Infernal Creations, the sorry tale of Geoff the hapless building inspector, started life as a short story, which I adapted into a film. You can watch the film above, or enjoy the short story below.
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Infernal Creations
by Andy Coughlan
The wind howled around Geoff as he hurried along the narrow country lane. Dried leaves swirled about in a devilish dance. Head bowed, Geoff pulled his hi-vis vest tighter around him. The papers on his clipboard flapped as he tucked it tighter under his arm. Then he reached up to fix his hard hat more firmly on his balding head. Spots of rain beat a tattoo on the blue plastic as they fell from the leaden sky.
Geoff tried to lift his spirits by whistling a jaunty tune. The wind gusted around him, taking his breath away. It made the tune sound uncertain and eerie. He shivered and quickened his pace.
Crows cawed as they swirled about in the sky above him. They reminded him of the people back at the office. They had laughed at him when he’d heard the message. Jibed him for hearing something they could not. He didn’t understand their humour. The answerphone message was quite clear, if a little garbled by static. He’d even managed to get the number through the caller ID, and matched it with the location mentioned in the message. Luddington Hall, just on the outskirts of town.
Geoff usually booked out a pool car if he was travelling anywhere, but it had been such a lovely day yesterday, and his weather app had promised more of the same today. Thinking a nice stroll would do him a power of good, he’d gladly foregone the bureaucratic mess of the pool car booking system. As the rain fell harder, he started to wish he hadn’t.
Geoff glanced at his watch. He’d returned the call, only to get a chirpy young lady asking him to leave a message. He did so, telling them he would be there at 10am the following day to follow up on their complaint. He had tried to convince the people that should have dealt with it to go, but they were having nothing to do with it. If he wanted to make things up, he could deal with them.
He had two minutes to get there. Geoff made it a point never to be late. He hated tardiness. Almost as much as people who didn’t follow simple rules, or called him a liar. In the distance he could see the two lions that sat either side of the gates to Luddington Hall. He would be on time, if he walked just a little faster.
Perspiring mildly, despite the chill of the wind, Geoff arrived at the gates with 30 seconds to spare. A short drive led up to a forlorn looking red brick house. Perhaps once it had been a grand mansion for some rich Victorian toff. But now, it barely looked habitable. With the crows tumbling about in the sky beyond it, cackling and cawing, it reminded Geoff of an old horror film he’d seen once. He couldn’t suppress another shiver as it rattled from his nether regions and up his spine.
Still, he had a job to do, and if those work-shy buggers back at the office were going to ignore calls for help, he’d ruddy well do it for them. He doubled-checked the papers on his clipboard were in order, straightened his hard hat and stepped forward with a bold stride. In the distance, a church bell tolled the hour, its sonorous tones carried on the wind made Geoff double his pace.
He slowed as he arrived at the heavy wooden front door. He raised his hand towards the large black knocker, then paused. The door was slightly ajar. He listened, perhaps someone was just coming out, having forgotten something. He leaned sideways and peered through the crack into the dark hallway beyond. He could see nor hear anything.
“Hello?” Geoff glanced about nervously, then called again a little louder. “Hello?”
This is all most irregular, Geoff thought. I told them I would be here at ten.
He pulled the door open a little more and called out, “Hello?” once more.
The house was dark, and he could hear no sound of people moving about. He glanced back to the driveway. No cars. They must have gone out and not shut the door properly, Geoff surmised. Irritated at the wasted journey, he was about to turn away when two further thoughts struck him. Had the door been forced? Might there be intruders inside? He listened again. He could hear nothing, except the soft moan of the wind and the distant ticking of a clock.
Not wanting his journey to be in vain, he decided that he’d have a quick peek about and ensure that all was well. It was the least he could do.
He stepped into the entrance hallway, which seemed full of the detritus of a family with dogs. Leads, wellies and rain hats were strewn about. So far, so normal. He moved through into the main hallway.
To his right and ahead of him were two doors. A corridor ran away to his left, with a wide flight of stairs running parallel to it. He moved a little way down the corridor and called, “Anyone here?”
“Hello?”
The gloomy voice made Geoff jump a mile in the air. He spun around to see a pale looking man in his late 50s. Dressed in smart trousers and a black silk smoking jacket, he clutched a pipe in one hand. He was looking at Geoff in the most peculiar way. It was as if he were surprised, and slightly pleased, at Geoff’s reaction. Geoff thought this a strange thing. The man had scared seven-shades of excrement from him. He tried to compose himself and stepped towards the man holding up his ID card.
