Gone but where, p.1
Gone, but Where?, page 1
Gone, but Where?
Guy Matthew Etchells
Published by Guy Matthew Etchells, 2026.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Gone, but Where?
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
About the Author
To Marie & Lily
Nothing truly vanishes. It is only put somewhere we stop looking.
Tower Hill Books
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First published in Great Britain by
Tower Hill Books
Copyright © 2026 Guy Etchells
All rights reserved.
This paperback edition, 2026
1
ISBN- 978-1-917504-61-4
The moral right of Guy Etchells to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publishers.
This book may not be lent, hired out, resold or otherwise disposed of by any way of trade in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, without the prior consent of the publishers.
For
Marie & Lily
CHAPTER ONE
The wind howled through the walls of the pumping station, shaking the pipes like an ominous drumroll. Dust whipped through the air, obscuring the 1930s architecture as it swirled in a violent, unnatural vortex.
Rosemary Moon stood firm in the foyer, her boots planted on the concrete floor, eyes locked on the furious spirit before her. Loose cables snapped through the air like whips, warning signs tore off the walls and flew past her head, clipboards spun wildly, and buckets clattered across the floor. Even the portable meters, once neatly arranged on a shelf, were hurled with alarming force.
The entire room pulsed with anger as these objects and forgotten debris hurtled around, crashing into walls with deafening impacts. At least, she thought with some relief, the station was fully automated, no one else was in danger of being caught in the chaos.
“Stop this!” Rosemary shouted, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding her.
The temperature plummeted, the gusts of wind swirling faster, the howling of the wind now mixing with a guttural growl that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
The translucent figure of a woman flickered in and out of sight, her form twisted in anguish, her face a mask of rage. The air was thick with fury, as if the very walls of the station were trembling with it.
“I know you're angry,” Rosemary called out, struggling to keep her balance as the wind tore at her coat, her hair whipping across her face. “But you need to let me help. I can help you!”
A spanner flew past her head, missing by inches, slamming through a shattered window behind her. The spirit’s face contorted, her mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes burning with a hatred.
“You don't understand!” The words tore through Rosemary’s mind, not spoken but felt, a searing force inside her skull. “The carousel, I need to hear it... left here... and now, it’s been taken... they will pay!”
The floor beneath Rosemary’s feet rumbled, cracks spidering across the ground as if the earth itself were responding to the spirit's wrath. She clenched her fists, her breath coming in short gasps as she stared into the spirit’s wild eyes.
“I can’t help you unless you let me in! Let me in, Jennifer. You’ll hear the carousel again!” Rosemary yelled over the wind.
But the spirit would not be consoled. With a shriek that echoed through the abandoned building, another wave of debris was hurled towards Rosemary, and in that moment, she knew, the spirit wasn’t just angry. She was out for blood.
“You’re losing your grip on reality,” Rosemary called out. “The longer you stay here, the more confused you’ll become. Once Scott returns, you can pass over. You’ll find peace, you can finally rest, finally sleep.”
The wind began to slow, the furious gusts that had torn through the pumping station gradually fading into a soft breeze. The debris that had been violently hurled across the room now clattered to the floor in a muted, defeated silence. Rosemary stood still, her heart racing as she watched the spirit of Jennifer Wilson, sepia-toned and translucent, drift slowly down like a fragile piece of tracing paper. Her form, once wild and chaotic, was now thin and delicate, wavering as if she might dissolve at any moment.
Jennifer hovered in front of Rosemary, her once fiery gaze softening, though a flicker of pain still lingered in her eyes. The room felt heavier now, as if the air itself were holding its breath.
Rosemary, her winter-white hair glowing faintly in the dim light, took a cautious step forward. “Jennifer,” she said softly, “you can hear me, can’t you?”
The spirit’s hollow eyes met hers, and for the first time, Jennifer seemed to register her presence fully. She blinked, as though emerging from a fog, and the wildness in her expression dulled into something more recognisable, confusion, grief, and exhaustion.
“I... I don’t know where I am anymore,” Jennifer whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “It hurts, and everything feels... wrong.”
Rosemary nodded slowly, maintaining a gentle, calming tone. “You’re in the water pumping station in Slitting Mill, Rugeley. You’ve been stuck here for a long time, Jennifer. You’ve been trapped in your own pain.” She paused, trying to gauge the spirit's reaction. “You worked here a long time ago, you and Martin, but you don’t have to stay here anymore. Scott is coming. He’ll help you move on. He’s on his way back.”
