The Cigarette Lighters

The Cigarette Lighters

France 1914. Camp Coldstream, Officers Mess.

“Oh Lord, Carstairs,” grunted Oldbody, as he entered the mess and noticed that apart from himself and Lieutenant Anthony Carstairs, the place was empty. “Where is everybody?”

“If you mean the other three chaps as everybody, they turned in early. Big push on for them tomorrow,” answered Carstairs.

“And we’re going to miss all the action, because we have to escort that filthy Hun to Camp Anglia. They will shoot him after a summary trial, I’m sure. Filthy bastard. Practising black magic to ensure old Adolf’s success. He was coated with goat’s blood when they found him. Had to wash him down before they took him into custody.” Oldbody said as he poured himself a pink gin.

Lieutenant James Oldbody had been a banker before he had voluntarily joined up. He had picked the Army due to a long line of family ancestors who had fought bloody campaigns in Africa, Middle East and Russia. His father had fought in the Boer War.

“Don’t think there’s anything in this voodoo and witchcraft, do you Oldbody? Carstairs asked sheepishly.

“Load of bloody hokum,” replied Oldbody. “You’ll be getting out the ouija board next. Here, have one of my cigarettes. They’re from Turkey and are very acceptable.”

Carstairs reached for a cigarette from Oldbody’s cigarette case and after putting it in his mouth reached for his lighter. Before he could light up, Oldbody had his lighter lit and was holding it up to Carstair’s cigarette. After ensuring that the tobacco was alight, Oldbody lit his own.

“Damnable pretty lighters they supplied to us chaps,” said Oldbody admiring the silver lighter which bore the regiment’s crest.

“Yes,” agreed Carstairs. “The engraving is particularly fine.”

The following day both Lieutenants Edward Carstairs and James Oldbody reported to the prisoner’s holding block and after signing the necessary paperwork collected a manacled and leg braced prisoner. It was necessary to march the man the two miles to Camp Anglia, so to aid his movement, the leg braces were removed.

Lieutenant Carstairs kept the prisoner covered with his Army pistol and the three men marched off – and were never seen alive again.

………………………………………+………………………………………………

The old lady lay in bed with a knitted shawl over her shoulders. She plucked at the bedcovers nervously.

“Is she here yet?” she cried out hoarsely, to her son. “Is there any sign of her?”

John, her son entered the bedroom and shook his head sadly.

“No, Gran, she hasn’t come yet. I can’t see why you need a witch like that here in the first place.”

“John, John,” replied the old lady, shaking her head. “Mrs Gumm isn’t a witch. She is a wise woman, a very wise woman.”

“Look, how about I get a nice cup of tea for you…,” started John when he heard the door bell ring.

“That’ll be her. Let her in, let her in!!” screeched the old lady excitedly.

John came back and lead an elderly lady into his grandmother’s bedroom.

The lady was dressed very eccentrically, with a dress made up of squares of different material, a coat with a motheaten fur collar and sporting a hat on her head out of which projected a large feather.

“Mrs Oldsmith,” said Mrs Gumm, holding out her hand. “How nice to meet you.”  

Mrs Oldsmith grunted and gave Mrs Gumm’s hand a weak shake. She looked round to where John was standing and waved her hand at him.

“Thank you John. Now, Mrs Gumm and I have private things to discuss, so just shut the door after you.”

John looked hurt as he left the room. He closed the door and paused outside the room.

“I know you are still there, John,” said the old woman loudly. “Off you go now, off you go!”

Mrs Oldsmith gave a grunt of satisfaction when she heard two creaks of different tones from the stairs. Laughing to herself she turned to Mrs Gumm.

“It’s amazing what you can work out from little noises from the old house. Someone coming up the stairs, someone going down the stairs, even when someone goes over to the pantry downstairs, for something to eat. I hear it all and I know,” she said tapping the side of her nose.

“Mrs Oldsmith,” began Mrs Gumm. “What can I do for you?”

The old woman hung her head and thought for a second before speaking.

“I am very close to death, Mrs Gumm,” she began. “I am terribly afraid that I will be leaving a legacy to my family or others, of pure evil on my demise. I hope you can help me.”

Mrs Oldsmith told Mrs Gumm about an incident that had happened to her grandfather during the First World War while he was serving in Belgium.

“Two officers were given the job of escorting a Nazi to another camp, where he was due to stand trial and be executed. No motor vehicles were available and both officers agreed to march their prisoner the two miles to his destination.”

“Was he a high ranking Nazi, then?” asked Mrs Gumm.

“No,” replied Mrs Oldsmith. “By all accounts he was someone like yourself. He was into magic and foretelling the future. But it was also reported that he practised the Dark Arts and had been useful to Hitler in the past, for influencing battles.”

