Dead Village by Gerry Tate Page A

edge of the village, and as she stared into the dark forest, she called Tully’s name.
    The storm was getting worse, as a fierce wind blew around her, and Francis was very concerned. When she had come around in the hall she had started to remember things, dangerous things abut demons in the forest. Tully may be in danger, she thought. But just where the hell is he? She checked her watch.
    â€œEleven forty eight,” she groaned. “Why it’s almost midnight!”
    A roar of thunder once more shook the forest.
    â€œTully,” she shouted again.
    Francis didn’t see the two figures slowly creep up behind her. They had followed her from the pub with determination.
    â€œTully, Tully,” a voice behind her mocked loudly.
    She spun around.
    It was Madge, Tully’s ex wife, and she was accompanied by her friend Erin. They had followed her, and now she was cornered.
    â€œWell if it isn’t the little husband stealer,” Madge hissed, her face twisted with rage.
    â€œI stole no one,” Francis snapped angrily. “You decided to leave Tully for another man, and left him broken. You didn’t care one bit about him then, and I don’t really think you care about him now.”
    â€œI think I should be the judge of that,” Madge spat.
    Francis reeled on her, unable to hide the anger in her voice. She loved Tully, and no one was going to take him from her.
    â€œTully doesn’t need you Madge. He’s pulled himself together and is all the better a man for it. He has me now, and we’re both very happy together. So why don’t you just leave us alone and get on with your life?”
    â€œWhy you cheap little slut,” Madge shouted, as she attacked Francis, swinging her small white crocodile skin bag toward her face. “I’ll fucking kill you, you whore.”
    Francis was still feeling groggy from the fall down the stairs. But she wasn’t frightened. She was confident that she could take the older woman. She had been attacked a few times before in her roll as a police officer, and had been well trained for it.
    The bag grazed Francis on her cheek and Madge grabbed at her hair, but Francis twisted her arm and pushed her face deep into a hedge.
    â€œGet off me you bitch,” Madge yelled.
    Then as Francis stood over Madge, she felt a heavy blow to the back of her head, and she fell to the ground, bleeding.
    Through her haze she could see Erin, heavy branch in hand. Erin had done this, and now the two women stood over her, sneering down.
    â€œGive me that,” Madge ordered, as she clutched the heavy piece of branch from Erin’s hand.
    â€œSo you want to play rough do you?” Madge spat. “Well I’m going to show you just what the fucking word rough means.”
    Just then something behind the women moved from left to right, and Francis stared in horror at the giant figure behind them. It moved silently and slowly toward them, head moving quickly from side to side. Something was in its hand, something small. It was a little bears head.
    It was Mr Cliff. Francis felt sure he had come to save her, and now the memory of her husband came flooding back. Back then Mr Cliff had brought a demon. A demon that had taken her demented violent husband away.
    Mr Cliff had saved her then, and Mr Cliff was going to save her now. The two women didn’t see the creature move slowly behind them.
    â€œDie, you slut,” Madge yelled, as she raised the branch to strike. Francis looked to Erin for some compassion, but there was none to be had, as Erin smirked hatefully at her.
    It was Erin who saw the creature first, and as she screamed, they both spun around to face it. Madge dropped the branch and walked slowly backward, toward Francis.
    â€œMother of God,” she groaned.
    â€œHelllooo,” the little teddy bears head said to Francis.
    â€œMr Cliff, you came to help me again. Thank you Mr Cliff, oh thank you,” Francis