I would just like to say a big thank you to everybody who works on h2g2 and everybody who makes the site possible. Let us hope the New Year brings them and everyone else on h2g2, happiness.

THANK YOU!

The fire burned fiercely. No human could withstand the intensity of the flames.

'I should have known!'

moaned James to his newly met companion.
'I should have seen it coming.'

'We all make mistakes!'

said John, trying to console his new friend.

'Not like mine.'

replied James in a deep, depressing voice.
'Never like mine.'

'Tell me.'

whispered John.

'Tell me.'

'Okay then/

said James, and he began his tale.

'It was a dark and stormy night. The rain was beating down on my face as I cycled home. I lived in a small village called Hackly. My grandparents lived in a village four miles away. I can never remember the name. I'd just been to visit them that day, and had just started my journey home when the heavens opened above me and the rain begun its relentless assault.'

'After about two miles of this I could take no more, and looked for shelter. The only thing in sight was a dark, mysterious old house. Its whole demur suggested there was something evil about this place, but I was not superstitious, and did not take any notice of this.'

'I got off my bike and leant it against the wet, broken wall. It slid down the smooth surface and landed in the soft mud. I left it there in my rush to get to shelter. I pushed open the front gate. It moved swiftly open with a ghostly silence. I ran along the slippery wet path to get to the door. I slipped and fell, crashing my head on the concrete path. I got straight back up, and continued my journey to the old house.'

'I came up to the front door. It was a large wooden door, battered and broken. Time had got the better of it. I tapped lightly on it. Nobody answered. I tapped louder. Still, no one answered. I started to knock loudly. Still, nobody answered. I was banging now, with all my might, making sure each thud that struck the worn out door could be heard throughout the house. Once again, nobody answered.

I'd had enough now. I started to push on the door, trying to force my way in. I could feel the door breaking from the hinges. But it wouldn't budge. This was just too much. I pulled myself away, stepped a few steps back, and got ready to barge the door open in one last attempt to get in. I began my run, making sure with each small step I gained speed. I got closer and closer to the target. But then the worst of things happened. I slipped on the wet path and went flying forward. I prepared myself to strike the door but before I even touched it, it swung open. I flew through the open space and knocked my head on the edge of a table just inside the house. I felt my consciousness slipping away from me, but I could still realise that the door was closed, by the sound of an extremely large bang. Then everything around me turned black.'

James stopped talking, and walked over to a table. It was a long, dark brown dining table. There were six wooden chairs on each side of the table, all the same. At the end of the table was a large chair, made of gold and decorated with diamonds and rubies. It looked as if it was made for a king.

On the table was a dusty old book with a bold title engraved on the front. 'BLOOD OF SATAN'. The words sent shivers down John's back. He pulled himself off the large, beast-like chair he had been sitting on and walked over to the book. His fear grew as he crept nearer and nearer to the book. When he was within reaching distance of the book, a ghostly evil sensation took control of him, and opened it.

'Satan's blood marks the journey to hell.'

The voice that echoed in Johns' ears sent him tumbling to the hard, wooden floor.

'Until the blood is gone, the evil LIVES!'

John crawled along the floor and pulled himself back into the beast-like chair. His heart was beating faster then ever before.

'Will you help me?'

asked James, pointing to the bloodstains on the edge of the table.

'Okay.'

replied John.

'But first, tell me. What happened next?'

James stood still, motionless, for thirteen seconds, before continuing his tale.

'When I regained consciousness, I was in a small room. It was dark. The only thing that provided light was a small candle on the table beside me. The shadows were like movies, acting out scenes of violence. I picked up the candle and shone it around. All around me were weapons. Daggers, ropes, guns, poisons and blunt instruments. This room was a place of torture. I looked down on the carpet. It was mainly white, except for a patch of red in the far corner. I put my hand on my head. Blood. I quickly looked around for a door of some kind. There was none. Just walls. I opened cupboards and looked for secret entrances, but all I found was weapons. I voice echoed throughout the tiny room.'

'Can you hear me?'

'The sadistic sound rang through my ears, as I frantically searched for a means of escape.'

'Can you hear me?'

The voice said again.

'I picked up an axe and started hitting the wall with it, hoping to break myself a way out.'

Let me OUT!

'I screamed with all my might, as the axe just cut through the weak wallpaper.'

'Join me!'

said the voice in a dark tone that suggested evil.

'There is only one way out of this room.'

'I stopped, as I realised what was meant. I turned the axe so that it faced me, it's point aimed at my weak skull. I let go of the axe and let ghostly evil that was in front of me release me from my cell.'

'As the blood dropped of my skull and onto the carpet, the old blood vanished, and I was released.'

'So that's what happened?'

asked John, who could hardly believe what he had just heard.

'That's what happened.'

replied James, who had begun to feel better.

'You ended up in this place just because you wanted shelter!'
said John, still finding this hard to accept.

James got up and began to walk away.
'I just wish I knew what happened'

replied James.
'I just wish I knew what comes next.'

James did not hear John's response to this, as he walked into the distance.

John got up and left the old house where he had been, and walked outside. There was oil all over the house, and as he walked away, he left a trail of oil. He passed the spot where James had slipped and bumped his head, 50 years earlier. He covered it with oil. He walked out the ghostly gate, and the old bicycle, still in the same place that James had left it. Once James had moved far away enough from the house, he lit the oil, and watched the house burn. The bloodstains disappeared, and the evil was destroyed.

The fire burned fiercely. No human could withstand the intensity of the flames.

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