There was a tap at the door and in walked Mary, John’s wife. She was carrying a tray on which sat a teapot, two cups and a plate of biscuits.

“Thought you might like a cup of tea, Mrs Gumm. I’m sure Gran must.”

The pretty, dark haired girl poured two cups of tea from the pot and then turned to go.

“Mrs Gumm thanked Mary and the two old women waited till the door was closed and the two creaks rang out before they began talking again.

“My grandfather was on duty on one of the hill tops that bordered the route that the prisoner and his escort were taking. He kept his binoculars on them for a good distance before turning to check across towards the enemy lines. There had been some activity that morning and some of the squads had been mobilised to keep a look out in case of any infiltrators,” Mrs Oldsmith continued, before taking a sip of her tea.

“So this was very close to the Front Line, then,” asked Mrs Gumm.

“Yes, by all accounts it was like the Fifth of November most nights, what with the shelling and the flares in the skies.”

“Poor souls, a lot of them were only young lads, eager to do their bit,” Mrs Gumm said sadly.

“Well, when my grandfather turned back round to check the progress of the two officers and their prisoner, he was surprised to see that they had stopped. In fact the two officers seemed to be lying down. Admittedly, my grandfather said it was a very hot day, but he thought that they would have been in a hurry to deliver their captive to the camp,” Mrs Oldsmith said, picking up a biscuit and taking a bite. “Then a strange thing happened. As my grandfather watched, he saw, who he took to be the prisoner, stand up and approach the two officers and crouch down by them.”

“Had he escaped?” asked Mrs Gumm. “Do you think he had killed the men?”

“Well, I don’t know and no one will ever know, for just at that moment a bombardment began and shells began to fall all round the three men. Finally a large one landed right where they were and after the dust cleared, there was no trace left of them.”

“Oh Lord, they were blown apart,” said Mrs Gumm placing her hand over her mouth.

“My grandfather told my mother that just before the final shell hit, the prisoner stood up and then it seemed as if he turned into smoke. All he could see through his binoculars were the officers and this smoke rising into the air, and then it was all lost in the explosion.” Mrs Oldsmith said.

“So did your grandfather report this?” Mrs Gumm asked. “Did they check if anyone was left alive?”

“After the bombardment, my grandfather got on the radio and called up for medical help. He raced down the slope to the bomb crater that had been the officers’ and the prisoner’s last position, but all there was apart from bits of cloth and bones, were three cigarette lighters. Two silver ones and a brass one, just lying on the ground.” Mrs Oldsmith paused and looked a little ashamed. “He looked round to check if anyone was about and then pocketed the lighters. He knew it was like stealing, but, well his pals had collected a fair bit of swag for themselves from their various battles and my grandfather thought that he was somehow entitled to the lighters.”

“So what did they say when he made his report?” asked Mrs Gumm. “Did they believe what he said?”

Once again the old woman hung her head. “He just said that he had witnessed the bombardment and had been checking for causalities. He knew that they wouldn’t believe anything else of what he had witnessed.”

“So, what is it you require of me?” Mrs Gumm said, as she replaced her empty tea cup on the tray.

“My grandfather brought the three lighters home and as soon as they came into the house my grandparents never had a moment of peace. It seemed as if they were haunted, for they heard loud noises, men’s angry voices, tables were moved and doors were opened and closed by invisible people. They had the local vicar in to bless the house but, it made no difference, the troubles went on,” Mrs Oldsmith said, sadly. “Until one day my grandfather threw the three cigarette lighters into an old display cabinet. It had been a wedding present from a friend. It was made of iron and had leaded panes of glass in the doors. We sat them by my late mother’s crucifix and, well, there was instant peace. No more strange occurrences happened and everything calmed down. That was until one night one of my grandfather’s rowdy friends needing to light his pipe, opened the cabinet, took one of the silver lighters out and tried to light it. Well, all hell broke loose again. Pictures were ripped off the walls, loud explosions were heard, stones rained down on the roof of the house and all the doors in the house began opening and shutting. My grandfather ran into the room, snatched the lighter out of his friend’s hand and threw it back into the cabinet and closed the door!”

Mrs Gumm could see that the old woman was getting weaker and she realised that it was time to go.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said to Mrs Oldsmith. “I promise.”

“No, don’t go yet, I need to ask you to get rid of these things. These accursed lighters,” the old woman pleaded, tears starting to run down her face. “I can’t let my children or any one else inherit this curse. It must be stopped. Please Mrs Gumm. I beg you.”

As Mrs Gumm walked away from Mrs Oldsmith’s house she reflected on how something as simple as pinching three little items had caused so much trouble.

Well…, she thought, I’ll go back tomorrow and see what I can do. I am sure there will be something in my grimoire to deal with errant spirits.

