“Hey there young Fella, are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes thanks…. thank you, sir, I have a lot of difficult situations to sort out, but thanks for asking”. Mike replied.
“Is it the Drink….?” the Barman hadn’t finished speaking.
“Oh! No” Mike assured him. “Not nearly had enough to be getting like that yet”.
“Well, that’s okay then”. The Barman said in a caring manner.
Mike leaned across the Bar top and offered his hand to the Barman.
“The name is Mike, Mike Parris, I am a musician, and yourself?”
“Glenn Haskins, I’ve been the Proprietor here for nine years.” He said proudly.
“Me Missus and I lives upstairs”. As he beckoned to the ceiling above.
“May I trouble you for a sheet of Paper and a Pen please Glenn?” Mike asked politely.
“Yes, by all means”. Glenn fumbled about under the counter and shortly produced some Paper, then unexpectedly he pulled a Pen from behind his Right Ear and offered it to Mike. Appreciatively, Mike thanked him.
Mike took the Paper and Pen, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, the bustling sounds of the Pub fading into the background as he focused.
“Why thank you!” he continued, “I have to organise what I have to do, always do this best on Paper first”.
“Goodo!” Said Glenn cheerily. “I’ve more Customers to serve, I’ll get you another Lager in a few Minutes, okay.”
“That will be fine, Thanks!” Mike answered.
As Mike wrote, the clinking of glasses and the low chatter filled the air, but in that moment, it was just him and the page to jot down these anomalies he has been experiencing.
Holding the Paper Flat, Mike started to write down names. ' Patrick Greniere -Abducted. Mark Evans-Abducted. Neil Sills-Abducted. Mike Parris-Abducted. Lars Oblika, Jellsius IV, Fengus, and the Shadow man. The Apartment: The Black Guitar Pick/ clean and Folded Clothing/ that Weird and exotic Gown /Missing Black Guitar—but not Robbed? My Burns of skins?
Mike wrote the words, ‘Abducted’ in reference to the four of their names and then jots down what he must do tomorrow.
- To see his old Boss. 2) Hook-up with his Landlord (who only lives 2 Houses up the road from his place). And 3) Go to his Bank to review his financial state.
Unbeknownst to Mike, all three of these last Errands will end up shocking the hell out of him. As Mike penned his thoughts, a weight settled on his shoulders, each name evoking a meaning that felt like a Puzzle piece from a larger, sinister picture. He paused, glancing at Glenn, who observed him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“Looks serious”, Glenn remarked, leaning in slightly.
“Just some… friends I need to look into”, Mike replied, his voice low. “And some loose ends to tie up.”
The Pub’s lively atmosphere contrasted starkly with Mike’s turmoil, but he felt a strange resolve building within him. Tomorrow promised revelations, and he braced himself for whatever awaited him.
Glenn the Barman promptly returned to place a Pint of Cold Lager running over with liquid on top of the Bar, it was dripping some Head Foam, which ran down the glass and blotted out some of Mike’s notes.
“Oh! I am sorry Mate!” Exclaimed Glenn sorrowfully.
“Let me wipe this up for ya”.
With that gesture, Glenn moved the Pint Glass away, and with a cloth, padded the Beer spots dry on Mike’s Note Paper. Some word caught Glenn’s eye….
“I can read better upside down than a lot of men can read right side up. Is that word ‘Abducted’?” Glenn asked. “It’s none of my business mind”.
“Well yes, these Men WERE abducted, some quite nearby”. Mike answered.
Glenn turning the Paper around, where he read, ’Patrick Greniere -Abducted & into white light’.
“I knew Greniere, he was from France. He was here studying as a foreign student and making some extra money on the side as a Guitarist. Patrick was a pretty good one. Or so I have heard”.
“Yes, he is”.…. Mike replied.
“You know him too?? Glenn seemed surprised. “His Band played my Pub many months ago. He was playing up in the Camden Area and during a Break. He went back to their Van for a Smoke. I hear that a white Light took him. Some other people saw it and came running to help him. The Light had then vanished, and so had he. He has been missing for many months past now. Glenn was visibly alarmed.
Mike felt a chill run down his spine at Glenn’s words. “I didn’t know it had been that long”, he said. Struggling to process the implications. The mention of the white light sent a shiver through him, it echoed with the strange experience that had possibly befallen himself, but not fully believed. What was happening to Mike?
“Yeah, it’s strange,” Glenn continued, his voice lowering as if the topic were taboo. “Some folks in the area say it’s connected to those strange happenings up north-disappearances, lights in the sky. You don’t hear much about it, but whispers go around.
