.”

   “Yes, that would be good … thank you.”  Rosetta replied, her tone not hiding her disappointment at the dismissal of her suggestion.  She had no idea of what was bugging  her about the fire, but the ominous feeling that it had placed on her from the moment they had entered the room was not subsiding.

   As Joseph and Martin opened the first of the extra windows the change was immediate.   They could feel the mild odour of the room being sucked out with the aid of the newly opened windows, and by the time they had finished the task the smell was unnoticeable.

   However, in point of truth, the fire had worried Joseph from the moment he had first laid eyes on it, but he had not said anything to the others.   Something about the fire was ringing warning bells in his head, but he could not yet work out what it was.   Whatever it was, it was making the hair on his arms tingle and his veins were tightening as hard as he could tolerate.   Joseph knew that something evil was not too far away.

********

   Rosetta felt more comfortable when Joseph suggested it was time to do a quick search of the rest of the house because it meant getting out of the room which was making her feel rather unsettled.    Leaving Martin to his own devices Joseph and Rosetta moved on to the next room which turned out to be a bedroom.   An unmade bed, its bed-head pressed hard against one wall occupied a large percentage of the smallish room.  A single wardrobe stood fast against the wall that ran parallel with the bed, and a small dresser and a trunk on the floor beside the bed completed the sparse furnishings.   The room emitted a natural, lived-in appearance … a complete disparity to the state of the room that they had just left with its charcoal littered carpet and graffiti laden walls.   Rosetta opened the wardrobe and found a smattering of men’s clothes hanging on some wooden hangers.   “These are my father’s,” Rosetta exclaimed excitedly,   “He never takes much on his travels.   Mainly work clothing and a good suit with accessories for his air travels.   This must have been his room.   Most of his other clothing should be in the dresser.”   And a quick check of the dresser confirmed her theory.

   While Rosetta was occupied with the contents of the dresser, Joseph had begun to rummage through the professor’s trunk hoping that something amongst the archaeology necessities such as lights, small tool packs and rope ladders would reveal something of help to them.   And as luck would have it there was also a small diary.   Joseph opened the book and began to flip through the pages, but he quickly realised that it was all written in Italian and handed it to Rosetta, advising her to hold on to it and they would examine it later.

   “You don’t want me to read it right now?’  Rosetta asked in surprise, “It might tell us straight away where the statue is.”

   “It could, Rosetta, but even though I can’t read or write Italian it seemed to me to have too much information crammed inside to find anything in a hurry.   No, I suggest we keep searching and examine what we find in more detail when we have finished.”

   However, regardless of Joseph’s suggestion, Rosetta opened the pages and like Joseph flicked through the pages for a minute then closed the book and put it in her bag.   “I am sorry, Joseph.”  Rosetta said, her face expressing both embarrassment and apology,   “Your instincts were correct.   Nothing appears to be in any particular order.  It will possibly take me several hours to make sense of my father’s chicken scratchings.”

********

Finally finishing their search of the professor’s room Joseph and Rosetta moved to the next room where they found a similar layout complete with clothes and personal effects that included a framed photograph of two men at an unknown dig which helped Rosetta identify the items as belonging to her uncle.

   “Your father and uncle are fairly similar in appearance, Rosetta,” Joseph remarked, “They are fine looking men.”

   “Yes,” Rosetta replied, her tone and smile indicated her pride in the two men, “you will like them, Joseph … when you meet them.”

   “I am looking forward to it.”

   “So am I, Joseph.”   Rosetta reached forward as she spoke and clasped her hands around his.   Joseph was surprised by her affection, and again he wished he could tell her the truth … but he had begun to wonder what the truth really was at the moment.   The fire had told Joseph that there was much more going on around him than he could ever imagine and he was quickly understanding that the sooner they became aware of what was about to confront them – the readier they would be.   But it was also something he knew that he couldn’t discuss with Martin and Rosetta … at least not just yet.   They would probably think him mad.   Joseph knew he would have to keep everything to himself and hoped things would reveal themselves to him in a clearer manner before it became too late.

********

   Meanwhile, Martin had completed a check of the remainder of the house which revealed the same kind of undisturbed, lived-in, impression.  Used towels were hanging on a rack in the bathroom.   A tube of toothpaste and several toothbrushes were neatly standing upright in a cup that rested on the sink cabinet.   The kitchen was reasonably tidy, though there was little food in the cupboards.   Tea, coffee, sugar and some biscuits sat on a sideboard near the stove, and there was some milk still in the fridge, but it had thickened and gone well past its expiry date.   In retrospect everything in the house seemed normal considering the type of life the archaeologists would have expected to be living when they were on the digs, and Rosetta had said that was how her father had viewed the trip to the farm because he still had a lot of research to do on his find.  

   When the trio met up again in the hallway they all agreed that, for all sake and purposes, the house appeared normal.   Only the lounge room and the hallway were out of sync.   It was Martin who expressed the opinion that was in all of their minds – that the situation wasn’t making much sense.  “Surely vandals must have started the fire in the lounge room,” he began, “and painted the graffiti on the walls.   But why graffiti the walls then try to burn the house down … why not one or the other?   Why didn’t they trash the rest of the house?   Why were the contents of the other rooms undisturbed?   It couldn’t have been because they were interrupted, surely, or they wouldn’t have had time to set up the fire.   It would have made more sense to steal everything that wasn’t tied down and damage whatever was left, before setting fire to it if they were simply thieves or kids after their jollies.   Why pick on those two rooms?   And, besides, even an idiot would surely realise that with these walls the fire was never going to reach the timber beams in the ceiling.  So what was the point of it all?”

   “So many questions, my friend, so few answers.”  Joseph added in agreement.

   “The mirror may have been part of the household furniture,” Martin continued, “as the crucifix in the hallway could also very well have been the property of the farm’s owner, but the image in the mirror was created deliberately … and I am fairly certain that the professor or his brother did not draw it … just not their style as Rosetta would attest.  It was crude, but some effort had gone in to the way the crucifix was reflected in the mirror to counter act the devil.   That surely wasn’t the same miscreants that had started the fire, surely not?   But the drawings on the wall; those stupid matchstick men with the dunce’s hats … they had to be juveniles, and they could have been responsible for the fire.”

   “Perhaps they were a warning.” Joseph offered, “But a warning to us, or for us, that is the question?

   “What do you mean, Joseph,” Rosetta asked, slightly perplexed where Martin and Joseph were heading.

   “Martin is pointing out that perhaps there were at least two sets of people besides your father and uncle visiting the house recently.   Whoever started the fire – and whoever drew the image of the devil on the mirror in a way that it would capture the reflection of the crucifix.   There is also the possibility that there were a third set of visitors that drew the graffiti on the walls, though I personally feel the graffiti and the crucifix warning were put there by the same party.”

   “But what do you mean by the warning, Joseph?”  Rosetta insisted.

   “I was wondering whether it was a warning for us or to us?”

   “Yes … ?”  Rosetta  insisted, awaiting Joseph’s explanation with the impatience of somebody who had unexpectedly found themselves in an environment completely out of their depth.

   “I was wondering if whoever created the illusion on the mirror meant it to be a warning to us that something evil supposedly resided on the farm and for us to be careful – or if it was meant to warn us to stay away … or pay the consequences.

   “Oh,” Rosetta said with a shudder, “Which do think it is, Joseph?”

   Rosetta and Martin both looked at Joseph with hope, but he simply shrugged his shoulders.   “No idea, I am afraid.  I think we need to return to the dining room.”

    Both Martin and Rosetta felt slightly disappointed as they followed Joseph out of the room.   For some unknown reason they had both expected him to not only have an opinion, they had half expected him to give them a Sherlock Holmes explanation … complete with facts and names.   When that never eventuated, to give themselves peace of mind, they decided that Joseph was playing his cards close to his chest and would reveal all when he was ready.   Little did they know that Joseph was playing his cards close to his chest … for a completely different reason.

