Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

  Tor padded along the blood-drenched walkway. Bodies lay strewn against the white steel walls, missing limbs, but he refrained from temptation and hunger pangs.             When he boarded the ship a month ago, the motion sensor overhead lighting had proven a useful feature but now it was just relentless; an artificial stalker pursuing him through unexplored shadow. He could hear every slight click as a new bulb flickered into life. If he stood still too long, some even whined.             He raised himself onto his hindlegs and turned to a starboard window to marvel at the perfect dark beyond. Deep space, approaching galactic central point. The SS Chieftain was nearing its destination, a planet with inhabitable conditions. As soon as Ulrich had confirmed that the voyage was two months from arrival, Tor had ordered the attack. Not so much a massacre as a targeted deple...

  “Newton, I’m a scientist, damn it! I don’t believe in this mumbo jumbo spiritual nonsense. What are you babbling about, what has gotten into you?” “It’s time.” “Time for what? Curses and Voodoo? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” “Dr Angström, Helga, I am answering the question you asked me to analyse. The recurrence of the year of darkness is confirmed every 250 years since the first recorded incident in 536. There are indications that it may have been active prior to that date but there is insufficient corroborated data to confirm an incident in the year 286 or any time before that.” Papers leapt into the air as I slammed my fist down onto the desk. “What am I supposed to do with rumours, legend and tales of werewolves? This will ruin my career, I’ll never get funding for anything again.” The machine said nothing, blank monitor where a face should have been, stared back with a few blinking lights. I’d made it that way, it could even make smiley faces, to enter...

Diary of Georgiana Newton 16 June 1786, Weymouth   So, we came here, to Weymouth, anyway.  Mother insisted.  She has such high ambitions.  She had heard that, despite the tragedy that had beset this coastline earlier in the year, and the lack of sunlight, the Duke of Gloucester would be in residence in Gloucester Lodge for the summer.  Mother is keen that I should make the acquaintance of his daughter, Princess Sophia, as a friendship with her could be the key to helping us rise in society.  And so, we have spent some dismal days promenading beside the sea, in hopes of making the acquaintance of the Duke’s wife, Maria, the Princess Sophia and her younger brother.  We should usually see the white cliffs to the left of the bay, and at this time of year, at least, some days of golden sun and blue sky, but this year has been like no other I have ever known.  The muddy haze in the sky has never lifted, like a constant storm is brewing.  Moll...

(Historical note: 1534 was the beginning of the Dissolution of the Monasteries. In 1536, the first closures started, including Haltemprice Priory, near Hull. The Pilgrimage of Grace began in this year too.) I’d hoped to end my days with an endless round of peace and reason. Now all I know, all I want, is to fulfil my need for revenge. They should never have come here.   I’m not saying my early life was without trouble. It wasn’t – though we got along, my mother and I. But she had her problems and so we moved around from place to place, never settling for long, never making those close friends you can rely on when times get hard. Sometimes she would disappear for a day, a night, sometimes two. But she always came back. Tired, listless, not wanting to eat for hours, but at least she was there for me. Kept me safe.   That was until I followed her, one dark evening. That was when I found out what she was really like, how her temper raged, how she changed and knew that ...

  The battered box was flung high up on the shingle, tipping over.   A shrill wail mixed feebly with the raging of the wind, but somehow Wymon heard it. He turned, searching for the source until another jagged flash of lightning showed the outline of the container. As the waves began to drag it back into the sea, Wymon stumbled forward, tripping over the debris littering the beach, but succeeded in grabbing the chest and heaving it up onto his shoulder.   In the slight shelter given by the harbour wall, he opened the lid. Staring down into the dark eyes of a newborn baby, he knew that his wife’s prayers had been answered.   ****   ‘You mustn’t go out, Erica. They say tonight will be the worst we have ever known.’ ‘But I love the storms, Mother. The sounds, the sea in its rage; so powerful. Something in me stirs when I hear it, when the rain lashes down on my skin and the sky is lit with fire.’ ‘Aye, your father always says you’re like the storm t...

  We set sail on the eve of another year of darkness. The signs were not auspicious but we had no choice. Our crops had failed and we believed that now would be a good time to journey to a more providential land, though a land, that we had heard was in flux. “Have we enough provisions to sustain the journey, brother?” Bjorn said. “I hope so, brother. Fear not, the Lord will carry us safely through our voyage,” Erik replied. Helga walked to the back of the boat and looked out across the shadowy horizon. The sea was eerily calm. It was as if they were gliding over a huge lake. The only light was from their flickering fire torches, that guided their path through the sea. Helga shivered as she thought of the tales that the skalds told, of the giant sea creatures that lurked out of the gloom and swallowed longships whole, like the serpent, Jörmungandr. If the tales were true, she was sure that they’d appear on a night like tonight, for it felt like something was about to happen. T...

  With a roar, Erik raised his shield to block the cut to his head and retaliated with a blow to his opponent’s side. His sword clattered against the other man’s shield and his opponent laughed. Erik sounded his battle cry again and lunged forward, swinging his own sword at his rival’s skull. But the other man caught it on his blade and turned his shield into a weapon, bashing Erik with such force he was sent sprawling to the floor. Both sword and shield were torn from his hand. He reached for the circular wooden board to defend himself but Bjorn placed a firm foot on his arm and laughed a second time. “It’s over, brother. Today’s victory is mine.” Erik merely grunted, but he took Bjorn’s hand when his brother offered it to him and got to his feet. Worry crept into Bjorn’s features, his eyes raised skyward now. Erik turned to look for himself and his eyes widened. They watched with growing dread as a shadow rolled across the sky. Like a black mist it swept over the land, ...