Mike’s Heart raced. “You think it’s all connected? Patrick, Mark…and the others?”
Glenn nodded gravely. “Could be. If you’re looking into it…for your friends…you’d best be careful. This City has its shadows, and not all of them are friendly.”
Taking a deep breath, Mike knew he had to uncover the truth. How he got here, got back…and from where, or what? He had finished his notes, his determination hardening.
“Thanks for the heads-up Glenn. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
Glenn gave him a measured look, as if trying to gauge Mike’s resolve. “Just remember, mate, sometimes curiosity can lead to places you don’t want to go.”
With a nod, Mike took a long drink from the Pint of Lager in front of him, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
“So, Mike, how did you know of him?”
Mike thought quickly at this time, it was best to tell as close to the truth as possible.
“I was in a Band with him”, he continued…”Not that Band the night he disappeared though. Musicians in this area, working ones, you see, it is a small community we have. We get to see and meet others like us …doing their things at Gigs. Word gets around if a Band needs someone new or is breaking up and other Bands will try to gobble up the disintegrating membership. Or not. It is like that in the small knit Music Community”. Mike explained.
Glenn chimed in.
“I see YOUR OWN name is on there as ‘Abducted’ too? –Well, you are here standing in front of me now- so how do you explain that?”
“It is a long Story Glenn”. Mike said.
“Not the same Abductors. Besides- I am on the Run! And must sort things out with my old Boss, my Landlord & my Bank, to” ...
… (he Whispers) …,
…Go to see a Family Member in Wales, to lay low…. SSHHH!”.
Glenn raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “On the run, eh? That sounds serious, Mike. You sure you want to dive deeper into all this?”
Mike nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “I have to. I can’t just leave things unresolved, especially with what happened to Patrick and the others.”
“Fair enough,” Glenn replied, concern etched on his face. “Just remember, sometimes the past has a way of catching up to you, no matter how far you run.”
With a sigh, Mike leaned back, the coolness of the bar contrasting with the growing warmth in his chest from the lager. “I know, but I need to try. I owe it to them—and to myself, to find answers.”
Glenn watched him for a moment before breaking the tension. “Alright then, just keep your head on straight. If you need anything while you’re sorting it all out, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Glenn,” Mike said, feeling a flicker of gratitude amidst the chaos. “I might just take you up on that.”
The several Lagers were starting to take an effect on him now.
Mike continued…
” It is there I shall hopefully find my Peace, my peace to all”.
“Are you in Trouble? Do you need the help of the Police Mike?” Glenn said very concernedly.
“Thanks, but No, there is little they could do. The problem is beyond their Control and Powers”. Mike stated Bluntly.
He continues,
“They, my friends, are all in likelihood, asleep anyways, and on their way to another Gig…. travelling”.
“Travelling! Like Gypsies? Then, they are safe? “Glenn inquired.
“Yes, well not quite, but they are safe, well cared for and have many Instruments to play at their disposal – BUT … I ….am FREE!”
Mike continued.
“Tomorrow, I shall see my Landlord, My Ex-Boss, and a Bank Manager, and, if there is time, I will look up a Girlfriend of one of the Abducted Band Members”.
Glenn seemed Intrigued.
Mike continued….
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll get these things sorted tomorrow…. And pop in here at some point, around this same time and tell you how it went.”
“You’re on Mate! Snapped Glenn. “I will look forward to seeing how you made out”.
“Great!” Said Mike. “Now I had better Drink up here before the Lager gets warm…. For tomorrow, I shall make my ‘Peace to all’”.
Glenn nodded, his expression softening. “Just don’t go getting yourself mixed up in something dangerous, alright? This town has its secrets, and not all of them are meant to be uncovered.”
Mike met his gaze, a mix of determination and apprehension swirling within him. “I appreciate the warning. But if there’s even a chance to find out what happened to Patrick..to Mark and Neil. I have to take it.”
As the afternoon wore on, the pub’s atmosphere pulsed with laughter and music, but for Mike, it felt like a world apart. He finished his pint, the liquid courage fueling his resolve.
“Speaking of secrets,” he said, suddenly curious, “have you heard anything about the other names on my list? Mark Evans or Neil Sills?”
Glenn leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Not much about Mark, but Neil—he used to play down here sometimes. Rumor has it he got caught up in some strange happenings before he vanished. Folks say he was last seen near the old railway tracks, before the Foot Tunnel.”
