FIXED: Faster On The Way Down
A Contemporary Psychological Horror: A married couple celebrate an anniversary hike only to discover they have both been keeping secrets from each other.
Contents
Horror Story Compilations
Free eBook: Faster On The Way Down
FREE Horror Story Compilations
Tales of Terror: 41 FREE horror stories, including: ‘Respect’, ‘Mind Games’, ‘The Enigmatic Skeleton’, ‘The Doll House Killer’, ‘Ain’t Nothin’ But The Blues’
Midnight Whispers: 54 horror stories, including ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 3,’ ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 4.’ and ‘Tales of the Macabre: Books 1-4’.
Originally published for paid subscribers on 10 December last year, Faster on the Way Down was heavily inspired by the works of Robert Bloch and Alfred Hitchcock. The location in my fictional town of Grimsdyke is based on the Fairlight Cliffs in Hastings. Much of Grimsdyke is based on Hastings. My matriarchal family originated in Hastings and we spent many holidays down there.
This is my first attempt at ungating paid content, so of course it went horribly wrong. What was supposed to happen was that three months after the piece was released to my paid subscribers, it would be sent out to free subscribers in its entirety.
Instead, it sent the original version, not the updated one with the latest promos and explanatory text. So henceforth I will not be using the automated unlocking of content and will do it manually.
Shame on you, Substack. Shame on you!
Now you should be able to enjoy the full piece. Please let me know if you have any issues. No part of this should be locked.
Sweet Screams,
Newt xx
Faster on the Way Down
By Newton Webb
27th May, 2019. Grimsdyke
“We’re almost at the peak.” Erin stood ten yards up the incline, hands on her hips. Her Lycra leggings looked brand new, untouched by the mud that seemed to cake Arthur from the ankles down. “Don’t worry, it’s faster on the way down.”
Arthur scowled. He considered switching to a placating smile but, lacking the energy, abandoned the effort. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He had to wipe the stinging mess from his eyes. His remaining hair was stuck to his head. He looked at his wife bounding up the slopes.
Maybe I should have exercised more?
Whereas his wife Erin took great pleasure in going to the gym, he preferred the safety of his armchair and the warm glow of the television, preferably with a nice ale in one hand and a bowl of crisps on the side table.
Erin knew this and normally would never invite him to join her on her excursions. She was a taut machine of muscle and tight clothing. He was more of a chubby unit who favoured wearing a comfy pair of trousers.
So, when she suggested a ramble across the cliffs, he had been caught off guard. Usually, he would ferret around and find an excuse. A deadline at work perhaps. A dodgy knee, that was always a good one. The weather forecast looked grim, a bit weak, but it would work at a pinch.
But this time he found himself unable to refuse his wife. Things had been cold between them for months. The silence in their semi detached house in Grimsdyke had grown heavy and suffocating. When she asked him this time, her voice unusually bright and insistent, he agreed. He felt he had to, given the circumstances of late.
He glanced at her again. She was beautiful. This time he found the energy for a sad smile. At least this adventure would bring this awful period of prolonged misery to its culmination.
His boots, a gift from his wife for today, were good quality, but still wrestled with the slick chalk downs. He had almost stacked it once already in the slippery mud. The terrain ahead always seemed to be the peak, but every time he reached it he saw the next peak. It was worse than edging, and he hated edging.
His lungs burned.
He bent over, hands on his knees, and wheezed. Ordinarily, he would have called a break, feigning a need to make an urgent call, but Erin had been insistent that they embraced nature and left their phones behind.
He heard a sharp exhale from above. He looked up. Erin was looking down at him with a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. The wind whipped her blonde ponytail around her face.
“You know,” she shouted down, her voice carrying easily over the wind. “Maybe we should have taken the funicular. You could have saved your energy for the final ascent.”
Cow.
Arthur chuckled as he mentally cussed Erin, then straightened his back. He reached into the side pocket of his rucksack and pulled out his metal water bottle. Arthur unscrewed the cap but did not drink. He just held it, staring at the dark rim, before screwing the lid back on tight.
“Oi, save it for the top. “You’ll get a stitch,” Erin shouted down.
“Yes, dear.” Arthur forced his legs to move. The muscles in his calves ached. The oppressive humidity clung to his skin despite the chill.
They trudged on for another twenty minutes in silence. The path narrowed. To their left, the hill sloped gently upward. To their right, the ground fell away into a jagged rocky cliff face. The slate grey sea crashed against the rocks at the bottom.
“Pick up the pace, Artie,” Erin yelled. She was bounding over the rocks with irritating grace. “The light won’t last forever.”
Arthur wiped sweat from his forehead.
It never does.
They reached a plateau. The summit was a flat expanse of rock that jutted out over the ocean below. The view was commanding. From here the waves foamed and roared. The wind was ferocious, tearing at their coats.
“Finally,” Erin said. She dropped her pack near the edge, dangerously close to the sheer drop. She turned to face the view, spreading her arms wide. “Look at that. Worth the agony, isn’t it?”
Arthur dropped his bag a safe distance from the edge. He sat on a large, flat rock and tried to slow his heart rate. “It is something else,” he admitted. “Just as good as when I proposed to you on this rock. Though my lungs were better back then.”
Erin laughed. “You will be fine. You just need to hydrate.” She reached for her own water bottle. It was pink compared to his blue one. “Here. Cheers to making it to the top.”
She took a long drink. She swallowed greedily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Arthur watched her throat work. He unscrewed his own bottle and brought it to his lips. Arthur tilted it up but kept his tongue over the opening. He lowered it and exhaled a satisfied sigh. He feigned a surprised delight that it was gin and tonic, not water.
