Halloween Task

The Last Of Us,Too

It was a grim day, the sky was overcast, the water around Doffcocker Lodge’s island was grey, cold, and choppy. On the shore opposite the island, beneath a gnarled willow, stood 15 volunteers braving the autumnal weather and waiting their turn to be ferried across the few dozen metres to the island. Two by two with tools and bags the volunteers crossed the water with James acting as ferryman, until all had passed over and stood surveying their world for the next few hours.

“The task today,” said Tom, “Is to cut back the vegetation, pull up any self-seeding regrowth, and harvest the willow. We’ll use the willow to reinforce the hurdles around the edge of the island to stop erosion. Put the brash behind the hurdles, this will help with the erosion control.”
“And if there’s any left we’ll build a wicker man for Francis,” said Colin, but nobody was listening.

Everybody began to pick up their tool of choice, bow saws, loppers, or slashers, then got to work on the island’s annual tidy up. After a couple of hours some areas were cleared and a nice pile of willow stems began to pile up ready for use.

“Tom what are these?” asked Craig, pointing at dozens of eggs sitting in hollows.
“They are Canada geese eggs,” said Tom. “Doffcocker used to be full of Canada geese, they’re not native and damage to the lodge. They graze the shoreline and dump [phosphates] in the water.”
“The eggs were treated with paraffin so they wouldn’t hatch. If they don’t hatch then there are no new geese, so over time the goose numbers dropped. This was something that happened years ago.”
“Did we do that?”asked Craig. “No,” replied Tom “We weren’t involved, it was work done by other groups. These eggs are old so whatever you do don’t break them.”
“Are they full of dead birds?” gasped Craig, “Jane, come here I’ve something to show you.”

And so the day went on. Just after dinnertime something strange began to happen. In the sky, glowing through the clouds, pale green flashes appeared, bursting silently like eerie flares.
“What is that?” asked Jeff. No one knew, not even Chris, who usually would.
The flashes continued for several minutes, then died away leaving a sense of unease in their wake. Shortly after, a dull cracking sound could be heard coming from nearby.
“Nathan, stop cracking your knuckles,” chided Katrina
“It’s not me…. it’s the eggs,” remarked Nathan.

Everybody stopped and stare at the pits full of eggs, each glowing the same green as the lights in the sky. One by one the eggs cracked open releasing small rotting goslings, and a foul stench. As each of the hatchlings caught sight of the volunteers they started to drag themselves forward, black fluid dripping from their twisted beaks and malformed wings.
“They’re hideous,” gasped Andrew, “It’s like a nightmare, a badly written nightmare,” and then ran behind a tree for a quick vape.

“We need to get off the island,” said someone sensible, but no one was listening.
“We need to get off the island,” said Tom, everyone agreed.
“We’ve got time, they’re not moving very fast,” said Jane bravely walking backwards.
Caroline took charge of the situation, “Everyone to the dinghy, women and children first…. Mark, get out of the dinghy.”
“It was worth a try,” groaned Mark climbing back on to the island.
“Joanne, Eve, you go first,”
“I’m not a kid,” complained Eve.
“Sshh, get in the boat, Ellie.. I mean Evie” said Joanne.

At that point the ground began to quake, the earth broke open and adult zombie Canada geese erupted from their graves. They staggered and croaked, as they tried to find their legs.. some literally. Then suddenly some of them rushed forward.
“Stop it, I’m a vegetarian,” screamed Francis as one of the undead birds tried to bite him.
“I don’t think they care,” quipped James.
“We’ll never get everyone off the island while they are attacking. Someone has to stay and fight them off while we escape,” suggested James.
Everybody shuffled around, looked at their phones, hummed, or pretended to be trying to remember something important.
“Looks like nobody’s nobody is gonna do it, so might as well be me,” sighed Caroline. “Tom, get everybody off the island. I’ll meet you in the pub.”
“But…,” garbled Tom
“Do as your told!” shouted Caroline picking up a slasher, walking towards the birds with purpose, and swinging the slasher at the putrid poultry like she was born to it.

