Moreso as that's where I was born and grew up: Tolworth in Surrey, near to Surbiton and Kingston-Upon-Thames. It was nice to revisit some childhood memories for the story, and to also bring in some real places, locales and people ...
I decided to set the tale down by the Hogsmill River, which runs through Tolworth and Berrylands and on into Kingston where it joins the Thames. Just beside the A3 road - which is the main thoroughfare from London down to the South Coast, and which is claimed to be the UK's busiest stretch of non-motorway road - there is a patch of greenbelt alongside the river called the Elmbridge Open Space. The river also runs under the A3, and just beside there, as in my story, there is a small block of flats (https://www.instantstreetview.com/@51.388114,-0.270892,329.16h,8.1p,1z). The tunnel under the road is there too, as are the hideouts and fallen trees where my brother, Alan, and I used to go as kids. It was a different world back then, when there were not predatory pedophiles hanging around on every street corner to snatch you away, and when your pocket money could buy you a bag of chews and sweets to last a week - or at least it seemed that way. The view of the river from the A3 can be seen here: https://www.instantstreetview.com/@51.388533,-0.270032,343.93h,-7.03p,1z.
To the mix of my story I also added a real life character, sadly now deceased, called Moses. And it is from him that the story gets its name. For I have realised Moses - a friendly chap, outrageously dressed, who was often to be seen in and around Kingston and New Malden, just chatting away to people - as a sort of unknown and unappreciated superhero!
To find out more you'll have to read the story! It's in Terror Tales of the Home Counties, edited by Paul Finch and available from Telos Publishing Ltd - https://telos.co.uk/shop/horror-dark-fantasy-and-science-fiction/dark-endeavours/terror-tales-of-the-home-counties/ ... or see farther down this post :)
In the meantime, here's a pic of the locale:
And there's a nice piece all about the river here: https://www.londonslostrivers.com/hogsmill-river.html
And if you'd like to see the real Moses in action, here's a couple of videos:
ADDENDUM
As it's the anniversary of Moses' passing ... here's the text of the story for free ... hope you enjoy ...
MOSES
David J Howe
For the hundredth time
he wondered why he had gone out that night at all. It was all Simon’s fault. If
his school friend hadn’t double-dared him to spend the night in their hideaway
by the river he wouldn’t be there ... and now look at where this stupid adventure
had got them.
Toby drew in as much
breath as his eleven-year-old lungs could manage. He had to stay calm or the thing might come for him. Toby settled
his back against the tree trunk and let the breath out in a silent huff. He
focussed on holding the panic in, all the time wondering how he would escape
this awful nightmare.
*
It was about five o’clock in the afternoon the previous day, when Simon and Toby had made their way down to the Hogsmill River. They lived in a small block of flats alongside the A3 road – one of the main routes into London from the Home Counties. About a mile away they could see the stark outline of Tolworth Tower. Office blocks for the most part, though with a large Marks and Spencer’s shop underneath.
The Hogsmill was a
small stream, which flowed under the A3, heading for Kingston, where it joined
the Thames. Where it came from no one seemed to know – explorations upstream
tended to end where the river diverged from the footpath
– certainly there was a large hill here, but where the river emerged was
something of a mystery.
But down by the flats
where Simon and Toby lived, it was easily accessible, and there was also a
strip of green land all the way alongside it. Various exploratory trips had
revealed the presence of old hiding places and camp sites, sometimes with the
remains of fires still in them.
The boys had never
seen anyone else use them, but this didn’t mean there was no-one about. The
sites were often well hidden right on the bank on the edge of the river within
enclaves of fallen trees and branches, and could be entered by crawling through
hidden tunnels which were often themselves blocked with wood or foliage. It was
a paradise for Toby and Simon. They loved the idea of their own secret hiding
places, and often headed down there with sandwiches and bottles of drink.
