Hills of the North Ch. 01
Set in a quaint North-western hamlet on the slopes of Pendle Hill, Worston is known for its historical significance connecting to witchcraft and Pendle Witch tales. Secluded amidst rolling hills, real-life locations such as St. Peter's CE Parish Church form the backdrop of this eerie tale to come. With origins in the 19th century, Worston Old Hall holds several decorative shields originating from Sawley Abbey.
Amidst the storm-filled skies, work at the church came to a halt as gigantic cracks of lightning tore through the clouds. Shiny cars stood out from the gloom illuminated briefly before the storm approached.
"Seems time to wrap things up, reverend," yelled a rugged construction worker in high-visibility clothing with a Northern accent. "A massive downpour is heading our way."
Reverend Graham Hosking glanced anxiously towards the darkening sky. "Indeed, this is quite unusual, as if seeking vengeance for something."
The worker shook his head nonchalantly. "You think so? Maybe connected to those bones they dug up last week?" He packed up his tools and lit a cigarette.
"Yes, thank you, Greg." Reverend Hosking replied, before retreating back into the church.
The church grounds had undergone extensive remodeling for weeks, replacing old pipes that had been in desperate need of replacement. Unfortunately, the construction was disrupted by the disturbance of a skeleton buried not far from the churchyard. Tests later confirmed the remains dated back a hundred years. The deceased was identified as a 21-year-old woman named Caroline; no other information was available.
During the past few nights, Reverend Hosking had been besieged by bizarre dreams - a woman consumed by flames, monstrous nightmares of a disembodied head at an altar, blood-stained knives. In the peaceful sanctuary of the church, the vicar read the application for the pipe repairs handed by the worker.
Tucked away in a corner of Worston, St. Peter's CE Parish Church peppered the landscape, serving as home to some peculiar events. Alice, the 43-year-old church organist, observed the vicar in his stillness, almost as if he had become a statue. "Such a cute little man," she thought, yet whenever he stood that still and fixed his gaze, the strange atmosphere surrounded him made him appear almost lifeless.
Chapter 1. Caribou Jelly
Part I:
Reverend Hosking, a tall, trim man with salt and pepper hair, a thoughtful gaze, and a quiet demeanor, was perplexed by the recent discovery of human remains on the outskirts of St. Peter's Parish Church. Greg, the foreman, had just finished sharing his theory about the landscape's mysterious hidden past. Now he couldn't shake off the trickling sense of dread that had begun to permeate his days in this sleepy little village. He slept fitfully and at times, he dreamt about a woman dying in a fire, her face twisted in terror, leaving a trail of ashes behind. At other times, he witnessed a decapitated head resting on an altar, the sight of it so shocking it left his skin crawling. Strangest of all, he dreamt about the sight of something that looked like a butcher's knife, stained with blood.
The next morning, as he was taking a stroll through the village, he could not shake off the lingering sense of unease. As if all his worries had been wiped off, he came across a small hole in the ground, filled with rocks and some long, tangled vines. Intrigued, he knelt down next to it and gently lifted the rocks, revealing a box covered in dusty cobwebs. As he brushed away the spider webs and peered inside, his eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
The events May of 1841.
It was nearing the end of dynasties. Our story follows a young and rather ordinary man drawn into a series of events that shaped the destinies of those around him.
Chapter 1: Hellfire Bitten
Part I:
Harry Headlam, a young vicar in his early thirties, educated and only child, was new to the village. But alas, his boredom was about to end. One morning, he discovered a long, narrow space between two very heavy stones, concealed by overgrown ivy. After pushing them aside, he stumbled upon some relics; dates from the 18th century. He carefully unearthed a few bones, layered under the rocks, and even found the remnants of a small casket. In his curiosity, he opened it to find many things.
The casket's contents revealed the last will and testament of Mr. John Waddy, a vicar who had lived in the 1700s, and his housekeeper, Ethel Taylor, who had died in the year 1653. He didn't give much thought to it and laid the items back in the casket before shutting it and replacing the rock. After returning the stones to their original positions, he continued his day.
