The other Gothic Horror

 Gothic Horror

This is going to be more a Gothic Horror than a Gothic Romance.

The night was still, only the sound of cicadas broke the silence, yet, there was nothing sinister on the mind of Alan Norris - the explorer - whose return from Africa had been lauded by the press as a great victory for science.

He had tracked down the African deity Akuji, and put to rest the fears of the natives in the area; though some said Akuji could never be conquered. Tribal rumor said that Akuji could travel anywhere with a man, once he had contact with him, Alan paid no attention to the rumour, he was a man of science, after all.

Even, though he didn't believe in the rumour of Akuji, Alan had taken the time to read the book, so he knew what he could expect.

Since the retirement of Sir Charles Palmerston, the year before, the world of exploration was without a hero, until Alan strode into action. Charles’s hunt for Lord Percy Fawcett had cost the lives of several friends, and Charles realised how close he’d come to death when he was struck by a spear and would have died if not for the swift assistance from a friend.

After this close call with death, Charles had said he wasn’t going on another venture, but Alan knew Charles couldn’t stay cooped indoors for long; it was a matter of waiting until he felt like taking the plunge again.

Alan had been brought up in India, and travelled with his father in his hunt for spectres, though his father believed in spectres, Alan was doubtful of their existence, to say the least. He said, "I can't believe anything I have not seen."

Before setting off from his club in London, Alan had heard a rumour that Charles was planning another trip, this time in time and space. The rumour was he had a key in his possession that could open a time portal; again, this was too unbelievable to be more than a fad - or was it - Charles had been a keen studier of science during his days in college. The rumour was he’d opened the portal once, stepped in, and came back almost a decade later, though to Charles the time appeared to be mere minutes.

Though Charles was a very close friend, Alan didn’t accept the claims made without evidence, but tonight, there was other business to attend to “Charles can wait until tomorrow,” he said as he walked along Murtle Road, on his way to the inn for a drink before taking his evening stroll to the docks to view the ships heading to the port.

It had been a long time since Alan had ventured to the seas, he came from a family who were fishermen, but he rarely felt at ease either in the water, or on the water. 

Akan turned off Murtle Road, and headed down Grove Street on his way to the “The Three Captains,” the inn where he usually spent a few hours listening to tales told by seamen who had returned home. Some of the stories  he knew to be true as the story was so old and told so often by various men it was hard to believe it wasn’t true.

This night was to be like no other for Alan, as he entered the inn, the air thick with the tar from pipe smoking, he noticed a chilly atmosphere among the patrons, as if they were expecting something to happen.