Halloween: The Dissector’s Cut

A BCV Halloween Story

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The following is an account of a long lost task, the location will remain a secret to protect the curious from meeting their fate before their time, as too the names and personalities of those involved these have been changed to protect their dignity.

The day was grey and damp, the dark clouds were broken only by the pale disk of a false sun that cast no light and no warmth. It was a forgotten woodland and its trees’ branches reached upwards like skeletal fingers grasping as if for Heaven’s forgiveness. Along the wood’s only track came a group of figures, 13 in total, walking slowly and followed by a Land Rover pulling a trailer full of tools and implements needed on the day’s task: bow saws, chain saw, axes, loppers, a long-handled pruning saw, and a winch. Upon reaching a clearing the group stopped.

From out of the distance could be heard the faint rumble of a coming storm.

“Right,” said Rock, “Before we get on just a few words. As you know a number of conservation groups have vanished over the last few years, many of them we’d worked with in the past. No one knows what happened to them, volunteers just vanished leaving nothing but their tools and brew kits. So, in remembrance of these missing groups we’ll have a minute’s silence.”

One by one the assembled group doffed their hats and folded their hands: Rock, Tim, Cecilia, Kenny, June, Joan, Pete, Phil, Carlton, Catriona, Adrian, Em, and Kath. A long minute passed, the only sounds being that of branches creaking in the chill, damp air.

“Right,” said Tim, impatient to get the work done, “Let’s get started, forecast is for bad weather so we want to be in the pub before it arrives. We’ll be crown lifting and doing a bit of felling, the trees have been marked so they’re easy to find. Also, it looks like someone has dug a new pond in an open area a couple of hundred yards or so that way,” he pointed randomly, “There’s no water in it but be careful not to fall in, it’s a bit deep for some reason. Another also, don’t get too close to the chain saw, we don’t want any accidents.”

The volunteers picked out their tool of choice from the back of the trailer and separated out in to the woods to begin work. Over the next couple of hours could be heard the intermittent thrum of Tim’s chain saw, the creak and thud of branches as they were cut down, and the odd shout or expletive when untoward things happened.

Adrian, June and Joan stayed near the Land Rover cutting up branches and making a dead hedge.
“Joan?” said June, “I’m going to wander off and find a quiet place.”
“You mean a natural convenience?” said Joan
“Yes, one of those.”
“Be careful out there,” quipped Adrian in a spooky voice, “These woods have a bit of a reputation for being haunted, odd things happen here,” he then laughed ghoulishly.
“Thanks for that, you’ve not made made me worried at all now,” said June, “Joan will you come with me?”
A couple of dead leaves fell from the near bare branches above, Joan brushed them from her short brown hair.
“I suppose so. Adrian, don’t mess up the dead hedge.”
The two walked off into the wood leaving Adrian on his own. With nothing better to do he poured himself some herbal tea and sat down under a tree.
“Mess up the dead hedge. As if.”

Time passed and Adrian sat warming his hands on his tea filled cup. The woods had become quite except for the creaking of tree branches and the whispering of dead leaves. It was a bit too quite, something felt wrong but Adrian couldn’t figure out what. From nearby he heard something shuffling, something sneaking towards him stealthily. From behind the Land Rover came Kenny.

“Adrian,” said Kenny. “Have you seen Rock and Tim I’ve trying to find them to get a few photos?”
“No, no idea. June and Joan wandered off a few minutes.. er, half an hour ago maybe they’ve seen them,” replied Adrian.
“It’s really weird, I can’t seem to find any one except Phil and Em near that pond Tim mentioned, that was a while ago. They were having a cup of tea, so nothing worth photographing.”
There was a faint whirring of the chain saw coming from deeper in the mirky woods.
“Maybe that’s Tim. I’m going to wander about a bit more maybe I’ll run in to him. Can you stay here in case anyone comes back?” With that Kenny disappeared into the woods.
“Yes, sure,” Adrian said wearily to the empty air and sipped more tea, by now gone cold; he threw it away and poured some more.

There was a low growl of thunder, the storm was inexorably getting closer. More time passed and no one else came back. It’s passed dinner time, where is everyone? thought Adrian. Maybe it would be a good idea to get up and go in search of the rest of the group. Instead, feeling a bit drowsy he leaned back in the hollow of a gently creaking tree and fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamt. In the dream he could hear someone humming Riders On The Storm close by, then came a deep throaty growl, a sudden thud, and a dark shadow passed by; the humming stopped.

When Adrian woke there was something different. It took him a moment to realise that the Land Rover and trailer had gone. Had everyone gone home and left him behind? No, they wouldn’t do that would they.. would they? It was getting darker, rain was starting to fall and storm clouds were closing in. He had to try to find someone but where were they? The Land Rover had left ruts in the muddy ground, the tracks led deeper into the woods; Adrian decided to follow them.

Some time later Adrian came to a strange sight. The Land Rover was parked near a mound of earth and the trailer had been tipped up so that it was standing vertically with it’s tailgate flat against the ground and the towing hitch pointing skywards. From where he stood he could only see the trailer’s underside, two logs had been braced against its axle to keep it upright. The group’s winch was attached to a nearby tree. It looked as if the winch had been used to pull the trailer vertical. Why someone would do this was totally beyond Adrian’s comprehension.

