Henry Neville- The Geist Therapist

8. The Thames Spectre: Chapter One

The Thames Spectre

The young and recently married Mr and Mrs Allan were enjoying a casual walk along the newly developed embankments of the river Thames. The construction had just been completed and recently opened by Prince Alfred for public use. It was an engineering spectacle with a new sewage and drainage system to bring the Thames and London into the modern world.

Mrs Allan held herself close to her husband. It was late and a chill air, despite it being July, crept in, threatening the back of her neck under her coat. Mr Allan offered his wife his scarf and wrapped it gently about her.

"The cold is creeping in faster than usual," she exclaimed sombrely.

Mr Allan merely nodded in agreement, he pulled her closer to him and placed his arm around her. His attention was focused on a faint blue glow some hundreds of feet before them. "What is that?" He said softly to himself.

"What is what?" His wife asked barely hearing him.

They continued forward although Mr Allan lessened their pace. The faint glow was slowly growing more prominent, turning a deeper blue. As they drew nearer, Mrs Allan had only just begun to notice it. To the husband, the blue light was beginning to now look like a shape.

"What is it, Richard?" She asked nervously.

"I have no idea," he replied doubtfully. He held her even tighter. "Shall we find another way?" He began guiding her away from the bank.

"I was enjoying our walk along the river. I would not like to leave it yet."

"Very well, but I do not like what we are seeing. It almost looks like a ma-" Mr Allan paused for he was going to say man, and the blue glowing shape was now very much in the shape of a man.

"Richard, I have changed my mind. Let's go another way," Mrs Allan said and stopped.

Her husband also stopped and turned to face her, "Elizabeth, my darling. Let us leave then. I know a-" Mr Allan was cut short.

"Wait," came a deep rough voice, "Who are you?"

The newly weds turned towards the blue light and screamed. The full figure of a man glowing blue, levitated a foot in the air, a mere few feet away.

"Who are you?" It asked again.

Mr Allan answered nervously, "M-M-Mr and Mrs R- Richard Allan. Th-this is my wife, El-Elizabeth."

The figure glared at them. Eventually, it asked, "Where am I? London is changing. It does not look like the Thames I once knew."

"It's talking, Richard. Why is it talking?" Elizabeth stammered and pushed herself closer against her husband."

"What do you want?" Richard asked bravely. He studied the figure. The clothes, although transparent, were of a fashion long since passed and not recognisable to him. The head had a few long strands of hair, and the face was gaunt with withdrawn, expressionless eyes and dried, pulled back lips showing rotted teeth. Richard also noticed the remnants of iron shackles on his wrist but with no chain.

"Where am I?" The figure demanded impatiently.

Mr Allan stood firmly, he wanted to be brave for his wife, "This is London, the time of her Royal Highness, Queen Victoria. 1874 if you must know."

Anger seemed to appear across his toothy, disfigured face, "Queen? Eighteen?" It replied.

"What can we do for you, sir?" Richard Allan was struggling to keep up the brave charade. He was talking to a spirit, he did not know what he could do about it, if anything.