She felt happy that afternoon and entering a baker’s shop on her way home, bought herself three chocolate éclairs.

The following day Mrs Gumm was up with the birds. She put a washing on and several hours later stood and admired it blowing briskly in the west wind.

“Nothing beats the smell of fresh air on clean clothes,” she said to herself. “Now I must get across to Mrs Oldsmith’s to see whether she got any rest last night. She was very stressed before I left yesterday.”

As Mrs Gumm crossed the road, she was shocked to see an ambulance sitting outside Mrs Oldsmith’s house.

Rushing up the path she knocked on the front door. The door opened and there stood John.

“Yes, Mrs Gumm. What can I do for you?” he asked. He looked a little shaken and the worse for wear.

“Your mother, John. Is she alright?” Mrs Gumm blurted out. “She hasn’t had a bad turn has she?”

“My mother passed away in her sleep early this morning,” said John, almost accusingly. “She wasn’t well after your visit.”

“Oh John,” wailed Mrs Gumm. “I am sorry, but your mother asked to see me.”

“Yes, well thank you for calling,” said John beginning to shut the door. “I have a lot of arrangements to make.” And, having said that he closed the door in Mrs Gumm’s face.

Mrs Gumm attended Mrs Oldsmith’s funeral a week later and although she tried to speak to John, he was always too busy to speak to her.

She allowed two days to pass and then returned to Mrs Oldsmith’s house and knocked on the door. She was surprised by the hollow sound that her knocking made and upon peeking through windows saw that the house had been totally emptied of its contents.

“Hi there, Mrs Gumm!” chirped a cheery sounding voice. It was Brian Walker, the estate agent from town. “Are you interested in buying the house?”

Mrs Gumm noticed that Brian was holding a very large ‘For Sale’ sign, which he attached to a post in the garden.

“Oh hello, Brian. I didn’t realise the property was up for sale,” retorted Mrs Gumm. You don’t know what happened to all Mrs Oldsmith’s furniture?”

“ Between ourselves, Mrs Gumm,” said Brian conspiratorially. “Her son got the furniture movers in right after Mrs Oldsmith’s funeral. He was at me offering the house for sale, the day after his mother died!”

Mrs Gumm hurried into the town. Brian had told her the name of the furniture movers and she hoped that she would get there before all Mrs Oldsmith’s property was sold.

Arriving at the storeroom she met David Clarke who owned the business, coming out of the front door to the building.

“Mr Clarke, I am glad I met you,” she puffed.

“Here, Mrs Gumm. You shouldn’t be rushing around like this; you’ll do yourself an injury,” Mr Clarke said kindly.

“Do you still have Mrs Oldsmith’s knicknacks? I know you got her furniture, but I need to know where her small items went.”

“Well…, as far as I know, all the small stuff was sold to the various curio and antique shops in town,” Mr Clarke replied. “It seems that John, her son, wanted everything turned into cash and I mean everything!”

Thanking Mr Clarke, Mrs Gumm made her way into the town.

I will just have to visit all the shops and try and retrieve these cigarette lighters. I hope they haven’t been creating any mischief, she thought to herself as she hurried along.

                                                           +++

Archie Taylor paused in front of ‘Jean’s Antiques’ and checked that he had collected everything he needed for tea. Originally he had worked in the shipyards of the Tyne until he had been paid off and being so close to pension age had decided to retire somewhere down South with his wife. The town of Carston had suited them both with its picturesque cottages and fresh air and they had both enjoyed their retirement together until the death of Archie’s wife, Aggie. Since that day a year ago Archie had had to fend for himself, but he missed Aggie and a day never went by that he didn’t think of her.

“Aye Aggie love, I think I’ve got everything.” He said to himself. “I’ll just light up a fag and be on my way home.”

Archie eyed the window of Jean’s antique shop as he reached for his cigarettes. He fished out a king size B&H and stuck it to his lip, but discovered that he had no matches.

In the shop window Jean carefully displayed two lighters. One was brass and the other looked like silver.

‘All righty’ thought Archie, with his ‘fag’ now tucked behind his ear. ‘This needs checking out!’ 

He had high hopes as he entered the shop but he was blocked from the window display by two rather stout ladies.

“Excuse me ladies” He began in his best polite voice. They ignored him completely.

“Excuse me, ladies - please!” He persisted. Still no response! He tried again:

 “Excuse me” He was losing patience. “Pleeease, I just need to look in the window!”

They were either deaf or just simply ignoring him. Ignorant old biddies!

Damn It! He cursed inwardly; the lighters were so near yet tantalisingly out of reach.

Someone outside stopped and peered in at him. And wouldn’t you know it, it was another old biddy! She caught his eye with a knowing look. He recognised the wrinkled face - Ma Gumm! That wasn’t her real name off course; Ma Gumm was just what he called her. It definitely wasn’t a name of affection.