Jennifer’s form wavered, as if caught between wanting to believe Rosemary and being consumed by her own torment. “I don’t remember... who I was. Why am I still here?”
“You’ve been searching for something, holding on to anger, to confusion. But it’s only kept you trapped,” Rosemary said. She took another step closer, watching as Jennifer’s figure fluttered slightly, like a fragile leaf in the wind. “You can let go, Jennifer. You can find peace. But I need you to focus, just for a little longer.”
Jennifer floated nearer, her eyes flickering with recognition. “Scott... he promised me something. I can’t remember, but I know it was important. I was waiting... waiting for him.”
“And he’ll be here soon,” Rosemary assured her. “But you need to hold on to yourself until he arrives. I need you to trust me. Just stay with me, Jennifer and we’ll help you.”
Jennifer’s form, paper-thin and ghostly, hovered even closer, as if drawn to Rosemary’s warmth. Her once-frantic energy had faded, but Rosemary knew it could return at any moment, and when it did, the rage might be uncontrollable.
“For how long?” Jennifer asked.
“As long as it takes,” Rosemary replied gently, though her heart knew they were working against time.
The air in the old pumping station hung heavy with a strange, almost tangible energy. The winds had calmed, the debris lay still, and the spirit of Jennifer hovered quietly before Rosemary. Her body swayed gently, but her eyes, now clearer, held a haunted depth. Rosemary, steadying her breath, took a slow step forward.
“You ’re starting to remember, aren’t you?” Rosemary’s voice was soft, gentle, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile calm between them.
Jennifer went very still, studying Rosemary, her form flickering slightly. “I don’t... understand. Why can’t I leave here? Why can’t I move on?”
Rosemary met her gaze, the weight of years of paranormal knowledge behind her words. “The longer you remain in the material world, Jennifer, the more disoriented you become. You lose parts of yourself, memories, feelings. You let go of everything in this world, piece by piece, until only the person or thing you loved the most is left.
Jennifer's form wavered, as if the very notion unsettled her. She floated back slightly, confusion darkening her expression. “What do you mean? What’s left?”
“That’s why you’ve been so angry, so lost,” Rosemary continued, her eyes never leaving Jennifer’s. “Everything else has faded away, the people, the places, the little moments of your life. But for you, there’s one thing keeping you here. One memory, one emotional connection that you’ve held on to, even after everything else has slipped away.”
Jennifer’s gaze grew distant, her ethereal figure trembling. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember what it was.”
“You will,” Rosemary said softly. “It was Martin.”
At the sound of his name, Jennifer’s form flickered more sharply, and her hollow eyes widened as a faint recognition stirred within her. “Martin...?”
Rosemary nodded. “Yes, Martin. He was everything to you, wasn’t he? And the thing that binds you here, the thing you can’t let go of, it’s the gift he gave you beneath the tree outside. The carousel, Jennifer. Do you remember?”
For a moment, Jennifer was silent, as her mind struggled to pull the pieces together. Then, slowly, as if from the depths of a long-forgotten dream, her memory stirred.
“I... I remember,” Jennifer whispered, her voice soft and distant, like the rustle of leaves on a forgotten autumn day.
“We sat beneath the oak. Spring had come, though the cold still clung to the air. Martin reached into his coat and drew out a small parcel, tied neatly with ribbon.”
Rosemary nodded, encouraging her to continue. “Yes, go on.”
Jennifer’s spectral figure seemed to grow stronger, more solid, as the memory took hold. “It was a carousel, small, delicate. He told me it was a symbol of our love, always turning, always bringing us back to each other, no matter what happened. He said...” She paused, a flicker of emotion crossing her face. “He said it would be a reminder that no matter where life took us, we’d always find our way back to that tree, to each other.”
Tears, faint and shimmering, formed in the corners of her ghostly eyes. The carousel, forgotten in the chaos of her anger and confusion, was now vivid in her mind. She could almost hear its soft tune, feel the warmth of Martin’s hand as he placed it in hers.
“That carousel,” Rosemary said softly, “it’s the last thing keeping you here. That memory, that love, it’s what has bound you to this world and this place. But it’s also the reason you’ve been so confused for so long. You’ve been clinging to the past, unable to let go, and it’s tearing you apart.”
