Drag Me to Hell was the title of a book that I began to write

But it will never be published as I have abandoned it

It lies in many parts in my bedroom cabinet

And that is where it will stay

Much has happened since my previous essay on the 1934 Lights

First of all I had a dreadful accident six years ago which nearly killed me

I was hit by a speeding van in a country lane with the driver failing to stop

And because of this I am confined to a wheelchair

I will never walk again and sadly will never be able to have children

The people of Wroxham have been so wonderful to me that I often weep

They are indeed God’s chosen children and in a way this was part of the problem

Our shop has been a constant in our lives as it has looked after us financially

I now live downstairs as we adapted the considerable space we had

Again the lovely people of Wroxham were there to help us

Jan has come to terms that we will remain childless although she is sad

But I have not told her everything about that dreadful evening

First of all the van that took away my mobility has never been identified

I was told by the police that it did not appear on either of the speed cameras

That covered the lane at either end which is impossible

As the cameras recorded the farm vehicles that I remember

Also after a great deal of searching I found  Carol Ennis-Jones

She was living in St John’s Wood with her mother

But that was that as my polite letters went unanswered

That was until one day about a month before my accident

A tall distinguished woman of about sixty years entered our shop

It was Jan’s Norwich Day so I was alone on a quiet afternoon

The first thing that struck me was her resemblance to Darius

When I enquired she noted that Darius was her brother

Although quite friendly her manner was abrupt

She asked me why I had such an interest in the lights

I noted that like Darius I was a local historian and had written some articles

It was then that she became cold and warned me to discontinue my researches

No good would come of it and to revisit the subject would be upsetting

The lights she noted should remain hidden in history

I untruthfully assured her that I would discontinue my investigations

And with this she thawed and showed me a number of photographs

Of the shop and the airfield in the distance

She also showed me a photograph of her mother

Which had been taken a few weeks previously

This photograph took my breath away as her mother was an exact image

Of the woman standing in front of me even if she was approaching ninety

I tried to hide my surprise and said nothing

The woman after buying some postcards left the shop

Even though I had promised to discontinue my researches

I waited a couple of weeks before I decided to visit Darius

Who was enfeebled in a care home in Norwich

And enfeebled he was as he did not recognise me

How different he was to his sister who was full of life

I then started to study the parish records

And had nearly finished my investigations

Although again I had drawn a blank when my accident occurred

You might ask why I gave my book such a strange title

Drag me to Hell

That is easy as I am haunted by these screaming skulls

I see and hear them even on the brightest of days

I am dragged to Hell and I am dragged back

Which not only lacerates my skin but also my mind

Even when they are at their nosiest Jan cannot see or hear them

I am terrified of the nights as from my bed I can see

The landing window which bears quiet witness to the terrors outside

It is never ending and I feel that I am on the verge of madness