Later that day, Hannah, his maid, brought in some coffee. They often had conversations about everything ranging from politics to farm life, she and Harry. This afternoon was no different. However, Harry's tone revealed that he wasn't in his usual jovial mood. Hannah, sensing his somberness, asked him what was troubling him, but surely she never prepared for what she was about to learn. A strange, dark secret festered beneath the innocent surface - Harry revealed the finding of the casket with its peculiar connections to the current lowliness facing St. Peter's Parish.
The Reverend Hosking was a rather old-fashioned young English gentleman, resembling someone from the 1950s. He was just thirty years old but appeared more like someone from a different era altogether. His meticulous grooming was on par with that of a gent from a bygone era - he was clean-shaven with watery blue eyes and had just had his blonde hair meticulously combed by a skilled barber. He shared a resemblance to the actor Dan Stevens who for the first time had played the role of Matthew Crawley in Downton Abbey. His attire consisted of a perfectly clean cassock and a spotless surplice, and his black shoes shone brightly.
Having taken up his position at St. Peter's sometime in 2022, he replaced the previous vicar, Rev. Ashley Dickinson, notably following the end of the global crisis caused by a pandemic. In this small, peaceful part of England, he managed to create a niche for himself as a gentleman serving the church and God well. While at first appearance, Reverend Hosking might have appeared to be somewhat prim or even prudish, his smiling nature, coupled with his genuine desire to serve the community and his hospitality despite his reserved demeanor, had easily won Alice over. But one thing about the vicar was certain - he was a tad shy when it came to matters of the heart. Being single had nothing wrong with it; however, he came across as surprisingly reserved, almost like he could be a closeted individual. In the current more enlightened times, Alice was hoping this wasn't the case.
Upon catching the glimpse of the organist's curious gaze, the reverend then turned, offering her a warm smile. He was not her usual type of attraction, but he had a unique appeal to him she couldn't quite overlook.
"We do not have too many at the morning Eucharist," Reverend Hosking eventually broke the silence, after switching off his phone and packing up his papers. "Although the weekday Eucharist is hardly ever well-attended, I blame the changeable weather. You better head home, Alice, as a storm's coming in. Country roads can be dangerous."
As she finished compiling the music books away and switched off the organ's lamp, Alice responded, "I'm only about half a mile away from my house. The Sunday service should have plenty of attendees as it's the Feast of St. George."
The door to the vestry opened afterward, revealing Ray Hilton, the curate, in his fifties. A stout gentleman with glasses and thick, grey hair, Ray was neither particularly good-looking nor unattractive but made up for it with a quirky charm that attracted women of different ages. He'd commenced his career in the church after having worked for years in the IT sector prior, going through two divorces, which he claimed had "helped him rediscover his faith" and leading him to his new career path.
At this point, Reverend Hosking raised an eyebrow as he observed Ray chatting to the organist. He wasn't sure about what Ray had been whispering, but he could tell Alice was amused by it based on her laughter.
"See you later, Ray," Alice then reminded him, rising from the organ stool and trying to act calm. The curate replied with a wink and slapped her plump backside when the vicar's attention was elsewhere. Alice let out a 'yelp' and hurried down the aisle with more enthusiasm than usual.
"See you on Sunday, Vicar!"
"Do come again, Alice. Thanks for playing," he responded, about to make his way to the vestry.
"No," Ray then said, voicing his different opinion. "God will forgive me. You've got to affirm - she's a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places."
"It's not within the church, Ray," Reverend Hosking advised him. He couldn't stand the curate most times and tolerated him mostly because he wasn't in a position to do anything about it.
"So just pray for her," the curate cheekily replied, assuming a sarcastic posture. "Tonight, I'd give her a special organ to play. A nine-inch one!"
Pastor Hosking hastened to his vehicle. The torrential, wind-driven rain hammered his face mercilessly. By the time he got to his car, his hair was plastered to his scalp. He carefully navigated his way home through the rain-sodden country path. The typical journey to the vicarage usually took only five minutes. The only sounds were the whistling hiss of the tires on the wet pavement and the rhythmic clapping of the windshield wipers. He leaned slightly forward, near the steering wheel, squinting through the streaming rain. As he neared Clitheroe Town, Pastor Hosking slowed down, alert and careful. He was proud of being an attentive driver. Other drivers seemed way too aggressive for his taste.
Then, out of nowhere, a young woman stepped onto the road, directly in front of his vehicle.