On this particular
evening, Toby had managed to smuggle a blanket out of the flat, and some
crisps, and a bag containing a couple of Mars bars and an apple. Simon was to
bring his own supplies, which included a battery powered radio. It was
summertime, so the weather was warm, and there seemed to be no issue with what
they planned. Just some harmless excitement for the summer holidays. They’d
each told their parents that they were going to the other’s home for the night,
so their families would not be worried.
They met at the gates
into the greenbelt beside the river, and made their way to the hiding place.
Simon even had a box
of matches and a tightly rolled wad of newspaper in case they decided to light
a fire, but both boys were wary of that. Both were in the Cubs, and had gone
camping with their troop. They had seen first-hand how
hard it could be to get a fire going, and also how hard it could be to control
once it was lit.
Neither wanted the
whole of the area to go up in flames and for it to be their fault.
So this was brought as
an emergency measure only.
They settled down in
the den, and busied themselves throwing pebbles into the river. One side of
their lair opened to the side of the river, so it was perfect for watching the
water and idling away the day. The river had fish too, which could be seen
flitting in between the algae and plants, but despite various attempts with
rods made from old sticks, and line from bits of string with bent paperclips on
the end, and the occasional bait of worms or other pieces of food, they had
never managed to catch anything.
The evening drifted by
and the boys were calm and relaxed.
All was fine until
darkness fell.
Toby looked out of the den again. It was pitch dark outside, and there was no movement at all. Maybe he should try and make a break for it.
Simon had run. He had
taken his chance and raced for the exit to the greenbelt area. Toby had heard
him go and the last he had seen had been his heels flashing in the faint light.
He hoped he had got out.
Toby stirred and moved
slowly, trying hard not to make any noise. When he got to the entrance to the
den, he paused.
The night was silent
and still.
He pushed aside the
brush that partially covered the entrance and stepped out.
His foot cracked a
twig.
Just a gentle snap.
Toby froze. Foot
poised.
From somewhere in the
darkness he heard something moving, something careful and predatory getting
closer once more.
He pulled his leg back
and retreated to the den again, pulling the brushwood over the entrance behind
him with a rustle.
He wasn’t sure if
whatever it was in the dark would hear that. But it was close now and making a
gentle crunching sound as it moved around.
The smell was awful. A
rotting, noxious mixture of everything that was bad. Toby had once found a
rabbit killed by the side of the road, and the smell from the decayed corpse as
he and Simon investigated it with sticks had been similar. But even that wasn’t
as bad as this miasma, which accompanied the thing.
The creature was
snuffling around outside now, stirring the dry leaves and grit as it went.
There was a scraping sound. Toby saw what seemed to be a giant spider leg, thin
and segmented, with lots of large hairs or thorns growing from it.
This went on for a few
minutes. Something big and heavy moving about outside, shifting things noisily.
Toby clamped his hands over his mouth and nose to still his whimpering and his
breathing and to keep the stench from his nostrils. The worst thing he could do
now was make a sound.
Toby could hear his
own heart beating. Thumping in his ears. He was sure that whatever was outside
could hear it too.
He forced himself to
calm down. He shut his eyes tight and took in a deep breath and let it out as
slowly as he could. This helped and after a few more breaths, he opened his
eyes. The darkness was still there, but there was silence outside now.
He looked around.
Nothing to see. The box of matches and paper was still on the floor. Toby
picked up the matches and shook the box. There was a soft rattle as the matches
moved. His eyes shifted to the river, still flowing gently past. The sound was
relaxing somehow. Maybe he could wade along the river and get out where there
was more light and open ground, perhaps by the main road?
He leaned out of the
hide and looked upstream. It was no more than a couple of hundred yards to
where the water passed under the road. He could do it.
He crouched still,
listening.
There was nothing to
hear. No night-birdsong, or insect noise. There was usually some sound but
tonight there was nothing. He suspected that all the usual night creatures had
the right idea and had stayed at home … nothing wanted to be outside at the
same time as whatever the thing was that he had heard.