“Geoff Parkinson, Building Serv…” Geoff stopped himself. He wasn’t a building inspector today, he was a representative of, “Environmental Health.”
The man broke out into a wide smile and pointed at the door next to him. “This way, please.”
Geoff looked at him, waiting for the man to at least open the door. Instead, he stood there, a grin on his face, his pipe pointing at the closed door.
Geoff frowned, and reached past the man to push the door open. The man stepped back to allow Geoff to move through into a large drawing room. Paintings of country scenes and portraits adorned the high walls. In the corner, a large grandfather clock stood marking the passing of time with its deep, laborious ticking. On the opposite wall, two sets of heavy curtains, both closed, covered what Geoff assumed to be large patio doors. At the far end of the room, a large fireplace filled almost the whole wall.
Geoff glanced back at the man, who had followed him into the room, leaving the door wide open and a cold draught flowing around. The man pointed with his pipe. Geoff lowered himself into one of the two sofas in the centre of the room, facing each other.
The man took up position at the end of the opposite sofa. “You, ah, got my message then? I sometimes have trouble with the phones.”
Geoff nodded. The man smiled, apparently pleased that Geoff had come. Now Geoff felt he was back on safer ground. Perhaps they had just got off on the wrong foot? He’d read somewhere that a personal anecdote was a good way to break the ice. “Er, yes. It’s funny, actually, I think the others at work were playing a joke on me. They said there was no message, but I heard it clearly enough. Something to do with noises?”
The man’s shoulders sagged into a demeanour of complete resignation. “It’s incessant.”
A dark thought crept into Geoff’s mind. Perhaps, he realised, the reason the others couldn’t hear the message was because they’d had dealings with this strange man before. He placed his clipboard on the coffee table in front of him, then slowly removed his hard hat and placed it neatly alongside. What to do? Geoff decided to play it straight and be honest that he might not be the right man for the problem. “I see, it’s just that I don’t —”.
“A constant chorus of banging and creaking and shrieking,” the man went on in his gloomy tone.
Above them, as if on cue, floorboards creaked, reverberating around the room. Geoff glanced up. “I see. I just… I’m not…” When no further sounds came, Geoff looked back down at the man. He was clearly distressed about something. “OK. Who’s causing all this noise?”
“Him!” The gloomy man jabbed his pipe towards the ceiling. “The old man.”
The wind howled around the chimney pots, playing an eerie tune, not dissimilar to Geoff’s whistle. Geoff felt another shiver working its way up from his rear end. He forced it back. There was business to attend to. “Does he live here?”
“Feels like he’s been here forever.” The man’s shoulder’s sagged further. “Banging and screaming and —” A loud series of bangs and scrapes from upstairs forced the gloomy man into silence. He sighed. “24 hours a day.”
Geoff pulled a pen from his pocket and dragged his clipboard towards him. He was about to jot down some notes when the sound of a buzzsaw filled the room, followed by a man’s scream. Geoff looked up in alarm, and then at the man, who still wore a look of resignation on his face.
The man shrugged at Geoff’s alarm. “It never ends! I’d kill him, if I could. Excuse me for a moment.” The gloomy man hurried out through the open door into the hallway.
Geoff realised he’d been holding his breath and let it out in a puff. He glanced down at his watch. Clearly this was going to take a while. He pulled the clipboard further towards him and started scribbling notes.
A long banging and scraping caused him to misspell ‘noises’. He looked up in annoyance, then scribbled out the mistake and carried on writing. He became absorbed in his work. He noted down everything the man had said and what he had heard. He was almost finished when a piercing scream rent the air, making him jump up to his feet in alarm.
He looked about, hoping the gloomy man might have returned. He was still alone. What to do? He didn’t like these noises, and this was clearly one of those useless lumps in Environmental Health. He grabbed his hard hat and clipboard and hurried from the room.
Geoff paused at the foot of the stairs. He could hear voices somewhere up on the floor above. “Errr, I should be going now” he called. “Just got a call from the office, something urgent has come up.” He waited, hoping the gloomy man might appear. The sound of the clock ticking in the drawing room filled his ears. “Sir?”
Geoff frowned. He glanced at the front door. He couldn’t leave without letting the man know. He listened again and caught snatches of a conversation. Was it the man? He couldn’t be certain. He was sure he could hear the gloomy tones of the man, but it kept changing. Occasionally, it sounded like a girl whispering. He shook his head to clear the strangeness of it all. It would be rude to leave now, he thought. Manners maketh man! He took a deep breath and headed up the wide wooden stairs.