She smiled at him through the glass, her face crinkled like old leather round the eyes. Was she winking at him?  He cringed inside.

Ma Gumm moved on her way and just then Archie spotted a slight gap between the ladies, a chink in the barrier! He grabbed his chance and, squeezing past the ladies, ducked forward eagerly to snatch up the brass lighter. Yes, thought Archie, clutching his ‘prize’, no doubt about it; the lighters were vintage, the real McCoy. He had struck gold!

Then Archie’s hopes were dashed as he heard a familiar raspy voice:

“Jean, those lighters in the window . . . “

Ma Gumm! She’d come into the shop. How had he missed the ‘tinkle’ of the doorbell?

“I’ll take them” She said.

Archie was seized with an insane urge to shout out. Stop! The lighters were his! She was too late! This wasn’t fair!

Ma Gumm turned her head and regarded him with beady-bird eyes; it was as if she had read his mind. Then she did it; she winked at him! No doubt this time. Archie wanted to throttle the old bat!

As Jean approached the stout ladies parted for her. For her they parted! If only they had done that a moment earlier for him . . .

Jean picked up the silver lighter and looked at the one in  Archie’s hand.

“Sorry, that’s been sold” she said, putting out her hand like a school teacher confiscating contraband. Archie clenched his fist tight, stubborn as a kid holding on to precious sweets.  And then, as they exchanged glances, something strange happened; the lighter began to heat up!

“Ahh!” gasped Archie, dropping the burning-hot object and shaking his hand.

Jean calmly bent to retrieve the fallen lighter, and looked up at Archie with suspicion in her eyes. She thinks I’m a nutter, Archie thought. He watched her turn and walk back to Ma Gumm.

He inspected his hand; it appeared to be fine, no heat blisters, nothing, not even a red flush – except the one on his hot face!

The shop door tinkled. Ma Gumm marched past the window, swinging her bulky shopping bag as if on a mission.

‘God, she doesn’t hang about!’ thought Archie.

He had decided to keep tabs on the old bird but resisted the urge to take off after her.  He set off at a leisurely pace and was surprised at how far ahead Ma Gumm was. He had to hurry after her.

Archie shadowed Ma Gumm all that afternoon as she trailed in and out of old antique shops, plus one or two charity shops.  He was impressed with Ma Gum’s stamina; his legs weren’t up to so much walking. Tiredness made him careless but fortunately Ma Gumm seemed strangely oblivious to his presence.  She’s in a world of her own, thought Archie. After a while he noticed her routine; she would slow down at the shop windows and linger. She wasn’t really looking in the window. She had a faraway expression as if lost in thought. Every so often she would get a look in her eyes - Archie thought of it as her eureka look- then she would enter the shop and come out shortly looking pleased with herself and Archie could see that her bag was filling up.

Eventually, to Archie’s great relief, Ma Gumm completed her shopping spree. Thank goodness, thought Archie. Maybe now he could find out where she lived. But he still had a way to go. She continued beetling ahead. She must live miles away, thought Archie. They were virtually into the country side now. Just as Archie thought that he couldn’t go on, Ma Gumm stopped at a gate with a wooden stile. As Archie rested to catch his breath, Ma Gumm crossed the stile with surprising swiftness. A moment later Archie clambered after her, gasping, but determined to keep up. He wondered about her fitness; it didn’t seem natural . . . and where on earth were they going, out here, in the middle of nowhere . . .

Archie ran on, staggering and tripping over tree roots in an effort to catch up with Ma Gumm, who was steadily retreating deeper into the woods. He no longer cared about being spotted. The old bat would have to be blind not to see him now – and yet she still paid him no notice.

Up ahead there was a clearing. Ma Gumm moved to the middle of it and started to wave her arms and gyrate like some old performing diva. She’s finally flipped out, thought Archie. She was singing but it was awful wailing gibberish to his ears. Then he realised this was some sort of chant or invocation.  The air seemed to shimmer. She grew silent and stood still, as if waiting. And as she was reaching into her bag Ma Gum looked directly at Archie across the clearing. She held his gaze for an instant, amusement in her eyes. There was something in her hand. Then she winked and was gone! Vanished into thin air! The air shimmered brightly for an instant longer and a small object flew out and hit the ground with a soft thud which seemed strangely loud in the silent clearing.

Archie stood staring where the object had fallen. A metallic glint of light revealed where it lay. Even though he couldn’t see the object clearly he knew exactly what it was. When he picked it up it was very warm but not burning hot.

Archie rolled his calloused thumb across the flint wheel. The flint rasped and a flame sparked into life. He drew deeply on his B&H king-size and puffed a plume of smoke into the air. Ahh, that’s better, he thought, as he sat with his back against a tree. He’d needed a smoke badly. Maybe the day wasn’t a total loss after all.

