Chasing Shadows Prologue

Chasing Shadows

Prologue

She found herself standing still, swaying slightly, her eyes wide and terrified. Her breath hitched. She turned sharply heading deeper into the trees. A rhythmic booming thumped loudly in her head. She clasped her hands over her ears and she could feel her pulse, coursing through her skull. The blackness of the forest closed in around her. Vegetation pulled at her clothes as she frantically trudged on, running, stumbling. It was still barely light outside if she dared to look up as the sun lit the tops of the trees, while the ground beneath her feet remained dark and cold. For a perilous moment she stopped, her hands clutching at her knees, trying to draw in as much breath as she could. The air was heavy with the smell of decaying leaves and smoke. She coughed and then held her breath. No noise, she scolded, willing herself not to cough again. She froze at the sound of voices approaching. Her heart lurched. She hugged her arms about her and fled, dodging branches and undergrowth with twigs snapping beneath her shoes, traitorously announcing her presence.

The blackness of the forest soon dissolved at a small clearing. She stopped cold. Which way? Her eyes darted back and forth.  Panic swept over her so violently that she shuddered.  She stepped backwards into something solid.  A hand clasped over her mouth.

Raglan Castle, 28th October 2006

The fading sunset glowed red, lengthening shadows, and bringing with it a chill in the air as the ruins of Raglan Castle rose out of the darkness. It was once a majestic fortress, whose spirits now must walk alone amongst strangers. What harrowing tales lay hidden within its ancient stone walls?  On a damp October night, murky and moonless, a mist floated in like a dream, encouraging the gathering of sceptics and believers to huddle close together. Torches ready.  It was the kind of night where even the most sceptical mind might succumb to myth and lore in the hope of catching a glimpse into the lives of those who once sheltered there.

“Do you believe in Ghosts?” a voice called from way in the back.

Kate smiled. “That’s a good question.  I guess you could say in my occupation, I live with ghosts every day.  Ghosts linked to a piece of pottery or a button from a soldier's coat. No matter how small the object, my mind never fails to summon up images of people that I will never know, whose memories are… sadly forgotten.”

Kate was quite pleased with her improvised answer, one that would keep the believers and sceptics equally satisfied, because she truly never believed in ghosts herself.  After only returning to Raglan a few weeks prior, she’d already felt the familiar tug at her heart, the very same tug she felt as a child playing amongst the ruins. She was tired of living out of suitcases, moving from place to place, going from one lonely dig to another.  Coming back to Raglan was something she’d avoided for years and it was now time; time to concentrate on living in the present for there was nothing she could do to change the past. Being asked to lead a ghost walk was just what she needed to feel a part of things again.

The group of visitors who stood before her hung on her every word.  They had come for a night of ghostly tales and she was determined that they would get what they paid for. It was time to begin.

“We all know the feeling, that cold prickly sensation that starts on the back of your neck. The moment when your heart begins to beat a bit faster and you feel a breath of cold air that makes you erupt in gooseflesh, but it isn’t the weather. That sense of knowing that someone is there, but you’re alone.  You feel movement behind you and you turn, only to catch a glimpse of a passing shadow.”

Suddenly, a shriek erupted from one of the visitors stood in the back, sporting a red waterproof, as a colleague armed with a long goose feather lightly touched her legs. Everyone turned around to see the woman red faced and giggling. A soft chuckle floated amongst the group.

“Or maybe it’s something familiar about a place you’ve never been before. A sense of knowing but you can’t quite put your finger on it and it hovers just out of reach in your conscious mind. We’ve all experienced these feelings at some point in our lives, but what are they?  Could they be restless spirits who are tied to this earth because of mistakes they’ve made? Or maybe they have left something undone?  Are spirits drawn to certain people or places, destined to exist only in the shadows because the heavens have refused them entry?”

“Tonight I want to take you back, back to a time hundreds of years ago when our country stood divided. When towns stood against the King, the King against Parliament and brothers fought brothers…” 

copyright Luanne Uttley