Barnabas Ryan

Barnabas Ryan has been the barber in Beguile for about eight years.  He was born in the town to a couple who wandered into Beguile one stormy October night.  They had sought lodging and food at Betty’s Bed and Breakfast.  The couple, a Lucian and Susan Ryan, had decided to stay in the town and quickly sought work, Lucian at the local garage and Susan at the hospital.  They acquired permanent lodgings on a small farm left deserted by the strange disappearance of the Bell family a year prior to their arrival.

Barnabas had grown up in Beguile but at the age of eighteen he had left the town, most people believing that he was studying at some foreign college.  In fact he had been sent away by his father to be amongst his kin when he “turned”. The turning happened to all Ryan family males on their eighteenth birthday. He was to stay with his people until he could control his gift.  

When he came back to Beguile Barnabas decided to utilise a skill he had honed over his years away and he opened a barber shop in Beguile.  It replaced one that had been run by old Mr Braddock before he had passed. 

Barnabas is a popular member of Beguile, always happy to help others in the town. He does however have one quirk that the people of Beguile whisper about but never openly discuss.  Barnabas takes a moonlight hike once a month. He wanders alone, when the moon is at its most voluptuous, into the mountains that are beyond the Wild Woods, always returning the following day. 

Old Clayton Bridge or The Bridge of Tears

Old Clayton Bridge was built in the late 1800s and served as a way to get to one of the small marsh islands along Lake Brock.  The island known colloquially as Sander’s Island, is one of several in the area but unlike the other islands, despite being the only one with a bridge, no-one visits it anymore.  To ensure no-one does visit the sandy little atoll, that in the winter looses much of its width, the people of Beguile have erected a warning sign. 

Old Clayton Bridge became known to the locals of Beguile as the Bridge of Tears.  Sander’s Island, named by the earliest settlers in Beguile was looked upon as a place to fish or just enjoy.  In the centre of the island is a copse of trees known as Honeymoon Grove.  

The island was once said to be the venue for a large wedding feast.  A young couple, children of early settlers in the area, had decided to get married. The father of the bride, Ebenezer Clayton built the bridge a few months prior to the planned celebrations.  In the weeks leading up to the joyous nuptials decorations were taken across the little bridge and set up in the centre of the island, in the shady grove.  

On the day of the wedding the sun was shining and the couple were married in the small Presbyterian Church, Knox Church. The entire entourage then made their way to Clayton Bridge, with much laughter and chatter on the way. 

The festivities went on through the night.  Gas lamps were strung along the copse of trees lighting the beautiful scene as the sun set.  Much was eaten and drunk that night at the walnut table that had been carried over to the island for the celebration.  

No one really knows exactly when the air took on a salty tang and thickened.  And the high spirits and happiness of the twenty guests and the bride and groom seemed to have dulled their sense so they didn’t notice the moon disappearing behind clouds or the fog that was rolling in and engulfing the island in its heavy shroud.

The storm was one that was not expected and it came with a quick ferocity.  By the time that the guests and the young newly married couple had started to move, everything was looking frantic in the flashing lightening that was slashing across the sky.  

That night went down as a dark event in the history of Beguile with several of the founding families loosing loved ones.  Only three people made it back.  They explained that a storm had engulfed the island swamping it and dragging guests into the frothing water.  When they had reached the bridge, their way to safety, the bridge had not been where it should have been.  The three survivors had swum for their lives across the water. 

For several days the lifeless bodies of the guests and finally the bride and groom, washed up along the shores of Lake Brock.  The small graveyard at Knox Church became bloated with the victims of the tragic event. For many years there was talk about the bridge and why no-one could find it on that disastrous night. When the storm was over it stood undamaged exactly where it had been built. 

They say that on stormy nights if you look across old Clayton Bridge you will see the lights from the gas lamps from that long ago celebration swinging wildly in the wind and hear the laughter and chatter of the long dead wedding guests.  

Dolores Paige

Dolores Paige had loved reading since she was a child, and so it seemed only natural that she would become the town librarian when Mrs Elders retired.  

Dolores had a very rare and fascinating talent.  She was able, at will, to go into any book she chose, and to adventure through its environments.  

Over the years, she had started what she lovingly called her “Little Collection”.  These were small items from the story environments that she was sure would not be missed.  From her favourite archaeological adventures she had taken small pieces of jewellery adorned with flamboyant scarabs.  In historical dramas she enjoyed taking thimbles or discarded needlework. 