From behind the trailer walked Emily Blandman, humming Thunderstruck and wiping the blade of her axe.
“Em, thank God, where have you been? Have you seen the others? There’s something really weird going on.”
“Adrian,” said Em with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She glanced at the bed of the trailer, “er.. I’ve been busy doing a bit of snedding and my axe got stuck and I cut myself. Nothing to worry about.”
By this point Adrian had seen something behind the mound of earth that froze him in horror.
“Ahh..,” said Em, “You weren’t really supposed to see that yet. I thought the herbal tea would keep you asleep for a bit longer, I drugged it when you were talking to Kenny. It was touch and go when I drove the Landy past you though, so I shouldn’t be surprised that you woke up. You know, I dug that pit earlier in the week, but I still don’t think it’s deep enough.”
Adrian stood staring at the ghastly sight before him. The purpose of the mystery pond was now apparent. It had been filled with the dismembered remains of the other volunteers.
“You killed them, OMG you’ve even killed Kenny.. you… Blandman?”
“Yes, he was taking photos of my work so I had no choice. He was annoying anyway.”
Beneath Kenny Adrian could see other bodies and body parts, all dismembered.
“Is everyone in there?” gasped Adrian, “Why?”
“Well.. yes, or at least most of what’s left of everyone. I drugged them all first, I was very humane. No one suffered.. except maybe Kenny.”
Adrian stared at the pit, his arms hanging limp, “I though you were a vegetarian?”
Emily sighed and said, “I’m chopping them up not eating them. I have some principles. Come with me, I’ll explain on the way.” She pointed towards the trailer with her axe, “We’ll need to hurry though, the storm’s nearly here,”

As they walked towards the trailer Blandman spoke, “I’m not who you think I am. For a start my name isn’t Emily Blandman. For many years I worked for Megachem, I was their chief scientist. They developed all kinds of nasty things which I won’t bore you with. I disagreed with the path they were taking, I wanted to use our discoveries to benefit the environment and bring wildlife back from the brink of extinction. During my researches I came across the work of a man named West who was based at the Miskatonic University the 1900s. He developed what I decided to call the Elixir, the less enlightened called it the Demon Seed, and it can… well it would be easier to just show you.”
The two of them walked around to the front of the trailer and for the second time that day Adrian froze in horror.

“When it was discovered what I was doing I was fired and thrown out of the building, shareholders weren’t happy apparently, but I managed to sneak out the a vial of Elixir and I have been working independently ever since.”
They had reached the upended trailer; Adrian fell to his knees.
“You see, with the Elixir I can rebuild flesh in whatever way suits my purpose. My real name, by the way, is Fran K. Enstine.”

The creature stood strapped to the bed of the trailer, a patchwork of limbs and skin.
“This is NGOR-MAN, Next Generation Organic Restoration Manager, pronounced Norman, and he is the future of conservation. A super hero for re-wilding.” Enstine dropped her axe and took hold of the long-handled pruning saw that was leaning against the trailer and used it to point out the creatures attributes:

“Large feet for stability and thick legs for balance, good for uneven terrain; agile hands and strong arms, good for planting wild flowers or cutting down trees. The arms are also multi-jointed and are extensible, they unfold in order to reach higher branches, or for putting up bird boxes; he has teeth, jaws and a digestive system that can eat any invasive species; his skin is double layered to deflect thorns, excellent for hedge laying. His head is a bit misshapen but it does hold several brains containing all of BCV’s conservation knowledge.”

From her pocket she removed the almost empty bottle of Elixir, “See this, my greatest achievement. This liquid not only helps to stitch flesh back together but can also reanimate it,” there was a peal of thunder, “With the help of a few hundred thousand volts.” More thunder crackled above and rain started to fall more heavily, the storm clouds were almost directly overhead. “Nearly time.”

Enstine continued, “I’ve always enjoyed working with BCV; it was always greater than the sum of its parts, now literally so. I tried this a few times before but something always went wrong.”
“The missing groups,” gasped Adrian.
“Yes, them. All that work for nothing.”
“Anyway, there’s just one thing left.. successful environmentalists all tend to have ponytails, which is why I saved you until last. I’d use mine but it’s the wrong colour. Nothing personal. “
“Your mad! Your not human!” screamed Adrian.
“Humanity has a lot to answer for, so I’ll take that as a compliment.” Enstine removed Adrian’s head with a single stroke of the pruning saw. She then scalped her victim with her axe and attached the grisly piece of skin to the creatures head. She used the last few drops of Elixir along the line where flesh met flesh and the ragged edge of scalp immediately fused to the creature’s grey skin. Tugging NGOR-MAN’s hair once she whispered, “Happy birthday,” and threw the empty vial into the pit.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the clouds, and harsh thunder echoed across the sky. As the wind and rain whipped through woods, Enstine extended the pruning saw’s handle to maximum length and attached it to the trailers towing hitch, a lightning rod. All was ready.

It was only a matter of minutes until it came, a devastating bolt of energy screamed from the sky with the voice of a god, striking the pruning saw and turning it to a spray of molten metal, travelling trough the trailer, bursting its tyres and filling the air with the stench of burning rubber. The energy passed into the creature’s body making it shake and convulsed, arching forwards and falling back several times before slumping against the trailer’s upright bed. Steam drifting from its flesh, the straps that had held it in place crumbling to dust.

As the thunder echoed in to silence, Fran Kelly Enstine stood expectantly, her eyes riveted on the creature, looking for signs of success. Slowly movement came, a twitch of a finger, the flutter of an eyelid. The creature took its first ragged, tortured breath and opened its pale eyes.

“It’s alive, IT LIVES!!!” cried Enstine, “Speak NGOR-MAN, share your knowledge with the world! Let us do great things together.”
The creature stood upright, breathed deep, and with voice that seemed to emanate from the depths of the Earth roared, “JAFFA CAKE!”

Enstine’s shoulders slumped, she dropped to her knees, put her head in her hands and groaned, “Oh no, not this again.”

NGOR-MAN grinned.

Disclaimer: This is a work of slightly over long fiction and any similarity between this and events and entities in the real world (as if) is either an amazing co-incidence or the product of a very warped mind.

See the photos below to find out what actually happened on the Halloween task at Eatock Lodge on 22nd October 2023.

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.