Toby made up his mind
and returned to the riverbank. He took off his shoes and socks and rolled up
his trousers. There was no sense in getting everything saturated. He dipped his
toe into the water and the sharp cold bit him. He scrunched up his face and put
his whole foot in the water. It was chilly, but not unbearably so.
He was pleased that
the water was at least clean. The river was fairly well maintained by various
associations. They would come every year and pull out all the rubbish that
accumulated there, old bicycles, bottles, traffic cones, supermarket trolleys
and the like, and generally keep it neat, tidy and healthy for the fish and the
ducks.
He slid his other foot
in and smiled. It wasn’t so bad.
Something moved
against his foot and he jerked. It was just a fish or something. Having a
little nibble on his toes. Nothing to be worried about, he told himself.
He picked up the
matches and paper and his shoes and socks, and gently pushed himself away from
the bank. The river bed was uneven and slimy, and every time he moved his feet
they slipped a little. With the current pushing against his legs, it was tricky
to stay upright. Every time he looked down at his feet, the patterns on the
black water running past gave him a sort of dizzy feeling and he had to either
close his eyes or look back up to stop himself falling over.
He fixed his eyes on
the lights of the road, and started wading slowly in that direction. With each
step he put his foot down carefully, waggling it a little to ensure he had a
firm perch before moving the other one. He didn’t think there was any glass on
the bed, but there were rocks and stones and other unidentifiable objects, and
the last thing he wanted was to trip and fall. The water gurgled and bubbled as
it ran past him, and the sound of his legs cutting the surface was hushed and
quiet. He hoped that nothing could see him, smell him or hear him.
He looked across at
the bank. It was pitch dark there. There was no moon tonight and no stars –
clouds had come in – and so apart from the lights ahead on the main road, there
was no source of illumination.
He pushed on through
the water, one foot after the other, slowly and steadily.
As he moved he could
hear the gentle drone of cars on the A3 increase. There weren’t too many at
this time of night, but the road was so busy that there were always cars
passing.
At this moment though,
Toby was pleased to see any sign of normal life.
There was a crack
and a rushing sound on the bank, as though something large had just moved past
him. Toby stopped and stood still in the water.
Silence.
He turned his head and
in the light from the road he saw something moving among the bushes and reeds
that lined the bank. He couldn’t make out exactly what it was but it was big
and quiet, and the light seemed to fall off it.
He stepped forward
again, toes searching for a hold underwater. The water sloshed around him, and
he felt rather than saw the thing on the bank pause and listen.
He stopped moving
again.
The current run of
traffic on the road passed, and there was silence as no cars approached. In
that stillness, Toby thought he heard something breathing. Then more cars
cruised past and the sound of their engines overpowered the slow, heavy
exhalations.
He moved forward
again, every step bringing him closer to the traffic bridge.
Toby realised that his
feet were growing numb. He could barely feel his toes as they sought out the
best footing, and the chill was extending up his legs. He shivered, gripping
his belongings against his chest as though they would help to keep the heat in
his small body.
He started to count in
his head as he stepped. One, two, three … Every step brought him closer and
closer to the bridge. And every step was a success.
Eventually Toby was
standing by the black mouth of the tunnel under the road. Up above he could
hear the sound of the occasional car passing. In between the sounds of the
cars, there was silence.
Toby swallowed and
looked around. There was nothing to be seen in the inky gloom. The streetlights
far overhead shone a yellow glow over the grass and river, but the shadow of
the bridge was dark.
Toby took a further
step under the bridge, the water washing up his legs. His foot hit something on
the concrete base of the riverbed under the bridge, and it gave. Something
moved beside him … and shifted above him, and Toby instinctively jumped back as
a wooden plank of some sort clattered from the bridge roof and splashed into
the river. He had obviously dislodged something and the plank had fallen from
above
There was a movement
over on the field, and in the yellow glow Toby saw the thing that had been
hunting him. It was hard to make out any shape, except a large, dark,
multi-legged shadow that moved swiftly across the grass, heading for the
bridge.