One time, Dolores had even stolen a kiss from the hero of the novel, no less - although that stolen item was the one that she kept in her memory, to bring out on lonely nights.  

Over the years her “Little Collection” had expanded into several rooms, with each item carefully catalogued; as was her nature. 

Willoughby Baxter

Willoughby Baxter was the lighthouse keeper the night that the barque Ester was taken by the notorious reef just at the place that Lake Brock gushes unceremoniously into the sea. 

Though the Ester could see the light they had already been blown too close to the reef and it ripped viciously into the wooden barque gutting the ship and sending all souls on board into the dark, stormy depths of the sea.  

Willoughby, the lone keeper had tried to rescue people from the cold waters but the sea was adamant that day and it stormed and bit ferociously keeping Willoughby at bay until it had take every soul that had been on board the Ester. 

Though it was no fault of his Willoughby could not forget the desperate cries and the faces of those being swallowed by the sea.  He had climbed to the top of the lighthouse and flung himself carelessly to the ground.

Beguile had not replaced Willoughby but in recent years the lighthouse had been replaced by a small automated light further up the coast.  The lighthouse remained and many folks in Beguile believed that Willoughby had also stayed.  He had been seen and even photographed once, long after his death, walking towards the place where the Ester had sunk on that fateful night. 

Howard Griffiths

Howard Griffiths was born at the funeral home just like his daddy and all the way back to his great grandfather.  The Griffiths family had tended to the dead in Beguile since the town had been established.  Parker Griffith had built the original funeral home, and it had been expanded and refurbished by each generation of Griffiths that followed. 

Howard Griffiths had grown up playing in the parlour beside the cloying flower wreaths and the caskets of the recently departed of Beguile.  It was when he was ten that he had first started the Book of the Departed.  It was old man Braddock that had first suggested it.  Howard had been playing with a toy car on the carpet beside the recently departed man’s open casket when the amiable old man had asked the child to get a piece of paper and write some things about his life down; things that he wanted the people of Beguile to know.  A quiet and obedient child, Howard had quickly done what old man Braddock had asked. 

So started what had now become many tomes of the Book of the Departed. Pages filled with last-minute messages and requests for the relatives of those caught unexpectedly by death.   

Once he had taken over the business, Howard has dealt with all the requirements for the newly departed, and then had a big chat with each of them, recording all the wonderous things that they told him. 

Billy

Many people in Beguile think of Billy as special in the sense that he is not quite as fast or as interactive as other people.  Allowances have been made by the adults of the town, while his peers have long been known to use him as the butt of their jokes.  

Billy’s mother, Maisey, runs the local general store, and it is here that Billy packs groceries in a slow and steady way every day.  

The older residents remember the whispers when Maisey had announced that she was pregnant, and had been adamant that a walk in the Wild Woods past Lake Brock had been where Billy was conceived.  She said that she had fallen asleep in the lush undergrowth of the looming trees, and when she had woken up she had simply known that she was pregnant with Billy. 

Though Billy is largely ignored by the townsfolk in Beguile beyond his usefulness for packing their groceries, Billy has a secret. 

He often goes to the Wild Woods and, when he does, he wears the crown of the people he is the ruler of, the ones that dwell hidden in the woods.

In fact, they only ever allow Billy to see them. 

Lorelei

Lorelei had lived her whole life by Lake Brock in Beguile.  When she was a child, one stormy day, the waters of the lake had almost taken her.  Lorelei had wandered down to the shore alone, walking along the smudge of sand and had been captured by a ferocious, hungry wave. She had struggled against the water as it dragged her tumbling beneath its dark tumultuous depths. 

Just as it seemed as if her last breath had been stolen from her body and she had succumbed to the cold waters she had felt herself being cradled.  The arms had thrust her up from the depths of the water and carried her safely to the shore. 

She insisted that she was rescued by a merman that came from the waters of the deep lake and bought her to the shore.  The townsfolk of Beguile had long since tired of her stories and were not at all surprised to find Lorelei at the shore of the lake gazing into the water expectantly.

Jimmy’s

Out on the old disused highway is an abandoned gas station.  Once a busy place, popular with the citizens of Beguile, Jimmy’s as it was known had long since shut down.  

