Zoe ended her call. She shivered and gave the street another quick glance. Her eyes rested on something dark – a crow, she thought, that crept along the ridge of a cottage roof. Her breath hung in the cold air as she let go of her frustration whilst her thumb automatically fingered her mobile. 

Eyes fixed on the dark thing’s movements, she broke into a smile and turned away. ‘Hi darling – how long will you be?’

‘Ten minutes, five if I put my foot down.’

‘Then dooo it.’

‘What’s that noise?’

‘What? Oh my case on the cobbles.’

‘Then keep still.’

‘Can’t – street’s really narrow – signal’s weak – keeps cutting out.  And I had to park in the long stay. And walk up the hill.’

‘Diddums: poor love. So, is it like the brochure? Log fires and candles?’

‘Dunno. Can’t find the bloody place. Agent’s sending someone up to assist. A guide he said.’

‘A guide? Hell Zoe – is it up a mountain?’

‘No-oo,’ she cooed, ‘just a steep rise.’ In the background she could hear their song as the beat thumped through his dashboard until the engine’s increased power blocked it. She pursed her lips, ‘Just get here as quick as you can Jamie, it’s growing ever so dark,’ she turned her head and looked up to the roof, ‘and its creepy. And you know I don’t do scared.’

‘Foot down as I speak.’ He rang off. 

She gave the screen her customary kiss leaving it foggy and visualised him behind the wheel of the Jaguar overtaking at speed. She should be there beside him wriggling with the thrill the powerful car gave her.

A kitten pawed a dandelion seed and caught her attention. Its antics made her laugh out loud – her voice thrown back as it bounced off the cobbles. Fluffy seed forgotten, the little cat stretched up and tried to grab hold of Zoe’s condensed breath. She blew out a long stream of air mesmerised by the kitten’s fascination with something of no substance. Suddenly it stopped its play and fled behind a shaded recess between two cottages. For a few moments Zoe tried to focus on the shadowy place. She hoped for another glimpse of the kitten but from above and behind, lumps of moss landed on her and scattered around her feet. 

She turned to see a full-grown cat  slide down the tiles of the roof. It spat and screeched piercing her ears with pain. As the creature sped with claws fully extended towards her head, Zoe ducked and brought up an arm to deflect it. The cat’s stench took her breath away as it passed on down and hit the cobbles with a fluid smack – her mobile phone landing on its flank. 

Silence filled the seconds as she stared at the mangy body and the dark liquid that oozed from its mouth. With effort Zoe straightened, hand pressed against her nostrils, she looked up and down the street for someone, anyone to do something. Her mind raced for solutions. She needed to contact the Agent, demand better service and vent her disgust on him. 

She turned her gaze back to the mess at her feet and wiped her fingers down her jeans. She filled her lungs with clean, chilled air, kept her attention on the cat, and took in another breath. Loath to touch a single hair of the creature, she reached towards it and with patience she could ill afford, slid a manicured nail under the phone’s casing. More silent seconds ticked by as her mind prayed for the mobile not to ring. Deftly she dragged it across the filthy fur and at the very moment she had almost reached its tail the cat lifted its head and hissed.  

Zoe fell back. The phone slipped from her fingers and skittered out of reach. Horrified, she watched the creature arch its back and lash out – not at her – but at some unseen foe as it zigzagged away. Her eyes flicked towards her mobile and back to the feline as it slid through the railings of a garden gate. A gate she could have sworn was not there moments before.

She stared at the gap. Lungs pumping, no longer aware of the stench, she scrutinised the cottages again. Was she going mad? Was it possible she’d overlooked a gate? Rising, she brushed down her jeans and walked around to clear her head. At last her mind yelled – enough.

Determined to cancel the log-fired house with its free champagne and sodding, bloody candles, she picked up her phone and wiped it clean. She gathered her weekend case, checked nothing had fallen from her handbag and set off down the hill. As always, her thumb automatically manned the mobile. It checked for damage, all good but no signal – again. She searched for the spot where it had last been strong. Jamie must be told that she was no longer in the mood for an away from it all weekend.

Avoiding the dark pool left by the stricken cat, she circled the street’s narrow confines anxious to find the spot where she’d last got through to the Agent, more desperate to find where she’d spoken to Jamie – his words, ‘Foot down as I speak,’ echoed inside her head – husky tones able to calm her and allow reason to return. They told her it was childish to allow a moth-eaten stray to upset her. But she was more than upset. It had scared her. And was the gate’s sudden appearance brought on by her anxiety? Was she losing her mind because she wasn’t able to find a house? 