The dinghy was built for 3 but that day it carried 14 across the few tens of yards to the shore. The group stood and stared across at the island. The decaying remains of the reanimated geese still quivered and crawled, their terrible cries echoing across the water. But of Caroline there was no sign.
An evil wind blew from the island beneath a grim sky.
“So, which pub are we going to?” asked Francis.

Sitting in the Doffcocker Inn the group sat and pondered their loss.
“She’ll be here soon Tom, I know she will,” said Jane optimistically.
“I hope so, I’ve bought her a pint,” replied Tom.

At that moment the door crashed open and in staggered Caroline, dripping lodge water and mud on the pubs newly refurbished flooring. She raised her hand and reached out to the group.
“You’ve earned this pint,” Tom said, “here,” and handed it towards her.
Caroline’s hand dropped from her wrist, dangling by a shred of flesh, black fluid dripping from the wound.
“Food,” she zombie groaned, “pub food”.
More zombies burst through the door, some still carrying their smartphones.
“Maybe I should have got her a half instead,” said Tom as the planet’s new rulers lurched forward.

And the screams of the living soon became the snarls of the undead.

And now what really happened. The weather was too bad to work on the island so we cut back willow along the edge of the reedbed instead. No one was eaten or turned in to a zombie, and the pub’s carpet wasn’t soiled in any way.

Halloween stuff from previous years can be found through this link

Moses Gate: Halloween

Sunday 30th November, Tree Planting

Professor Van Helsing sat in the semi-gloom of his mansion, quietly savouring a flagon from the cask of Amontillado he kept in his private cellar. While sharpening his one remaining stake he suddenly became aware of a strange noise coming from the kitchen wing, “Hmm,” he thought, “The servant’s locked away in his shuttered room, what can this be?” He rose and, cautiously, made his way to the location of the disturbance.
It was coming from behind the door to the larder.
Grasping the door’s handle, he readied himself, stake in hand, then pulled open the door to find.. nothing.
He realised with horror that the cupboard was bare and that he was going to have to go shopping.

Grabbing his Burberry coat and his pointy stick he exited the safety of his home and stepped out on to the dark, rain slicked streets of Murderside. He walked along Grimm Street, footsteps echoing as he passed beneath the flickering gas light. Coming to the last house on the left he turned down the Rue Morgue, a road well known for knife wielding primates and undead drag artists. The street was entirely dark, he suspected Council cutbacks and carried on stake in hand.

Suddenly three dark shapes, like women in black (although they may self-identify differently) detached themselves from the shadows and flew at him. Vampires! He had one stake and there were three of the creatures. He acted quickly. As two of the undead closed on him he deftly impaled them both with one stake, for the third he whipped out his pruning saw and de-limbed it shouting, “Timber.” As their dust drifted away, he muttered too himself, “While there’s a moon over Bourbon Street they will not gain victory.”

Returning home after his adventure and a nut cutlet, he realised he would need more stakes. He would have to use dark magic and invoke the Bolton Conservation Volunteers for help. He knew the dangers, knew the cost, knew what price they would ask. But it had to be done.

Taking down a long forgotten tome of Druidic lore he spoke the sacred words, “From the land beyond Bol-ton, from the world past hope and beer, I bid you BCV now appear.” He splashed the carpet with a small amount of ancient Super Seven ale and stood back. Slowly a mist rose from the age worn carpet, like stale smoke drifting musty and cold, the shapes began to take form, solidifying into the ghoulish group of hideous misfits that was BCV.
“I need you all to plant some trees that I can cut down later on and turn into stakes,” said Van Helsing.
“You have Jaffa Cakes?” asked one with spiders in her hair.
“No, not until you’re done. We need to go now, I don’t want to be late. And you can’t stay til morning, there’s no room.”

As they set off, travelling through the night to Mouldy Gate Park like a circus of horrors. As dawn broke the Professor laid out his plan.
“We’re not building a cabin in the woods, we’re planting bare rooted trees and sticking willow stems into the ground. I need enough stakes for an army of the damned to make war on the evil dead.”
“You have Jaffa Cakes?” asked a green haired freak.
“No,” said the patient Professor. “But, carry out my wishes and you’ll have more cakes than you can eat.”
“Jaffa Cakes?” asked three of the witches in unison.
Not wanting a witches strike on his hands, Van Helsing replied, “Maybe.”
With the repeated chant of “Jaffa Cake,” the zombieland rejects got to work.