   However, in their minds at least,  Joseph quickly exemplified their thoughts as soon as they entered the room when he immediately began having a far closer scrutiny of the wall and its childish art.   He began with the drawing on the far left hand side of the room, then slowly moved to his right, stopping in front of each new drawing as he came to it until he had reached the last one in the room.

   “Do you see something in them, Joseph?”   Martin asked hopefully,  “They all seem rather vulgar and amateurish to me.”

   “I agree,” Joseph replied, “they are very amateurish,  but … .”   Something about the entire layout was bothering him.  He looked at the ceiling, and then at the wall again, and finally the fire.   Then suddenly something inside Joseph’s brain twigged.   “I don’t know the background,” he unexpectedly stated to his companions, “and I don’t know the facts, and I certainly don’t know who they really were, but I don’t think the drawings represented a pack of dunces.   I think that they were telling us something that we’re not yet understanding.   Do you notice something strange about the fire, Martin?”

   Rosetta turned to him with a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

   “I’m not too sure what you mean either, old chap.”   Martin added.

   “There is no fuel that we can see.”  Joseph responded,   “No pieces of timber.   No cans of petrol or bottles of kerosene sitting on the floor near the fire.   The fire looks as if it has been smouldering for quite some time, and we know that it has, and it would have been a fairly large fire initially, in area at least, judging by the size of its base.   Which means that at one stage a flame must have been rising, and a fair amount of the embers still appear to be hot even now.   Yet the house didn’t burn down when it was at its most intense … there is no indication that any attempt was made to control it, or put it out – even though the fire brigade said they had attempted to.   There are no water stains.   There are no blisters appearing on the paint on the wall.  There are no smoke stains on the walls, or the ceiling, and there is virtually no smoke coming from what is left of the fire – it’s almost pure heat.    It is still smouldering … and it still produces a faint odour of something rather foul.   And yet the smoldering fire seems to be confined to the inner circle.   So what exactly is keeping the fire active?”

   “Well it had to burn something to make that awful smell.” Rosetta said in confusion.   “So there must have been fuel to begin with.   Furniture, do you think?   Perhaps a table and some chairs?  They threw petrol or oil or something onto a table and some chairs and that is what set fire to the carpet and made the smell?   Joseph, there must have been something burning.”

   “I agree,” Joseph nodded, “the question is what was burning.   I doubt very much somebody set fire to a table and chairs, because I also doubt that this place warranted two tables and more chairs than it houses at the moment.   But you are right … it had to be something that was combustible, but large in quantity or size.”

   While Joseph was talking, Martin moved closer to the outer ring of the fire.   He looked around for something to use, and when he realised that there was nothing in the room he went to a cupboard enclosed in the wall between the two bedrooms and returned with a broom.   Stopping at the edge of the circle he cautiously extended the handle into the glowing embers and began to push some of the burnt debris aside.  Eventually he made contact with the object that he was after and used the broom handle to slide it across the floor until it was at his feet outside the circle, then he reached down and picked it up.

   “Look at this,” Martin exclaimed as he displayed his prize in his open palm, a gold ring, twisted and bent beyond being used as it had been designed to be, but possibly still holding some value providing it was as it appeared – pure gold.

   “You have good eyesight, Martin.”   Joseph noted with admiration.

   “I thought that I could see something glistening in the debris.  It seemed to reflect the embers, rather than glow.”  Martin said. “Just a bit of luck really.

   “It certainly is, Martin.   But the thing that makes it really interesting is that unlike the walls, there is damage to it,” Joseph remarked.   “Just look at how much it has melted.   One can only guess at how much heat it was exposed to, but the melting point of gold is just under two thousand degrees Fahrenheit, or a little over one thousand Celsius, if you prefer … and that is almost twice the heat of an average house fire.   Well done, Martin, but you’ve now made matters worse for us.”

   “How is that?”   Martin asked in surprise.

