All Stories, General Fiction, Horror, Short Fiction, Writing

Baara by Hugh Cron

Charlie knew where he was going.

He’d always seen darkness and accepted it.

Whether it be the folks around him and the shit they indulged in, or the shadows that moved when they shouldn’t, he knew there was something there and it was feeding.

Charlie didn’t know what it was, but he knew where it was. He felt it every time he walked past. He found it slightly amusing that those who worshipped didn’t know where they were worshipping or what they were worshipping to.

There was a link from religion to feeding it. For every rendition of ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’ it became stronger. No fucker from the everyday clergy had considered that. Although those fuckers in the Vatican probably knew. It was scary what they knew!

He walked through the woods and over the bridge and into the grounds of the ‘Auld Kirk’. There was no point on sneaking up, protecting himself, or doing anything because he knew that it knew he was coming.

Charlie had no bible, no holy water and probably most worryingly, no faith. But he knew he had to do something.

…He did have bolt cutters, petrol, fire lighters and a box of matches. He’d lifted these on impulse and reckoned that the bolt cutters were to take out the chain across the door, the rest, well those spoke for themselves.

Charlie got to the door and used the cutters to get through the chain but he wondered how he was going to get through the locked door.

The door opened and he heard the voice. It was quite sweet and child-like, female.

“I knew you would come Charlie.”

“I thought you would.”

“Aren’t you frightened?”

“No. But you know that.”

A few candles flickered into life.

“For you Charlie.”

“Thank you.”

“Why are you here?”

Charlie moved forward and sat on the first pew.

“Because of you. I know that you are here and I had to do something about you.”

The voice giggled, “Do you think that you can take me on?”

“Probably not.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“Then why are you here?”

“I had to try to do something.”

“Leave Charlie. I like you, so leave.”

“I can’t.”

Charlie felt the pew move as she sat down beside him. He smelled a hint of lavender and sage.

“Charlie…Charlie…What am I going to do with you?”

“You could leave alone and fuck off.”

“Tut-tut – What bad language!”

“I know that you are here and I thought that would be enough for you to go.”

“Really Charlie?? You have only ‘seen’ my good side and that’s because I like you…So I’d ask you to go and I will let you live your life if you give me the same courtesy. You know that it doesn’t matter what you do because no-one will believe you.”

Charlie sighed. He looked up at the alter but couldn’t pray.

“I know.”

“Well lets just part as friends and there will be no harm done.”

Charlie felt the tears run down his cheeks, “But that isn’t true, there will be plenty harm done.”

“Are you sure?”


Charlie got up and went around the pews and picked up all the Hymn Books.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sure that you get the idea!”

“Charlie…Don’t do this, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Yes. But I’ll take you with me.”

“Trust me Charlie, you won’t!”

Charlie ripped out some pages and scattered them. He then threw the books on and over-turned two pews onto the pile.

“You can have me but make sure that you switch off the sprinklers and alarm system and promise to leave this place.”

He heard a sigh.

“You know what two I will do for you, the sprinklers and the alarm will be turned off until you’re done.”

Charlie threw down his fire-lighters.

“You will need to come with me.”

She giggled again, “And why is that?”

“Because I know. I knew that you were here and I know that this is what’ll stop you.”

“Go for it Charlie and I do like you. But I’m sorry that you believe this because you’re in for a whole lot of pain.”

Charlie lit the fire lighters, the books caught and the flames began to lick the pews.

“Charlie – I promise you, this is going to hurt.”

“I don’t care, I know that I’ll take you with me.”

“I’ll give you one last chance – You have been right with everything but not this.”

Charlie smiled, “You can’t bluff a bluffer.”

He poured the petrol over his head and choked as he walked towards the fire. The fumes lit. Charlie dropped down onto it and started to scream. An invisible weight held him in place.

When the pain turned to shock and the shock brought death, the sprinklers came on and a little girl laughed.

Hugh Cron

9 thoughts on “Baara by Hugh Cron”

  1. Hugh
    I see Charlie in a Judas sense because he cannot be certain if he is acting on his own or is being directed by another hand.
    Perhaps a member of the League of The Easily Offended will stop by and tell me about it. Members of that organization (aka “Tools”) excel at locating offense in the virtual world yet do little about the horrors out the front door.
    This one has your innate edge to it and says more than the sum of its words.

    Just got word that the latest meeting of League of the Easily Offended spontaneously combusted in the fires of self righteousness. Well, nature abhors a vacuum, same goes for Tools. God will make more.

    Take care and keep up the fight!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Hi Leila,
      Thanks as always.
      I’ve been thinking on ‘Tools’, ‘The Sensitives’, ‘The Enraged’, The Outraged’ and those of the ‘Woke Community’ and I’ve came to a conclusion…None of them will ever be able to write. Simply because their narrow minds, lack of exploration and total disregard for any other opinions will somewhat hamper their creative process. Actually that statement is wrong, they don’t have a creative process as their beliefs would make it very difficult for them to imagine anything other than their own sociopathic ideologies.
      Thank fuck the writers of times gone by didn’t need to deal with all this nonsense. They had real oppression, poverty and overall life hardship to inspire.


      1. Hugh
        That’s right. Nothing gets written that must adhere to an agenda, Not a hell of a lot of good literature came out of usually artistic Germany when the Nazis were running the show. If you cannot examine the structure you wind up like Solzhenitsyn did in Russia or Mr. Rushdie who was attacked last year.


    1. Hi David,
      Thanks so much.
      I do find children very unsettling. (I’m being kind there!) And I did consider simply leaving it as a child’s voice but I think it was more unsettling if it was one or the other. The reason that I chose a wee girl is due to my (At the time!) angelic looking eight year old niece when she asked to go fishing with her dad and her brother. My brother-in-law was worried on how she would react when they killed the fish but he needn’t have worried as when her brother was just about to finish it off she stated in a sweet voice, ‘Go on Rikki, stave it’s heid in!’
      Thanks again my fine friend.- Your continual interest in my work humbles me!!


  2. No need Diane! She is a sweetheart.
    Now, she’s over thirty and next month will have her first kid.
    …I wonder if they will ever go fishing?


  3. Hi Hugh,

    I have struggled with your story to understand Charlie and concluded he feels exactly like me. All religions are exclusive and only those people who are inclusive of their chosen faith will tell you otherwise, and yet they become contradictory and absurd. Generally, I avoid any comments on religion because I refuse to discuss the repetitive, hollow echoes from the endless void.
    I can understand how Charlie becomes disturbed and seeks defiance through the purity of fire. Is that not how they once described their justification for burning witches?
    On a lighter note, the song “Burn” by Ellie Goulding summarises your character Charlie, in my mind at least.
    “”’Cause we got the fire, fire, fire, yeah we got the fire fire fire
    And we gonna let it burn burn burn burn
    We gonna let it burn burn burn burn””

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Hi James,
    Thanks so much for your comments, they are, as always, much appreciated.
    I was thinking a sort of cleansing idea. What was being cleansed is up to the reader.
    My two favourite songs about fire are both by the same singer.
    ‘I’m On Fire’ by Springsteen is excellent but ‘Fire’ is exceptional.
    To be honest, now-a-days, the song of his that resonates most with me is ‘Glory Days’!!
    Hope all is well with you and yours!


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