by Mark Cox
Chapter 2: The Forest of Blood and Muder
Andrew was spending time equating a few matters in Brighton, when I offered him the chance to go on a camping expedition with two friends John, Karen and myself. I was thrilled at the prospect of writing some memoirs of the trip in true Dr. Watson-Sherlock Holmes style as I had not even a memoir before. However I enquired into the area we were staying:
“So what’s the plan?” I asked John.
“Well we camp in the Forest of Blood and Murder on Tuesday night and the next day we meet up with Rachel the park ranger, who will show us the best areas in the forest for sightseeing.”
“Er is there any history to this Forest of Blood and Murder? Like in the name perhaps?”
“Oh yes, legend has it that whoever visits the Forest of Blood and Murder will be killed in very gory circumstances.”
“Um, er, I couldn’t possibly go. You see, er, I’ve got these new shoes which I haven’t broken in, so um I’ve got these foot blisters and it would only hamper our progress.”
Andrew however, decided to proceed with John and Karen on the expedition and so on Tuesday night they had camped and settled down around the fire. It was a beautiful night without a cloud in the sky the stars were magnificent even the full moon could not obscure their brilliance.
“And so,” John explained “Tomorrow morning we walk the ten miles or so to the rangers hut, I hope that everyone will be up to it.”
Andrew merely smiled at the comment, too intent in taking in the fantastic surroundings, whatever happened tomorrow was tomorrow. He might as well enjoy this night while he could. But what neither he or his colleagues ever knew, was that this was going to be a night TO REMEMBER!!!
Meanwhile at the Ranger’s hut, Rachel had just taken a bath and was drying herself in front of the cosy log fire. In the background a radio was playing a selection of music by Chopin which was suddenly interrupted by a bulletin.
“Police are warning the public to be on the lookout for a convicted killer on the run from the Group 4 run Parkhurst Prison. The man is 28 years old, five foot six and has dark brown hair. Anyone seeing the suspect is well advised to stay well clear and contact the local authorities. And now a gale warning. Gail!! Get out of the flat the wife’s comin’ home!!”
Suddenly there was a crack of broken twigs from outside the hut. Rachel quickly slipped on a dressing gown and some slippers. She considered taking the shotgun with her, but decided against it as it seemed unnecessary. She unbolted the door and stepped out into the night.
“Hello? Who’s there? I know there’s someone out here.” she called out and then noticed a shadow moving towards her, “Excuse me, you are trespassing on private AAARRRGGGGHHH!!!!!”
John looked up with a start. “What was that?” he asked with a touch of fear in his voice, interrupting Andrew’s conversation of the properties of aryl amines.
“What was what?” replied Karen thinking John was playing a joke.
“It sounded like a scream.” answered John now with a look of concern on his face.
“Oh don’t talk like that John, you’re scaring me now.”
“Good Grief!!” Andrew declared, “there’s something moving around in the forest about eight miles away. I’ll go and investigate.”
“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” pleaded Karen.
“No I must go.” Andrew insisted, “I’ll take this thimble with me for protection.”
But alas for Andrew, like so many other poor souls before him, failed to listen to the accompanying music. As he walked deeper into the forest the music became more terrifying and it was inevitable he was a goner. Personally I would have run in the direct opposite direction until I heard Beethoven’s Fifth ’Pastoral’ Symphony. However Andrew decided that he was going to really go against all odds and proceeded deeper into the woods with the whole orchestra following him. That is until the psyco screeching of the strings started to get on his nerves.
“Will you cellos shut up!! I’m trying my best to find my way, and you lot just...Oh!! Oh so you are an axe murderer. That’s alright. JOHN!! KAREN!! IT’S ALRIGHT!! IT IS A AXEMAN!! I thought you may have been a badger. Ha ha ha.” THHHHWWWWWWRPPPPPP!!!!!
“Oh. Centre Parting.”
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