"Shit!" Pastor Hosking exclaimed, pressing the brake pedal so hard he nearly lost his seat. The woman looked up, terrified, as the brakes screamed and the car narrowly missed her.
"Oh my God!" Pastor Hosking parked his car alongside the road and rolled down the window. "Are you alright? Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" He was shocked by how stunning the woman was, mid-twenties or so, despite her messy hair and rain-streaked face. Her beauty seemed to emanate from her. This enigmatic lady had some kind of effect on him, leaving him speechless.
"I'm okay," the woman responded. "That was reckless of me as well. Sorry for the trouble...Pastor," she said, noticing his clerical collar.
After stuttering for a moment, he found his voice again. "Uh...no problem. Please continue on your way. Do you have an umbrella?"
"No," she shrugged, "but I'm almost home. With all this rain, I must look terrible!"
"Oh, nothing like that. I happen to think you're really beautiful." He blushed as he spoke, feeling foolish for saying such a cringy thing in modern times. Before he could further embarrass himself, he apologized and sped away, his cheeks burning. He thought he saw her walking along the sidewalk but couldn't be sure.
"What? Where did she go?" He wondered. "She couldn't have just disappeared, right? There were only fields on both sides of the road. His train of thought was interrupted by a honk from the impatient driver behind him.
By the time Pastor Hosking arrived at the vicarage, the storm raged on. He hoped Alice, Ray, and the mysterious woman he almost hit on the road had all made it home safely. After a shower, he made dinner in the kitchen, his thoughts returning to the beautiful stranger. He couldn't shake off the memory of her and questioned why she made such an impact on him. He didn't believe in love at first sight. Lust, yes. Love, though, was something that developed slowly, wasn't it? He had no personal experience in either.
The lightning illuminated the kitchen for a moment, dimming the lights. His gaze was drawn to the window beside the sink. On the back lawn, the trees seemed to twist and dance under the flashing stormlight, so that it appeared he saw the trees' reflections on the surface of a lake. Instantly, another movement caught his attention, something that hastily emerged from behind a thick oak tree, crossed a patch of open grass, and vanished behind a cluster of lilacs. For a split second, he thought he glimpsed a human face.
"What in the world was that?" He muttered aloud. "Must have been a trick of light."
His next thought was that it had been a dog. Most likely Bruno, a lovable brindle Boxer dog that belonged to the Morrisons, a family living across from the vicarage.
Pastor Hosking shook his head. Not a chance. They wouldn't let Bruno out in such weather. They spoiled him rotten. On the other hand, he could have escaped and wandered into Pastor's backyard. Maybe he should go check.
The image he saw in the shadows - the slightly twisted, moon-pale face of a woman, lightning glimmering in her eyes, her mouth twisted in a snarl of fury or hate - had to be a play of light and shadow. Still, this encounter left him with a faint unease.
After spending the day working on his sermon and clearing out a stack of church emails, Pastor Hosking turned on the radio and listened to Classic FM. Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #2 in C Minor, with its soothing tunes, eased away any lingering tension.
The storm had eased by the time Alice knocked on the vicarage door. [END]
Hey Ray! I knew the rain wouldn't dampen your spirits!
"Hey, it takes a lot more than rain to put me off," he replied with a grin, as she led him inside.
"So, would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" Alice inquired.
"A whiskey would be nice," Ray agreed.
Ray took off his glasses and sat on the couch, keeping a close eye on Alice as she went to the kitchen. Since joining St. Peter's, he'd always had a crush on Alice, but due to her being in a sexless marriage with Mike, he'd kept it hidden. But recently, she'd started responding to his flirtatious advances.
"So, Mike's away for a few days, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah, until Tuesday. He's attending some sort of vacuum cleaner convention in Milton Keynes."
"Sounds like a dream vacation!" Ray joked to himself.
Having visited the vicarage often for work, Ray had grown quite familiar with Alice. And he knew she trusted him, having once overheard her telling the vicar that she liked "Reverend Hilton very much."
His heart beat faster as he remembered that exchange. It was time to show her just how charming and desirable he could be. Looking over, he saw her reaching up into the cupboard. She was wearing a plain white blouse and floral-print skirt. With her curves in all the right places, her figure was simply stunning. She'd never had kids, so her slender, toned legs were a visual treat. Seeing her without her children made him imagine her naked, his mind filled with vivid images.