Mike’s heart raced. Old, disused Railway tracks—but the Foot Tunnel! he’d heard whispers of odd lights and strange figures near there. “I need to check that place out, I already know about the Foot Tunnel, better avoid that particular place,” he said, his mind racing with anxieties.
“Just be careful, Mike,” Glenn cautioned again. “If you’re going after the truth, you might not like what you find.”
“Yeah, but I have to try,” Mike replied, a flicker of resolve in his eyes. With that, he stood up, feeling the weight of the night pressing against him. “I’ll see you soon, Glenn.”
“Take care, Mike. Remember, you’ve got a friend here,” Glenn called after him, a hint of worry lingering in his tone. Mike had now finished his final Lager for that night at least, and he had to pay up. Mike proceeded to place money on the Bar Counter and Glenn moved off to serve other Customers.
He had made a new friend, but the nagging thought of all the Local ones he has, as Mike was far from being an Anti-Social type, but his recollections of local Connections was just drawing a blank in his head. This he had no explanation for. It was bizarre. He knew he must have known a few people locally—but his Memory of them was blocked?
Leaving his Money for his several Pints on the Bar for Glenn. He caught Glenn’s eye and motioned to the Money. Glenn acknowledged and moved closer to collect it. They waved Goodbye.
“Good luck”. Glenn said.
“Thanks…. Cheers!” Replied Mike.
As Mike stepped out of the pub, the cool night air hit his face, grounding him. He took a deep breath, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Outside the Pub, it had begun to Rain. Just a fine, light sprinkle—nothing to write home about (wherever Home was?). The usual shoppers or commuters bustled past, mostly heading homewards, and Mike had lost track of how far he had walked to ‘The Ten Bells’ Pub.
Rather than walk home three of four Bust stops away—in the Rain and get soaked—he decided to take a Bus Home. Not far to walk, he nestled in the dry under a Bus Shelter and noted that the next Bus would be along in Two Minutes time. Looking at an old watch he found in his Apartment, it was around 4 p.m.
As Mike waited under the shelter, the rhythmic sound of raindrops pattering against the metal roof created a calming backdrop. He pulled out his notes again, glancing at the names and the jotted reminders. Each word felt heavier now, a reminder of the tasks ahead.
He could see shadows of people hurrying past, their umbrellas bobbing like mushrooms in the rain. For a moment, he let his mind drift, contemplating the oddities of life—the friends he’d lost, the music that bound them, and the mysteries that seemed to spiral out of control.
At the exact minute, the Bus he was after – the Number 11-arrived on schedule and Mike paid his Fare. It was a Double-decker. The Bus arrived with a whoosh, splashing a small wave of water against the curb. Mike boarded, grateful for the warmth inside.
Mike raced up to the top Deck for the Front Seats, but alas, some other people had already seated themselves in them. No matter, plenty of window seats to go around. As he settled into a window seat, he glanced at the passing streets, each corner familiar yet imbued with a sense of urgency.
The Bus pulled away and trundled a few hundred yards to gain speed, before slowing down once more as it approached the next stop. As the bus trundled along, Mike steeled his resolve. Tomorrow would be a pivotal day—he’d meet with his old boss, confront his landlord, and dig into his financial mess. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought of visiting that family member in Wales lingered, promising a semblance of peace.
Only two more Bus stops after this one Mike thought. As the Bus was pulling up to the next Stop on this route, Mike noticed a few Pedestrians waiting at the Bus Stop below his top deck Window. Interesting! All seemed to be moving towards the Buses’ Front to pay their Fares, all but one man. He was motionless in the Rain, which had now grown heavier. What got Mike’s attention more than anything was that this man wore a Tall Top-Hat and a Edwardian – styled Frock Coat?! Very odd!?
Mike leaned closer to the window; curiosity piqued. The man stood out starkly against the gray backdrop of the rain-soaked street, his tall top hat and frock coat giving him an air of old-world elegance that felt utterly out of place.
As the bus slowed to a stop, Mike couldn’t help but wonder what story the man carried with him. Did he even belong in this era?
The other pedestrians filed onto the bus, not even glancing a look at the man, displaying complete indifference. But he remained still, seemingly unaffected by the rain drenching his coat. Mike’s heart raced; something about the man’s stillness felt significant, like he was waiting for something—or someone.
The bus doors opened, and the sound of the rain intensified. Mike felt an inexplicable urge to step off and approach the man, but the rational part of him hesitated. Was he simply reading too much into a bizarre situation?