The namesake of the gas station was Jimmy Thoms, a resident of Beguile, who was known for his stoic ways. It was back in 52 when apparently Jimmy had disappeared.  Over the years there had been much conjecture about the fate of Jimmy Thoms ranging from Alien abduction, which did in fact coincide with the great UFO sightings in Beguile of 52 and 53 or the more likely theory that Jimmy had seen something he shouldn’t have.  In those days the highway had been a popular way to bypass the busy city and their vigilant law enforcement for those involved in more nefarious activities.  

Many in Beguile believed that Jimmy had inadvertently seen something in a car stopping for gas.  When the occupants of the car had realised they simply murdered Jimmy and disposed of his body in a shallow grave somewhere in the surrounding woods.  

The strange thing was that many who passed the deserted gas station would swear that just for a moment in their rear view mirror they saw the lights of the gas station flicker on and on the wind they heard the ding of the gas bowser and the muffled hoarse greeting of Jimmy Thoms.

Preacher John

Preacher John, or so he was known in the town of Beguile, was a product of his grandfather, one of those old fashioned men of God. His grandfather had wielded God as a weapon.  While most revelled in God’s love, Preacher John was more accustomed to the God his grandfather had introduced him to, a God that inspired fear and repentance and purportedly let only the righteous ascend to the Promised Land.  

In recent years Preacher John had decided to modernise the small clad building that his grandfather had constructed after many years of travelling in just a tent preaching the Word of God. Preacher John had introduced music and even had elaborate neon lights installed.  He had also added something a little extra.  At the back of the church, in the woods he had built a special place that he knew would help the many fallen of Beguile truly achieve ascension. 

The Well

Somewhere off the main highway, just on the outskirts of Beguile, there is a field that was part of an ancient farm that is no longer worked.  In the field stands a well. No-one knows exactly how old the well is but the oldest citizens of Beguile recall it always being there.  What was once a working well has long since dried up.

There is a whisper among some residents of Beguile that when the moon is waning, right at midnight, you can toss a gold coin into the well.  You won’t hear it land but within a few days whatever your heart desires will inexplicably find it’s way to you.   You would think the tales of this well would make it a treasure but it is only the most strong-hearted and desperate that throw a coin into its dark maw. Beware, as what comes to you may not be exactly how you imagined. Your lack of foresight may result in your heart’s greatest desire being your most feared nightmare. 

Beatrice and the Beasts

She had always been thought of as slightly different which in a town like Beguile was something indeed.  Beatrice communed so readily with animals, especially the birds, in particular the black birds, that she was treated with suspicion by some and held in awe by others.  

She remembers the first time she heard an animal speak to her.  Beatrice had been just five years old and after a particularly bad time with her abusive father she had headed into the woods crying.  Her tear streaked face was warm and she wiped at her tears.  A deer had been standing close by and had come forward nuzzling gently at her cheek.  Beatrice had looked up surprised and then she heard the gentle feminine voice telling her not to cry.  Other animals had joined the conversation that evening and the child Beatrice had told them all what was happening. 

That very night a strange thing had happened and her father had been killed by a wolf, a surprise in a town where wolves were very rare. A kindly aunt of her mother, who had gone missing the year Beatrice was born, had come to live at the house and had bought Beatrice up in a happy home. Most often residents of Beguile would find Beatrice in a field surrounded by animals chatting away. 

The Jenkins Sisters

Elizabeth and Victoria Jenkins had lived in Beguile all their lives, on a small homestead on the outskirts of town. The farm had been in their family for generations and the harsh soil had been a place of toil and a source of nourishment and livelihood for the Jenkins family over the decades. 

The sisters had branched out since the mysterious death of their parents, instead following in the footsteps of their beloved Grammy, a powerful woman who dabbled in the arcane arts and was often approached in the dead of night by more respected members of Beguile for all manner of magical favours. The sisters had spent many hours with Grammy and had learnt her ways. The citizens of Beguile now rely on the Jenkins girls in much the same way that they had their Grammy. 

No one even seemed to mind that one of the Jenkins sisters was actually dead. 

Edmond Abernathy

Though Edmond Abernathy was adamant that the Pink Motel wasn’t the kind of place he would normally stay he had been given little choice. He knew that the recalcitrant Eloise would be partying there and so he found himself at the salmon coloured Inn. He was dressed in modern attire and though it was not quite to his taste he understood that this was the best way to blend.  Eloise had been easy to dispatch and he could report back that he had left her at peace amongst the pink decor and pillows of one of the hotel rooms.  

Edmond had decided that he would like to explore the town of Beguile and so would extend his stay in the fascinating little town and maybe even find a dwelling.