The stairs creaked and groaned under his feet. As he approached the top, the sound of the girl’s whispering became more distinct. He couldn’t make out what she was saying. It almost sounded like she was speaking Latin. Or backwards. Or both. It fair put the wind up him.
“Sir?” he called again as he paused at the top of the stairs. Corridors ran away to his left and right. To his right, the corridor ended in shadows. At the far end, he could just make out a wide, comfy chair next to a small table. The sound of the girl whispering became louder. He shook his head once more to try to clear it, as if it were a fly buzzing about his ears. As he looked back down the corridor to the right, his eyes widened in surprise.
A ghostly looking girl, lank hair dangling over her pale face, stood in front of the chair. Her face glowed in the half light, her eyes hidden in dark sockets. Slowly, her hand rose up to point at him as she began to shuffle towards him.
Geoff stared wide-eyed at the girl, frozen to the spot. He closed his eyes and slapped his hand across them for good measure. The sound of whispering stopped. He peeked out between his fingers. The girl was nowhere to be seen.
He let out a big sigh. “Pull yourself together, man.” He looked about, both corridors were empty. He caught the sound of the gloomy man, away to his left. He turned and moved along the corridor. “Excuse me? Mr…” He glanced at his notes and tutted as he realised he’d not actually asked the man his name. “I really should be going now. As I say, this isn’t really my area.”
An odd chuckling noise came from further down the corridor. Geoff moved slowly to the end of the corridor and peered round a corner into an almost pitch-black corridor running off at right angles. He could just make out two doors, one at the end of the corridor and one next to it on the right.
Geoff heard the chuckling again, and realised this corridor must run across the sitting room below. The gloomy man must be in one of those two rooms. Geoff shuffled into the darkness and reached out for the handle of the door in front of him. He stopped to listen. He could hear a rhythmic sound of something rocking backwards and forwards. Perhaps there was a child in here? He pushed the door open, but the room was devoid of any humans.
A host of dolls and teddy bears had been placed about the room, as if they were having a meeting. In the far corner, a rocking horse rocked all by itself. Geoff frowned at the strange scene, then chuckled to himself at the incongruity of it all.
Abruptly, the rocking horse stopped rocking. Geoff looked towards it and his heart leapt into his mouth as a red-haired doll looked around at him and laughed. Terrified, Geoff stumbled backwards out of the room, knocking into the other door, which burst open.
A bright-green light spilled out, along with the earsplitting shriek he’d heard earlier. Clapping his hands to his ears, he looked into the room, which wasn’t a room at all. Instead, Geoff found himself looking out across a dark and stormy moor. Lightning flickered constantly across the sky, illuminating a woman. She was standing some way off, her black shawl and dress flapping in the wind. She was young and beautiful, with rose-red lips, but her face was distorted by grief as she screamed and screamed like a… a Banshee!
Manners be damned, thought Geoff as he pulled himself away from the scene and along the short corridor. As he reached the junction with the main corridor, his heart almost stopped as he collided with a man waving a hammer. Geoff tumbled back onto the floor in a heap, panting and terrified. Covering his face lest he be attacked, he peered up at the mad hammer-wielding man.
The man with the hammer looked back down at him through cowled eyes. A light smile played across his lips as the hammer lowered to his side. “Are you alright?” the man asked.
Geoff took a deep breath and tried to steady his breathing. “No!” Geoff struggled to his feet and looked at the man, who he now saw was elderly, his left arm strapped to his chest, with blood seeping through the bandages. “What is all this?”
Geoff slumped back into the sofa in the living room.
Opposite him, the old man sat down and pointed to a decanter of whisky. “Help yourself, you look like you need a pick me up.”
Geoff placed his clipboard and hard hat back onto the coffee table, then reached for the decanter of whisky. He poured himself a healthy measure, then downed it in one. As the whisky burned its way down to his belly, he collected his thoughts. “I came here to —”
The old man held up a hand. “You’ll have to speak up, son. I’m a bit deaf.”
“Sorry, I came here to investigate a complaint about noises. I’m from the council.” Geoff pushed pulled his ID card from his pocket and pushed it across the table.
The old man leant forward and squinted at it. “Really? I wonder who could have done that?”
Geoff also leant forward and poured himself another drink. As he looked back at the old man, he jumped again, almost spilling the whisky across his clipboard. The gloomy man was now stood behind the old man. He was pointing to himself and looking at Geoff, but he didn’t say anything.
Geoff glanced about, wondering how the gloomy man had got there. The nearest door, next to the fireplace, was still firmly shut. He looked back at the old man. He needed some answers. This was all very suspicious. “What were all those… things upstairs?”
