she was a little gothic girl, lived in a dark zone, a necromantic who somehow managed to keep her job as a librarian in highgate but at night would scavenge the cemetery for a good looking corpse to idealize. it was her secret taboo, although with the advent of the net she was able to share her fetish with a few like minded people, mostly japanese girls and a german guy and four american couples and myself, although i was there purely quite accidentally.
often when i scout the internet for information on magick or on occult i’m presented with various options and it was during a search for the hp lovecraft text necronomicon that i came across the site. open minded though i am, liberated and unshockable, i was about to click away in disgust when a small image caught my eye and i clicked upon it, which in turn led me to the obscure dating site. and there disguised like any other normal dating site was a list of photographs of singles in my area.
i trawled through the images, a vastly diverse range of people appeared, men and women, some just completely androgynous, some looked very straight, some a little disturbed but the one thing they had in common was their secret necro passion although on the actual site it was alluded to, never obvious. it’s only know i can see with the benefit of hindsight.
about half way down the screen i saw her picture. very plain and unassuming, save for her eyes. her eye’s were as black as anything, and her stare was penetrating, deep into mine. the more i looked at the image the more she looked back into me.
anyway it’s embarrassing to say, i was curious but it was more than that, i was taken in completely. for a moment i thought i could click away and continue my search but there was no way i had that kind of discipline. besides her eyes held me. so i regret to say i sent her a short introductory message.
‘hello there, i noticed your photograph and it appears we share some common interests, would you like to have a coffee one afternoon.’ and i left my number and a fake name.
i re read her profile again.
‘female 25 highgate, london, single seeks companion for nocturnal activities and love craft like passions. must be over 40.’
what did i know, i was a dumb guy with an interest in the esoteric, i had no idea that the love craft part of her statement referred to something so terrible and shocking. to be honest i thought when she wrote love craft she was referring to some creative sexual pursuit.
anyways we met outside her workplace, the highgate library, and walked down the high street to a coffee shop on the corner. it was raining so we moved quickly sharing an umbrella. once seated inside i noticed her eyes again, absolutely pitch black, like two black collapsing stars, incredibly magnetic and once in their attraction it was impossible to pull away. everything else about her was plain, she wore no make up, dressed quite conservatively, spoke softly, was very well read but had never travelled overseas, she lived in a small apartment or flat as she called it a few streets away, she was a vegetarian and had a pet cat. she was also lactose intolerant.
we spoke about very safe, mundane things then she asked why i sent her the e mail.
‘well i really liked your photo, and i was interested in you i guess, i don’t normally meet people on the net but i felt a certain attraction and we have a few things in common.’
‘yes, what things?’
i had to think on the spot because i had not read the ‘interests’ part of the profile so i had no idea what she was interested in, so i said, ‘books, we both love books.’
she asked me what i enjoyed reading, ‘oh the usual, anything really, as long as it’s good. what about yourself?’
‘i like reading hermun trusky and ollivetti de havilland, although my favorite book is dora brud’s ‘death beyond life.’
‘oh i have never heard of those writers but they do sound very interesting.’
‘yes.’
‘and what else do you share with me.’
‘share?’
‘have in common?’
oh well books, and err, i like tea,’ i smile.
‘mmm and your tastes are....’
‘black, no milk or sugar.’
‘i wasn’t talking about those tastes.’
‘oh!’
there’s a long silence.
‘i’m not really sure to be honest, i just wanted to meet you, i’m sure once i got to know you we would have heaps in common.’
she smiles, it’s not a big smile but a kinda mona lisa one, an inflection i guess.
‘i found the site by accident, i don’t really know anything about it, i just saw your photo and i sent you a message and here we are.’
her eyes looked deep into mine, it was not unlike falling, i was falling, gravity had no place in her presence.
she got up and left.
‘great,’ i thought, ‘you really blew that.’

a week later she called me, we met for dinner. she wore a black dress and looked stunning, but she had an agenda and it wasn’t until dessert she put her cards on the table.
‘i need some help, are you free saturday night, around 11pm till about, well the following morning.’
‘yes of course,’ should i bring a toothbrush?’
she smiled, ‘no. but dress warm and bring a flashlight.’
i must have looked surprised but she deflected the issue by asking me how my week was.
we kissed briefly, a fleeting kiss on each cheek and she hurried away and i was left outside in the rain.