Perhaps.

The wheels on her case brought a rhythm of reassurance. Their noise relaxed her jitters, allowed common sense to take control and reasoned she had driven a long way to be with Jamie and that at any moment he would enter the little town. He would spot her Mini on the car park and pull in beside it. 

She looked down the hill for the approach of the Agent’s assistant. The church spire dominated, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Somewhere in the distance emergency sirens could be heard and a column of black smoke rose behind the market square. Friday evening, thought Zoe, countryside or city, the same crap goes on.

The phone gave a sickly blimp. She moved position urging it to gather strength: it faded. She took a step back and it bleeped so she dragged the overnight case across the cobbles and followed the signal to where it grew stronger, oblivious to the fact that the cast iron gate swung open at her approach.

Phone pressed to ear Zoe looked down as her stylish shoes trod on names and dates carved in stone. The signal’s strength gave her hope but then she frowned and tried next to reach the Agent. It rang but no one answered. She turned her eyes towards the town: its skyline promised a dry tomorrow and she wondered spitefully if the Agent had knocked off early?

She tried Jamie again, puzzled at the tone. Neglectful of where she trod, her heel caught in a crack leaving the shoe behind as she stepped out of it. She paid no heed to the cold, damp stone, but looked towards the sky again as she pulled the shoe free and wriggled her foot home. Something flew past her ear, thin and leathery. Could’ve been a leaf she told herself, but knew it wasn’t. Beyond where she stood an outline came into view, picked out by the last hues of the setting sun. It had angel wings and held an open book. It had movement that fluttered behind. 

Where was she? 

She turned to the way she had come, desperate not to look at the strange activity just beyond her line of vision and tried to listen to the rational thoughts that told her to have courage. They said that the creepy things were just tricks of the light. Twilight her mind explained, sets the nerves on edge. Don’t be afraid of graveyards: they are a mark of civilisation merely the way humans honour the dead. Yes, she nodded, head held high, eyes straight ahead. All she had to do was to keep her sanity and forget being wrapped in soft towels in front of a log fire drinking champagne with Jamie. It was never meant to be – and anyway, why would she wish to spend the night in the arms of a man who had turned off his mobile? He knew she was scared. She’d never gone to parties where people dressed as vampires. Yet here she was: lost and surrounded by the dead. Keep strong, her brain urged, Carry on until you reach the bottom of the hill and once there, don’t look back. Put the overnight case in the boot of your car and drive as far away as possible from this quaint, historic town.

 Hot tears ran on cold cheeks, Zoe stopped to brush them aside and wondered which way she had come in. The yew hedge offered hope. Someone tended it, cut the sides. Surely she would find help – find a kind soul to point the way back to the car park?  

As the sky darkened, the church loomed like some paternal monument to watch over his children. Beneath, headstones of the long dead slouched this way and that, giving testament to the ground that had shifted over time.

‘What kept you?’ 

The voice came from behind the hedge. Familiar but dry as a vault’s floor. She ran towards it, her case clicking over the slabs, eyes alert for a gap. 

‘Jamie? Is that you?’

 A slit of pale light beckoned and there, in a courtyard of paved slabs stood the house from the brochure; the one with candles ablaze in every window. The open door caused the candles to flicker wildly, flooding the path between her and the threshold with dappled yellow light.   

Zoe was in no doubt it was Jamie’s silhouette but the cat cradled in his arms held her back. The long shadow thrown between them showed a tail that twitched with impatience against his thigh. 

‘Why didn’t you call me from the car?’ she accused.

‘Car?’

‘Why turn your mobile off?’ she whined.

‘Car?’ Jamie repeated as though unable to digest the word. He raised his eyes toward the dimmed sunset, ‘Oh yeah,’ his voice far off, ‘the car.’ Zoe followed his gaze – it rested on the plume of black smoke. ‘A cat,’ he rasped, ‘leapt from nowhere.’ Jamie hunched his shoulders, his smile held no humour. ‘Hey,’ he croaked, ‘what the hell? You rushed me but we’re here now.’

‘We?’

‘Guided me here – didn’t you ol’ mate?’ He bent his head, kissed the cat’s mangy fur. 

Zoe shuddered. ‘Jamie: that cat fell off a roof. Put it down – it stinks.’

‘Aw that’s not fair. A little tender loving’s what we need don’t we ol’ buddy?’ The cat’s purr sent the blood to surge icy cold through Zoe’s arms. 

This was madness. Either it was in her head or his. ‘We’ve waited a long time for Zoe, haven’t we ol’ mate?’ Jamie’s dry voice rattled up her spine. ‘Why stand there?’ he croaked, ‘come on in.’ 

