Can we bring terror to the isles ... again?

Don’t you just love islands. The way it’s really easy to trap people there, out of sight, out of earshot, out of reach. The way it’s really easy to cut their communications, to cut the power, to maroon them in a situation where they can literally only rely on their wits, and maybe a sharp piece of shell, to survive. The way you can turn what initially may appear to be a carefree paradise into a seething, stinking Hell.

I’m talking about this from the perspective of a thriller/horror writer, of course. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I also love islands because in my experience they’ve nearly always been great places to go on holiday, though that ‘nice island’ thing isn't on our radar today. No, today’s blogpost is about two islands in particular, both on the fringes of the British Isles, neither of which actually exist, yet on both of which I’ve gleefully inflicted my own brand of terror.

One you may already be familiar with. One, you won’t, yet. But don’t worry. I’m going to talk about BOTH of them today.

Islands in the scream

I don’t consciously seek out islands in my thriller/horror fiction, but clearly I’m naturally drawn to them. Because I’ve visited them multiple times in my fiction, often revelling in their isolation and inaccessibility. At the end of the day, an island is not a great place to be marooned with an extreme antagonist.

I can illustrate this just off the top of my head with two instances from my Heck novels. 

In STALKERS (2013), Heck struggles to survive on a manufactured island, a great monolithic structure of corroded steel and rotted concrete far out in the Thames estuary, called Blacksand Tower (a former WW2 gun platform), when a contract killer lures him there. In THE KILLING CLUB (2014), meanwhile, he finds himself on Holy Island off England's northeast coast, seeking to uncover a band of mercenaries responsible for a series of horrific thrill-killings. In HUNTING GROUND, which only exists at present in movie treatment form, and was first optioned in 2009, I dump a group of terrified military cadets on a special forces training base far out in the Hebrides, only for their SAS instructors to start going crazy having been exposed to a chemical weapon (that one’s available again now, if anyone’s interested).

One key factor here though is that all these islands are real, or at least based on real places. Holy Island of course is best known as Lindisfarne,  while you can replace Blacksand Tower with the real life Red Sand Tower (pictured), also out in the mouth of the Thames. The spec ops training island in HUNTING GROUND, meanwhile, was strongly influenced by the semi-mythical Anthrax Island, reputedly in existence since the 1940s and so named to keep the curious at bay. 

But as I hinted at in my intro, of all the islands in my fiction where terror dwells, I’m most fond of the following two, primarily because neither of them are real, even though both are part of environments that do exist on the wild outer rim of the British Isles.

They are:

Forau Island, a fictional part of the real-life Channel Islands, which first appeared in my horror movie of 2011 (co-written with director, Paul Campion), THE DEVIL'S ROCK. 

And:

St Dunstan, an uninhabited and pristinely beautiful (though non-existent) member of the Isles of Scilly, which will first appear in my thriller novel due for publication later this year, THE ISLAND.

‘For Heaven's sake,’ I hear you groan, ‘must you continually besmirch these green and tranquil havens surrounded by cerulean seascapes with murder, mayhem and other horrors?’

Well, I’m sorry. I guess it’s just in my blood. 

My dad, the late Brian Finch, a successful screenwriter, whose career spanned four decades of British television, set all kinds of nightmarish scenarios on the lovely island of Jersey in the original series of BERGERAC, back in the 1980s, including one of my favourite ever 55 minutes of British TV. 

In WHAT DREAMS MAY COME (1985), his flawless script was graced by the late, great Charles Gray (pictured), who resurrected his chilling persona from THE DEVIL RIDES OUT (1968) as a ruthless warlock bent on destroying his enemies through black magic. 

All that aside, there isn’t an idyllic island I haven’t holidayed on myself, which I haven’t spent many pleasant hours dreaming up hellish scenarios for.

‘Okay, okay,’ I hear you say. ‘Enough with the schoolboy bragging. What happened on Forau Island? And what’s going to happen on St Dunstan?’ 

Well, I can obviously talk more about the former. 