   “If there was that much heat in the house … how come then, that the house did not burn down?   That is quite a lot of heat simply to produce an ember popping carpet … and it is far too much heat for a kitchen table and a couple of wooden chairs to produce.   There are so many questions in this house they would supply fodder for a science themed game show for a year or more.”

   “I think I might do a little more fishing while my luck is in.”   Martin said with a grin, “never know what I might hook.   See how many more questions I can add to the pot.”

   Martin returned to his prodding and raking, eventually locating an odd mixture of items, which included some clothing, namely a shirt and jacket that had somehow managed to remain intact, and several gold watches that, like the ring, had been badly affected by its exposure to the heat of the fire.   But the watches also presented a new addition to the slowly expanding list of facts pertaining to the fire.  One watch would have been worn by a man … the other by a woman.

   “Why would there be so many people in the house if the residents weren’t present?”   Joseph asked almost to himself, “Could they have started the fire?   But why?   Why were they here?    Who were they?   Were the professor and his brother in the house at the time?    Did this have something to do with the professor’s current condition? “

   “Can’t help you there, Old Chap, but perhaps this is your answer to the origins of the fire, Joseph.”   Martin mused, staring at the clothing in his hand as he spoke,   “Clothing, or some similar material like old curtains must have been used to start the fire, but why didn’t these particular items burn?”

   “I don’t think that clothing or curtains of any description could have produced the heat that bent the ring and the watches,”   Joseph replied,  “but why what you are holding didn’t burn, I don’t know.   Perhaps they were protected by something that covered them at the time.   Something that we can no longer see.”

   “Perhaps because they are made from a non-combustible material,”   Rosetta chipped in, taking the coat that Martin had extracted from the fire, “and this is certainly not my father’s or uncle’s.   It is far too big for either one of them.”

   Martin and Joseph looked at Rosetta, a shade of bemusement covering their individual faces.

   “I learnt that in the fashion industry,” Rosetta continued defensively when she saw the expression on their faces, “some clothes are made of heat resistant materials that cannot burn.   They were originally designed for use by rescue workers, but now clothing manufacturers create domestic wear in the same material.”

   “So, Rosetta, you are more than a pretty face, “Martin said with a laugh.

   “And I do have a pretty face.   So I have the best of two worlds, don’t I.   Is that not true, Joseph?   Am I not both pretty and smart?”  Rosetta felt proud of herself to be able to contribute something scientific to the conversation, her face grinning from side to side as she looked at Joseph.

“You are that, and a brave young woman as well.”   Joseph replied softly,  “You are handling the situation well for somebody that deep down feels uncomfortable in a strange and possibly dangerous environment.   I think even Martin senses the threat this place extrudes.   I know that I certainly do.   However, I wouldn’t worry too much.   I think that we are safe as we can be for the moment, but I also feel that the quicker we find the statue and get the antidote for your father, the happier we all will feel.”

   Rosetta, again in awe of Joseph’s sensitivity, moved closer to him and put her hands to his face, pulling him forward until his lips rested against hers and kissed him gently before moving back a step, then took his hands in hers as she spoke.   “Thank you for coming, Joseph.   I know with you here we will find the statue and my father will be well again.”

   Martin looked hard at his friend Rosetta as she stepped back from Joseph, and suddenly it all clicked in to place for him.   He wondered why it had taken him so long to notice the obvious.   Martin decided it was because he had never seen Rosetta so happy in all the years he had known her and her family, and this was despite the concern she had for her father’s condition, so he had no previous experience to compare the situation with.   And it was Joseph, he felt certain, that had caused this change in her.   As Martin watched her he realised Rosetta never took her eyes of him.   Rosetta had taken to Joseph like a bee to honey as far as Martin was concerned.    ‘Well,’ he thought to himself with a smile, ‘this will be an interesting few days.’

   Joseph, however, again regretting his impetuous tongue when he was with Rosetta when he felt that he should be keeping a reasonably low profile, still wasn’t satisfied about the fire.   ‘Martin, can I have the broom for a minute, please?”