Toby let out a squeal
of terror and scrambled into the tunnel.
His feet stumbled on
bricks and other rubbish there, and the concrete was slippery too. He managed
to get further under when he heard the splashing of something coming up behind
him. He could dimly see the slightly lighter arch at the other side of the
bridge, and he headed for it as fast as he could. His feet slipped with every
step on the mossy and treacherous concrete; his few possessions were clamped to
his chest.
Suddenly, something
loomed out ahead of him, something man-sized.
There was a splashing
sound, and as Toby continued his way to the other end of the tunnel, he heard
someone clearly say, ‘No-one’s gonna take children from Kingston town. No. Not
happening.’
Then there was a
swoosh of air and a muffled crunch.
There was more splashing, and a growling, keening sound echoed around the
tunnel.
Toby paused and looked
back. Silhouetted in the tunnel entrance, a black shadow on a grey background,
was the figure of a man.
He was large and
stocky, and had a plank of wood in his hands. Toby could see in the gloom that
it seemed to have nails protruding from the end. The figure braced itself and
swung the wood as a shape that Toby could not make sense of leaped out of the
darkness. The wood connected with the monster with a solid thump and a sound
like breaking twigs. There was a hiss and the creature rapidly backed away
towards the far entrance to the tunnel. It had more legs than Toby wanted to
count, and one of them was dragging behind it.
The creature lunged
back and the man swung the plank again, missing the monster narrowly, his
weapon swishing through the air.
Toby pressed himself
to the side of the tunnel. There was a slight indent here, and a flat area on
which to stand. No water went over this, so Toby’s footing was firmer.
He realised that he
was still holding the newspaper in his hand. He hooked his shoes over his arm
and pulled the matches from his pocket. The first match scraped on the side of
the box but wouldn’t light. But the second caught with a fizzing flare, and
Toby lit the top of the wadded roll of newspaper.
There was more
splashing and hissing from where the man and the creature were still holding
each other off. With a rush, something came through the blackness at Toby and
he held the burning paper up in front of him.
He caught sight of a
hideous mouth with fangs, multiple eyes and legs, and an alien intelligence,
before the stranger took advantage of the distraction and caught the creature
full on with the nails and plank of wood.
In the flickering
light from his makeshift torch, Toby saw the thing convulse and shake. The man
took another smack at it with the wood, and it fell back, hissing and mewling
like some baby. Toby took a shuddering breath as it backed away down the
tunnel, the water splashing around its legs.
With a final hiss, the
thing vanished beyond the entrance, and over the man’s breathing, Toby could
hear splashing and the cracking and breaking of the trees along the riverbank
as it departed. The man walked to the end of the tunnel and checked outside. He
paused, listening, and then, after a moment, returned to where Toby was
crouching at the side.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Toby said. ‘I
think so.’
‘Come on then. We
can’t stay here. Gonna get you out of here.’
Toby allowed the man
to help him up. He held out his hand and it was almost engulfed in a large paw.
The two moved to the
other end of the tunnel on the far side of the main road above.
There was a low
barrier there of wooden railway sleepers with a section of wire mesh above it.
This seemed to be there to stop rubbish from flowing down river under the
bridge, and there was indeed a traffic cone wedged in the wire along with some
large pieces of wood and other flotsam.
The man moved a
section of the wire, creating a clear path through and he and Toby emerged on
the other side of the bridge.
‘It can’t get over the
top,’ said the man, nodding upwards. ‘And if it tries to come under … well I’m
waiting.’
He helped Toby cross
the water, which was fairly still here due to the barrier created by the mesh,
and the two of them stumbled up the bank.
Once they were
standing safely on dry ground, Toby got his first good look at the man who had
saved him. He was stocky, maybe just under six feet tall, but what intrigued
Toby most was that his skin was black as coal. The man smiled down at Toby, his
teeth gleaming yellow in the light from the road above them.
‘You OK?’