“Oh! Sorry about those.” The old man chuckled to himself. Geoff failed to see what was funny about any of this. “Did they scare you?”
Geoff snorted as he sipped his whisky. “You could say that.”
The old man grinned at him. “You see, I used to work in the film industry. Special FX. Still like to keep my hand in. It’s all a bit of fun.”
The gloomy man looked furious as he heard this and rolled his eyes at Geoff.
Geoff swallowed the last of the drink. He could feel the alcohol coursing through his veins now, easing his nerves. He also felt a lot happier that the terrifying things he’d witnessed had a perfectly rational explanation. He allowed himself to chuckle. “They are very realistic.”
“Thank you!” The old man beamed at him.
“Your house is very noisy,” Geoff went on, placing his glass on the table. “I can see why someone might want to complain.”
“Is it?” The old man looked genuinely puzzled and stared at his hammer for a few moments. “Well, I did have some hearing aids once. The damned batteries never seemed to last, though. Anyway, I can’t see who it’s affecting?”
Behind him, the gloomy man silently slapped his head.
“Although,” the old man went on, “there is this one person who likes to make calls.”
‘Me!’ mimed the gloomy man.
“But I can never really hear what he says. Even with my hearing aids in. It’s like he’s a long way away.”
A loud bang, followed by a metallic scraping noise, made them all look up.
“Oh, I should sort that out.” The old man struggled to his feet and shuffled towards the door in his worn corduroy slippers. “One moment.”
Geoff and the gloomy man watched him leave the room. Then the gloomy man sprung forward, taking up his position at the end of the sofa opposite Geoff.
“Do you see what I have to put up with?” he cried. “All the noise and the racket! Scary things jumping out at you! You haven’t seen the half of it yet. Some of them are hideous.”
Geoff gave the gloomy man a placating smile and held up his hands. “Well, yes, I see you have a point, but it’s not really something I can help with. I’m not the right person for domestic…” He trailed off as a thought struck him. He glanced back at his notes. “Sorry, you said earlier, “I’d kill him if I could”?”
The gloomy man cocked his head to one side. “Can’t kill what’s already dead.”
Geoff paused to take this in with a frown. Can’t kill… already dead. The words rattled around in his head for a few moments, and then the only conclusion he could draw presented itself to his mental faculties. “He’s a ghost? He’s haunting you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say he’s haunting me, as such.” The gloomy man, stuck his chin out, apparently pleased that Geoff seemed to be catching up.
Geoff pointed to the ceiling. “And I suppose all those other things I saw, they were real ghosts, too?”
“Of course they are! How would you feel with that girl creeping up on you every day?” The gloomy man held his hand to mimic the pointing girl. “And that whispering —”
At that moment, the old man shuffled back into the room. He stopped and looked at the gloomy man, who lowered his pointing hand, looking sheepish.
“What are you doing in here?,” the old man asked.
The gloomy man bristled. “I live here too, y’know.”
“I thought you preferred lurking about in the study?”
“Only because the study is the only place you haven’t put one of your infernal creations!”
The old man looked horror-struck. “Oh, you do not like my odes to the horror genre? Well, you never said!”
Geoff looked at the two bickering men and a rush of anger rose inside him. He jumped to his feet. “Hold on. HOLD ON!”
The two men continued to glare daggers at each other for a few moments before they turned their attention to Geoff.
“Look, I don’t know what is going on here, but it stops. Now. You’re just wasting my time. As if, for one minute, you expect me to believe,” Geoff pointed at the old man, “that he’s a ghost? Cos, he doesn’t even look like one!”
“Well, so is he,” the old man said in a petulant tone.
Geoff had had enough. “Oh, come on!” He was about to announce his immediate departure from the building when the gloomy man spoke.
“You see, I had this place all to myself. And then he turned up. His wife always hated the models he made. I tried to complain back then, but those old phones were… pfft… well.”
Geoff looked at the gloomy man. He was clearly deranged.
The gloomy man continued his rant. “And then, rather than join her after they both died, he stayed here and kept making them, with real… you know…”
“No.” Geoff was losing the will to live now.
“Ghosts!” the gloomy man concluded.
Geoff looked at the two men. “You’re pulling my chain!” He pointed to the ceiling once more. “They were just models.” He pointed at the two men in front of him. “And you’re not ghosts! I don’t know what sick game you’re both playing here but —”
The gloomy man sighed. With a blue fizzle and a pop, he vanished from sight, leaving a faint puff of smoke.
Geoff gaped, unsure of what he had just seen, his mind a static scream of nothingness. A few seconds passed, and then the gloomy man reappeared in a similar manner.
