After several hours, the group of friends finally arrived at their destination. Hopping off the bus one by one, they all thanked the driver, except for Tiffany, who stuck out her tongue and made a face.
As their feet touched the lush, green carpet of grass, what came into view was the majestically picturesque scenery of the Shropshire countryside, where, dotted here and there, trees scattered all across the landscape. In the faraway horizon, the amber sun was slowly sinking.
"Wow! This feels like a wonderland!" admired Blythe. Only when the bus gradually drove away were they suddenly engulfed by a suffocating sensation of solitude.
"Where are we going now?" enquired Jeffrey as he shuddered, as if trying in vain to shake away the loneliness.
"We have to ask the guard to take us there," replied Tiffany laconically, pointing to a tiny, wooden hut hidden behind some bushes. She seemed utterly unaware of either the picturesque scenery or the sense of solitude. On the conclusion of her speech, Tiffany led the way towards the hut whilst the grass gently rustled under their feet, as if whispering a terrible secret.
As they entered the dimly-lit cottage, the guard - Mr Rogers, a middle-aged ginger man wearing a green suit, was sitting behind a tattered, moth-bitten desk. On seeing the arrival of the group of friends, he welcomed them with great civility and warmness, talking with a cheery attitude, probably in part caused by not having spoken to anyone for the whole day. Nevertheless, when Shaun enquired about details of the 'Ghost Pirate Ship', the face of Mr Rogers darkened and his smile quickly faded away. He shuddered and glanced around, as if checking that no one was eavesdropping, before commencing his speech.
"That was the scariest experience of my entire life, the memory of which I will probably take to my very own grave," whispered the man, who suddenly appeared ten years older under the dim light of the fading sun. "It was my second day here as a guard, around several weeks ago when the majority of the work for this fairground was already complete. I was unfortunate enough to be assigned the night shift, and when I was patrolling around the fairground, close to that accursed ship, the sound of waves caught my attention. As my entire family had been seafaring men and I've lived close to the sea ever since my childhood, I could not have been mistaken about that familiar noise that used to be my lullaby as a child. Taken by curiosity, I walked towards the ship, only to discover that it appeared to be filled with people. They were crowding around the deck, women were screaming, men were shouting and children were crying. It seemed exactly like the scene of a thunderstorm. Then, suddenly, a Victorian woman with long, braided, golden haired appeared in front of me, she glided rapidly towards me, revealing a ghostly, pale face. I suddenly lost my consciousness, and the next morning, they found me lying on the deck. Afterwards, I enquired about the origins of the ship, only to learn that it had encountered a shipwreck, which had killed all its passengers, leaving it to float by itself on the sea before landing at the dock in Liverpool a few years ago. That's why they called it 'The Demon Ship.'"
After his speech has concluded, Mr Rogers breathed in a deep breath; then he took out his water bottle and sipped some water from it before proceeding with his previous, cheery tone, "Aaaanyways, enough chit chat. I'll take you to the ship like you've requested!"
The group of friends were led outside the hut, only to discover that the sun were long gone, transforming the surroundings into a moonless sky. Quietly, without the friends noticing, a mist had gradually stolen in around them. The feeble ray of the oil lamp in the guard's hand chased away layers of darkness, which, as thick as velvet, engulfed the surroundings, suffocating them all.
"There it is!" Mr Rogers pointed to a Victorian ship in the near distance and remarked. "I'll only take you as far as this. I ain't going nowhere near that accursed ship at night ever again. Goodbye and good luck! Hahahaha!" After laughing a weird laughter, Mr Rogers gave his oil lamp to Jeffrey and hurried back to his little hut.
~To be Continued~
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