“You rogue,” Arthur cackled at her.
“Remember, we had G&Ts when you proposed?”
“I remember. I was so nervous I downed the lot in one before asking the question.”
Erin smirked at him. “Go on then, let us see if you have still got it.”
“You first. That was ten years ago.” Arthur took another small gulp. “I am old now.”
“Challenge accepted.” Erin held up her bottle in a toast. “Together then?”
“Together.” Arthur joined her and the two of them guzzled down their gin like a pair of teenagers.
“Still got it,” Erin winced as she wiped her mouth. She capped her bottle and clipped it to her belt. She took a step closer to the edge, peering down. “I have always loved it here. Everything down there seems so small. Small but furious.” She smiled. “Primal.”
“Does Jamie like the view too?”
The wind howled between them. Erin’s back was to him, but he could see her shoulders go rigid.
“Who?” Her voice was flat.
“Jamie. The lad from Accounts. The one with the Audi.”
Erin turned around slowly. Her face presented a facsimile of confusion, but her eyes darted left and right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Arthur. The gin has gone to your head.”
“No, I don’t think so, my dear.” Arthur rose from his seat. He felt remarkably calm. The burning in his legs did not matter anymore. “You had me fooled for a good while. The late nights. The networking events in Leeds. But you really should have told him not to WhatsApp you. I saw the text while you were in the shower last Tuesday. It is inconvenient, isn’t it, the way technology betrays us?”
Erin stared at him. The colour was draining from her face, leaving her pale and ghostly against the grey sky. “You looked through my phone?”
“I didn’t have to look hard. It was right there on the lock screen. Cannot wait for the weekend. Once the old ball and chain is out of the picture, we can finally book that trip to Bali. That was the message.”
“Arthur, stop it,” she snapped. “You are being paranoid. You have got the wrong end of the stick.”
“Wrong end of the stick. Really?” Arthur stood up. “Actually, that was my first thought. So, I unlocked your phone. Yes, yes, it is not hard to remember a Z motion. I read the whole conversation. Well, the salient parts anyway.” He brushed the grit off his trousers. “I misunderstood the plan, did I? The plan to get me up here. A tragic hiking accident. Poor, unhealthy Arthur. A clumsy slip near the edge. Then, you and Jamie cash in the life insurance and fly off into the sunset.”
Erin took a step toward him. Her expression hardened. The pretence dropped. Her lips curled into a sneer. “You always were a boring little man, Arthur. You suffocate me. You sit in that house and rot.”
“Maybe,” Arthur nodded. He looked at his beautiful wife as anger turned her face ugly. “But I loved you, I really did.”
“And how could you expect me to love you back?” she hissed. She took another step and then blinked, swaying.
Erin stopped and reached up to touch her temple.
She swayed, just an inch to the left.
“Why...” Erin mumbled. Her speech slurred. She suddenly glared at him. “I feel...”
“What is the matter, love?” Arthur asked. His voice was devoid of sympathy. “Feeling a bit unsteady? Maybe the gin has gone to your head.”
Erin stumbled back. She looked at the bottle on her hip, then at the bottle in Arthur’s hand. The realisation hit her slowly, fighting through the fog clouding her brain.
“You...”
“Yep. I poured the gin and tonic from the bottle you prepared for me into yours last night,” Arthur said. “While you were sleeping. You were snoring, actually. Very unladylike.”
“No,” she gasped. She tried to lunge at him, but her legs refused to cooperate. They buckled. It looked like her knees had turned to jelly. “Artie please, it was just a joke. We were being silly.”
“I wonder where you got the drugs from,” Arthur observed clinically. “I hope it is your prescription sleeping pills. If you went on the dark web and got something dodgy, you could get me in a lot of trouble. But I think I will be okay. You do like to do your research.”
Erin reeled backward. She was close to the edge. Too close. The wind gusted, hitting her full in the chest. She flailed her arms, trying to find purchase on the air itself. Her boots slipped on the wet chalk.
Arthur stood in front of her. She sank to one knee. He raised her up. She clutched at his arms.
He looked at her deep into her widening eyes, trying to see if there was any remnant of the woman he had loved.
“Please, please, we can work this out, Arthur.” Her voice had lost its arrogant tone, instead being filled with terror.
Arthur’s lips pressed firmly together. He raised his finger to her nose.
“Booooooop.” He pushed.
He batted her hands off his coat. Gravity did the rest. She tipped backward, her centre of mass shifting past the point of return.
Arthur watched her vanish.
A long, high shriek tore the air, echoing off the stone before the wind swallowed it.
Arthur walked to the lip. Just under three hundred feet down, a patch of neon blue lay still against the jagged grey teeth of the coast.
He took a deep breath. The cold coastal air seemed somewhat refreshing now.
“You are right. It is faster on the way down.”
Arthur turned away from the edge. He picked up his rucksack and slung it over one shoulder. He checked his watch. If he hurried, he could make it back to the car and call the police before it got properly dark. He would have to put on quite a performance for the police. Tears, shock, the works. He practised the face in his mind.
Distraught husband. Tragic accident. She was always so healthy.
Arthur began the descent. His body still suffered, but he found he had a renewed spring in his step.
THE END
Tales of the Macabre
You can find my stories on Amazon, as Kindle Unlimited, eBook, Paperback or Hardback.
This collection of stories is designed for quick reads, whether over a coffee or during a commute. Either way, they promise to deliver exquisitely disturbing nightmares that gaze without flinching into the abyss—and linger in the mind long after.
FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Available to order on AMAZON.
Welcome to the complete collected works of Newton Webb. Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1-4 are intended for mature audiences.
Read a collection of free short stories or listen to free audiobooks by Newton Webb on his website.