THE DEVIL’S ROCK takes place on the night of June 5 1944, and sees two Allied commandos arriving on Forau by kayak, intent on blowing up a German gun emplacement before it wreaks havoc on the Invasion of Normandy. Needless to say when they get there, it isn’t anything like as straightforward even as that, because certain elements within the Nazis are in the process of cooking up an evil scheme to unleash an unstoppable demonic force.

It was the last movie script of mine to actually hit the cinemas, and it starred Craig Hall, Matt Sunderland and Gina Varela. It garnered lots of five-star reviews online. Check these out:

A fantastic movie that surpasses most big budget horror films. This is a movie you will come back to rewatch more than once.

Excellent movie with Luciferian symbolism, as well as Illuminati overtones. Must watch for all those who think playing with dark forces is cool ...

Different than most war movies and most horror movies. Some intense acting and interesting twists. Plus a bombshell lead actress. Take a chance on this film and allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised

One of the most enjoyable outcomes of THE DEVIL’S ROCK was a trip over to Guernsey (in the script the next closest island to Forau, and of course a real-life big player during WW2), to do a special Q&A with some of the island’s residents. We were treated rather royally, I have to say. We ate well, drank well and toured many of the island’s still-standing wartime ruins. (Check out the pic, Matt and myself making a recce).

The question now is will I be able to achieve the same with THE ISLAND?

And no, I don’t mean will I get invited to the Scillies to be wined, dined and asked to talk all about the novel (but, you know, if such an invite is forthcoming, hey ...). What I’m talking about here is can I effectively plunge another lovely place - very serene, very picturesque, and very cut off - into the depths of terror. I can’t talk as much about this one as I can THE DEVIL’S ROCK for obvious reason (it’s only out on September 1), but as it’s already available for pre-order, if you follow the LINK you can read the publishers’ blurb. 

Suffice to say that I went out of my way to capture the genteel atmosphere of the Scilly Isles, not so much utilising history on this occasion (though there is a bit of that woven in), as the steadily increasing paranoia of being trapped on a supposedly uninhabited island where there are buildings, beaches, footpaths and even quad bikes to take you from place to place and yet where you’re increasingly certain there’s someone else lurking just out of sight who is very, very, hostile to your presence. 

Here’s a snippet from THE ISLAND, just to whet your appetites.

‘Any thoughts on cause of death?’ Wayland asked.
     Pugh ran a limp hand through his mop of hair. He looked weary and haggard. ‘Dunno the correct terminology these days. Massive blood loss, massive tissue damage, shock, cardiac arrest . . . take your pick.’
     ‘Anything that we can actually move with?’
     The former CSI sniffed, his unruly moustache twitching. ‘Evidence of post-mortem bruising. Would suggest his wrists were bound not long before death.’
     ‘Bound together?’ Jack asked.
     ‘Probably behind his back. He was gagged too.’
     ‘Perhaps to make it easier to march him away from the hotel?’ Jack said.
     ‘Most likely.’ Pugh thought about it as they went into the taproom. ‘He was barefoot . . . I can tell you that much. There are injuries to the soles of his feet, consistent with stones, twigs, that sort of thing. There’s a heavy contusion to the back of his head. To stun him, I’d say.’
     ‘So . . . what’s the hypothesis?’ Milburn asked. She and the others had now come forward. ‘The bastard clubbed him from behind when he’d finally got him to the murder scene?’
     Pugh shrugged. ‘What I saw would align with that.’
     ‘And then, when he was stunned, he was nailed?’ she asked.
     Pugh shrugged again.
     Jack pondered the ugliness of that thought. ‘So, he was crucified alive?’
     Milburn frowned. ‘And the blade assault was to ensure he’d be dead by the time he got here?’
     ‘Either that, or whoever it was didn’t feel that beating him up and nailing him down was punishment enough,’ Pugh said...

***

So, what do you reckon, folks? Terror wreaked in the isles? Have we pulled it off again? We won’t know until September, but I don’t suppose that’s too long to wait now.