"Alice, you are breathtaking. I can't believe my luck."
"Nervous?" she teased.
"As hell. But I'll hold off until the right moment," he muttered to himself. "Lord, give me the strength to control myself."
Placing the whiskey in his hand, she sat down in the armchair opposite him. He caught a glimpse of her cleavage as she did so. Almost losing control, he swiftly averted his gaze.
"Mike seems distracted lately," Ray observed. "Might've had something to do with that skeleton they found, eh?"
"Yes, it certainly shook him," Alice replied. "The vicar's really hurt about it. It's like it triggered something deep inside him."
"Hard to read, huh?" Ray remarked, taking a sip of his drink.
"You have no idea," Alice confessed. Despite her assurances that he wasn't her type, Ray sensed an underlying attraction between them. "He needs someone to love."
"You really think so?"
"Absolutely. He's just lacking the courage to show it. And no, not that way."
"I know what you mean," he said with a chuckle. "And you're never going to believe this, but he reminded me of an iceberg after hearing that."
"I bet he's not used to being around people who are real human beings."
"Sometimes, I feel like I'm the Titanic."
"The vicar's not that bad," Alice chuckled. "And I do like him. I just wish he'd open up."
"You know what they say, sometimes you've got to help people out."
Alice leaned in and rested a hand on Ray's shoulder. "Time to show me how bad you can be."
"I'm always happy to comply," he grinned, embracing her. The primal urge to express his sexuality could no longer be contained.
"Give me all you've got," she whispered seductively.
He pulled her close and they kissed passionately, both burning with desire. Alice slid her tongue into his mouth and twirled it around his lips and gums. Ray traced his hands up under her skirt, feeling the warmth of her body against his. He found her panties and rubbed gently against her mound, tracing the contours of her womanhood.
"Holy shit," she gasped.
"Do you like that, Alice?" he asked confidently. "Would you like me to continue?"
"Oh yes, Ray," she murmured.
Ray realized that this type of foreplay was novel to her. He rolled his eyes. After eight years of marriage, Mike hadn't treated his wife to anything like this. He intended to demonstrate what she had missed. He continued to finger her, taking pleasure in her little moans as he gently caressed her clit before inserting a finger into her satin folds. He removed her soaked white panties and moved down on her. His tongue had a special purpose to fulfill. Alice was delightfully moist between her legs, just as he expected; she didn't let him down. He slid his tongue past her plump lips, savoring her fluids, as she cried out for more.
He'd never been this aroused for a while and his cock throbbed painfully within his trousers, demanding to be free. He gripped her curvy white thighs and quickly brought her to orgasm as he licked her.
"Oh Ray...oh God yes!" She cried, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
Ray said nothing but smiled broadly at her. He undid his belt, then unzipped his black trousers. Alice's face turned red as he lowered these and his underpants; she had assumed he'd be big, but didn't expect him to be this well-endowed.
He could tell from her expression that she liked what she saw. He gripped his member tightly, rubbing it slowly. "You're so good at playing the church organ. When I see you play, I often wonder what your nimble fingers would feel like...on my organ."
The sight of Ray's hard cock had her nearly drooling. "Then let me play it for you!"
Moving closer, he pushed his massive, sweaty penis close to her face. Alice took the shaft in her hands and teased him a little, running her index finger around the head.
"God, it's a beauty, Ray. You've got a beast between your legs."
She naturally opened up to taste him. Sweet and manly. Her hands quickly fastened around his hips, pulling him closer to her face, shoving his cock deeper into her mouth, until his wiry grey pubes brushed her nose.
"That's it Ray...feels fucking amazing!" he sighed.
"You taste fucking amazing," Alice said, withdrawing and licking up every drop of pre-cum. She wasn't one to use profanity, and even Ray was temporarily stunned by her boldness. Ray spread his legs, took her head in his hand and guided her to his penis. Alice opened her mouth wide and greedily started to suck it again. She looked up to him, his eyes closed and head tilted back moaning softly, "Oh, Ray. Keep on doing it...please."