Rooted to the spot, Zoe’s thumb found the emergency services. ‘Hey,’ he hissed, ‘what’cha doing?’

‘Calling the Agent,’ Zoe lied.

‘Why? You found us didn’t you?’ Her heart pulsed as she put the phone to her ear, and waited. A faint voice from the emergency centre crackled in. She turned to listen and her eyes fell on a gate tucked between two cottages. The gate her mind yelled. She whispered, ‘Help me.’ The signal faded. As she turned back, Jamie was making his way to the gap in the hedge, not his usual stride but gliding, slow and noiseless. As he neared the cat’s purr increased, and the temperature plunged yet no wispy breath came from either man or beast and their eyes were as lifeless as gutted fish. With horror, she now realised her Jamie was trapped behind the wheel of a car going up in flames somewhere down the hill. Slow and deliberate she let go of the weekend case, turned and fled.

She didn’t look back as she ran down the hill – terrified that if she did Jamie’s ghost would catch the collar of her jacket and drag her back. Desperate to bring her traumatised body under control, she unlocked her car, sank behind the wheel and started the engine. The route was detoured, forcing her to concentrate and obey the temporary signs – thankful that they blocked out the chaos inside her head. Strobes of blue reflected in shop windows as she waited for the traffic to move on. Zoe stifled a sob when she saw the charred outline of a Jaguar being hoisted into the air. She blinked away the tears and swallowed the lump lodged in her throat. She had to pull herself together. It had been a mistake: a foolish game but now it was over. 

The cars in front moved faster, soon the road ahead freed itself of traffic. She let out a long breath, changed gear and followed – not knowing where she headed: not caring. She needed to go home but daren’t. What was she to tell her husband – more lies? No. Not this night at any rate – not ever. An ambulance screamed from behind, its lights flashed and filled her car with urgency. She made way for it and watched it weave its way through the traffic, her memory kicking in with images of the horrid cat as it zigzagged through the gate. With blurred vision she saw the lights converge into tiny dots along the straight duel carriageway. 

The mobile in her lap rang. It made her jump but brought her out of her reverie. Automatically, her hand left the steering wheel to pick it up.  

‘Hi Darling, how long you going to be?’

Madness returned. ‘Oh Jamie,’ she pleaded, ‘please – don’t do this.’ When she threw the phone onto the passenger seat, its glow illuminated the upholstery. Her heart ached. She wanted to hear his voice yet she now knew he was dead. She let out another loud sob, the lump in her throat on fire. She choked it back – what had she  done? Over and over his voice came from the mobile, repeating like a scratched vinyl record. Hi darling, how long you going to be? Blinded with grief she didn’t see the cat until instinct made her swerve the car out of its path and into the concrete stanchion of a bridge. 

‘Hi darling, what kept you?’

Jamie stood in the doorway, the cat snaked its sleek body around Zoe’s legs and purred. She bent down, tickled its ear and glided past. ‘Got here as soon I could. What’s it like?’

‘Just as the brochure promised.’ He stepped aside, bade her enter and closed the door leaving the cat outside. ‘Strange we never found that guide isn’t it?’

‘Oh I think we did Jamie,’ she whispered, her voice dry as autumn leaves, ‘I think we did.’

(c) 2024 Pat Barnett.

“Breathless” is a haunting tale of love, deception, and the supernatural set in a quaint historic town. The story follows Zoe, who arrives for what should be a romantic weekend getaway with her lover Jamie. As she waits for him in the increasingly eerie streets, she encounters a mysterious dying cat and finds herself drawn into a web of ghostly encounters. The narrative takes a chilling turn when it’s revealed that Jamie has died in a car accident, yet continues to beckon her from beyond. The story masterfully builds tension through atmospheric details – from the rolling haar (sea fog) to the ancient cobblestones and flickering candlelight, creating a genuinely spine-tingling ghost story that explores themes of guilt, desire, and the consequences of infidelity.

“Creatures” is a captivating collection of supernatural tales by Pat Barnett, a Yorkshire-based author whose writing journey is as fascinating as her stories. Born in post-war Manchester, Pat’s path to becoming an author included careers as a secretary and nursery nurse before discovering her true calling as a writer in Australia. Now settled in picturesque Pickering, North Yorkshire, she crafts tales that blend local folklore with psychological horror, creating stories that will keep you awake long after reading. If you enjoy atmospheric British ghost stories with a contemporary twist, you’ll find yourself completely absorbed in this collection.

Read “Creatures” on Amazon