saturday night i met her outside the graveyard, technically highgate cemetery, a london landmark, it sprawls for miles, the graves of quite a number of personalities and the analogue to the gothic cemetery, it’s raining and cold and i’m wondering what the hell i am doing here when she runs out of the night and stands in front of me, looking excited and elf like, there’s a gleam in those dark eyes.
‘okay, lets go.’

i grab her, ‘what are we doing, i need to know before i go any further.’
‘you’re helping me, that’s all you need to know.’
‘but what are we doing here in a graveyard?’
‘we are going hunting.’ she clambers over the wall, i follow.
this cemetery is incredible, it’s huge and although the newer areas are well kept and accessible the older areas are overgrown and look like something from a horror film.
our flashlights follow the trail towards the crypts, overgrown and ancient, the vines have grown around the graves and tombs here, trees all look dark and mysterious in the narrow beams of light, we pass a statue of an angel preying, another laying down, there are angels everywhere, different types, different sizes, they are all silent sentinels, guardians. deeper we walk, along a narrow path, overgrown with shrubs and wild areas that are unkept and abandoned, an owl hoots and it startles me, she laughs.
suddenly the path ends and we have to walk through the overgrowth, i’m pushing away branches and navigating my way through, our flashlights hit something, white against the darkness, it’s a opening to a crypt.
the actual steps are clear, we walk up them silently, a million questions are racing through my mind but i’m to terrified to speak and i think i’m scared of the answer.
as i step into the dark corridor that leads down she grabs me, ‘can you wait here.’
‘what?’
‘can you just wait here.’
‘wait here, while you go down there.’
‘yes.’
‘why.’
‘ i have something i wish to do alone.’
‘i don’t know, look i’m not that happy about being in a graveyard to be honest, let alone waiting here on my own while you go down there.’
‘please, i will be back soon. promise.’
there you have it. i stayed on the steps near the entrance while she descended, i followed her beam until it vanished.
i don’t really know how long passed, i never carried a watch, but it must have been a while, the rain never really stopped although there was a fracture in the skies where the moon passed for a moment and illuminated my surroundings. i was in the middle of four identical crypts, they each had the steps up to the doorway, an entrance and then steps down. they must be connected i thought, underground. each doorway was guarded by, not an angel but a horrific gargoyle, a demonic monster that looked as if it was from the bowels of hell. right out of lovecraft i thought, they were not even made from the same white marble but black obsidian. then the moon passed over clouds again and the rain came down heavier and that’s when my flash light started to fade. i turned it off to conserve energy. i sat there getting wetter and wetter as the downpour increased and eventually moved inside the doorway.
i felt as if i should do something, move away or in but standing there doing nothing wasn’t the answer.
i called out, ‘miss jones.’
nothing.
i took a step in.
‘miss jones.’ i called again, no reply. i placed my arm on the left wall and thought i’ll follow the wall and if i have to come back then i just turn right following the right wall, but i wasn’t convinced if that was the solution. at the back of my mind it felt like a plan but another part of my mind had already dismissed it, and while i was caught in this neurotic ping pong match i had already walked into the crypts depths. the staircase was narrow but started to spread outwards, i held the flashlight but i dared not put it on, i would wait until i needed to. i could see nothing now, but at least i had the wall. i felt the first spiderweb after a few minutes, it hit my face, i screamed out and my hands grabbed my face wiping it manically.
‘jesus christ, this is shit. miss jones, are you there.’
no answer, i followed the steps down, each step i took was considered, i was never reckless but i was getting very anxious. each step i thought this will be the last step, each step i waved my hand in front, each wave seemed to bring some cobweb from oblivion towards me. eventually i gave up worrying about the webs and just followed the staircase, down and down, i estimate i walked down for an hour at least before i hit solid ground.
that last step came as a surprise, and i thought maybe i will allow myself a burst of light.
the beam revealed a corridor filled with spiderwebs and a bat flew straight overhead and up the staircase, i ducked and noticed a plaque on the wall, an inscription. i didn’t bother to look at it but moved onwards along the corridor stopping once to pick up a stick i could use to knock the cobwebs away and also any zombies that tried any monkey business. however holding the stick and the flashlight was difficult so i turned the light off and stuffed it into my belt.