Hearing those words, she started sucking wildly on it. His breathing became heavily labored as well as his moaning when suddenly Ray lifted her head off his cock. The next thing she knew, she was on her back with him between her legs lifting them skyward.
"Well...do you want me to?"
She nodded. "Desperately."
He entered her without delay, his hardness sliding into her wet cave without resistance. She could accommodate him completely, yet her walls remained pleasingly tight. He moaned as she gripped his cock like this and began thrusting rapidly, digging his fingernails into the edges of the couch as he anchored her well. Ray had an endless supply of stamina.
"That's it Alice, shout for me, don't hold back," he grunted, loving her moans of pleasure. "You are blessed."
Alice couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced such satisfying sex. Not with her husband, that she was sure of.
"Come for me, Alice," the curate murmured, and that propelled her over the edge. She surrendered herself to him fully and climaxed a second time. A few moments later, he climaxed also, filling her with his semen.
"Oh Alice..." He sighed as he withdrew from her, leaning down to kiss her lips. "Do you feel better now?"
"Yes Ray," she breathed. "Except for one thing."
"What's that?"
"Could you wear your cassock and surplice next time?"
"You kinky woman," he chuckled. His heart swelled at the mention of a "next time." He had prayed that this wouldn't be a one-time encounter. "I'm sure that can be arranged!"
Meanwhile, Reverend Hosking went to bed in a restless state, uncertain how to address his current state. He wished his aching erection would subside, but it showed no sign of letting up. He slipped under the covers, grateful for his comfortable bed. Though yearning for sleep, Reverend Hosking was unable to relax, for his stiff penis showed no signs of calming down. He pondered his predicament.
It was true that the priest had a fondness for the ladies - like most men. The problem was, he was atrocious when it came to dating women. His extreme shyness and indecision put them off.
Although the curate's inappropriate actions irritated him a great deal, Reverend Hosking also admired the man's ability to flirt effortlessly with women. He wished he had a sliver of Ray's self-assurance. Becoming a priest could've been the perfect career choice for him; he wouldn't have to worry about finding a suitable woman to marry the vicar. However, the thought of a celibate life didn't stir much excitement either. Despite being celibate, Reverend Hosking hadn't yet broken his virginity. His parents were devout Anglicans, and his father still held antiquated biases against Catholics.
Reverend Hosking inhaled, removed the quilt, and undid his underwear, holding his erection. He began to stimulate himself. A subtle moan escaped his lips as he stroked his member once more, forcing the pre-cum out and coating the head with it.
Then he thought about the woman in the rain caressing him.
A shiver ran down his staff, intensifying its sensitivity, making his toes cramp and his breath escape as a whisper. He tightened his grip and stroked faster. His cock bounced against his palm, slick with his secretions and he pulled his hand up, forcefully squeezing the root before stroking back down. He felt his climax approaching, hot and tempting, wrapping around the base of his spine and straining him.
He couldn't draw breath; the sensation was so overwhelming that he couldn't help but utter strokes. "Oh God! Oh...oh yes!"
His staff jerked in his hand and he came; thick bursts of his semen spewed forth, each punctuated by a short moan. After the fourth, he inhaled deeply and relaxed his hand. Exhaustion.
Shortly after, he could breathe easily once more. What an experience! It both terrified and amused him. His erection gradually receded. He gazed down, noticing the generous and sticky discharge of his seed across his stomach. Grabbing a tissue, Reverend Hosking wiped himself clean, ensuring all the semen was removed. Feeling cleaned, he snuggled back in bed.
After uttering a rapid prayer to ask God for permission, sleep overtook him like a monstrous wave, and he spent the majority of the night in serene repose. Just before daybreak, he was consumed by a terrible nightmare where he was engulfed by flames. He writhed in bed, grasping the duvet and inhaling smoke. Screaming for help, he opened his eyes and woke up.
The room remained dark.
By now, the recollection of the nightmare had started to fade; only tidbits of it remained, and each faded as if it were a piece of ice. His only retention was that he'd been in a blazing structure and heard a woman screaming in fear.
Then there was blood, so much blood. The church interior seemed to be bleeding, with a generous amount dripping from every pillar and pew in multiple streams.
"What a grisly nightmare," he gasped, as his heart rate eased.
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