13 views
Chapter 1
Berkshire, England 1926.
A Morris Cowley was being driven erratically through the country lanes. Anger was brewing up inside Agatha, preventing her from driving with due care and attension. Thirty-six-year-old Agatha wiped the tears away from her eyes as she drove on through the dark winter night.
It was 3rd December 1926 and Archie Christie had just walked out on Agatha, his wife, after a blazing row to spend that weekend with his mistress in Surrey. This was no surprise to Agatha, she knew her husband had been seeing another woman behind her back. She just hoped that it would not come to him actually walking out, wanting a divorce. She was prepared to play second fiddle in her marriage to Nancy Neele if it meant keeping Archie.
Agatha left their house not long after her husband at around 9:45pm. Throwing some clothes in the back of her car, she too sped off into the night. But not before leaving a note for her maid asking her to explain to their daughter, Rosalind, that her mother and father had to go away quite unexpectedly for the weekend.
Agatha continued to drive the dark lanes her destination was Yorkshire, whereabouts in Yorkshire that part of her plan was at this stage unknown. She just needed space and time to think. All this disruption in her private life was playing havoc with her writing. It had taking her years to be finally accepted as a crime writer and she wasn’t going to let it all crumble around her over-night.
It was at some point in the journey, when she left the county of Berkshire and approached Newlands Corner in Surrey, that Agatha saw a white light seemingly appear from nowhere. Now temporarily blind and without taking her foot of the accelerator pedal, Agatha swerved to the left trying to avoid its glare. She churning up the roadside verge in the process and as quickly as it appeared, the light then vanished.
However, it was not long before the white light re-appeared again. This time it seemed to follow Agatha, always shining directly into her eyes. With the situation becoming dangerous, Agatha took her foot of the accelerator and tried to apply the brake. The car refused to respond. in fact, it seemed to be gaining speed.
With both hands off the steering wheel to cover her eyes, Agatha had the strangest of feelings. She felt as if she was being dragged out from the moving car!
Soon, she was completely bathed in the piecing white light, unable to see the interior of her car. Convinced that maybe she had crashed and was now on her way to meet her Maker.
To any observer that night who had the opportunity to witness such an event, they would have seen the Morris Cowley come to an abrupt halt as it teetered on the edge of the chalk gorge. The driver being sucked up into, whatever that light phenomena was.
Agatha Christie floated in the white void for only a brief few seconds, when gradually she saw what looked like to be the interior of a room come into view. As the room became clear, she could make out floral wallpaper: dark wood glass cabinets and most worrying a hard-brown tiled floor that was racing up to meet her.
She crashed onto the hard surface, her forehead taking quite a vicious knock. She lay there, watching wherever room she was in, begin to spin. Then more flashing white lights appeared, this time in front of her eyes. The last thing she heard before passing out was the clip-clop sound of high heels running across the tiled floor towards her.
To be continued...
© Alice White
A Morris Cowley was being driven erratically through the country lanes. Anger was brewing up inside Agatha, preventing her from driving with due care and attension. Thirty-six-year-old Agatha wiped the tears away from her eyes as she drove on through the dark winter night.
It was 3rd December 1926 and Archie Christie had just walked out on Agatha, his wife, after a blazing row to spend that weekend with his mistress in Surrey. This was no surprise to Agatha, she knew her husband had been seeing another woman behind her back. She just hoped that it would not come to him actually walking out, wanting a divorce. She was prepared to play second fiddle in her marriage to Nancy Neele if it meant keeping Archie.
Agatha left their house not long after her husband at around 9:45pm. Throwing some clothes in the back of her car, she too sped off into the night. But not before leaving a note for her maid asking her to explain to their daughter, Rosalind, that her mother and father had to go away quite unexpectedly for the weekend.
Agatha continued to drive the dark lanes her destination was Yorkshire, whereabouts in Yorkshire that part of her plan was at this stage unknown. She just needed space and time to think. All this disruption in her private life was playing havoc with her writing. It had taking her years to be finally accepted as a crime writer and she wasn’t going to let it all crumble around her over-night.
It was at some point in the journey, when she left the county of Berkshire and approached Newlands Corner in Surrey, that Agatha saw a white light seemingly appear from nowhere. Now temporarily blind and without taking her foot of the accelerator pedal, Agatha swerved to the left trying to avoid its glare. She churning up the roadside verge in the process and as quickly as it appeared, the light then vanished.
However, it was not long before the white light re-appeared again. This time it seemed to follow Agatha, always shining directly into her eyes. With the situation becoming dangerous, Agatha took her foot of the accelerator and tried to apply the brake. The car refused to respond. in fact, it seemed to be gaining speed.
With both hands off the steering wheel to cover her eyes, Agatha had the strangest of feelings. She felt as if she was being dragged out from the moving car!
Soon, she was completely bathed in the piecing white light, unable to see the interior of her car. Convinced that maybe she had crashed and was now on her way to meet her Maker.
To any observer that night who had the opportunity to witness such an event, they would have seen the Morris Cowley come to an abrupt halt as it teetered on the edge of the chalk gorge. The driver being sucked up into, whatever that light phenomena was.
Agatha Christie floated in the white void for only a brief few seconds, when gradually she saw what looked like to be the interior of a room come into view. As the room became clear, she could make out floral wallpaper: dark wood glass cabinets and most worrying a hard-brown tiled floor that was racing up to meet her.
She crashed onto the hard surface, her forehead taking quite a vicious knock. She lay there, watching wherever room she was in, begin to spin. Then more flashing white lights appeared, this time in front of her eyes. The last thing she heard before passing out was the clip-clop sound of high heels running across the tiled floor towards her.
To be continued...
© Alice White