Geoff’s brain finally caught up with his motor senses. He bolted around the sofa towards the doors covered by the curtains, hoping they would lead outside. Behind him, the two ghosts continued to bicker.
“Show off!” the old man said.
“Am not!” the gloomy man retorted.
Fear flooded Geoff as he yanked back the curtains and shoved on the doors. As they opened, a fearsome beast, looking like the unholy conjoining of a polar bear and a hyena, launched itself at him. Geoff slammed the doors back closed. The creature crashed into them, blood and spittle spattered the glass as it struck.
Behind Geoff, he could hear the old man wittering away. “Well, why don’t you ring him up with your frankly pathetic phone ringing powers, too?”
The beast scrabbled at the door handles as Geoff clung onto them for dear life. Rabid eyes peered at him through the glass.
“They are not pathetic!” the gloomy man said. “He could hear me! That’s why he’s here! It worked! And I don’t ring phones, I use my hard-earned powers of telekinesis!”
The beast slunk away from the door with a low growl. Geoff turned on his heels and ran towards the door next to the fireplace, praying there were no hideous creatures through there. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw nothing but a dining room table. As he darted through and spun round to the right, he heard the gloomy man announce proudly, “I even managed to open the front door!”
Geoff stopped dead. He realised with some concern that he was now so terrified, he could not feel any more so. Ahead of him was a giant spider. Millions of its offspring crawled all over the wall behind it. The great hairy creature looked around at Geoff, then let forth a vicious hiss. Geoff spun on the spot. He sprinted to the other end of the dining room and burst through the door there. He found himself back in the hallway, at the opposite end to the front door. Relief flooded into him. He hurried forward and rounded the corner to come face to face with the pointing ghost girl. The last thing he heard as he collapsed onto the floor was her horrid backwards latin whispering.
Geoff wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious for. In fact, he didn’t really remember getting up and walking along the corridor, which was now mercifully free of pointing girls. He heard the old man in the front room saying, “You’ve scared our friend!” He looked at the front door and realised that if he wanted to leave, he’d better grab his hard hat and clipboard.
The strange thing was, he couldn’t really remember what he needed them for. He shrugged and ambled into the living room.
The two men were still where he’d last seen them, staring daggers at each other. They both looked around at him. The gloomy man then did something Geoff would have guessed he’d not done in a very long time. He smiled and said “Welcome!”
The old man looked at the gloomy man, confused by the reaction. Then he looked back at Geoff and realisation dawned on his face, surprise lighting up his features. He looked back at the gloomy man, and they said together, “He’s one of us now!”
Geoff’s brain still felt addled. “Sorry?”
The gloomy man turned to Geoff. “Come on.” He led them back out into the hallway.
The three of them bustled through to the foot of the stairs and looked down the corridor.
Geoff’s mortal body lay slumped at the far end. The ghost girl was stood next to him once more, pointing.
“Thank you, Deirdre,” the old man said.
The ghost girl rolled her eyes and fizzled away in a puff of blue sparks and smoke.
“What happened?” Geoff said.
“Heart attack,” the gloomy man said. The old man nodded his agreement to the diagnosis.
Geoff thought his brain should be reeling at this. But he only felt a lightness. He wondered whether he should be angry, or scared, or both. Instead, he simply felt… beatific.
The gloomy man turned to Geoff and offered him a stiff bow. He held out his hand. “Brian Trimble. 1845 to 1900.”
Geoff smiled weakly and shook the gloomy man’s hand.
The old man harrumphed at the gloomy man’s theatrics, but also held out a hand. He paused for a moment, and his face fell. “I’ve forgotten my name!”
The gloomy man sighed. “Malcolm Rearden.”
“Ah, yes. Malcolm Rearden. 1908 to…” he looked to the gloomy man for confirmation. “1994?” The gloomy man nodded.
Geoff shook the old man’s hand. “Geoffrey Parkinson,” he said. “1965 to, ah…”
“About Thirty seconds ago?” Gloomy Man said.
Somewhere above them, a werewolf howled. All three men looked up. The old man smiled contentedly, while the gloomy man tutted and groaned.
“Oh dear,” Geoff said.
The gloomy man put his arm around Geoff and led him away down the corridor. “Right, now, what can you do about the infernal racket this old fool keeps making?”
“Oh, I see, like that is it?” the old man said, following them. “I think you’ll find that my creations might be infernal, but they require a skill and artistry rarely found in the unearthly realms!”
“Twaddle, sir!” the gloomy man said. “They’re a ruddy nuisance.”