With each inhalation and exhalation of smoke he ruminated on the weird events of the day. It was his Zen breathing meditation. His mind was filled with questions. Deep breath, Question: what the hell was going on with Ma Gumm? Breath out, question: who was Ma Gumm? Question: what had happened to Ma Gumm? Where had she disappeared to? Deep breath, question: what was Ma Gumm? Not what she appeared to be, that was for sure. His mind boggled at the possibilities. The questions buzzed around his head like bees being fumigated. And what about the business with the curio shops?  He examined the brass lighter again. It was a beauty and definitely vintage, although he couldn’t quite place it. There was a design engraved in the brass, badly faded, which suggested it was pretty ancient. And why had Ma Gumm ‘given’ him the lighter? It made no sense and yet everything seemed to point to the lighter.

Next morning Archie got up early and set out to find the elusive Ma Gumm. Surely somebody would know where she stayed.

All at once, as if by magic, a postman appeared pedalling a bicycle furiously up the street.

“Hey mate!” shouted Archie. “Stop for a mo’. I need some information.”

The red faced postie pulled up alongside Archie. He seemed glad to stop and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his brow.

“What can I help you with me old pal?” he grunted amongst wheezes.

“You know the old girl, Ma Gumm?” Archie asked.

“Should do,” replied the postman. “Just delivered a couple parcels to the old trout.”

“So where’s her place? Is it far away?”

“Nah, just along that road,” he said pointing behind him. “And second on the right. You can’t miss it; it looks like a spook house in the funfair!”

Archie could see what the mailman was talking about as he approached Ma Gumm’s abode. It would have done the Adam’s family proud. Mock turrets graced the roof and the windows looked as if they hadn’t been washed since Adam was a boy. Walking up to the heavily studded front door Archie pulled down on a chain that hung to the right of the door.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!” went a bell deep inside the house. It had been loud enough to waken the dead, but as the echoes died away a strange eerie silence engulfed the building again and Archie wondered whether he should pull the chain again.

All at once the huge doors gave a loud screech and opened. Archie found himself looking down a long dark hall. The floor was covered with leaves that had blown in and what with the large cobwebs that hung from the ceiling, the overall impression that Archie got was one of total neglect and he shivered as he made his way down the passageway.

Archie stopped at the first door he came to. He had tried calling out but the echoes went on for so long after, it exacerbated the feeling of being alone and created a very creepy atmosphere.

All at once the door to the room creaked open and from within came the sound of a voice.

“Come in! Come in! Let’s have a look at you!”

It was Ma Gumm, thought Archie, how had she known I was there?

Archie walked slowly into the large room. It had been a grand place in it’s hey day, but now it hung with cobwebs and dust. Oil paintings graced the walls, but their splendour lay beneath layers of dirt. The furniture was stained by watermarks where the roof had let in the rain. It looked terrible.

Mrs Gumm sat in a throne like chair on the far side of the room. She looked at Archie and looked puzzled.

“Who are you and why are you trespassing?”

Archie held out the brass lighter.

“You dropped this in the meadow yesterday. I was just returning it.”

The old lady leant forward and scrutinised him.

“You must have been following me, then,” she said accusingly. “Oh I remember now. You were trying to buy the cigarette lighters.”

“You burnt my hand by some devilish magic!” Archie said defensively.

Ma Gumm rocked in her chair with laughter.

“That’ll teach you to meddle in my business.”

A strange scraping noise began in the room. The lighter that Archie had in his hand was snatched away and landed on the floor next to two of Ma Gumm’s shopping bags. Instantaneously there was an almighty crash from the other side of the room as two large bookcases crashed to the ground, followed by a succession of shattering noises  as paintings were ripped off the walls. It was becoming a mad house with books flying all over the room and doors opening and closing. Archie thought he was going mad.

“Separate them!” screamed Ma Gumm crawling towards the shopping bags as she ducked to avoid books which sailed by like missiles.” Separate the lighters!”

Archie reached down and picked up the brass lighter. It felt warm to his hand and he hoped it would not superheat again.

Eventually as Archie watched, Ma Gumm took two silver looking cigarette lighters out of her bags and after laying them and the brass one on the floor, she poured salt round each of them. With a word and a movement of her hand, Mrs Gumm, aka Ma Gumm, the wise woman laid a charm on the cigarette lighters and brought a peace to the troubled room. It looked as if a tornado had passed through it.

“It is only temporary; the destruction will start again soon. We must prepare,” whispered Ma Gumm.

As Archie sat drinking a cup of tea supplied to him by Mrs Gumm. She had gone into the hall and was using the antiquated telephone to contact someone.