   Martin handed him the broom, and Joseph proceeded to scatter the debris with the wooden end of the broom as Martin had been doing.   When he met with little success in his experiment, he pulled it back and reversed it so that he could use the straw end.   Martin had used the wooden end to prevent scattering too much of the debris that he was trying to shift through.   Joseph wanted to have a look at the carpet under the embers, but he was concerned that there may still be enough heat left in the embers to make the straw catch fire.

   Gently, he pushed the straw broom towards the blackened, smouldering debris, but as soon as the straw crossed over the edge of the circle it burst into flames as if it had been blasted with a flame gun, and within seconds there was only the wooden handle remaining in Joseph’s shaking hand.   He dropped the still smoking appliance on the floor and the three of them stared in awe as what was left of the appliance rolled across the outer ring and stopped motionless at the inside edge of the glowing embers.

   Martin bent down to retrieve the broomstick to examine it, but Joseph quickly grabbed him and pulled him back.   “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Martin.   I think that I know why we can’t see any wood in the fire.   I am uncertain what fueled the fire in the first instance, but I am fairly certain that I know what got burnt.   Come with me.”

   Rosetta and Martin followed Joseph with no idea what he had in mind.

   “I thought that I heard the sound of chickens outside when we first arrived.” Joseph said in answer to their unasked question as they marched out the door, his comment as much a question, as it was a statement.

   They paused in their tracks and listened … and eventually they could hear the sounds of chickens clucking somewhere out of sight.

   “Behind the barnyard,” Martin indicated and the three of them set off towards the rear of a large building located around one hundred odd yards from the main house, shortly arriving at a caged area where around two dozen egg-laying hens and a rooster wandered aimlessly in an area big enough to hold several hundred

   “Well they certainly look healthy enough,” Joseph stated, unlocking the gate and immediately grabbed the closest chicken by the scruff of the neck before heading straight back to the house with Martin and Rosetta in hot pursuit, painfully curious about what Joseph was going to do with the chicken, but hesitant to ask in case it had been obvious from the start and they had missed it.

   “Hopefully I will be proved wrong here,”   Joseph remarked, shedding no light of understanding on his actions, and Rosetta and Martin were uncertain whether he was talking to them, or to the squawking fowl.

   Martin and Rosetta watched in bemusement as Joseph approached the circle where he stopped about five feet outside it, swung his arm behind his back, then swung it forwards as hard and fast as he could before releasing his grip on the chicken and threw it towards the middle of the pile of embers.

   The squawking fowl flew through the air, its legs thrashing in the unaccustomed freedom of flying.   Ecstasy, it possibly thought for the briefest of time, but this intriguing interruption to its earth bound status came to an abrupt halt as a bolt of lightning screamed through the air, and the bird exploded in a ball of fire.   There was not a thing left by the time that it had travelled less than a quarter of the way to the middle of the circle, save a single feather that slowly rose – then fell as it made its way to the floor below, where it finally landed on a glowing ember.   And then it too disappeared in a puff of smoke.

   “My God,” Martin exclaimed in astonishment, “that’s not how they cook K.F.C..   Whatever baked that chicken, it was certainly not a fire … and it’s still active.   That could have been me if I had tried to pick up the remains of the broom.   Thank you, Joseph – you saved my life.   But how did you know?”

   “I really wasn’t too sure.   I just remembered something that I read by chance when I was doing some research at uni, and the conditions of spontaneous combustion seemed an acceptable explanation as to why there is nothing actually burning.   However, whatever killed the chicken, it was not spontaneous combustion in the way that I had imagined it to work, though the end result is still the same.   But whatever it was, it’s still hanging around, and it seems to have enough power to completely destroy its victims to a degree that is beyond anything that I have ever come across.   Perhaps that is what the warnings were all about.”

   “What is spontaneous combustion?” Rosetta asked, uncomprehending.

   “There is a theory that in certain conditions a human body can reach boiling point for no apparent reason, and subsequently implode.   There are reported cases world wide where bodies have been found burnt to a crisp, and yet there was no evidence of fire existing anywhere other than in their immediate environment.   Sometime even their clothes are only slightly singed.   In most cases the incidents have taken place indoors, with the rooms locked.   There are sometimes scorch marks on the walls, or ceilings, but rarely is any other damage done to the room where it happens.”

   “And you think that this is what happened here?” A bewildered Martin stared at Joseph,   “How?”

“I don’t really know.   It goes well beyond anything that I have ever studied or seen. All the cases that I have read about have only involved individuals.   No, wait, there was a report of two brothers once found dead, burnt to crisp in a room locked from the inside with absolutely no other way in or out, but if it were true I would think it to be a rarity.   I have never read anything of a ‘group’ combustion, though that doesn’t mean that such events have not occurred, I suppose.   However this case seems a little more complex.   Nobody knows what causes spontaneous combustion, nor how it actually happens … it usually takes place behind closed doors and the bodies are found after the event, not during it.      But this … this seems almost as if it was the result of an outside intervention.   The mind boggles at the thought of how much energy was released here, wherever it originated … .   And it makes it all a bit worrying when you realise that whatever caused it is still active.   It reeks of science fiction … a Martian running around with a deadly ray gun or something similar.   Where’s Big Arnie when you need him?   I am only joking, I don’t think that it is some kind of alien invasion, but I am open to the possibility it was mass murder.   But even that thought doesn’t guide us to who the victims were, why they were here, or why they were killed… and what the tie-in to Rosetta’s father and brother is.   I think that we should take care in what we do and where we go on this farm.   There could be more danger waiting for us.

   “Are you telling us that that pile of burnt rubbish are human remains?”   Rosetta asked, horrified at the thought.

   “I am sorry if this is upsetting for you, Rosetta.”   Joseph said in a soft, remorseful tone,   “I wasn’t thinking.   I could have put it more subtly.   However, I doubt there are many, if any, human remains left after seeing what happened to the chicken; but yes, maybe … I don’t really know for certain … and I am certainly not going to attempt to sift through the embers to prove it one way or another.   What I do know for certain is that this is not a normal fire, and whatever caused it is still active.   I would imagine the police and the fire fighters had no idea how lucky they were that they didn’t enter the circle.”

   “I think that you are right, Joseph.”   Martin offered, “The image of the crucifix in the mirror and the stick men were warnings.   Maybe somebody else is aware of the danger in the house.”

   “It would seem so.   But that could also mean a witness may have survived.”   Joseph agreed.

   “How horrible for them to see anything like that” Rosetta said quietly, “I feel rather ill.”

   “Let’s go outside and get some fresh air.”   Joseph suggested.

   “Please.”   Rosetta agreed, leaning hard against Joseph, her arms around his waist as the trio made their way out.   Partly for comfort, partly for physical support as Joseph’s words began to sink even deeper into her mind.

   “What do we do now?”   Martin asked as they passed through the doorway and onto the lawn,   “Do we discuss what we have seen in the house, or do we continue to search for clues to the whereabouts to the statue?”

   Joseph quickly summed up the situation.   “There wasn’t anything found in the house to help us with finding the statue, other than the diary, that is.   So I suggest that we have a look around the barn, and if we don’t find anything within a reasonable time period then we’ll try to book into a hotel in the village for the night.   Tomorrow we’ll have a really good look around the entire farm.   And I think we need to review the professor’s diary as soon as we get to the hotel.   He very well may have left some clues there, but Rosetta has already said that the diary is not in any particular order, so she will need some time to analyse it.   So the sooner we get to the hotel, the sooner she can get started.   Does everybody agree?”

   Martin nodded his head in agreement, as did Rosetta relieved to be away from the house and the gruesome thoughts and images that were manifesting themselves within her mind

   However, their plans may have been changed slightly had they been aware of a pair of wild red eyes hiding in the relative safety of the darkness within the barn that totally disagreed with their decision.

Go to Episode 24