i walked along taking long strides and then seemed to come to a turning, again i flashed the light, just for a moment. the power was dying, a narrow beam of light showed that i had reached an intersection. ‘christ.’ i said aloud, ‘what the fuck am i doing.’
i continued straight onwards. the only sound the sound of my breathing, and my footsteps and ....
what was it, a voice, a woman's voice, it must be miss jones, it must be. i followed the sound. eventually it became louder as i approached , careful not to make a sound, i pulled the flash light from my belt and got ready to turn it on as i followed the corridor to the chamber the voice was emanating.
‘darling my darling sweetheart, soon we will be together, i miss you so very much, you know i love you, you know my life means nothing without you, you know these things my love, my sweet beautiful...’
‘corpse.’ i finished the sentence for her, bathed in the faint glow from my light she lay there her arms around the remains of a body unrecognizable. he was kissing it’s head with skull bone protruding and what looked like half a head of hair. she looked at me in surprise and horror. the moment frozen as the light went out and darkness engulfed us.
‘i’m sorry, i really am, i didn’t want you to know. i’m ashamed about it but it’s love, i love her,’ she sobbed.
i’m not sure what was more shocking the fact she was in love with a corpse or the fact the corpse was a female.
all i knew was i had to get out of there, so i ran back, i ran down the corridor and up the stairs and ran out into the rain, then i ran through the bushes as branches cut and swiped my face, i ran and ran until i came to the perimeter wall. i climbed the wall and ran along the streets until i realized i was running away from where my car was parked.
i was exhausted and freaked, as i wandered back to my car. i had seen a lot of things, been in a lot of different situations, been with a number of eccentric women, i was no stranger to their tastes but never had i experienced anything like this. so shocked was i there was no drive to find out anything about who this woman was or the relationship that they have, i just wanted the memory removed from my mind, the smell of it pervaded my clothes, the sound of her voice, the horror of them in that strange dying light, the look of them, those eyes, those eyes and that dead skull, they were the same.
i cried.
when i got home i opened a bottle of johnny walker black label and drank it.
in the morning, afternoon, the sound of bells, chiming, i was laying down, lights where shining in through curtains, there was an awful taste in my mouth and those ringing bells, the phone. i reached out and answered it. the sound of breathing, soft breathing, ‘please i must see you, i must explain, i did’t want you to see me like that, i have to explain.’
i put the phone down and she never ever rang again.

it was many years later that i was in paris, walking along the left bank when i was struck by a small occult book shop. i wandered in and looked at some of these old books, mostly leather bound collectors items, rare and valuable. i had always loved the feel of books and this was such a rare find, i had visited most of the esoteric bookshops in europe but this was not listed. it stocked some gems but nothing i needed and as i was about to leave i noticed in the bargain bin a small bound book called ‘death beyond life’ by dora brud.
on a whim i bought it.
it was written in german and took me two months to get it translated and a considerable sum of money.
it was a poem of a young woman who was in love with a dead poet, later the young girl found out the poet was a woman, and she was confused but none the less had given her heart to the poet and after a long time searching attempting to track her down found she was dead from influenza and buried in her family crypt in barcelona. the young admirer is devastated but the poets poems are about love beyond death and therefore gives the adorer hope that there is such a thing. i must admit it was quite beautifully written and very haunting, lonely and romantic, it seemed to seduce you with it’s words. the style crept in under the skin, into the heart and stayed in the mind. each word seemed to have it’s own vitality and the structures of the sentences were almost perfect. i began to think about that night again, it suddenly didn’t seem as horrific, it was almost tragically beautiful.
on return to london i visited highgate.
i had never been back there, never, it had now been 9 years. i walked into the library and enquired after miss jones.
she had committed suicide 9 years ago, thrown herself into the thames. she was buried at highgate cemetery quite close to the crypt but in a different section. the library staff leave flowers for her once a month. the assistant gave me directions and i went to pay my respects feeling somewhat strange and empty. i took a bunch of roses and the brud’s book .
as i approached the grave i felt a flutter in my heart.