Toby nodded, and as
his eyes took in what the man was wearing, he realised that he had seen him
before. Even in the yellowed light from the lamps, Toby could see that the chap
was wearing a crazy mixture of clothes, most of them wildly patterned and
coloured pink, red and white. Slightly farther up the bank, Toby saw a
supermarket trolley festooned with items ranging from a pink skateboard to a
child’s brightly coloured pull-along luggage.
The man grinned again.
‘You got nice skin,’ he commented. ‘Gotta keep it that way.’
‘I know you,’ Toby
said. ‘I see you in Kingston on the way to school sometimes.’
The man nodded.
‘Kingston, yes. I’m Moses.’
Toby nodded. Moses was
something of a local legend. He was most often to be found in the centre of
Kingston, sitting on one of the benches, or standing on a street corner,
dressed in the maddest and craziest outfits. Toby remembered one that was all
red and white stripes. Moses was
currently wearing a clown wig that was similarly patterned. Another time he had
been dressed all in black, with a highwayman hat on … but regardless of what he
wore, Moses always had time for everyone. He wasn’t a beggar, he never asked
for money, but he smiled and talked and told everyone how wonderful everything
was … he was a legend. You couldn’t see Moses without a smile coming to your
face.
Toby looked around as
Moses smiled at him. He hoped that the thing wasn’t going to come back.
‘Should we get away
from here?’ he asked.
Moses smiled. ‘You can
get away,’ he said. ‘You could.’
Then Moses seemed to
stop for a moment. Toby saw his face crease as though he was trying to think of
something important. His eyes darted around and narrowed, but then he relaxed.
His lips parted in a wide grin.
‘Yes,’ the man said.
‘Let’s move away.’
They made their way up
to where the trolley was standing. Moses reached into it and pulled out a
bright red hat. He swept his hand over his curly hair and crammed the hat down.
Toby smiled. He looked
so ridiculous that you had to smile.
Moses glanced at Toby.
‘You smilin’,’ he said, and his own grin returned. ‘That’s good. Keep smilin’.’
Toby looked back at
the river tunnel under the A3. ‘What was that … that thing?’
Moses’ smile dropped.
‘That’s the bad thing,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘That’s why I’m here,
keepin’ a look out, and a watch. It’s why I’m an inventor and not a builder,
why I know about the animals and the flowers and rhododendrons and people …’
His eyes clouded
slightly once more, and Toby realised that Moses was affected by the battles
with this dark creature. He was struggling to stay focussed.
‘Come on, Moses,’ said
Toby. ‘Let’s get you back to Kingston.’
Moses grinned and took
hold of his trolley. ‘It won’t be back,’ he said. ‘Tonight, anyway.’
He looked at Toby,
again suddenly serious. ‘You shouldn’t be out. Not at night. There are … things
… which you don’t want to meet or see.’
Toby thought of his
friend Simon. He hoped he had got back home safely.
‘Come on,’ he said.
The two made their way
back up to the main road. There were hardly any cars, and they walked together
along the pavement towards one of the footbridges over the road. The bridge
happened to be right by the flats where Toby lived.
Once they had crossed
the footbridge, Moses took Toby’s hands again.
‘You stay safe little
friend.’
Toby nodded.
Moses moved off,
walking back along the road towards Tolworth where he could jump on a bus
towards Kingston and home. Most bus drivers knew him and allowed him free
rides. Moses, it seemed, was allowed to go wherever he wanted. As he walked, he
talked. Even on his own. He was Moses.
Toby nodded to
himself. That was only right, he thought. After all, if a town or a city has a
protector, whether it’s someone from the comics like Batman or Spider Man, then
they ought to have the freedom of the
place for all the good work they did.
But sometimes, the
person doing all the good work was unknown. Sometimes he was an apparent
itinerant called Moses, who never had a bad word about anyone, but who
lightened the day for everyone who met him. Someone who just made you feel
good.
And who kept the
monsters at bay.