As the last passenger boarded, Mike glanced back at the top-hatted figure. Just then, the man turned slightly, revealing sharp features and a gaze that seemed to pierce through the veil of the downpour. Their eyes met for a moment, and Mike felt a chill run down his spine. There was something unsettling yet compelling about that look.
Although it was difficult to see his Features through the Rain-speckled windows, he did look like a very grim sort of fellow indeed. Ashen-faced, grey Complexion. He had eyes like Holes in his Head. High Cheek Bones and a rather hooked nose. Vulpine Featured. He fixed his eyes in a gaze and was seemingly looking across the street to the other side. He had the look of fear on his face.
The Bus pulled away and several of the passengers who had been around him were now seated upstairs with Mike. He struck up a conversation with one older Woman in the seat in front of him.
“That fellow there”, pointing down at him. “Is he Okay?”
The middle-aged Woman looked down at the Bus Stop.
“What Man is that?”, she said.
“Why that Man in a Top Hat and long Coat – he looks Ghostly”. Mike insisted, as the Bus pulled away.
“I don’t know who you are referring to Mister?” The Woman stated.
“YOU CAN’T SEE HIM?! Mike was incredulous.
“NO! NO, I Can’t!” The Woman replied rather irritated at this engagement.
Mike felt a chill run down his spine. “You really CAN’T see him? He is right THERE!”, an exasperated Mike points downwards.
The woman turned back to her seat, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation and annoyed. “I’m NOT sure what you’re talking about, but I think you need to LAY OFF THE DRINK Man!”
Panic gripped Mike. Had he imagined the man in the Top Hat? He glanced out the window, searching for any sign of the figure, but the rain blurred the view, and the street was empty now.
“Are you feeling alright?” the woman asked, her tone softer but still skeptical.
“I’m fine,” Mike replied, though uncertainty gnawed at him. “I just need to figure out what’s going on.”
As the bus continued its route, he leaned back in his seat, mind racing. What if the man was a figment of his imagination? But deep down, he knew he’d felt something real—something significant. The bus rolled on, but Mike’s thoughts lingered on the encounter. He needed to find a way to reconcile what he’d seen with what others perceived. The thoughts of the Foot Tunnel—where HE had HIS encounter with a Mystery man came flooding back.
Then came a bolt from the blue.
“I do, I see him! “, said a quiet Man behind Mike. “He is always there, at this Bus Stop. Never moves, never gets on any Bus. Monday to Friday. But never there on a Weekend. He never gets on at this stop!”.
“What?!” Mike exclaimed. “Tell me more please!”
The quiet Man proceeded to tell the story of the Bus Stop Man.
“Only about one in ten people can see him, others cannot see him, but they can sense him there. Be it the sensation of a cold Draught, a sudden Breeze, or a Shiver down their spine. The Story goes…. that in 1902, he was at this very spot and was awaiting his Fiancée to join him on this side of the street, to go for a walk. A new-fangled automobile Prototype rattled and wheezed around the corner and honked its Bubble Horn loudly. This spectacle was enough to spook a Horse-drawn Carriage coming in the opposite direction and caused the Team of Four Horses to Bolt wildly.”
He Continued and Mike listened intently, captivated by the quiet man’s tale. “So, the horses—what happened next?” he pressed, his curiosity ignited.
The man continued, his voice low and steady. “The carriage driver lost control, and in the chaos, the top-hatted man rushed into the street to save his fiancée. This Inopportune timing occurred just as the Bus Stops Man’s Fiancée stepped off the Kerb to cross over to her male betrothed. The outcome was a predictable and very Tragic one. She died, crushed in his Arms. So, here he stands, Monday to Friday. Still waiting for her. Frozen in Time.” He took the Story a bit deeper. “Local folklore says that he jumped off a Bridge two years later, distraught over losing his Fiancée. After that, his apparition would begin to appear. His tormented Soul still waits for her. Very sad indeed. “
Mike was in silent shock! And very surprised that this local Historian should know so much about such things?
“Thanks for the Ghost Story. I can see him, and so can YOU---But how?“ Mike was intrigued.
The quiet man replied,
"We are open-minded, and able to channel energy that others cannot. Oh!... this is my stop! I must get off now", he exclaimed.
With this, the now story-telling man got up, walked to the back and got off the Bus.
Mike alighted too, at the next stop down the Road.
Mike spent a very pensive and disturbed walk home that afternoon. Each day had seemed to be an adventure all of its own. He would turn in early after freshening himself up and grabbing a bite to eat someplace nearby. Deep in complicated thoughts, and very fatigued, he'd see his Landlord in the Morning.
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