Jennifer floated down closer to Rosemary. “But I don’t want to forget him,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose that moment, that love. It’s all I have left.”
“You don’t have to forget him,” Rosemary assured her. “That love will always be a part of you. But you need to let go of the pain and the confusion. You need to move on, Jennifer, or you’ll lose everything else, the memories, the joy, the peace. You’ll become trapped in this anger, and it will consume you.”
Jennifer’s spirit hovered, fragile yet conflicted, her mind swirling with the weight of the choice. Slowly, she closed her eyes, remembering the warmth of Martin’s touch, the soft tune of the carousel beneath the tree, and for the first time in decades, the anger in her heart began to subside.
“I want to rest,” she whispered. “I want to see Martin again.”
Rosemary’s expression softened. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, one that Jennifer couldn’t quite place, but it made her uneasy.
Rosemary’s hands trembled as she clasped them tightly, willing herself to speak. It was now or never, but God, she wished it wasn’t. Her throat felt dry, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
“Jennifer...” Her voice cracked as she said the name, then steadied, just barely. “There’s something you need to know.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jennifer’s form flickered. “What is it?”
“The carousel...” Rosemary hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “The carousel was damaged. It’s been broken for years, Jennifer. It doesn’t play your tune anymore.”
Jennifer recoiled, her translucent face twisting in confusion. “No... that can’t be. Martin’s carousel... It’s all I have left. I need to hear it, just once more.”
“I know, I know,” Rosemary said softly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “But the gears inside are damaged. It won’t play until it's repaired.”
Jennifer’s spirit trembled violently, her form distorting as the news took hold. “No!” she cried, her voice piercing the stagnant air of the pumping station. “It has to play! I need to hear it! How can I leave if I don’t hear our song?”
The calm that had begun to settle within her unravelled in an instant. The winds picked up again, and debris that had fallen to the ground moments earlier was tossed back up into the air, loose cables whipping around, clipboards rattling against the walls, buckets clattering across the floor again. Jennifer’s form warped, her expression twisted by a primal, overwhelming need.
“Jennifer, please!” Rosemary shouted over the rising chaos, trying to hold her ground as the storm within the spirit reignited. “Scott has taken it to be repaired. You will hear it again.”
But Jennifer wasn’t listening anymore. Her once clear thoughts were spiralling, collapsing in on themselves. All she could think of was that tune, the delicate, soft melody that had been a symbol of their love, a promise beneath that oak tree. The carousel was the only thing that mattered now, the only thing left tethering her to this world.
“It’s gone!” Jennifer shrieked, her voice raw with desperation. “I can’t feel it! It’s not beneath our tree in the yard outside.”
The winds howled louder, rattling the old pipes and shaking the walls of the station. The anger that had consumed her before was returning in full force, but this time it was tinged with a deeper kind of madness, a desperation to reclaim the one thing she couldn’t let go of.
“Jennifer, listen to me!” Rosemary’s voice broke through the cacophony, pleading. “Give Scott time to get back. He’s taken it to a repair specialist, music boxes, clock makers. You won’t pass over until you let go of the carousel, and you can, just give Scott time to bring it back to you.”
Jennifer’s face contorted with confusion. “No, I won’t leave without hearing it! I need to hear it! I need to hear it! Who has taken it from me?”
Her body twisted, warping in the air, as if she were being torn between two worlds. The growing disorientation, the fading grip on reality, was pulling her deeper into the darkness of her own rage.
Rosemary’s heart ached for her. She had seen spirits in this state before, trapped between the desire for closure and the loss of what had once tethered them to life. But Jennifer’s pain ran deep, and without the sound of that melody, she might never find peace.
“Scott, where are you?” Rosemary whispered.
The room pulsed with Jennifer’s fury, and Rosemary knew, in that moment, that the spirit would never rest. Not until she heard the music one last time.
Rosemary staggered backwards, her heart pounding as Jennifer's fury continued to rise. The gusts of wind within the pumping station started to gather strength. Jennifer’s once calm body flickered, like a candle in a storm, as her memory frayed. Rosemary clenched her fists, knowing she was running out of time. Then, amidst the chaos, a sudden voice echoed in her mind.
“Rosmary, it’s done! The carousel’s fixed! I’m running up the lane to you now!”
I need to get to Scott, she thought, her eyes darting to the heavy wooden doors. The telepathic message from Scott still echoed in her mind:
