The Long Grass

A ghost story?

THE LONG GRASS

 

The night before leaving for her trip to pay a visit to a place she had long ago forgotten about, Nerissa had planned every detail down to the most insignificant. She didn’t believe in taking any object of clothing she would most likely not use. She was going towards the coast, and had conveniently remembered what the weather might have in store for her. At the same time she didn’t have a very clear reason as to why she was going away, or why that part of the country. The early morning leaving had been delayed to nearly midday through no fault of her own. The men in her life were more or less useless, due to her having pandered to them far too long. Brogan, her husband, had repeated the same questions about where she was going to stay, and if she had enough money on her, and what shopping should he do while she was gone, so many times that Nerissa had been on the point of staying at home.

She left a message on the fridge with the information regarding the meals she had prepared and had placed in the freezer, the clothes had been washed and ironed, the house deep-cleaned. There wasn’t very much for him to do at all. The children were away from home with friends or on courses, so Brogan had only himself to worry about. Of course, he could go with her, but he had said he didn’t like leaving the house empty. When the idea had occurred to her to have a nostalgic trip, Brogan had categorically stated that she would have to go alone or not go at all, as he had no intention of going anywhere. Nerissa said she would go alone, as she did to so many things. When she was younger, she wondered what Brogan actually did when he was on his own. Years later she didn’t even ask herself that question any more.

 

The nostalgic drive would take her, with no problems, two and a half hours. At two o’clock she stopped and ate a cheese roll, and drank water from a bottle she had kept in a small travel bag. Fifteen minutes later she started up again. The long road with barely a bend in it, snaked out in front of her. The countryside became sand-dunes with long rush-like grass, and parallel to that was a long straight ribbon of a silvery grey sea. The grey white sky loomed overhead to finish off the picture of total colourlessness. It was the sort of day that the traveller doesn’t know whether it will rain or hold off till night has come. Nerissa drove without taking in anything of what was exterior to the car. The scenery was indifferent to her, the only thing on her mind being to arrive at her destination as soon as possible.

As afternoon became windier and colder, Nerissa drove steadily along the smooth surface of the road. The car suddenly stalled, and then stopped dead. She tried revving the engine up, but to no avail. The car had stopped, and that was that. The petrol gauge showed that the tank was empty. Nerissa sat inside the warm car and stared through the windscreen and began thinking. The grass was shivering in the wind, and waves were showing themselves more clearly. In past times the whole area had been under water and the authorities had set about reclaiming the land. The work had resulted in being hard and heavy and full of problems, but in the end enough land had emerged from beneath the sea to protect the nearby towns. The dunes and the long grass were what were left of their appearance when they had formed part of the sea bed. Nerissa settled down in her seat and closed her eyes, and wondered what it must have looked like when still under water.

 

On that never to be forgotten night a century or so ago, the villagers were woken up by the ringing of the church bell warning of a flood. The night was cold and dark, those who hadn’t retired for the night yet, stood up and went to their front doors or their upstairs windows. The vision that met their eyes was the worst they had ever seen. The sea was suffering a great agony. Huge waves were pounding the rocks, the ships in the port were being loosened from their moorings. Sounds of walls being broken up, and animals screaming, were added to the general mayhem. There was no moon, and the stars weren’t doing much either. There was no light whatsoever to alleviate the dark, almost totally black, night. Shouts of men’s voices could be heard, but what they were actually saying was unintelligible. The waves kept coming, and rose up high in suspension over the ages old protective wall. Whatever stories survivors told, no one was even able to depict the horror of that night. Those who were there were the only witnesses to the events.

The following day the village by the sea had to all intents and purposes been totally destroyed. Bodies were floating on the surface of the then not so angry sea. Animal carcasses, bits of furniture, carts and clothing, were all to be found lying near the water’s edge.

 The village authorities held emergency meetings and didn’t take long in coming to the decision of holding the sea back at a considerable distance from the village and the surrounding countryside. Specialists were called in, and the land that had been submerged since the dawn of time was revealed to everybody’s eyes. A high sea wall protecting the port was built, and the addition of a horseshoe-shaped entrance to the harbour, made it more difficult for the enormous waves to enter and destroy it all again. The land that emerged from beneath the deep sea over the years became sand dunes. The long grass was a reminder of what had originally been the topography of the region.

 

Nerissa felt stiff and cold, and rubbed her hands in an effort to put some warmth and circulation back into them. In all the time she had been asleep, no other vehicle had passed by. She got out of the car, to take a look in the boot to see whether there was anything to eat. Nerissa unlocked the boot and with the aid of a torch she carefully looked inside. There was a can of petrol, and when she shoo,k it the sound told her it was full. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? There was a rucksack with emergency rations of a bottle of water, biscuits, chocolate and crisps. The can of petrol was poured into the car and the cap screwed back on, and after returning the can to the boot, she closed it, and got back into the car. 

“How on earth didn’t I remember there was a can of petrol in the boot? The emergency rations the same. What on earth’s the matter with me?” she said to herself, with a mouth full of chocolate, starting the car up.

Then she remembered. The petrol and the rucksack with the snacks inside it, had been bought the previous summer, just in case she ran out when she was on holiday. By that time, the sky had become a very dark blue and the only light on the road was from her headlamps streaming out in front of her.

 

All of a sudden she felt a lot better, and continued driving, but with keenness accompanied by a sense of strangeness. It was as if she had lived it all before. Perhaps she had! The black outline of a large house came into view, and Nerissa knew that it was her destination. She drove right up to the front door and got out. She put her car keys on a string round her neck.

 

Her host must have been waiting for her because, without her having to knock he opened the door to her, and she entered. There was a party going in full flow. A woman she wasn’t sure she knew, approached her, and said, “You’re late,” and moved away. Nobody paid her any attention, and Nerissa picked up a plate and went to the long table to get some food. There was so much, it was a miracle the table was still standing upright. The couples were more interested in dancing than eating. Nerissa couldn’t understand that, because the food was so good.

Nerissa tried speaking to the party-goers, who were standing around smoking and drinking, but no one paid her any attention. “I’ll have a little mooch around this house and see what the rest of it is like,” she thought. There were so many rooms, and she steadily and carefully went from room to room, memorising any details that attracted her attention.

Upstairs were all bedrooms, dressing rooms, and bathrooms. They were all lavishly furnished and showed there was no shortage of money. Not a penny had been spared. There was also a vast collection of palms which, considering the climate, was rather out of place. Still, Nerissa paid little attention to the plants. The nightwear of the guests was laid out on the beds, and the bed covers had been pulled back - but by whom?

A lot of work had been done with the food and drink, and everything was so clean, there had to be a staff somewhere. The top floor inspection over, Nerissa returned downstairs by the curved staircase. To her right, when she stepped from the stairs to the floor, was a closed door. She opened it very carefully. At the far end of the room, there were windows that looked out onto a garden and the beach. Against the far end wall on the right, there was a table covered by strange toys. They were all antiques, and she realized as soon as she picked one up, that they all functioned by clockwork. Nerissa wound the key in a carousel, and put it back in its place on the table. The figures began turning and a tiny sound of music came forth. Nerissa was immensely pleased. She returned it to its place, and began trying out the other toys. There were spinning tops, trains, cars, buses, and farm vehicles, all operating by clockwork. There was nothing which was new or modern, and all the toys were in pristine condition.

The furniture in the toy room was antique, as was the rest of the house, as far as she could see. There were some tall palms in giant pots standing by the window. Nerissa went up to the window and stared out at the dark landscape and the sea with its strong waves. She opened the French window, and felt the wind on her face. She closed the window, and as she did so she gave a shudder. She went back to where they were still dancing and thought she saw Brogan, but that wasn’t possible.

 

All of a sudden she wanted to go home, and left the house and got into her car.

 

The journey home was in the reverse direction and she had the countryside on her right instead of on her left. It was past midnight when Nerissa saw her home. She parked in her usual spot and got out and went indoors.

Nerissa had taken her time in getting out of the car with her things. She hadn’t stayed away long, not even for one night. After a quick hot shower to rid her body of the cold, she got into bed beside a warm and fast-asleep Brogan. It took no time at all for the tiredness she had fought all the way back home, to take over and she, too, was soon in the land of Nod.

 

In the early hours of the morning Nerissa woke up. Brogan was still fast asleep, but Nerissa’s head was full of what she had seen. What puzzled her most was how clear and vivid everything in the house had been. She couldn’t remember the faces very well, however, things belonging to the house, yes. Her head ached from so much concentrated thought. She carefully got out of bed and staggered downstairs to the kitchen, opened a cupboard and took out painkilling tablets, which she swallowed down with water. There was a fierce wind outside and she stared at the trees with their branches moving around in the strong gusts. The sight reminded her of the long grass on the dunes swaying in the wind. Brogan didn’t stir when she got back into bed. Good job! She wouldn’t have to answer any questions about why she had gone downstairs in the middle of the night.

 

A long time after her trip out in the country, one evening, Nerissa was watching a programme on television about ghostly experiences. Some people had been driving out on a main road that all of a sudden had entered a medieval village, passed through it, and had been out on the main road again. One of the guests was a man who had seen the burnt out ruins of a large house in the spot Nerissa had visited. The ruins were no more. He had felt very strange and on returning to his hotel had asked about the ruins. He was informed that there were no ruins left. After the fire on the twenty-fifth of October, in the year of nineteen hundred, the house had been converted into ash. The few standing walls were considered dangerous and a contractor had cleared up the sight. Nerissa had visited the ghostly house on the hundredth anniversary of the fire. Some clockwork toys had been found amongst all the detritus that hadn’t suffered much damage and were now in a museum.

 

Nerissa said nothing to Brogan.

 

The house had once belonged to his ancestors.C