“My circle must be gathered so we can destroy this force that haunts the lighters,” she said when she returned.

“What force?” asked Archie. “All I want is to get out of this nut house. What the hell is going on?”

“I was charged with the job of destroying these lighters for a close friend of mine and I can’t let her down,” said Ma Gumm and she began to tell Archie the whole story about the provenance of the cigarette lighters.

When she finished the story, there was a noise outside the house of a large car pulling up.

“Well, Mrs Gumm. You have some guests arriving. I really think I should leave,” said Archie jumping to his feet.

“You can’t leave…please,” begged Ma Gumm. “We need you!”

“Who is ‘we’?” asked Archie, as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

The door swung open to reveal a lady and a gentleman dressed completely in black.

“Esme,” said the lady. “Henry and I came as soon as we got your phone call.”

Archie accepted a cup of tea and a biscuit. He was sitting with Mrs Gumm and her two guests at the table. The mood was very funereal as the two ladies and the gentleman were all in black and their mood was sombre.

“The weather’s turned right nice,” commented Archie to fill in the silence. “Have you come far?”

The lady turned to Mrs Gumm and said, “Who is this? I have not been formally introduced.”

Archie leant forward offering his hand out to be shook.

“Archibald Taylor at your service ma’am and who do I have the privilege of talking to?”

The lady gave Archie a chilled stare and returned his greeting with a limp hand shake.

“I am Caroline, Mr Taylor. A dear friend of Esme.”

“Mr Taylor, please forgive me,” stuttered Mrs Gumm. “This is Caroline and Henry Dubois. They often come in to help out when I need aid.

“Well, let’s get on,” Caroline said briskly. “We haven’t got all night!”

Archie looked over at Mrs Gumm. He felt lost, baffled and needed to get out of this

madhouse. The story that Ma Gumm had told him, had honestly made his hair stand on end. Haunted houses, spirits, ghosts...whatever next?

“I really need to be on my way Ma…Mrs Gumm!” said Archie quickly correcting himself. “I need to be somewhere.”

“What is this Ma?” asked Henry suddenly. “Is this man your son?”

Mrs Gumm gave a little snigger, “it is my nickname, you know a sobriquet. I like to think of it is as a term of endearment.”

Caroline stood up and after brushing herself down, made her way out of the room. “It is to be in the drawing room, no?”

“Yes,” said Mrs Gumm as she turned to Archie. “Please Mr Taylor stay, just for a little while. I am sure you have an affinity for that lighter.”

The drawing room was probably the cleanest looking room of the others that Archie had seen. Although he could see cobwebs hanging from the cornice, the carpet looked as if it had received some attention. He had felt slightly sorry for Ma and had agreed to stay for just an hour and then he had to go.

“You,” said Caroline imperiously to Archie, indicating a seat at a draped table to Mrs Gumm’s left. “Henry you will sit to Esme’s right and I, will sit here, facing her.”

When they were all sitting around the table, Mrs Gumm stretched her hands out and asked the others to link hands with her.

“We will ask protection from St Michael and all his angels first, before we get on to the business in hand.”

The silence in the room was deafening until Mrs Gumm began to intone a prayer in Latin. Archie did not understand a bit of it and felt more ill at ease than less.

“We are met to bring peace to trapped souls,” Mrs Gumm began. “These poor creatures have been prisoners for a century. Endlessly in purgatory and mental anguish. Well, tonight we will allow them peace and to enter the Light.”

She rose from the table and moved over to a large table where she had moved the cigarette lighters to, complete with their ring of salt and associated charm. Picking up the two silver lighters she brought them back and laid them down on the séance table.

“These are the two officers’, Lieutenant’s Oldbody and Carstairs,” Mrs Gumm said. “We will speak to them first.”

Archie felt a chill run down his spine. He could hear the wind outside had picked up and was moaning through the old house, but it was another type of cold that he was feeling, one that was caused by something ethereal rather than actual.

“Lieutenant Carstairs can you approach the table and speak to us?”  Caroline spoke with authority as Mrs Gumm lay back against her chair, closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply.

“Lieutenant Carstairs, if you are present, come and speak to us.” Henry said, repeating his wife’s invocation.

Mrs Gumm’s breath was very stertorous. She gasped at intervals and sounded as if she was choking.

“Has it got colder in here? asked Archie, with a shudder.

“Sshhh!” whispered Caroline. “You are going to ruin everything, just keep quiet!”

Archie was annoyed. This woman had no right to talk to him like this, he thought. He decided that enough was enough and decided to get up and leave this pantomime. That was until he heard the voice issuing from Ma Gumm’s mouth. It was a man’s voice and he sounded in torment.

“Aghhhhh! Help me! Forgive us our sins and let us depart from this place. Please!” screeched the voice.

“Who are you?” asked Henry. “Give us your earthly name.”

“Eeeeeeee! Don’t leave me here. I am…was  Carstairs, Edward. Lieutenant in 56^th Infantry. Pleeease! Help me!”

“Peace, Edward. We will bring peace to all three of you poor souls,” Caroline purred, in an effort to give solace.

“No! No! Don’t release the other one from his resting place. He is …evil! Help me and James. Please!”

“Is your colleague, the other lieutenant, able to speak to us?” quizzed Henry; he sounded as if he was frightened and eager to get the whole thing over with.

All they could hear was the relentless howl of the wind as it explored the rooms in the old house. It was a melancholy sound, full of pain and suffering.

“Release us, please!” screamed a voice from deep in Mrs Gumm’s throat. “He will kill us and send our souls to hell. Let us go!”

“Lieutenant Oldbody,” asked Caroline. “Is that you?”

“All that remains of me,” replied the voice sadly. “Please let us depart from this place. Please!”

Mrs Gumm sat up and opened her eyes. Archie could see she had been crying, for her eyes were red and watery.

“Such pain and misery,” she whispered. We must try to give them rest. Caroline please bring the other cigarette lighter over…”

“No!” said Archie vehemently. “You heard what the soldiers said. We must leave the other spirit where it is!”

“Mrs Gumm laughed quietly and shook her head.

“Archie, Archie. We have to release them all. Bad or good, they are in God’s hands and will answer to His judgement. We are merely a conduit for these trapped, tortured souls to move on and be given eternal peace.

Mrs Gumm turned to Carol again.

“If you would do what I ask please.”

The tension in the room, for Archie, shot up several notches as Caroline carried the brass cigarette lighter over to the table. She laid it next to the two silver lighters and resumed her seat. Mrs Gumm closed her eyes again and slipped easily into a trance.

“Is the spirit that was associated with the brass cigarette lighter present?” asked Henry. “Do you wish to speak to us?”

A door somewhere upstairs in the house shut with a bang and everyone round the table jumped.

“It’s just the wind’” said Caroline. “Someone must have left a window open.”

“Do you wish to approach the table and speak to us?” Henry asked again.

The wind gave a howl and the drawing room door swung open just as a guttural voice resounded from Mrs Gumm.

“Jah, I wish to speak!”

“Who were you while you lived on Earth?” Caroline asked.

Again there was a protracted silence followed by a short burst of speech.

“I was Fieldwebhl  Erich Stanzer!”

“We wish to help you and the others to go into the Light,” whispered Henry.

“And what if I do not wish to go into the Light?” screeched the voice.

“But you must,” exclaimed Caroline. “If you are to receive peace.”

All at once the windows in the drawing room began to slide up and down. The doors throughout the house banged open and shut and the table began to rise up off the floor.

“I command you to leave evil spirit!” screamed Henry who was now on his feet. His eyes had a look of terror in them and he was visibly shaking.

Caroline was trying to wake Mrs Gumm. It was the worst thing that could be done to a medium, but Caroline was fearful of the old lady being injured.

“Wake up Esme! Please wake up!” she shouted.

Suddenly from deep in Mrs Gumm’s throat a large pillar like beam of light projected. It stretched about ten feet into the air and glowed with malevolent brilliance. Within its core the light seethed like liquid and it issued a roaring noise like a mighty waterfall.

 Henry, Caroline and Archie rushed from the table and stood on the far side of the room, watching the being in terror. There was no escape from the room as the door had slammed shut and was unable to be opened.

“You command ME?” screamed the voice from within the pillar of light. “You command ME? You are vermin to be eradicated!”

A thin ray of light shot out of the main column and struck Henry. He screamed and began to bleed profusely as his body was drawn towards the entity.

Caroline screamed and pleaded with Archie to do something, but Archie was out of his depth and stayed where he was.

As Henry’s body entered the column of light the colour got much redder. It looked as if Henry’s blood was being extracted from his body. All at once the exsanguinated corpse was thrown aside and lay still on the floor.

“Carstairs!” shrieked the creature. “Come to me!”

A second beam of light shot up out of poor Henry’s corpse. The light in this one was pale yellow and seemed to stand in awe of the red tainted column of light.

Caroline was mad with terror and picking up one of the chairs she swung it at her husband’s killer. She too was struck by one of the rays and carried into the main column of light. She screamed as blood rushed from her body into the abomination.

Soon her white corpse lay next to her husband’s, looking like a broken doll.

“Oldbody! Come to me!” the voice commanded and suddenly there were three columns of light in the room. It was like firework night, the entire room swam in colours so radiant that they blinded Archie and he covered his eyes to escape their blinding power. Accompanying the columns of light there was a feral roar, sounding like some mighty force escaping from its confines.

“Free! Free!” roared the voice. “Now I can carry out what I intended to do! First though, I will destroy our ‘prisons.”

The three cigarette lighters rose from the table and hovered in the air. In an instant     another beam issued from the multihued column of light and struck the lighters melting them into a blob of alloy. The congealed mass fell with an audible clunk onto the table.

Archie was crouched in the corner wondering what was to become of him.

The corpses of Ma Gumm and her two colleagues were visibly dissolving and liquefying under the fierce heat generated by the columns of light. A smell of burning flesh began to permeate the room.

Archie did not dare to move, he knew that his fate would be if he was struck by one of the rays.

“I see you cowering in the corner!” roared the voice. “You are wondering why I spared you!”

Archie rose to his feet and gazed at the creature.

“I spared you, for you are to be my servant! You lily livered coward!”

“What? To be like these two?” replied Archie indicating the pale columns of light that wavered and flickered.

“No, they provided my escape and had there been more time I would have returned to carry out my service to the Fuhrer! I captured their essences in these bits of metal and upon being nearly destroyed myself, I too entered into the same state.”

“So why wait for so long to escape?” Archie wanted to know.

“I tried but the fools that received the cigarette lighters used some parlour tricks to block my release. That was until today when these childish imbeciles provided my gateway back to power!”

“You know of course that the war is over and Hitler was defeated,” said Archie  meekly.

“What?!” roared the entity. “My Fuhrer defeated!?”

“Yes, and dead by his own hand.”

The column of evil began to spin on its axis and the roaring intensified. There were three puddles on the floor, evidence of the humans. A steam began to rise from the floor as the liquids dried; it rose like a vapour around the spinning column giving it an ethereal look.”

Archie glanced over to the door to the room. If he made a dash for it he might, just might get out unscathed. As if reading his thoughts the fierce voice roared out again.

“Alright, I will have to complete the task myself!”

Four rays issued from the abomination and struck the four walls of the room. They vaporised and Archie could see the countryside stretching out around him. The house had been removed.

Archie felt a growing fear. “What is your task?”

“Why the destruction of all mankind on Earth!” roared the spirit. “That was my Fuhrer’s ultimate plan and I was the one to carry out that plan!”

Suddenly, Archie felt a cool breeze blowing by his ear. He began to hear someone whispering.

“Archie, darling. It’s me, Aggie,” the gentle voice of his wife purred. “You must stop him or it will be the end of everything.”

“What…?” said Archie. “Aggie, is it really you?”

“Begone!” screeched the creature and Archie heard his wife’s voice fade off into the distance.

“Arrrchieee, I will always love you….”

Now Archie was annoyed. How dare this thing interfere with his Aggie. And when Archie was angry he feared nothing and no one.

“Hey you, whatever you are. They say you were a pretty poor example of a human when you were Hitler’s poodle,” Archie shouted. “You crept around with you tail between you legs whenever Adolf was about!”

“There was a ferocious roar and the entity’s voice screamed.

“You have no right to say that. I was a handsome person, looked up to by my peers!”

“Prove it!” Archie spat at the creature.

The column of different colours stopped spinning and began to shrink. The light began to coalesce and run together. Gradually a dark figure materialised and took a step towards Archie. The entity had a beautiful face with green eyes, a classical nose and red pouting lips. Its clothes, a tunic, pants and a cape swirled about him.

“You see, am I not beautiful to behold?” it panted in a mellifluous voice.

“Yes,” replied Archie. “I bow to your magnificence.” And before the entity had a chance to move, brought his forehead hard down on the creature’s nose. As it sprang back, Archie kicked it hard in the groin and completed the coup de grace with a solid smash with his knee once again into the face.

Blood flew everywhere and the more the entity tried to staunch it the more sprayed around. Some flew over and splashed on the pale columns of light that were the lieutenants. With an all mighty sigh, their columns collapsed and tiny orbs rose towards the sky.

Archie heard their voices as they rose into the clear night air.

“Thank you. Thank you. You have freed us.”

Adolf Hitler’s magician lay on the ground surrounded by a pool of blood.

“How did you know…?” it spluttered, the blood gushing from its ruined face. “That to allow me to lose blood would win you the war?”

Archie looked about Mrs Gumm’s property and found a canister of paraffin. He piled all the furniture that lay about over the magician’s body and after dousing the heap with the fuel, ignited it. Soon, the flames leapt hungrily into the night sky and Archie watched them until they died down and the ashes glowed brightly.

As Archie made his way back to town he thought about the events of the evening.

“Blood and Fire,” he said to himself. “The motto of the Salvation Army. The only way to deal with evil.” He gripped the round mass of silver and brass in his hand and after looking at it for a minute popped it into his pocket and then made his way back to town.