Under the gaze of an old tree they worked. Swinging their spades like pendulums they pit planted trees with names that cannot be spoken, and T planting others in defiance of Mouldy Gate’s resident evil. Willow stems were impaled into the dank earth where their roots would sprout and push through the soil like undead rabbits in a pet sematary (blame Steven King for the spelling). Tree after tree after tree found its final destination, and Van Helsing watched on as the work progressed. Gradually the light began to fail, but just in time the work was done; the long day of the dead (tired) had came to an end; a new woodland had been created, and a new store of future stakes to fight the fanged menace.

The shuffling mob shuffled and groaned, mostly about their backs. One, slowly stepped forward and lifted a hand, not one of her own but it would do, “Jaffa cake?” she croaked.
The Professor stepped back slowly. “Errm… I’ve got Double Death By Chocolate Cake and a Victoria Sandwich…”
“JAFFA CAKE!!!!” the mob screamed and shambled forward.
“Time for the pub,” uttered Van Helsing and turned to run, but his Burberry coat snagged on a branch of the wicked old tree and the hoard fell on him in their hunger.

The following morning. The sun rose on a peaceful wood. The pale dawn light slanted through the misty air, sparkling on golden, dew covered leaves. Deer wandered between the newly planted saplings, they sniffed at the young trees but left them be, this crop was not for eating. Turning, they quietly walked away leaving not a mark on the earth to show that they were ever there. As they padded gently by they passed beneath a raven perched in the branches of a gnarled old tree…
..and Van Helsing’s empty coat swinging in the breeze.

And the raven said, “Nevermore.”

Respectfully dedicated to BCV’s Van Helsing

All characters in this post are ‘entirely’ imaginary and any similarity between them and any persons living or undead is entirely ‘co-incidental’. No zombies or vampires were injured and Van Helsing eventually got his coat back. Many thanks to Banana Enterprises and the Rock Hall Volunteers for their involvement and to BCV’s cast of thousands for dressing up for the occasion. As usual thanks to Rick, Tom, and Caroline for their continued and outstanding leadership. Extra thanks to Jane, Sheena, and Lynn for cakes. Other work included cutting up old tree branches and making a dead hedge.

Chew Moor: Field of Screams

October 31st 2021

Chew Moor, Lostock, a Site of Biological Importance, the importance being the autumn crocus that sprout up in September and October. The story is that the Knights Hospitallers brought them back from the Crusades, it was believed that they were effective against the Black Death but they were also more valuable than gold because of saffron. To prevent the valuable saffron being stolen the Knights laid a curse on the flowers, binding the spirit of one of their own to the meadow for all eternity. The ritual used to do this was gruesome and hideous and unbreakable, it is said, that on grim days his tall hooded shade can be seen walking the perimeter of the meadow in the exact areas where the crocus grows.

As BCV arrived on a cold October day the pale knight was already making his presence felt; punctured tyres, flat batteries, and sudden illnesses plagued the volunteers. Strange ghostly faces peered from the undergrowth as workers tried to cut back branches from the path, evil screams emanated from deep amongst the trees, and gloves would mysteriously go missing.

The volunteers tried to appease the vengeful spirit with cake and tea, and explained that the work was to help the meadow not damage it, cutting back the hedge and the trees would help improve habitat for birds and also help the flowers. The spook gave a hollow laugh and possessed a couple of our party to help speed the work along. He also made another one of the group so obsessed with the long handled pruning saw that we had to leave bits of him behind buried by the path.

All in all a typical BCV task.

If you want to see more creepiness go to Hallween Hall of Horrors.

Halloween Hall of Horrors

‘Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood
And do such bitter business as the day
Would quake to look on.

-Hamlet-

For the last few years BCV has held Halloween themed tasks to celebrate the season of the witch, but with this year’s real global horror story limiting our undead lives, our ghoul fest has had to be chopped down in size. So, to remind us all how zombies danced and werewolves howled here’s a few creepy pics from previous years. Here’s to raising spirits.